I worked for a grand total of one hour today before realizing there was no way I'd last seven more. Walking around Downtown Disney last night was doable, but that was in sneakers with plenty of cushion and arch support. Not so in work shoes today, even with the Dr. Scholl's inserts I bought yesterday. I can walk on it, but it feels terrible. So when I saw how well-staffed we were, I asked to go home. Of course, I feel stupidly paranoid and guilty about this. It's the Headache all over again, my asking for special treatment for a problem I can feel but no one else can see. So I assume they think I'm making it up just to be difficult. Why do I care so much about what other people think of my efforts to take care of myself?

Anyway, I've spent the last two hours Googling "stress fracture" and thoroughly freaking myself out. If that's what's causing my pain, I really should be staying off my foot as much as possible, because continuing to put weight on a fractured bone can cause it to get worse or actually break. Healing time supposedly involves at least four-to-six weeks of rest to allow the bone to repair itself. How am I supposed to do that while standing 40 hours a week?

Ugh. I foresee difficulty in my future if this is the case.

As for last night, I really enjoyed Star Trek: Into Darkness. There were some shady little plotholes, and some of the story felt contrived--more than I'd care to admit. But there were enough grin-worthy homages thrown in to keep me pretty happy, the soundtrack was gorgeous, and I was in good company, which always helps me better enjoy movies for some reason.

Hanging out with the guys so much makes me realize how much I miss having a close girlfriend in my daily life... apart from living with other girls, I mean, which isn't quite the same thing. It also makes me realize how much I fail at being a girl friend. I mean, shouldn't I be able to give these guys advice about girls?

Basically, I kind of just wish I was good at giving advice at all.

I may be going through another stupid insecurity spell. DO NOT WANT.

Submitted another article for Celebrate, Regenerate, and I'm debating writing up another one today. My first one made it in the book, though! My name's officially on the list. I'm stupidly proud of this, even if it IS only going to be a free pdf download.

♥

Well, I (mostly) survived my first week back to work. It certainly helped that I had two training days thrown in the mix to shake things up, otherwise I think I'd already have burned out again. I woke up every day dreading going in, but every day, something nice happened to make me feel good about things. I had some nice conversations with my leaders, got some wonderful compliments from my trainees, and also won the Five Keys Fanatic drawing for the month! They surprised me with balloons and 75 Disney Dollars at work on Thursday. Haven't decided how to spend it yet. Sunday was a long and blah shift after such a nice work week, which now has me questioning again how much longer I want to stick around, but of course I'm too wishy-washy to make any kind of decision about that right now.

I say I MOSTLY survived because I've been having epic pains in my left foot since an hour into my first shift on Wednesday. I didn't think much of it and figured it was just the sudden jump having two weeks off in comfy shoes to being on my feet in uncomfortable dress shoes for eight hours again. But the pain got worse, then shifted location, and at times even now is nauseatingly difficult to walk on. I went to a local doctor today, who took x-rays and believes I may have a stress fracture (which sounds terrifying). He sent my x-rays off to a radiologist and said they'll call as soon as they find out one way or the other, and in the meantime told me to take Tylenol and wear comfortable shoes, which is... not terribly helpful. He suggested seeing a podiatrist if the pain persists for another week. I'll have to see one anyway if it turns out to be a fracture, but I'm not sure if he can write the referral, since he's not my Personal Care Provider. (Ah, insurance and red tape.)

In the meantime, I'm debating whether or not to run out on a wild goose chase for new shoes and/or inserts to help with the comfort. Tylenol might also come in handy, since all I have here is Advil, which I was told not to take as it (apparently) impedes bone repair. But it's rainy, I'm lazy, and my foot really hurts after all that poking and prodding, so staying in for next few hours sounds lovely.

Last Tuesday was fun, but brutal! Alex and I went out to Wizarding World for Butterbeer, then wandered all over the Universal resorts (because I'd never seen them). It was hot, and after all that walking, my head was pounding, so we drove over to Riverside to nap on hammocks--but my head was too miserable to enjoy even that, so I was glad to call it a night and head home to air conditioning and pain killers. We're going to see Star Trek later, and I'm super-excited about that! Re-watched the first one last week to get myself hyped up.

Spent yesterday evening with an old co-worker for her birthday celebration. Despite some bad weather (that thankfully passed on very quickly), we hung out at her apartment complex's huge outdoor lounge area. I got to dip my feet in the hot tub for a while, which was SO nice. And it was just good to see some old friends, even if it meant hearing a lot about old work drama that I'm now removed from.

On Wednesday, I treated myself for surviving work and shelled out cash to Amazon Instant for all the episodes of Doctor Who I've missed, so I'm all caught up and got to watch the finale the day after it aired for everyone else! I wanted to like and enjoy it all, and they weren't terrible... They just don't make any sense, and until someone up there realizes Moffat needs a good editor to catch all his plotholes and mistakes, I'm afraid the series is just going to keep spiraling for me.

And that's about all I have to say!

♥

Okay, I'll be nice and use a cut. This time. ( Ten Days!Collapse )

And now I'm finally all caught up! I'm not sure about my plan for the rest of today. I may feel lazy enough to do nothing but watch a slew of movies and flit around online. I may feel guilty enough to tackle the rest of the To Do list and cross off as many more things as I can manage. Right now, I'm pretty content with how much I accomplished while on vacation, though I DO need to spend some time thinking about my living and job situation. I'm definitely cutting down the nails today, not just because I flippin' broke one yesterday, but also because I think it will make tomorrow less depressing when I re-Disney-fy myself. ;)

Tomorrow, I'm meeting up with at least Alex (maybe Robert after work) for Butterbeer and potentially sushi... and then just adventure in general. A last hurrah before I go back to work on Wednesday, which I can't help dreading a little, if only because I'll be at the mercy of my alarm clock again.

♥

Holy vacation, Batman! How have I not written about any of this yet?! Beware lots of lists, links, and pictures!

Saturday night: I kick-started the vacation almost as soon as I got off work! The guys and I worked out last-minute plans to get dinner and go watch another movie on the beach because Alex had never seen Wreck-It-Ralph. He surprised me at work, and we carpooled back here to change then headed out to grab some food and meet Robert before heading over to Fort Wilderness. We sat on the lakefront talking for a while until it was time for the movie, which was chill and deep at the same time. Unfortunately, the campfire site was PACKED, so we ended up heading back to Robert's to watch the movie, and it was so late by then that we called it a night, and Alex drove me back to my car. It was basically the perfect, most chill way to kick-start a two-week vacation EVER.

I still feel a little weird being the older chick hanging out with two younger guys. There's a stigma to that, I guess, and I've always been stupid amounts of paranoid regarding what I assume others think. But I can't help feeling like people see us and wonder, "What's SHE doing hanging out with them." Which is ridiculous, of course, and I want to give myself a solid kick whenever I catch myself stressing about it. But there it is.

As an aside (because we watched it after Wreck-It-Ralph), Paperman makes me feel like a giant, sobbing sap who wants to shatter glass objects against a wall. Seriously, guys, if you have not seen it, WATCH IT, and feel feels. SO. MANY. FEELS. But I'll save that for another entry.

Anyway, I stayed up so-late-it-was-actually-early Saturday night listening to the Wreck-It-Ralph soundtrack and designing my own Sugar Rush character (for no other reason than I was upset to find out the Swizzle Malarkey character was a male, because I LOVE THAT NAME) and writing a bit.

Sunday: I slept in LIKE A PRO and spent ALL morning and part of the afternoon being a slug in front of the computer, which felt simultaneously awesome and horrible. I probably NEEDED those hours of nothingness, but I didn't want to while away 14 days like that, so I started browsing Pinterest to put together a folder/list of Things to Do and decided I would do at least one productive/creative thing every day of vacation.

I painted my nails (twice, because I wanted to change the first manicure the second I finished it), made a few ear cuffs, did a better drawing of my Sugar Rush character, and watched Mirror, Mirror on Netflix, just for the heck of it and because I'd always meant to. Wasn't super-impressed, but it was visually kind of pretty.











Monday: I know I did SOMETHING productive, but I can't for the life of me remember what. OH YEAH! I finally watched The Hunger Games, now that it's on Netflix! I don't think I'll buy it. Like the book, I don't know if it's something I could handle seeing on any kind of regular basis, but it did make me very excited for Catching Fire! I discovered the Power Rangers movie on netflix that night and dropped EVERYTHING to watch it, too. I'm both a little ashamed and a little amazed that I remember so many LINES from that movie. Also, why did I never find it questionable that these six "teenagers" ran around putting themselves in constant danger without ever having to let their parents know where they were? Seriously.

Tuesday: I ran my roommate to Wal-Mart to buy a car battery when hers died, then had a girly night out with some of the pirates, which ended up being just dinner because everyone needed to go early. I watched Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog for the first time and... am not really a fan? Blasphemy, I know, but there you have it. I also started packing for the trip home and finally got a decent start on a drawing Alex asked me to do for his mom's birthday. (It took me several tries, because Alex doesn't like my usual, more "anime" style.) I stayed up way too late working on that, hoping to finish it before I drove home the next day.

Wednesday: Despite my plans to finish Alex's drawing, I was SO ready to be home. Also, one of my good inking markers dried up, so I figured I might as well head home and pick up some new markers on that side of town. I packed everything up and headed home, had lunch, then ran out for markers and a few other supplies I'd need for some of my vacation projects. I ended up spending all of Wednesday night working on Alex's drawing, though. (I wanted it out of the way so I wouldn't stress about it.)

Thursday: Finished the piece! I'm relatively happy with how it turned out, and Alex and his mom LOVED it, so that makes me feel ever better about it. Yay! I didn't finish until early evening, but I was so psyched to get kicking on some more projects that I cracked out Mom's sewing machine and started altering an old TeeFury shirt that never fit right. One of my goals for vacation was to sew something, and I figured altering shirts I've never worn would totally count.

Mom and I also tackled the first of several Pinterest recipes: Homemade Baileys! This stuff was intense, and we actually only used about half a cup of whiskey in our mix. I made a virgin version yesterday to keep here at the apartment, with milk instead of cream (and a LOT more of it, to combat the uuber-sweet of the condensed milk) and cocoa mix instead of cocoa powder (because I didn't have the latter). It's SO DANG GOOD.

We played some dominoes, and I made very poor decisions and did very bad math, because apparently I'm a lightweight and don't handle whiskey very well. (I mean, I'd never had it before, so...)

Friday: I was so excited about how well my first shirt came along that I worked on two more, then scoured my closet at home and found a few more I can work on at a later time. It's exciting, because I now have two shirts I've NEVER worn because they fit so terribly that are practically brand new to me. The third was a shirt I still wore, but it made me feel like a bag lady because it was way too big. An illustration:



See my face in the right side? THAT IS MY AMAZEMENT at how much better I look in this shirt! I've worn it like four times already, so it's like having a brand new shirt. I'm excited to tackle more of my closet like this, and guys, I'm not sure I'll ever wear another straight-cut t-shirt again, because I never realized how DREADFUL I look in them!

Mom and I worked on the second of the Pinterest recipes: Peanut Butter/Nutella Crescent Rolls. GUYS. THESE ARE DANGEROUS. VERY, VERY DANGEROUS. We only flippin' made eight, and I'm still almost certain I overdosed on them.

Dad kept giving me grief about working on projects instead of spending time with the family (despite the fact that I was working on things at the kitchen table, in the heart of Familyland), so I badgered my brothers into coming downstairs, and we had some knock-off Baileys and played a little Pirates of the Caribbean Life. Many idiotic and slightly tipsy things were said, but the highlight was Mom, at one point, saying, "Okay, so you're the number white."

Oh, yes, she did. XD



And that leads me up to LAST Saturday, which I'll write about (along with this past week) sometime tomorrow so as not to overwhelm the poor LJ servers with such a long entry!

♥

I wore my hair in pigtail braids a few days ago because I was too lazy to dry it before I ran out the door for work. I don't know that I'll ever give up that hairstyle. It's easy, it rarely bothers the Headache, and it keeps my hair mess-free and out of my face while I work. It's one of the most practical ways I can wear my hair given its current length. Still, as I walked through the lobby that morning, a niggling little question ninja-slapped me in the face: "Am I too old for this?"

A former co-worker of mine--someone I very much respected as a work colleague--once made a facebook status complaining that women over a certain age should not be allowed to wear pigtails. He went on to peg that age as "early twenties." I was shocked and offended, and though I never worked up the courage to say anything in response, the mental alienation I experienced afterward is something that stuck, to the point that I've now become a fully-fledged, self-discriminating Agist, measuring my every move against my years.

But I wonder, sometimes, if worrying about whether or not my hair is too "childish" is less a product of Agism and more a result of being force-fed all these unspoken standards of conventional beauty. I mean, what makes someone--anyone--judge a person by comparing his or her hairstyle to his or her age? The notion that their hairstyle is unbecoming, or not up to some standard of what is aesthetically pleasing on a person (of a certain age).

It's strange, because I find myself simultaneously dejected and defensive about this particular topic. Giving up makeup, wearing messy clothes, and going bra-less are all comfortable perks that I find enjoyable in private. But when I watch my roommate cake on her makeup late in the evening just because she's running over to her boyfriend's for a little while, I project upon myself a certain level of judgment. When we have unexpected company and my hair's dirty or I'm not wearing a bra, I feel like they're staring at me and thinking poorly of me, because how dare I defy that standard of beauty when someone else is around to see it? It's impolite. It's not considering the other person's aesthetics. It's inviting judgment.

A very good friend of mine once told me that he dresses nicely, even when he's only spending the day at home, to show his respect for the people around him (in this case, his family). I understand where he's coming from, but of course, it makes me feel somehow wrong, even guilty, for not feeling the same. I suppose a person who enjoys dressing up, like him, or a person who enjoys wearing makeup, like my roommate, might view it differently. To me, however, nice clothes and makeup are uncomfortable things that alienate me. When I wear these things, I feel like I'm forcing myself into a shell that wasn't meant to contain me, wrapping myself in another skin that matches the standards of beauty for everyone around me--but not for me. Forcing myself to do things like that--and feeling guilty or judged when I DON'T--essentially makes my appearance into something I, somehow, begrudgingly OWE to others.

Should it be that way? Or should it be the other way around? Shouldn't my appearance be something I owe to myself? And if it is, then is it selfish of me to value my own "standard of beauty" (in this case, freedom from that uncomfortable "shell") over the standards of others? Is it fair for me to defy the unspoken law that it's unbecoming for a woman my age to wear pigtail braids and not mascara, to subject the world to an alternate standard of beauty that exists in direct opposition to the acceptable norm?

When I dyed my hair, I had hoped that some of my friends would see how happy it made me and say something nice about it--despite my knowing that they don't think kindly on wacky dye jobs. My mom came around. She told me a few times how much she loved it, and while I'm 99% sure that what she meant was that she loved how much I loved it, the sentiment was the same. I was thrilled she "liked it." I spent the entire week I had yellow hair hoping for something similar from these two friends, but I never got it. One of them, I think, is just oblivious to appearance in general--or VERY good at hiding things if he's not. The other, I know, was trying his best to ignore it.

It's pathetic of me to admit this, but I was disappointed. And as RIDICULOUSLY HAPPY as that yellow hair made me (I mean RIDICULOUSLY), their lack of acceptance made me question it as much as I questioned my pigtail braids at work the other day. That odious little voice whispered, "You probably look stupid. People are judging you." Did I owe it to myself to do something I'd always wanted to do when it meant projecting an appearance that others--others that I CARE about and respect--wouldn't find acceptable?

I read an interesting article here the other day that helped me to feel empowered, helped me in my mental war against my former colleague, my friends, my roommate. I followed the internet trail from a quote I saw on Pinterest directly from the article:

You Don't Have to Be Pretty. You don't owe prettiness to anyone. Not to your boyfriend/spouse/partner, not to your co-workers, especially not to random men on the street. You don't owe it to your mother, you don't owe it to your children, you don't owe it to civilization in general. Prettiness is not a rent you pay for occupying a space marked "female".

Now, honestly, don't MOST of us feel that unspoken need to make ourselves "presentable" before we go out? Do we do that because it makes us feel good, or do we do it out of obligation? I'm sure many people fall into that first category. But me, I'm paying rent. I think I have been for a long time. And when I walk past a mirror at work and see my frizzy hair next to another woman's sleek, stylish hair, I feel like my check has bounced. When I run out in a t-shirt and the same jeans I've been wearing every day for a week, when I look at the redness in my face but choose not to wear makeup anyway, when I throw my hair in pigtail braids because I didn't feel like washing it... all those things give off the nasty impression that I'm somehow not paying my Beauty Dues to the world, despite the fact that I find them perfectly acceptable.

It's a prison. An appearance prison. The emotionally healthy people live outside the barbed wire fence and don't realize this place exists, because they don't heed any standards of beauty but their own and are happier for it. The rest of us, we're stuck in here. And some pay dues like clockwork, live up to society's expectations for acceptable beauty, and do well enough to get out on parole. The rest of us just keep taking out loans on false self-confidence, because somewhere deep down, we know we shouldn't have to pay any rent... but we pinch pennies and keep trying, anyway.