Creative drain

Last night I went to fencing. In and of itself, that was a great way to spend an evening, other than the now-undeniable fact that I need to wash my gear. Febreze will only take you so far, kiddies. There comes a point when everything is so sweat-drenched and revolting when you actually need to wash yo bidness. My gear is at that point.

Anyway, I fenced some (literally!) world-class fencers and lost to them, which was ok because I'm not that good. Yet. I was able to go down with a fight, at any rate. But I was talking with my coach after, just trying to think how I can fix my game so I don't make all the same mistakes next time. He said a couple interesting things, some good, some to think about.

The thinking first. It wasn't out-and-out criticism, and I definitely wasn't smacking my head into the steering wheel the whole way home going, "IIIIIIdiot!!" He said I wasn't creative enough with my actions on the strip. Now... that was the body, mind, and soul of my game when I started out with epee at NYU. I learned how to parry, I did point control, and then they let me loose on a strip and said, "Hit the other girl. Beat her. Feel free to make her cry." Check, check, and check. The good bits about that (lack of) strategy:

- I was a total wildcard. No one knew what the hell to do with me.

- My timing and footwork were brilliant because I couldn't do anything else. My counter-time stop hits were like lightening. I learned how to flinch and simultaneously extend my arm and usually score. At the very least, a double touch. Super-aware of where every part of my body was.

- When I got angry, I LET myself get that way, then I just beat the shit out of whoever got on the strip in front of me. I was unstoppable. And kind of crazy. But I won a lot of bouts pissed off.

The bad aspects of my old game:

- To be unstoppable, I had to get furious. This is hard to just do unless I'm having a really bad month PMS-wise. I had to lose to really bad people and feel like shit about myself before I could get angry enough. This is neither a healthy nor a sound reliable strategy.

- If someone could read my bullshit, I didn't have anything underneath it.

I decided I was going to revamp my game from the bottom up, which I've been doing. For instance, I was going to stop frenetically bouncing around because ultimately it's a waste of energy, and I'd also stop leaning forward. So, I tried keeping my back heel down a little more and sitting more upright in my en guarde. Leaning/frenetic bouncing = gone. I did find a middle ground, because if you sit too upright and don't bounce at all, you lose a lot of mobility. Paired with lots of rope jumping, it's becoming very effective in keeping me grounded - literally - but mobile.

Generally, I think it's going well, because the good bit of the convo was about how I don't have any compulsive tendencies on the strip in a bout situation, save for relaxing a little too much when I retreat. Some people have a tendency start with their blade high and then cut over and finish low. So you nail them over their shoulder. Others compulsively take a given parry when offered the blade. So you know they're going to do it; you disengage and score. Another great thing about last night was I angled my blade the tiniest bit, and all of a sudden, I was landing wrist touches again. Wrist touches over the blade, under it, on the side... it was awesome.

But that thing about needing to be more creative on the strip. I was talking to Danny, and the truth of it is that at the end of the day (and even the end of weeks) I just feel so drained and beaten down mentally, that summoning the effort to be in any way creative is so Herculean, I just can't. To try to think anymore than absolutely necessary, to try to be more than just a functioning body is nearly impossible. Day in day out, I'm working on the same problem in lab. I've been running these wretched experiments for going on 4 years now. It's very hard to describe the incredible lack of desire to do anything at all. The most incredible boredom and laziness combined with feeling like the world owes me huge for the trouble I'm going to. I'm not saying these feelings have anything to do with fairness or logic, they're just there, and it sucks when I want to do well at fencing because they're quite a hindrance. It's one thing to not like what you're doing and feel beaten down at work, but why does it have to bleed over into my general well-being and infect the things that I really love?

Oh well. Try harder, I guess... because that's about all I can do.

Car stickers.

I very strongly suspect that all those people who run marathons "for themselves" are for shit. If that was truly the case, if they were genuinely running just for themselves, why bother putting those obnoxious as all fuck "26.2" stickers on their cars? And with the huge number of vehicles I see locally as well as on the I-95 northeast corridor sporting said proclamations of athletic expenditure, the premise that this unprecedented increase in marathoners is bolstered by strictly personal improvement is absolute bunk.

I was cut off in the Trader Joe's parking lot by some asshole with one of those stickers. Rotten bastard.

Oh, and all those other stickers loudly advertising obscure acronyms for various locales. How pretentious can you get? I really don't care how well-traveled some random stranger is if the best they can do is put a sticker on their car because they're going to cut me off anyway. Seriously, I want to get a random letter generator and make bullshit stickers that mean nothing. And cut people off.

Rainrainrainrain...

This rain is unbelievable. If you, like me, are situated in the mid-Atlantic/northeast region of the US, you are most likely growing mildew, like the 3-toed sloths in the jungle who move so slowly that their coats turn green due to algal growth on their fur. The only pro is that I'm hoping this trend will reappear this winter, with appropriately cold temperatures so there will be mountains upon mountains of snow instead of acres upon acres of mud and militant mosquitoes.

In anticipation of the winter and the snow, I found a cool pattern for a nifty-looking hat. Also, a while back my mom got me like 5 skeins of this random shiny mohair blend wool. ("It was $2 a skein!! I mean, $2! What a bargain! Here's five, I got another 5 for myself.") The lacey pattern looks very nice, and I think the shiny filamentously fuzzy yarn will rock. This will likely take me until it's cold again, anyway, given the amount of time I can actually dedicate to knitting.

Maryland really, really sucks.

The other day, I thought to myself, "Damn, it is humid out here, and it's only the beginning of June. What's this stupid swamp going to do in August when it's run out of humidity because it spent it all in June? How can this place possibly get even more humid than it already is?"

Well, Maryland weather happily obliged, answering my question quite enthusiastically. It can get more humid by actually forming clouds at ground level. It can be raining AND be misty/foggy AND be wicked sticky and warm. This brings me to another thing pertaining to the humidity; we do not have an exhaust fan in our bathroom. We do, however, have a window. But this window's sill happens to be below chest-level for me, and it opens from the bottom. So, I can't use while I'm physically in the shower with the lights on in the bathroom, we can't use it when it's freezing cold in the winter because who the hell wants to take a shower with an open window in the middle of a cold, cold night in January, and in the heat of the summer, I'm not sure where it's more humid, in the bathroom or outside. And who wants to waste the air conditioning?

So, we can only use this supposedly ventilating window if I'm dressed/not in the shower for a couple weeks before it gets wicked hot and a couple weeks before it gets too cold. This window is supposed to be a substitute for an exhaust fan. It is not. Our ceiling is covered in mold, and we have even begun to grow mildew in the toilet bowl. Dear lord, it is revolting. Oh, and we've already asked them to replace the dry wall around the tiles in the shower because it's gone completely moldy. We have requested an exhaust fan. We shall continue to request said exhaust fan and complain about the blatantly sizeist "ventilation window" that I can't use if I don't want to flash the inhabitants of this bloody stupid place.

Which I don't want to do. Ever.

You know what we have here that sort of comes with the territory of living in a fucking swamp? Mosquitoes. Stupid fucking mosquitoes. Mosquitoes and mold. Welcome to Maryland. That's what they should have on the license plates; mosquitoes and mold. They have a heron on one of them, and I haven't seen a single fucking heron since I moved down here. But mosquitoes? Oh yes, tons. Everywhere.

Feminism these days..

So, feminism... is it over?  

Absolutely not.  The past couple days I came across some articles online that really got me furious.  The first was a bullshit article from askmen.com entitled "Why Women Can't Be Bosses."  It's amazing that shit like this can even get aired.  What's even more amazing is that according to the comments, this trash can get 44% approval.  It's mind-blowing.  The only thing I could think of was, "Wow, our patriarchal society is literally imploding before our eyes.  The 'dudes' are getting desperate."  I realized that this utter crap will soon be turned on me full force, when I enter the workplace as a dynamic female scientist with a PhD.  

And then I came across another gem, scans of a how-to book for anti-choice evangelists to bring the undecided over to their ban-abortion stance.  The thing that gets me is not their stance on abortion, because if you don't want one, that is 100% fine with me.  What's really disgusting is the constant reminders to fake concern for the woman, which implies that it's not natural for these dregs of humanity to consider the woman as a human being outside of her capacity to bear children.  Plus, there are gross scientific mistakes in it.  Eclampsia, for example.  Bedrest does NOT cure it.  If it's really severe, the only "cure" is an abortion.  

One good thing coming from this Dr. Tiller murder is that women are coming out of the woodwork and sharing their late-term abortion stories.  If it's a case of a detected anencephaly (the brain of a fetus failed to develop; see the wikipedia entry on it), conjoined twins, an infection due to leakage of water, thank goodness these women are speaking up.  My grandma told me that when Roe v. Wade passed, she felt an ineffable sense of relief despite being married with children.  For her, it meant that a huge burden was off the female population.  I believe that 100%.  

When I was 11 or 12, my mom told me that if I ever got pregnant, she would take me to have an abortion if I needed one.  It wasn't an invitation/permission to be wild and act irresponsibly (she made that very clear), but it was something that made me feel much more comfortable.  I had a backup, no matter what.  After that, my grandma told me that if I ever needed an abortion, I didn't even have to tell my mom or dad; she'd take me and wouldn't even tell my grandfather.  It was like huge, deep, soft pillows were always underneath me as I wobbled along growing into a sexually mature adult.  I didn't behave irresponsibly, but I always knew that no matter what, I always had a back way out.  I could always reclaim my life and walk away from a man, the same way men could walk away from an accidentally pregnant girlfriend pre-Roe v. Wade.  I would never be beholden to him.  I'd never be that person, as long as I took care of the being smart in school/productive in life thing.  I was on equal footing.  I could throw myself into the fray, and I was going to come up grinning no matter what because I was equipped to handle everything, even if I made a mistake.

It's just so... I don't know, improbably nauseating to think that there is a group of people who want to take that away from future generations of women.  Oh, and the anti-contraception argument?  I'm chalking that up to a crazy Puritanical I-must-suffer-life-is-a-veil-of-tears attitude that I can't for the life of me ever hope to identify with.

And I'm not sorry about that at all.

summer un-vacation

This is the end of summer vacations for me.  I thought that when I was working for Pepsi THAT would be the end of summer vacations.  But with top-notch BBQs (really, they were very awesome) every other Thursday and half-day Fridays, it wasn't half as draggy as grad school.  In grad school, everything's closed.  The co-op, where I can get my bean burritos and dried fruit and nuts to snack on should I get hungry, is closed.  It's so sad.  However, despite the lack of students and good hippy vegetarian non-mall-foodcourt food, there are still rarely enough treadmills in the gym.  I got stuck to the stinky guy who smelled like sweated-out garlic and curry and wayyy too much aftershave.  At least the smell kept me concentrating on not losing my lunch instead of how boring running is.  

Maybe I should just be thankful that I wasn't behind someone who had the running farts.  (You know, with every step, thhbthtbh, thhbthtbh, thhbthtbh... don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about because you do.  And if you don't, you're lying.) 

Anyway, I'm strongly resisting any kind of routine (which suits me).  That being said, I need to fit in a good sports bra shopping escapade.  Last weekend, when the gym was all but deserted Saturday morning, I sloped into the weight room with my jumprope.  In between sets, I jumped rope for 1 minute, and there's nothing quite like jumping rope in front of a full-length mirror to make you realize some pretty idiotic things.  

(1)  I look COMPLETELY RETARDED jumping rope.  

(2) I need better sports bras because if I put this off for much longer and continue jumping rope, my chest will be in my pockets by age 40 and in my shoes by age 60.

(3) I have some pretty tight calf muscles with some nice definition.

(4) The same cannot be said for my thighs.

However, I'm used to looking completely retarded and the rope jumping is a pretty brilliant and difficult workout so I won't stop.  Instead I'll keep jamming in gym time between experiments in lab, trying to fence, and generally hoping for the best. We shall see...

Oh, and I got my blades today!  They're all shiny and pretty and new, and I'm gonna hook them up and mess around with them!   I'm so excited.  :)  

You've got to be effing kidding me.

In "downtown" Bethesda, a DC suburb with a collective yuppie stick up its ass (and home to one of my favorite restaurants, Sasso), the purchase price of a "downtown" condo is LITERALLY ON PAR WITH MANHATTAN PRICES. So is the dearth of parking in that area.

Holy crap, people.

Be-thbthtbhtbhtbhtbhtb-esda does not equal Manhattan no matter how you rearrange the equation. Would you rather live in chain store yuppie central, where life stops promptly at 8 PM on weeknights and by 11 on weekends, where a ticket to the opera is $40 for the cheap seats, or in the middle of life itself, where you can get a good slice of pizza at 4 AM and the cheap seats to the opera w/ live orchestra are $17 (they are; check the family circle at the Metropolitan Opera)?

Dear readers, I take Manhattan! To drink and live in.

Bethesda: http://www.thechaseatbethesda.com/pricing.asp

Manhattan: http://realestate.nytimes.com/sales/detail/185-1711871/new-york-ny-usa/1-beds/200000-700000-price/PRICE-HIGH-sort/40-p/44-1408440--1501-0003EM--44-1529694--297-0016308--46-1044429--185-1711871--185-1629716--185-1698583--88-350990--46-1035272-ls/2535-t

I'm not looking to buy, especially not something at that price; I'm simply illustrating a point. Very vividly, I think...