Cranky

Having a really tough time readjusting to life here right now. Feel like crying or screaming or both, sometimes. Not sure what I can do about it.

This cold isn't helping, either.

CRANKY!

Fixing My Brain

I feel very lucky that my first design client is my boyfriend's company, and that he is my direct contact. He's an excellent art director and gives really helpful feedback. He also has somehow tricked everyone else in the company into taking me seriously as a designer, and it's the first time I've ever felt my professional design opinions matter to anyone, at all, even a little.

Every day he helps to heal the damage CSM did to my brain, in ways he doesn't even know.

Thank you, lover.

On Working Out and Complaining

A bit of a row started on Twitter the other day when I whinged about hating doing cardio, but being glad that my bmi was going down. A number of people reacted very angrily to what I thought was a playful complaint followed by an upbeat "however". So let me respond to the unexpected drama my comments seemed to rouse:

If I am uncomfortable with the weight that I am currently at it is not a crime against feminism, or a sign that I am giving into the skinny-model-ideal bullshit. It simply means that *I* am not pleased with how I look in clothes right now. I have never fit into the fashion model ideal, nor do I aim to. I do not want long, super skinny legs with no hips or butt. I'd rather look like a J. Scott Campbell girl any day. ;)

I ask that people not jump on me for wanting to lose weight. I really do appreciate that some people believe "you're perfect the way you are," but I feel within myself that there is room for improvement. Whether or not you agree with me, I would rather be supported in this decision than attacked. It's not like I'm having random cosmetic surgery here- we're discussing regular exercise and healthy eating. There is nothing negative or harmful about what I'm doing. I am addressing my insecurity and taking steps to improve the way I feel about my body by becoming a healthier, fitter person. Tell me, where the harm is in that...?

I see nothing wrong with admitting that I feel unhappy about the way my body looks when I am taking steps to change it. That should be applauded, not condemned as "giving into insecurity" or "against your feminist ideals". I've gained over 20lbs since moving to London and it's time that comes off so that I can feel confident and healthy.

Additionally, if I choose to work out, it does not in any way reflect upon *you* or your choice to work out (or not). Just because I have exercised for a week doesn't mean I look down upon you if you haven't! There is no holier-than-thou going on here- I am simply trying to get back down to a weight I am happy with.
Something about trying to get healthy makes people assume that I am becoming a health nazi. I'm not. I'm eating nutella on white bread as I type this. NOM NOM NOM.

So please, in future, when I am complaining a little about how much I hate running but like losing the weight, I would ask that people not take it personally. MY choices have nothing to do with them. I am taking healthy steps to change something I don't like about myself and I think that should be applauded.

Thank you!
R.

Friday

Yesterday:

Dancing to Lady Gaga with Eva who was wearing my highest, most ridiculous platform heels, driving gloves, and a huge gold mask. This girl is going to be a performer- she was practically vogue-ing.

Spending far too much money on vintage-inspired dresses and future-inspired shoes.

Heading out to Kinky Salon where we met the hottest fast zombie ever (aka our friend Arwen) who took us back to her awesome flat to watch Vampire Girl vs. Frankenstein Girl which was a fine example of uh, quality film making.

Getting home at 3:30am and being taken advantage of.


Awesome Friday.

Tubby

This week I began working out in the mornings with my boyfriend. He's been at it for months, whereas I've gained 20lbs since moving to London.

This pretty much sums up my feelings each morning:

Self-Employed

This week I began my first job as an actual fashion and footwear designer. I’m suddenly self-employed, contracted, and designing some ridiculous things. I can ignore reality to some degree because these clothes will never actually be made out of fabric. Intrigued? I cannot tell you more, nor will I be able to show you anything I am doing for several months. But trust me when I say that if I can pull it off, this will be an epic start to my new portfolio and a discussion-worthy addition to my CV.

Back in SF, Day 3

Today I am cranky. I am sitting in my boyfriend's bedroom and getting really irritated at myself because I don't have any knowledge or control over my situation right now. After a year of being the responsible one who set up the utilities and made all the decisions and took care of all the problems, I am suddenly feeling impotent and useless in a situation I didn't set up.

I realize that sounds a little petty, but I am used to thinking, "ok, this isn't working, and if I can't seem to fix it, so I go to this drawer to find the paperwork I filed, to call the company that has an account in my name so I can sort it out..." and instead I find myself having to defer to my boyfriend and ask him stupid things like where the router is, or where I can put my clothing that won't be in the way.

Because I am no longer taking out loans to pay for my education/life, I currently have no income and no money at my disposal. I am also living in a place where I cannot control how easily I come and go. I just feel useless and pathetic. It's no one's fault, certainly not my boyfriend's. I'm just confused by suddenly having a very different lifestyle and not having tons of stuff to do. It's all just a weird mix of familiar and unfamiliar. The transition from months of constant activity and learning and stress to sudden laziness and being in someone else's space is really getting me down today. I just want to throw all my stuff away and stop trying to fit into a life I didn't create for myself.

I hate feeling useless and incapable.

Hello, San Francisco

It's hot. Unseasonably hot. I just flew out from a country with wan, blue sunshine and I'm not ready for this warm buttery sunlight and heat.

Without sounding pretentious, I feel a little out of place here. I've spent considerable time adjusting to London and it finally became natural. Now I find myself feeling uncomfortable with how wide and open American roads feel, and why does everyone insist on driving on the other side of the road? Our money looks silly and I don't see the point in $1 bills. Tax is added onto shop prices at the till, service charge isn't added, and people look at me funny when I say, "cheers" as a thank you. I'd forgotten just how lazy Americans are about putting together an outfit in the morning- my god people, at east TRY to look nice! You're offending my eyes. The colour of the atmosphere and the colour of the buildings create a pink hue over all of San Francisco, and I'd forgotten how peach the street lamps are. The accents are all wrong. Heavy Californian accents (which I'd never noticed before) sound almost crass. Most English accents are softer to my ears, and I can't believe how many hard, loud Rs I'm hearing around me. I'm highly aware of the weather, the sense of space, the colours of the city, the high hills and massive amount of greenery dotted around the streets. I wonder if this is how visitors see San Francisco.

I'm not a traitor to my own people, but obviously leaving the country gives you a new perspective on the place you come from. I am looking at my city with slightly different eyes, and although little things will become habit, I suspect some things will never become invisible again.

My boyfriend seems absolutely thrilled to have me back. He keeps looking at me like he can't believe I'm really here. It warms my heart, even though I have trouble expressing how much I appreciate his appreciation.  And I realized yesterday that I am officially no longer "staying" with him- now I live with him. I guess that should feel like a big step, but it doesn't. We work well together as a couple, so it comes naturally.

Speaking of work, I start a new job on Monday. I know, right? Well, I *did* say I needed to hit the ground running when I arrived. It seems I'll be doing some design work for my boyfriend's company (it wasn't his suggestion, by the way. His co-workers suggested me because, yaknow, I'm awesome.) In between that, I'm going to harass the shoe designer here that I'd like to work for/with. I will be so friendly she won't be able to say no. I'm good at that.

It's only my first day here, but I miss my friends in London. I am both happy to be back and sad to have left. I miss a lot of stupid things too- like being someone with an accent, and it being a conversation-starter. I miss the feel of pound coins, and boys with smart coats, nerdy specs and perfectly wrapped knit scarves. I miss the weekend markets, the painfully fashionable Shoreditch twats, and the all night salt beef bagels. I miss the transit system (laugh all you want), and I miss brick buildings. But yes, most of all I miss my friends. I don't find friends of that calibre often, and leaving them has left mascara running down my cheeks in the back of cabs. I hate goodbyes. So so so much.

But hopefully I will be able to fly back and visit my people soon. I couldn't say goodbye to either city permanently. I think I will always feel that London is as much a home to me as San Francisco.

4 days pt 3

The walkthrough seemed to go surprisingly well. They said I was one of their good tenants, and there were no major problems.

Hopefully I'll get most of, if not all of the deposit back.

I made one mistake- I gave them my keys, forgetting I might want to leave the house to get, say, something quick to eat. So now, while I wait for my girl to pick me up in a few hours, I have to order in food when what I really want to do is go down to the shop and grab crisps.

LAME.

4 days pt 2

I'm confused by how many cleaners have suddenly appeared in my flat. There was one, then there were three, then four, now six, back down to three...

I'm having a bit of a white person complex right now because the cleaners are all non-English speakers from other countries. Somehow I didn't feel like such a privileged white bitch when my Indian flatmate was the one organizing the cleaning service. *shrink

So after waking early to wait for the Virgin Media guy to come collect the router, and waiting for hours, I finally called and they told me "oh, no one is coming to pick it up. Ooops. Just leave it." Great, thanks guys. There were so many things I could have done this morning had I not been sitting around waiting! I could have slept in!

I managed to get rid of my unwanted clothes and shoes by putting them downstairs in the entry way with a sign saying "FREE CLOTHES size 14 and SHOES size 8-9". They were gone in ten minutes.

Now I just have to survive the walkthrough with the property manager at 3pm. I anticipate a lot of arguing and drama. Hopefully I can either kill him with smiles and kindness, or turn on the, "I'm taller, bigger, and meaner than you," persona. It just depends on how he wants to play this.

Today is stressful. I just want this part of it to be over with as quickly as possible.