I've been airlocked, now what?

OnePlusYou Quizzes and Widgets

:-( The outlook is horrifyingly grim:

Congrats! You could survive for 1 minute 17 seconds !

In the first 30 seconds any fluid on the surface of your body would begin to boil due to lack of ambient pressure, this includes the saliva on your tongue and the moisture in your eyes. Your eardrums would most likely burst due to the pressure in your body trying to equalize with the vacuum outside. Unlike what some science fiction films have suggested, your body would not explode.

After the first 15 seconds you would lose consciousness. If you held your breath you could potentially stay alive longer but you risk pulmonary trauma. If you didn't hold your breath you'd pass out sooner, but your lungs might have a better chance of avoiding permanent damage.

The pressure in your veins would rise until your heart no longer had the capacity to pump blood, at which point you'd die.

Revisiting: Boots

I haven't created a new look at ShopStyle.com for a long time now (it's an incredibly fun timewaster, though, but I don't have all that much leisure time anymore). However, I've lately found myself revisiting this style more frequently:



It's all in the boots, people. I first became enamored of Doc Martens-style boots at the age of 15. I was in public school, and rules on footwear were much more lax than they've become in later years. I bought my first 10-eye-Doc Martens-imitation pair at a Payless Shoe Store and wore them daily: to school, to hang outs ... I have to confess that I even lost my virginity with those boots on my feet. They lasted more than enough, considering the wear and strain on them, and they were cast into the dark oblivion of my closet as soon as the sole went unglued. Later on, moths did their final work on them and they were rendered irreparable.

Later on I fell in love with another pair, this time off a Delias catalog. They were 14-eye with a raised toe, slightly glossier than what I was used to. They were incredibly uncomfortable at first, but I broke them in, and after that they were a total hit in my life. I loved those boots until their fiery demise five years ago.

I haven't owned a pair of proper boots since then. I guess I thought I had outgrown the boot-wearing phase, but this sudden obsession has proved me wrong. I bought a pair of knee-high boots the other day at Hot Topic:


They look incredibly cool, but I realized today they're not that awesome for walking long distances or for extended periods of time. Part of the boot-craving is to have a good pair of shoes to massacre on my upcoming trip to NYC. These boots do not fit the bill for such a purpose.:-(

So I'm back to square one on my quest for some nice, comfy Doc Martens boots. Maybe I should cut the crap and invest on the real deal. I think I'm ready to commit to boots again.

Adulthood Dementia

Since I turned 30, I've felt a certain amount of mania creep into my actions and intentions. I don't know if it was always so, and that I just became increasingly aware of my own nature, to this particular point in actuality in which I am sure I'm on the same league as hippies and hysterical moms. Or maybe things did change as I got to that figurative milestone of The 30s.

But as the mania set in, so did a ridiculous sense of prudence and shame, to the point that I check and double-check the things I write, the facts I disclose. And, yes, I have one particular friend to thank for that level of awareness(yes, you! You know who you are, you lurking scoundrel! I love you, though!), but I can't really let the blame rest solely on others. I guess that the more things I get to write, the less I want to put "on the page". The more complex I become as a person, the less I want to show about me.

A nitpicking of the public image, I guess. And it feels weird, because that's not the way it used to be. At the same time, however, the less I publicize, the more free I feel. Isn't that funny?

I guess that this strange sort of "writer's block" will come to a close as soon as I get my first assignment to write something for a class. I have a feeling that my writings will change, and the absence of the word will give way to a forest of twisted facts entwined with thick tendrils of fantasy and fiction.

OMG!!!1! I could cry!

... and a thousand voices cried with joy, and relief from a wait so long, lifetimes could be accounted for it.

Should I Stay or Should I Go?

Last two weeks have been intensely interesting, to say the least.

- I considered myself unemployed, my head about to burst with the effort of pushing through the last two weeks (those drasted two weeks' notice good employees always give).

- Then suddenly I'm not so unemployed anymore. All my worrying about whether I'd be able to study, if I'd be able to hold my job in spite of the fact that I'll be going on an already-paid-for vacation to NYC in July ... worrying simply because I quit without a safety net, and I was plummeting speedily towards the Sea of the Idle and the Impoverished. But then a great friend trusted me so much and had so much faith in what I can do, that she twisted things around the way I thought they couldn't be twisted.

I'm a happy (and very peaceful) camper now.

Other things are happening, though, and my life apparently refuses to be without a bit of drama and uncertainty. It's as if I am a magnet for trouble and ... well, let me not gripe too much about it. Drama and uncertainty is what makes your blood pump quicker. :-) I need all the livelihood I can get.

Little Notes #8: Next Few Weeks and What it Means

#1, next Monday is going to be, in some measure, surreal. Going back to 1995, the expectations, the nervousness.


#2, next two weeks, on the other hand, are going to be more real than I would like to deal with. Most people will not understand my reasons for the decision I've made. Some will come as far as to be annoyed. I even expect the random colleague to come across and demand answers and explanations, and I'm afraid I won't have a generally satisfactory answer.




#3, Mother's Day is drawing near, as well as my sister's birthday, all of it during a moment in life in which money is going to be a precious commodity. I think the best I will be able to do will be to offer them homemade food. My sister has been clamoring for some cheesy potatoes (potatoes au gratin, if you wanna get more gourmand in the description), and my mom has asked in more than one occasion for my pasta carbonara. I think I will oblige (and will probably throw in some homemade dessert for good measure). It's the best I can do.

Molting: Breaking the Shell

It's just begun, the process of shedding. In the coming days I'll break it out properly, but this is the exact moment I was waiting for for the last 10 years, and it's become much more complicated than I thought. Victories swish around the same glass as failures. The sweet and sour bubbles of reality fill my nose. I guess I'll have to drink first, to breathe the fresh air later.

This is the beginning of molting.

Self-Reminder

I just need to remind myself that "today" is not my life. That hours are just a fraction of a day, and that not all hours can be as pleasant as I wish they were.

I need to keep in mind that the clothes I wear to work and what I do for a living do not define me as a person. I am not my career, and this too shall pass.


I need to keep my inner peace in check today, because the lack of information and details in the orders given to me is not my fault. I can and will do the best I can do given the circumstances.

And as soon as I get home, I'll be able to sleep.

Tomorrow will be a better day.

Confession is Good for the Soul

I confess I've been spending increasingly excessive (and unnecessary) amounts of time in certain forum I will not name. It's usually not a problem, until a week ago. Someone I personally know opened a thread about plus-sized model Chloe Marshall, who was up for the title of Miss England.

I didn't post anything in this blog about this particular topic because:
1) I didn't have the time
2) I didn't know what to say
3) I believe that a single size 16 model won't make a true change in the beauty and health industry
4) It's a beauty pageant, for gossakes! And given point #3, it's such a biased event, with such a narrow spectrum of what beauty is, that I find all of it incredibly boring.

However, the girl that posted the thread thrives on pageants, celebrity gossip and your general menagerie of "girly" topics (makeup, diets, clothes). I decided to dive in when some other girls started talking about Miss Marshall's health.

The only facts stated in press releases are Miss Marshall's height and weight. This is, in my opinion, not enough data to go on to make a solid statement about the girl's health. However, I found out last week that there are more fans of the BMI index than believers in "God". And it seems a bit funny to me, considering that the BMI index was originally created by a Belgian mathematician for statistical purposes. It was not meant to be the end-all/be-all of health, much less was it meant to be the founding stone for physicians and health-care professionals to diagnose their patients' health.

Most people I know, however, swear by this scale. They don't believe that someone size 16 could be a healthy person. Miss Marshall said in her interviews that she eats sensibly and exercises regularly. I, for one, believe her, because I've seen girls the same size, young girls, beautiful girls, girls that eat normal amounts of healthy food (vegetables, fruit ... not junk food) and exercise normally as well. They are not naturally thin, and I really hope that these girls will understand that being a healthy size 12, for them, will always be more beautiful than a forced and emaciated size 5.

So, back to the forum thread, I immediately started voicing the opposing point of view, always the dissonance in the crowd. Obviously, most girls started voicing their own opinions, most of them based on the BMI index philosophy, most of them awash with fashion-industry culture and thought. But there was one, sister to the girl that started the thread, that right away pointed spears at me as an individual. Not so much my opinions, but the reason for them. Her specific words, and I quote, were: "Girl, instead of a stick on your shoulder, you have a sequoia tree."

Of course, she kept on at it, and the barrage didn't stop when I clarified that this was more of a cause than a personal issue. She made sure to always state that my points of view were an exclusive product of my body and image issues.

Well ... I wish I had had this blog post that day. Later on that day a friend of mine read the thread and insisted that I did have to lower my weight, of course, for health issues.

And this is the thing: they're both right. My friend is completely right and I know where he is coming from: concern, worry, affection. I appreciate it, the same way I appreciated every single comment I received the last time I touched the subject. Most of you who read this blog mean well, and I thank you for your attention and friendship.

But the girl at the forum, my ex-roommate's sister to be more precise ... well, she may be right. That afternoon, after all was written and read, I had to sit down and come to terms with the fact that I have as much a body and image issue as I did when I was an anorexic 16-year-old. But I do not appreciate her intentions. The way she expressed herself about the things I said helped me realize that she was more bent on hurting me or making me feel bad about being fat (and she probably thinks I am in denial about it too) than she could have intended for her words to be enlightening or helpful.

Whatever her reasons for being such a bitch (which she was, no se puede tapar el cielo con la mano), I suspect it has less to do with difference of opinion and more to do with things that went down a year ago. And that, to me, seems petty, shallow and rude.

However, I gotta thank her. That afternoon I cried a bit, because coming to terms with issues that have been standing there for 14 years is not easy. What my friend said made me realize that I do have to do something. But what that bitch said gave me the strength to actually START doing it.

So, thank you, bitch, whether you read this or not. You did me MUCH LESS harm than you probably intended. :) Isn't it ironic?

Uneven Score

I don't usually do this (post quiz results), but this is so wrong! And worse yet is the fact that I'm proud! I could take on a whole kindergarten classroom! Yay!

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