|
| |||||||
| Most recent days at top, though updates over the course of the day are at the bottom of
each day. Oh, you know how it works. Names have been changed. If you're convinced something is a big mean public attack on you, that says more about you than me.
| |||||||
Thursday, 4 February 2010 (windswept and downtrodden) 11:54am Marta and I had dinner at Tazaki Sushi last night, then came home and started watching Breaking Bad, which is probably my favorite of the currently running hourlong shows I watch (Lost, Caprica and Mad Men). I got up this morning at five to go to spin class—Cally's back, which I almost have mixed feelings about, since I was beginning to like her substitute quite a lot—and returned a little after seven, joining the still-sleeping Marta in bed. I'm so glad this is working out, that she's okay with me leaving and coming back in the morning. It's been an issue in the past. In 2000, Maddy had freaked the fuck out the first few times I tried to go to the gym in the morning, which of course was a symptom of the larger problem of her not wanting me to leave the house at all. I was finally able to start going on a regular basis after driving her to work in 2002, though my attempts to occasionally go in the evening were met with resistance. A few years later with Vash, her gym schedule cut somewhat heavily into our time together: she'd come over at eight or nine in the evening, want to go straight to bed, and then be out of the house again by half past five to be at her six o'clock spin class. Sometimes I'd get up too and she'd drop me off at work on the way to her gym, but either way, we had almost no quality time together. Which was probably impossible toward the end. In any event, as I say, I'm glad that Marta and I have found a balance. It helps that we both like being together, and also respect what's important to the other person. That's love, is what that is. (I loved Maddy and Vash, but, well, sometimes love is not enough.) At Mocha 101 now. My Agent is going over the latest draft of Bottomfeeder, so I'm going to turn my attentions back to Landing on Water. The Monster. | ||
 | ||
Wednesday, 3 February 2010 (rig delayer) 2:10pm I got to sit with Jim behind the soundboard last night at The Castro while Joel Hodgson and Trace Beaulieu and the other Cinematic Titantic riffed on a movie. At one point when Jim has to go outside for a few minutes, he left me in charge of the soundboard. Basically the instruction he gave me was to reset the board if there was a "feedback incident," and thankfully I didn't have to do anything at all, but still I for a few minutes I was supervising the sound for a modern incarnation of Mystery Science Theater 3000, my most favoritest show ever (and obviously the primary influence for my own Bad Movie Night). It was one of those moments where I just couldn't be more thrilled with the life I'm living, and the fantastic opportunities it presents. I wouldn't trade lives with anyone. My mood was at risk of dropping in a big way this afternoon, since I almost had to go to the San Francisco General Hospital Pharmacy. Which is normally bad enough, but I was going to have to cut my way through red tape, after standing in line for an hour and with cranky, unpleasant people all around. So after my whole pharmacy snafu in December, they ostensibly gave me a three month supply of both the spironolactone and estraidol. Except that they didn't—though they gave me plenty of the estradiol, the spironolactone just ran out. What complicates matters is that the label on the bottom says it contains the correct amount (one hundred and eighty pills, which, quite frankly, wouldn't have even fit in the smallish bottle), and when I called in the refill to the Pharmacy, they said that I couldn't get a refill because they'd given me three months worth. I tried to explain what happened, and they somewhat grudgingly told me to bring the bottle in. And I was prepared to do that very thing when I realized that I should go to Lyon-Martin instead and explain to them what happened, let them call the Pharmacy and deal with it. Besides, I wouldn't have to wait in a long line, and I'd even get to talk with a native English speaker, which makes a big difference. There was also a greater chance that they'd believe me, that they wouldn't think I'm running a scam. Anyway, I went to Lyon-Martin and talked to the receptionist who talked to my doctor who said she believed me (whew!) and that they'd call the Pharmacy to get it taken care of. Yay. That was close. Marta's coming over in a little while, because it's Wednesday and that's what we do. | ||
| ||
Tuesday, 2 February 2010 (taking my business elsewhere) 1:37pm Made it to Damiel's abs class yesterday morning, and then spin class this morning. It's been the substitute for the last few classes, but she said today's her last day, so presumably Cally will be back on Thursday. Here's to hoping. I feel like my body's not reacting to the exercise as quickly as it should—I still can't fit back into the jeans I bought this past summer. Just gotta keep at it. There's just no way I can work out this hard for an hour a day five days a week without it actually having an effect. Faith and persistence. It's the only way anything ever gets done. making miracles is hard workTonight, much to my surprise, I'm going to see Cinematic Titanic Live at SF Sketchfest. I'd already decided not to, since I've seen them before and though I'm more comfortable than I was before I started this job, money is still tight. (Especially since I splurged on Richard Thompson tickets, and Marta and I are going to Los Angeles next week.) As it turns out, Jim from The Dark Room is working the sound for the Cinematic Titanic show even though it's at The Castro, and he offered me his plus one. So, yay. | ||
| ||
Monday, 1 February 2010 (the only skew) 10:41pm Got an unexpected bonus evening with Marta tonight when she invited me over for dinner, and then joined me to watch Caprica at Pete and Sarah's house. I had to drop her off back at her place afterward, but still, I can't complain. | ||
| ||
