Issues with Food

I haven’t lost any weight. Nothing. My body fat composition is down, but I’m not losing anything on the scale. Before you even try to say something about how great. Oh wow. You’re still shrinking since your body fat composition is down. Well, shut it. My clothes don’t fit me any better and I don’t look any thinner.

And here is why.

I eat way too much. I have a serious problem. There are some days when I know I’m not hungry, and I eat regardless. It’s awful. I take in too many calories. Most importantly, I don’t delay gratification.

If want a cookie, I eat it. If I want ice cream, I eat it. If I want a big bowl of pasta, I eat it. I don’t eat fast food or things that are unhealthy. I just eat too much of everything in general. I also eat to the point that I’m full. It’s a terrible habit, and I don’t really know why I do this. Sometimes I wonder if I’m filling some void.

I have been told and have noticed that I’m a terrible binger. I binge on everything. I binge eat, binge exercise, binge hang out with my friends. Binging is how I roll. It’s this character trait of  mine that is one of many reasons why I don’t do drugs. I totally couldn’t handle drugs. I’d be homeless and high. It would be bad.

As the wedding approaches and  I continue to make bad choices, I realize that I have this problem. I have tried not buying those things because I can’t have them in my presences. This seems unfair to FH. When we do finally merge he’ll want to have Oreos and cookies, snacks, and other bad-for-OMMFA-foods. I must learn to control myself.

Today when I was having a small ice cream after dinner I thought: this is not how a bride who wants to be thinner should eat.

I’ve always had this problem and I thought seeing a dietician would help. All the dietician has taught me is to love exercise. I mean really love it. This, of course, is not a bad thing, but I’m not skinnier and I still think I should cancel the photographer because I’m going to hate every picture. I just know it.

FH always asks: How bad do you want it?

Sometimes the desire to have ice cream seems to over power the desire to be thin. This is the problem. What I want to figure out is why? Why does the ice cream seem better at the moment versus being skinny in the future?

I am so vain so why do I eat the damn ice cream?

Well, this has been bothering me and I figured if I got it out of my head I might be able to conquer it.

Does anyone else have this problem out there? How do you deal?

The End of the Hunt: Part 1

Recently, I wrote about how I was looking for work outside of education.

The 2010-2011 year has been a tough one on me. Between finishing my M.F.A., teaching high school, then being an adjunct there has been a lot of crying, crisis, and questioning. I decided in March that I wasn’t going to settle for adjuncting and began applying for full-time jobs in education and publishing. The fifty mile radius was hunted and conquered. If there was a job I was qualified for, a cover letter was written and resume altered. This was no joke.

By June, when my workshop ended, I had pretty much given up on a career in education and was actually excited about a possible career change. The thought of not grading badly written papers and reading annoying student emails made me hungry for work in copy editing, copy writing, whatever. I’d be able to leave my work at work, plan the wedding, and train for the half-marathon in November–the positive energy was flowing.

By the end of July, I had applied for unemployment, and things were not looking good. My lack of experience outside of the classroom and the job market left me feeling discouraged. What the hell? Why did I go to school for all those years? I wanted a full-time job, with benefits. No matter what.

I had applied to any, if not all, full-time college level teaching jobs I was qualified for. I even applied for a full-time lecturer position at the school I was adjucting with. I was told that while I was qualified, I needed a few more semesters of teaching “under my belt” before they would call me in for an interview. Apparently going into my fifth year of teaching wasn’t enough experience to be interviewed. They instead hired an adjunct with no publications but ten years of adjuncting experience. But, I digress. The rejection letters kept coming from the colleges. It was time to cave in and apply at the high school level. Because I am without a teaching license I wasn’t very confident. Like most school districts in the country, my area had recently closed down schools and let hundreds of teachers go, only to get back a budget with the funding to rehire some these teachers; many with licenses.

Still, full-time with benefits and a killer schedule was too appealing. With the wedding coming up, the housing market being a buyer’s market, and being sick of being poor, teaching high school didn’t sound like such a terrible pathway. So, I applied. I emailed principals my cover letter and resume. Drove, sometimes over an hour, to drop off cover letters and resumes. As I’ve said before on this blog, I’m an aggressive person. When I want something I get it, no matter how long it takes. Mark my words, I will be hired as a tenure track professor. It’s going to happen. I can see it. The visualization has happened. I pound the pavement. Not to mention being aggressive is necessary because the market blows and getting unemployment is demoralizing and depressing. The thought of the government taking care of me, helping me with my rent and groceries– frankly, I’m ashamed. I may be the first in my family to earn their master’s degree, but I’m also the first to receive unemployment. Not something to be so proud of.

Within two weeks of hardcore applying and pavement pounding, I was called in for two interviews. The interviews were scheduled the same day FH and I were headed out for vacation. I had to interview, pack, then head for the airport.

The first interview was for a position teaching IB (International Baccalaureate). I’ve taught IB before and it’s wonderful. It’s college level teaching, but with the high school atmosphere. It’s great. The school, however was absorbing more than half their student population because of recent school closings.

The interview went well. I nailed it. I was funny, passionate, and hungry for work. An hour later I was sitting in the another interview. So, you know how during an interview when the person running the interview starts telling you about the job, the company, and themselves? Okay, imagine this. Do you find yourself in an out-of-body experience? Well, the principal, starting discussing his pedagogical theories on education and how he ran the school elaborating on pedagogy, leadership philosophies, PLC’s (Professional Learning Communities) and my thoughts were as follows.

This is not going well.

I hope I have time to pack.

Why are their so many acronyms in education. PLC, IEP, ESOL, ESE, PEP, W.T.F?

Wait, did he just ask me a question?

Fuck.

Snap out of it.

You’re cycling.

Focus.

So, after adamantly explaining why I was most comfortable teaching seniors, the principal said, “Well OMMFA, you are defitinely one of our top canditates.

“Oh, wow. Great.”

“Although,” awesome, here it comes, “you don’t have a license and hiring a non-licesed teacher can be a nightmare.” He stopped. “Are you planning on staying in the area?”

“Well, I am getting married, but if it doesn’t work out…” Laughter. Sometimes I think I’m a stand-up comic. I live to make jokes and make people laugh. The thing is, I’m not so funny.

“Okay then, we’ll be in touch.”

Moments later I was in the car texting FH when…

Ring.

“Hello?”

“OMMFA, it’s B—-” I was in the parking lot. I must have left something in the office.

“Yes, hi.”

“So, we really like you. Think you’re terrific, and would like to recommend you for the position.”

“Oh wow.” Wait a second. “To teach seniors?”

“Yes.”

“Well, this is great, but can I think about it?”

“Of course, we’re confident the other school is going to call you too, but we want you here.”

“Thank you so much. I will let you know in a few days.”

By the time FH and I were in the air, headed for vacation the following had happened.

I called my mom, dad, and FH for advice.

Cried for joy.

Spoke to the vice principal who’d sat in the interview. VP called to reassure me I’d be teaching seniors, if I accepted the position.

Got a call from HR offering me the position.

We landed. I was finally employed.

Full-time with benefits! I could finally afford a shopping spree! New shoes!

When we returned from vacation I found out the shoes would have to wait.

 

Part 2 should be up in a few days.

Revision is Scary. Psycho Scary. Screaming Out Loud Scary.

For months I’ve been mentally preparing myself to revise my novel. It’s sitting there on my flash drive, backed up in my email, and in my Dropbox account. I’ve been trying to prepare myself to sit down, reread it, and finally decide what the hell I need to do to it. When I finished it and had people read it, I was told “the skeleton is there, you just have to flesh it out.” It’s historical fiction and I don’t think I’ve done enough research, and I feel like I don’t know the right details to make it strong. To make it believable. To make it good.

I should mention my mother said it was “alright.” While I’m blessed to have a mother who is honest, oftentimes brutally so (seriously who tells their kid their novel is okay, that’s messed up right?), it still hurt to hear. When I defended it to my thesis committee, I felt that they didn’t think it was literary enough and found it to be more of a genre piece. This was also painful. There is an element of a “love story” in it, and when I was told it was “marketable” it wasn’t in a small-press-get-recongized-for-being-profound way, it was more of a stay-at-home-mothers-would-appreciate-it way. Although Nick Sparks tapped that market, so yeah I wouldn’t mind owning a boat and not being in debt. I think love stories scare professors or something. There is definitely a danger to play with cliches. While I wasn’t expecting my committee to tell me I was the next Aimee Bender, I did feel like I walked away having disappointed TC and my committee and still not understanding what the eff literary even means. Frankly, by the time the process was done I was so over it. I wanted to chuck it and never look at it again. I was told by FH, TC, and my mother that I held back. Held back from what? What am I so scared of?

Now that some time (okay too much time) has passed I think my eyes will be fresh, and I can look at it less critically. I know what needs to be done. The arc is there. For the most part the novel needs to be filled in. It covers a very long period of time and there are gaps in time that don’t necessarily need to be covered but addressed, and there are storylines and details that need developing. I also need to do some major research. I suck and hate research. Research is why I will die when I decide to finally get my PhD. Seriously. I hate research. My future dissertation is going to be my death. I’ll be buried under books about Beckett or Borges or God knows who else unable to breathe shouting, “How am I not myself?”* This is how I envision my death. At least there are books involved.

As of right now, the novel is about 200 pages long, maybe a little less. When I started the project and presented it to TC, I was told I was writing a 500 page novel. I laughed and told TC that I was not. I’m sure when I start rereading it I will finally realize TC was right. I’ll have to finally dig deep and pump out another 300 pages. Although a page a day is less than a year of writing. That’s not so bad.

The past couple years I have been really struggling with my fiction. My non-fiction is not an issue. I feel very comfortable writing about myself. Possibly because I’m a narcissistic, selfish bitch (it’s true readers, and you know it) and because writing about myself and my family is something I’m very comfortable with. For years I’ve been saying my family could be the next Kardashians, only likable in our craziness. Not to mention, watching rich people be crazy is annoying. Watching real people be crazy, that’s entertaining.  My issue is with my fiction. I have hit a road block. I have a short story sitting on my computer that I have no clue what do with. I don’t even know if I’m halfway through with it. I don’t know if it might be  part of a novel. I just don’t know.

There is some strong writing there, I think. I have the horrible habit of reading my writing and wanting to rewrite it immediately after it’s been processed by my brain. I’m so self-conscious. I think it all sucks. Frankly, when go through some of these blog posts I wonder why some of you come back for more. I’m grateful that you do. I don’t tell great stories like Wide Lawns does. Now that girl can write. I feel like I don’t have any ideas. None. Zip. It’s an empty space up there.

For sure my fiction is suffering because I’m not reading enough of it. I’ve been trying to get through some short stories and I’ve finally sat down with the Marquez. I’m also reading a book about running because I’m training for a half marathon (got to get skinny for the wedding). I’m hoping that as life begins to stabilize I’ll be able to get some fiction going. Actually, screw that. I’m not going to hope. I’m going to do. I think feeling ready to revise the novel is a big step for me. Huge. Lately I’ve been dreaming about my characters, worrying that they are lonely in the world I’ve created for them. I swear those suckers are alive sometimes.

Anyway.

After some small errands and a fierce workout I’ll sit down and finally start digging in. I’m scared to death I’m going to want to throw it in my fireplace. Good thing it’s hot as hell outside.

Why is revision so effing scary?

 

*If you didn’t get this I Heart Huckabee reference hurry up and put that movie in your Netflix queue. Seriously. Do it.

I’m Back!

FH and I went on vacation last week. We spent a week in the city where is from and the time flew. I had never been to the part of the country where FH hails as home and got to see his old stomping ground. I also got to meet his best friend from high school and some of his family. I don’t want to sound all patriotic (not that there is anything wrong with that) but America is fucking gorgeous. I got to see some new landscapes and was very impressed with our county. Okay, patriotic rant over.

He says I was campaigning hard for the wedding to his family. Our wedding is practically a destination wedding, and our families will be traveling from all over the place to celebrate. What, I want them to party with us.

We had a great time, but now it’s back to reality. He is looking for work as well so we’re in a big state of limbo right now. I know I’ll be doing something steady this fall, just not sure about all the details.

Right now all this instability has been stressing me out. I’m not sure about our money situation, where we’re going to live, and if we’re going on a honeymoon. We will go on a honeymoon but I have my heart set on Hawaii but it ain’t cheap.

I have 5 days to figure out how to pay my bills this month with $45 in my checking account and $0 in my savings account. Ah to have a real paycheck.

Writing this post forces me to ask myself why I didn’t become a nurse or an engineer, or a hair dresser. Honestly. At least I have time to work on revising my novel and banging out a memoir.

#depressing

Self Destructive

I weighed in today, and after losing 6 pounds guess who gained 4 this week. I have no excuses. I didn’t drink enough water, didn’t count calories and only worked out once this week. What is wrong with me? I was doing so awesome.
I think my bad behavior and slacking off the past few weeks (I’ve been terrible about counting calories) bit me hard in the ass. I feel like I have to start all over again.

The dietician looked very disappointed in me. I am disappointed in me.

Do I or don’t I want to look good in that wedding dress or not?

Full Plate

Yeah, so I haven’t been sleeping. Those of you who have been reading this blog for a while know this isn’t something new. I’ve had trouble sleeping for a long time. I think I remember it beginning to be a problem around my sophomore year of college. I would imagine that if any psychologists have been reading my blog they would probably find enough evidence to suggest that I’m depressed. I mean look up the symptoms: sad mood, ruts, weight gain, loss of interest in activities, and of course, lack of sleep. It’s all there people.

The thing is I don’t think I’m depressed, I just think I have too much on my plate.

My first year out of college I started teaching high school. It was a stressful job because a) I’d never done it before, and b) I taught super honors students who were to be frank, pains in the ass. I also was living at home, which can make any person go insane. I started getting panic attacks. I had to wear one of the heart monitors for a week. You want to know when my heart raced the most? When I was driving home from work. That’s right people, when I was headed away from my job. Now if that doesn’t freak you out…

Anyway.

My panic attacks subsided in grad school. Every once in a while I got a panic attack, where I couldn’t breath or my heart was racing so fast, or both. I usually got panic attacks towards the ends of semesters when I had papers due, and had to grade my student papers as well. The ability to sleep, never returned. On occasion, if I’m wicked tired or have been awake for a long time, or had a great workout I’ll be able to conk out, but this is rare, if ever.

Well this semester the panic attacks are back, and with a vengeance. I’m not having one right now, but I have been getting them more often that I like to admit. When I first started having anxiety it was during the day, lately though, I’ve been having panic attacks in the middle of the night. I wake up from them.

Oftentimes, I’ll have had a nightmare. Two nights ago I dreamt about a serial killing priest–I’ve been reading the Dexter series–a few nights before that I dreamt that my wedding dress came in, but it was the wrong size, and I had to lose like 50 pounds in 2 weeks to fit into it–I’ve been watching a lot of Girl Meets Gown, and Say Yes to the Dress (oh shush, you know I’ve been good about the wedding talk). I wake up because I need air, because my heart feels like it is attached to an explosive.

Last night, I woke up and all I could think about was the papers I needed to grade. It was ridiculous.

My plate is full. I teach an absurd amount of classes. Beckettian even. I have about 120 students all of them turning in an average of 4 papers a semester, not to mention the presentations. I get paid part-time,  but I work overtime. Most instructors (not tenure track professors) teach 4 sections a semester. Four sections is manageable. Six is not.

Oh and did I mention I’m planning a long distance wedding.

Okay, I know that there are a lot you out there who have way more on your plates. Honestly, I’m blessed that I don’t have to worry about a lot of things like paying my bills, my health (knock on wood), the well-being of children,  and other issues that plague others. ( I’m not saying children are a plague–Freudian slip?).

My problem isn’t that I have a lot on my plate (that’s part of it, but not the whole thing). My problem is that I don’t know how to handle the things on my plate.

And so for the first time in almost four years, I’m dealing with panic attacks in the only way I know how. And that means shutting the hell up and getting my crap done.

Sometimes, that’s just good enough.

Here’s to trying.

New Years Resolution

It’s that time of year when the New Year’s Resolutions become a necessity. I’ve been attending the gym since about October, and while I would like to look better than I do for my wedding and life, in general, losing weight is NOT one of my resolutions. I’ve been told to prepare myself mentally for the busy, overcrowded gym. I’m not stoked about that.

I don’t really do resolutions because I’m already a goal oriented person, and when it comes down to it when I want something done, I simply do it. So, the whole resolution thing isn’t really for me.

In fact, this is the first year in a while, I feel truly inspired to do a new years resolution. In past, I’ve resolved to stop cracking my knuckles, and well I still do it. I’ve also resolved to lose weight. So, the whole resolution thing isn’t a big success with me.

I’ve decided that this year I’d like my New Year’s resolution to be something a little more abstract. Weight loss is tangible, and so is getting a job. The thing is, I worry about everything. While I was home planning the wedding, we had a meeting with a catering manager, and I literally got physically ill. I nearly threw up and got the worst migraine I’ve had in years. This is unacceptable.

When I called one of my aunts over the holidays, she told me to enjoy my engagement; to not stress. For me, this is easier said than done. In fact, two after she’d said this I was sitting in that meeting wanting to vomit. After speaking with FH, I realized that getting ill is not the answer, not to mention being stressed is going to be a damper on the weight loss situation. Damn Cortisol.

My New Year’s resolution is to enjoy myself. I’m not going to stress about flowers, venues, and candles. I’m not going to worry about getting skinny for the wedding. I’m going to do yoga and run because I love it. I’m not going to panic if I don’t lose weight and see results immediately–partly because I won’t see results immediately and partly because it doesn’t matter. Finally, I’m hoping that by not being caught up in the worrying and enjoying life, I can bang out some fantastic writing this year.

This is my first resolution that doesn’t involve something about my physical appearance. And for once, I think that’s a good thing.

The other thing I’d like to improve on this year is my finacial situation. I’m tired of being broke and I’m thinking I need to be even more proactive when it comes to getting my money in order. Enough is enough. I’m getting married in a year (almost to the day!) and I need to learn how to manage my money. I also hope, more than anything that 2011 is the year I finally get stable, full-time work. I’ve already received two rejection letters from schools (one was a school I thought I had a shot at). I’m trying to not get discouraged but it’s ugly out there.

But I’m not going to worry about! Everything will workout.

Finally, this year I’d like to give this blog a bit a face lift. I think it needs some changes. I’m thinking of posting a poem once a week (maybe once every two weeks) and possibly start a series of short stories here.

My girlfriend and I share work with each other once a month and I’m hoping to get my novel polished, but I have to say, I’m so sick of that project. The thing is I want to see it published. My mother read it recently and told me that I wasn’t digging deep enough emotionally with it. While I found this incredibly harsh criticism, I think she was right. Ever since she told me that I’ve had a hard time getting to work on it. I’m deathly afraid of my novel and I think I am holding back. My mom said I’m afraid of what I’ll find when I dig deep.

Probably more Catholic-Italian guilt.

My friend over at Widelawns is doing a thirty day thing where she writes on a specific topic everyday, although she’s been a bit busy with a beautiful newborn baby. I, however, do not have child, or a husband to take care of so more writing is definitely in order. I’m not sure exactly what to do and all suggestions are welcome.

Regardless, 2011 will be a good year. By the end of 2011 I will be Mrs. One Mean MFA, not Ms. or Miss. Whoa. I also hope to have enjoyed 2011, being engaged and truly embracing the lifestyle of a writer.

Again, the blog needs a makeover, so help me out. What would you all like to see more of? What would you like to see less of? Are there any other writing blogs out there that I should check out that might give me some ideas.

I hope you all have a safe and wonderful time celebrating tomorrow night.

Wedding Talk–No worries, I’ll Make it Quick

I don’t want to turn this into a wedding planning blog, because lord knows there are plenty out there, but I must get somethings off my chest.

As you know, The Boyfriend/Future Husband proposed over Thanksgiving break while we were on vacation. Well, as I’ve mentioned before I come from a huge Italian family. In fact, before we posted it on facebook, I called my mother. In less than 2 hours, my cousin (who is like my sister) had already left me message on facebook congratulating me. I was actually signing on to write her an email about it, but she already knew.

So within two hours, the news was international.

Inter-freakin’-national.

Well, we’ve met with the priest and are working on setting a date.

I’ll be home for Christmas and am hoping to have the venue and church squared away. Of course this would mean things need to go as planned. I have to say, I’m so grateful Future Husband asked me when he did, because he’s allowed for me to have a little over a year to plan the wedding.

While I’m sure there will be plenty of stories that will come from the wedding planning, right now setting the date and convincing my mother that having the wedding where Future Husband and I want  is turning into such a nightmare.

My whole family lives outside of the country. Future Husband’s family lives in America. All of the older Italian generation wants to go to the wedding, but travel for them is difficult. I get it, I really do, but I have my heart set on a certain place, and Future Husband likes the idea too. Frankly, it’s our day, and we want it have the party where we  want to have the party. I know it sounds selfish, but whatever.

I love my mother more than she realized, and  more than anything I want to make my parents happy. FH (Future Husband) and I met with the priest, and because of the date we want he can’t marry us. My mother asked our priest back home, and he can’t either unless we get married on the Friday, instead of the Saturday. While, getting married on the Friday would be cheaper, I am hell-bent on the Saturday. As I write this, I feel like I sound like some crazy unreasonable bride that Oxygen network would kill to film. Am I being unreasonable to want to marry on a certain date, in a certain city (that I should mention has a huge place  FH and my heart. We met there and went to college together there. So many great memories. And bonus it’s close to where my immediate family lives)?

Look, I know I’m particular, high-strung, stubborn, and anal, but is that necessarily a bad thing when it comes to planning the first big party as an official, united couple?

Am I being crazy? Bitchy? I just want it be this great party that people look back to and thinks, “Man, I sure had a blast at FH and One Mean MFA’s wedding.”

Is that so terrible?