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17 July 2008 : Recent incidences of aging.
I know it's been brought to everyone's attention quite frequently in the past year or so that I am not so much in my twenties as in my geriatrics, so much so that during my brief sojourn in Lexington, KY, I received a loving thoughtful package in the mail from two (perilously close to former) friends, that contained a tube of Gold Bond medicated cream.
I am doing a lot of considering as the year anniversary of my ridiculously overwhelming life changing illness (which sometimes comes out far more dramatic than it really was, excepting the fact that I happened to have just embarked on pretty much the only career path that could be immediately put to death by my diagnosis) looms ever nearer. This anniversary means a lot of things, like I can get another tattoo and I can take the Med-Alert tag off my keychain (it's been lolling around in my purse so long at this point that the words have faded, and the permanent marker I inked over them has also faded, so should an emergency occur I hope there'll be someone in the know on hand to inform the paramedics what my now-generic keychain is supposed to be warning them about).
Those things in themselves indicate an increasing trend toward youthfulness. However, since the illness occurred last August I have worked a couple of different jobs, all of which required me to be on my feet and running around like crazy for eight hours a day. Good for circulation, good for the reduction of swelling. Now I'm working in a cubicle, the health benefits of being on my feet all day are no longer available. I have traded in my stinky, sweaty foodservice odor and tired aching feet for a swollen ankle, and the swollen ankle is the problem that could prove to be life threatening.
In the spirit of such, while at the pharmacy the other day picking up the scheduled refill on my anti-coagulants, I tossed a pair of compression hose into my basket.
Tomorrow I'm going to go to my doctor and beg to not have to wear them, though the last two days of sitting on my ass have yielded not so much as a bulge in my once-again svelte right ankle.
Combine that with the fact that the gentleman who promised to call tonight for dinner and various other activities around 8pm called at 11:30 to apologize and see if I was still up for other activities, and my response was "Sorry, bud, I'm going to bed," I'd say that my superficial signs of aging have officially turned inward.
Eight hours of sleep has officially trumped staying up late to make out.
Holy crap.
posted by lindsay at 23:35 :: 0 comments
11 July 2008 : Fruition.
Getting lost in the most basic way can be simple enough, but the kind of getting lost I've been involved in recently is both an art and a science. It's a good thing I have so much education.
There is a lot going on, and my time is hurtling past so quickly I tend to miss it, but I find myself dumbfounded at the other end of every day, wondering how I managed to get nothing accomplished.
Again. There is nothing going on.
It's closing in on a year, and I repeatedly find myself wondering what happened to my bright future. Ideas are bandied about: medical school, which means Doctors Without Borders, or the International Relations program at the University of Indianapolis, to which I will absolutely apply once I win the lottery. The Peace Corps will not take me and my genetic abnormality.
Still, they're only ideas. I go to work in a kitchen, carry grease to and fro, get lost in the art of perfecting the reuben, my ankle swells and I panic. Or I go to work in an office, get lost in the art of perfecting the no-mouse data entry sequence, my ankle swells and I panic.
But I'm tired of panic, I'm tired of moaning and lamenting. I'm tired of dreaming up far fetched schemes to get me somewhere beyond this hand to mouth existence that I am pretty sure I won't survive much longer.
On Tuesday night, Amanda and I went out for a beer and food tasting at the pub where I am no longer employed (angels, swelling music, plucking harps), and we met a nice couple who were new in town(and half of whose names escape me). After hearing some of our conversation, they turned to me and said, "So corporate life not what you were hoping for, huh?"
As it turns out, I wasn't hoping for much more out of corporate life than a moderately fatter paycheck so, hey, mission accomplished. But I explained to them that it just wasn't where I had planned to be at this point in my life (matter of fact: I had actually planned to, at this very specific moment-to-moment point of my life, be in Zambia studying livelihood strategies among internal refugees).
The next question was: "So, do you have a dream job, then?"
There was no hesitation. I was a few beers up, a few inhibitions down. My hand hit the table, making the cheese platter rock slightly. "I want to be an anthropologist."
Say true, sister, say true.
I'll stay on the path, until the very moment that I hear that it is actually, physically IMPOSSIBLE for me to continue. I bet there's an area of the world where I can study immigrant livelihood strategies adjacent to a hospital modern enough to perform a simple prothrombin time. And hell, should all go to plan, by the time international travel becomes necessary I will be below the recommended weight level for women with my particular issue, and will have eliminated all risk factors other than genetics.
I have options. If the rumors about the IUPUI graduate program prove to be unfounded (I sent the email to my undergrad advisor today: is it true?! CAN IT BE SO?!) there are options. Commuting to Purdue would be, in two words, a bitch - but I could do it. Or maybe in a year's time, or two years' time, I won't be such a pussy and I'll be capable of relocating without dying (literally, too).
In the last five years, every time I've been really content it's been because I was on this path. So I lace my shoes back up and step into it again.
Move forward, move forward.
posted by lindsay at 20:20 :: 1 comments
07 July 2008 : Corporate Edition
I am officially 8 hours and 45 minutes (first day overtime!) into my new appallingly corporate career. Remember when I started working for Starbucks and I was all, today I embark on a journey to a new frontier, a place I swore I'd never go?
Well, today I one-upped myself and headed downtown to my (own personal prepaid!) parking space off the circle, where I walked six blocks in my flip flops to the largest building in Indianapolis, put my heels on outside the revolving doors, and headed upstairs with my electromagnetic ID badge to begin working for one of the biggest financial conglomerates in the whole entire world.
I will say that it was vastly entertaining. And I will say that wealth, wealth management, and asset acquirement and retainment are fascinating things. I hope to climb a bit of corporate ladder, find myself in a financially secure position, and use my new knowledge to, you know, embark on a journey to a new frontier. Only this time, I'll be armed with a resume that has more than food service listed on it.
I have also learned that:
time-wasting is an art
unlimited (but not required) overtime is like a healing balm to one who owes upwards of 50K to Sallie Mae
people can be incredibly cruel when it comes to naming their children
sitting on your ass all day is pretty tiring AND
there is a town in Texas called Flower Mound.
I'd say things went swimmingly.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go pack my lunch for tomorrow.
posted by lindsay at 20:20 :: 3 comments
I know it's been brought to everyone's attention quite frequently in the past year or so that I am not so much in my twenties as in my geriatrics, so much so that during my brief sojourn in Lexington, KY, I received a loving thoughtful package in the mail from two (perilously close to former) friends, that contained a tube of Gold Bond medicated cream.
I am doing a lot of considering as the year anniversary of my ridiculously overwhelming life changing illness (which sometimes comes out far more dramatic than it really was, excepting the fact that I happened to have just embarked on pretty much the only career path that could be immediately put to death by my diagnosis) looms ever nearer. This anniversary means a lot of things, like I can get another tattoo and I can take the Med-Alert tag off my keychain (it's been lolling around in my purse so long at this point that the words have faded, and the permanent marker I inked over them has also faded, so should an emergency occur I hope there'll be someone in the know on hand to inform the paramedics what my now-generic keychain is supposed to be warning them about).
Those things in themselves indicate an increasing trend toward youthfulness. However, since the illness occurred last August I have worked a couple of different jobs, all of which required me to be on my feet and running around like crazy for eight hours a day. Good for circulation, good for the reduction of swelling. Now I'm working in a cubicle, the health benefits of being on my feet all day are no longer available. I have traded in my stinky, sweaty foodservice odor and tired aching feet for a swollen ankle, and the swollen ankle is the problem that could prove to be life threatening.
In the spirit of such, while at the pharmacy the other day picking up the scheduled refill on my anti-coagulants, I tossed a pair of compression hose into my basket.
Tomorrow I'm going to go to my doctor and beg to not have to wear them, though the last two days of sitting on my ass have yielded not so much as a bulge in my once-again svelte right ankle.
Combine that with the fact that the gentleman who promised to call tonight for dinner and various other activities around 8pm called at 11:30 to apologize and see if I was still up for other activities, and my response was "Sorry, bud, I'm going to bed," I'd say that my superficial signs of aging have officially turned inward.
Eight hours of sleep has officially trumped staying up late to make out.
Holy crap.
Labels: it's a sickness, Old grandma
posted by lindsay at 23:35 :: 0 comments
11 July 2008 : Fruition.
Getting lost in the most basic way can be simple enough, but the kind of getting lost I've been involved in recently is both an art and a science. It's a good thing I have so much education.
There is a lot going on, and my time is hurtling past so quickly I tend to miss it, but I find myself dumbfounded at the other end of every day, wondering how I managed to get nothing accomplished.
Again. There is nothing going on.
It's closing in on a year, and I repeatedly find myself wondering what happened to my bright future. Ideas are bandied about: medical school, which means Doctors Without Borders, or the International Relations program at the University of Indianapolis, to which I will absolutely apply once I win the lottery. The Peace Corps will not take me and my genetic abnormality.
Still, they're only ideas. I go to work in a kitchen, carry grease to and fro, get lost in the art of perfecting the reuben, my ankle swells and I panic. Or I go to work in an office, get lost in the art of perfecting the no-mouse data entry sequence, my ankle swells and I panic.
But I'm tired of panic, I'm tired of moaning and lamenting. I'm tired of dreaming up far fetched schemes to get me somewhere beyond this hand to mouth existence that I am pretty sure I won't survive much longer.
On Tuesday night, Amanda and I went out for a beer and food tasting at the pub where I am no longer employed (angels, swelling music, plucking harps), and we met a nice couple who were new in town(and half of whose names escape me). After hearing some of our conversation, they turned to me and said, "So corporate life not what you were hoping for, huh?"
As it turns out, I wasn't hoping for much more out of corporate life than a moderately fatter paycheck so, hey, mission accomplished. But I explained to them that it just wasn't where I had planned to be at this point in my life (matter of fact: I had actually planned to, at this very specific moment-to-moment point of my life, be in Zambia studying livelihood strategies among internal refugees).
The next question was: "So, do you have a dream job, then?"
There was no hesitation. I was a few beers up, a few inhibitions down. My hand hit the table, making the cheese platter rock slightly. "I want to be an anthropologist."
Say true, sister, say true.
I'll stay on the path, until the very moment that I hear that it is actually, physically IMPOSSIBLE for me to continue. I bet there's an area of the world where I can study immigrant livelihood strategies adjacent to a hospital modern enough to perform a simple prothrombin time. And hell, should all go to plan, by the time international travel becomes necessary I will be below the recommended weight level for women with my particular issue, and will have eliminated all risk factors other than genetics.
I have options. If the rumors about the IUPUI graduate program prove to be unfounded (I sent the email to my undergrad advisor today: is it true?! CAN IT BE SO?!) there are options. Commuting to Purdue would be, in two words, a bitch - but I could do it. Or maybe in a year's time, or two years' time, I won't be such a pussy and I'll be capable of relocating without dying (literally, too).
In the last five years, every time I've been really content it's been because I was on this path. So I lace my shoes back up and step into it again.
Move forward, move forward.
Labels: When I grow up
posted by lindsay at 20:20 :: 1 comments
07 July 2008 : Corporate Edition
I am officially 8 hours and 45 minutes (first day overtime!) into my new appallingly corporate career. Remember when I started working for Starbucks and I was all, today I embark on a journey to a new frontier, a place I swore I'd never go?
Well, today I one-upped myself and headed downtown to my (own personal prepaid!) parking space off the circle, where I walked six blocks in my flip flops to the largest building in Indianapolis, put my heels on outside the revolving doors, and headed upstairs with my electromagnetic ID badge to begin working for one of the biggest financial conglomerates in the whole entire world.
I will say that it was vastly entertaining. And I will say that wealth, wealth management, and asset acquirement and retainment are fascinating things. I hope to climb a bit of corporate ladder, find myself in a financially secure position, and use my new knowledge to, you know, embark on a journey to a new frontier. Only this time, I'll be armed with a resume that has more than food service listed on it.
I have also learned that:
time-wasting is an art
unlimited (but not required) overtime is like a healing balm to one who owes upwards of 50K to Sallie Mae
people can be incredibly cruel when it comes to naming their children
sitting on your ass all day is pretty tiring AND
there is a town in Texas called Flower Mound.
I'd say things went swimmingly.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go pack my lunch for tomorrow.
posted by lindsay at 20:20 :: 3 comments