Gettin' linky with it (NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA)

I made unofficial goals for myself this year – move more, watch less TV, write more, etc. – and would like to report that those things are going well. I’m doing a pretty good job of focusing on each day instead of boldly stating, for instance, that I will no longer be a TV watcher by the end of the year. As “kill your television” I’d sometimes like to be, that’s not who I am. I like vegging out in front of the TV; I’m just working on doing it less. Most importantly, I’m turning off the TV when there’s nothing on that I actually want to watch. I’d guess that more than half of the TV I consume just started out as background noise while I was playing on the computer.

I've also been pretty active the last couple weeks and I've been doing some writing exercises. Muscle, I flex thee.

Another of my unofficial goals has been to say ‘no’ less often. I’ve found myself vetoing a LOT of activities out of various fears, oftentimes for financial reasons. Generally the things I’ve been invited to do don’t cost a lot of money when I really think about it. Thus, I’ve made plans to get out of River City the next few weekends, beginning Saturday with a trip a couple hours north to hang out with a group of Michfest women. Also on the agenda: A visit south to catch a homo film festival with some lovely ladies, and a road trip to St. Louis to visit my friends Sasha and Nicole.

I very nearly purchased a plane ticket to Seattle to catch a friend’s (Miss 2000 Miles Away) house concert the first weekend in February, but basically talked myself out of it. Being both a big girl and prone to anxiety swells (as opposed to full-on attacks), I was very interested in buying two seats so that I wouldn't have to worry about being squashed next to two other passengers for hours on end. The last time I flew, I was seated next to a linebacker-ish guy who kept elbowing me in the side as though he was going to force me back into my seat. One of the stewards thankfully found him somewhere else to sit but it was pretty upsetting. Add to that the fact that it had only been nine months since 9/11 and I was scared out of my damn mind. We also hit turbulence, which would have been routine and mildly scary had I not been hanging onto the edge of my sanity with just a pinkie. I spent about half the flight crying.

I don’t really know what to say about the experience with Mr. Elbows without slipping into some kind of self-deprecation, self-hate, blame, guilt, or whatever other emotion I can’t think of at the moment. I am a large person. I didn’t know how to cope with my family’s move to River City some 25 years ago, the resulting culture shock, the hell of junior high, being bullied – all of it and more. I didn’t know how to use my voice, so I ate. And I ate. And I ate more. And more. And then I ate some more. I gained a LOT of weight and now I am very large and I take up more room than the average person. I’m sorry I’m partially in your seat but jamming your not-exactly-slender arm into me isn’t going to make me spontaneously lose weight. Stop being a dick.

(WHO HAS TWO THUMBS AND HAS HAD A LOT OF THERAPY? YEAH.)

I wanted to buy two seats to spare myself and my fellow passengers any trauma, but spending roughly $500 for a weekend trip just wasn’t going to work out. It’s too bad because I got a rush off being that spontaneous. I’ll likely schedule a trip out that way later in the year, perhaps for a long holiday weekend when I won’t blow in to town, catch a concert and a coffee with friends, and then have to head back home.

Seen in traffic recently: Two different people who sat at a red light for a little while and then, either impatient or clueless, drove through the light before it turned green. Two different cars, different places, different times of day but same day. I think the first car wasn’t paying attention and thought the light had turned green because it came AWFULLY close to getting T-boned by oncoming traffic.

Also: A billboard for a hardware store that included the phrase “I’m a tool; rent me!” The jokes write themselves.

* * * * * * * * * *

I met Vanessa and Brenda for breakfast and shopping last Sunday. We visited Bed, Bath, and Beyond where I scored a battery-operated bank that counts the money I save. (I’m up to almost $30 in change! It would be $40 but I bought the bank!) As a belated birthday present, the girls gifted me a rice cooker, which I look forward to using.

We also visited Goodwill. I wanted to buy some comforters to block the heinous drafts coming into my barely insulated apartment and found a couple that I went back to ‘rescue’ today. I didn’t have enough money on me on Saturday and hoped both blankets would still be there this afternoon. They were (Score!) but I thought I was about to lose one to a woman who was browsing the aisle when I walked into the store. (LARGE BLACK WOMAN BEATS INNOCENT BYSTANDER TO DEATH OVER DUVET; NEWS AT 11.) I’m happy to say that both covers are both up at the windows and that it’s gradually getting warmer in here.

[insert appropriate and logical segue here]

Yesterday I started my temp job, which has me cold calling doctors’ offices to update contact information. Most everyone is nice. Today, however, I got snipped at by a nurse receptionist person who verified the information I read off to her but then asked if I needed to schedule an appointment.

Uh… no.

So you just pressed the button to schedule an appointment just so you could talk to someone?

I did.

-pause-

-silence-

-discomfort-

ThankshaveagreatdayWOWrelaxlady.

Like I said, most everyone is nice. Thankfully, I'm not selling anything or asking them to take a survey. Remembering that I’m getting paid helps me continue making calls, as does the fact that I don’t have one of those jobs that requires I dress like Lady Liberty and hold a sign directing people to the tax service center I work. I saw a guy doing that today. I also saw two guys standing in the freezing cold holding signs for a melt-your-jewelry-for-cash kind of places. I’ll make phone calls; thanks.

Benefit to working from home: I can wear my slippers.

Drawback: Answering the door to find Betty Off Her Crocker at the door, holding a dugout, and asking, rather snarkily, if it was mine. Truthfully, I said no. She seemed awfully pissed off. I don’t know if she’s mad because she lives around dope smokers or if she's still mad because I asked her to stop vacuuming at 1:30 in the morning. All I can say is that she’s awful judgy for someone who is (a) crazy and (b) apparently vying for some kind of medal in chain-smoking. Apparently Competitive Indoor Inhalation is only okay if it comes from a legal substance. Pfft. Back off, McGruff.