What happened to me?

A lot has happened. I lost my job, and that turned out to be a good thing. As it turns out, I hated that job, and I don't miss it. I miss the paycheck a lot, but for $3126 per month? That much pain? Not worth it at all.

I have also been doing some, oh, mental and physical inventory in an effort to somehow get myself back to where I was before the Recent Unpleasantness*.

Guess what? At the moment in my life when I thought I was the most plain and dreary looking, I looked like this:



I was so terribly insecure. I actually thought having those hips made me fat. Ha ha ha ha ha ha. So not funny.

How are you?

* That whore my father married has sold our house, and moved back to the old neighborhood, and gee it's a good thing I don't have that horrible job anymore because she has been lunching with my former coworkers and telling them what a terrible person I am to have "done this to her." Whatever could she mean?

Help me decide

My brother has pissed me off by suggesting that my running days are over. That I can't handle it anymore. That my knees can't handle it anymore. Blah blah. In response I have decided to jog/walk/crawl, whatever it takes, another marathon.

I want a January marathon to mark my birthday. Top contenders are:

1) Miami Marathon - it's Miami, after all.

2) Carlsbad Marathon - San Diego is perfect weather and terrain.

3) Angel Marathon - Boulder City, NV (never been there - sounds cool).

4) Disney World Marathon - magic kingdom??

5) Ocala Marathon - again, Florida is great for running (crawling, too).


Anyone have an opinion on this? Oh and to be clear, I will stomp my brother on this issue. Nothing pisses me off more than people who don't believe in me.

Love,

Nina

Try this

Cossette is getting married soon, as you all know if you read the previous post --- also, I just told you. So she is trying to get more exercise so she will look hot in her dress. OH. In case any of you care about such things:



If you are a girl or a woman or a friend of a girl or woman, you know you need some tight abs to look good in that dress. TIGHT. ABS.

So we've been having a little contest. Each day we hit the floor and do as many crunches as we can without stopping and email each other the number.

Reader, give it a try. Get on the floor, do as many crunches as you can without stopping, and comment your number. (No fibbing!) Highest number gets a present from me.

Perfect, perfect

Item the first: Please go immediately to P's blog and lavish upon her the love and devotion that is her due. Heaven never dreamed up a more beautiful bride. I mean it. Go and give love to the most beautiful bride in the history of marital perfection.

Item the second: I had grand plans for my future. They included me never going on another date as long as I lived, vacationing every year with my friend Cossette, playing board games together until we both grew old, selecting the same retirement community and dying at precisely the same moment of some painless and unknown ailment. It was the perfect plan.

Cossette met someone. Two months ago. And guess what? She is getting married in Vegas on the 21st of September. This is not perfect for me, but I have met the man who has destroyed my life's agenda, and I must say he is perfect for her. And about that, I could not be more pleased.

So now I need someone else to grow old with. Anyone play monopoly?

Back to Black

Many of you said you didn't like the black background, and I agreed with you, mostly. But the blog started black and when I started messing around with the template, everything else just seemed all wrong. So now we are back to black, if not permanently, for now.

More on fasting: I decided to fast for a week in order to shrink my stomach and start the weight loss process. Boy howdy, was that a good time. I made it six days. And you know what? My jeans were every bit as unwelcoming as they were the day I started.

So now I am eating again... but not much. Because I bought a scale. And if you know anything about me and my issues with numbers, you know I will be in constant competition with that scale to force it to give me a lower number. Because the current number?? Inexcusable. Totally and in every way unacceptable.

People, I used to be hot. Granted, I was 23 when the hotness was occurring, but I don't think it is too much to ask, at 40, to be recognizable as the same person who was hot as 23. The great fun of this, of course, is that when I was 23, I thought I was ugly.

Young folks everywhere: no matter what nature gave you, you look great. Enjoy the hell out of it.

Anyone out there think I can lose 20 pounds in 40 days? Because right now, my obsession with numbers says that is the goal. Oh and advice on how to do it is always welcome. And yes, I know the basic truth about weight loss: eat less; weigh less.

Love,

Nina

Wonder

I wonder, too. Where is she? Where is that other, better voice who thinks all this is a story, rather than an merely a break down? Where is the person who makes all the drama into four paragraphs that end in a joke? Where is the person who makes all my problems funny? Where the hell is Nina?

Well.

Nina's here. The reason she isn't saying much is that her primary fuel is intensity - usually negative intensity; she talks when things are the most scary, the most painful, the most chaotic.

Note here the absence of these from my life: fear, pain, chaos. I don't have these things. All I have is sweet, uninterrupted calm.

Ever since I lost my job (last day: August 8th), I just haven't felt anything but completely serene. This makes no sense at all - considering the following:

1) I have no job (August 8th).

2) I have no money (OK, I have a little - but it is owed elsewhere).

3) I have no one to fall back on (no parents, no spouse, no trust fund).

4) I have no ambition (unless you count remaining calm - this I fully intend to accomplish).


I think my cousin Meg said it best the other day when we were having lunch. I listed all the reasons I should be feeling bad and she said, "Eh. You have misery-fatigue. You're just out of bad emotions the way you might run out of milk or eggs. You'll feel bad again someday. Probably just not any time soon."

Is that not about the smartest thing you've ever heard? I told her she was perfectly right. I just don't have anything frenetic and scary in my nervous system - so Nina has nothing to say unless I teach her to speak another language.

I didn't realize it at the time, but when I posted that picture of me in Iceland, I posted the last image of me ever taken before my dad got sick. That picture (2006) is therefore the last known image of me feeling good until very recently, when I started, due to misery-fatigue, to feel perfectly fine.

I'd take a picture but I've gained weight and - oh my God - did I tell you I bought a scale so I could see how bad it was?? HOLY BABY RHINO. I am going to lose weight even if it takes a chainsaw.

Next post will be about THAT. Or THIS (Nina looks down at her inexcusable breasts) and how much less (or is that fewer??? - Ugh, the grammar of them - there needs to be)) and how she plans to go back to normal. Hint: fasting causing hallucination and panic and sometimes just mundane hunger.

How are you?

(I feel pretty much awesome, in case that wasn't clear).

Three minute post

My flight boards in three minutes, so I have three minutes to tell you that my boss offered to write me a letter of recommendation and I now have until December to decide what to do.


This is welcome news.

Also, I am more confused than ever about what to do. But at least now I have more time to be confused.

Here is a picture for you:



That is me, Tex, and Tess in Iceland. Very overserved.

I love you because you are so beautiful, and I can't help myself.

I'm available

No. Not in that way. Stop looking at me like that.

As of eleven days ago, I no longer have a job. Oh wait, I do, but only until August. Then I will be most assuredly available (unless I want to move to North Carolina.) (Which I most assuredly do not.)

Everything but my wallet says I should not go there - that I should stay here and try to make my way, somehow. Any which way.

And y'all know what? I have no idea how to do that.

For starters, I don't think I want to teach anymore. I have been beyond burned out for a long time. People (almost everyone I know) say I should finish my doctorate. Ha! Those people think "getting my doctorate" is something as simple as running out for a jar of peanut butter. (IT"S TOTALLY NOT! IT'S A COMPLETE PAIN IN THE ASS!)

So what should Nina do? (She is open to suggestions.) (But maybe hold off on telling her to get her doctorate.)

While I Wait

I have about $200 worth of prescription medication being filled right now, and gosh I don't know whether to feel grateful that such medication exists or melancholy because the reality is I need all that stuff to keep me... alive. Well, let's go with gratitude, since gratitude is more attractive than self loathing.

Speaking of attraction, suddenly I am questioning my "celibate for life" policy based on nothing but the fact that celibacy now seems somewhat severe. Sometimes (often... always) when I am at the gym, I look at the men in the pool and consider whether they are my type or not. People, I haven't had a type since Bill Clinton was president. What to do about this? Should I start applying lipstick again? Should I try to get into my skinny jeans and attempt to be attractive? I really don't know. More on this later.

Oh! I moved. A block away from my job. Two days ago I got the worst performance review in the history of my career, but since I am focusing on the positive, we'll just not talk about that. Well, not today.

Caution! Here is what could happen to your apartment if you go to graduate school a whole lot:



Oh and I bought a dresser that fit perfectly into my apartment. (Please note that I had to buy children's furniture in order to accomplish this.)



One more! My bed matches the dresser. Maybe if I fit into my skinny jeans and start wearing lipstick again I will meet a man person who will tolerate a full size bed. Full beds are kind of small for two people. (What the hell am I talking about? Celibate! Forever!)





See you... next time.

Love,

Nina

Snow, weirdness, pancakes

It snowed about a foot in New York City last night and today it is still... snowing. I wonder how this will impact my move to the new place. (And no, Karl, the drawing was definitely not to scale).

Here are some real pictures for you.




I know these are not very helpful, but it is a small apartment. As much as I am excited, I have an underlying feeling of dread. It has taken some time for me to sort it out, but I now realize the dread comes from having something to lose again, even if it is just furniture and dishes that match. So lately I have to kick myself in the ass about twice a day to remind myself that people do indeed buy furniture and utensils and bath mats and trash cans, and that no, owning these things does not make me frivolous and wasteful. Does it??? I am clearly not a very good consumer.

It's still snowing and I haven't gotten much packing done this morning. So the obvious thing to do is make pancakes. Flip! See you tomorrow.

Dig if you will...

OK.

It's a drawing.




This is where I am moving on Saturday. It has been a long time coming. (Don't be sad if you can't quite understand the floor plan. It confuses me too.

Since you are here, go give a big kiss to Adam, who recently moved also. Times are a' changin' for him, too.

Love,

Nina

Owning the slow lane

Today I went to the gym. (I have gone to the gym every day since January 1st). (I am still not hot).

But so anyway I was at the gym and I figured since I had the swim suit with me I would swim laps after my normal work out, you know, sort of like bonus calorie burning.

(Digression: I swam competitively in college, which is to say I drank a whole lot and then compensated for it by showing up to practice each afternoon and gasping my way through a division three work out in the SLOW lane. I was never in it for crushing other people with my speed and prowess. I was into detoxification and, to be perfectly honest... perfect form. I thought of nothing as I swam those laps (NOTHING! NOTHING!) except perfect form (oh and maybe should I sleep with my BFF's boyfriend... yes or no?).

So today dove into the slow lane and OH MY...

I cannot begin to tell you what the water felt like. Memories of all those mid afternoons and early mornings spent lapping back and forth across the pool rushed back my limbs and suddenly I was half way across the pool and oh my God... it was, no joke, heaven. If there is a heaven, mine has a long course swimming pool. With the little flags over the top for backstrokers.

Happy. Glide, glide, breathe glide, flip, glide, etc.

Then someone else got in my lane, and that is when the second most unexpected thing happened. I got, how you say, aggressive. Almost hostile. I had to be faster than she was and I made damn sure I was. Glide, glide, breathe flip truned into a ferocious attention to gaining time on the turns and stepping up tempo and breathing efficiently SO I COULD CRUSH THE ENEMY.

(I crushed her).

But seriously, I was surprised at myself. A lot. I haven't seen that person in a long, long time. In college, I owned the slow lane. I was the fastest person in it and my form was exquisite, but I lost races. I was just not that fast. I lived with it. I had big boobs and I drank a lot so I figured I was doing the best I could given my physical and personal limitations.

But now, at forty, with even bigger boobs, and serious limitations I won't even begin to list, all that losing has caught up with me. I don't want to be slow anymore. Or medium with good form WHATEVER ALREADY. I want to win.

And all this has me thinking: what happened? I am not competitive. I don't compare myself to others. I feel good about others' achievements. I like not standing out. RIGHT?

Well, hell if I know. In the pool at least, I am just not that person anymore. It makes me wonder what else about me is changing. (I'll take change. Pretty much everything about me is material for revision).

Love love love. It's the only thing that matters. (Ok, that and winning).

Hair place

If you have an iPhone you can post while you are getting your hair done. And if that doesn't convince you to get an iPhone, I am very sorry for you.

Julie tells me I should abandon my flailing redesign efforts, move to wordpress, get my own URL, and rethink the mission statement of the blog. I expect she is correct. After all, it's previous usefulness has exhausted itself. The self destruction is complete. (I am now rebuilding. Watching people rebuild is so boring).

Remember when I said I was going to write a novel? But then never said another word about it?

It turns out that writing a novel is hard, but not in the way I expected it to be. Writing is no problem. All the emotional crap it dredges up is both surprising and, well, weird. Sort if like swimming up hill. Will I post some of it? Meh. Probably.

Have an excellent day. I am headed for the shampoo bowl.

I am an idiot

I was thinking in the shower today. (Naked! Naked!)

I am an idiot. Here's why:

1) I have a hard time drinking water and breathing at the same time. Seriously. I turn blue.

2) I can make out with a guy and like, have his tongue in my mouth, but I'll break up with him if he expects me to eat off the same fork. That is SO gross.

3) I am afraid of the sound of toilets flushing in the dark. But ONLY when it is dark out.

4) I cry EVERY SINGLE TIME I watch the episode of LOST when Charlie dies.

5) I watch LOST.

6) Oh my God.

7) I am totally fine with how fat I have gotten, yet I won't wash my hair more than twice a week because I don't want it to get "damaged". UH... could I be more damaged... like... everywhere else?

8) Speaking of idiotocity, I put SEVEN different things on my face each day to prevent aging. I am going to be FORTY in ten days. Ten days, people. The bell has rung.

9) I am forty and I still have daddy issues.

10) I am forty and I still count fat grams and calories (note how little good it does me).


Anyone else feel stupid today?

(I love you).

Nina

Are we getting anywhere?

Is this any better? I think it looks pretty awful, but I am used to the dark and storminess. Is the red doing anything for anyone?? The white background?

Also: I believe that novels, like all essays, should have thesis statements. My current working thesis:

If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you. If you do not bring forth what is within you, what you do not bring forth will destroy you.


The quotation comes from the apocryphal Gospel of Thomas. If Jesus really said this, and I hope he did say it... uh, Jesus you are absolutely correct. If you don't give what you have, all that havingness will come back and bite you square in the ass. Destruction is certain.

Another note: thinking about writing the book has been fun because WOW have I done great work in the area of being angry and blaming others for everything. Since I take comedy any way I can get it, I have been getting lots and lots of laughs making notes for this book. Let me know if you want special tips in the area of blaming others or feeling viciously and sadistically persecuted. I have special skills in these areas.

I love you just because you are you, but also because you are beautiful, and I can't help myself (and because you show up here and read about my badness).

Love,

Nina

Ignore the weirdness

I am trying to re-jigger the template. I haven't decided what should go where yet, but here we are for now. (Maybe a day, tops).