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8 June 2015, 10:10

Just a shorty before I tready, and yes I am SO stalling. I shouldn’t be stalling. I should be on there. If not for health reasons, for the worry and fretting I’m doing. I SO NEED A JOB. I’m up for some doable ones. I just NEED a job. And its not to keep me busy or fulfill the need to be working. I’m over that. I have been enjoying the ME-TIME and progressing on my self improvement campaign. I want to get income, so I don’t have to worry about the bills. Every thing was way under control until a new car came into the picture. Now there’s a new car payment and some HELLACIOUS insurance payments. And I’m not contributing. And if I think about it I panic, and start to weep up a bit. I’m juggling the bills as best I can, and I’m in perpetual overdrafty-ness. I have interviews and what not, and its for two situations that I wouldn’t hate. I just need to work NOW.

In the meantime, I went through and got rid of most of the Mac horde from the Crazy-Man, and if you ever get hard drives or computers from strangers, please dear god, DON’T OPEN STRANGE FILES. I opened an innocent .mov and got someone else’s va-jay-jay staring back at me. There were all sorts of personal items left on the computer like tax returns and insane crank writings calling for the succession of South Carolina from the United States (which, personally, I support – they can take Mississippi, Alabama, North Carolina, and Tennessee with them, also). Some people should hit the ground on their aged and injured knees, thanking his good lord that this “wacko” liberal is a very good person with a stronger moral compass than himself, and doesn’t use ALL this personal information for her own personal gain and his public humiliation. I deleted all of it. I found it unpalatable at best, the writings and all. But the vaggy was the most disturbing. I’ve added up my time from the initial haul (manual labor@9 per hour=$72, gas $20, asshole tax-$20) which the cost of this thing was $112 basically. So, what I got out of it was meese (@ $2 eachx5=$10, monitor=$10, couple old computers=$10, power cords (tub full)=$30, little bits I needed=$20, old G4 ibook=$30/pending, printer/pending-$75 or $100). I came out about $73 dollars ahead. And after thinking about the asshole tax, which should have been larger, it comes out to be about $20 bucks ahead. Nope. Not worth it. Well, not worth it if I put a premium on not dealing with a Kook, and not having back pain for three days, nor listening to what I SHOULD have done/sold. I’m going to call it a wash.

Okay. I’m stressing a bit over things so I’m going to force myself into some tready time and try not to think about things for about an hour and a half.


Break time. I know its only been about 20 minutes. But. I suck. I don’t know why some Mondays I can go on forever, and some I need about a 100 breaks and a tank of oxygen. Humidity? Stress? Food? Weight? Karma? Kinda feel like I could vomit, but that would entail upchucking one small powdered sugar doughnut, sprite and an energy shot, and 5 ibuprofen.

This shit its hard. Only occasionally do you get that fleeting, enlightened, transcended moment of the joy of exercising. It’s hard. I went to the fattie forum – yes, I will continue to call it that forever, so send your hate mail to LaLaLaIcan’thearyou@gosuckeggs.com – and there are tons of women either perplexed at why they haven’t gotten any results after two minutes walking on a treadmill or the freaking scary ass aliens that feel refreshed and transformed doing their 25 mile run. Either group makes me want to vomit. Or it may be the exercise. But I’m TRYING not to obsess over every ounce, and TRYING not to punish myself for the pizza and doughnuts that I had this weekend. But, I think most of the women are like me, in that its going to take a lot of hard work to see incremental and sometimes, disappointing results. I’m in the middle of a plateau where hardly nothing is happening. And it hard to keep motivation for me, at least, when I don’t see a steady, predictable, progression. My biology is rarely predictable. I don’t get a lot of cheerleading for all this either. I guess I really shouldn’t expect it for doing something I should be doing already, but dammit, I give a lot of rah rahs for others for a lot less, don’t I deserve a spontaneous “Wow, you look a lot better since you’ve started that whole treadmill bullshit…”

I did get the sweetest email from my friend OurBill, of whom I’ve always liked and thought was an aces-high good guy. It was encouraging and let me know that someone out there appreciates the effort I’m sort of putting out there. It’s hard to be motivated and happy about crap all the time. That’s normal.

I have to get back up there again. I guess rest time is over. Today is a HARD MONDAY. I haven’t hit that “OOOO LET’S GO FOREVER…” point, although to be fair to myself, lately, that point has been coming after 45 minutes to an hour of this shit.

Stop stalling already.

Great googlie mooglies.


Taking a fucking break from sweaty time. As I predicted, around minute 45 is when it got easy and I got all reptile brainy. Still fretting over things I can’t control. Just a wee bit less now. Now I’m just worrying about new things, like falling off the treadmill. And, well the bedroom outlet smells. Like its burning. I sat there and watched it for 5 minutes. The smell went away, but I don’t know if that’s because I got use to it, or it really went away. I have to tell the landlord. I dread talking to her since I discovered how she really feels about us. Doug has such a better attitude about that than I. He’s got the “Fuck Her” attitude, whilst me being a hyperloaded people pleaser (thanks mom) I have an internalized need to prove myself to her, prove that I’m a good person, that I’m worthy. Yeah. I know RIGHT? My brain says, “You got to be fucking kidding… You are trying to live up to a standard that A) she herself is far from, and B) you have no reason to try to achieve.

I’m trying to tready all that neurosis away. About 30% successful. Although, I kill a stranger for a cookie, right about now.

I must be doing pretty well on the tready, I feel like I want to vomit and bawl.


What sucks is that I probably could have went another 20 minutes. I quit while still able – my mistake was looking at the time. Then it snuck into my head that I could quit if I wanted to. I even did an extra mile. Sweaty time is over. Don’t want to vomit. Don’t want to bawl. Don’t want to move. If I could do this every day, that would be sweet.

You know. I’m out of apples, and there are doughnuts in the kitchen.