Anorexia-Alcoholism: An Unfortunate Hybrid

Mode of distraction: Trying (and failing) to come up with a Brangelina-esque word for anorexia-alcoholism that I like enough to put in the title. 
Distracting me from: Actually eating lunch on my lunch break. 

As I'm days away from turning 25, the dust from turning 21 has most definitely settled and being able to order drinks at bars, clubs, restaurants, and airplanes has become second nature (okay, ordering on airplanes still feels fun). But, as discussed in a previous entry, I've become focused on this "getting in shape" situation and try to get to the gym 4-5 times a week, and now that I've been doing that for a few months, it should surprise exactly no one who knows me that I've entered the obsessive realm. Not going four times a week feels like failing, and I've come to contemplate everything I put in my mouth (sigh...dick joke, snicker, etc.).

I was out to dinner with Alex's family last night at the delicious Patxi's Chicago Pizza in Hayes Valley, and we discussed the availability of wine and beer. Beer actually sounded good, but I turned it down (in favor of Coke, which really makes no sense for the topic of this blog, but whatever). Almost always at restaurants nowadays I get water, not alcohol. Same for when friends come over for movie nights. In the days of yore I would have enjoyed a nice glass of wine or three to unwind, but now I'll just stick with water or one of the remaining Big Sticks (sigh...dick joke, snicker, etc.) in my freezer from San Francisco's random sunny weekends.

Why? I don't typically want to drink alcohol unless I'm going to get drunk.

Quintessential 21st birthday shot.

Yikes. Really? But yes, it's true. Alcohol, like all things great, is filled with calories, and why waste them when I'm not even going to reap their full benefits? Granted, I'm not trying to lose weight, but I do have pesky lower belly fat that I stare at incessantly upon entering and exiting the shower, and I'm pretty sure that it's a physical manifestation of my drug of choice. Or just natural body fat that would require a more serious exercise/diet effort to lose than I'm willing/able to perform. Either way, it's there, and I'd rather it not be...unless the upside is a lowered sense of awareness while dancing with my favorite people in a crowded, trashy, loud environment. Or shit talking on my couch. Or dodging rats at Hobson's.

So, I've completed Step One. I've admitted I have a problem. Therefore, I'll be pouring myself a singular glass of wine now as soon as I'm off work.

I feel better already.

Faux Freedom

Mode of distraction: Buying new and new-to-me music.
Distracting me from: Thesis writing. 

Classes. Are. Over. It was worthy, is worthy, and will continue to be worthy of a true "Raise Your Glass" moment:

The post-final class drinks at the reliable (take as you will) Hobson's was a necessary way to end the semester. After a last class that actually ran five minutes over (I mean, WTF), I met with Karen and Alex and ranted and (practically) ran to the bar. Fairly certain I took a shot before I even said hi to anyone. After I had chased it with a few sips of a vodka tonic, I felt human and ready to socialize. It's been said in countless status updates and slurred side-hugs, but I do thank everyone (you know who you are) involved in that program who made it a really special and helpful experience. And for those of you who didn't...thanks for the stories (not the ones you wrote, necessarily, but the ones you provided nonetheless).

The celebration couldn't last long, however, with my looming thesis deadline: a fully revised first half of my thesis due to Max on May 23. I figured this would be about 150 pages, as I see my thesis wrapping up at around 300 (currently around the 250 range), but it is now 6:30-something on May 18 and I'm at page 102. And I know I need to edit. So, methinks I've got another chapter.5 in me and then it'll be time to press print and just hope I've been overestimating the length of my story. This could all just be my body providing me with a built-in excuse because I'm so fucking tired from my continual work-gym-library combo I've been rocking these last few days.

I did pause in productivity to partake in my first-ever Bay to Breakers! Our group was "You Are What You Drink," and I selected the delectable mimosa to represent myself. Feast your eyes on my costume-making prowess, which--coupled with my beloved Tokyo Tea--garnered praise throughout the day:

It was a fun day--maybe eight degrees too cold, and I could have done without a slew of straight boys turning my apartment to a bigger mess than our housewarming party did in about half the time, but what are you gonna do? Why, bitch about it on your blog, of course! Oh, and boys--I know dick aiming becomes only more taxing while intoxicated, but seriously--the amount of piss on my toilet seat caused Hobson's flashbacks. Gain control or sit down until you can piss like a lady.

...

Anyway, off to write...because school ain't over yet.

Aloe Vera and Adrienne Villafana

Mode of distraction: Putting my new Kelly Clarkson song leak on repeat.
Distracting me from: Getting changed for a celebratory dinner at Tataki.

Okay, so, I meant to do this blog post a week ago. Everyone get in your mental Deloreans and pretend this was last week. This also explains why my post isn't about my very last week of class EVER, but I need more distance to write about that. All I could say about that now is...

So, onto last week, because it was a good one, and because my foot is still peeling from the sunburn. That's right. SUNBURN. We had a hot, nice, amazing weekend in San Francisco. So nice, in fact, that Alex and myself took a trip to Golden Gate Park with Elliot's little well-behaved mongrel, Moose, and laid out in the sun. Shirtless and everything--and I was relieved to discover that everyone in San Francisco was in the same pasty position I was. I covered myself in sunscreen from head to toe mid-shin. I have no idea why I just didn't commit to the whole leg, but I burnt pretty badly there. Thank god for Aloe Vera. Imagine if I hadn't put any sunscreen on? I'd have taken all the Vicodin I could find and slept in a bathtub for five days.

Speaking of Aloe Vera, my beloved Adrienne Villafana (see what I did there?) visited all the way from ho-hum Washington D.C. for the weekend! We kicked off the visit with a potluck at Elliot's, then drank and danced the night away on Friday, Davis style--with King's Cup and everything!

Turned out, we drank a little too much (I know, I was shocked, too), because one of our friends had a real college flashback and ended up throwing up all night while I grabbed wads of her hair from her face and sat on the kitchen floor with her...alone...for hours. Really brings me back.

We had scheduled a more low-key game night for Saturday, but after a series of truly unfortunate events, that didn't happen. I was ready to kinda sorta lose my shit about it (because it was a plan! and Adrienne was only here for a short time! and I hate stupid decisions! and it was a plan!), but Alex convinced me to not go on a total Danny tirade when Elliot and Adrienne finally arrived at our place at 11:30, and so I just went to bed. The next morning, before Adrienne had to go back to the airport, we had what can only be described as a perfectly lovely brunch. It was a great way to end the trip. There's a lesson here somewhere, but...I'm gonna go ahead and ignore that.

Needless to say, it was amazing having Adrienne back. It felt so natural, like she had only been gone two weeks. And I think we showered her with enough love that she'll be back settled in San Francisco by the end of 2012. I'm calling it. Make it happen, darling, because I miss you already!

New Year's Resolution: Checking In

Mode of distraction: Body dysmorphia.
Distracting me from: Tending to my sunburned foot.

My New Year's resolution for the past five years or so has been the same vague, tired, cliche wish: to get in shape. I have a naturally fast metabolism and difficulty putting on any real weight, which garners me no sympathy...and no substantial muscle mass. Thus, getting into optimal shape has yet to really take place.

Also, I hate working out.

But this year, I have been faithfully going to the gym since the beginning of February and am actually getting to the point where I can see improvement. This presents a predicament: I had sort of assumed I had the sort of DNA that simply wouldn't allow this to happen, no matter what I did. There. Absolved of responsibility.

While I'm hardly busting out of my XS t-shirts, things are improving, so...fuck. I guess it just means I need to really work at it. How ugly. My goal this time, however, is more focused: I want to look like this by the time I turn in my thesis this coming August:

Guffaw. The reality is that I'll fall short of this, but it seems within physical reason...ish...to pursue nonetheless. I'm just gonna go ahead and ignore who this is, but which of you queens don't need the face to know the name? Also, since I've neglected the blog for so long, I knew I had to lure in all my lost readers (all 13 of you!) with a bit o' flesh. Sort of like a desperate TV show that has jumped the shark in its first season.

In other far more important news, Adrienne returned to San Francisco for a visit this week! It was a pretty glorious weekend in general (hence the sunburn), but I'll save that post for later this week. Gotta get back into the habit of doing this and making those distractions count for something moderately productive.

Off to either take advantage of the sun or take advantage of a napping boyfriend and get some thesis work done.

Or, likely, more distractions...