I'm so easily distract.....oooo something shiny!

I am utterly unproductive today.

So far, while at work, I have been distracted by the following:

*Email
*Twitter
*Facebook
*Text message
*Email again
*Swagbucks
*Get Fit Sisters blog
*Free sample site
*Email again
*Twitter
*Clean Eating blog
*Email
*Twitter
*Twitter
*was that a text message?
*Email
*Blogger

Friday's do not allow me to concentrate on anything. I'm dying to get out of here and start my weekend of relaxing and forgetting about work. Only to have Monday roll around and start the vicious cycle over again.

I know, I know. I need to update my blog more. I'm trying people! I am out of the house at work from 6am-6pm. When I get home I work out, eat dinner and have about 2 hours to veg out and then off to bed. I feel like I have no time anymore!!

On the weekends its just pure laziness on my part.

Though this weekend is a bit busy. Tonight we're doing an open mic show at the South Bay LGBT Center. If you're in the L.A. area, come check us out. We're pretty good, just sayin.

Tomorrow I've got to get in a good workout and then my girl is treating me to a pedicure. She has been helping me by being my drill sergeant in regards to eating right and exercising. With her help I have done so good this week!! I get tonight off from working out and tomorrow I get my treat. She's going to treat me to something once a week.

Get your mind out of the gutter. Though I'll probably get some of that too. :)

Sunday I'm going to a free yoga class with the SoCal Gals meetup group. If you haven't checked out www.meetup.com then do it. When we first moved to L.A. I joined some groups on meetup.com and have met some amazing women through the events. It's a lot of fun and doesn't cost anything to join. There is seriously a group for just about anything.

Though Paula still thinks I'll never find a LGBT D&D group for her. I swear there has to be one!

I've been paper journaling more in the hopes that it will get my song writing flow going. The only thing I am journaling about though is food and my journey on this new strict regimen.

Ok back to work. I have a huge file I have to go through that is going to take me way more than today to finish. Time to start procrastinating and start doing.

ooo I have a new Tweet!

I am Jack's random stream of consciousness blog post

I'm having a weird day. I feel weird. I feel gross and all things unpleasant.

I felt amazing this weekend. On Saturday after my workout, I felt STRONG. I came home, showered, got dressed and felt beautiful as I gallivanted around town running errands. Yesterday I felt content. Relaxed. I felt sexy and strong.

Today...I don't feel any of those good feelings. I feel sad that I'm not in a loud, rock band and that I don't have that outlet to release anger and energy. I feel sad that even if I was in a band that I doubt I'd have the time or energy to rehearse and write.

I've been promising P that I'd write new material for months now. I start to write and then it just stops. I can write these blog posts, sure, but this isn't the same. I think I need to start journaling daily in a paper journal. Maybe it will help start the flow of creative juices.

Some days I want to be sing pop. Other days I wish I was in a metal or hardcore band. Most days I just miss Radio Drama. but only the last lineup. It was perfect.

I'm upset at my weight. I've been trying to lose this same amount of weight for over 2 years. It just won't budge. I fluctuate between these two sizes and can't seem to shake anymore. I lose 10-20lbs and then gain it all back. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Obviously whatever I think I know is bullshit and doesn't work.

I should be working right now. Instead I'm writing this.

I have a friend who is a trainer and works me out to the point of dropping once a week. The rest of the week I'm on my own. I walk to the bus in the morning, sit all the way to work, sit all day at work, sit on the bus all the way home, walk home from the bus stop and plop my ass down and sit some more. Maybe its the light.

Its so dark out when I get home. I think my brain thinks its bedtime. Its starting to get lighter. Maybe that will help. I love the dark......but miss the light. Does that make sense?

I want to give her everything but have nothing to give. I wish I could be more for her...and for me.

Little by little.

I need to find my motivation again. My creativity. My passion. I need my darkness.

I think I feel too old.

Aging is for suckers.

Truly Yours, Pretentious Douche

I really hate people who have email signatures. Now, I'm not talking about professional email signatures. On my professional email, I have a signature with my name, title, business address, phone number and logo. Those signatures serve a purpose.

I'm talking about people with email signatures on their personal email. The ones with quotes like "Be The Change You Want To See In The World" and "Carpe Diem" or "anyothercompletelyoverusedquote".

I especially hate when someone has an email signature when they REPLY to an email. If you write back and forth 10 times, then that is 10 times you have to see that God forsaken quote. If they have a stupid animated picture of a cat waving its paw at you then you might as well just shoot me in the face.

I once knew someone who had an email signature that was simply:

Cheers,

Pretentious Douche*

*names have been changed to protect the douchebags

Really? You had to have that as a set email signature? You couldn't take the 3 seconds it takes to type that and just manually type it out when you email someone? Was it that complex? Was your time just too valuable?

I just don't understand. I feel that these people must think they are so profound and so deep with their quotes. That they're the first person to think of using it this way. Or that maybe people will think they are so cool and that they'll be known for their ironic quote or witty catchphrase sign off.

Please. Get off your high horse. Or Gandhi.

I think these people should be forced to self medicate or go through extensive therapy. Obviously something is missing in their lives.

Maybe its love. Maybe its some deep seeded daddy issues.

Maybe they just need more cat food.

I'm a grownup?

I've never felt like a grownup. Since I've been one anyways.

When I was younger I always felt like a grownup. I always felt 17 going on 45. I was always more comfortable with people older than me. People my age always seemed so immature. I rarely dated anyone my age. Even as I got older, so did my choices in friends. In my late teens and early twenties, my closest friends were all well over 30. I was never a crazy party girl and I preferred more grown up get togethers. Now in my late twenties and getting ready to approach 30 myself, all of my friends are already well into their thirties and more. I just feel more comfortable there.

However, that has a downside. That I always feel like the child. Though I feel more mature than those my age, I feel very immature now and then with my older friends. There are times conversations will be had and I won't understand the topic because it was before my time or I won't get the reference. It may involve things I haven't experienced yet. So I get a laugh and a smile and someone saying "Oh you're so young". But I don't feel young.

I don't feel that my life will feel any different when I'm 30. I've always felt that age anyways. I think I was born in the wrong decade.

A close friend once told me I had an old soul. I like to think that has a beauty to it.

I always feel like I'm asking permission with my older coworkers or friends. Though sometimes I feel awkward when I have to give direction to those older than me. Trying to maintain that respect but be assertive. Does that even make sense?

When I was 18 I moved out in the middle of my senior year and got my own apartment. I felt too independent. When I was 20 I moved to New York where I knew no one. Now at 28 I feel I've found my home in Los Angeles and a career. It is so weird to feel like I have a career. I've never had that before. I've always had "jobs" and always excelled in the business side of things.

I never finished my college degree because I couldn't figure out what I wanted. My creative side wanted my art degree. My rational side wanted more money. My musical side wanted me to never go back to college and to focus on singing. My rational side wanted stability. It wanted health insurance. It wanted "stuff".

I've now realized that all of my jobs have ended up in managerial positions dealing with the business and marketing end of things. That is where I've excelled. That has helped me decide to go back to school and finish my degree in business. Its what I'm good at.

I haven't played in a band in 9 months. I think I'm too old.

My wisdom teeth were not wise enough

I'm 28 years old and had all 4 of my wisdom teeth removed 7 days ago. Why? Because I'm crazy and an idiot at the same time.

When I was 18 I was told by a dentist that my wisdom teeth were growing in horizontally instead of vertically and I needed to get them removed by a surgeon right away. Did I mention I was 18? That means I was invincible, knew more than any dentist and had important things to do. I just graduated high school and was setting off on a road trip to college. I had no time for things like this. Not to mention I didn't have insurance and I never told my parents. They would have marched my butt right into the surgeons chair otherwise. So, I ignored the warning.

A few years ago I started to get horrible pain whenever I ate on the right side of my mouth. Pain that should have forced me to start dropping pounds since there were so many foods I could now no longer eat. Some how I found a way to still shove that food in my mouth, thus no weight loss. I didn't have insurance so I couldn't afford to go to the dentist. I assumed it was a cavity, since I'd never had one, and just figured I'd take care of it eventually.

Two years ago my girlfriend was tired of hearing me complain day after day, and seeing me in constant agony, so she took me to a dentist for an emergency appointment. The good news was, no cavity. The bad news, my wisdom teeth did grow in crooked and one of them, on the painful side, was growing in horizontally and tearing at the roots of my molars. Ouchies.

He also said I needed to see a surgeon right away. Still no insurance so I left with an xray of my screwed up teeth and went back to normal.

I recently got a real job with grown up things like insurance. First thing I did the day my insurance cards came in the mail was go to the dentist. It had gotten worse, since it's been 10 years, and now they would have to remove small pieces of my jawbone as well. Good news is I still don't have any cavities. Do I get an award or something? A month later, I had the surgery. That was 7 days ago.

After the surgery I was hopped up on pain medication so I was wheeled out to the car in a wheelchair, since my legs wouldn't work, and plopped down in the seat next to my loving girlfriend. She informs me that for the next hour, I told her I couldn't feel my tongue (I was touching my chin while I told her this important information) and I made her touch it to ensure it was still in my mouth. I also refused to put my hand down. I got in the car and raised my hand in the air. She put my hands in my lap but I raised it again and told her, "It's more comfortable like this." I also said the phrase "Oh man" about 1,000 times. At some point in the car ride I started crying because I swore there was something in my mouth that was trying to go down my throat and cut off my breathing. The whole time she held my hand and put up with my craziness. She's a keeper that one.

Throughout the next few days, my face swelled up like a squirrel with cheeks full of acorns. My girl's favorite question to me over these days was, "What are you hiding in those cheeks?" Everyday she told me how cute and beautiful I was, even though I know I looked like I was morbidly obese and this was the future of my face if I didn't stop eating so much crap. I recommend this surgery for kick starting any weight loss plan.

I now look like I got punched in the face because of a giant bruise on the side of my jaw. But the swelling is going down. Now I just look fat. I've caught up on a lot of reading, TV and video games. Very important stuff I had been putting off. Not to mention the fact that my girlfriend showed how devoted she is to me in sickness and in health. Did I mention she's a keeper? Putting a ring on that finger as soon as some heterosexual judge gives me the go ahead.

All in all, I'm glad I did the grown up thing. It probably would have been better to do it at 18 but too late now. I've been out of work for the last week and am praying I still have a desk when I go back. I've learned Vicodin makes me terribly sleepy and that I really like jello. Like, whoa. And I learned that doctors are smarter than 18 year olds.

Who knew?

A New Year...and new shit.

Today is the first day of 2011 and I planned on spending it on my couch, watching TV and vegging out. I had all of my wisdom teeth removed 3 days ago and have been recuperating with books and TV. Not a bad way to end the year.

Here I am, sitting on my couch talking on the phone with my mother and getting ready to start writing a blog about the new year, when all of a sudden I hear what sounds like rushing water. It sounded like someone was dumping buckets of water out the window upstairs. I get up and walk into the bathroom to look out the window and I see my toilet overflowing water all over my floor. It takes me a second to realize this is happening because this makes no sense to me since I've done absolutely nothing to necessitate a clogged toilet. NOTHING.

I run down to my building managers apartment to tell her and ask her to call a plumber asap. I go back to my apartment and the water is still gushing everywhere. Not only is it water, but its shit water. There is shit water and chunks of black hair (I am a redhead and my girlfriend is a blond) all over my floor and coming out of my toilet. I want to vomit.

My building manager goes to the upstairs apartment and the neighbors apartment to see if they are also having an issue and none of them are. This supposedly means it originated from my apartment which I tell him is completely impossible. IMPOSSIBLE. There is no possible way that this happened here. I'd be happy to admit it if it was.

Now the water is still gushing out because my building manager can't get it to stop. It has now spread to the carpet in our bedroom. Equally awesome.

I have to wait until a plumber can get here to fix this which could take up to two hours. I'm so furious and disgusted that this is how I get to spend my first day of the new year.

They say that whatever you do on the first day of the year is the theme for what you'll be doing all year long. My plan was to relax and start writing and have the tone for 2011 be stress free and creative.

Guess 2011 is going to be full of shit.

Hello blog, my old friend.

Well its been quite a few months since I've ranted on anything. I was doing good there for awhile. Then I decided to pack all of my belongings and my loved one into my car and move across the country. No really, I did that.

Now I'm writing from sunny Southern California. I have been quite distracted since I discovered podcasting and have been doing one weekly. Its hilarious, I won't lie.

Anywho, on to the good stuff. I have something to talk about and it involves icky girly things. If you are a boy and want to stop reading now, I totally will understand.

I recently read an article in Curve magazine about periods and I also discovered quite a few books on the subject. This has fascinated me enough to the point of wanting to write about it.

Lets start at the beginning...the way beginning. I was 10 years old and thought I was dying. I already had boobs and was the only girl in 4th grade wearing a bra. It was not a cool thing to have then and I hated my boobs. All the boys would snap my bra strap and I was horribly embarrassed. I would wear baggy shirts to try to hide the fact that I was wearing a white cotton bra underneath but nothing worked. Then to top my puberty sundae, I got my period one weekend afternoon at home. I came out of the bathroom screaming to my mother that I thought I was dying. My mother responded to my ever so common dramatics by telling me there were things in the bathroom to use under the cabinet. That was my lesson.

I sat on the floor of my bathroom attempting to discern the pictorial diagrams that accompany a box of Always maxi-pads and figure out how to attach them to my underwear. Then I experienced the joy of feeling like I was wearing a diaper. So begins the lovely journey of being a woman.

Now I realize this may paint my mother as an un-motherly brat but I can assure you she was not. She actually had went over the menstrual cycle with me about a year prior via my encyclopedia set. Not what I anticipated using it for when my parents bought it for me. That was a great birds and bees lesson full of lovely pictures of genitalia which scarred me for life. Maybe that should have been my first clue that I was a lesbian.

So now I was not just the only girl in my class to wear a bra but I'm pretty sure I was the only one on my period. To this day, I have yet to meet anyone who started as early as I did. I was pretty tomboyish around 4th-5th grade but my mother insisted I carry a little yellow purse to school. Again, the only girl who had a purse. To make it even more obvious, when I would ask to use the bathroom during class I would have to make sure I brought my purse with me. In 4th grade, that raises a lot of questions because why would you need to bring anything with you to the bathroom. It was a very traumatic time for me.

Now in my late twenties, I continue to get my monthly period like clockwork. Every 28 days, thar she blows. A monthly reminder that my eggs are being wasted because I don't want children. Every time the cramps start, the bloating begins and I start to cry at commercials I am punished for not wanting to use my eggs to procreate. I really wish this was optional.

I wish that I could decide not to have my period, just as I can decide I don't want to add a friend on Facebook. I wish each month I'd get an email saying "Your period would like to come and visit you. Accept or Ignore". Then I could happily click on Ignore and move on with my day. 1, 2, 3.

But I do not have that luxury. Sure I could go on birth control and then only get my period once or twice a year but I refuse to do that for a multitude of reasons. A) I do not need birth control as it is biologically impossible for my girlfriend to impregnate me. If by some miracle of life she did impregnate me, I'm pretty sure I'd be rich because I would be a world marvel. I would totally have a kid if it was a miracle of science like that. B) I do not want to put unnecessary chemicals into my body if I don't need to. If it was a matter of life or death and the only way to survive was to take birth control, then I'd do it. But to take it just so I can not have a period is a little ridiculous.

I'm sure when I go into menopause I will yearn for the days of a period and natural estrogen. But we won't know until that happens.

For now, I get to watch awesome commercials of birth control and feminine products during television programs that are in my demographic. I get to watch the women in these commercials frolic in fields of daisy's because they are on birth control. Or I get to see women dancing around in their underwear because they finally found the best tampon. Because some man who runs these companies thinks that is what will make women buy their products. Some dude in a suit, sitting in an office, says "I know if I was a woman, I would totally connect to this random ethnically diverse woman running and giggling and want to wear the same tampon she does." Do these guys really think that works? Do they think that their birth control or tampon will make me feel more connected to my womanhood? Let me in that board room. I'll make a commercial of some woman whining in agony because of cramps and balling at touching commercials for Rice Krispies. I will show a woman bitching about the price of these necessary products and that she has to go through this every month. Have you seen the price of pads or tampons? These dudes make a fortune off of us. Half of the worlds population HAS to buy these products. I can only imagine their vast menstrual cycle fortunes.

For now, I just have to suck it up and deal with it, as do we all. But I can say that the advertising and product world would be quite a different place if it was men who had their periods. I bet they would have found a cure for this by now. However, the worlds population would probably die out. Silly boys.