One Day

I'm on holiday in Hawaii and I'm already properly sunburned.  I guess that's what happens when the best of "summer" comprises a few days in the 70s.  So, naturally I arrived in Hawaii albino white and primed for a nasty burn.  All it took was 9 holes of golf and now I have an awkward and painful splotches of redness on my arms and legs.  It hurts to sit.

For the last two days I've put myself on the sidelines and have spent them enjoying the best of American cable TV (Bravo, HGTV, and the Food Network--holla!) and reading.  This morning I picked up the book One Day and I didn't put it down until it was finished.  If you haven't read it yet, I strongly recommend it. Don't be discouraged by the fact that it will soon be a movie starring Anne Hathaway speaking in an awful Yorkshire accent, it's awesome.

The book follows the relationship between two people, Emma and Dexter, from their first meeting when they're 22 and then revisits them each year on the same day.  Sometimes they're together, sometimes apart.  Their relationship goes through ups and downs--friendship, love, fights--as they struggle with what life throws at them.  All through the book you see the incredible bond and love that is between them.  There was frustration when things were left unsaid, when lies were told and there was elation when things were out in the open, when things were going their way.  

And it takes them a long time to get to a good place: years go by before truths come out, feeling are unmasked.  In a way it seems like a lot of time is wasted when feelings were bubbling below the surface the whole time.  And the entire time I was reading the book I couldn't help but think about how much I could relate to Em and Dex. I suppose a lot of people must identify--the book is a smashing success and soon to be a Hollywood movie. But I can't help but wondering: am I like Em or Dex, wasting my time protecting myself from life? Should I be more honest?  With myself? With others?  When it it right to say how I feel and when should I keep my mouth shut?  

I guess these are questions we all grapple with.  I think I've been thinking about this a lot because I'm nearing 30 and having a 1/3 life crisis (hopefully--I plan to live a long long time). Am I preventing myself from really living? Am I shielding myself from happiness because I fear the pain? At one point in the book Em reflects that its too hard to live each day like its the last--too draining both physically and emotionally. But maybe I need to take a few more risks, at least with my heart. Maybe not today, when moving is still excruciatingly painful. But maybe one day... soon.

Agency

I’ve been thinking a lot about the degree of agency I have in my life.  How much do I make things happen versus how often do I passively accept things that “happen” to me?  

I got on this line of thinking after I found out that my work contract wasn’t going to be renewed.  It was time to look for a new job and I had a lot of decisions to make.  Did I want to get a corporate job?  Did I still want to do marketing or would I do something else?  Did I want to start my own business?  

In the end, a lead from a headhunter resulted in a job offer, which I am accepting.  The timing was perfect--it coincided exactly with when my old job was ending.  But in a way I wonder if it was too perfect.  Because this job (which I am very excited about) landed on my lap, I never really had to make the tough decision.  

And that’s when I realised that I don’t really make tough decisions.  I certainly set myself up for things to happen--someone had to contact that headhunter in the first place, for example--but generally I go with the flow.  I’ve always just accepted events as fate: if something didn’t work out it was not meant to be, or the opposite.  

I wonder where I got this mindset.  Am I just a passive person?  I know I’m not particularly ambitious--my goals are less around status and more around lifestyle.  I want certain things for myself but achieving them hasn’t come at the cost of other people or opportunities.  For example, I wanted to live in London and I figured that graduate school was the best way to make the transition.  So I applied to a program and was accepted.  Choosing to enroll was a no-brainer.  

I think things are different when it comes to my career.  If I think about it in terms of my performance in organisations, any time I’ve tried to push for a promotion or job opportunity the results haven’t been so great for me.  Part of that could have been company culture, however.  In general, my work philosophy has become more laid-back.  If I keep my head down, work hard, achieve results, and get along with people good things should come.  If they don’t, I should move companies.  

That said, there is also a case for some active work on my part regarding my career direction.  I’ve been pushing to move into marketing ever since graduate school.  My first role out of school wasn’t in marketing, but my new role is.  In part I think that was because I was patient and persevered.  So, in theory I shouldn’t be feeling completely like a mindless drone.

I guess the next area of examination for me is with relationships.  I remember the first time I asked a boy out.  In ninth grade I liked a boy named Dan Carlson and I passed him a note in World History class telling him I liked him.  He pretended like he never saw the note and ignored me.  AWKWARD.  I’ve tried expressing my feelings to guys a few more times since then, but I’ve always been rejected.  

Now I am quite gun-shy.  I take a much more passive role when it comes to expressing interest.  I really do expect men to take the lead in asking me out.  Unfortunately I’m very bad at giving them encouragement.  I can barely make eye contact with men when I first meet them and I’m horrible at flirting with men that I actually fancy.  I know this is a bit of a recurring theme with me (see Winter Winds post), but I’m clearly having trouble working through it.  My brain knows what to do, but I can’t seem to put it into action!

So, what’s the resolution?  I think that I’m less passive than I think I am.  I don’t have to make many “tough” decisions probably because the decisions I make don’t seem tough to me, even though they might be under other circumstances.  But I do need to take more control in areas where I’m feeling unhappy.  Right now, that’s the love life.  Speed dating anyone?

Memoirs

Right now I’m retired.  I left my job the other week and I have a month off before my next job begins.  My plan is for self improvement:  exercise, museums, reading, generally taking care of myself.  I know I’ve been very bad about the blogging lately.  The anxiety of not having a job really held me back.  I kind of lost my sense of humor for a while and I didn’t have the energy to write.  But now that I’m in the clear I’m feeling good about getting back into things.  And I have grand ambitions.  

So, the other week I went to Texas to celebrate my grandfather’s 90th birthday.  Now, that’s a milestone!  Luckily for me, my family has good genes.  My grandmother is 87 and, apart from poor hearing, is healthy as a horse.  On the other side of the family, my grandfather died at 94 and my grandmother in her late 80s.  I had two great-grandmothers make it into their 90s.  Unless I get hit by a bus I should live a long time.

Anyways, my mother has been pestering my grandpa about writing his memoirs.  This has been exacerbated by the fact that his eyesight is failing so he’s been doing oral histories.  During one of his stories he mentioned that people should start their memoirs earlier as it gets harder and harder to remember details.  

This has started me thinking that I should begin writing my memoirs.  The other night I couldn’t sleep so I gave this even more thought.  How would I organize my memoirs--would I go chronologically or would it be thematic?  Would I offer my thoughts and opinions on things or stick to recounting stories mainly as they happened?  Would I talk about sex?

That last one got me stumped.  It made me realize that I need to consider my audience.  I guess I figured it would be my kids and grandkids reading the memoirs someday... unless of course I become wildly famous, at which point people of all kinds will be clamoring to read my life story.  But, since I don’t even have so much as a boyfriend right now and I’m pushing 30, the frightening thought is that I might never have kids or grandkids, that there will be no one to read my memoirs.  

Fuck it, I’m going to do it anyways, just for myself.  A while back I found my old journal, which I kept when I was in middle school.  Most of my entries were about my first boyfriend, Justin.  They were things like “When I look at the moon I think that Justin is seeing it too so even though we’re apart we’re together” and “When I hear Mariah Carey’s song Can’t Live if Living is Without You I think of Justin and how he dedicated that song to me at the school dance” and “I think Catherine is trying to flirt with Justin, I better keep an eye on that.”  Really sappy stuff for the most part and very funny to re-read.  

So, my memoirs are going to be my retirement project.  As will blogging.  Facing unemployment I had to force myself to think about what I want to do with my life.  I considered dropping everything and becoming a barista or a cheese packager.  Because let’s face it, a lot of my life revolves around food.  It’s something I care about.  But I’ve always been afraid that doing something food-related for a job would have bad outcomes for me: 1)  I’d get fat and 2) turning something I love into my job would somehow kill my love and leave me bitter and despondent, an empty husk of a person (though possibly skinny after turning from food in favor of drugs).  So, I’m going to try to focus this blog on food--stories about my relationship with food, both good and warped, etc.  I probably won’t write just about food--I can’t help where inspiration strikes--but I have a feeling that food will be a strong theme running through this blog (like it sort of is already).  

Beam Me Up, Scotty

A friend and I like to joke that we are obese people in slim bodies.  Of course, mine wasn’t always very slim and the possibility that I could get fat again is very real.  The mindset about food hasn’t changed, but I’m working on managing it and my behaviour. 

In my support group the other week we talked about our struggles with maintaining a healthy weight.  Many of us articulated this idea of freedom—we want to be able to live without being afraid of food, afraid of ourselves around food.  For me, freedom would be choosing the healthy option on the menu and not feeling like I’m missing out on something better.  Freedom would also involve being able to eat a bit of something I love and not being tempted to devour the lot.

I fetishise food.  My equivalent of porn is reading cookbooks and restaurant menus.  Today I was browsing the menu of Marcus Wareing’s restaurant at the Berkeley and practically had an orgasm when I reached suckling pig.  Right now I’m fantasizing about a champagne dinner at Kettner’s.

One of the main reasons I fetishise feed is because, for some reason, I think food is scarce.  I’m not one to blame my parents for my issues, but I do wonder if it is in part because I’ve been on some diet or other since I was a small child.  Anyways, this mindset has a whole host of repercussions.  I can’t stand the idea of food going bad.  It’s very hard for me to throw food away.  I’d rather eat even if I’m not hungry than see something spoil.  And above all else, I DO NOT SHARE FOOD.  If I’m in a food-sharing situation, like tapas, I’m greedily watching how much other people eat while at the same time berating myself if I think I’ve taken more than my fair share.  It’s not a pleasant situation.

I’ve been trying to work on this crooked thinking—this all or nothing mentality that if I don’t eat something, it’ll never be available to me ever again.  It’s tough work.  I get fixated on the thought of eating something, and it’s very hard to get it out of my head.  The past few weeks have been especially tough.  I’m currently working a contract job and it’s ending at the end of the month.  It can’t come too soon.  I’m so incredibly bored with what I’m doing.  I dread going in to work every day, wondering how I’m possibly going to fill the time.  Because if I’m not busy, guess what I’m thinking about.  I’m not going to lie—the boredom has definitely led to some snacking.  I’m trying not to have any cash to prevent myself from buying treats.  It’s exhausting.

My fantasy is that, after I’ve lead a full life, I’m going to let myself get fat.  In fact, I’m going to enjoy my golden years by growing morbidly obese.  The plan is that eventually I will develop a fatal case of sleep apnea.  What a way to go.  Then I’ll be cut out of my house and ejected into space where worms and flames can’t get me.  I have the funny image in my head of the obese 90-year-old me crashing into the window of a space shuttle, the astronauts trying to get me off by flipping the windshield wipers.

This and That

So, this is likely to be a bit of a hodge-podge of a post.  I wanted to provide an update on the vegetarian diet and stuff, but also wanted to post on some fun, cheap stuff going on in London.

First, the diet.  I’ve settled into being mostly vegetarian, with the occasional piece of seafood.  I actually haven’t found it that difficult.  I can’t say I miss meat all that much.  Its only annoying when I’m going out to eat and I want to find something veggie that doesn’t have too many carbs!  It seems like vegetarian options usually involve rice, bread, or pasta... how annoying!  Hence the fish.  Its a healthy option, and its not like I’m going “vegetarian” for ethical reasons.  I guess this makes me pescatarian? 

Anyways, the low carb, low fat, mostly veggie diet has been working!  Since I’ve gone back to my support group I’ve been weighed on a weekly basis and I’ve lost 2 kg!  Yay!  I’m already feeling so much better about my body, its amazing.  Which is good, because the weather has been amazing.

This weekend was pretty chill for me, but I had a really good time being outdoors in the sunshine.  This is London, when its sunny you have to take advantage of it.  First off, I saw a Banksy!  He recently painted on a wall near the BT Tower, and luckily the art has been preserved with plexiglass (as opposed to being painted over) so we can all enjoy it!  Its on the corners of Cleveland and Clipstone Streets in Fitzrovia.  

On Saturday I went to the South Bank Centre.  They’ve set up a beach along the Thames Path there, so you can have a seat by the river and stick your feet in the sand:

Pardon my vein-y feet.  Photo colors are a bit off, blame the iPhone.

They also have a bunch of bars set up.  Dishoom, an Indian street food restaurant, has set up a pop-up bar there that serves drinks, kulfi (Indian ice cream), and street food snacks.  There is a really cute garden on the top of Queen Elizabeth Hall and they’ve set up a bar there, too.  Then there are the regular bars, like the one at Royal Festival Hall and in front of the BFI.  The area was packed and its a great place to enjoy the sun.

Today I took an 8km walk that was fantastic.  I love walking, especially in London on a nice day.  I walk everywhere if I have the time--most days I walk about 5km from Euston Station to my home near London Bridge.  If I’m going anywhere in Central London--Covent Garden, Soho, Oxford Street, or even the Kensington area (South Ken or Kings Road), I’ll walk.  I happened to be at a friend’s in Earl’s Court today and decided to take a walk home that took advantage of some of London’s parks.  So here’s some of the highlights of the route:

1) Hyde Park
2) Green Park
3) Buckingham Palace
4) St James Park
5) Parliament and Big Ben
6) Westminster Bridge
7) London Eye!
8) Leake St (go here to see the latest graffiti)

Watching Paint Dry

So, I know I haven’t posted anything in awhile.  I actually wonder if anyone’s still reading.  I know that I typically drop reading blogs when the updates become more infrequent.  

Anyways, the cause of my reticence is twofold:

1)  Things have been plain boring lately.  That’s not to say that I haven’t been doing stuff, but is has been fairly routine.  If you were to ask me what I’ve been up to, I’d be at a loss to say more than “the usual.”  Even my dreams are boring!  I usually don’t remember my dreams, but lately I’ve woken up in the middle of them and I remember two:  one about being late for something and one about my fingernails.  Yes, I dreamt about my nails.  Who knows!  Maybe the other nights I’m dreaming about paint drying.  What an exciting life I lead.

2)  I’ve been busy at work.  This is a good thing for the most part... idle hands and all that.  But I was using my downtime to think and sometimes to write for my blog.  So, that time has gone out the window.  And by the time I get home/go to the gym/have dinner its after 9 PM and I don’t really have the energy to share my wisdom with you, my lovely audience.  Thanks for reading, Mom!


Anyways, I do have something to write about today.  As part of my plan to take my life back--ok, that’s an exaggeration... As part of my plan to get my weight under control I started going back to Lighter Life meetings.  Lighter Life is the program that I used to lose my weight over a year ago.  The meetings are weekly and I guess they’re like Weight Watchers meetings or whatever.  But I like going.  Donna, my counselor, is so amazing:  she’s warm and super caring.  We often talk about the psychology of overeating, coping strategies, and nutrition--all of which I find very useful.

In today’s meeting we were talking about having a plan for losing and maintaining weight--what resources, skills, support do we need?  My big thing is that I need to make weight holding into a lifestyle.  And that’s when it dawned on me:  my previous method for maintaining my weight--rigorous calorie counting--was not an effective lifestyle.  It was a way to live, but it was miserable.

When I was calorie counting I took planning to an extreme.  I planned my calorie intake for the entire day, often the night before.  And I also planned my exercise.  There was no room for flexibility.  And it made those times that I did veer off the plan--dinner out, a day when I didn’t go to the gym--into treats.  And these things shouldn’t be treats.  Eating should be about nourishing your body.  It should be tasty and enjoyable.  But its not a treat.  Exercise should be part of an active lifestyle--being lazy on the couch shouldn’t be a treat either.  If I wanted a treat, it should have been something else.  

Anyways, I’ve mentioned before that the eating and weight problems started again when I was feeling sorry for myself when stranded at Christmas.  I was sad, so I treated myself.  With the wrong things.  And that made me fatter, which made me sad, which caused me to treat myself to get that psychological boost.  It was a vicious cycle.  In the words of Fat Bastard:  “I eat because I’m unhappy and I’m unhappy because I eat.”

So, I think that I need to develop a plan that is more flexible so I don't start fetishising food and laziness again.  I need a plan that isn’t about calorie counting.  One where I don’t have to plan everything out in advance.  One that can be easily accommodated in restaurants.  Hence the vegetarianism.  

And I’m going to find new treats.  Not sure what they’ll be, but it seems that my nails are on my mind, so maybe a manicure is a good place to start.

Winter Winds

There’s this song by Mumford and Sons called “Winter Winds” that has really struck a chord with me.  The song is about reconciling head and heart--in this case the head wants love, but the heart doesn’t follow.  Its pretty melancholy but offers hope that spring will heal all wounds with new love.

But that’s not what struck me this evening as I was listening to the song on my walk home.  Its the second verse:

We'll be washed and buried one day my girl

And the time we were given will be left for the world

The flesh that lived and loved will be eaten by plague

So let the memories be good for those who stay

It really reminds me that we’re only on this Earth for a short time, and we need to live life to the fullest.  I shouldn't be embarrassed to put myself out there.  My time will come to an end, so why should I waste one second of it?  

This isn’t a new thought.  I’ve really started to feel this way in the past year when it comes to relationships.  For a while I dated this guy Jacob and I really tried to live by the “life is too short to waste time” mantra.  It was revelatory.  I didn’t play games.  I told him what I wanted.  I felt liberated.  

Prior to that I’d also decided not to waste time with a guy I was interested in and I told him that I liked him.  Sadly he didn’t return the feelings, but I felt good that I had resolution and that I wasn’t wasting time hoping for something that wasn’t going to happen.

Flash forward to the last few months.  That guy who rejected me mentioned that he didn’t remember the conversation we had!  The context of the conversation was about how we should date and I said something along the lines of “you rejected me” and he was like “you never told me you liked me.”  Unfortunately the tone wasn’t serious, so I don’t know how much truth there was to what he said.  While I’m not holding out for him, I still like him a great deal and am curious as to where things could lead.  But now I’m scared!  He rejected me once... I’d feel like a fool to get rejected again because I misinterpreted things.  

I have to say, I’m a bit disappointed in myself.  I’ve let my old habits creep back in.  I’ve let embarrassment and self-preservation instinct hold me back.  I haven’t been as direct as I’d want.  I’m not “taking the bull by the horns.”  

So, I’ve been listening to “Winter Winds” on repeat trying to figure things out.  I don’t have any answers yet.  But the song helps me think.  If you haven’t heard it, its a beautiful song.  

Capital

I think I lack career capital.  Now, I’m not sure if that’s an actual term but it’s one I’ve coined to explain my predicament.  So, what do I mean?

Have you ever heard the term cultural capital?  I don’t remember where I learned it, but I’ve interpreted it as knowledge of how the system works.  So, if you have cultural capital, then you can use your knowledge of the system to your advantage.  I always heard it in the context of students—kids with cultural capital did relatively well in school.  They knew how to study, how to manage their time, which classes to take, how to take tests.  They did all the right things.  They look good on paper. 

I think I probably have cultural capital.  I graduated fourth in my class from high school (out of over 800 kids), I got over 1500 on my SATs, I went to an Ivy League college, I was inducted into Phi Beta Kappa, and I went to a top business school.  All the right things.

So, why am I where I am?  If you look at my educational record you might conclude that I’m fairly bright (does that sound egotistical?), organised, motivated—a high achiever.  So, why haven’t I achieved anything in my working life?

This is where career capital comes in.  Just as how I knew how to navigate the educational system, I have no idea how to navigate employment. 

I think most of my current problems could have been avoided if I understood the mechanics of the employment market when I was looking for my first job.  If I could go back and talk to my 20-year-old self, these are the things I’d impart. 

·         Don’t study Art History unless you really want to be an art historian!  Suck it up and study Engineering, Econonimcs or Business or something.

·         Work for a company with good name recognition; it doesn’t matter what you do as long as the name is prestigious.  That will open a lot of doors.

·         Join a graduate program.  This will get you a lot of exposure and help you find where your interest lies. 

I think that these points sound cynical.  And it’s not as much fun as what I did.  But I’m pretty sure that if I’d followed this path I’d be in a different place career-wise than I am today.  I am surprised my dad didn’t tell me these things when I was looking for a job.  Perhaps he was thrown off by my Art History degree (he studied Econ in university). 

He also always said it didn’t matter so much what you studied in college; that I could always go back for a master’s.  That’s probably mostly true.  In a way I had the rich-kid blessing/curse.  My parents could afford to send me to college without a scholarship and I didn’t need to study something pre-professional to enter the business world and pay back loans.  So I studied what I love (art and culture) even though I learned early on that I didn’t have the appetite for the amount of schooling it would require to have a career I didn’t want in those fields (I determined early on that I wasn’t going to like being an Art Historian or Anthropologist/Archaeologist).  I was a bit lost when I left college, as I couldn’t see how my studies would translate into gainful employment.  I ended up at a boutique consultancy, which as a crash-course in the business world.  And, like my dad said, I eventually went back for a Master’s to round out my business acumen and boost my resume. 

But the b-school experience has done little to help me build a new career.  Reading between the lines of job postings, interviews, acceptances, and rejections I’ve come to the conclusion that those first few years of employment count for almost everything.  They shape the opportunities that you can have and what you can’t.  It’s all superficial.  While I could do most of the jobs I’ve applied for, I haven’t gotten them because I didn’t have the “right” industry experience, the “right” work experience, the “right” company names on my CV, etc.  Post-college, I haven’t done any of it “right.”

Now, some of it is the career capital problem.  But I do share the blame.  Another part of my problem is that I don’t have a clear direction.  I’m interested in so many things that I find it hard to choose.  And I’m a commitment-phobe—I don’t want to go whole-hog into one career because I fear that I’ll hate it or tire of it and be unable to transition to another field.  So, I walk the tightrope.  I dabble in this and that, gain a smattering of experience, but nothing really builds. 

And then there’s the whole networking thing.  I hate it.  I feel really awkward asking people for help in finding jobs.  I’m not good at selling myself.  My lack of self-confidence really shows through.  The self-confidence I don’t have because I know I haven’t done it all “right.”

Veggie Day 3

So, today is day number three of being a vegetarian.  So far, so good.  I haven’t really been craving any meat, and I haven’t been feeling massively hungry either.  I’m not sick of salad yet, though I’m sure that will come.  So far, my diet looks like:

Breakfast:  Fruit smoothie and decaf coffee(s)

Lunch:  Salad and tomatoes to snack on

Snack:  Miso soup or tea with milk

Dinner:  Cooked vegetables (broccoli, asparagus, mushrooms), stuffed peppers, salad, soup (tomato, vegetable, carrot & coriander, broccoli & cheddar, etc.)

Yesterday I had an adventure at the grocery store.  I don’t want to get sick of vegetables, so I went in search of vegetarian foods.  I bought vegetarian sausages and burger patties.  My local shops don’t carry tofu (grr!) but I was able to find some pre-marinated and sliced tofu that I can put in stir-fry.  I also bought a bunch of quorn.  I was introduced to quorn after I finished my Lighter Life diet—it’s pretty unappealing on its own but if you mix it with tomato sauce and spices its actually pretty tasty!  I haven’t opened any of my new foods yet, but I plan to give them a shot over the weekend.  Food experiments—my favourite!

Catching Up

So, things have been really busy lately.  We’ve had two four-day weekends in a row.  The first long weekend, I went to Dublin.  This past weekend, I was in New York.  So, no blogging for me.  That said, I’ve stored up some good topics so look for some writing to be coming in the next few days... probably after I get over my jetlag.

So, the new diet starts tomorrow.  The plan is to do mainly vegetarian diet with the occasional lean fish or chicken dish to add protein and keep me healthy.  One of my main concerns with going vegetarian is that I will end up eating a ton of bread and pasta.  I don’t want to go down that path, as with my PCOS I think eating high GI foods will mess up my insulin levels and I likely won’t lose any weight.  So, I’m planning to eat more hearty vegetables like mushrooms and to have more soups and broths to manage my hunger.  My other concern is that I’ll eat more cheese on this diet.  I want this diet to be both low-carb and low-fat, so I’m just not stocking it in my fridge.  With this in mind, I’m not going to calorie count this time around.  It gets really old really fast.  I don’t want to calorie count my whole life, so I need to learn to listen to my body and make good decisions without a food log in front of me.  I’ll post about the new diet once it gets underway--wish me luck!

Falling off the Wagon In Style (Well... in MY Style)

So, approximately 15 days after the meat diet (as I fondly call it) officially ended I broke down and had a carb feeding frenzy.  It was like a shark sensing blood in the water.  I ate like a bulimic on a binge, but I don’t purge.  It probably could have been a lot worse.  Mostly it involved a lot of cookie dough, and then some cookies that I grudgingly cooked to justify the cookie dough in the first place.  And. since I started the downward spiral, I thought I should at least make a proper go of it.  It didn’t hurt that my friend and I had reservations at a very nice restaurant the next day.  So, I gave myself license to just not care about it up through Easter.  Then I’ll have to care again.

The not caring part has actually been pretty hard.  I think I’m on a self-destructive streak, actually.   I’m getting heavier and it terrifies me.  But I can’t get my head straight.  I can’t keep to a diet and I’m less motivated than ever to hit the gym.  I’m worried about jeans getting tighter and about the way my clothes fit.  I’m noticing some changes in my body that have me feeling self-conscious and that makes me depressed.  To paraphrase Fat Bastard, I’m eating because I’m unhappy and I’m unhappy because I’m eating.  As much as I tell myself I’ll feel better if I can impose some sort of control over the situation, I just can’t do it.  Maybe deep down somewhere I don’t think I deserve to feel good about myself?  That I don’t deserve to look good?  I guess that would go along with my middle-of-the-road approach I described in my post on fear.  What a waste.

So, I’ve been doing this caring but not caring thing now for a few days.  Stuff is going in my mouth that I normally wouldn’t eat.  But since I’ve removed some of the stigma around the food I’ve actually been a bit more reasonable in the volumes I’ve consumed.  And I’ve actually gone to the gym or worked out every day that I’ve been eating more.  Its not nearly enough to cover the calories I’m taking in, but its something.  Somehow its easier to go to the gym now.  Strange.  

There have been two highlights of my freedom week so far.  The first is my lunch at Launceston Place, which is an amazing restaurant in the Kensington area.  I had super delicious short ribs and veal and my friend had consomme and beef.  Here are pictures of the short ribs and the beef.  We also ate lovely fresh baked bread, sweets, and booze.  It was lovely.  

Braised Short Ribs

Steak

The second highlight was my homemade bread and cheese.  Yes, I made my own cheese.  I’ve been obsessed with making cheese for a few weeks now and I’ve been looking into classes but haven’t found much.  Crazy, I know.  Who wouldn’t want to take cheese making classes?  Anyways, its super simple to make a soft cheese--mine tasted like a mild goat cheese or a more tangy cream cheese.  Here’s what you do:

1) Heat 1 litre of whole milk (optional add 100-200ml of cream) slowly to 80 degrees C, stirring constantly to prevent burning/film on top of the milk
2)  When milk reaches 80 degrees C, take it off the heat.  Pour in approx 350 ml of cultured buttermilk and 2 tsp of lemon juice.  
3)  Briefly stir and then let sit for 10 minutes undisturbed.
4)  Use a sieve to separate the curds and the whey.  Try to get most of the moisture out but letting the curds sit in the sieve over a pot for 30 minutes or so.
5)  Add 1 tsp of salt and any other desired spices, pack cheese into a jar, and refrigerate overnight.

To go with my cheese I also made bread using Mark Bittman’s no-knead bread recipe I got off the New York Times.  Here’s photos of my feast:

My pride and joy -- homemade bread and cheese

I do realise that eventually I have to sort myself out.  Right now the plan is that after Easter and some travel I have coming up I’m going to go vegetarian.  I’ll be posting on my new diet experiment in early May.

Fear

Fear is holding me back.  I hate it, but I can’t seem to move past it.  When it doesn’t put me into ostrich mode (i.e., head in the sand), or deer-in-headlights mode (i.e., paralysis), it seems that I spend my time trying to circumvent it, being miserable, and then daydreaming to escape it. 

I think I’m afraid of both success and failure.  I just want to toe the middle.  Look at my current work situation.  I’m working a contract job that’s mostly unrewarding and not at all geared to what I want to do long-term.  I fear being unemployed when my contact ends, so I apply to a jobs in a half-assed manner.  I’ve given up on the stretch jobs, the ones that are what I really want to do but that I have zero chance of getting.  I apply to the jobs that are in adjacent fields, hoping that I have enough transferrable skills.  But they’re not what I really want to do.  And they may never lead to what I really want to do.

And then I think about what I’d want to do if I was fearless.  I want to have my own shop.  I want to sell cheese and cured meats, wines, specialty foods.  I want a store that has tastings and cooking classes and is part of the community.  If my store becomes successful, I’d want to branch out to have a farm where I can make my own cheese, bake my own bread.  And I’d have a small hotel where people can come to learn about food production and cooking.

So, then I think I should try to get experience in the grocery industry.  I read up on the management positions that would give me the income I’m accustomed to.  I don’t have the required experience.  That leaves me with entry level—around £20,000 a year.  And then fear sets in.  I know I would learn a lot, and I would put myself on a track to having my own store someday (or at least being in a management position at a retailer).  It’s a big risk.  It’s a lot of lost income.  And, given my track record, would I ever follow through?  If I got that job and took the salary hit, would I ever make it worth it and start my own shop someday?  I think about inertia, I think about my fear of success, and I think I’m doomed.

BFFs

One of my (many) faults is that I can be harsh and unforgiving.   I am at my worst when it comes to my friends.  I have certain expectations about friendship.  I think I have many of these expectations because I moved around a lot growing up.  Having these expectations about who friends are and what friends do helped me to make friends and to cope with leaving friends whenever I moved away.  

My criteria for friendship are pretty stringent.  Above and beyond a general rapport I look for friends who are smart, funny, genuine, loyal, and reliable.  Having these strict criteria meant that I only invested in a handful of relationships, which made it easier to say goodbye to a lot of people whenever I moved and also motivated me to maintain relationships with a select few that had the greatest likelihood of standing the test of time and distance. 

So, for as long as I can remember I’ve had small group of close friends and then I’ve maintained a wider group of “acquaintances.”  I really work hard at being friends with my close friends--I try to see them (or at least talk or email with them) on a regular basis, I like to give them small gifts to show my appreciation for their friendship, I’m loyal, I tell them that they’re awesome (they are), I try to support and encourage them as best I know how, and I try not to let them down.  

And here is where the unforgiving thing comes in.  I don’t expect my friends to go about maintaining our relationship in the exact same why that I do, but I do expect it to be a two-sided relationship.  It’s like cost-benefit analysis--if I’m paying all the costs (time, effort, emotion) and I’m not getting anything back (mostly I define returns as facetime—I just want to see/talk to you!), then why the hell am I wasting my time?  I’m pretty good at cutting friends—you have to be when you move every 3-4 years.  And that’s what I do when I feel like my overtures of friendship are not reciprocated:  I cut.

Now, I realise that this is very harsh.  I can cut for a lot of reasons that people might not understand.  If someone is flaky and cancels on me a lot when we make plans, they’re contenders for being cut.  If I feel like I’m always the one to ask a friend to do something (and he/she never asks me to do something), then I might think of cutting them.  One of my greatest pet peeves is friends who ditch me for a new girl/boyfriend.  If they don’t want to make an effort to maintain a friendship when they have a significant other, they shouldn’t expect me to make an effort to be friends when you’re single again.  For me that’s a sign that they don’t value my friendship.  I’m not being draconian here—I understand that people want to spend time with their new loves, but I don’t think that it has to be at the expense of other relationships.  If someone can’t be bothered to make time for me, then they clearly don’t think I’m important.  If that they way they want it, fine.  Then they’re not important to me either.  It’s self-preservation.

Now, I know there are faults with this approach.  For example, people can be going through stuff and I fail to notice it because I’m too busy being angry and resentful that they’re not reciprocating.  I also can’t expect people to treat friendship the same way I do.  Obviously there are many things that define friendship and many ways to make, keep, and lose friends.  People shouldn’t be expected to know or agree with my arbitrary set of rules. 

I’m working on trying to be more understanding.  And I need to communicate my expectations and my feelings so the other person is aware when there might be a problem.   I think that’s going to be my new rule.  From now on, I’ll work on not closing the door completely.  Maybe you’ll move down to acquaintance status, but I need to leave the door open for you to become a friend again.  But if it happens again, all bets are off.  Like I said, I’m not that forgiving.

A Day in the Life

I can’t remember the last time I was in this good a mood.  I woke up completely rested before my alarm went off, I put on my music, and I’ve been irrepressibly cheerful ever since.  Maybe its because today is the third sunny, warm day in a row?  Maybe its because its Friday?  Maybe its because my hair cooperated and I get to wear my new top?  Maybe its because I just had delicious Nando’s for lunch?  Maybe its because this weekend looks to be warm and sunny as well, and there are few places more awesome than London when the weather is nice?  I don’t know and I don’t really care.  I’m in a great mood and I’m staying that way.

There are side effects to this mood.  I basically want to get up and dance around the office, I keep breaking out into song.  And I’m being silly.  Well, that’s not entirely accurate.  I guess its better to say that I’m having a hard time controlling my impulses and keeping my interior monologue to myself.  So, all my random thoughts are spewing out of my mouth.  If people didn’t think I was crazy before, they’re thinking it now.  Some examples:

This morning I wondered how they make coffee decaffeinated.  Of course, Wikipedia has all the answers.  In case you’re as curious as I was, typically solvents are applied to unroasted (green) coffee beans until most of the caffeine has been removed whilst leaving the other essential chemicals in coffee intact.  

Then I contemplated the life and writings of the Marquis de Sade.  Naturally.

Today at lunch I asked my flatmate whether a woman with a nubbin (extra nipple) lactates through it or if its purely cosmetic.  I have since learned that supernumerary nipples are diagnosed at a rate of 1 in 18 males and 1 in 50 females.  They can occur anywhere on your body, even on your feet!  And yes, if sufficiently developed and located on a milk line, nubbins can be milk-bearing. In some cases they can have fat and glandular tissue and look like mini-breasts!

I then tried to create new emoticons.  What should this mean:  :-x ? Pirate emoticon?  How about this:  >_< ?  “Doh!”?  Or is it a pucker face?  This is too fun.

It’s only 14:10.  This does not bode well for the rest of the day.  

Update:  Yeah, we just played "6 degrees of Kevin Bacon" for over an hour. 

Staying Home

A few years ago something strange happened to me: I’d see a pregnant woman and I’d want to be her.  I’m not particularly maternal--I think I might actually be scared of babies.  And while I like little kids, I only want to be around them for about 20 minutes before it starts to get old.  So, this new feeling came as a shock.  

The more I thought about it, the more I realised that this was about my desire for my own family.  When I picture a family I picture not just a two adults and maybe some pets, but also children.  I think that, for me, no relationship will seem complete without the possibility of children.  

This still doesn’t help me resolve my lack of maternal feeling.  While the idea of being pregnant is strangely desirable, the idea of having a baby at the end of it, who I will have to look after for the rest of my life, is not particularly appealing.  Maybe I just like the idea of eating for two?  Jokes aside, I find the idea of raising kids daunting.  I cannot be a single mother.  There is no turkey baster or foreign adoption in my future.  I don’t want to raise a child alone.  I’m not into babies for babies sake.

So, I’m waiting for a man who makes me want to have babies.  For me to want to get fat, fart uncontrollably, need to pee all the time, and push something the size of a football through my uterus he’ll need to be one charming mother fucker.  Plus, there needs to be a balancing influence.  I’m lazy.  I can be impatient.  I’m overly demanding.  Left to my own devices I’d mess that kid up.  

Last week two of my friends had babies.  Both of them were working before and at this point both are planning to go back to work after their maternity leave ends.  This is probably very un-feminist of me, but I want to be a stay-at-home mom.  

I did some research a while back on women in the workplace, and I found a piece that said that people consider stay-at-home moms to be “simple”.  Basically they’re perceived as stupid, barefoot-in-the-kitchen types.  But my mom was a stay-at-home mom.  It was not by choice--both my brother and I were born on overseas assignments in countries where my mom did not have a work permit.  But even after we returned to the States my mom continued to stay home with us.  Not that she was really home.  She developed interests in art and cooking and took courses; she volunteered at the local museum and played a lot of tennis.  She also got very involved in our educations and headed the PTO one year.  She was busy, her brain was engaged, she was definitely not “simple.”  And she was also there for us to help us with our homework, to pick us up from school, shuttle us to our extracurriculars, have family dinner, and talk with us about what was happening in our lives.  

I can’t imagine a better upbringing, and I cannot imagine not providing the same level of care to my own children.  And I know that as they get older and are in school longer I can do more things, like get a part-time job or work from home.  Being productive and having some finanical independence is still important to me.  But I’m not going to be a climb the latter at all costs career woman.  At least not by choice.  I need to meet a charming man.