Filed under: Life in general
I was walking home this evening– another late night with my computer. After a full day of dietary indiscretion, I still had a hankering for something else. Something sweet, possibly something made with chocolate. What is it about stress that makes me want to wolf down a gigantic pan of brownies? Does the sugar provide such euphoria that I’m willing to forsake all my efforts to maintain some level of fitness?
Well…yes, actually.
I’ve run out of my favorite whole bean coffee; instead of picking up a more or less acceptable alternative at the local grocery store, I picked up Taster’s Choice, which I’m proud to report, is actually not so bad. Particularly when one adulterates it with milk and sugar as I do. Along with my instant coffee (which provided the useful excuse to enter said local grocery store), I purchased a brown sugar and cinnamon pop-tart. It doesn’t contain chocolate, but when I bit into it, I was gripped with nostalgia. I remember sitting in my freshman dorm room, starting an essay for English class at 5am the morning it was due at 5pm, pop tart in hand. Suffice it to say, I did not do so well in English 101, but I did enjoy many, many brown sugar & cinnamon pop tarts.
Filed under: Life in general
Every morning I wake up, I think this grant will done; then I find myself working on it the next day. If someone told me that hell is writing grants, I would become a nun.
Filed under: Life in general
I was just settling in for the night. Comfortably ensconsed in my bed, lights out, de-humidifier humming softly outside in the hallway. Then I remembered that I had not written today’s entry. I was torn for a exactly 1 minute. Do I get up and write– or can I just let it wait until tomorrow? Last week, I reneged on my committment to reflect on each day– indeed, I had a terrible week in which I seemed to lose focus and perspective at the same time. I wasn’t sure if writing would have helped, but for the moment, I like to think it may have. Hence, my presence here tonight. Even if it means I get 30 minutes less sleep, at least I’ll have a better chance with sanity.
I went to a wedding this weekend in Warren, PA. A friend of mine got married to a man she had been dating for several years. Coincidentally, it’s also been several years since I’d had a good conversation with her. I met a few people from the various walks of her life and our stories about this woman seemed to share the same motif– in fact, her bridesmaid gave a toast in which she thanked the new husband for coming into our lives because he told her ‘It’s not good to ignore your friends.” and forced her to call us back after we would leave first, second, and in a few cases, third messages on her voicemail. Though I laughed at the time, upon retelling, it’s kind of not the usual substance of wedding toasts.
Filed under: Life in general
This week I felt like an overtightened violin string– if you plucked me even slightly, I snapped. Multiple times. I even hyperventilated. Once. Fortunately it lasted for only 45 seconds, but it was accompanied by this deeply unsettling feeling that you’re about to jump out of your skin. In moments of rare clarity, I felt remorse for those who unknowingly crossed my path. I’m preparing a grant— not that this is even remotely an excuse, but apparently some level of stress is par for the course. I suspect that there are many who believe I’ve raised the anxiety levels up a few notches.
I used to think that you could only truly tell a person by what he or she was like under pressure. I made this observation during my internship– most residents were great when things were under control, but some residents just broke down when the work started piling up. Deep red welts would form across their forehead, books would slam to the ground mysteriously, answers were terse monosyllables, commands would take on this high-pitched barky character… I didn’t think I was one of those…
Music I’m OD’ing on: The Twilight Singers, Powder Burns
Food I’m currently addicted to: Sausage, Basil, Onion pizza (Upper Crust Pizza)
Weekly mileage: 28
Days to becoming an aunt for the first time: 174 (estimated)
Newly discovered website (with credits): www.cuteoverload.com (BBA)
Update on friends & family:
AP had a fried chicken party on her rooftop. The fried chicken was purchased in Harlem. IH is back from Croatia where she vacationed for her annual 2 week family reunion. Except for a cold she picked up on the plane, she had a wonderful trip. MD had a book-signing for Notorious C.O.P. in Pasadena. DB’s sister came into town from Toronto via NY– Amtrak actually got her in earlier than scheduled which is unheard of. AH found a studio in an art deco building on Wall Street and will be heading down to NYC this week to start her new job– hooray! Squeaky-n-BBA are happily enconsed in bed playing with BBA’s sidekick.
Filed under: Life in general
I’m sitting here at my desk, my legs folded underneath me and I’m thinking about what wisdom I can share with my friends today. I think back on today’s memorable moments. The list doesn’t exist so I only need to think for a minute or two. But then I’m lulled by this odor. This sharp, tangy smell that’s clearly unpleasant, but vaguely… comforting. I recognize this odor. It comes from my feet after having spent the day barefoot in a certain pair of shoes. Sometimes, I’m tempted to lean in a little closer. I’d be lying if I said that I never did this, but usually, I’m greeted by, well, too much foot. I contine to think about possible topics, but even as my mind wanders, I notice my attention keeps straying back to this olefactory delight that coming from anyone else would be grounds for divorce.
I’ve promised myself to write every day, if only to force myself into the habit of reflecting on each day so that, just maybe, I can slow down time. Even if it means that I have to write about foot odor.
I’ll say that I’ll go wash my feet now.
I went running this evening. The plan was to run an 11 mile route through the city authored by one of my running partners. I am a pathetic creature of habit– I drink one coffee with an equal portion of Over the Moon 1% milk every day, I eat 1 1/2 cups of all-bran every morning (sometimes with blueberries), I run loops around the Charles and if it’s a special day I might decide to walk a parallel route to work.
So this route which was clearly NOT along the river caused me the slightest bit of anxiety. But out we went. Up the Charles (I did get a bit in), behind the Fleet Center, down the waterfront (which this evening was a rather challenging obstacle course of swinging revelers– literally. There was an outdoor swing band.). At the Boston Harbor Hotel, we crossed a bridge and went down along the water’s edge at which point, I lost all sense of direction. I had no idea where I was. My partners began pointing out different buildings, new galleries, interesting hotels, a gigantic open air theater that I still cannot believe that I did not know existed until today. Perhaps because of the fact that both of the women are relatively new to Boston, I found it deeply humiliating that they knew so much. And I couldn’t even point in the direction of home.
In any case, this two hour and fifteen minute tour of the city (we got lost) made me realize how well rooted I am. I readily admit, I quite vociferously complain about Boston, but tonight perhaps for the very first time, I realized that perhaps part of the problem, is me.
Filed under: Life in general
I feel like my foot is on the accelerator, but the brain is in park.
It is/was one of those days where I feel like I accomplished exactly the same thing that I did when I woke up. It’s another day tomorrow/today.
I saw a patient today. A spry 79 year old gentleman sporting a carefully coiffed mane of thick silver hair, a trim build from regular exercise, and a healthy tan from days spent out on the golf course. One of those guys who wants to live forever. He actually said to me– ‘I’m trying to live for as long as I can.” He shows me a vaguely brown spot on his forearm covered with dry excoriations from his fingertips. I think he’s trying to scratch scratch it off. Too hard to tell with all the skin debris how it began its life on his arm. Watch it for now. His blood pressure is also quite high, but it’s always higher with me than it is when he takes it at home. This concerns him too. He presents me with a book of I think hundreds of his blood pressure measurements so that he can prove to me that they’re normal at home. He turns each page for me. I believe you.
I talked to my mother today. She’s 70 years old and except for a perma-tan, she’s one of the healthiest people I know. Since she and my father moved down to Florida a year ago, she swims, plays tennis and hangs with buddies through 18 holes of golf. Every single day. She keeps regular work hours– except she’s not working. A week ago she bought a Singer sewing machine for ninety dollars and she’s been spending the rest of her free time turning their pants and long sleeved shirts into shorts and tank tops.
I can’t wait to retire.
