Let's get physical. Physical.

Why oh why for the love of all that is sexy am I becoming more and more concerned with every gurgle and blurp emanating from the teeming mass that is my body.  I'm doing regular BP checks and really REALLY thinking about and analyzing the consistency, frequency, and chemical makeup of every waste matter I produce, liquid or otherwise.  Seriously. If I become my uncle Tardy, Imma be pissed.  He'd spend hours regaling us with the inner workings of his guts.  I defy my genetics in this respect, I refuse to go down that road.  If this is an age thing, I hereby resolve to go to more concerts and start doing some bouldering, because eff that noise.

Buh-bah

I made the formal announcement that I'm leaving my current job today, and got a surprising outpouring of luvvins from the staffers, from "I'm crying at my desk now" to "I'm so happy for you, congratulations!" Officially lame duck NP now. So. Happy.  This is what heaven feels like. I haven't had my first chance to say "Leave that to the next NP, sucka" yet, but it's comin'. I can feel it.

In other news I'm still losing weight, or whatever. I lost the motivation to work out, and had to have my buddy come over and kick my ass around the living room, using those evil little personal trainer tricks they love so much.  "Just one more! That's it! You can do it! Ok, now just one more, last one, I swear! Great! Now just one more..."  I may have told her to eat shit and die, I can't be certain, it's all a blur.

The only major complaint I have right now is that my PVC's are driving me up one wall and down the other.  I think stress management techniques may require honing.  I'll go ready a few panes of glass.

Because Pt 2.

Isn't this fun? Enjoy.

Because after 2 years I still think your jokes are fucking hilarious.
Because you drive me absolutely nuts in new and exciting ways. Daily. And that is rare and awesome.
Because you always, ALWAYS keep me on my toes, more than anyone I've ever met.
Because you kick my ass at Scrabble. Every. Damn. Time.
Because your brain is so sexy it should be a controlled substance, sold on the black market with MDMA.
Because you think my physical exams are hot.
Because you listen as hard as most people talk, but you talk even harder.
Because whenever I make you laugh I can't help but feel a little proud of myself.
Because of your knack for seeing right through any defense mechanism I can muster.
Because I STILL get a schoolboy thrill whenever you refer to me as your boyfriend.
Because you don't mind my horrific table manners.
Because every day I'm with you it becomes quite clear I'm the luckiest asshole on earth.

That's why.

Because: Pt 1

Ok, I decided that instead of fighting the emotional rollercoaster, I said fuggit, might as well try to enjoy the ride. Embrace the crazy. So I am currently on a chemical upswing, enjoy the results:


Because after 11 years you STILL fucking think my lamest jokes are hilarious.
Because I never get tired of counting your freckles.
Because you think it's endearing rather than creepy that I cry at Muppet movies.
Because even when we are having the hardest times imaginable, there's still not one moment of it I'd trade away, for any price, because it's with you.
Because there simply does not exist a more enticing butt in the known universe.
Because the worst nightmare my subconscious ever cooked up to make me wake up in sheer terrified flopsweat was the one in which you didn't want to be mine anymore.
Because nobody ever has long enough to listen to how much I love you.
Because, when confronted with how savagely I am still enamored with you, language still comes up short and must beg for mercy and pardon because of its shortcomings.

That's why.

Aaaahh.

Ok that was cool. Just got a thank you note from a client and his lawyer, who I was working closely with to get the client some sorely needed benefits.  Now and again, just occasionally, you get to score a win. And on those days, I remember just why the hell I do this.

Stuff

I'll carry this around

I promise I won't put it down

You carry this too

Heavy, groaning truth

But we don't have to swallow all of it

And I know I should have the sense to spit

But I'm so thirsty now

Even mud feels good going down

And if I could get these ends to fuse

It might shut out my blackest views

That texture was so good

But I'd forget it if I could.

Winter.

I remember the sound
Of your November downtown.
And I remember the truth,
A warm December with you.
But I don't have to make this mistake.
And I don't have to live this way.
If only I would wait.

(It ain't mine, but this is the piece I always think of when I'm missing my pops.  This unprovoked emotional morning brought to you by Ortho Novum, the most complete estrogen fueled roller coaster available today. Ortho Novum: Go Fuck Yourself.)

IT'S ALL HAPPENING.

I've got the official job offer letter, to the tune of a bazillion more dollars a month than I'm making now. Score. I'm nervous, yeah, but really ready to move on. The only thing in my way: ANCC certification. I need to get through this process and the exam. Without destroying myself or others. Tricksy, considering I'm having trouble controlling my ire when it comes to this beaurocratic nonsense.  They offer no support, do not really prove competence, and basically just exist to feed itself and keep itself alive off of the quan of the working people in the field, like a nasty, malignant parasite up the ass of the nursing community.  But I fucking digress.

Still losing poundage and inches steadily.  There have been some, ah, challenging moments, but that's what gawd made heavy sedatives for.  I'm a bit nervous about this, honestly, because in order to lose at a steady, ongoing rate, I've had to reduce the amount I eat every week, at a rate faster than the program is telling me to do so. If I ate all that the program said I could, I'd be going backwards.  Instead I'm focusing on just exercising as much as I can, which for the last 3 days was a little tough for some reason.  But, new week, new day, new chance to get sweaty and disgusting. I can do about 50 pushups in a session now. I'm almost seeing some definition in my upper arms.  And today I got the first honest-to-monkeyballs unprovoked "Hey man, have you lost weight?" since beginning this process. That, I have to fucking admit, felt really good.  Also got a "Jake, your shirts are getting baggy, have you noticed?" from a colleague who did know I've been getting healthy on a program, but still, that was cool.

In which poo is flung.

It finally fucking happened. I hit my plateau.  No weight change at all this week, despite working out more frequently and more vigorously than ever before.  I was ready to defenestrate the whole damn program this morning.  I'm working harder and eating less than everyone around me it seems sometimes, and threw a right tantrum about it. It took longer than I would have expected to calm the fuck down again and grudgingly remove my considerable arse from my pity pot and re-enter reality. I think I may be having some mild hormonal help in my most righteous fit-throwing, given my estrogen therapy. The road to irritability is considerably shorter these days. I apparently look like I'm close to tears a helluva lot more frequently, even when I don't realize it/feel like it.  I may not be able to tolerate this therapy, if that keeps up. I'll give it a full month, see how it all pans out. It could also just be the fact that I'M FUCKING HUNGRY.  Recently, I seem to have regressed close to my first week on this horrific journey, wanting to punch a lot of faces in only after eating my computer screen.  My resiliency is definitely reduced a bit.  I hope this is just a temporary response to my hormone therapy, because if it's not, I either need to change it or prepare for the inevitable murder trials I'll have to endure.