Tuesday, March 12, 2013
I am one tired puppy.
Yesterday was a LONG day. It was an enormous job interview, and I didn't even see everyone I was supposed to! Hence, even if all is positive and wonderful and lovely, I would STILL have to have a phone screen with this last dude.
That would be my third phone screen, on top of six hours of interviewing which included a one-hour presentation by me.
I cannot begin to tell you how beat I am. But how do I feel about it all? Does the linked song provide a clue, perhaps?
In the morning, I had four separate interviews. I think they were mainly good. One was a woman I had phone screened with, and I had thought I'd blown the phone screen, but obviously didn't. I felt similarly in the interview, and then reminded myself that that was what I'd felt before, so it was likely to be all right.
Then I met, erm, someone (it's blurring together), then a gal who would be a peer. The peer mentioned that she lives in Somerville. Well, I had been in Somerville the day before, running a 5K. baevents.com/rasnaheireann/ Hence we suddenly had what to talk about (she had not run it). But it was a good icebreaker. Then I met the only man I met with at all that day; he was more of a mathematical kind of a person and gave me a scenario and asked me what I'd do. When I told him, he said that that was exactly what he had done - apparently a part of this job is to revive that older project (as you can imagine, I cannot say too much about such things).
Then it was time for lunch. My hoped-for boss took me. She's another Somerville resident, and asked me about the race. It seems she's also a runner but she didn't run it, either. But there's also a gym in the building, at the end of the day, would I like to see it? Sure. I think I handled the lunch okay. I got a sandwich that turned out to be messy, and it turned out to be served with fries. By that time, I was already pretty fried, and my only coherent thought was to have them hold the bacon. But the fries? They were meh. There was a time when I would have cleaned my plate of even meh fries. Instead, I ate my turkey and avocado sandwich and had maybe ten of the meh fries and that was good enough. Got back and washed my hands really well.
On to the presentation.
I could pick anything I wanted, and I did not have a deck of slides from anything, so I had to do it all from scratch. I selected Social Technographics ( empowered.forrester.com/tool_
consumer.html ) for my topic. It is, essentially, about how and why people use the web in different ways.
I ran slides. I pointed. I paced (I hate sitting for such things). I pounded the table. I modulated my voice. I answered questions (and I even clarified an answer in one of my thank you notes). I am thinking that part went really well but who knows.
Then, one more interview ('cause I hadn't had enough of 'em, apparently) and then I would have had a phone screen with the guy who ended up being stuck in the air, flying back from Detroit.
Then I got my little tour of the little gym, and my hoped-for future boss remarked that she had offered to lots of people to show them the gym but I was the only person who had taken her up on it. We shook hands, she gave me directions to get onto Route 128 (even though I have a GPS) and she told me I'd hear this week, most likely, as to whether I'd be talking to this guy.
My impressions are that they are very thorough but perhaps too much so. Sometimes, you have to punt, you know. And sometimes there are deadlines and you just can't do everything according to Hoyle. So that's all kind of strange. They were recently purchased by a company in the Midwest (I had originally thought that the new parent company was overseas, but they aren't; they're in the Mountain time zone) but the transition is still not complete. Those sorts of transitions can be troublesome; my experience is that those usually mean layoffs. Hence I could be going into a situation that could end abruptly.
The commute was okay; I had been worried that it would be a real pain. The gym is okay, but the area is flat and seems safe and well-plowed, so outside walking during lunch might be a better way to get in fitness minutes. While I was there, someone had brought in homemade Irish soda bread and put it in the break room, but I just ignored it as if it were a fancy paperweight with raisins.
Do I want this job? I think it could be a productive way to spend some time, and I could learn quite a bit. Is it my passion? No. Is it exactly what I want to do? No. But it will more than pay my bills until I can fulfill my passion.
But if I'm going to be hired, I have to go through another damned phone screen.
Monday, March 04, 2013
Many doings here, in Jespahland.
I had an in-person interview today. And on Wednesday, I'll have a second phone screen with a different place. Progress, no?
Both are in data analysis. Hence I want to do neither.
But my current gig is a startup and they just don't have enough bucks.
I am not asking for enough for Caribbean vacations. I am asking for enough to pay my mortgage.
But the one from today was/is a temp gig until the end of the calendar year. Hence there is some appeal there - make some cabbage and hold my nose and do the work, but at least there's an end in sight.
Now, contrast that with the whole weight loss experience.
We don't interview for it - it just happens in the sense that we have metabolisms that begin to falter, or we don't eat right or we don't work out enough or whatever - there are all sorts of reasons for becoming overweight, but we get there. Kinda doesn't matter if we take the train or the trolley, eh? So we get there. And we might try on various methodologies. We work hard and, perhaps we prove ourselves or the methods become proven or whatever.
And we go on for a while, and then, eventually, well, what?
It's not a short-term contract with a hard and fast end date. It's a permanent gig. It's not something where there is an end to the behaviors - the behaviors go on. And that can sometimes be a little hard to take.
After all, we want to get back to "normal", right?
So, what's normal? What's the end point? What's the part that happens after?
It's not a backslide into older behaviors, for then you get back to Square One and you've gotta do it all over again. That's no good. But it's not necessarily doing the exact same thing, day in, day out, forever. After all, our bodies change, and sometimes things (seemingly inexplicably) stop working. Or we tear our hair out, hating the rut. Or age or injury or whatever conspire to make it so that we really can't continue to do the precise, exact same thing until we finally keel over.
It's little differences, and strangenesses, and quirks, yes, and a boatload of creativity and improvisation. We roll with the punches, as the scale seems to, at times, have a mind of its own, or our measurements feel less than optimal, or that pair of jeans that fit just fine last year are suddenly too tight. Or too loose. For even the positive serendipitous changes are still changes.
In some ways, I suppose, this journey is a job. So let us make it a good job, that we do with pride and creative spirit. One where we don't keep hitting the alarm clock every morning because we hate getting up and going to it. One where we pull together and buy into its success.
Monday, February 25, 2013
We live in a strange world.
We are in contact.
But, in many ways, we aren't.
Case in point. I am FB friends with a lot of people, including people from my past. Got a notification of a birthday. Went to write on the wall. And, you know, you expect to see a ton of birthday wishes. instead, there was an RIP wish.
I did some sleuthing. It seems this person died on January 13th (and the birthday would have been February 21st). And so the information came a good 6 weeks too late.
It's so odd, learning of this sort of news in this particular manner. This person was 61, and had had health issues. Such things feel weird but, deep down, they shouldn't be utterly shocking. After all, even the health nuts among us can still get cancer. And anyone can be hit by a bus, yes?
And it makes me think of others, who I've looked up, with varying degrees of success. The suicide. The physics professor. The doctor. The missionary in Japan. The city manager. The writer. The aviation engineer. The artist. The independent filmmaker. The insurance broker. The ex-con.
These are not all exes, I might add. There are people - male and female - who I've lost touch with, but I've stalked online a bit. Some have written back when I've hit "contact". Others have not bothered, or the contact page hasn't been maintained and, instead, goes nowhere, and I end up wondering about that.
It's a game a lot of us play, and there's nothing wrong with playing it. Hell, it might be, for some people, the reason why they're not being hired. You should Google yourself, particularly if you've got a common name, and check out your own online reputation. And repair it, if you can.
And you can go out and make your own reputation as well. I own my own name as a domain, and I use it.
And there is your rep here, too, even if you just use a screen name and never friend people elsewhere and keep SP thoroughly separate from everything else in your life.
So, what kind of SP member are you, really?
Do you cheer on others? Or wallow in your own misery, hoping others will pick you up? Do you add as many helpful tips as you can about how to do this? Or do you just sit and complain about what you feel you cannot do?
Now, there is nothing wrong with venting or complaining. Wallow, if you must. Hey, I'm not stopping you. And there can be days when it really feels like all of that.
When the wallowing and the complaining and the venting take over, and are the only thing that you are offering, what does that really say? I am well aware that things are not always sunshiny. I vent quite a bit here, m'self. And maybe my own words don't stand up to post mortem scrutiny.
For that is what I am thinking about here. When all is said and done - and I mean REALLY all said, and all done - what is being left here, in this great community?
A big part of the SP journey is helping others. It's giving support, and encouragement, and passing on our knowledge. It's setting a good example, and it's offering a sympathetic ear, or perhaps a shoulder to cry on, if necessary.
So I ask you, are you doing that?
I do not ask you questions that I don't ask myself, so I can tell you, I am definitely asking myself that.
Just what are we leaving behind for each other? What legacies of help and caring are we building? A burden shared is a burden halved, so let's build them together.
Monday, February 18, 2013
In all fairness, it's not the second verse. It's actually the fifth.
See, in three days, I will be celebrating my fifth year sparking.
Egad, what can I tell ya?
I can tell you that, five years ago, I did not expect to be here. I did not expect to be on the lifetime website plan. I did expect that losing would take a while. I'm not so sure exactly what I thought about my lifetime, though.
I expected a loss of, if I was lucky, perhaps 48 pounds/year. 4 pounds/month is slow and reasonable. I did considerably better than that, and am down a good 120 or so even with backsliding. At my lowest, I was down about 160, but it did not take me 3 years to get there - it took me more like a year and a half.
And what would I tell the person just starting out, whether that was me or, perhaps, you?
I'd say that this is going to take a while. And even the easy stuff might get hard. But the corollary to that is that the hard stuff often gets easy. It's something of a trade-off. I'd say that there are days when all I want to do is eat whatever, and I sometimes, in all honesty, miss that. I would also say that I don't miss my seatbelt being too tight. I don't miss size 26, or even size 18. I don't miss huffing up the stairs.
I'd tell you that I'd like to be younger, to be sure. I would have preferred to have started off here, at this weight (235.6 this morning) instead of the 346 I started at. But then I'd be starting at 50 instead of 45, and that's harder.
I would mention that there are days when motivation runs thin. There are days when it runs high. Try to do more when you're inspired to, and kinda save it up for the times when you aren't quite so inspired. I'd tell you to measure, too, in addition to weighing, as measurements can be a bit of good news when everything else seems to be bad news.
I'd tell you to lift weights, even small ones, for they not only help to sculpt you and give you fat-burning muscle, but they also impart and air that you can do anything. I'd tell you to race, too, whether it's running or biking or swimming or whatever and forget that you are perhaps not as fast as you would like to be, or even if you come in last. Just go out there and do it and you will gain some measure of invincibility from that, too.
I'd tell you to forgive yourself and not beat yourself up for imperfections. I'd tell you that you are going to screw something up, big time, whether it's miscounting some favorite thing that turns out to be horribly bad, or doing an exercise wrong and hurting yourself by accident, or you'll take a rest day that maybe even turns into a rest month. But through it all, you are human and, yeah,, you screw up, but any day you wake up and get up in the morning is a day that you can start over again and fix all that.
I'd tell you that consistency can be dull, but it means you're getting into a habit. But the paradox of all that is that you can't get into too much of a rut, as that stalls things, so you need to sometimes shake it up. I'd tell you that you should be prepared to watch while on vacation, and work out in the weirdest of places, because you might take a holiday, but your body often has other plans.
I'd, finally, tell you that what you have to say is important, and it's worthwhile, and YOU are worthwhile, and that's not measured with a scale or a tape.
Monday, February 11, 2013
It snowed a bit here - have you heard?
Seriously, we got 25" of the stuff, according to the official measurements from nearby Logan Airport. This was the view out of our front yard after my husband had done the first 45 minutes of shoveling.
Currently, after a combined 7 hours and 45 minutes (I only did 2 hours of that; I'm such a slacker), things look like this.
It is still ugly, and I easily have my cardio set for the remainder of the week.
It's okay. I actually like shoveling.
A few reasons -
* it's a way to get outside on an otherwise impossible day. I don't belong to a gym these days, so it's either this or walk, and walking means the street, and cars on some ice. Not a good combo.
* it's extremely good exercise. I get a caloric burn of nearly 700 calories in an hour, whereas I walk for an hour and a half and get maybe a third of that.
* it accomplishes something. See, this is what bores me about the gym. I recognize that fitness is an accomplishment unto itself, but it can often feel like, quite literally, the road to nowhere. Shovel the driveway and the rewards are considerably more tangible and immediate. It FEELS like something.
I suppose this is why I also like racing; it's got a tangible ending to it, and a tangible reward - tee shirts and sometimes medals, too!
What is also extraordinary, right now, is that, for the most part, I feel just fine. It was, I admit, less than perfectly pleasant to lift weights this morning. But it wasn't awful, and I am more than ready and willing to return to the task at hand this afternoon, once I've done my work for the day.
Bring it on. I'm ready.
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