Confessions of a Former Overachiever

For various reasons, I feel that it's time to move my blog from MSN spaces, and try a new site.  Check out my new blog at: http://darklightwrites.wordpress.com

 

I'm not importing the old stuff, just starting fresh.  I'll leave this site active, but there won't be any new content added.  Hope you check out the new blog.  Yes, I will write there regularly.

I don't really want to work.  However, since I enjoy living in a house, as opposed to a bus shelter or under a bridge somewhere, sooner or later I will have to work.  In preparation, I sent my resume to two places where I knew someone who could recommend me.  I figured might get an interview.  It would be good practice.  I got interviews at both places, which proves that getting a job is all about who you know.

 

After today's interview, I was offered the job.  That has never happened to me before.  I'm not really sure I want the job.  I definitely don't want to say yes to the job before going to tomorrow's interview and seeing what happens there.  So I guess that's what I'll do.

"The Easter Bunny isn't a real bunny," Valerie says.  "It's just somebody in a costume."

"Yeah," agrees Isaac.

"Do you think it could be your mom or dad or Tony in the costume?" asks Granny.

"Nooooo," says Isaac.  "The Easter Bunny only comes when everyone is asleep, so how could it be mom or dad or Tony if they're all sleeping."  He says this in such away as to imply that his grandmother might be a few sandwiches short of a picnic for even asking the question.

 

Later on...

 

"I'm not sure if the Easter Bunny is a real bunny, or someone in a costume," says Valerie.

"It has to be someone in a costume," offers Isaac.  "Bunnies don't grow as big as mom."

"Well, it could be a real bunny that's really nice," Valerie shoots back.  "Mom, do you know who the Easter Bunny is?"

"Yes, I do," I reply.

"Who is it?" brother and sister ask in unison.

"Well, if I tell you, the Easter Bunny won't come to you anymore.  She only comes to people who believe in her and don't know who she is."

"Oh, ok, don't tell me then," says Valerie.

"Don't tell me either," says Isaac.

 

Later still ...

 

"Daddy told me about the Easter Bunny," Valerie says.

"Oh yeah, what did he tell you?"

"That it's magic!"

 

I have a friend, a guy my age, never married, no kids.  He has nieces or nephews, I'm not sure which.  He told me he was going to spend Easter at his sister's place and would be buying Easter Bunny stuff for her kids.  I related the Easter Bunny story from Valerie and Isaac.

 

He laughed.  "The things kids come up with," then after a pause, "I guess I'll never experience that."

 

He seemed the slightest bit sad about it.

 

It's a beautiful thing, believing in magic.

I've lost 70 pounds.  This is more than my almost 7 year old daughter weighs.  I'm at a size now that is probably about the smallest I remember being in my adult life.  I was around this size when I finished university and started working.  The difficulty I'm having is that I don't really know what's after this.  I don't really remember being smaller than this, so it's kind of unknown territory.  But, I know that I want to be smaller than this.

 

This weight loss has had a huge impact on my activity level.  I was always reasonably active, but this just allows me to do so much more.  I am at the front of the pack in the training walks for the Weekend, whereas last year, I would have been near the back.  I can snowshoe in the Gatineau Hills.  I can get to the ball to make shots I wouldn't have been able to manage before in squash.  And I feel like doing things.  I have a lot more energy.

 

On the down side, the loose skin on my stomach is distressing.  It is soft and hangy and makes it difficult to get clothes that fit.  It's clear that plastic surgery will be required to fix it, and my boobs, which unfortunately, due to a combination of genetics, age and weight loss, point alot more southward than I would like.  I'll be heading out to plastic surgery consultations soon.  Although I don't plan on having the surgery until later in the fall, I want to find out what I'm in for, and I'm hoping that perhaps scheduling the surgery will keep me motivated.

 

Another sort of weird side-effect -- my hair is thinning.  I don't think it's noticeable to anyone but me, but I can definitely feel it.  I've heard people say this is just the aftermath of surgery, so I'm hopeful it won't continue.

 

The weight loss has been pretty steady, averaging about 1.5 pounds a week.  I would like it to be faster, but I know this is a reasonable pace, and am trying to relax about it.  If I keep losing at this rate, I will reach my goal weight, or something very close to it, by the end of the year.

 

Even with this tool, it's not an easy journey.  But I do believe that having the band has made something that was probably impossible for me become possible.  There were times early on when I thought I was crazy for doing this.  But now, I wouldn't change it.  It's probably one of the best decisions I've ever made.

For fifteen years and two months, I have been going to the same building every day.  On Monday, I went there to work for the last time.

 

I could see the writing on the wall for a while now.  A large project recently cancelled in our division, a move towards heading things out of the Belguim site.  When I checked my email from home while on vacation and read the goodbye emails from colleagues affected by a reduction in force, I felt a certainty that I would be impacted as well.  I have survived through many, many rounds of layoffs, never before being hit myself, nor thinking that I would be, but this time, I just knew I would be on the list.  When I returned to work after vacation on Monday to find my phone dead and my email inaccessible, I knew it was time to start packing.  My boss and the HR representative were most apologetic that I found out that way, but in a way, perhaps that warning made it a little better than coming in to think all was normal and then being hit with the news.

 

While I am not saddened by the loss of a job I felt no passion for, I still feel the impact of not being the one to end the relationship.  Not that I would have ended the relationship -- the financially sound thing to do was to wait for the severance package, which is good.  But still, not being the one to have made the choice stings a bit.  And there is a small feeling of humiliation involved with packing up your things and moving out the building, knowing the colleagues you have shared space with for years are watching.  The only time I had any difficulty with the news was when people around me started realizing what was happening and came over to say goodbye.  I won't miss anything about the place aside from the wonderful people I worked with.

 

I am still coming to terms with this huge change, and feeling somewhat at loose ends.  It's odd, having nowhere to go every morning.  But over the last couple of days, an interesting feeling has been growing.  Happiness.  For the first time in my life, I can do exactly as I please.  The severance package allows me the luxury of taking some time to think about my next steps.  I look at this as a blessing and a tremendous opportunity to find a new career; one which I can be excited and passionate about.  I have some ideas about where I want to go, and have even started taking some initial steps in the right direction.

 

It's getting pretty dusty in here.  A bunch of random stuff for your reading pleasure.

 

I've been training and fundraising for the Weekend.  I've been out doing 10K training walks every Sunday morning, moving up to 15K this weekend.  On February 23rd I held a Scrap & Yap to raise money for the weekend and came away with $1350.00.  It was a great day.  Special thanks to Serdic for his delivery of the delicious ginger sparklers and his generous donation, and to Martin's wife (who doesn't have a cool blog name) for the great lunch.  I'm still raising money, so please consider sponsoring me.

 

 

I'm not sure if I've mentioned it before but I bought snowshoes this year (I've been threatening to do this for 3 years now) in an attempt to find something to get me through the winter.  I'd been out only one with my kids (in an experience that could best be described as "interesting" with Valerie whining the whole time and Isaac running and being a champion snowshoer), but had wanted to go out with some friends.  Finally got around to doing that on Sunday (after the 10K walk in the morning).  Three of us met up and did the Wolf Trail in Gatineau Park.  If you're checking out the map, on Sunday we did up to about the Mahinga Lookouts and then headed back down.  The elevation is about 380m at that point.  The hills kicked my ass, but the views were incredible and so worth it.  I am kicking myself for not bringing a camera.  I only managed a few crappy cell phone pictures.  Then last night, in a fit of what can only be described as insanity, KW and I braved the frigid temperatures and the dark and headed back up for a night hike, head lamps at the ready.  We were the only two people there.  Once we got moving, I wasn't cold at all.  It was a super clear night with no moon to speak of and the stars were just incredible.  This time, we did the whole loop (shhh... don't tell, you're not supposed to do the whole loop on snowshoes) - 8.5K.  I could become addicted to this.  I'm definitely going back up soon during the day with a camera.

 

 

I think if you have a huge zit, such as the one that is currently taking up a large amount of real estate on the right side of my chin, you should be allowed to stay home from work or school.  I mean really, who wants to go out with such a thing taking up residence on their face?  And nobody else in the world needs to be subjected to it either.  You know they're trying not to stare and tell you "man you've got a huge zit", but it's kind of like a train wreck. They just can't look away.

 

 

Apparently, I have lost enough weight that people fail to recognize me.  A couple weeks ago, I was out at the AcuDetox session when I woman (who happens to be a hypnotist that I used to see) came into the room.  After a while, she came over and sat down beside me and said "I'm sorry I didn't come over to say hello to you before.  You've lost so much weight I didn't recognize you."  My father tells me that he wouldn't have recognized me from my Facebook picture (I dare you to look at it WWJD).  Interesting, that is.  I have a lot to say on the weight loss subject, so I'll just save the rest for another post.

 

 

Minds out of the gutter you adolescent boys.  You know who you are.  Next week I am heading out to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina for March break.  I shall brave airline travel (alone) with my two children.  Myrtle Beach is not an easy place to fly to.  Getting there involves a flight from Ottawa to Washington DC, a 4 hour wait in Washington, another flight from Washington to Charlotte, NC, a one hour wait in Charlotte and another flight from Charlotte to Myrtle Beach.  This with 5 and 6 year old children.  I have calculated that we will spend approximately 12 hours in airports by the time we get there (if everything is on time).  I pointed out the the person booking my flight that I could drive there almost as quickly.  Coming home should be a bit better as we only have to stop in Chicago, although I do question the need to fly west to get east again.  But whatever.  I have a van rented for our time there (my parents have rented a condo there, so we'll be staying with them, and I wanted us to all be able to get places in the same vehicle).  I called the rental company to inquire about whether they have booster seats.  "Yes, ma'am, we do," says the woman on the phone, in her slow southern drawl.  "Do you have to pay extra for them?"  "Yes ma'am they're $15 a day per seat."  Highway robbery that.  I say "Wow, I could buy them cheaper than that."  "Yes, ma'am you could.  They're $19.95 down there at Wal-mart.  That's what I would do if I were you.  Buy them and leave them at the airport.  Your children will be perfectly safe in that back seat till you get to the Wal-mart just down the road."  The parents are now on a mission to find booster seats.  Sadly, apparently they missed a $4 one at a thrift shop that very day.  We are staying at the Sea Watch Resort right on the ocean and I am greatly looking forward to an escape from this snow.

 

 

I have submitted some short stories to contests and an article to a magazine.  While I don't really expect to win or to be published, it's been an interesting experience and I intend to continue.  One of the things I've learned from doing this is that I don't really want to write short stories, which has been the boost I needed to get me (re)started on the novel.  Apparently the type of writing I do is called narrative or creative non-fiction.  Who knew it had it's own genre?

Once again, I have decided to participate in The Weekend to End Breast Cancer.  For those of you who may not be familiar with the event, it is a 60K walk which takes place over 2 days.  It is held in various cities (Vancouver, Calgary, Edmonton, Toronto, Ottawa, Montreal and Halifax) throughout Canada.  This is the 3rd year this event will take place in Ottawa and the 3rd year I will participate.  This year, I am lucky to be part of team called Bandsters for Boobies.  The team started out with a few of us who have had lapband surgery and has expanded to include others as well.

 

One of the commitments I've made in registering for the Weekend is to raise $2000, which goes to the Ottawa Regional Cancer Foundation.  To do this, I need your help.  Please consider sponsoring me for the Weekend.  You can donate by credit card at my Weekend to End Breast Cancer website, or you send me cash or a cheque (leave me a comment or send me an email for my contact info) and I will make the donation on your behalf.  Tax receipts are issued for any donation of $10 or more.  Your support is greatly appreciated.

Facebook has allowed me to conduct what I consider to be an interesting experiment.  And speaking of Facebook experiments, if any of you have some pictures of WWJD, could you please send them to me so I can post them on Facebook without his consent to see if he really will hunt me down?  Thanks. 

 

So, among many annoying things, Facebook has this application called "Define Me".  Essentially it allows you to add this box to your Facebook profile where your "friends" can type in words that they think define you.  I was interested to find out whether others perceive me the way I perceive myself, so I added the box and harrassed encouraged my friends to type something in it.

 

No, I'm not talking about you Jimmy, as sexy as you are.

 

The avacado was revered by the Aztecs as an aphrodisiac.  It gets it's name from the word ahuacatl which is apparently Aztec for testicle.  I've never given this much thought before, but I guess now that I do think about it, an avacado does look a bit like a (albeit scarily huge) testicle.  Kinda wrinkly and puckered.  Until you take the skin off.  The avacado that is.  I have no real interest in skinning a testicle.  Eww.

 

The avacado is (according to this article) one of nature's most perfect foods.

 

Guacamole.  Yum.

 

 

 

Today, I started AcuDetox treatments.  For those of you too lazy to click on the link, this involves having 5 acupuncture needles inserted into specific points in each ear.  This is done every day (except weekends) for three weeks.  This protocol has been successfully used to treat addictions and is supposed to provide other overall benefits.  Let's see how it works on food addiction.  We have been cautioned not to expect much change until the full course of treatment is completed.  And that things might get worse before they get better.

 

Let me say this.  Acupuncture needles, at least in the ears, hurt.  Not a screaming in pain type of hurt, but still.  And in fact, some of the people receiving the treatment did in fact cry out in pain (although there was no actual screaming).

 

I can't say exactly whether I have seen any benefits yet, and as I just said, this is not necessarily expected.  However, I did notice that perhaps I had a little more energy today, in spite of being exhausted.  Enough energy to haul my ass to a spinning class and get through the whole thing.  Said ass is now screaming in pain, but since I only plan on spinning once a week, it will have a week to heal up.  I guess I need to build up some butt callouses.

 

So, I'm walking down the hall/street/whereever, minding my own business, when someone tells me to "smile".  This does not make me want to smile.  In fact, when someone tells me to smile, my first instinct is to throttle them.  Good thing I have some self control.  At least in this area.

 

To all you "smile" nazis.  What gives you the right to interrupt my personal space and tell me to smile?  And what's up with all you people who walk around smiling at nothing?  I think you're deranged.

My daughter is known for an activity she calls "thinking".  I have no doubt mentioned this before, but am too lazy to look up the reference.  Anyway, in short, thinking involves pacing back and forth while mumbling to herself.  When she "thinks" she is making up stories in her head, creating dialogue, and the like.

 

On Saturday, my son went for a playdate at a friend's house.  When Valerie and I arrived to pick him up, he announced that he had been rollerblading in their basement and wanted to show me.  We went downstairs for the demonstration.  He got all suited up -- rollerblades, helmet, elbow pads, shin pads, gloves -- and showed me one length of the basement on wobbly ankles (and holding my hand) before he lost interest and moved on to something else.  Then Valerie announced "I want to try it."  I wasn't optimistic about this -- my daughter is beautiful and sweet and smart, but coordinated -- not so much.  But we suited her up (she skipped the shin guards) and got her started.  To my amazement, after about 2 lengths of the basement with her holding my hand, she was on her own.  Back and forth across the room, over and over again. 

 

After a while she declared emphatically, "This is even more fun than thinking!!"  High praise indeed.

I've lost 60 pounds now.  It took 2 months to lose the last 10 pounds, a result I'm not that happy with to be honest.  I've had some difficulty with getting the right fill level.  I've probably puked more in the last month than I have in my whole life.  But it seems that perhaps now I've reached the so-called "sweet spot".  In fact, 5 of those 10 pounds came off in the last week.

 

This is not easy.  I'm not sure what I expected exactly.  Perhaps there's no way to prepare yourself for the changes you have to make in your life for this to be successful.  My ability to eat can be unpredictable at times.  So far, I haven't really found any food that I can't tolerate at all (for which I am grateful), but I can only eat very, very small quantities.  People see what I bring for lunch at work and laugh.  And sometimes I can't finish all of the small amount I bring.  At dinner time, my portions are smaller than my children's.  It would seem like this would be a good thing, and to a certain extent, it is.  But there's a small amount of regret that goes along with it.  Sometimes, something is good and I just want to eat more of it.  I'll never be able to drink beer or pop again.  On a rare occasion, I've taken a sip of someone else's pop and been overwhelmed by how fizzy it is.  I need to leave it in my mouth for a while to get rid of the fizz before I can swallow it.  Oddly, I've kind of lost the taste for diet coke.  I used to LOVE it.  I recently had a sip of someone's and it tasted odd.  Every now and then I do make a Fresca flat and drink that though.  That's a big treat.  Going to a restaurant is difficult.  I know that I will not be able to finish anything that I order.  It seems like a waste of money.  And I worry that I will end up with something stuck and be uncomfortable for the whole visit.  Of course, the upside of that is that I spend a lot less money in restaurants.  To some extent, the joy has been taken out of eating.  The challenge for me is to find some joy in this new way of eating.

 

On the upside.  I'm 60 pounds lighter.  I'm down 5 pants sizes.  I sometimes shop in "normal" stores.  My rings are spinning around my fingers.  The reactions of my family (most of whom hadn't seen me in several months) at Christmas were overwhelming.  That felt really good.  And an interesting thing.  People, strangers even, seem to be nicer.  More people smile and say hello to me than before.  Is it simply because I'm thinner, or am I projecting an image of being more approachable without being aware of it?  I'm not sure.

 

I still have a long way to go before I reach my goal weight (fully recognizing that I might adjust my goal weight as my body changes.  I'm not excessively concerned with a number on a scale, but more with how I look and feel).  In fact, I'm not even half way there.  But I can see the possibility.  A destination that seemed unreachable before now is within sight.

It was just announced that there will be a network upgrade at work taking place over 3 upcoming weekends.  If that upgrade goes anything like the recent roll out of new systems, I predict we might as well all take 6 weeks off because there will be no network for us to use.

Have you ever been sitting in a meeting or something at work, kind of bored and looked around the table at your colleagues and then, to amuse yourself, tried to imagine them having sex with their partners?

 

No?

 

I guess I'm a huge weirdo then.

I was always one of those people who figured you had to live with the consequences of your actions.  Anything else seemed to be the easy way out.  In an unhappy marriage?  Too bad.  You made this choice and now you need to make it work.  Divorce would be an admission of failure and just too easy.  I thought that it was righteous, I guess, to be miserable for the rest of your life.

 

I have recently realized that it isn't righteous and it isn't necessary to be miserable for the rest of your life based on a choice you made.  That we make mistakes and that in fact, sometimes things happen through no fault of our own.  That it is possible to make another choice that negates a previous one we wish we hadn't made.

The most surprising thing about this relevation is that what I thought was the easy way out isn't necessarily easy at all.  Making a choice not to be miserable (and by extension, not to make those close to you miserable) is sometimes the most difficult choice you'll ever make.

Darklight's law of online support systems (where online support systems include things like time and expense tracking tools).

 

If you have to provide training for online support systems to a group of educated, intelligent people, who use computers on a regular basis, the system is too complicated.

 

Corollary

 

When I am complaining about a non-intuitive system that should be intuitive, don't ask me if I've taken the training.  I'm not talking about building rockets here -- I just want to enter my sick days in the tool.

An example of the proliferation of stuff which has gotten even worse with the advent of Facebook.

 

 

So, what I want to know is this.  How is it exactly, that charitable organization or company X knows when these messages have been forwarded on.  Are they monitoring people's SuperWall and FunWall in Facebook?  Do they have some kind of big brother program out there that is watching everyone's email activity and counts every time this particular message gets forwarded?  Maybe there's some company out there which has been formed with the sole purpose of monitoring the forwarding activity of all the "so-and-so will donate money" emails that are floating around the internet and depositing the money (which comes from where, exactly?) into various people's accounts.  I might be missing something really obvious here and denying some kid an extra 7 cents for their head trauma treatment by not forwarding this junk.  Somebody help me out.

 

Maybe I'll start my own woe is me email and see how many people forward it (of course, that would require me getting plugged into this big brother monitoring corporation which could be problematic.  I wonder how much of a cut of my proceeds they will take).  It will read thusly:

 

 

 

 

 

In response to my previous entry about not making any resolutions, Jimmy commented "I hope you can keep it".  I'm not sure if he was joking.  Because, a resolution not to make resolutions is surprisingly difficult to keep.  It seems that human beings are generally driven towards goal setting and achievement.  Although I do know one or two people who seem to have no ambition whatsoever to be any different th