I feel good. 'nuff said.
:)
Me
Friday, March 13, 2009
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Oh Jesus. Now this?
Are you a Workoholic?
Do you get more excited about your work than about family or anything else?
Are there times when you can charge through your work and other times when you can't?
Do you take work with you to bed? On weekends? On vacation?
Is work the activity you like to do best and talk about most?
Do you work more than 40 hours a week?
Do you turn your hobbies into money-making ventures?
Do you take complete responsibility for the outcome of your work efforts?
Have your family or friends given up expecting you on time?
Do you take on extra work because you are concerned that it won't otherwise get done?
Do you underestimate how long a project will take and then rush to complete it?
Do you believe that it is okay to work long hours if you love what you are doing?
Do you get impatient with people who have other priorities besides work?
Are you afraid that if you don't work hard you will lose your job or be a failure?
Is the future a constant worry for you even when things are going very well?
Do you do things energetically and competitively including play?
Do you get irritated when people ask you to stop doing your work in order to do something else?
Have your long hours hurt your family or other relationships?
Do you think about your work while driving, falling asleep or when others are talking?
Do you work or read during meals?
Do you believe that more money will solve the other problems in your life?
I answered fuck yes to all of the above. Now what?
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Ingenue in Wonderland.
Listen, I have something to admit, and I really would rather sit here blowing smoke up your (and mine) collective asses. In fact, so deep is my denial to the reality of the last few weeks that I've already mentally written this blog posts a few times with my fantasies intact. But alas, there's only one truth and that truth is, I have been renamed the Bacon Egg and Cheese Bandit.
My planned detox was going swimmingly. I was all about the spinach smoothies, watermelon, giant salads, and cooked food whenever I saw fit (as long as I didn't imbibe dairy or gluten). I FELT AWESOME. I had five toxic pounds melt off me and I wasn't stressed about my food. Big opportunities started chasing me down and, for a minute, it looked like all my dreams were on the verge of coming true.
Then my life happened.
I had already been putting in 10to 12 hour days on my site (normal for me) when three things happened in quick secession:
1. My co-worker announced he was taking an impromptu vacation during the most crucial part of our construction schedule.
2. A design got approved for a section of my project that requires MAJOR STRUCTURAL work and excrucitatingly long shifts to execute it.
3. It was decided by the heavens above that I would be covering the balance of the hours (basically day and night).
Hello 17 hour work day! You want to laugh? 15 hours is now a day off for me. 19 hours happened last Friday, and more often than not I'm dragging myself off this incredibly needy jobsite WISHING I could convince men to build for me just one more hour, because I don't know how this is going to get done otherwise.
But there are labor laws to prevent that sort of thing and that's really just me talking crazy anyways. I'm up every morning at 5 am, on the job by 7, and rarely hitting my bed before 11pm. FUCKING BRUTAL. At first, I was almost catching a bit of a buzz of the long hours (it's all too easy to become addicted to your work. Trust.) but now, I'm tired. Really, really tired. I'm balls deep in heavy construction mayhem and I can't see my way out anymore.
Basically, the month of March will consist of Ingenue building like her ass is on fire and little fucking else. Good thing I love my work. I got alot of it.
But that's not all! Adding insult to injury, my Arch Enemy Roommate has decided to rent out my room underneath me, effective April 1st. Meaning, I am also trying to find a new apartment right now and dealing with the emotional shitstorm this injustice has brewed up in me.
I stayed with my detox for the first few days and (with a slightly larger cooked food ratio) and then before I knew it: I ate. I mean, I ATE. It started with the first BE&C Bagel which tasted so amazing that I promptly chased it with another one. That day for lunch, I had a ginormous burrito dripping with sour cream. I had three Americanos for dinner and two california rolls for a midnight snack. I felt sooooo much better. I felt heavy and weighed down which can feel surprisingly grounding when your life seems to be speeding on without your consent. I slept like the dead that night. No strangely psychic dreams (a frequent occurence when I'm high raw), just a mild case of indigestion and a sore lower back.
And it went on and on. I haven't put on any weight, but that's solely due to stress and running around for 17 hrs a day. I feel like poo, but for the life of me, I really don't know what to do. Change that, I do know what to do. From here on out, I'll take it day by day. The thing is, I'm getting really good at taking care of myself. Seriously I am! But it takes time to be self-nourishing and that is the one thing I do not have these days. Also, I feel like all of my habits these days are reactive instead of proactive. Every morning I'm popping digestive enzymes and amino acids in a desperate bid to repair myself from yesterday's work abuse, so I can do it again. And again. And again. Eating well and exercising to try and keep your body in top physical condition is something else entirely. That feels so far away from me right now.
Those are the sins of yesterday. Today I write this with a coconut water and a bucket of cantaloupe next to me. All I can do is get up and try again, right? Construction will always be construction and Ingenue will always be the one and only In-gen-wheeee. I WILL learn how to do what I do and eat what my body needs at the same time.
No victims here, baby. And I'm done volunteering for ill health and untapped potential.
Mucho besos,
I xoxoxo
My planned detox was going swimmingly. I was all about the spinach smoothies, watermelon, giant salads, and cooked food whenever I saw fit (as long as I didn't imbibe dairy or gluten). I FELT AWESOME. I had five toxic pounds melt off me and I wasn't stressed about my food. Big opportunities started chasing me down and, for a minute, it looked like all my dreams were on the verge of coming true.
Then my life happened.
I had already been putting in 10to 12 hour days on my site (normal for me) when three things happened in quick secession:
1. My co-worker announced he was taking an impromptu vacation during the most crucial part of our construction schedule.
2. A design got approved for a section of my project that requires MAJOR STRUCTURAL work and excrucitatingly long shifts to execute it.
3. It was decided by the heavens above that I would be covering the balance of the hours (basically day and night).
Hello 17 hour work day! You want to laugh? 15 hours is now a day off for me. 19 hours happened last Friday, and more often than not I'm dragging myself off this incredibly needy jobsite WISHING I could convince men to build for me just one more hour, because I don't know how this is going to get done otherwise.
But there are labor laws to prevent that sort of thing and that's really just me talking crazy anyways. I'm up every morning at 5 am, on the job by 7, and rarely hitting my bed before 11pm. FUCKING BRUTAL. At first, I was almost catching a bit of a buzz of the long hours (it's all too easy to become addicted to your work. Trust.) but now, I'm tired. Really, really tired. I'm balls deep in heavy construction mayhem and I can't see my way out anymore.
Basically, the month of March will consist of Ingenue building like her ass is on fire and little fucking else. Good thing I love my work. I got alot of it.
But that's not all! Adding insult to injury, my Arch Enemy Roommate has decided to rent out my room underneath me, effective April 1st. Meaning, I am also trying to find a new apartment right now and dealing with the emotional shitstorm this injustice has brewed up in me.
I stayed with my detox for the first few days and (with a slightly larger cooked food ratio) and then before I knew it: I ate. I mean, I ATE. It started with the first BE&C Bagel which tasted so amazing that I promptly chased it with another one. That day for lunch, I had a ginormous burrito dripping with sour cream. I had three Americanos for dinner and two california rolls for a midnight snack. I felt sooooo much better. I felt heavy and weighed down which can feel surprisingly grounding when your life seems to be speeding on without your consent. I slept like the dead that night. No strangely psychic dreams (a frequent occurence when I'm high raw), just a mild case of indigestion and a sore lower back.
And it went on and on. I haven't put on any weight, but that's solely due to stress and running around for 17 hrs a day. I feel like poo, but for the life of me, I really don't know what to do. Change that, I do know what to do. From here on out, I'll take it day by day. The thing is, I'm getting really good at taking care of myself. Seriously I am! But it takes time to be self-nourishing and that is the one thing I do not have these days. Also, I feel like all of my habits these days are reactive instead of proactive. Every morning I'm popping digestive enzymes and amino acids in a desperate bid to repair myself from yesterday's work abuse, so I can do it again. And again. And again. Eating well and exercising to try and keep your body in top physical condition is something else entirely. That feels so far away from me right now.
Those are the sins of yesterday. Today I write this with a coconut water and a bucket of cantaloupe next to me. All I can do is get up and try again, right? Construction will always be construction and Ingenue will always be the one and only In-gen-wheeee. I WILL learn how to do what I do and eat what my body needs at the same time.
No victims here, baby. And I'm done volunteering for ill health and untapped potential.
Mucho besos,
I xoxoxo
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