'Everything You Think You Know is Wrong'

So. Hubs sent me this AMAZING book for Christmas, “The Book of General Ignorance.” It was put together by some of the writers for Q.I. and Not the Nine O’Clock News. I am only about 20 pages into it but spent the entire day cracking up and paraphrasing to my work cohorts, who were curious as to why I kept snickering in the corner. If you’re familiar with those shows, you can imagine the quick- and dry-witted humor that goes into the explanations, but I don’t have time to plagiarize pages on end. So here is a brief synopsis of my favorites so far.

 

-Whiskey was actually invented in Ancient China

-Chicken Tikka Masala is a British dish, not Indian, and has no standardized recipie

-Croatia means ‘tie land’ from Latin cravat, from Croatian hravat

-Marco Polo was a big liar, from Croatia [hey!] and also loosely translates to ‘Mark Chicken’ [lol]

-Rickshaws were invented by an American Missionary named Jon Scobie to drive his invalid wife down the streets in Japan [this one stood out to me because I grew up with a Great Dane named Scobie, but he was named after the astronaut. Who is ironically from Auburn, WA; which is only a hop skip and jump from where I live!]

-We can technically see 4 galaxies from earth, but only 2 at a time [2 per hemisphere]

-Ursus Arctos is not polar bear, but actually the brown bear, and translates via latin and greek respectively, into ‘bear bear’. The Arctic region is named for the bear, not the other way around; since Ursa Major points to the north, it is the ‘Land of the Bear’

-Also, bears are most closely related to dogs

-Chameleons are deaf! And do not change color for their surroundings, but instead due to their emotions, ie, fear.

-Male mosquitoes become “sexually enticed” by the note of a B-natural tuning fork

-Golfish have a memory of at least three months

-Female mosquitoes still kill one person every twelve seconds

-A blue whale’s esophagus is only about the size of a grapefruit. But its tongue weighs more than an elephant, and its heart is the size of a small sedan.

-The largest egg-to-bird ratio is the spotted kiwi, whose egg is 26% of its own weight; equivalent to a human woman birthing a six-year-old child o.O

-Antarctica is actually the world’s driest desert.

Camels & Stella...

…do not a Christmas make.

Sorry for lack of updates as of late. Up until today things have been boring-bordering-on-depressing. Like the worst rendition of Groundhog’s Day you could imagine [at least Bill Murray had snow and beer and a piano]. Well, today was another high-volume mail day, which equals lots of smiles. My yarn came in, and also my supplements, and my hipster tee shirt which I can’t wait to wear. Also, we’ll be hitting some sand soon, so hopefully there is enough wifi to support me uploading some pics. That’s fairly necessary, because I’ve got more squares coming and also [if I have the time, which I probably won’t] a tutorial on how to crochet a treble clef. Yup, that’s right. Made one from scratch today. Still have some tweaking to do on the pattern, but for all intents and purposes, I made it!

In other news, hubs managed to score Borderlands 2 for half price on a Black Friday deal, and that got to my grubby lil mitts last week. I don’t have as much time to play—or nearly as much fun doing so—as I would at home, but so far I’ve made it to a level 14 siren all by my own self! It’s finally got me off the Civ 5 kick I was on, although that’s still pretty fun too. Now the only thing left in the mail is the 3 tb hard drive hubs has prepared. Some people are giving out giftbags and such to coworkers… that 3 tb will be my gift to my coworkers. I even took requests.

So, that’s about all going on in this neck of the woods… aside from getting insanely stir crazy and bummed out.

Off the Wagon

Well, I fell back off the workout-wagon. I’ve still been going to the gym, but closer to every other day, or every two or three days, rather than every single day. And of course, the rebellious soul that I am, gave up on dieting in favor of eating everything within sight. It’s kind of shocking how little it takes to poof me back up again. Like, quite depressing. I am afraid to weigh or measure and see what kind of damage I’ve done in a mere four weeks.

 

BUT. Never fear, supplements are near! I finally gave in to the stereotypes of my department and placed an order with BodyBuilding. I ordered a few pounds of low-carb protein shake mix, a cardio-geared pre-workout, a Cortisol blocker [the hormone that causes you to feel stress, which can make losing weight harder, regardless of your best efforts] and ooh, is that buy one get one free Hydroxycut Elite? Why yes, yes it is. I think I snuck one more supplement in there too, but I can’t quite remember what it is at the moment. I want to say it’s a CLA/7-Keto blend, which, honestly I can’t remember what that’s supposed to do, but whatever. If I can’t bring myself to be a hippy-dippy gym rat diet freak, I guess I’ll rely on a cornucopia of uh, “supplements.” If nothing else, dropping all that cash will guilt me into working out. And hey, you gotta find whatever motivation works for you. Unfortunately, there’s not much out there that does work for me.  One of my problems is the “cardio only“ bug. I hate weights. I have a yoga mat with me, I just never take it down to work out. And getting down on the floor at this point is less than ideal [unless you want to end up with bloody hamburger meat for hands]. So, I tend to avoid doing any sort of strength training, which I know is bad. Shame on me. Just wish I had a better idea of how to fix it. I do tons of research and list-making and whatnot, and then, of course, what happens? Oh you know, the yuuuuzzz…. I just never follow through.

 

I think I slept more hours than I was awake today. And I think the trend will continue for at least one more day. I’m almost concerned, except for the fact that being asleep is so much easier than being around anyone out here. Of course, all this sleeping certainly has it’s downfalls, best laid plans of mice and men go unheeded. With a rotating schedule like we have, I can’t get into a regular flow of life, which I most certainly blame for my inability to work out consistently.

 

In semi-related news—real actual news this time—hubs sent me an article paraphrasing a study from “the Cell Press journal Neuron,” where research scientist John Salamone claims that although dopamine is not necessarily related to pleasure, it is strongly linked to depression. Think, the low-grade, give-no-shits kind of depression that probably lies closer to apathy on the grey-scale. [pun somewhat intended] Not to bore you all to death with fun sciency stuff, or get too personal, but I wanted to share this very interesting chunk:

 

"Often, depressed people say they don't want to go out with their friends," says Salamone. But it's not that they don't experience pleasure, he says—if their friends were around, many depressed people could have fun.

        "Low levels of dopamine make people and other animals less likely to work for things, so it has more to do with motivation and cost/benefit analyses than pleasure itself," he explains.

 

Me to a T. Always taking the easy way out and wondering why I’m not happy.

Anyways. Enough of that business.

 

Finished 1 and 2/3rds cat beds for Hubs’ mom. Refining the technique every time. Soon I’ll be pro at kitty beds. I’ll post pics from Dubai. I also ordered a killer tee from Threadless, and a butt-load of yarn from Joanne’s, including the pretty pretty stuff I’ll be using to make an ocean waves scarf for my mermaid friend. Hubs also ordered me some skin-care stuff [don’t worry, I picked it out first], so hopefully when I get home I’ll still get carded for buying beer—you know, instead of looking my age, a whole not-quite-30. It may seem materialistic, but you know, mail is like the only thing we have to look forward to right now.

Not-so Gracefully Juggling Flaming Chainsaws, Ever-Advancing Towards the Impending Apocalypse

Greetings blogees. If I am a blogger, I assume you to be bloggees. Apologies for the title, I felt the need to fit as many words in there as I could. So. It sure has been a while, and for that I apologize. The internet is terrible in Bahrain, particularly when you plop down an extra 3-5k Americans who need to update their iTunes and Skype their kids and whatnot assorted things we do. Another downfall—and I didn’t know this last time I was there, oops—taking photos is greatly frowned upon. So sadly, no fantastical pictures to report. Perhaps on my next stop I can make up for it. I did, however, get a chance to check out my buddy Joe’s blog, “Letters to my Children,” and I must say he is a dear, sweet, genius. Go read.  

 

Well, well, well. What else. I picked up a few new albums I aim to review here. Finding time to write—much less listen to music in depth—is always a challenge. However, I did start attending a music theory & appreciation class that started. Once a week a few of us take over a spare room to chat about music and what not. I think it’s going to be pretty awesome. I intended to write about that after the past couple meetings, but for some reason time has been very hard to come by lately. And I’m not even spending all of it in the gym like I used to! There’s so much I wanted to talk about; I’m going to have to get back in the habit of writing more regularly. Or at least, keeping a list to write about. You all know how I love lists…

 

ADD moment: Did you know, coffee is the second most traded commodity on earth, only behind oil?! If you have never checked out fellow Seattleite The Oatmeal, please do so now. I’ll wait. [toe tapping, whistling]

 

It's crazy how much stuff there is in life; I mean, there's so much to do and seems like never enough time... I can't prioritize worth shit. I'm working on an "extra credit" math class to get caught up for my next degree, kitty beds for hubs’ mom’s kitties, squares for the super-blanket, upcoming insane scarf for my favorite mermaid, video games [like a billion different ones tugging me in each direction], so many novels to read, music [cant even begin to start on that huge topic!], advancement to study for, qualifications for work, working out [falling behind there], maintaining a working relationship [not to mention keeping in touch with family and friends too, it takes me soooo long to even do something as simple as mail out postcards!] I mean, that's pretty tiring just to type out! I guess humans just by nature end up being good at juggling.

 

 

Ideas to Remember and Ponder

-SP heart throw [red & black? Or black and white?]

-Siamese Dream album cover, tapestry style squares

-or, SP discography tapestry style squares for quilt

-and of course, an epic Civ quilt

 <<-- I happen to like this version the best I think.

That is… if my hands hold up. I went to medical the other day—by the way—and they confirmed ‘entry level’ carpal tunnels. So far, right hand only. They gave me a brace and some motrin and told me to follow up in a couple weeks. I forgot to pick up the motrin, which I assume is for inflammation, but the brace is not working so well. Now, instead of my outside two fingers falling asleep whenever I do something hand-intensive, my thumb is numb most of the time, and the back of my hand is numb on minor movement and light palpitation. Woohoo [sarcasm]. They’re closed while we hang out in Bahrain, but I’ll go back in a few days and let them know. Obviously… can still type.

Actual Conversation...

Boss: “I’m moving your stuff, ass. ‘Cuz you know, that’s your new name.”

Me: “ok…”

Boss: “You know, cuz you’re 75% ass.”

 

[general and hysterical laughter from all three of us in the room]

 

Me: “Awwww, that means I’m only 25% person…”

 

[PS. In case you missed the joke, it’s funny because it’s true.]

 

Third Time's a Charm!!

So, I was supposed to get weighed in this week.

On Tuesday, they told me I would have to come back because my skin was too red… from my workout wrap thing. I took it off the required half hour before, but I guess I broke out. Oops, my bad.

So I was supposed to go back today, this morning, but no one gave me an exact time. So turns out, by the time I got there, everyone had already left. So that’s strike two.

By this time I’m fairly freaking out and continuing to diet ferociously, which sucks. SO FINALLY. I went back this evening, and PASSED!

Final verdict:

63.5” tall

13.5” neck

28” waist [woohoo!]

42.5” hips

For a body fat percentage of 32%!!!...which is borderline, but PASSable. So, I pass. I win. I get promoted. And I get to ease up on the diet a little and be normal but still work out all the time. Then by the time I get home, I might actually be able to make it on weight alone! :D

Damn my insufferable good Rhythm !

I am old enough to remember that song “The Rhythm is Gonna Get You,” by Gloria Estefan. More like, I spend all my time trying to get the rhythm.

I can’t dance. Like, I can’t ‘get down,’ or ‘boogie’ or any of that good drunk stuff—in heels or without. I can cha-cha, waltz, and salsa passably because of acting class. I can line dance if you give me earplugs, and I can zumba all day long—with half of my body at a time. I’m not quite sure where this rhythm came from, but I know one of my brothers is pretty damn good at drums, and my dad was in marching band back in the day… before he discovered football, I think. But I play bass, and the running joke is dammit, I can count to 8, and I’m pretty good at it, and so far that’s always been good enough. Sure, sometimes it’s more like “one, two, doo-de-doo, dun dun dun, and a-seven-and-eight,” but… well that’s how bassists count sometimes, okay?!

So. Science has totally proven that the music you listen to can affect your workout. If you listen to the right stuff, you get pumped. Like, this has been studied. What they can’t quite put their finger on, however, is what ‘good’ workout music is. I can’t exactly explain it either. But I can say this: When I have a bad music day on the ipod, I have a bad workout day at the gym. I don’t know why, but if I can’t manage to synch myself up to the beat, it throws me off completely. If I can’t keep up with a song because I’m tired, it ruins the moment. So I spend at least 1/3 of my workout trying to find the right song for the moment, which is unfortunate. I have a great fantasy idea of how to fix this, but I would have to build an elliptical from scratch and reprogram it entirely… and no I’m not going to explain myself until I get a patent on the idea. Anyways, it’s a cool idea.

Anyways, I had a bummer workout today [I was pretty beat] but, I have been slowly coming to the conclusion that the following bands are [almost] always safe bets for gym time:

#Mindless Self Indulgence

#Chevelle

#Deftones

#the Eels

#Electric Six

The following bands are extremely hit or miss:

#Smashing Pumpkins

#Nine Inch Nails

#Sick Puppies

#Tool

#A Perfect Circle

#Prodigy

There’s still over 1000 songs in my ‘test’ playlist. I’m slogging through them one run at a time… one of these days I’ll have a solid gym playlist. I can’t wait to post it. I don’t have my info with me, but I also can think of bands that seem like they’d be good for the gym, but surprisingly are somehow not. More on that later.

This is why I suck at the military:

Me, walking to watch… I notice the area ahead is taped off. I’m hoping it’s after the little bend in the hallway so I can cut around instead of having to double back, go downstairs, and then go upstairs, just to get to my shop for some coffee before watch.

 

Girl: Sorry, secured, you’ll have to go around.

Me: Aw, maaannnnn…. Hey, why do you guys do this [stripping & waxing the floor—like the dirtiest floor ever], like, every week?

Girl: [points at guy]

Guy: uhh, we have to.

Me: But, why?

Guy: it’s just our orders… this is the first time we’ve done it this week.

Me: this week. But it’s like every week. Why?

Guy: I dunno, it’s our chief.

Me: well, what’s his deal?

Guy: He’s a chief, I’m a third class… I dunno. He likes to see his face in the floor.

Me: Well, he knows it’s pointless, right?

Guy: …

Me: I mean, it doesn’t even matter…

Guy: …

Me: [leaves, cursing, muttering why?]

 

I think my beef is this: they are the only people who do it that often. It always ruins my effin’ night. And they don’t do it on the other side… you know why? Because they have this lovely rubber matting put down, and that keeps the floor from getting dirty. It’s brilliant. Now why can’t they do that on MY side??

Run the Gulf

It was brought to my attention that I haven’t written in a while… oops, my bad.

Things are getting really Groundhog Day-y out here, every day revolving around working out and dieting, with a break for shower, and sitting on watch not doing much of anything useful. I haven’t had a lot of time or energy to put into anything even remotely interesting. Except once a week I work with the mail department and absolutely love it. And they love me back. However, my feet and my lower back do not participate in the love-fest.  

So anyways, Run the Gulf is a program put on by our morale department. The Persian Gulf, where we are currently annoying other countries, is 615 miles across. Okay, okay, 618 to be exact, but what is it they say? “Good Enough for Government Work”? Yeah, that. ANY-ways, point being, it’s something they do on deployments. Track your mileage, make the goal, get a free teeshirt and I dunno, a pat on the back or an atta-girl or something.

I was already methodically tracking every step I take on an exercise machine, because I tend to be obsessive about statistics. For example, I have already run about 120 miles since we left WA. Considering we’ve been gone for three months, I’ve really been slacking. The RTG program only started about a week ago, and at my current pace—if my memory serves, which it may not—I average about five miles a day. At that rate, it will take about 120 days [three months] to meet this goal of 615 miles across the metaphorical gulf. It’s a good thing they gave us the rest of deployment to run!

Some of you may be really confused right now. I hate running. Loathe. Despise. Someone give me a thesaurus, I’m not done expressing emotion. But you know what, I gotta keep it up. I have to keep going. So, at least this gives me 1) a clear and concise goal with a tangible reward at a concrete end; as well as 2) a very visual mental image to encourage me. I’ve already noticed an improvement… like the day I totaled over 8 miles. Guys, EIGHT MILES. In ONE DAY. For NO REASON. What is happening to me?? There’s no zombies behind me, nor chocolate cake or beer in front of me… what reason do I have to run? Well… just to say I did, I suppose. It’ll make a good story one day, right?

Words I wish I had written

“Pop music does not grow and mature alongside you. The pop stars of the 90s who sang songs about chasing girls and falling in love for the first time when you were chasing girls and falling in love for the first time aren't going to suddenly start singing songs about how your liberal arts degree was worthless and it's weird that all of your friends are getting married just because you're 26 and going through that now. The Backstreet Boys will never become The Backstreet Men. All you can do is cling to your favorite artists and pray they never stop releasing new music. Also stay away from pop radio. It's terrifying out there.”

This is the kind of thing I think about. This is the kind of thing I wish I’d thought to say. This is the kind of thing that I wish had MY name on it, instead of Daniel O'Brien’s. Then people would discuss how witty and apt my observations are, and someone somewhere on the internet would read what I had written and laugh. This is, perhaps, why I was so determined to get my bullshit BA in English. Because I want to be some kind of she-Klosterman. And now… sigh. I simply think these thoughts to myself and sometimes have similar debates with Hubs, which never end well, since he and I think so differently about music and culture. Ironically somehow we play in the same cover band. Go figure. Well, at least I’m aware that I’m doing it ironically. Him, I’m not so sure.

However, with all of that being said, I do love me some Cracked.

Courtesy of: 4 Pop Culture Arguments That Need to be Retired | Cracked.com http://www.cracked.com/blog/4-pop-culture-arguments-that-need-to-be-retired_p2/#ixzz2AfuJp9ET

He Said:

“I don't think marriage should be a loveless financial contract between a whore and a war hero.”

…said hubs to me earlier today. Wanted to share but not necessarily spam facebook. I also think it is hilarious and a big part of the problem with the relationships I see out here. There’s beauty in the simplicity of that statement. I told him it was one of the most romantic things he’s said to me.

Emotions are illogical.

Which is probably why I hate them so much. Also, I hate how they can simultaneously stack, conflict, draw focus, weigh a ton, distract, dove-tail, and of course, meld.

Hubs went in for another surgery yesterday. He is out and doing ok, all things permitted. That makes 3 surgeries in 18 months, if I remember correctly. He should be pro by now. I only worry because every time he goes in, he ends up hitting the ER at least three times after he comes home. Usually in the first couple weeks. Also, we thought he was doing really well last time and had made progress. Turns out, nope, not so much. Doc fused some of his foot-bones together, hoping it would make him stable enough to walk. He was recovering well and the fuse was holding, and it did make his foot more stable, but somehow he still carries the weight on the outside of his foot. 

This means that for some reason, he needs another surgery to fuse other bones? I don’t really understand how that’s going to help, but that’s because I wasn’t there to listen to the doctor this time. He’s back on painkillers, recovering at home. His mom should be up in a few days to help him out. I don’t look forward to the recovery… he had just starting getting out and about alternating crutches and cane. Now we have to go through it all again.

But everything today was compounded by a realization. And here is my attempt to track my train of thought, which tends to jumble and ramble and double-back in on itself. I was logging my recent workouts in a more logical way—a spreadsheet! Oh god do I love spreadsheets—when I realized that I have about two weeks left to lose the last two inches. Now of course logically I knew this. And in fact, I have lost roughly an inch in roughly the last week. Mentally, sure I could look at a calendar and see, “yes, that is roughly fourteen days until weigh ins”… but something about the way it clicked in my head was terrifying and depressing. The voice saying, “jfc, you’ll never manage to do it. You should just give up.” But you see, if I give up now, it’ll be just like everything else I’ve ever [not] done. Stubbornly tough it out until it’s too close to back out, and then give up at the last minute, causing me to fail. I never see things through [okay except maybe college as a whole]. I say dismissively, “well, I don’t want to starve myself!” and “well, I don’t want to work out!” but really, if this shit goes down and I don’t make it… well, skip back to last paragraph and recall that hubs just had surgery. I’ve been working my ass off with minimal results. At least, that’s what I tell myself. I can handle the fact that I weigh almost to the pound what I did when we left WA. That’s not a big deal for me. But thinking about what I’m gonna have to do, what crazy lengths I’m going to have to endure, to make it these next two weeks… to stay in, to be surrounded by people I hate and disrespect, and who treat me like I’m an idiot… but, if I don’t… but it would be SO much easier to come home. Oh god, I would love to. I’m afraid I wouldn’t get a job though. But, if I don’t… how does hubs keep seeing doctors? How do we get by? The thought of mailing home my stuff… conflicting emotions.

I guess put bluntly, I’m tired of waiting to see what’s going to happen. I know it’s all on me. It’s my problem and I have to figure it out. Now, do I continue sitting here eating everything in sight because I feel bad for myself? No, I shouldn’t. Guess I just wanted one last hurrah. But how does spending two hours a day in the gym NOT pay off?! I have feeling discouraged. Discouraged makes me want to give up. Giving up is what makes me fail. constantly failing is what makes me feel discouraged. I wish I could fast-forward to Nov. 13. I also wish I could suck some of the fat out of my butt and put it in my boobs, or redistribute it to my poor butt-less girlfriends. But anyways. None of that is possible.

 

It’s a good thing they issued us these wonderful giant straws in bootcamp, so we can SUCK IT UP. [tee hee, also, it’s in the cow’s butt! So I made a double entendre.]

Boat Recipie #3

Last Ditch PB&J

-take 1 Nutrigrain bar from mess deck [I prefer the apple or strawberry]

-cover top in peanut butter

Tadah! It’s like an open-face version of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich!

Also. I want to highly suggest the Pocket Yoga Builder app for ipad. It’s pretty freaking awesome, especially if you are experienced in yoga or have friends who are. I had her send me a flow focused on back stretches for post-Row machine, and input it manually into the app because I was afraid I’d forget how it goes. There’s a few hiccups in the app… I wish you could search by pose name, or copy and paste sequences, but you know what, it’s a helluva neat little thing. My main problem with it is “ooh that looks neat! Too bad it doesn’t fit here, gotta remember that one for later…” Can’t wait to try out this flow! Now if only I could find the time…

Boat Recipie #4

Ok, granted, I need to go back and write the other handful of recipies I’ve come out with while underway [one of them is the infamous tuna, rice, & rooster sauce]…

But anyways. We are blessed with a microwave, a coffee pot, and a hot water kettle. We rule.

1 cup o’ noodles [beef flavor]

Cut up a beef-stick

Prepare as directed

Garnish with the Roostah

Ta-dah.

I’m sure it’s better than the Seafood [Whateva] they had for dinner.

I still don't regret it...

I’ve had a reoccurring thought to myself as of late.

I look around, and you know what? Tattoos just don’t look as good as they used to.

A couple years ago, I would find them very attractive, interesting. Now… every Tom, Dick, and Sally has one, and they’re getting old. [as in, played out, not as in Sally herself is old and what used to be a cute kitten is now a floppy lion] Maybe now that they’re a dime a dozen, especially in the military, maybe they aren’t interesting any more. Maybe that’s why I liked them. I’ve seen so many bad ones—and I mean not only just absolutely stupid, meaningless tattoos, but also, the ones that were poorly done or not taken care of—that really, they don’t have the same effect on me. People just don’t care any more. I see a girl with full sleeves now and then, and instead of thinking “Man, I’d really like to check those out! I wonder what the theme is!” I just think “Meh…. Ew?”  I can’t tell you how many Koi & Water Asian Themed half-sleeves I see. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with the art, the tattoos are done well, but… where’s the creativity? Come on, people. You’ve been in the military for a half a second and went out and got some nautical themed tattoos, aren’t you clever. Sigh. [on that note, do you think Davy Jones could be considered a zombie??]

Having worked at a wonderful tattoo shop for a couple years, I understand not only the passion that an artist can pour into a piece, but also the pride with which some people wear them. I don’t get that feeling out of most of the people I see walking by now. Tattoos are just a piece of skin, an every day occurrence. Nothing fantastic or amazing about them anymore. Everyone has one. This type of thinking very much saddens me, and I’m quite surprised to find myself feeling that way.

But you know what? I still love all of mine and I don’t regret them at all. Well, except maybe that one… but mostly, I forget I have them, and I’m shocked when people don’t know they’re hiding under my uniform. Apparently I don’t look like a tattoo girl “on the outside.” [wow, since when?!]

Another Day, Another Disappointment

This was originally going to be a somewhat jovial post including an exchange between myself and my boss a few weeks back. It was humorous; he managed to compare me to a trebuchet in an almost completely serious way. This pleased me greatly.

However, I did an unofficial measurement today for Fat Camp. [It’s not lookin’ good, Bob, back to you for the story.]

Thanks, Chuck. Over the past 2 or 3 weeks, I have lost an inch. Unfortunately, that inch is split evenly between my neck and my waist. Now, the formula used to determine if you are actually a fat-ass or not [for females] is this:

hips + waist – neck = total  = body fat percentage vs. height

So. At a whopping 5’3” tall, mine looks like this:

44 + 29.5 – 13.5 = 60 = >35% body fat

Now for those of you who don’t know, I’ve already screwed up twice so I’m on thin ice. If I don’t get under 32% body fat, I will be, shall we say, forcibly excused from my contract with the service. So I have to get down to a “57”, which means losing 3 inches in any combination… unless it’s from my neck. Apparently I need to grow jowls.  

Here’s the problem with this arbitrary and archaic system of judging people’s physiques. I am extremely pear shaped, to put it nicely. I’m quite literally built like a cartoon. I am not “fat.” However, this means jack shit to anybody. Genetics? P’shaw. I have been going to the gym and dieting and have toned up most of my major muscle groups quite nicely and quite quickly. However. None of this really does me any good because of this stupid math equation.

Imagine, if you will, the following scenario. Look, I am so serious about this I even drew you a lovely illustration using MS Paint. Hey man, resources are limited. And apparently I don’t believe in legs or arms. They’re overrated anyways.

 

Me:       13” neck

34-36” bust

            29” waist

            44” hips

Right, so I’m kind of built like Jessica Rabbit, except five feet tall. Everything looks normal until you get down to the random badonk-a-donk… Anyways, because of my slimmer-in-comparison upper body, I am screwed.

Remember, 29 + 44 –13 = 60 = fat

Theoretical Fat Girl:        16” neck

                                    38” bust

                                    35” waist

                                    38” hips

So, this pretend girl would be built like an apple with several double chins. You know, where she has no curves at all; I would imagine this is what that 90s rapper would consider a “brick… houuuuse…” in my head. However, comma, 35 + 38 – 16 = 57 . Assuming this imaginary girl is also 5’3”, she would be within body fat standards. Yet when it comes down to it, who is more fit? Probably me. Who has more or less actual body fat? The world may never know.

Oh wait, just kidding, there’s like four other ways to measure body fat. All of which are far more accurate!!

Sigh. This is the problem. While I may be more aesthetically pleasing to some, “Honey, I like you the way you are” don’t pay my bills. And apparently spending 3 hours at the gym every day just affords me more of the same.

                                   

Things I Have Learned of Late

--I can tolerate Bleu Cheese dressing.

--Not so much with the swordfish steaks. They have skin and bones, which is ew.

--Worcestershire sauce is more than just a marinade, it is apparently a condiment as well.

--Worcestershire sauce is tasty on kidney beans and over-cooked salmon.

--After-dinner-coffee is always appropriate, and AWESOME.

--South Asia makes way better coffee than anywhere else I know. Sorry, Seattle.

--Everywhere has nothing on home. Except Thailand. Okay, but Thailand would have been WAY better with any of the folks I currently am missing.

--A thin long-sleeved shirt is sometimes cooler and more comfortable than a tee-shirt. Temperature wise.

--Just because you clicked ‘record’ doesn’t mean your device is recording.

--Just because you batch-converted something to mp4 doesn’t mean every episode in the season will play.

--Just because there’s a Starbucks, doesn’t mean there’s free wifi.

--Always charge your ipod. Like, every night. It is nearly impossible to work out without some form of entertainment.

--Sometimes it’s best to take initiative and own up for your mistakes. Sometimes, it’s best to keep your mouth shut, because someone has your back. AKA, it’s really hard to recall emails.

--My phone makes a terrible alarm clock.

--My alarm clock makes a terrible alarm clock.

--You can always judge a person based on the music in their library, but you can’t always predict the library by judging the person.

--If you go to a Hard Rock Café overseas, ask if they honor the 15% “I’m an American!” discount.

--iPads are pretty damn convenient, when you can get them to work right.

--I should make coffee about half as strong as I am used to in order to get it to stop tasting sour. Go figure!

--Buffets in foreign lands should perhaps be avoided, or at least regarded with extreme skepticism. O She of the Iron Stomach has fallen.

--Sometimes you just gotta grow a pair and step up.

--Sometimes you just gotta shut your mouth and fade in to the background.

--I make an incredibly effective prostitute-repellent. Tested, tried, and true! [Although not hawker-repellent]

--I need to either go to bed earlier, or stay up later. I haven’t figured out which yet.

--Be motivated, but be quiet about being motivated.

--Find a way to de-stress. Whatever that may be.

--Some songs never lose their relevancy to you on a deeper level. You always like them and they always connect, but sometimes you have to -facepalm- over how things have changed since the last time you had a moment. You gotta listen to more than just the sounds, sometimes it’s the lyrics that need attention.

Everywhere you go, there you are.

I was so excited to visit Malaysia.

Well, okay, I’ve always been excited to visit other countries. I love culture. I love food. I love seeing things and taking pictures and doing stuff. I love experiences. I love things that give me a good story to tell.

And you know what? I [mostly] got none of that so far.

So far, I have been to Singapore and Malaysia. So far, they have stricken [struck?] me as so similar to the US that it’s disturbing. I claim that I want the “real” culture… so we go to a malay market down the street where everything reeks. Not worth it. Singapore? Super clean version of the US. Malaysia? Super dirty hot version of the US, where it gets dark really early.

I don’t know. I mean, if I wanted to wander around a mall and go to a movie, I could do that at home and have a lot more fun doing so. Walking around town only kills so much time, and is seldom worth it. In a muslim/asian country, I had Italian food twice, burgers twice, and one curry dish. Really?? Okay so maybe I should've gotten the Laksa for lunch today, and at least my pizza had salmon and capers. I don’t know. Maybe this would all be more fun and exciting if I could share it with the people I care about.

And you know what else?? I can't see any stars. I saw maybe three in port. You'd think with less light pollution there would be more stars in the sky… but honestly, it's just not true. I don’t know why the rest of the world doesn’t have skies like the US.

I need more adventures. I need more pictures. I need more stories. This isn’t cutting it. I'm not… DOING much of anything. And I don’t have  a lot of chance to change that. Mostly, I guess, going somewhere else just makes me want to go home that much more. I miss home more than anything, and all I can do is think about how much I like Tacoma more than anything.

...okay well you know the coffee here is AMAZING. I'll give 'em that.

Pet Peeves & Idiosyncrasies

Anyone who knows me knows that I can’t stand the sound of people eating. Or animals eating. Or animals drinking. Or any sound that comes out of a mouth that isn’t, you know, talking or singing. This was mostly ingrained in me by my mother… to this day it almost makes me nauseous to sit next to people who chew with their mouth open—too bad I’m in the military, huh?

Anyways, I’m sure we all have our little quirks, but I have noticed a few other odd tendencies in myself.  For example: My socks must always match. Sure, they’re all black socks… but they have different textures, different styles etc, and if they aren’t the same brand of sock, I can’t wear them together. Hubs does because he doesn’t care, and thinking about, say, my socks coming up to a different length of each of my legs, well that just drives me bonkers. Auntie has gotten into the Mismatched Socks from [a company I forget] and I think I could maybe stand that… because the socks are built the same. They just have different patterns on them. I did one time wear one pink ankle sock with one blue ankle sock and the world did not end.

Also, I have to put my socks on—and shoes too—right foot first. Then left foot. Anything else just feels wrong.

I still haven’t decided if it’s nature or nurture, but people who casually stroll piss me off. I walk with purpose, from point A to point B. Even if I’m not sure where it is I’m going. But that just… inability to care… let me tell you, in a busy place like this, it gets old quick. If you throw off my walking pace, you are automatically an asshole. And that is multiplied by however much heavy stuff I’m carrying at the time. I mean for real, if you know someone is behind you, the least you can do is get out of their way!

Also, hold the door open for people walking after you. It’s not difficult. It seems odd that here, I appear to be graced with superhuman situational awareness, while at home I am just derp de derp hurrrr.

Sorry for all the emphatics, and also for the Brit tone. I just finished Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency. It was lovely, but I dare say, the voice did rub off on me a touch. Heh.  

psycho

Nutrigrain bar-                120 cal

Ostrich jerky-                 ??? cal

Coffee with creamer-       030 cal

Brown rice-                    120 cal per serving

Tuna-                            060 cal

Sirracha-                       005 cal                          =400 ish calories

 

 

Estimated RMR [that’s resting metabolic rate, the calories we burn by just existing, for example if we never got out of bed] 1500

 

Gym plan:         30 minutes on elliptical

                        30 minutes on bike

                        ?   minutes on row machine

 

I’ve got 10 minutes left on this episode of Game of Thrones, and I’m about halfway through season 1. That might get me through the week.

 

Gonna skip dinner for a nap most likely, I have a late watch so I’ll grab some meat & salad then.

 

You ever have one of those days where you break everything you touch? Firefox won’t load, even .mil sites on Explorer won’t load [shudder]. Havent been able to get myfitnesspal.com        or dailymile.com to load out here. I also managed to break the microwave for about ten minutes. Twice now. Must be giving off so much negative vibes that even electronics are picking htem up.

 

Well, I successfully taught myself how to knit, I suppose it’s about time to move on to guitar now.

Been A While

Again, hard to write since there’s really not much going on.

 

UN-official weigh in’s today… so far I’ve lost 5 inches [combined hips and waist] and dropped 10 pounds. It’s a far cry from the other FORTY pounds I need to lose technically. Trying hard not to get discouraged. I know I haven’t been up to snuff. It’s just been one thing after another. But I pretty much have a free pass to work out all day, so hopefully soon I can actually devote more time to this, instead of an hour three times a week, which is obviously not cutting it. It’s just up to me to take advantage of it I guess.

 

In other news, knitting is mostly on hold, don’t seem to have as much time anymore.

Dirk Gently is a great book and reminds me of a British I <3 Huckabees.

 

Oh, the one thing I’ve been meaning to write about, if I haven’t already… it never fails, but every time we leave port, I start getting white hairs. When I got home last time, they went away and didn’t come back. Lo and Behold, we leave, I start going grey. First time it happened was bootcamp.

So Much Nothing...

Sorry if this photo is a repost, but this is the yarn stash I brought with me on the boat. The dark red one is done, the blue and black one is done, the fluffy yellow/green/purple is done, and the Lily is done too. I just started on that funky turquoise. I had to stop knitting in bed because it hurts my hands too bad… so I started reading some Douglas Adams instead. I am thoroughly enjoying that, even if I can only sneak a couple chapters at a time. I might just be borderline narcoleptic. 

 

Well, we’ve been at sea for three weeks straight now, and away from home for a solid month. It sucks. There’s not even really anything to write about, really, but today I felt like trying. I can’t quite get on a regular schedule, and some of you can imagine how nuts that drives me. I did really good on my diet for a few days, lots of water and nothing but veggies and chicken… but then I slipped once and opened the floodgates. I think it started with a half a baked potato… and then they served mac-n-cheese for three days straight… and lately they’ve had sweet potato fries, and those aren’t as bad as regular potatoes, right? ;)

 

I’ve got 46 days left, so it’s time to focus. We’ll see how that goes. Fat Camp doesn’t seem to be helping much. A week or two ago—when I was eating right—I noticed a big difference. I have a two-pack now [and I don’t mean my butt, for all you navy people!] but it is squishy. I need to update my dailymile. It’s hard to find a machine here unless you want to wait in line for a half hour. They have a row machine in the forward gym, and bikes too, I’m thinking about making those regular visits. I also got some Insanity/P90X/whichever from a buddy, and I found a nice little quiet store room that is REALLY HOT where I can take my yoga mat and go work out. And also, free hot yoga [lol]. That is, until someone tells me not to.

 

So yeah, my day pretty much amounts to killing time, waiting for shit to break [I did have a fun adventure in a very hot dome with a very big satellite dish], working out, being grumpy, reading, knitting, and scrolling through facebook with nothing interesting to say for myself.