Saturday, March 19, 2016

Nie mój cyrk, nie moje małpy.

Life is weird.

A lot is going on at work… I’ll be there a year in April, and it’s been a rough year in about a thousand different ways. I’ve been re-evaluating my position there regarding where I want to be, where I am, where I’ve been. It hasn’t been looking good for them, and I’ve seriously been thinking about updating my resume and putting it out there. Just in case.

So. Of course, the controller has to take a new interest in me.

We’ve actually talked. Had real discussions about the service department’s accounting practices and procedures. Things that make me think I want to stay… for at least another six months.

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I signed up for Camp NaNoWriMo in April. I’m not planning on doing much in Camp, but I do want to try translating my best Drarry fanfic. Even if it’s something as simple as finding and replacing every instance of Harry and Draco’s names with the Ukrainian equivalent. I’m also thinking that I’ll dump in whatever words I know and worry about verb tenses and cases later.  It’s a start. There’re a few authors who have done Ukrainian fanfic for Potter, Teen Wolf, and Supernatural. Worst case scenario, I’ll leave a comment on a recent story and ask them to beta read.

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I turn 41 tomorrow and Mom’s 24th (!!!!) anniversary was yesterday. It was rough this year. The uptick in Ukrainian lessons and finalising the trip to Lviv have been kicking my ass - emotionally as much as mentally.  It’s been a strange few months.

—————-

I’ve been working out and running from Zombies. Doing things I never thought I’d do, like eating fucking yogurt and ENJOYING it. I’ve even been cutting back on the Coke. Me. I used to have a three can a day habit. Now I’m maybe having one a day.

I even managed to break the treadmill so we replaced it with a Bowflex Max. I didn’t buy into the hype - but it’s a stair stepper / elliptical thing that doesn’t take up a whole lot of room and it was the same price as a nice treadmill. That thing is a bitch. I can’t even do the “MAX” interval training thing: 14 minutes 3 times a week and you’ll lose a billion pounds in a month! I’m basically walking on it for a half hour at a whack. It’s much harder than a treadmill, that’s for sure.

I even decided to sign up for GORUCK University. It’s a bunch of classes on how to create a rucking environment and then there’s a GORUCK Light Challenge and a 5K Ruck. 7 hours of Good Livin’ in MAY. MAY 2016. LIKE TWO MONTHS FROM NOW.

I am so fucked.

But, I’m doing something right: I’m down almost 10 pounds in like two weeks and I don’t feel like it’s been a huge change to get there.

So there’s that.

Whee!

Sunday, July 14, 2013

I think it’s a three patch problem

Since a huge part of the GORUCK Tough family believes that what happens at the Challenges stay at the Challenge, I’m not going to do a blow-by-blow of what happened.

I did get a lot of questions about why I chose to go into the ocean fully clothed a while ago. All I could say at that point was there are a lot of Challenges where people wind up in water. I wanted to make sure my moisture wicking clothing would wick moisture, I wouldn’t get blisters from walking in wet socks and shoes, and what the ruck would do in water (hopefully outside of drowning me).

Well, this is why.

——

Yesterday, I went to The Dirty Girl mud race to cheer on a friend from the UCMB. I thought I wouldn’t be in good enough shape to do it, but judging from some of the competitors, I could have/should have joined in.

Well, I will next year.

While I was waiting for them to get out of the woods and into the part of the race I could see, I decided that I wanted to run the Manchester Road Race with a friend from elementary school and do a Zombie 10K with my gym buddy. (I’ve discovered that this sort of thing is better with friends.)

I’ve become one of “Them”... I never, in a billion years, thought that would happen. I played volleyball in high school and was in the Marching Band, but I’d never consider myself particularly active. (Marching band is hard work, Peanut Gallery, so don’t even go there.) I guess I can consider myself active now.
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My friend in Belgium turned me on to a VPN program that lets you watch BBC shows as they air. This is huge to me because it looks like we get edited versions of Top Gear here (it’s like they cut out certain sections for the US audience) and today, Top Gear has Benedict fucking Cumberbatch on it. If I waited to watch it here, I’d have to wait an entire week. That’s just not acceptable when I have the power to watch it today.

Obsessed much? Or impatient?

Flip a coin.

——

Also… MY FIRST DAY OF WORK IS TOMORROW.

I never thought I’d be so happy to see a Monday in my life.

Sunday, July 07, 2013

For every sad, there is a happy

I had that ‘refresher’ interview on Friday.

What a weird time… but I’ll get to that in a minute. Let’s start at the beginning. Shall we?

It started with him emailing me. In it, he told me that he wrote me this really long email, but never sent it. Then he wanted to know how my job search was going.

Turns out, that after my interview with him at the end of May, he had to make a political hire. (Whether that’s a lie, I don’t know…)

So Friday’s interview was lunch off-site because he didn’t want to be anywhere in the building when we talked. Walls have ears and all that.

During the interview, he told me more than once that I was his first choice. I guess to prove that it was a political hire? Again, I don’t know…

We chatted. We laughed. We bonded.

He pulled out real-life financials, invoices, and reports and asked me to analyze them.

He pop quizzed me several times on accounting techniques. (He kept apologizing for it, but it was kind of funny. I apologized several times for rolling my eyes.)

He asked me how to fix a printer. (I’m fucking serious. It was pretty hilarious.)

He told me exactly what he wanted me to take ownership of.

He told me exactly what he expected of me when I started.

Then, without meaning to, he pulled a Sherlock when he asked me if I was OK with him singing in the office. (For reference, during Sherlock and John’s first meeting, Sherlock says, “I play the violin when I’m thinking. Sometimes I don’t talk for hours on end. would that bother you? Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other.”)

I wasn’t sure if I should laugh hysterically or hug him for that.

He said I should hear back from him soon. He wasn’t sure if the owners needed to be involved or not before he made a decision. (I don’t know if they need to be - they got the resume and gave it to him, so obviously, they liked me on some level.)

I don’t want to be to optimistic, but I’m hoping to hell this means that I’m getting an offer.

Soon.

——

After moping around this morning for too long, the Duke of Stud texted me. Didn’t exactly help, per se, but he distracted me and made me laugh for a little bit. I can’t complain about that.

We’re figuring us out. Day by day.

He’s getting better, but I still feel like he’s still a ticking time bomb.

I guess I’ve been burned by him too many times.

BUT…

He offered to do something like the GORUCK with me after the spring of 2014. I’m looking forward to that. It’ll be nice to do it with friends…

After we got done talking, I realized that while I didn’t do the PT with the team, I walked the entire thing with them (however many miles). WITH MY RUCK ON. IN 90 DEGREE WEATHER.

I guess that’s something to be proud of.

... and so I will be.

I need a hug

I’d joked about dying during the GORUCK Challenge, but I didn’t think it would almost actually kill me.

Between the 90 degree heat and my heart defect acting up, I couldn’t breathe. Could. Not. Breathe. At. All.

They tried to help me out, but not even a half hour in, I backed out. I didn’t want to be the weak link.

Of course, I feel even worse because if a kid that puked the ENTIRE time (forever known as “Barf Bag”) could do it, why couldn’t I?

I walked the course with the group, just to see if I could. To get an idea of whether or not I could handle doing it again.

I can.

But first, I need to schedule an appointment with my cardiologist and fix this. (I already know the only way to fix it. I don’t want to be awake while they shove the laser up my leg and zap my heart. I’m hoping there may be a second option now… it’s been a few years since the diagnosis.)

I know I can’t control what my heart did… I know I can’t control the weather.

I did the best that I could without putting my life at risk. I mean, with these as the symptoms, could you really blame me for backing out?
Pounding heart
Shortness of breath
Chest pain
Rapid breathing
Dizziness
Loss of consciousness

I’m looking at Hartford in October… I’m not giving up.

I know if I can get the heart under control, I can do it.

Time to suck it up and get it fixed once and for all.

But in the meantime, I’m going to sit here and pout and cry and generally be a baby about it.

Sunday, June 23, 2013

Commence dying.

Two miles on the beach today.

5K this afternoon with my gym buddy.

Five-ish miles all together. All with 30 pounds of good livin’ attached to my back.

The verdict is: I think I’m going to die.

And, dude, that’s just WALKING. Never mind the fact that I haven’t done a single push up, flutter kick, bear crawl, etc. with the pack on. OR carrying a log. OR carrying the team weight…

I’ll be revising my will this week. If you want anything, let me know.

——

I got another positive review on my Johnlock fic! That’s a whole whopping three people who have said kind things, and zero who have been shitheads.

Of course, I’m just dying to be a shithead. I was reading what could have been a beautiful piece of fic and the author used the phrase “would of/could of” CONSISTENTLY. I thought I was going to jump through my phone and strangle the author. I see some offers to proofread/beta in my future. I don’t want to read beautiful fan fic that’s ruined because the author doesn’t know how to write. Most people who write in English when it’s not their first language will make a comment, or it’s very obvious. There’s nothing about this person that would lead me to assume that English is a second language… and that just makes me sad.

OK. Off to thank the review writer…