radio ruck, four bricks, 3 liters water, yoga block, and spare bricks
I have no idea how much this bag weighs. I’m afraid to find out.
Yes, I am well aware that the yoga block is peeeeeeenk. I just need it to hold the bricks in place. I should probably use velcro, too, but everything is jammed in there pretty tight.
I have both the GR1 and the Radio Ruck. I’m glad I “splurged” and got the RR. The GR1 is a little too long and hits my tailbone. This one is a much better fit, plus it’s smaller so it limits the amount of crap I can stick in it. I’ve read a lot about people over packing. The only other stuff I’m packing are some little tablets that turn the water into something gatorade-ish and some protein bars, and my $20 for an emergency cab.
I am still freaked out by the fact that I’m doing it.
I still can’t put into words why I want to do it.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again - breaking in a bag with bricks does it quickly, but I still wouldn’t recommend it.
I’m too lazy to find the blog entry that I pulled the title from, but it’s in the archives somewhere.
I’m afraid of the direction my Cabin Pressure fan fic is heading in. I seriously want to pop an ativan and hide in the bathroom until after my muse sits in the corner, thinks about what it’s done, and gives me a more comfortable storyline.
That said, let’s move on…
Last night at knitting, the women were all talking about technology and how much they liked/disliked about phones, Kindles, etc. They got on the topic of the Patriot Act and the government’s spying on people. A few of them don’t use the ‘club’ cards that stores have (CVS, Shaw’s, Rite Aid…). A few of them refuse to use an E-ZPass.
Considering how much of my life is online, I could only sit back and laugh.
All I can say is, for as much as I HATE the idea of Johnlock sex, my muse is forcing some Marlas sex into my fiction. I don’t know about the rest of you girls out there, but this female trying to write about two guys getting it on? I have a rough idea of how the equipment works because I’ve been with guys and well… you know, but other than that? I got nuttin’.
Dog. Bless. Google.
I really hope to hell that the government is monitoring my google usage right now. It’s pretty interesting…
Between trying to figure out how to become a German citizen based on Mom’s birth certificate, move to the UK, find a job, Mapquesting just about every location possible in both the UK (not strictly London) and greater Boston, the gay sex, and the stuff on how to murder a person (There’s a case!lock fic in my future, too. It’s being outlined now. It’s the first story I’ve actually outlined before writing… My muse REALLY likes that I haven’t gotten any negative feedback yet.), I’m sure there’s a list somewhere and I’m on it.
I’d like to extend a huge thanks to the gay men who host websites that focus on how to write pr0n, the forensic scientists who tell the clueless how blood spatter works and how to identify what sort of bullets/knives leave specific wounds, and the rest of the specialists who have written how-tos on anything else you can think of.
Actually, I’d be remiss without thanking all my fellow fan fic writers on tumblr who keep pointing me in the “write” directions (I misspelled it so many times, I’m leaving it there.) with their endless reblobbing of these links and articles. So, thank you, tumblr folk!
I think I’ve stalled enough. It’s time to go figure out how to write the mechanics of sticking something somewhere stuff ain’t meant to be stuck AND keep it to a T-rating. I’m not writing full on, overly graphic PWP. As much as I don’t mind reading it, it’s not something I’m comfortable writing.
(Does anyone know where the title of this entry came from? I’ll give you a cookie if you can tell me!)
That was one of the hardest phone screens I’ve ever done. It was hard to separate being a sports fan from working for the arena which has absolutely nothing to do with the teams.
In my favor, however, was my experience in pro hockey and working with the ownership of the Toledo Sports Arena.
The job feels a little beneath me, and I’m sure I botched the interview. Plus, there are a shit ton of people vying for this job. (I’ll bet the majority want to work IN sports, not for the company that houses the teams’ battlegrounds. There’s a difference.)
One of my recruiters called me this morning and tried to talk me out of accepting the offer at the industry company. (I haven’t even gotten it yet!)
After that one-two punch, I’m feeling pretty unsettled.
I just want this to end.
As much as I don’t want to, I should probably go ruck for a bit. The clock is ticking and focusing on not dying during the challenge will keep my mind off my shitty job search.
I was told by a woman I knit with that I was crazy to even look at working in Boston.
Um, that’s where the jobs are… do you really think I’m enjoying the idea of having to commute by train?! For up to two hours depending on how far I need to travel?
Today’s second interview went well, but he kept harping on my marketing degree.
I can’t tell if he was confused by my creative/logical duality or just fascinated that I would choose accounting over the exciting world of advertising.
I got a taste of what my evening commute would be and I’m worried… I’d forgotten that on I-93 the breakdown lanes are legit travel lanes between 3-7 PM. BECAUSE FOUR LANES OF MASSHOLES AREN’T ENOUGH DURING RUSH HOUR. There needs to be an easier/better/safer way to get from here to there.
There’s two of us in contention for this position, and I think I have a good shot, but 93 has the potential to be a deal breaker.
Plus, I haven’t heard back from the retirement place or had the first interview (re)scheduled for the cost job.
I don’t know what I should do… I don’t know what I want to do…
