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Nov. 24th, 2009 03:40 amIt is really, really weird to me that Johnny Depp just got announced as Sexiest Man Alive (for the second time!). Don't get me wrong, ok, Johnny Depp is really fascinating to look at, he really captivates in every role he plays, and his transformative abilities are mindblowing - my kids' minds were blown awhile back when they found out Willy Wonka and Captain Jack Sparrow were the same guy. So then I showed them pictures of Edward Scissorhands and the Mad Hatter to really explode their heads.
But...sexiest man in the whole world? Really? Johnny Depp has to have a significant amount of facial hair to even appear masculine, and he needs giant dreads and baggy clothes to camouflage his tiny scrawniness into something substantial. Also, and mainly, I've just never seen him act or seem to feel sexy. He's shy and awkward in real life and generally deeply into a character who seems asexual as all get out (Edward S, Willy Wonka, Sweeny Todd, even Captain Jack is too ridiculous and self absorbed and oblivious to really seem very interested in sex, or passionate...)
Also can I just say, Captain Jack only SEEMS attractive because we can't smell him through the screen. I've known a sea-faring, rum drinking, scurvy infested pirate type and let me tell you, it does not smell pretty.
When I think of the other sort of man who generally gets this title from People Magazine - Brad Pitt, George Clooney, Colin Farell - it really gets confusing. The other guys are generally square jawed, 5 o'clock shadow types who are old Hollywood male at a glance. Again, do not get me wrong, I cannot take my eyes off of J.D. on the screen either. But I also cannot imagine actual chemistry with him, like...at all.
Ugh, now this is caught in my head again. It's like a 6 month run every time I think of it, before I can shake it off again!
When I first started thinking of submitting my writing formally, I had this very healthy and realistic perspective about how the publishing industry is loaded with rejection and everyone gets plenty of it. I mean...everyone-everyone, Harry Potter was rejected over and over before anyone took it, and countless "classics" were written by people nobody would give the time of day to until they had died. I was thinking my goals would not be about how many acceptances I got, but rather how many queries and submissions I sent out, as I know that persistence is a huge part of success in writing.
Then I sent out my first short article and it immediately got accepted.
I sent the same trade journal's layout department artwork and a separate person accepted that, too, another couple of days later.
And so I sent out my first novel query to an agency, all high and flying and, honestly, starting to harbor this ridiculous unspoken hope that maybe this was going to be like a hole in one for me, maybe I would beat all the odds and bypass the normal system completely.
And they said no, very politely and with a compliment.
And so I got all sensitive and irritable and proceeded to spend a whole week wasting all my writing career time on re-reading the stupid Twilight novels and making fun of them with Grant. Until today, when I realized I was getting my panties in a bunch and NOT being AT ALL perseverant.
So. Back to submitting I shall go, with Plan A back in mind re:rejection.
Poor Isaac put his hand down on a hot stove burner tonight, right after I moved a boiling pot off of it to drain some pasta. His fingertips blistered. He was screaming HYSTERICALLY, often while panicking and hopping around, for like...half an hour. He completely refused butter, running water and frozen peas and barely allowed me to get some neosporin on the burns after a LOT OF COAXING. Then he gradually got to the "let's take deep breaths together" part of the experience, and finally turned zombie in front of Aladdin while I paced, bug-eyed, trying to shake off the anxiety. I haven't ever seen him so freaked except when he had appendicitis. And it was very random, too, I don't know what was going through his head because all of my kids help in the kitchen - where I cook constantly - basically from day 1. They know stoves are hot and you don't touch them, even if you think they're off, but sure as hell not when they're blazing red... He was sitting on counters and standing on chairs to "help" from toddlerhood just like the rest. I wonder if it was one of those compulsive things, where a kid knows something is a very bad idea but just has to set it in motion anyway, or something.
After my month of procrastinating and plateau'ing, I've been strictly back on Eat to Live for a few short days in row. They've went 210, 209, 208, 207, each morning. So now I've lost 26 pounds from my original 233 a couple of months back. It's very heartening to have seen myself just plateau, and not re-gain anything, during my off-time.
I'm having some body issues in general, though...the last time I weighed 207, size 18 jeans fit fine. Now, with my bulging, messed up belly, I can't even wear 20s comfortably. I'm stuck in maternity jeans. I keep thinking, "SOON my old pants are gonna fit again...right?" and I think I'm not gonna be able to wear normal pants at all...until I get more surgery.
It's pretty bizarre, I appear to be a somewhat hot hourglass shape from the exact front, and from the exact back. Then I turn to the side, at all, and look obviously pregnant. I was thinking of taking some pictures to illustrate how drastically different I look head-on vs in profile, because it's kind of ridiculous.
I still FEEL really energetic and good about the weight loss, though, and I can see changes in my face and upper body as well as in how shirts fit and things. My Dad will be here day after tomorrow for Thanksgiving and he hasn't seen me since two months ago, I'm sure he will notice. My sister's husband flipped last time I went over there, because I haven't seen him so it was drastic rather than gradual for him. Which is cool. He's a brutally honest sort we say is not named "Frank" for nothing, so his compliments count more.
Ananda especially, but also Aaron, are having a TON of success with Kumon workbooks for math. Like...Aaron has went from chronically distracted and/or begging to not have to do schoolwork to just getting it done with no arguments. Ananda has went from doing it with some complaints, when I make her, to asking to do math all day long on her own when it's not schooltime. <---- Seriously. I really love how independent it is for them, too, because as much as I believe in Right Start Math I just can't do an intensely interactive 30 minute math lesson with them - that requires 30 minutes of gathering materials, scanning and printing and planning ahead beforehand on my part - everyday. I don't HAVE a solid, undistracted hour to give to their math all the time. Isaac is also loving Kumon math, though. It is a winner around here for sure, and I've reccomended it to my mother in law for my nieces (who she raises).
Isaac is also loving the Abeka Handbook for Reading that I used with A and A. He can't get enough of it, and I find it easy to work with together out on the deck swing as we watch Elise and Jake play, or on the counter by the stove as I cook dinner. Burning aside. *sigh*
A and A have their first company production, in dance, coming up. It's not the end of the year recital that all of Dance Empire does. From what I understand Ananda will be dancing in a group, and Aaron will be doing a bunch of round offs across the stage at some point, followed by a girl who does back flips.
Grant took them to dance this evening, then they went and had pizza and drove up to Santa's by themselves. They seemed ridiculously happy when I was reading to them and praying with them before bed.
My brother has been here for a week now. In some ways he's already very helpful - just taking out trash, moving laundry through, putting away clean dishes, making it possible for me to take a bike ride with a small child while Grant's at work or for Grant and I to go see a movie while they're all in bed. And I'm dealing ok with the hard parts I knew would come - giving up the office, extra groceries. BUT, what I did not think about enough and should have was just...having him around me all day every day. Like, I don't get any time alone at night anymore, because he will outlast me everytime. When I find time in the afternoon while my kids are all occupied, to read, he comes and sits down and starts talking like I'm not holding a book. We have an argument about whether or not we're going to listen to the death metal on his iPod everytime we get in the van to go anywhere. And then I have to hear my music through his poor tortured ears and it kind of ruins it for me. He's completely obsessed with music and really emotional about it, so it is A Big Deal and sure to visibly anger him when I tell him, no, I don't like this song actually, or that one either.
In general though I've been relieved that he's not NEARLY so angry as he used to be. Way more under control and way less volatile. I think the last year taught him something about rolling with the punches.
I'm very inordinately irritated with all the little irritating things he does, though. Like put his constantly-frozen water bottle on parts of unsuspecting peoples' bodies to startle them, and fart and then giggle...both all day long. Purposely burping as loud as possible and with an air of knowing he's pretty impressive. Teaching my kids to say "Duh". It probably doesn't help that he arrived with my period and as I went back to the strict eating regimen, but oh my gosh, sometimes it's like...gtfo.
I'm just kind of introverted and haven't dealt with living with other peoples for awhile. I really kind of don't like it. I can't help but feel awkward when he just comes and hovers in the doorway as I read to the kids before bed, and I HATE HATE HATE having to deal with him asking if it's ok to do things we already agreed he wouldn't do before he came - like playing video games in the main part of the house, or on the main computer (he has his own setups for that in his room). I just really loathe having authority over other grown people, it makes me tired and I don't see why we have to talk about this when it was already settled via email 2 weeks ago. This is why we stopped having a part time nanny, I totally cannot stand telling other adults what to do in my house, setting boundaries and all that crap.
His weird standards for everything are also really exasperating. Like, to him, REALLY baggy and somewhat faded black jeans ARE "nice pants" for a job interview...compared to his Hot Topic jeans which have buckles, chains and red lacing all over, or his "old jeans" that are ripped from thigh to calf. He expects some kind of validation and affirmation because he got up at noon rather than 2 or 3, like that is early. And he genuinely believes I should be proud because he puts half a banana into a smoothie that otherwise consists of corn syrup-y sherbert and caramel sauce.
We've had at least one late night, hours-long conversation that I feel really good about, though. And I feel good when I see him taking walks, or outside on the trampoline with A and A. Elise seriously ADORES him and he carries her around a lot, which I think is good for both of them (I can't carry her at all, due to herniation).
Probably he wanted to open up his skull and bleach his brain the other day when G and I got in the shower together and then locked the bedroom door for an hour after we got out. I pretty much refuse to just never do that again since he's here indefinitely, though. I mean, this is what keeps me waiting all week for Grant's days off.
He also shuddered, blinked 3 times and then burst into hysterical laughter the first time he walked in on my belly cast, and covers his eyes asking "Are you decent?" when he suspects Elise could be nursing.
Tomorrow is the first day of all sorts of "conditions" kicking in...we agreed to a week of him hanging out and chilling, but then him spending at least 3 days per week out actively looking for a job and making follow-up calls and all that, with the deal being that he will have a job within a month. Maybe a crappy job while he continues looking for something better, but a job. My mother sent money for him to get better clothes with, which I'm sure will be...interesting, to negotiate with him. I think it will be ok. He seems to respond well to being initially horrified, like for instance when I suggested bow ties and suspenders in plaids it made him much more open to black polos. There have to be some sort of beige penny loafers out there that canterrify open him up to plain old dark dress shoes.
He says things sometimes that strongly imply him being here forever. I've had to gently remind him several times that he shouldn't look at this as his home for the rest of his life - even if he needs to make a 5 year plan or a 3 year plan or something, this is not the place to plan on being when he's 30. He kind of laughed nervously when I told him he has to move out before my kids do.
It's too damned late, and I have to do a marathon run of blitz-cleaning tomorrow for when my father arrives the next day, and then the house just kind of fills up for Thanksgiving...I think I'm going to put Isaac in A and A's room, bring Jake and Elise in our room, stick Bob in the emptied out little kids' room, and let my Dad have Bob's room, for the one night he's here. My sister and I are coordinating the menu and double-teaming the cooking. Oh, damnitt...I have to pick up my produce share all early in the morning because the turkey I pre-ordered is going to be in it, and the lady I pick up from doesn't have room in her fridge for everyone's turkeys...blargh.
That's it, I'm out.
But...sexiest man in the whole world? Really? Johnny Depp has to have a significant amount of facial hair to even appear masculine, and he needs giant dreads and baggy clothes to camouflage his tiny scrawniness into something substantial. Also, and mainly, I've just never seen him act or seem to feel sexy. He's shy and awkward in real life and generally deeply into a character who seems asexual as all get out (Edward S, Willy Wonka, Sweeny Todd, even Captain Jack is too ridiculous and self absorbed and oblivious to really seem very interested in sex, or passionate...)
Also can I just say, Captain Jack only SEEMS attractive because we can't smell him through the screen. I've known a sea-faring, rum drinking, scurvy infested pirate type and let me tell you, it does not smell pretty.
When I think of the other sort of man who generally gets this title from People Magazine - Brad Pitt, George Clooney, Colin Farell - it really gets confusing. The other guys are generally square jawed, 5 o'clock shadow types who are old Hollywood male at a glance. Again, do not get me wrong, I cannot take my eyes off of J.D. on the screen either. But I also cannot imagine actual chemistry with him, like...at all.
Ugh, now this is caught in my head again. It's like a 6 month run every time I think of it, before I can shake it off again!
When I first started thinking of submitting my writing formally, I had this very healthy and realistic perspective about how the publishing industry is loaded with rejection and everyone gets plenty of it. I mean...everyone-everyone, Harry Potter was rejected over and over before anyone took it, and countless "classics" were written by people nobody would give the time of day to until they had died. I was thinking my goals would not be about how many acceptances I got, but rather how many queries and submissions I sent out, as I know that persistence is a huge part of success in writing.
Then I sent out my first short article and it immediately got accepted.
I sent the same trade journal's layout department artwork and a separate person accepted that, too, another couple of days later.
And so I sent out my first novel query to an agency, all high and flying and, honestly, starting to harbor this ridiculous unspoken hope that maybe this was going to be like a hole in one for me, maybe I would beat all the odds and bypass the normal system completely.
And they said no, very politely and with a compliment.
And so I got all sensitive and irritable and proceeded to spend a whole week wasting all my writing career time on re-reading the stupid Twilight novels and making fun of them with Grant. Until today, when I realized I was getting my panties in a bunch and NOT being AT ALL perseverant.
So. Back to submitting I shall go, with Plan A back in mind re:rejection.
Poor Isaac put his hand down on a hot stove burner tonight, right after I moved a boiling pot off of it to drain some pasta. His fingertips blistered. He was screaming HYSTERICALLY, often while panicking and hopping around, for like...half an hour. He completely refused butter, running water and frozen peas and barely allowed me to get some neosporin on the burns after a LOT OF COAXING. Then he gradually got to the "let's take deep breaths together" part of the experience, and finally turned zombie in front of Aladdin while I paced, bug-eyed, trying to shake off the anxiety. I haven't ever seen him so freaked except when he had appendicitis. And it was very random, too, I don't know what was going through his head because all of my kids help in the kitchen - where I cook constantly - basically from day 1. They know stoves are hot and you don't touch them, even if you think they're off, but sure as hell not when they're blazing red... He was sitting on counters and standing on chairs to "help" from toddlerhood just like the rest. I wonder if it was one of those compulsive things, where a kid knows something is a very bad idea but just has to set it in motion anyway, or something.
After my month of procrastinating and plateau'ing, I've been strictly back on Eat to Live for a few short days in row. They've went 210, 209, 208, 207, each morning. So now I've lost 26 pounds from my original 233 a couple of months back. It's very heartening to have seen myself just plateau, and not re-gain anything, during my off-time.
I'm having some body issues in general, though...the last time I weighed 207, size 18 jeans fit fine. Now, with my bulging, messed up belly, I can't even wear 20s comfortably. I'm stuck in maternity jeans. I keep thinking, "SOON my old pants are gonna fit again...right?" and I think I'm not gonna be able to wear normal pants at all...until I get more surgery.
It's pretty bizarre, I appear to be a somewhat hot hourglass shape from the exact front, and from the exact back. Then I turn to the side, at all, and look obviously pregnant. I was thinking of taking some pictures to illustrate how drastically different I look head-on vs in profile, because it's kind of ridiculous.
I still FEEL really energetic and good about the weight loss, though, and I can see changes in my face and upper body as well as in how shirts fit and things. My Dad will be here day after tomorrow for Thanksgiving and he hasn't seen me since two months ago, I'm sure he will notice. My sister's husband flipped last time I went over there, because I haven't seen him so it was drastic rather than gradual for him. Which is cool. He's a brutally honest sort we say is not named "Frank" for nothing, so his compliments count more.
Ananda especially, but also Aaron, are having a TON of success with Kumon workbooks for math. Like...Aaron has went from chronically distracted and/or begging to not have to do schoolwork to just getting it done with no arguments. Ananda has went from doing it with some complaints, when I make her, to asking to do math all day long on her own when it's not schooltime. <---- Seriously. I really love how independent it is for them, too, because as much as I believe in Right Start Math I just can't do an intensely interactive 30 minute math lesson with them - that requires 30 minutes of gathering materials, scanning and printing and planning ahead beforehand on my part - everyday. I don't HAVE a solid, undistracted hour to give to their math all the time. Isaac is also loving Kumon math, though. It is a winner around here for sure, and I've reccomended it to my mother in law for my nieces (who she raises).
Isaac is also loving the Abeka Handbook for Reading that I used with A and A. He can't get enough of it, and I find it easy to work with together out on the deck swing as we watch Elise and Jake play, or on the counter by the stove as I cook dinner. Burning aside. *sigh*
A and A have their first company production, in dance, coming up. It's not the end of the year recital that all of Dance Empire does. From what I understand Ananda will be dancing in a group, and Aaron will be doing a bunch of round offs across the stage at some point, followed by a girl who does back flips.
Grant took them to dance this evening, then they went and had pizza and drove up to Santa's by themselves. They seemed ridiculously happy when I was reading to them and praying with them before bed.
My brother has been here for a week now. In some ways he's already very helpful - just taking out trash, moving laundry through, putting away clean dishes, making it possible for me to take a bike ride with a small child while Grant's at work or for Grant and I to go see a movie while they're all in bed. And I'm dealing ok with the hard parts I knew would come - giving up the office, extra groceries. BUT, what I did not think about enough and should have was just...having him around me all day every day. Like, I don't get any time alone at night anymore, because he will outlast me everytime. When I find time in the afternoon while my kids are all occupied, to read, he comes and sits down and starts talking like I'm not holding a book. We have an argument about whether or not we're going to listen to the death metal on his iPod everytime we get in the van to go anywhere. And then I have to hear my music through his poor tortured ears and it kind of ruins it for me. He's completely obsessed with music and really emotional about it, so it is A Big Deal and sure to visibly anger him when I tell him, no, I don't like this song actually, or that one either.
In general though I've been relieved that he's not NEARLY so angry as he used to be. Way more under control and way less volatile. I think the last year taught him something about rolling with the punches.
I'm very inordinately irritated with all the little irritating things he does, though. Like put his constantly-frozen water bottle on parts of unsuspecting peoples' bodies to startle them, and fart and then giggle...both all day long. Purposely burping as loud as possible and with an air of knowing he's pretty impressive. Teaching my kids to say "Duh". It probably doesn't help that he arrived with my period and as I went back to the strict eating regimen, but oh my gosh, sometimes it's like...gtfo.
I'm just kind of introverted and haven't dealt with living with other peoples for awhile. I really kind of don't like it. I can't help but feel awkward when he just comes and hovers in the doorway as I read to the kids before bed, and I HATE HATE HATE having to deal with him asking if it's ok to do things we already agreed he wouldn't do before he came - like playing video games in the main part of the house, or on the main computer (he has his own setups for that in his room). I just really loathe having authority over other grown people, it makes me tired and I don't see why we have to talk about this when it was already settled via email 2 weeks ago. This is why we stopped having a part time nanny, I totally cannot stand telling other adults what to do in my house, setting boundaries and all that crap.
His weird standards for everything are also really exasperating. Like, to him, REALLY baggy and somewhat faded black jeans ARE "nice pants" for a job interview...compared to his Hot Topic jeans which have buckles, chains and red lacing all over, or his "old jeans" that are ripped from thigh to calf. He expects some kind of validation and affirmation because he got up at noon rather than 2 or 3, like that is early. And he genuinely believes I should be proud because he puts half a banana into a smoothie that otherwise consists of corn syrup-y sherbert and caramel sauce.
We've had at least one late night, hours-long conversation that I feel really good about, though. And I feel good when I see him taking walks, or outside on the trampoline with A and A. Elise seriously ADORES him and he carries her around a lot, which I think is good for both of them (I can't carry her at all, due to herniation).
Probably he wanted to open up his skull and bleach his brain the other day when G and I got in the shower together and then locked the bedroom door for an hour after we got out. I pretty much refuse to just never do that again since he's here indefinitely, though. I mean, this is what keeps me waiting all week for Grant's days off.
He also shuddered, blinked 3 times and then burst into hysterical laughter the first time he walked in on my belly cast, and covers his eyes asking "Are you decent?" when he suspects Elise could be nursing.
Tomorrow is the first day of all sorts of "conditions" kicking in...we agreed to a week of him hanging out and chilling, but then him spending at least 3 days per week out actively looking for a job and making follow-up calls and all that, with the deal being that he will have a job within a month. Maybe a crappy job while he continues looking for something better, but a job. My mother sent money for him to get better clothes with, which I'm sure will be...interesting, to negotiate with him. I think it will be ok. He seems to respond well to being initially horrified, like for instance when I suggested bow ties and suspenders in plaids it made him much more open to black polos. There have to be some sort of beige penny loafers out there that can
He says things sometimes that strongly imply him being here forever. I've had to gently remind him several times that he shouldn't look at this as his home for the rest of his life - even if he needs to make a 5 year plan or a 3 year plan or something, this is not the place to plan on being when he's 30. He kind of laughed nervously when I told him he has to move out before my kids do.
It's too damned late, and I have to do a marathon run of blitz-cleaning tomorrow for when my father arrives the next day, and then the house just kind of fills up for Thanksgiving...I think I'm going to put Isaac in A and A's room, bring Jake and Elise in our room, stick Bob in the emptied out little kids' room, and let my Dad have Bob's room, for the one night he's here. My sister and I are coordinating the menu and double-teaming the cooking. Oh, damnitt...I have to pick up my produce share all early in the morning because the turkey I pre-ordered is going to be in it, and the lady I pick up from doesn't have room in her fridge for everyone's turkeys...blargh.
That's it, I'm out.
