Well, I got my job.
I applied for the senior design position open at Metro Pulse, which is a local alternative weekly in Knoxville. It was bought by Scripps last summer, but the pub has maintained its independent identity, and it seems Scripps is keen to keep it that way. Which is awesome for me. I loved designing the entertainment tab for The Roanoke Times, and this will be an excellent continuation of that experience.
I'll be working for the pub's art director, who's currently the sole design force for editorial content. I'll put together some of the more basic pages, but I'll also have a chance to work with features and maybe even toss around ideas for cover layouts.
A lot of what I'm looking forward to is being exposed to the design sensibilities at Metro Pulse. The art director has done some really creative work over the last several months, and I'm eager to take advantage of his knowledge.
One day, I'm gonna be an art director. What better way to get to than point than work in a place where you admire the work being done?
I'll start in two weeks, after my drug test and other orientation stuffs (Metro Pulse may be independent, but Scripps sure is corporate).
Giving my notice at my current job wasn't as tense as I thought it might be. My co-workers had nice things to say, and I'll spend the next two weeks in a pleasant environment.
All in all, it worked out just fine.
If one must need something to get them through the day, then one *must* watch a tiny puppy chewing on a big cat.
So, I *think* this is fairly typical: I've always found myself pretty attractive. When I was in high school I'd spend twenty minutes studying my face in the mirror, and I was pretty much all about it. Even at 50 pounds heavier.
And for the years that followed, my friends teased me about catching my reflection. But dang, I was cute!
The point is: I realized just in the last few days that I don't really interest myself anymore. I don't stare at myself in the mirror. I don't pay extra attention when I catch my reflection. And while this may be a sign of maturity, it actually feels like a step backward.
The whole thing about being attracted to my reflection was that I *felt* attractive. And I don't anymore. Which is a bit odd, considering that after a lifetime of feeling overweight I finally got in shape.
Now, the anti-exercise/anti-calorie-counter in me would like to shout "Aha! I should have stayed chubby! I'd be happier." That is, of course, ridiculous. I was unhappy overweight. I didn't like how I felt in my clothes. I didn't like grabbing hold of my stomach in two hands.
But I do wonder if there is possibly any hormonal flux in the wake of losing weight. Or maybe it's just the general dissatisfaction I've had in my current job that managed to pervade other parts of my life.
Whatever it is, it needs to stop. I liked feeling attractive. It was fun! So I'm gonna play with my hairstyle. I bought a full-length mirror (a must I've been doing without: Girl's gotta know what she looks like before she leaves the house!). Maybe I'll even play with makeup?! Anything to kind of jostle myself back to the slendiforousness of my own reflection.
... of something good.
I have a few of firsts coming:
* The culmination of my first professional disappointment.
* The start of a new job that seems a little too good to be true.
* Working downtown, with a window looking out over main street.
When I started at the office I'm about to leave, I had just moved to Knoxville and away from Roanoke, where I had long been an editor and designer for that town's newspaper. I'd gotten bored and was convinced that I really wanted to focus on design, but outside of journalism. Our move was the perfect opportunity to jump to a new industry, so I did just that.
I took up at a small business graphics company that did at least as many production (read: monkey-at-typewriter) jobs as creative ones. Great! I know monkey! And I wanted to explore my creativity.
My first mistake was to take the job at a lower salary than I thought I deserved. I was new to the industry, but I'm skilled and a good worker. I wrote off the pay issue as one mistake I won't be making again.
Unfortunately, the working environment ended up being a surprise. My co-workers are good people, but I felt like the square peg surrounded by round holes. Eventually, I started withdrawing. I still did my work, I still socialized. But I didn't laugh; I didn't start as many conversations.
And I didn't realize just how withdrawn I'd become until I interviewed for the job I'm about to take (pending salary negotiations). When I sat down with my prospective bossees, I made jokes. I was goofy. I felt smart. I was completely engaged. I left the interview realizing how untrue that was of my experiences at my current job, and I knew for sure (if I hadn't already been convinced) that I needed to find myself a new environment.
I'm pleased to say that my interview went well (I won't spill all the beans, but I'll be headed back to journalism design). Assuming these last details fall into place, I'll be starting in two weeks.
At which point I'll post an update from my window, overlooking main street.
Well, if I had to tell you exactly where this idea came from, I couldn't. But it turns out I want to train to be a runner.
I *can* say that my friend, Melizza, has been training for a marathon for the past several months. She'll be racing next month, and I've been impressed every step of the way.
I can also say that in some of my best dreams at night, I'm running and feel completely unfettered. I can nearly fly in those dreams.
Like many things in my life, I've written off running as one of those things that I just can't/don't want to/will never do. Well, I was convinced I was a word person until I started doing design work a handful of years ago. I was also sure that I just liked food too much to lose any substantial amount of weight. That was 6 dress sizes ago.
And as for why running: Maybe partly because I want to convince myself that I have convinced myself *wrong* about a lot of things. If I can be a runner, I can do anything. And the solitude of running really appeals to me. Running 10 miles and sharing that time only with myself? I would love it (if I don't end up hating it).
Really, too, I need to find things that are mine. And I need to set goals that I have to work hard for. Things that, in ten months, I can look back and feel a real sense of accomplishment. I'm a tough cookie, a good worker, a clever girl, but I don't push my own limits.
Time to start.
Patrick and I went out to dinner with friends he has made through work, and we *ate*. Some soft pretzel with beer cheese, steak, taters, mac and cheese, cheesecake.
I felt vaguely like I'd overdone it, but worrying about that is so overdone. So I overcame the overdoneness.
And what should I find this morning but that I shot up at 5 in the morning ready for the gym? It may have been late-acting effects from the coffee I had after dinner. Or that I've established a fulfilling ritual for myself. Or a reaction to that vague feeling over overdoing dinner.
In any case, I was almost surprised to find myself walking up the stairs from the gym locker to my treadmill of choice. I did my 45 minutes and started my day.
AND it's Friday. Friday is usually my day off.
A change, it is a'comin'.
The last couple of days I've felt exceptionally good. I've gotten to the gym in the mornings for a 45-minute surge on the treadmill, followed by a cup of coffee brewed special by Patrick.
I haven't, however, been keeping good track of my activities and food. I know that I've kept very close to the right calorie intake to maintain my weight, but I've been lax. And in a very satisfying way.
Maybe it's that the exercise has spiked my adrenaline; or upped my metabalism; or overall just made me feel better about myself. Whatever it is, this is the first time in a long time that I've felt so comfortable while *not* keeping close tabs on my food.
When I've let loose before I've felt, "Oh, I'm going overboard"; or some vague anxiety that I'll feel bad about myself for eating too much. But letting loose these days isn't jumping into a box of crackers or eating two bowls of cereal after dinner. More like munching on something while I cook dinner. More like, honestly, satisfying my body and soul.
Sound silly? A little. But it doesn't feel silly.
I have envied people who can eat what they want without feeling all messed up about it. It's actually starting to seem like I might become one of those people.
What a load off. And what a nice relationship to have with food, and myself.
Patrick and I have tossed around a couple of ideas for a honeymoon -- maybe a tour of the great Northwest, or two weeks on the beaches of Costa Rica.
But we long ago thought about (brief aside: Very long ago. Like, on our first tour of the Blue Ridge Parkway! Patrick actually asked me what kind of honeymoon I'd like. I tried to hide my giddy excitement and told him ...) a trip to Europe. Spending time seeing the countryside and exploring cities.
For some reason today, a bike tour crossed my mind, so I did some searching and almost immediately came across this little gem. Knowing absolutely nothing about touring Europe (Italy!) by bike, I'm not sure how the prices or experiences compare. But this certainly gives me something to think about. And I'm daydreaming already. So that's a good sign.
I've requested the detailed itinerary for this trip. I thought six days by bike, then maybe a few more doing whatever the heck we want in whatever Italian villa we find ourselves in.
Patrick and I are getting married! Anyone's who anyone knows that by now, but what they may not know is that I have never been a girl to daydream about my wedding day (not even the dress!). Now that it's impending, I'm elated, but I don't have that built-in motivation to get everything in order the way most women *seem* to.
This may very well be a huge myth about women and weddings -- do the great majority of us really want to make the day as extravagant as our budgets allow? Do we really want to plan 12 months for a single day, without necessarily giving too much thought to the years that will follow?
For my part, I'm more excited about the years that follow. If we could be Mr. and Mrs. this instant, I'd be happier than a cow chewing cud. That day'll come soon enough (we're thinking early October, to catch the changing leaves and crisp, cool air), so in the meantime I'm learning to soak up the little things I get joy from planning for a wedding.
Like the dress. It turns out the dress was immediately something I could get excited about, even though I'd given so little thought to it before Patrick asked (so sweetly) if I'd marry him.
I was struck with the color blue. That I wanted my dress to be blue. I had in my mind a jewel-toned cocktail dress, something unique. I found some promising things on JCrew, but then I got a bug to check out Etsy. About three pages into my search, I saw one that I just knew would be it. (Patrick, if you're reading this, don't click the link!)
The woman who made it has been exceptional (I've bought the dress, but if it doesn't fit properly she'll make me a new one). And I love knowing how she made it: From a 1930s slip, embellished with fabric that belonged to her grandmother. And the ribbon is blue!
Once I find out if the dress fits, I'm going to get the shoes (in gold).
This is a small step in wedding planning. There's loads left to figure out:
* Where will we have it?
* What will the invitations looks like?
* How will the party be styled?
* Colors?
* Food?
* Drink?
* Music?
But if the clothes make the man, maybe the dress can make the wedding.
Well, for the second week in a row of entering my food and exercise data, I find the hardest part is keeping it going through the weekend (starting Friday).
Maybe it's because weekends are my fun time. I'm so good about staying on top of my Weight Watchers points during the week, and that's because I know I'm going to feel a breath of fresh air during the weekend, when I can let loose and stop paying as much attention.
So to ask me to continue to pay attention? I must have some high expectations of myself. Likely, it's a simple matter of practice, so I'll write these first two weeks off as just that ... warm up rounds.
As far as moods go, I was in pretty good spirits all weekend. Maybe a few dips, but nothing significant. I was slightly mopey Saturday at Patrick's bike race, when I thought maybe he considered me more his assistant than his cheerleader. But then I got over it. (I'm totally not his assistant; and he appreciates the little ways I help anyway.)
*****
As an aside, I do a lot of that: A lot of projecting my own feelings of self-doubt onto him. Like, if I'm feeling like I don't look good one day, I'll say something stupid like "You think I'm ugly, don't you?" And I say it in just a joke-y enough way for it to sound as stupid as it is, but somewhere in my saying it, I believe it. That *he's* the one who thinks I don't look good, not me. Tricks of the mind. Well, fool me once ...
*****
I did start getting sick-ish (monster fever blister. Love it). And today hasn't been so hot. I scarfed my lunch food by about 10 this morning. I'm devouring a Panera bread bowl (tomato soup!) as we speak. Sick days don't count. Maybe I'll have to make room for an asterisk on my Excel sheet, to denote "I was sick. Lay off."
