I am a bad, bad blogger. Maybe I should resolve to blog more. Though, at this juncture, I don't think I need any more resolutions. My tasks at hand are already daunting enough. That being said, here's the good news:
1. Credit card one is paid off. WOOOOOOHOOOOOO!!! (Is that enough o's? I don't think so, either, but if I put the correct amount of o's in, my entire post would be o's. And o's aren't THAT interesting.)
2. Classes 1 and 2 for my Publishing Certification are complete (tho, I still haven't gotten my final grade or my graded project back from class 2, but it is complete). Oh, and class 1 I got an A. And it was the Graphic Design class. My hugest fear in scholastic life. Boo-ya!
Here's the bad news:
1. My bedtime habits are out of control. Here's my thing: because I don't want to get up and go to my job in the morning, I prolong going to bed at night, thus creating this hugely vicious cycle that involves extreme exhaustion and late night snacking. I need to motivate myself to go to bed earlier purely for my overall physical health. The question is: how?
2. As mentioned above, late night snacking. Hungry likes to visit me at night (bright orange bastard!). And I have severely lacked in my portioning tendencies. I have resolved to rectify this by keeping a food journal again. When I did that, I seemed to be extremely militant and motivated. I just need to remember to put my food journal in my tote bag. That's the key. So far, it hasn't made it in yet. Bad Jaime.
3. I am still in severe denial of any form of physician. Here's the pathetic thing: I searched doctors/dentists. Like exhaustive search. Found physician (and dentist). And that's where it stopped. Way to go, Jaime. No gold star for you. The irrational fear is so crippling. And what's horrible is that this is my health we're talking about. Something I should be pro, but irrational fear gets in the way and I'm like, naw, I'll just maintain status quo and live in fear of potential ailments and horrifying oral detriments. Yes, that makes so much sense. Dipshit. Maybe I should start having Steve or someone ask me regularly if I've made appointments yet. That way, I have to keep saying no aloud and hear my consistent failure. FAIL. FAIL. FAIL.
I'm going to unofficially resolve to blog more frequently, I promise. After all, tomorrow is a new month. A new, Springy month, which may bring with it some renewed sense of motivation. I look forward to you, April. Be not too showery!!!
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Friday, February 26, 2010
2010 Blog - Post Six
Do you ever feel like you're talking, and no one is listening? Or worse, everyone else is ALWAYS talking, and you're ALWAYS listening?
The way I see it, there are two kinds of people in this world: talkers and listeners. Both can sometimes do either, but they have a predilection for one of the two. I consider myself to have a great listening ability, but I am, by nature, a talker. As great as I can listen, I have and give excellent advice because I have an opinion about everything. How executives run businesses - have an opinion about it. What people actually wear and what they should wear - have an opinion about it. Which apples go better in an apple pie - have an opinion about it. Who people should and should not date and why - opinion. I'm Polish, what do you want from me? Similarly (although less violently) to my orca comrade in Seaworld (too soon? whatever. I'm still using the analogy), if, for whatever reason, I'm forced against my will from my natural predisposition into one that doesn't exactly suit me, I have a reaction. A lashing out, so to speak. To put it mildly, I get frustrated. And when I get frustrated, I shut down and proceed to harbor my frustration within myself, steaming and fuming until provoked. At which point, all hell breaks loose. Thank God I'M not in a tank surrounded by sticky-fingered children pointing at me, banging on the glass of my faux habitat creating this grating, incessant banging sound while I'm trying to nap. Cause I would have killed the next person who approached me, too. It's like the end of Waiting actually. You know, when the kid from Freaks and Geeks hasn't uttered a word ALL DAY cause everyone else around him is so self-absorbed and verbose? Anytime he has a thought or they give him a chance to speak, someone else butts in with his or her opinion and shuts the poor kid up before he can even articulate a sound. Then, at the end of the day he's had it. And he completely explodes in this magnificent display of cathartic logorrhea. That's precisely what happens to me if I've been shut up too long.
That being said, I feel like I've been pushed into the role of listener entirely too much lately. So much so that by the time whomever I'm talking to gives me a chance to speak, I'm so livid with anger, I limit my response soas not to say something that could get me fired or into trouble. Or I'm just so exhausted from listening that I don't care to exert the physical effort it would entail to speak. Too tired to speak? Me? Wow. Just this afternoon I had literally back-to-back phone calls in which the person on the other end was reluctant to let me speak. The first caller kept reiterating his confusion non-stop, leaving me to think, dude, if you'd shut up for like two seconds, I could clarify and you wouldn't have to waste my time or bore me any further with your ignorant virulence. You know what I just thought of? There's no male equivalent to bitch. Like, you're not going to say that the man was bitchy. So what do you say? Bastardly? That makes me feel pretentious. Eh, eff it. I'm using it. He was bastardly. Though, I kinda take a personal offense to that. Oh well. I'm still using it. Moving on. Second phone call. Woman could not understand the difference between the ongoing and completed operations portion of the endorsement we were discussing. I said I had a problem with the ongoing operations portion due to the language. She proceeds to call my attention to the completed operations portion that does not contain the language and provides the appropriate coverage. But not only does she call my attention to it, but she gives me a lengthy description. I am finally able to interject and say, yes, that's fine. I'm talking about ongoing operations. She again calls my attention to completed operations and discusses it further. Like, lady, save us both some time, let me explain cause you're too stupid to know the difference in coverage between ongoing and completed operations, and let me get off the damn phone cause I DON'T WANT TO TALK TO YOU (see previous post re: my abhorrence of human contact).
Furthermore, I just feel like on the day-to-day, I'm asked questions or inquiries are made regarding what's going on in my life, and when I have a legitimate answer or story, the person I'm talking to puts an imaginary stopper in my mouth mid-sentence to interject about their day or their opinion or what's going on in their life. Or an inquiry is never even made. It's like, omg this is going on in my life, listen to me. Me me me. Um, I'm an only child. And while I do care about you and what's going on in your life because you're my friend or what-have-you, I'm also an only child. And I care about me and what's going on in my life. And you should, too. Or what's worse is if I have something truly exciting and I'm like all amped to talk about it, and the person I'm talking to is completely unphased. Hence the lack of listening. There is nothing worse for me that halted excitement. It's like the supreme let down. Cause then you don't even care about it anymore. It's lost its lustre. It's like an engagement ring after the wedding's been postponed or called off. And you're just left with this meaningless lump of previously wondrous joy that's dull and matte. And who likes matte? No one voluntarily chooses matte. No one goes to the store and is like, I would LOVE that matte paint for my room. Or omg I'm looking for this FABULOUS matte lipstick to make my lips look caked. Yes, please. Bring it on.
Ugh, anyway, I wish I had a way of tying this in to my Blog theme, but I don't. I just needed an outlet, and the blog isn't going to interrupt me or talk incessantly, inhibiting me from getting a word in edgewise. Unless, of course, there's a technological malfunction and windows decides to temporarily stop functioning for no apparent reason. At which point, yes, there will be an interruption. And I will be forced to grab someone and pull them into my tank and tear them limb from limb (exaggeration).
The way I see it, there are two kinds of people in this world: talkers and listeners. Both can sometimes do either, but they have a predilection for one of the two. I consider myself to have a great listening ability, but I am, by nature, a talker. As great as I can listen, I have and give excellent advice because I have an opinion about everything. How executives run businesses - have an opinion about it. What people actually wear and what they should wear - have an opinion about it. Which apples go better in an apple pie - have an opinion about it. Who people should and should not date and why - opinion. I'm Polish, what do you want from me? Similarly (although less violently) to my orca comrade in Seaworld (too soon? whatever. I'm still using the analogy), if, for whatever reason, I'm forced against my will from my natural predisposition into one that doesn't exactly suit me, I have a reaction. A lashing out, so to speak. To put it mildly, I get frustrated. And when I get frustrated, I shut down and proceed to harbor my frustration within myself, steaming and fuming until provoked. At which point, all hell breaks loose. Thank God I'M not in a tank surrounded by sticky-fingered children pointing at me, banging on the glass of my faux habitat creating this grating, incessant banging sound while I'm trying to nap. Cause I would have killed the next person who approached me, too. It's like the end of Waiting actually. You know, when the kid from Freaks and Geeks hasn't uttered a word ALL DAY cause everyone else around him is so self-absorbed and verbose? Anytime he has a thought or they give him a chance to speak, someone else butts in with his or her opinion and shuts the poor kid up before he can even articulate a sound. Then, at the end of the day he's had it. And he completely explodes in this magnificent display of cathartic logorrhea. That's precisely what happens to me if I've been shut up too long.
That being said, I feel like I've been pushed into the role of listener entirely too much lately. So much so that by the time whomever I'm talking to gives me a chance to speak, I'm so livid with anger, I limit my response soas not to say something that could get me fired or into trouble. Or I'm just so exhausted from listening that I don't care to exert the physical effort it would entail to speak. Too tired to speak? Me? Wow. Just this afternoon I had literally back-to-back phone calls in which the person on the other end was reluctant to let me speak. The first caller kept reiterating his confusion non-stop, leaving me to think, dude, if you'd shut up for like two seconds, I could clarify and you wouldn't have to waste my time or bore me any further with your ignorant virulence. You know what I just thought of? There's no male equivalent to bitch. Like, you're not going to say that the man was bitchy. So what do you say? Bastardly? That makes me feel pretentious. Eh, eff it. I'm using it. He was bastardly. Though, I kinda take a personal offense to that. Oh well. I'm still using it. Moving on. Second phone call. Woman could not understand the difference between the ongoing and completed operations portion of the endorsement we were discussing. I said I had a problem with the ongoing operations portion due to the language. She proceeds to call my attention to the completed operations portion that does not contain the language and provides the appropriate coverage. But not only does she call my attention to it, but she gives me a lengthy description. I am finally able to interject and say, yes, that's fine. I'm talking about ongoing operations. She again calls my attention to completed operations and discusses it further. Like, lady, save us both some time, let me explain cause you're too stupid to know the difference in coverage between ongoing and completed operations, and let me get off the damn phone cause I DON'T WANT TO TALK TO YOU (see previous post re: my abhorrence of human contact).
Furthermore, I just feel like on the day-to-day, I'm asked questions or inquiries are made regarding what's going on in my life, and when I have a legitimate answer or story, the person I'm talking to puts an imaginary stopper in my mouth mid-sentence to interject about their day or their opinion or what's going on in their life. Or an inquiry is never even made. It's like, omg this is going on in my life, listen to me. Me me me. Um, I'm an only child. And while I do care about you and what's going on in your life because you're my friend or what-have-you, I'm also an only child. And I care about me and what's going on in my life. And you should, too. Or what's worse is if I have something truly exciting and I'm like all amped to talk about it, and the person I'm talking to is completely unphased. Hence the lack of listening. There is nothing worse for me that halted excitement. It's like the supreme let down. Cause then you don't even care about it anymore. It's lost its lustre. It's like an engagement ring after the wedding's been postponed or called off. And you're just left with this meaningless lump of previously wondrous joy that's dull and matte. And who likes matte? No one voluntarily chooses matte. No one goes to the store and is like, I would LOVE that matte paint for my room. Or omg I'm looking for this FABULOUS matte lipstick to make my lips look caked. Yes, please. Bring it on.
Ugh, anyway, I wish I had a way of tying this in to my Blog theme, but I don't. I just needed an outlet, and the blog isn't going to interrupt me or talk incessantly, inhibiting me from getting a word in edgewise. Unless, of course, there's a technological malfunction and windows decides to temporarily stop functioning for no apparent reason. At which point, yes, there will be an interruption. And I will be forced to grab someone and pull them into my tank and tear them limb from limb (exaggeration).
Friday, February 12, 2010
2010 Blog - Post Five
Pay no attention to the time stamp on this blog. I am in NO WAY blogging at work . . .
I've had it this week, so please bear with my emotional catharsis in the form of a blog post. That and if I have to look at/deny one more insurance certificate this week, I may spontaneously combust BTVS-style.
When did human default mode switch to virulent? I'm not even talking when did it transition from 1950s Pleasantville-style. I'm talking about how people just seemed to be overall more pleasant, polite, curteous back in the day. Not even nice, just curteous. I don't even think people know what curteous even means anymore. I'll get to my point about this in a minute, but first I'll explain the fact that I've sort of watched myself deteriorate over the past like eight months, and it's come to a head. How did I get here? I've become this monstrous atrocity, ready to lash out at even the slightest provocation. I referred to myself as the Jabberwocky today. WTF?! That's not me! I'm not some cloven-footed, winged, snarling pierced-eyed horror demon of the acid-tripped imagination. Not really. But that is the result of my metamorphosis. I've racked and racked my brain to try and ascertain what leads me to become this intolerant heinous monster, and I think I have some form of answer: people verbally fight with me 9 hours a day. From the moment I open my Outlook in the morning to the moment I finally "x" out of it at night, the people I communicate with as I perform my job constantly argue with me. They disagree, they outright refuse to provide me with what I'm requesting, and they're stalwart about it. They tell me no like a mom tells a child regarding ice cream before dinner. The kind of no that you don't bother to ask "why" because it's merely "because I said so," and that is all. Nothing further. No follow-up necessary. Give up now.
But, sadly, I can't "give up now." I have to reply and fight back. I have to subject myself to further insult and injury. The dreaded, "I understand what you're requesting, but we're not giving it to you," reply. "But . . . that's not good enough?" I reply outloud to no one in particular, in my small, defeated, pathetic on-the-verge-of-tears voice. And I'm not even bringing up when they question my authority ("Have you ok'd this with your Risk Management department? I really think you should bring it to them." --> I AM IN RISK MANAGEMENT!!! You think I'm making this shit up?!), scapegoat me ("You never told us there was an issue." Um, I sent you an email back in October. "We never got it." Oh . . . convenient.), tell me to review it again because there's nothing wrong with it ("This is what the company provides. Have your Risk Manager look at it again." Um, we know. We deal with these issues every day. We've reviewed it repeatedly. And we still say no . . .), blame me for how the team handled the issue in the past ("We've never had this issue before" or "This was accepted this way on a previous project" Well, the person who handled this prior dropped the ball cause you should have had an issue before and it should not have been accepted. But I'm on this project NOW and I'm NOT accepting it), the list goes on.
That being said, why wouldn't I constantly be on the defense at all times? If, for one millisecond, I'm not hunched over, knees slightly bent, head erect, eyes darting to and fro, someone may come up from behind me and knock me flat on my ass, resulting in SEVERE damage to my tailbone. And that's NOT fun. But it's becoming ridiculous. I'm suited up at ALL times. Like, not just when I need to be. And it's wreaking havoc on me. Resulting in aforementioned Jabberwocky. Jabberwocky who has taken up a necessity for daily afternoon M&M fixes from the vending machine. And here lies my other issue. SO I had just gotten to a wonderful happy place where instead of craving food or alcohol when I got stressed out, I'd want to go to the gym. I'd be like, OMG today sucked. I need to get on the elliptical. It was marvelous. I've always wanted to be one of "those" people. And I was. And it was so awesome. But now, because my schedule has been all switched up because of the holidays and school, the stress has gotten the better of me in the past couple weeks. I no longer crave the elliptical. I now find solace in pj bottoms, mindless television, and chocolate. The eternal chocolate. Damn Spaniards. And it's frustrating me. Where's that damn girl who craved the elliptical instead? Oh, that's right, the Jabberwocky kidnapped her and she fell into the rabbit hole.
I have, however, devised a plan. Not so much for how to destroy the Jabberwocky (it's not as easy as Alice overcoming her unwarranted imaginary fear. This is VERY real.), but for saving the girl on the elliptical. So I've concluded that part of the reason I had gotten so disciplined and focused in the fall was because I had purpose. I was in training for something tangible. I had a deadline. Now, wtf do I have besides free reign and way too much stress that not even Willy Wonka could cure (please, don't bring up oompa loompas. In my world, the chocolate factory is an oompa loompa-free zone). Enter Lent. I know I know, but please, don't judge. So Tuesday is Fat Tuesday, which means Wednesday is Ash Wednesday and the start of the Lenten season. Now, while yes, I am not a practicing Catholic. I even got out of Church at Christmas this past year. However, Lent is one of those crazy ideas those Catholics put forth that always kinda resonated with me. I have no idea why. But, so much so, I still refuse to eat meat on Fridays during it. And I still either try to give something up or do something good. So this year, in tune with the season of sacrifice and betterment, I will use that sentiment as a benchmark for getting back into the swing of things. The way I see it, as I work toward the betterment of myself, I, in turn, in theory, achieve betterment with others. So maybe the key to slaying the Jabberwocky actually lies in freeing the elliptical girl. Who knows? Let's get elliptical girl out of the rabbit hole first . . .
I've had it this week, so please bear with my emotional catharsis in the form of a blog post. That and if I have to look at/deny one more insurance certificate this week, I may spontaneously combust BTVS-style.
When did human default mode switch to virulent? I'm not even talking when did it transition from 1950s Pleasantville-style. I'm talking about how people just seemed to be overall more pleasant, polite, curteous back in the day. Not even nice, just curteous. I don't even think people know what curteous even means anymore. I'll get to my point about this in a minute, but first I'll explain the fact that I've sort of watched myself deteriorate over the past like eight months, and it's come to a head. How did I get here? I've become this monstrous atrocity, ready to lash out at even the slightest provocation. I referred to myself as the Jabberwocky today. WTF?! That's not me! I'm not some cloven-footed, winged, snarling pierced-eyed horror demon of the acid-tripped imagination. Not really. But that is the result of my metamorphosis. I've racked and racked my brain to try and ascertain what leads me to become this intolerant heinous monster, and I think I have some form of answer: people verbally fight with me 9 hours a day. From the moment I open my Outlook in the morning to the moment I finally "x" out of it at night, the people I communicate with as I perform my job constantly argue with me. They disagree, they outright refuse to provide me with what I'm requesting, and they're stalwart about it. They tell me no like a mom tells a child regarding ice cream before dinner. The kind of no that you don't bother to ask "why" because it's merely "because I said so," and that is all. Nothing further. No follow-up necessary. Give up now.
But, sadly, I can't "give up now." I have to reply and fight back. I have to subject myself to further insult and injury. The dreaded, "I understand what you're requesting, but we're not giving it to you," reply. "But . . . that's not good enough?" I reply outloud to no one in particular, in my small, defeated, pathetic on-the-verge-of-tears voice. And I'm not even bringing up when they question my authority ("Have you ok'd this with your Risk Management department? I really think you should bring it to them." --> I AM IN RISK MANAGEMENT!!! You think I'm making this shit up?!), scapegoat me ("You never told us there was an issue." Um, I sent you an email back in October. "We never got it." Oh . . . convenient.), tell me to review it again because there's nothing wrong with it ("This is what the company provides. Have your Risk Manager look at it again." Um, we know. We deal with these issues every day. We've reviewed it repeatedly. And we still say no . . .), blame me for how the team handled the issue in the past ("We've never had this issue before" or "This was accepted this way on a previous project" Well, the person who handled this prior dropped the ball cause you should have had an issue before and it should not have been accepted. But I'm on this project NOW and I'm NOT accepting it), the list goes on.
That being said, why wouldn't I constantly be on the defense at all times? If, for one millisecond, I'm not hunched over, knees slightly bent, head erect, eyes darting to and fro, someone may come up from behind me and knock me flat on my ass, resulting in SEVERE damage to my tailbone. And that's NOT fun. But it's becoming ridiculous. I'm suited up at ALL times. Like, not just when I need to be. And it's wreaking havoc on me. Resulting in aforementioned Jabberwocky. Jabberwocky who has taken up a necessity for daily afternoon M&M fixes from the vending machine. And here lies my other issue. SO I had just gotten to a wonderful happy place where instead of craving food or alcohol when I got stressed out, I'd want to go to the gym. I'd be like, OMG today sucked. I need to get on the elliptical. It was marvelous. I've always wanted to be one of "those" people. And I was. And it was so awesome. But now, because my schedule has been all switched up because of the holidays and school, the stress has gotten the better of me in the past couple weeks. I no longer crave the elliptical. I now find solace in pj bottoms, mindless television, and chocolate. The eternal chocolate. Damn Spaniards. And it's frustrating me. Where's that damn girl who craved the elliptical instead? Oh, that's right, the Jabberwocky kidnapped her and she fell into the rabbit hole.
I have, however, devised a plan. Not so much for how to destroy the Jabberwocky (it's not as easy as Alice overcoming her unwarranted imaginary fear. This is VERY real.), but for saving the girl on the elliptical. So I've concluded that part of the reason I had gotten so disciplined and focused in the fall was because I had purpose. I was in training for something tangible. I had a deadline. Now, wtf do I have besides free reign and way too much stress that not even Willy Wonka could cure (please, don't bring up oompa loompas. In my world, the chocolate factory is an oompa loompa-free zone). Enter Lent. I know I know, but please, don't judge. So Tuesday is Fat Tuesday, which means Wednesday is Ash Wednesday and the start of the Lenten season. Now, while yes, I am not a practicing Catholic. I even got out of Church at Christmas this past year. However, Lent is one of those crazy ideas those Catholics put forth that always kinda resonated with me. I have no idea why. But, so much so, I still refuse to eat meat on Fridays during it. And I still either try to give something up or do something good. So this year, in tune with the season of sacrifice and betterment, I will use that sentiment as a benchmark for getting back into the swing of things. The way I see it, as I work toward the betterment of myself, I, in turn, in theory, achieve betterment with others. So maybe the key to slaying the Jabberwocky actually lies in freeing the elliptical girl. Who knows? Let's get elliptical girl out of the rabbit hole first . . .
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
2010 Blog - Post Four
Ok so a few people have given me shit for not updating on the reg, and for that I apologize. Please don't stop reading me! I have precious few followers as it is! The truth of the matter is, I need more hours in the day. This week is week four of classes, and I now know why people elect not to go back to school. It's bloody hard, man! I give people in legit school, getting masters degrees or going to law school at night, such props for what they do. And working mothers who do it . . . just insane. I mean, comparatively speaking, my school isn't THAT arduous or time consuming. I'm enrolled in two classes at a time, each of which meets only once a week. The homework is, for the most part, little and limited. But it still blows my mind. I mean, for me, I have to work 9 hour days. Then, on Mon., Wed., and Fri., I go to the gym after work and have to do whatever errands I may need to do or whatever chores around the house need to get done. Tues. and Thurs. post work, I go to class from 6-9. Somewhere among all that, I have to fit in whatever assignments I may have. Which, yes, may sound easy seeing as how I have an entire weekend to myself. HOWEVER, the issue arises when I have weekend plans. Things going on. OR even spending the weekend away. Then I have to cram everything into the nooks and crannies of free time I may have whenever. It's mind boggling to me. AND I don't even have kids! Can you imagine having kids and juggling work, school, soccer practices, tennis lessons, cooking dinners, grocery shopping, doing laundry, maintaining the household, homework?! Oy.
That being said, I am having SO MUCH FUN in my classes!!! Aside from the fact that I completely SUCK at graphic design, I'm trying. I completed my first project for that class last night - four hours and multiple cross references on the instructional DVD later. Mind you, the finished product is my third concept, second attempt (first attempt was Wed. when I spent 3 hours trying out the program on my own personal computer... haha!). But I guess that's how it is in design anyway: Brainstorming. Trial and error. Revisions. New territory for me. I'm used to revising my written work as I go along. But this was literally concept, concept, execution, scrap, concept, execution. It is by no means a work of art, but I did it. I've accomplished a work of graphic design! And my other class is just awesome. Normal people would consider "Business of Publishing" boring. I, on the other hand, am sponging it up. I completely overstudied for my first quiz last week. Got the trick bonus question correct. Am legit getting the info. Have the answers to those reinforcing example questions teachers pose during lectures. And I just want to learn more. I never really liked school before. I mean, I had those few classes that I enjoyed. But never liked school as a whole. Now, it's this whole new thing. I truly truly love it.
In other news, I added a bit to my "wedding dress fund." AND after February's payment, my credit card is down to $348!!! I can hardly believe that balance. I've decided that once I pay off the cards, I will make my doctor's appointments, cause then I will have the extra money to work with, and no more excuses. Additionally, I've decided to hold off on preparing for the personal training exam until after I finish the publishing certificate, so I can focus on each individually. My time frame then is: finish publishing certificate in August, start studying for personal training in September, study until hands-on seminar March 2011, take exam. Seems completely doable. Now to determine the motivator for early bedtime . . . Suggestions???
That being said, I am having SO MUCH FUN in my classes!!! Aside from the fact that I completely SUCK at graphic design, I'm trying. I completed my first project for that class last night - four hours and multiple cross references on the instructional DVD later. Mind you, the finished product is my third concept, second attempt (first attempt was Wed. when I spent 3 hours trying out the program on my own personal computer... haha!). But I guess that's how it is in design anyway: Brainstorming. Trial and error. Revisions. New territory for me. I'm used to revising my written work as I go along. But this was literally concept, concept, execution, scrap, concept, execution. It is by no means a work of art, but I did it. I've accomplished a work of graphic design! And my other class is just awesome. Normal people would consider "Business of Publishing" boring. I, on the other hand, am sponging it up. I completely overstudied for my first quiz last week. Got the trick bonus question correct. Am legit getting the info. Have the answers to those reinforcing example questions teachers pose during lectures. And I just want to learn more. I never really liked school before. I mean, I had those few classes that I enjoyed. But never liked school as a whole. Now, it's this whole new thing. I truly truly love it.
In other news, I added a bit to my "wedding dress fund." AND after February's payment, my credit card is down to $348!!! I can hardly believe that balance. I've decided that once I pay off the cards, I will make my doctor's appointments, cause then I will have the extra money to work with, and no more excuses. Additionally, I've decided to hold off on preparing for the personal training exam until after I finish the publishing certificate, so I can focus on each individually. My time frame then is: finish publishing certificate in August, start studying for personal training in September, study until hands-on seminar March 2011, take exam. Seems completely doable. Now to determine the motivator for early bedtime . . . Suggestions???
Sunday, January 24, 2010
2010 Blog - Post Three
As I sit preparing to write this, I realize it's been eleven days since last I posted. Where does the time go? Seriously, eleven days have elapsed, and I have no recollection of how and where the time went. Nevertheless, we shall move forward.
So, on the 18th Steve and I celebrated our Two Year Anniversary. It's technically been longer than that, but for the sake of clarification and actually just focusing on our present and future and not dwelling on the convoluted past, we decided to just count it from when we officially got "back together" on Jan. 18, 2008. Sadly, we could not spend the day together since Steve had to work and I elect to take the "Floating Holiday" that is MLK Jr. Day. I won't lie and pretend it was ok. I was actually really bummed out all day that I was spending it alone. I realize there are tons of people in this world who spend anniversaries apart from their significant others/spouses for reasons far worse and heartwrenching than mine, but I was still sad. Needless to say, I didn't do anything besides go to the gym that day. I couldn't really bear it, especially because he wasn't even able to get out early and arrived home around 6:30 PM. But he came home bestowing two dozen gorgeous pink and white roses in honor of the occasion claiming there was one rose "for every day we've been together." It's been a while since he's brought home flowers, so I was beside myself. And the card he gave me was just absolutely beautiful so it made up for it a little.
So it's been two years. And I am so lucky to have him. I really am. Not only did he completely save me from myself, but he is just the most amazing person in the world. So it consistently baffles me at how completely ridiculous I can be. I like to think that it's just because I come from crazy argumentative women and was trained to be on edge and defensive. I seriously hope that's the case, and I'm not just crazy. Because I hate that I do things sometimes that make me go, "Jaime, why the hell are you mad at him? Seriously?" I also think my job has something to do with it as well. Literally, for 9 hours a day, I have to be on the defense. I have subcontractors and insurance agents down my back blaming me for whatever's wrong with their insurance certificate. Somehow it's MY fault that they never responded to my request for revision three months ago and now their paycheck is being held for insufficient insurance. It's MY fault that their insurance does not meet our requirements when they signed a subcontract that explicitly highlights our requirements in depth. I'm the mean spirited Wicked Witch of the West, and they're just poor innocent little Dorothy who's just trying to find her way home, and I'm sending out my flying monkeys to inhibit that from happening (this being a metaphor for payment, obviously). I'm not making excuses. I'm just trying to ascertain the origin of my projections. I'm hoping that my outlook and attitude changes once I change jobs, but in the interim, I seriously need to step it up. Steve goals need to be addressed because I don't need two crazy people in the house, and it's not his fault that I'm painted green at work.
Also last week, I started my classes!!! This is huge. HUGE! So I'm not going to lie, it was strange. Going back was just surreal. Going back to the place I did undergrad was even more surreal. So much so, I felt the need to tell the girl in the bookstore I had already graduated and was just taking a supplemental program. I am not an undergrad, thank you very much. Even though I probably look it. Hell, I probably look like I'm in high school. But everyone should know that appearance is not everything. Anyway, I drive to campus, which is weird in and of itself. I felt like a mega tool driving up and parking on Comm Ave. Like, no one drives. Well, the rich study abroad foreign students do. They drive their BMW's around campus, which is equally toolish. So when I drive up with my Saturn, I feel even more like a tool. WHATEVER. I am not an undergrad. I am not an undergrad. Or that's what I kept saying to myself to feel less intimidated as the actual undergrads are walking by. Yes, I am the 25 year old who's still intimidated by people younger than she or her age when they're in my vicinity in groups. Utterly ridiculous, I know.
So, I'm already a little nervous for my first class for the obvious reason of having been out of school for four years. Compound that with the fact that my class is in the Fuller Building. A building that NO ONE ever uses, and I myself had only ever been in once. I walk in and look at the floor plan, hoping to see the elusive "Lab #2" where my class is being held. Much to my dismay, it is not listed. Of course. After walking up and down the hall like three times, I finally use my powers of deduction to theorize where this "Lab #2" may be. BU likes to number its classrooms based on floor numbers. So maybe, just maybe, "Lab #2" is on the second floor. I ascend. I reach the second floor, and my elated hopes at seeing a live person who may know where I need to go are deflated as she looks at me like I have eight heads when I mention elusive "Lab #2." I meander some more. Thank God I had the presence of mind to allow myself time to get lost. I eventually happen upon a Computer Science PC Lab area, but my class is not listed anywhere on the boards indicating up-and-coming classes to be held there. I inquire with some more live people next door who suggest I ask the on-duty lab assistant, who assures me that my class is in fact there. I am not persuaded. Only at 5:55 when the instructor arrived was I assured I was where I was supposed to be. Glad to see BU hasn't changed in four years.
I knew going in, this was going to be my most difficult course. Graphic Design. Crap. Part of what works so famously about Steve and I is that he's the visual one. He's an architect, so he's visually conceptual. I'm the verbal one. I'm a writer. I love words. So the notion of Graphic Design is like Hell. I would honestly rather due mathematical equations than design shit on the computer. Class 1 was rough. Learning the interface of InDesign CS4. WTF is that?! And what's worse, the barely English speaking Asian man sits next to me and decides to ask me and the girl sitting on his other side every time he got lost or confused. I'm sorry buddy, but this class is like my nightmare, and I REALLY need to pay attention. I left the class still kinda excited, but a little deflated. Thank God it's only 7 weeks, and there's 1 down. Six more weeks . . .
Thursday I was revived. First of all, the class is in CAS. Oh CAS. We meet again. Second of all, as sad as I am that the food cart in the basement is no longer, there is an Einstein Brothers bagel shop there instead. Hello large fountain Diet Mountain Dew!!! Third of all, the class is TOTALLY my speed. It is "Business of Publishing." Lecture. Notetaking. Discussion. YES!!! Notes!!! I LOVE taking notes. OMG. I'm like a masochist. Notes make me feel better. Words. Joyousness. And I learned A LOT in my first class. Not only that, but I got really excited about my final project. The instructor gave us five options for our final projects. One of which being designing a business plan for a subscription-based magazine. Dude! I can so use this course as a vehicle for my future career choices. I can do my final project about the magazine I want to create! How perfect! I left class that night on cloud nine. This will be ok. I'll be ok. I will not let Graphic Design get me!
My only issue is my workout regiment. I hate having my days off be my class days. Since I obviously can't go to the gym on Tues and Thurs, I had to manipulate my workout schedule on the alternate 5 days, which works out fine for Mon and Wed. But Fri is tough. Friday was always Steve and my flub day. We're both tired and unmotivated on Fri. Needless to say, we didn't go to the gym Fri, so I had to double up Sat, and that meant I had three days off last week, not two, which doesn't bode well with me. I also have been thinking, what the hell am I going to do when I have stuff going on on weekends where I can't get to the gym? Obviously, I'll have to work around it. It's just going to be really tough. And I thought today about maybe doing combination days when I'm in school, but I hate combination days. I feel like I don't make enough progress. I'll just have to play it by ear I guess. And just try and be REALLY good at my eating to counter it. So much to do!!!
And lastly, as a random sum up, no, I haven't made any doctor's appointments yet. And no, I haven't been going to bed earlier. I know. I know. BUT I am making progress financially. I should have my credit card paid off by March (yay!) and the second one not long after, with the help of my tax return. Come on Cigna and send my proof of health insurance already!!! I hate having all these forms. Oh well, another week begins!
So, on the 18th Steve and I celebrated our Two Year Anniversary. It's technically been longer than that, but for the sake of clarification and actually just focusing on our present and future and not dwelling on the convoluted past, we decided to just count it from when we officially got "back together" on Jan. 18, 2008. Sadly, we could not spend the day together since Steve had to work and I elect to take the "Floating Holiday" that is MLK Jr. Day. I won't lie and pretend it was ok. I was actually really bummed out all day that I was spending it alone. I realize there are tons of people in this world who spend anniversaries apart from their significant others/spouses for reasons far worse and heartwrenching than mine, but I was still sad. Needless to say, I didn't do anything besides go to the gym that day. I couldn't really bear it, especially because he wasn't even able to get out early and arrived home around 6:30 PM. But he came home bestowing two dozen gorgeous pink and white roses in honor of the occasion claiming there was one rose "for every day we've been together." It's been a while since he's brought home flowers, so I was beside myself. And the card he gave me was just absolutely beautiful so it made up for it a little.
So it's been two years. And I am so lucky to have him. I really am. Not only did he completely save me from myself, but he is just the most amazing person in the world. So it consistently baffles me at how completely ridiculous I can be. I like to think that it's just because I come from crazy argumentative women and was trained to be on edge and defensive. I seriously hope that's the case, and I'm not just crazy. Because I hate that I do things sometimes that make me go, "Jaime, why the hell are you mad at him? Seriously?" I also think my job has something to do with it as well. Literally, for 9 hours a day, I have to be on the defense. I have subcontractors and insurance agents down my back blaming me for whatever's wrong with their insurance certificate. Somehow it's MY fault that they never responded to my request for revision three months ago and now their paycheck is being held for insufficient insurance. It's MY fault that their insurance does not meet our requirements when they signed a subcontract that explicitly highlights our requirements in depth. I'm the mean spirited Wicked Witch of the West, and they're just poor innocent little Dorothy who's just trying to find her way home, and I'm sending out my flying monkeys to inhibit that from happening (this being a metaphor for payment, obviously). I'm not making excuses. I'm just trying to ascertain the origin of my projections. I'm hoping that my outlook and attitude changes once I change jobs, but in the interim, I seriously need to step it up. Steve goals need to be addressed because I don't need two crazy people in the house, and it's not his fault that I'm painted green at work.
Also last week, I started my classes!!! This is huge. HUGE! So I'm not going to lie, it was strange. Going back was just surreal. Going back to the place I did undergrad was even more surreal. So much so, I felt the need to tell the girl in the bookstore I had already graduated and was just taking a supplemental program. I am not an undergrad, thank you very much. Even though I probably look it. Hell, I probably look like I'm in high school. But everyone should know that appearance is not everything. Anyway, I drive to campus, which is weird in and of itself. I felt like a mega tool driving up and parking on Comm Ave. Like, no one drives. Well, the rich study abroad foreign students do. They drive their BMW's around campus, which is equally toolish. So when I drive up with my Saturn, I feel even more like a tool. WHATEVER. I am not an undergrad. I am not an undergrad. Or that's what I kept saying to myself to feel less intimidated as the actual undergrads are walking by. Yes, I am the 25 year old who's still intimidated by people younger than she or her age when they're in my vicinity in groups. Utterly ridiculous, I know.
So, I'm already a little nervous for my first class for the obvious reason of having been out of school for four years. Compound that with the fact that my class is in the Fuller Building. A building that NO ONE ever uses, and I myself had only ever been in once. I walk in and look at the floor plan, hoping to see the elusive "Lab #2" where my class is being held. Much to my dismay, it is not listed. Of course. After walking up and down the hall like three times, I finally use my powers of deduction to theorize where this "Lab #2" may be. BU likes to number its classrooms based on floor numbers. So maybe, just maybe, "Lab #2" is on the second floor. I ascend. I reach the second floor, and my elated hopes at seeing a live person who may know where I need to go are deflated as she looks at me like I have eight heads when I mention elusive "Lab #2." I meander some more. Thank God I had the presence of mind to allow myself time to get lost. I eventually happen upon a Computer Science PC Lab area, but my class is not listed anywhere on the boards indicating up-and-coming classes to be held there. I inquire with some more live people next door who suggest I ask the on-duty lab assistant, who assures me that my class is in fact there. I am not persuaded. Only at 5:55 when the instructor arrived was I assured I was where I was supposed to be. Glad to see BU hasn't changed in four years.
I knew going in, this was going to be my most difficult course. Graphic Design. Crap. Part of what works so famously about Steve and I is that he's the visual one. He's an architect, so he's visually conceptual. I'm the verbal one. I'm a writer. I love words. So the notion of Graphic Design is like Hell. I would honestly rather due mathematical equations than design shit on the computer. Class 1 was rough. Learning the interface of InDesign CS4. WTF is that?! And what's worse, the barely English speaking Asian man sits next to me and decides to ask me and the girl sitting on his other side every time he got lost or confused. I'm sorry buddy, but this class is like my nightmare, and I REALLY need to pay attention. I left the class still kinda excited, but a little deflated. Thank God it's only 7 weeks, and there's 1 down. Six more weeks . . .
Thursday I was revived. First of all, the class is in CAS. Oh CAS. We meet again. Second of all, as sad as I am that the food cart in the basement is no longer, there is an Einstein Brothers bagel shop there instead. Hello large fountain Diet Mountain Dew!!! Third of all, the class is TOTALLY my speed. It is "Business of Publishing." Lecture. Notetaking. Discussion. YES!!! Notes!!! I LOVE taking notes. OMG. I'm like a masochist. Notes make me feel better. Words. Joyousness. And I learned A LOT in my first class. Not only that, but I got really excited about my final project. The instructor gave us five options for our final projects. One of which being designing a business plan for a subscription-based magazine. Dude! I can so use this course as a vehicle for my future career choices. I can do my final project about the magazine I want to create! How perfect! I left class that night on cloud nine. This will be ok. I'll be ok. I will not let Graphic Design get me!
My only issue is my workout regiment. I hate having my days off be my class days. Since I obviously can't go to the gym on Tues and Thurs, I had to manipulate my workout schedule on the alternate 5 days, which works out fine for Mon and Wed. But Fri is tough. Friday was always Steve and my flub day. We're both tired and unmotivated on Fri. Needless to say, we didn't go to the gym Fri, so I had to double up Sat, and that meant I had three days off last week, not two, which doesn't bode well with me. I also have been thinking, what the hell am I going to do when I have stuff going on on weekends where I can't get to the gym? Obviously, I'll have to work around it. It's just going to be really tough. And I thought today about maybe doing combination days when I'm in school, but I hate combination days. I feel like I don't make enough progress. I'll just have to play it by ear I guess. And just try and be REALLY good at my eating to counter it. So much to do!!!
And lastly, as a random sum up, no, I haven't made any doctor's appointments yet. And no, I haven't been going to bed earlier. I know. I know. BUT I am making progress financially. I should have my credit card paid off by March (yay!) and the second one not long after, with the help of my tax return. Come on Cigna and send my proof of health insurance already!!! I hate having all these forms. Oh well, another week begins!
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
2010 Blog: Post Two
So today was rough. I woke up groggy and in extreme denial of morning (largely due to the fact that, surprise surprise!, I did not go to bed early last night. I can tell this is going to be the most difficult goal to attain). Not to mention, I was in the middle of a really weird dream involving a rather odd game of cards in an igloo-like structure that had me scouring plans and overloaded with plastic penguin figurines. I truly have no idea. Anyway, yes, the day started off sluggish. I found myself at the vending machine well before noon in order to acquire the joyously highly caffeinated Diet Mountain Dew can that was released to me in its glorious neon green splendor. Hello, Dew! On top of that, my inbox continually refilled itself with incoming messages as soon as I cleared out an old one. Quite frustrating if you ask me. Not to mention, my productivity this week has been sub par due to extraneous tasks overloading my "To Do" list inhibiting me from getting to my work. Oh, and additionally, apparently 2010 is turning into the year of the telephone. You see, I am a firm believer in e-mail. I LOVE e-mail. As a self-proclaimed rogue loner (due to my only child syndrome), I avoid direct human contact at all costs. This includes telephonic communication. I love the impersonal, non-immediate, non-confrontational aspect of e-mail. Well, this year, no one seems to be taking my hint of strictly e-mail communication because I have gotten more phone calls in the past week-and-a-half than I care to get in a year. And today, the phone call influx continued. There was more, but I'll spare the details and work toward getting to the point. So I was rather irritable by the time I got into my freezing cold vehicle for my homeward journey. Thank God the commute home was not bad, because I don't think I could have taken Boston traffic today. Though, my phone call in to Mix 104.1 that landed me on the radio was kinda fun. Anyway, I pull up in my driveway tired, ravenous, and still a little perturbed, grab my mail, and proceed up the walk. And there, on the stoop, resides this little package of joy taking the form of small white box. The funny thing is, I see the box and got mad excited. I knew I was expecting something, and of course it had my name on it, but for the life of me, I couldn't remember what it was! I scramble inside trying to control my bags (yes, everyone knows I'm the bag lady) and the mail while dodging the cat who's at my feet, rubbing my legs and nudging me with her head. I finally get everything out, take out the scissors, and slice the now fragile tape holding in the contents of the box. And there it was. The proverbial Heavenly "Ahhhhhhhhh!" in which the sun shines, breaking through the white, fluffy cumulus as the golden gates burst open welcoming all who wish to enter. My study materials from the ISSA have arrived!!! :) Materials include:
1 Fitness Text (all 772 pages of it. That's A LOT of fitness!)
1 Workbook
1 Studyguide
Course quizzes/practice examination
Faqs/Explanations
AND 1 Fitness Applications DVD
And what's funny is, when I started perusing the materials when I got home from the gym, I kinda saw it, ya know? Like wow, this could be reality. My career ideas could be A CAREER. Career. There's that funny word that always seems to apply to everyone else, but never to me. Do you ever find that? Aging is funny because as a child, you watch adults. You see their lives. You're taught all these things. You have all these hopes and dreams. You want to grow up and be a doctor, a lawyer, a teacher, a pilot. Have a career. Get married. As a girl, I always dreamed of getting married. Omg I'd dress up, I'd make up pretend fiances (they usually took the form of whatever actor I was crushing on at the time. I swear, at one point, Leo DiCaprio and I were MADLY and torridly in love. I digress.), we'd have this extravagant wedding and go to some exotic locale on our honeymoon (me and Leo, that is). And there I was, in my mind, the Marine Biologist, successful (at the time I had no idea Marine Biologists made shit, but that's not the point) and married to yet another successful person with a career. And there we were, this successful, careered, married couple. And that was life. But it wasn't real. But this box . . . the contents of this box represent the reality of that fantasy. Holy shit, it could really happen to me. I could really be that successful careerwoman. And the box's arrival today brings me one step closer. I guess that's the whole point of my post today. I'm one step closer with something. And I'm stoked.
And not to be remiss, but getting back to my sluggish day. So, yes, the arrival of the box was paramount. But I was still upset from my day and everything else. So much so, today was a struggle to go to the gym day. One where if Steve wasn't home, I don't know that I would have gone. Even when I got there, I was like, ugh, seriously? And it was just shoulder day for crying out loud! My easiest day! But I sat down on the shoulder press after my bike warm-up and started lifting. By the time I was done with that and moved onto the free weights, I was in my groove (it also helped that by that time, my heart rate was up, so I was much warmer than when I first arrived). And with the help of Jesse (McCartney), NKOTB, and the cast of Glee, I sorta rocked it. And then I got on the elliptical and banged it out (rather impressive considering it's post leg day and that's always rough on the cardio). Seventy minutes of elliptical later, I was feeling better. Endorphins, people. Go out there and release 'em! But I'm still going to bed late. Oh well. We'll try for tomorrow!
1 Fitness Text (all 772 pages of it. That's A LOT of fitness!)
1 Workbook
1 Studyguide
Course quizzes/practice examination
Faqs/Explanations
AND 1 Fitness Applications DVD
And what's funny is, when I started perusing the materials when I got home from the gym, I kinda saw it, ya know? Like wow, this could be reality. My career ideas could be A CAREER. Career. There's that funny word that always seems to apply to everyone else, but never to me. Do you ever find that? Aging is funny because as a child, you watch adults. You see their lives. You're taught all these things. You have all these hopes and dreams. You want to grow up and be a doctor, a lawyer, a teacher, a pilot. Have a career. Get married. As a girl, I always dreamed of getting married. Omg I'd dress up, I'd make up pretend fiances (they usually took the form of whatever actor I was crushing on at the time. I swear, at one point, Leo DiCaprio and I were MADLY and torridly in love. I digress.), we'd have this extravagant wedding and go to some exotic locale on our honeymoon (me and Leo, that is). And there I was, in my mind, the Marine Biologist, successful (at the time I had no idea Marine Biologists made shit, but that's not the point) and married to yet another successful person with a career. And there we were, this successful, careered, married couple. And that was life. But it wasn't real. But this box . . . the contents of this box represent the reality of that fantasy. Holy shit, it could really happen to me. I could really be that successful careerwoman. And the box's arrival today brings me one step closer. I guess that's the whole point of my post today. I'm one step closer with something. And I'm stoked.
And not to be remiss, but getting back to my sluggish day. So, yes, the arrival of the box was paramount. But I was still upset from my day and everything else. So much so, today was a struggle to go to the gym day. One where if Steve wasn't home, I don't know that I would have gone. Even when I got there, I was like, ugh, seriously? And it was just shoulder day for crying out loud! My easiest day! But I sat down on the shoulder press after my bike warm-up and started lifting. By the time I was done with that and moved onto the free weights, I was in my groove (it also helped that by that time, my heart rate was up, so I was much warmer than when I first arrived). And with the help of Jesse (McCartney), NKOTB, and the cast of Glee, I sorta rocked it. And then I got on the elliptical and banged it out (rather impressive considering it's post leg day and that's always rough on the cardio). Seventy minutes of elliptical later, I was feeling better. Endorphins, people. Go out there and release 'em! But I'm still going to bed late. Oh well. We'll try for tomorrow!
Sunday, January 10, 2010
2010 Blog: Day one
This year marks quite a few benchmarks: a new decade for this millenium, a chance for people to leave the last decade behind and venture forward with new, hopefully better opportunities. For me, this year marks the transition into the next phase of my life. I will turn 26 (I've decided this is much worse than 25), the age that's on the downward slope of the mid-20s hill. The first of my friends got engaged, so this year will be full of wedding planning. Wow. My friends and I are now at marrying age. Inconceivable. Along those lines, my "eventual" wedding, that not so long ago was 4+ years off, is now down to 3. Which means, I seriously need to get busy. Get busy working toward my career. Get busy paying off my debt and saving toward the important events in my life. Get busy taking care of me so I actually have a life to work toward. Oh the pressure! With those events in mind, I have devised an outline to follow as I embark on my voyage deeper into my own adventure known as adulthood. Ergo:
1. Health:
a. Get thee to the surgery:
1a. Dentist
2a. Regular Physician
3a. Eye Doctor
b. Physical Fitness:
1b. Achieve maximum fitness level, i.e. get down to goal Body Fat Percentage (BFP): 14%
2b. Adopt "Clean Eating" as a lifestyle, not just when I'm home
3b. GO TO BED EARLIER!!! (As I write this, I am currently not succeeding as it is 11:00 PM, and I should have been in bed 30 minutes ago. Oh well, tomorrow is another day.)
2. Career:
a. Complete Publishing Course
b. Begin studying for Personal Training Certification (the goal this year is not necessarily to achieve full certification. If it is feasible, excellent. If not, that's fine. I just want to get the ball rolling.)
c. Ascertain definitive career path and secure position in that field.
3. Finances
a. PAY OFF CREDIT CARDS!
b. Establish savings for:
1b. Annual Vacation Funding
2b. Wedding
4. Relationship.
a. Try to be more understanding and less argumentative
b. Try to be more communicative
c. Make sure Steve knows I love him every day through actions, not words.
There it is. 2010. To date I have enrolled in the Publishing program and ordered my Personal Training (PT)study materials. Publishing classes start next Tuesday, and I should receive the PT materials this week. It's not much, but it's a start. Let's see what tomorrow brings . . .
1. Health:
a. Get thee to the surgery:
1a. Dentist
2a. Regular Physician
3a. Eye Doctor
b. Physical Fitness:
1b. Achieve maximum fitness level, i.e. get down to goal Body Fat Percentage (BFP): 14%
2b. Adopt "Clean Eating" as a lifestyle, not just when I'm home
3b. GO TO BED EARLIER!!! (As I write this, I am currently not succeeding as it is 11:00 PM, and I should have been in bed 30 minutes ago. Oh well, tomorrow is another day.)
2. Career:
a. Complete Publishing Course
b. Begin studying for Personal Training Certification (the goal this year is not necessarily to achieve full certification. If it is feasible, excellent. If not, that's fine. I just want to get the ball rolling.)
c. Ascertain definitive career path and secure position in that field.
3. Finances
a. PAY OFF CREDIT CARDS!
b. Establish savings for:
1b. Annual Vacation Funding
2b. Wedding
4. Relationship.
a. Try to be more understanding and less argumentative
b. Try to be more communicative
c. Make sure Steve knows I love him every day through actions, not words.
There it is. 2010. To date I have enrolled in the Publishing program and ordered my Personal Training (PT)study materials. Publishing classes start next Tuesday, and I should receive the PT materials this week. It's not much, but it's a start. Let's see what tomorrow brings . . .
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