So much happening here. Here's the quick version:

• Allergies slowing me down, along with PMS (oh, the bloating and hormone headaches suck)
• My mullet-in-training will finally be chopped off this Friday. I can't wait! Sometimes a haircut feels so good. I'm going for supershort, gamine type hair-do. It's a gamble, but I've had my hair that short before and G. loves it. I'll post pics.
• Something rather traumatic happened to a person I love dearly. Trauma that close has a disturbing effect because it doesn't hit you directly. I'm not really at liberty to discuss it in detail. She is handling it very well, which I'm so relieved to see. Personal challenges can inspire strength--or, worst case scenario, make you fall apart. Jesus Christ, life is hard.
• I am procrastinating BIG TIME. Have you ever created a mental block against one particular errand, chore, activity, responsibilty, etc? And no matter how much you try to focus, this mental block prevents you from completing that errand until the very last minute? This is exactly my situation concerning a book review for my seminar. I'm in a funky situation with that class--I'm auditing it, so I don't necessarily have to do the work because I won't credit. But in my initial email with the professor asking if I could audit the class, there was an informal agreement that I would do the work. So I want to do the work and plan to do the work--except for this 5-page book review. I even missed class today-- in all honesty, it was 50% due to the book review and 50% due to coming to the aid to somebody in need (see above). The book review is still looming over me. Yep, it's late. I figure I've got until tomorrow night to email the prof with the review. By the way, I would NEVER extend it that long if I was taking the class for credit. Meanwhile, the mental block has me blogging and listening to Sirius radio online.

I guess that's it. Back to staring at the keyboard and willing my fingers to type something coherent out.

Well so much for speed blogging.

These past few weeks were really overwhelming. I feel only slightly less overwhelmed right now. Plus, today is Thursday, which in my mind, is practically Friday, so I'm moving into weekend mode. And, fingers crossed, my workload will allow a few hours of me-and-G. time this weekend. We need it.

Adding to my busy schedule is my twice-a-week foray into Group Fitness, i.e. Cardio Salsa. The class is structured like a dance class, so we do fun cumbia-salsa-merengue type moves. This past Monday, we learned a new routine (or at least new to me) that was less Latin-dance and more jazz-hands and shake-your-booty. I love it, the moves are fun. It doesn't feel like I'm exercising and, slightly embarrassing confession here, I've always wanted to be a dancer. My family talks about how I was alway jumping and moving about as a kid. Now I love dancing at parties and doing silly moves with Filo in my arms (I doubt she loves that part as much as me), so this is right up my alley. I think I keep up pretty well considering I'm new to the class and never took a real dance class in my life. A group of women are really, really good. And skinny. Good dancers and skinny. Actually, what I try not to focus on is that all the women in the class are pretty thin. G. says I'm exaggerating. Boy, I wish I were. Even discounting the two gross-skinny older women (bone-thin, bump-into-them-and-watch-them-crack thin), everyone else is smaller than me. Another thing I try to not focus on are how those wall-to-wall mirrors make me look in my work-out gear. Looking back at me is an image that doesn't meet my mental picture of Me. I don't expect to look like a beauty queen while sweating. At the same time, I don't like the way certain areas seem...pinch-able (perhaps this makes no sense, bear with me)

What all of this amounts to is that I'm trying hard not to let all the skinnies, muscular, athletic types who roam the Gym and my class intimidate me or make me feel bad about myself. So far, so good. I follow along the best I can and proceed to thrust my hips side-to-side and sashay corner-to-corner with attitude.

And by attitude, I'm referring to the John Tavolta up there OF COURSE. Actually, I'm more Finola Hughes than John Travolta. You get the picture.

Also, I've seen Saturday Night Fever and Staying Alive more times than I'm willing to admit.

I'm procrastinating big time. I stopped by my mom's house this morning on the way home from class and it put a crimp on my morning momemtum. So far, I've watched a little CNN, read NY Times online, then trolled from site to stupid site. I really don't feel like working on lectures or reading; I'm only good for napping at this point.

My head feels heavy after taking allergy medicine. The monsoon-rain has pretty much stopped, but we're still feeling the impact with millions of fearless mosquitos and late season allergies. Classic symptons plague me: itchy eyes and throat, runny nose, sneezing. Plus, I have itchy ears--this unpleasant itchiness deep down in my ear, a horrible sensation really because you can't reach the itch. It work me up last night. My mom thinks it might be ear wax.

I installed the satellite radio in my car now and bought a new atennae, so I'm getting my Howard fix again. Today's show was a rebroadcast from the morning of 9/11. It took me back to the uncertainty and utter, complete sadness of that morning. I have avoided 9/11 memorial stuff in the past. I should have done the same this year.

Yikes, sorry readers, today is all procrastination, sadness, and ear wax. Definitely a Monday.

Blogging in the 505*

G. and I (plus 2 more) drove up to Albuquerque yesterday. This visit is not really a vacation because I have research to do for my article. I'm looking through my old research files and other sources for images and maps of the neighborhood I wrote the article about. Unfortunately, I'm not having very much luck finding recent images or maps. I also just spent a rather frustrating hour or so scouring the library shelves for a book and coming up with nothing. This has happened to me in the past, as if books purposely lose themselves whenever I need them. As a (n indulgent) sidenote, I looked for my thesis. I've got a call number all my own!!, but couldn't find that it either. Books hate me.

Albuquerque is a cool, unique city. Last night, we ate a delicious meal at the Martini Grill (loads of ambiance) and had a drink at the best bar in the world, The Anodyne. This morning we ate at the famous (at least in these parts) Frontier restaurant where it's all about the flour tortillas and honey. Now, I'm sitting in one of my favorite coffee shops among kooky Albuquerqians who love their wire-frame glasses and extra laid-back attire. The weather is cooler, like fall has already started here, so everyone's wearing a mix of shorts, sweaters, tees and scarves. It does feel a wee-bit weird to be among so many Anglo Americans in one spot (Anglos are in El Paso too, of course, but they are more spread out).

We witnessed another aspect of Albuqueque last night. Behind our hotel, practically outside our window, three police cars drove up to deal with some guy beating up a woman.

I guess you gotta take the bad with the good.


*505 is Abq's area code.

Mind Over Body (the bad version)

My mind and body don't get along very well. As a matter of fact, the mind often totally ignores signs the body sends. But the body gets revenge.

Example: Last night, G. invited a fellow new grad student and his girlfriend over for dinner. They just moved from the interior of Mexico and are having a hard time adjusting (the university bureaucracy alone has been a nightmare). Plus, we are all salivating for our paychecks at the end of the month, so they could use a big meal (besides their reported diet of beans and rice). I got out of my evening class, they got out of their evening seminar, so dinner got to a late start. By the time we sat down, I was already slightly headachy from hunger and being tired. Nonetheless, a glass of red wine sounded really nice along with the lasagna, so G. poured me a glass. Everything moving along quite nice, headache at a bearable level, so I have another half-glass. For postre, we had one of my top dessert favorites, brownies with thick fudgy icing. Couldn't help myself, ate two small squares, even though I was full. It was around 1130 when they left and I still had to shower before bed, which left only about 5 1/2 hours for sleep because an evil spirit took over my mind last spring and agreed to 8 am classes every day of the week.

In the span of three hours, I experienced 4 classic headache triggers: tired, then not getting enough sleep, red wine, and chocolate. Wait, I forgot to mention allergies and I'm on my period.*

I woke up with an unbelievable headache. My headaches waver between cluster headaches, hormone headaches (thanks birth control pills!!), sinus headaches, and migraines. I think this one might have been a combo of all the above. Drag myself out of bed late. Slap on make-up while eyes water uncontrollably and the side of head feels like it's being pushed in by a vise. G. takes pity on me and feeds and takes out Filo, while I try to slurp down cereal and keep from moaning pathetically. It did cross my mind that I could cancel the class, but I only get ONE DAY for sickness or whatever (thanks EPCC!!) and it's the second week of classes. I've lectured with a headache before--I'll admit, it's not pretty.

I manage to get to class, lecture for 45 minutes and make sense, and talk to a student afterwards. Then it hits me in the car: neausea. Luckily, I carry grocery bags in my car (thanks Mom!!), so no mess.* I make it home (across the city, 20 minutes, I must add) and stumble into bed for a couple of hours. My sure-fire headache cure is two Excedrin, a coke, and sleep.

So now that I can process thoughts and sit-up, I'm left wondering what happened. Well, I know what happened because this is not the first time mind/body decided to go on strike. This morning was the body reacting to what the mind thought were great ideas last night even though it knows very well awful, horrible things could happen. Bottom line: listen, listen, listen. Can't we all just get along?!

I'd like to blame society for teaching me that my body is an alien being to hate (i.e I'm so fat), modify (i.e. plastic surgery), and abuse (i.e. fast food). Sure, that's part of it. But I KNOW better.


*Too much information? Too bad.