Friday, January 23, 2004
Waving Goodbye to Singledom
Well, tomorrow's the big day. Tonight is my last night of single-ness. I slept in my own bed for the last time as a single woman. I am getting married tomorrow. How many times can I say the same thing in different ways?
Woke up at 5am with a mild panic attack over all the stuff I think I still have to do. It's not really all that much, now that I am awake and lucid. But at 5am, my heart was pounding and my head was spinning and I knew I was wasting my last hour of sleep as I watched the clock tick away the minutes until the alarm went off at 6:15.
Everyone keeps commenting on how calm I am, how collected I seem. And perhaps that was true. But today...today, I can feel the calm fleeing me, like ground animals from an earthquake. The calmness is gone, replaced by slight twitchiness and an general unbelief that I have to go to work today, even for just a few hours.
Tomorrow I get married. Tomorrow.
Woke up at 5am with a mild panic attack over all the stuff I think I still have to do. It's not really all that much, now that I am awake and lucid. But at 5am, my heart was pounding and my head was spinning and I knew I was wasting my last hour of sleep as I watched the clock tick away the minutes until the alarm went off at 6:15.
Everyone keeps commenting on how calm I am, how collected I seem. And perhaps that was true. But today...today, I can feel the calm fleeing me, like ground animals from an earthquake. The calmness is gone, replaced by slight twitchiness and an general unbelief that I have to go to work today, even for just a few hours.
Tomorrow I get married. Tomorrow.
Wednesday, January 14, 2004
Isn't it crazy how small towns and cities will do thing for free that big cities charge out the ass for?
My hometown newspaper will print my wedding announcement for free -- with a picture, but the Austin American-Statesman will charge me at least $50 for an announcement with NO picture...and a whole lotta more cash for one with a pic.
Needless to say, I am not totally concerned about the Austin paper, but my mom wants all the people in Corpus to see that I got married. Free it is!
My hometown newspaper will print my wedding announcement for free -- with a picture, but the Austin American-Statesman will charge me at least $50 for an announcement with NO picture...and a whole lotta more cash for one with a pic.
Needless to say, I am not totally concerned about the Austin paper, but my mom wants all the people in Corpus to see that I got married. Free it is!
Monday, January 12, 2004
Oh my God I am so nervous my interview is in less than 45 minutes. My stomach is doing that weird psuedo-nausea thing and I'm all lightheaded and feel like I have to pee for the twelfth time in the last two hours.
Thursday, January 08, 2004
I got an interview! But I have to be prepared to show a sample of my best HTML work. Do you think it's bad to show my wedding website, which will reveal to just about everyone in the room that I'll be getting married less than two weeks from the interview? Trying to alter the website to be generic—or just Not Mine—seems sort of false. They're gonna find out eventually.
Tuesday, January 06, 2004
A Day in the Life
I have picked up an annoying new habit. In order to spend more quality time with my sweetie, I have agreed to get up at 5:45 in the morning two days a week and 6:00 in the morning three days a week to go to the gym with him. You morning people may not understand the pain, so let me describe this morning to you:
Alarm buzzes. I roll over and squint at insanely small green-backlit clock (note to self: get new clock with bigger, red numbers) and see "6:00."
Blech. "Honey, it's 6:00. Time to go work out." I am hoping he feels as awful as I do and will reply, "Oh, just snooze it...we can make it up tomorrow."
Instead, he grabs me by the waist and spoons. Hmmmm, I think, maybe we are snoozing. I snuggle in and murmer, "You want me to snooze?"
"No. I just wanted to hug you." Suddenly, a blast of cold air hits my butt and the back of my neck as he throws the comforter off.
Blech again.
But I love the man, so I get up, stagger to the bathroom, and shove my contacts in my eyes. Gym shorts, sweats, sports bra, tank top, hoodie. Socks, sneakers. Big, bulky backpack full of my shower stuff and work clothes. Leather coat, gloves, scarf.
Cold car. Air conditioner still on?!? I haven't driven Little Red in a few days, obviously. Temperature slider gets pushed all the way to the red, fan gets turned to "off" while the car warms up, radio gets changed from the awful 101X Morning Show to Morning Edition on KUT.
It's dark at 6:07 in the morning, few other cars on the road.
Campus is dead as I sail up Speedway. Park on 21st, in one of the "permit required 7:30-4:30" spots. Blech. Quick workout today—must have time to shower and move car by 7:30. Brian scoots into the spot in front of mine. I stand next to my car, facing into the wind, waiting for him to get his butt out of his car and start walking. It's too cold to wait for him but I do.
As we walk he says, "I already miss my heated seats." Blech. Lucky boy with the new car. It's definitely cold and my fingers are numb inside my gloves. I consider the benefit of mittens.
Into Gregory Gym. Warm, brightly lit, about two dozen other crazy people already on the machines in the "Cardio Theater." Dip into locker room to deposit bag, lose sweatpants, grab headphones. Back to "Cardio Theater" to watch CNN from the elliptical machine.
Bright side? Brian, at my side. With headphones, watching CNN from his elliptical machine. I notice how he sweats more than I do, that he uses the "reverse mode" every 5 minutes.
And at the end of our twenty minutes, we kiss and disappear into our separate locker rooms. When I emerge from the building 25 minutes later, I notice his car (parked right in front of mine) is already gone. But at least we started the day together.
Alarm buzzes. I roll over and squint at insanely small green-backlit clock (note to self: get new clock with bigger, red numbers) and see "6:00."
Blech. "Honey, it's 6:00. Time to go work out." I am hoping he feels as awful as I do and will reply, "Oh, just snooze it...we can make it up tomorrow."
Instead, he grabs me by the waist and spoons. Hmmmm, I think, maybe we are snoozing. I snuggle in and murmer, "You want me to snooze?"
"No. I just wanted to hug you." Suddenly, a blast of cold air hits my butt and the back of my neck as he throws the comforter off.
Blech again.
But I love the man, so I get up, stagger to the bathroom, and shove my contacts in my eyes. Gym shorts, sweats, sports bra, tank top, hoodie. Socks, sneakers. Big, bulky backpack full of my shower stuff and work clothes. Leather coat, gloves, scarf.
Cold car. Air conditioner still on?!? I haven't driven Little Red in a few days, obviously. Temperature slider gets pushed all the way to the red, fan gets turned to "off" while the car warms up, radio gets changed from the awful 101X Morning Show to Morning Edition on KUT.
It's dark at 6:07 in the morning, few other cars on the road.
Campus is dead as I sail up Speedway. Park on 21st, in one of the "permit required 7:30-4:30" spots. Blech. Quick workout today—must have time to shower and move car by 7:30. Brian scoots into the spot in front of mine. I stand next to my car, facing into the wind, waiting for him to get his butt out of his car and start walking. It's too cold to wait for him but I do.
As we walk he says, "I already miss my heated seats." Blech. Lucky boy with the new car. It's definitely cold and my fingers are numb inside my gloves. I consider the benefit of mittens.
Into Gregory Gym. Warm, brightly lit, about two dozen other crazy people already on the machines in the "Cardio Theater." Dip into locker room to deposit bag, lose sweatpants, grab headphones. Back to "Cardio Theater" to watch CNN from the elliptical machine.
Bright side? Brian, at my side. With headphones, watching CNN from his elliptical machine. I notice how he sweats more than I do, that he uses the "reverse mode" every 5 minutes.
And at the end of our twenty minutes, we kiss and disappear into our separate locker rooms. When I emerge from the building 25 minutes later, I notice his car (parked right in front of mine) is already gone. But at least we started the day together.
