raybear: (Default)
There's a handful of people at work who I genuinely like and have fun conversations with, and today I said to one of them (because I'm wearing at work the same thing I've been wearing all day -- seersucker long shorts, t-shirt, sneakers, which is probably going to be almost the same thing I wear tomorrow, too): "in case you are wondering, these aren't shorts [which are prohibited by office dress code], these are capri pants." and she said, "ma-pri pants?" and I said, "how about man diggers?"

Speaking of terms for the various forms of shorts and short pants, as a child, my mom would often supplement my wardrobe with handsewn clothes, partly as her hobby, partly as a money saver, and she always would try and push me to wear the culottes she sewed for me, and I just couldn't do it, even with my propensity for people-pleasing, sucking-it-up skills, I had some limits. And it was those culottes. I have some regrets in life. My refusals are not part of them.
raybear: (sunglasses)
This morning I got bodywork done by KS and it was as excellent as I hoped for, maybe moreso. She did thai massage on me, which I've never done before, and it reminds me of Alexander Technique that was done in an acting class years and years ago, except way better because she's a trained professional who knows what she's doing and I didn't have to reciprocate, only keep my body slack while she does all the moving around. Which is kind of harder than it sounds. I was much more comfortable with having someone manipulate and treat my body than I've been in the past, though it still can be a bit nerve-wracking. She did a lot of work on my right leg, the quad muscle and the IT band and other surrounding things, which were either a cause or an effect of overextending my knee last Friday at the gym. It was swollen for a couple days, no major pain, but lots of soreness and feelings of misalignment. I've been resting and doing light work out this week, but its been slow recovery (well, slow for my impatient self). Now I'm still sore, but more like post-massage soreness of recovery, verses the soreness of something being wrong, if that makes sense. But the session also was like having a personal trainer because she talked all about the muscles and training and overcompensating and all sorts of small detail boring things that I love and are useful. Like realizing how much I push down and off with the outer sides of my feet, rather than pushing through the arches, and how this tiny thing of shifting your weight can alleviate all the problems that doing it wrong has been slowlg causing. So I feel better, feel way more in tune with my body in general through this and about injury, strains, etc. in general, but I am a bit weary of the ache now. Everday I realize I'm fantasizing about the 75 pound bag of epsom salt that exists at Costco.

Last weekend I acquired my summer shoes. Here they are:



I love them, but they also take some adjustment. I come from a family history of sensible, practical shoes. Sneakers with sky blue on them, even as just an accent color, even bought on sale at the outlet store, do not generally fit this category. Even today, when getting dressed for work, I started to panic a little about what I can wear them with, what goes together. I contemplated just wearing my black boots as usual. I stuck to the plan. I'm trying to challenge myself. New shoes is a fairly pleasurable way of doing it.

I'm also wearing "skinny jeans". This is partly [livejournal.com profile] mintwaster's fault, as she mentioned finding a pair that works, and then when I was going through the clearance section rampage on target.com, they had a pair for cheap, the only size was MY size, and the guy in the picture made them look pretty good. They arrived a couple days ago, but I'm only just wearing them out in the world today for the first time. Luckily I processed through it all via texting with [livejournal.com profile] unscrambled. The first hour I was not pleased, I felt both constricted in my movement through the legs but also that my ass might be hanging out in the back, or at the very least my underwear. (Yes, I'm wearing a belt.) But after an hour, they stretched out a bit and felt much better. An hour after that, I took a pair of scissors and gave my skinny jeans a bootcut leg opening, solving the other problem vexing me, which is how the hem was breaking on my shoe. I'm not exactly sure why I obsess about this for myself, seeing as I hardly notice it on others. But, I'm happy with the results finally.

I have a changing body in the middle of changing seasons and I'm possibly also changing personal fashion tastes (either as a result of the other two, or independently). I need to just accept that its might take me some extra time to leave the house for a little while.

Also, can anyone recommend socks that are interesting and stylish but have strongly reinforced toes? I have the squarest, sharpest toes in the world (no matter how frequently I trim the nails or not) and I poke through socks at a rate that I can never keep up in the darning - it frequently happens in the first 3-4 times of wearing them, then I just keep wearing them until the hole gets so big its uncomfortable. I have tried socks from H&M, Gap, Dockers, Gold Toe reinforced something argyle socks that I poked through in the first 5 hours of wearing. H&M has perhaps lasted the longest, surprisingly. Am I doomed to a life of athletic socks?
raybear: (red)
My general rule for myself (and many others), is that wearing button-down shirts requires an undershirt. There are, of course, exceptions, usually having to do with seasonal and geographical locations (e.g. a short sleeve casual shirt in the summer), but like I said, it's a rule. The new personal exception is the plaid cowboy snap shirt. It happened on accident one Saturday morning, when I just put it on to run out to the store or walk the dog, or some event that didn't require me caring, and then I saw myself in the mirror with the open collar and the chest hair revealed and decided this is a look I enjoy. And the physiological symbol of certain male bodies corresponds well in a way that doesn't so much sync with my image of a nice dress shirt in an office environment.

My shirt could use some ironing though.

On Friday I had brunch with [livejournal.com profile] drinkasyoupour and because she is a therapist as well as my good friend, I of course shared some of my recent therapist thoughts and revelations and ponderings. After we ate and decided to go to Andersonville to poke around a little, I knew in my gut we would see him on the street or in a store. Sure enough, as we were waiting to cross Balmoral, he drove by us. I shrieked a little and told her about it, and my premonition, then she had to go and say, "damn, I wish I had seen him when he drove past." Because he of course ended up parking half a block away and was feeding the meter and appeared to be walking toward us and I totally panicked and made us duck into the bakery. Except we were mistaken, he never came our way. We left and went to buy shoes. I joked about my panicking. Then on the way to the bookstore, we passed him on the sidewalk. Of course. I didn't force us to avert ourselves this time, we passed and made eye contact and did the half-nod/smile thing. Its all ridiculously silly, both at the time and now, recounting it, but also valid because it is uncommon to have an intensely intimate relationship that happens in a controlled bubble and barely includes a handshake. DAYP helpfully pointed out, that being on the other end of the therapist seeing the client in public isn't always necessarily easy either.

That night I went to the reading at the Chopin Theatre alone and struck up a random conversation with a quirky stranger. It put me in a good mood, to interact with someone who foregoes all the boring trappings of small talk and instead starts conversations with things like: "Do you wear your glasses all the time?" Um, except for when I sleep. "Do you own contacts?" Yes, but I don't wear them all the time. "Oh, because there's this weekly dodgeball game in wicker park that's really fun and you should do....but sometimes glasses get broken, so you don't wear them." After the reading I met up with DYA and some friends and acquaintances at a gallery and then a drink and had a good time discussing movie adaptations of novels, Sharon Stone, quitting things, rock band rivalries that involve guerilla vandalism, and earl grey cigarettes.

Yesterday was a run in the rain, writing group, then meeting up with my former mentor for wine downtown. I took her to Bin 36 which was sort of like eating inside a Crate & Barrel and the cheese was extremely overpriced given the portion size, but the wine was only moderately overpriced and worth it because you could get all these flights. I would definitely return. And I am in love with their Pomelo Suvignon Blanc. I am happy to have found sufficient options for white wines this summer. The conversation included losing large chunks of time to depression, stage zero cervical cancer, brain tumors that are really "mexican worms", screenplays, making a living writing, bad book reviews, choosing which novel to write, and the familial impact of your mother dating a sex offender. She didn't disapprove of me shelving my novel and I even broke my vow and talked about the details of my new novel and she was intrigued. (Oh yeah, have I mentioned I'm starting a new novel?) She was thrilled by the writing retreat we're doing in Ojai. And she gave me a specific editor of a well-known literary journal to whom I should submit a story, with permission to also use her name in the letter. Sight-unseen of what this story is, just on faith of having read my other work. Oh yeah, this was part of the purpose of going to grad school. The connections. Also, to find mentors who challenge but also have faith in you. Also, to meet writers who are making it work and we can just drink and talk about existing in the world together. It was good to be reminded of it all.

By the time I came home last night, I was perfectly sated in regards to all my social time and extroversion. Besides, I've been itching to finally do some writing. See, on Thursday night, on the train ride home, I managed to conceive an entire new novel -- main character, secondary characters, plot, ending and all. I'm not entirely sure about POV and structure yet, but that can come. I'm mostly just happy to not be loathing the thought of tackling it, the way I have been so extremely disinclined for the past year. Today was going to involve some wandering, some sitting, some writing. But now it's raining and I'm less interested in just hitting the street and finding a place to land, especially since I left my umbrella at a friend's house. But who knows, I might do it anyway. My shirt and chest hair deserve it.

May 2010

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