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Your Tuesdays are now Mondays
Sep. 10th, 2002 12:21 pmThe rest of the week will be rescheduled. (pronounced with the soft -sch-, per British usage)
I kited out of work a little early yesterday, with the intention of meeting Ali at the bus stop. Ah, intentions. James is pretty freaking steep hill, let me tell you that, and my perception of distance is majorly fucked. A very short bus-ride and a ten-block walk later, I missed the bus Ali hopped on, and took the next 26 home instead.
I really love our downtown. Even walking up and down and sprinting for the bus in my pretty red strappy sandals, I feel like such a part of the city's energy. It's a living organism, and we're all just happy little blood cells or some such another analogy. The bus passed the Cinerama and the Hurricane on the way home, and I think I've finally got them settled in my mental map of the city - bus routes are easier for me to line up in the map than random places I've driven past once (or been driven to - even harder for me to navigate, if I wasn't the one driving.)
Still, the upshot of missing Monday here at the U means that all those lovely tasks I didn't finish Friday are still waiting for me. Lurking menacingly on my desk.
Happily, also lurking on my desk this morning was a thank-you gift from the doctor whose laptop was stolen, and for whom I'd worked my tail off getting him a replacement and getting it set up. $30 for Barnes and Noble. Hot Damn. The perfect gift, too. (Well, save for the almost criminal lack of shelf-space I'm currently experiencing.)
Ooh, and go me! One of my docs complimented me on the green&orange shirt I'm wearing today. (Oh, hush - it looks good) She said I'm very stylish - I look like I'm on the cutting edge of fashion. Hee! Fooled her, didn't I? I don't wear my pants nearly low enough, and I'm never showing enough belly. Ha. As if. Not until I get back into my morning crunches again, I won't.
It's just - I had no bloody clue about fashion when I was in high school. I'd worn school uniforms for ten years, and other than a heightened loathing for green plaid (on me, not on guys - I was already hooked into the kilt thing by that point.) So it was jeans and a determined struggle between me and my mother over what I liked and what she thought looked good. The compromise was not always... flattering.
And college wasn't much of a help - CC was very... crunchy, which meant that if you bathed daily, you were really pretty preppy to begin with. (or a real jock - those pesky Division I Hockey players.) Although. I think it was the stage costuming class I took my junior year that really started to bring things together. I started paying attention to fabric, color and style, and what looked good on what body type.
Seven years and eight jobs later, and my sense of what looks good on me, what's comfortable, what's fashionable and my actual wardrobe is finally all coinciding. I figure I have about a year to milk this situation before what's 'In' changes, and I suddenly become an old fuddy-duddy.
Ten minutes, and then I'm off to milk my gift card for reading materials.
I kited out of work a little early yesterday, with the intention of meeting Ali at the bus stop. Ah, intentions. James is pretty freaking steep hill, let me tell you that, and my perception of distance is majorly fucked. A very short bus-ride and a ten-block walk later, I missed the bus Ali hopped on, and took the next 26 home instead.
I really love our downtown. Even walking up and down and sprinting for the bus in my pretty red strappy sandals, I feel like such a part of the city's energy. It's a living organism, and we're all just happy little blood cells or some such another analogy. The bus passed the Cinerama and the Hurricane on the way home, and I think I've finally got them settled in my mental map of the city - bus routes are easier for me to line up in the map than random places I've driven past once (or been driven to - even harder for me to navigate, if I wasn't the one driving.)
Still, the upshot of missing Monday here at the U means that all those lovely tasks I didn't finish Friday are still waiting for me. Lurking menacingly on my desk.
Happily, also lurking on my desk this morning was a thank-you gift from the doctor whose laptop was stolen, and for whom I'd worked my tail off getting him a replacement and getting it set up. $30 for Barnes and Noble. Hot Damn. The perfect gift, too. (Well, save for the almost criminal lack of shelf-space I'm currently experiencing.)
Ooh, and go me! One of my docs complimented me on the green&orange shirt I'm wearing today. (Oh, hush - it looks good) She said I'm very stylish - I look like I'm on the cutting edge of fashion. Hee! Fooled her, didn't I? I don't wear my pants nearly low enough, and I'm never showing enough belly. Ha. As if. Not until I get back into my morning crunches again, I won't.
It's just - I had no bloody clue about fashion when I was in high school. I'd worn school uniforms for ten years, and other than a heightened loathing for green plaid (on me, not on guys - I was already hooked into the kilt thing by that point.) So it was jeans and a determined struggle between me and my mother over what I liked and what she thought looked good. The compromise was not always... flattering.
And college wasn't much of a help - CC was very... crunchy, which meant that if you bathed daily, you were really pretty preppy to begin with. (or a real jock - those pesky Division I Hockey players.) Although. I think it was the stage costuming class I took my junior year that really started to bring things together. I started paying attention to fabric, color and style, and what looked good on what body type.
Seven years and eight jobs later, and my sense of what looks good on me, what's comfortable, what's fashionable and my actual wardrobe is finally all coinciding. I figure I have about a year to milk this situation before what's 'In' changes, and I suddenly become an old fuddy-duddy.
Ten minutes, and then I'm off to milk my gift card for reading materials.
