Pygar is Dead! Long Live Pygar!

70 year-old actor John Phillip Law has died. Many of my beloved friends might remember him as the blind angel from Barbarella, otherwise known as "Pygar, Last of the Ornithanthropes."


The instant I heard the news, I knew it was my sacred duty to memorialize him. Rest in peace, Mr. Law. I will explore more of your film oeuvre as soon as that damned thesis is put to rest.

John Phillip Law's official website

John Phillip Law on imdb.

Regimen Revisited

On almost a daily basis, Astrid and I declare, sometimes while we're eating a grossly unhealthy meal (like last night's chicken strips at Bagdad Café), that "tomorrow, we start the Regimen!" The Regimen, in our couple mind's eye, has something to do with exercising more (or at all!), keeping up on grocery shopping so we have healthy stuff to cook at home, and eating reasonably. It's not a big deal, and yet why is it so hard to stick to? So last night, we declared the Regimen to be on again, and so far today I feel renewed committment to it.

I weighed myself this morning, and I'm now 221. Given my bike situation, it's not shocking that I've plateaued and gained another pound, but the main culprit right now is the decadent eating. In light of not having a bike, and also wanting to get into a more disciplined exercise routine in general, I've been contemplating joining a gym for the first time in my life.

As a fat girl, I've always feared gyms: why would I want to invite public ridicule upon my bouncing flabby body sweating on the elliptical machine? It brings back the terror of adolescence, when kids would make fun of me in P.E. class, and invokes the present-day fatphobia I still receive from strangers in public, like whenever I get called "fat-ass" while riding my bike too slowly for some shithead driving behind me. So the terror is historic, and current, and all too real in my experience. I'm 100% positive that other fat people stay out of gyms for exactly this reason. It's part of why the gym franchise Curves was invented, but I can't support them, what with the founder being a right-winger and giving significant contributions to anti-choice organizations. The other thing is that, well, I'm pretty fucking poor at this point in my life, and paying $30 to $60/month on a gym membership that I may or may not utilize seems like a very risky idea.

I'm going to check out the membership options at a few gyms in the neighborhood, and I'll report on my findings. I'm curious not only about fees and the amenities I get with my money, but I'm also very interested to get a sense for how their staff treat fat people, and what other fat folks have experienced at these places. Any tips on SF upper-Market, Lower Haight, and Mission area gyms would be welcome feedback for me.

Onward Ho - the Regimen begins (again!)

Stagnant

News flash: my bike broke. Yeah, kind of a bummer. I was in the habit of hiking my seat way up to compensate for a frame that didn't properly fit me, and I've managed to crack the seat tube, which in layman's terms means my frame is cracked and it's unsafe to ride. I'm feeling very resistant to spending money on a new bike, but I know I need to bite the bullet. I've been walking more, but I move my body much less without it. Not to mention I get a lot of my joy from my bike commute on a daily basis, so it's pretty essential that I get going on finding a new one. I bought my first cheap-ass used bike about five, five and a half years ago. It was promptly stolen. A few months later, some amazing friends of mine, who turned out to be the then-marital unit of Raquel and Chauncy, financed a new bike for me anonymously under the auspices of the philanthropic syndicate "The Hidden Hanukkah Helpers." Thus began my all too short relationship with my Raleigh C40. I've quite loved this bicycle, and it deserves a proper eulogy here. I rode that bike about 15 or 20 miles a week on commutes to work and school for about five years, took it on a trip through the Santa Inez wine country, learned these steep and trafficky San Francisco streets on its wheels. Sure, it was a little too heavy and hard to maneuver up and down the BART stairs, but it was mine, a simple machine to get me around and help me exercise whilst not polluting the environs. Good bye, bikey. You've been good to me.

Thesis Procrastination Log

1:00pm – Sat down at the computer. Opened up my thesis documents, including the work I've done so far and my rough outline. Organized my ipod and downloaded music.
1:18 – Printed a relevant article for the thesis. Chatted with two friends online.
1:40 – Prepared to read the article, then decided to stay with the writing. Instead of writing, I ate some cherries. Then I read a bit of the thesis draft so far. Got up to eat more cherries, looked in the fridge, and prepared to wash the cutting board. Realized I wasn't hungry and was clearly wasting time.
1:50 – Started this journal entry to document my procrastination. Anxiety level: yellow-orange.
1:57 – Attempted to write again. Continued re-reading what I've already written. Thought about some themes of death and chaos in Chagall's paintings and in Bunuel's films. Looked up shit online.
2:15ish – watched/skimmed through Un Chien Andalou on YouTube. Watched someone's short version of the film overdubbed with the Pixies' "Debaser."
2:30 – Began to write! Became extremely anxious; a knot formed in my chest. Wrote about three sentences. Anxiety level: red! Got up to walk around. Grabbed some relevant books and notebooks. Talked to Astrid about non-related logistical matters. Thought about eating lunch. I was actually hungry this time.
2:40 – Paused to ground myself by touching my "transitional objects" – a book my therapist lent me for my writing process and my silver baby cup. Looked up at the lovely birthday flowers Astrid gave me. Read a recent relevant journal entry to Astrid. Anxiety level: back down to yellow.
2:45 – Made myself some lunch. Ate it on the couch, then took a "break" during which time I chatted with Astrid, downloaded music, organized my school supplies, and ate vanilla ice cream out of the carton. Before I knew it it was...
6:00pm. Impressive, no?

"Mawwage is what bwings us together today...."

Same-gender marriage is legal in California! (for the moment.)

I don't have a specific desire to get hitched; nevertheless, the news made me well up with tears this morning. Read the SF Chronicle article for more details. Essentially, the state Supreme Court overturned Prop 22, a limitation on marriage passed by voters in 2000. The majority opinion today ruled that denying same-gender partners the right to marry and form a family with the same rights and responsibilities as male-female partners is unconstitutional. It's about fucking time.

The bad news, however, is that there will be an initiative on the California ballot in November attempting to change the state constitution to ban same-gender marriage for good. Take a look at the CitizenLink page, a right-wing political organization's take on the signature drive to qualify for the ballot and "represent God's will" on marriage.

People need to turn out to vote this bullshit down. Hopefully, since the stakes are so high in the Presidential election, progressives and friends and family of LGBT folks will turn out in large numbers to put down this hateful initiative. But there will be more battles to come, no doubt.

The Final Countdown

The last term has commenced, and it's the worst one yet, in terms of the content of the classes:

Advanced Family Therapy (not so bad)
Psychological Testing (blech!)
Psychopharmacology (double-blech!)

No, unfortunately I can't write you a prescription for good psychotropic drugs. I just need to know this shit for the licensing test, and to understand the meds my clients may be on (or may need to be on.) The psychopharm professor is a character, to say the least. He's a psychiatrist, and being that he's an MD and into the proprietary order of things, he's insisting we address him with the "Doctor" in front of his name. When he writes on the white board, each word is like two feet tall by four feet wide. I don't know if he does this for emphasis, or because he assumes we can't read normal sized penmanship. He talks through the entire class, and the only discussion permitted is if we have a question, which he will directly answer, and then move right back to his lecture notes.

The complete draft of the thesis is due the week of June 19. After that, I'll get feedback for revisions, and have to turn in the final draft by July something or other. If I had a page written for every time I complained about this thing out loud, I'd have a fucking PhD dissertation by now. I just have to say, once again, that I wish I'd decided to write about the psychology of Buffy rather than the death anxiety in intimate relationships. If there were a topic ripe for putting off, this would be it.

Apropos comic by Kelly at the Onion.

Progress Report #1

The numbers:
So it's been two months since I launched this site, and I still weigh exactly what I did when I started, 220 pounds.

The physical feeling behind the numbers:
I feel somewhat sluggish physically, haven't been riding my bike enough, and haven't been drinking enough water. This less than ideal physical state is counterbalanced somewhat by feeling emotionally uplifted by the end of the school term and other reasons you can read about at toothpicklabeling. So, all in all, my body and stress levels are feeling pretty decent.

The emotions behind the numbers:
On a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being least concerned or stressed about my weight and 10 being red alert-level anxiety and self-flagellation, I'd say I'm holding steady at about 4. I'd still like to lose some weight for overall bodily functioning, health, and to increase my physical fitness/stamina/mobility. But I'm not too upset with myself right now. It's been a really stressful several months with the school situation, and my crazy schedule has contributed to a lot of difficulty, beyond my regular resistance and bad habits, to preparing healthy meals and getting on my bike. I think now that I'm acclimated to the new schedule, and Spring/Summer is upon us, it bodes well for being more active and planning meals better.

More updates like this one whenever the muse strikes.

xo
Bree

Relief

Just turned in the last of my work for the Spring term. I'm on break this week, then I've got twelve more weeks til I have my masters degree, provided I actually turn in my thesis. Which is due in 6 or so weeks. Sigh.

It feels good, though. I'm in high spirits. My class is doing a little ritual together on Ocean Beach tomorrow, to mark the transition to the new university, to mourn the loss of our old school, and, well, just to celebrate each other.

I've also got Spring fever bad. I'm horny and high, like Don McLean sang in the 70s. Except that I'm not currently drinking whiskey nor rye. It's just a palpable oozing of libidinal energy, is all. Beware if you're around me: I might come on to you.