FINALLY. I HAVE DONE IT. And I did it well too.
And by well I mean, I could have gone longer if I really felt like it (which I absolutely did not)
It was an extremely rainy run, which I normally like...but this time I was sort of drowning in my own inhalations and all that jazz. Still, I'm sure it helped (it usually does).
The biggest downer of the run was that I started getting hungry very close to the start and smelling french fries everywhere I turned ... (strange)...
Anyway. I did the 6 miles in a "speedy"not 1 hour, 10 minutes and 35 seconds.
I started at 18 minutes, 33 seconds and then did some variation on 5 minute breaks and 1o minute runs.
My second to last break I did take for possibly 11 minutes (sinful, I know) but all is well, because I finished strong and PROUD.
I'd lost my pride completely after the shin splints, feeling fat, unattractive, and unathletic.
But two weeks ago I couldn't do 6 miles. Or something, I'm not quite sure. Google maps told me it was 5.7 and my car told me 6miles, but it's somewhere in between those, and I'll give myself the benefit of the doubt for all of those cars I had to go around parked on the road, and the streets I have to cross...mostly jayjogging.
HUMANRACE (here I come!!!!)!!!!!
endpost
Friday, August 29, 2008
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Nerd
In the manner of a complete nerd, I was awakened from my hard earned sleep (seriously, it took like an hour to fall asleep) because I couldn't breathe due to allergies...
Seriously, what a loser. That was at 2:47 AM.
So I got up to blow my nose and woke up the kitten, and then used the toilet because hey, why not. And of course Orion feels it totally necessary to jump on my lap as I'm urinating, and then try napping there. Sweet cat (seriously).
Then I trekked downstairs to drug up on Benadryl and get knocked out cold, but it just didn't happen that way and after not being able to fall asleep once again, I still woke up less than 8 hours later.
How is this? Benadryl is supposed to make me sleep for a long time (at least 8 hours!!!!!). According to my faith in Benadryl, I should still be in bed for at least another hour.
Instead, I am "awake", but with a slight dizziness and fatigue since the Benadryl is still very much in my system.
In other ridiculous news- my mom got home from work last night and stormed into her room, out of the house, and into her room for the rest of the evening. After yelling at me for a little bit to make herself feel better.
She was angry at my sisters and I because we hadn't done the dishes. But fuck that, having a temper tantrum at age 48 just doesn't do much for me except to make me 50%amused/50% annoyed.
All over some dirty dishes. She even called my dad who then called me. Do my parents really not understand that I'm 20 years old, and intelligent enough to recognize their irrational behavior? Apparently not.
And they should, especially because it's their fault that I also have irrational tendencies.
Plus, the only reason I didn't do the dishes is because it isn't "my week."
Yes. In our household, we have a weekly chore list, like fucking 5 year olds. So I simply refused to do someone else's chores. If I am to be subjected to some ridiculous To-Do list, rather than be asked like an adult to get something done, then I am going to follow said list to the tee, and not do an ounce more than originally requested by that list.
Minor mistake on my part, but with good reason.
endpost
Seriously, what a loser. That was at 2:47 AM.
So I got up to blow my nose and woke up the kitten, and then used the toilet because hey, why not. And of course Orion feels it totally necessary to jump on my lap as I'm urinating, and then try napping there. Sweet cat (seriously).
Then I trekked downstairs to drug up on Benadryl and get knocked out cold, but it just didn't happen that way and after not being able to fall asleep once again, I still woke up less than 8 hours later.
How is this? Benadryl is supposed to make me sleep for a long time (at least 8 hours!!!!!). According to my faith in Benadryl, I should still be in bed for at least another hour.
Instead, I am "awake", but with a slight dizziness and fatigue since the Benadryl is still very much in my system.
In other ridiculous news- my mom got home from work last night and stormed into her room, out of the house, and into her room for the rest of the evening. After yelling at me for a little bit to make herself feel better.
She was angry at my sisters and I because we hadn't done the dishes. But fuck that, having a temper tantrum at age 48 just doesn't do much for me except to make me 50%amused/50% annoyed.
All over some dirty dishes. She even called my dad who then called me. Do my parents really not understand that I'm 20 years old, and intelligent enough to recognize their irrational behavior? Apparently not.
And they should, especially because it's their fault that I also have irrational tendencies.
Plus, the only reason I didn't do the dishes is because it isn't "my week."
Yes. In our household, we have a weekly chore list, like fucking 5 year olds. So I simply refused to do someone else's chores. If I am to be subjected to some ridiculous To-Do list, rather than be asked like an adult to get something done, then I am going to follow said list to the tee, and not do an ounce more than originally requested by that list.
Minor mistake on my part, but with good reason.
endpost
Monday, August 25, 2008
Don't Wear Bronzer (Please?)
At least, not if you're a male. And a meat head at that. AND (worst of all) a wannabe musician.
At Porter's the other night, I saw for the first time a true example of a Tool (yes, the caps was necessary). If being a meat head, and possibly the least talented musician ever (will clarify), wasn't enough, this kid also donned a skin tight shirt and one of those weird beanie things with mini brims.
I've had a personal hatred for those stupid hats ever since they came out. They just scream asshole. On top of that, it's fucking August indoors. Asshole-caps not necessary.
Here is some basic advice I have for this kid, or maybe you if you fall into this unfortunate profile:
1) Don't be a meat head. Easy.
2) Ditch the mini brim. Easy.
3) Don't condemn your audience with sappy feminine lyrics about a girl and her eyes, doubled with power chords. It makes no sense. Easy (if you put your mind to it! ).
4) Don't continuously mention said girl in every single song. And oh, there were so many. Moderate: once you've fallen into a funk it sometime proves challenging to escape it.
5) Don't play a baby blue electric guitar. Easy/Hard, unless you have a spare one lying around that hasn't been obnoxiously tinted, this could prove difficult. Regardless: Get it done.
6) Don't sing loud, or ever. EASY
7) Don't wear bronzer....
In good news though, my boyfriend tagged along with his friends' band right after MiniBrim on saxophone, and the trio made a nicely unique sound that was easy to listen to without being boring. And that's without vocals (a welcome relief after Bronzer). Unfortunately, all of the fans who had stuck around for that awful little man ditched when he was finished playing.
I know you're thinking that they left because they were driven away by his noise, but the sad truth is that they were his fans.
Yes: This guy had total fans. One of them even commented that "He just plays guitar so well."
WHAT.
How does that happen? What happens to people that could really make them so delusional about life and what sounds good.
Fuck it being a matter of opinion, the guy sucked and that's the end of it. No opinion (other than those that are the same as mine) necessary. Some things just suck! And everyone should just suck a dick or realize it!
Endpost
At Porter's the other night, I saw for the first time a true example of a Tool (yes, the caps was necessary). If being a meat head, and possibly the least talented musician ever (will clarify), wasn't enough, this kid also donned a skin tight shirt and one of those weird beanie things with mini brims.
I've had a personal hatred for those stupid hats ever since they came out. They just scream asshole. On top of that, it's fucking August indoors. Asshole-caps not necessary.
Here is some basic advice I have for this kid, or maybe you if you fall into this unfortunate profile:
1) Don't be a meat head. Easy.
2) Ditch the mini brim. Easy.
3) Don't condemn your audience with sappy feminine lyrics about a girl and her eyes, doubled with power chords. It makes no sense. Easy (if you put your mind to it! ).
4) Don't continuously mention said girl in every single song. And oh, there were so many. Moderate: once you've fallen into a funk it sometime proves challenging to escape it.
5) Don't play a baby blue electric guitar. Easy/Hard, unless you have a spare one lying around that hasn't been obnoxiously tinted, this could prove difficult. Regardless: Get it done.
6) Don't sing loud, or ever. EASY
7) Don't wear bronzer....
In good news though, my boyfriend tagged along with his friends' band right after MiniBrim on saxophone, and the trio made a nicely unique sound that was easy to listen to without being boring. And that's without vocals (a welcome relief after Bronzer). Unfortunately, all of the fans who had stuck around for that awful little man ditched when he was finished playing.
I know you're thinking that they left because they were driven away by his noise, but the sad truth is that they were his fans.
Yes: This guy had total fans. One of them even commented that "He just plays guitar so well."
WHAT.
How does that happen? What happens to people that could really make them so delusional about life and what sounds good.
Fuck it being a matter of opinion, the guy sucked and that's the end of it. No opinion (other than those that are the same as mine) necessary. Some things just suck! And everyone should just suck a dick or realize it!
Endpost
Boyfrannns
I never ask for boy advice, but people come to me for advice about boys a lot.
I'm not sure if this is a problem or not, but it's something I've always done. I guess I'm just really not comfortable talking about "guy problems" because I feel like it leaves me vulnerable to looking weak and for people to judge me or think their relationships are better than mine.
And that list is ridiculous and probably not true. But whatever, I'm paranoid.
Anyway, I'm not sure if anyone really notices that I almost never talk about these things exclusively, but I do like that people feel they can come to me for advice.
Possibly I think my own self is a good enough person to confide in, if that makes sense? Like, other people seem to think my judgment is alright enough to talk about things with, so maybe I'm just really good at taking my own advice.
Yeah, I'm definitely going with that one. hahaha
I'm not sure if this is a problem or not, but it's something I've always done. I guess I'm just really not comfortable talking about "guy problems" because I feel like it leaves me vulnerable to looking weak and for people to judge me or think their relationships are better than mine.
And that list is ridiculous and probably not true. But whatever, I'm paranoid.
Anyway, I'm not sure if anyone really notices that I almost never talk about these things exclusively, but I do like that people feel they can come to me for advice.
Possibly I think my own self is a good enough person to confide in, if that makes sense? Like, other people seem to think my judgment is alright enough to talk about things with, so maybe I'm just really good at taking my own advice.
Yeah, I'm definitely going with that one. hahaha
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Fuck you, The Man!
I'M READY FOR SCHOOL. So ready.
I'm going to learn to cook (hopefully..) and overcome my fear of extreme heat from the oven. Whatever! I'm 20, female, and don't like cooking.
What of it, people?
It'll happen when it happens. All you COOKERS our there should be jealous of how easily I've coasted through 20 years of life, never making anything more complicated than chicken parmesan, which my mom took over for me anyway. Meaning I've also escaped many laborious hours over a hot stove which could potentially burn my skin.
People like to poke fun at this fact, but my absolute best friends at college, KC and Pallwaul (who will be mentioned numerous times in about two weeks) had to be taught by moi to cook pancakes.
Which, if you know me, is absolutely hilarious. I basically only knew how to cook pancakes by observation. Plus the fact that it's completely absurd that between three 20 year olds, not one of us had actually ever made them before.
Lame, but maybe our lack of cooking skills is a subconscious jab at The Man, who expects us to cook and be providers.
Fuck you, The Man!
I'm going to learn to cook (hopefully..) and overcome my fear of extreme heat from the oven. Whatever! I'm 20, female, and don't like cooking.
What of it, people?
It'll happen when it happens. All you COOKERS our there should be jealous of how easily I've coasted through 20 years of life, never making anything more complicated than chicken parmesan, which my mom took over for me anyway. Meaning I've also escaped many laborious hours over a hot stove which could potentially burn my skin.
People like to poke fun at this fact, but my absolute best friends at college, KC and Pallwaul (who will be mentioned numerous times in about two weeks) had to be taught by moi to cook pancakes.
Which, if you know me, is absolutely hilarious. I basically only knew how to cook pancakes by observation. Plus the fact that it's completely absurd that between three 20 year olds, not one of us had actually ever made them before.
Lame, but maybe our lack of cooking skills is a subconscious jab at The Man, who expects us to cook and be providers.
Fuck you, The Man!
Friday, August 22, 2008
The Fountainhead
Read it. Whether you like Ayn Rand or not, read this book. Take your time if you have to, or rush through it, because yeah it's long. But so worth it.
SERIOUSLY.
Or at least skip to almost toward the end when the main character Howard Roark is in a court room speaking. I won't mention why, just in case, and also because I have hope that one of my readers (which is no one but myself) will read this book.
Awesome enough to have a definite impact on how I view most things, and not in that way where the author is on some religious journey and tries to make you feel bad about yourself and your lifestyle and wants you to change.
This book is basically preaching that "selfishness" is a good thing and that our society wrongfully teaches all of us to feel bad about making ourselves happy. When really, anyone who can achieve self happiness independent of everyone else is the person who keeps life moving.
Which sounds so confusing and dumb coming from my hands, so just read the book.
SERIOUSLY.
Or at least skip to almost toward the end when the main character Howard Roark is in a court room speaking. I won't mention why, just in case, and also because I have hope that one of my readers (which is no one but myself) will read this book.
Awesome enough to have a definite impact on how I view most things, and not in that way where the author is on some religious journey and tries to make you feel bad about yourself and your lifestyle and wants you to change.
This book is basically preaching that "selfishness" is a good thing and that our society wrongfully teaches all of us to feel bad about making ourselves happy. When really, anyone who can achieve self happiness independent of everyone else is the person who keeps life moving.
Which sounds so confusing and dumb coming from my hands, so just read the book.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
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