I've discovered something rather embarrassing about myself.

I'm delicate. Really delicate. I work hard to maintain a physical and mental equilibrium and just about anything can tip me over the edge.

If I'm physically uncomfortable for any amount of time I'm liable to throw up. I'm pretty sure that's why running 5ks makes me feel so ill. My body isn't used to it and doesn't like it. As a side note, this is also the reaction I had the first few times my optometrist put contacts in my eyes when I was just a young thing. He had to numb my eyes before I could have contacts in them without needing to hold the barf bucket. Needles, bad smells, icky sights (e.g., mold, broken bones, blood) all set me to dry heaving.

I think I may be even more emotionally delicate than I am physically delicate.

I'm pretty sure everybody knew but me. It's embarrassing enough to be delicate. It's even more embarrassing to not know you're delicate. All this time I've been wandering around pretending to be a strong sort of person

I've been finding my life particularly overwhelming of late, with no apparent reason. Easy things have become hard and hard things are impossible. I had a brief verbal scuffle with the Ma earlier today over the issue of not having quite enough soup and it resulted in some bad feelings on both sides. Over soup. Later, I nearly started crying in the middle of thigh work during my workout. It was so hard and awful and I didn't want to do it anymore.

I've known for several months that I'm a delicate sort of person. Knowing isn't helping me handle my delicate nature any more effectively than I did before. It's frustrating.

Struggle.

I recently received a very small package from the Little Brother--the best thing that's happened to me in the past few weeks. I'm not allowed to open the package for about another month. I don't mind. It makes me smile just to see it sitting on my desk, waiting. My tiny package is a small piece of the Little Brother. I love having even that small bit of him around.

Some Reasons Why

This is what I did this morning. Can you spot me? Apparently they occasionally sneak pictures and post them on social networking sites for all the world to see. Fabulous Anna and I have been rather faithful as of late. Don't be too impressed. At the end of class with our bodies sinking into the carpet (why do they want us to sink into the carpet when we finish? because our exhausted bodies aren't worth anything else?), Anna told me she was definitely getting less flexible and I told her it was consistent because I was sure I was less fit. With my right cheek and half my nose squished by the floor and my achy muscles crying all over, I briefly considered spending the next few weeks (or the next few forevers) being as committed to not going as I have been to going. Bleh.

I've spent somewhere between 8 and 10 hours today working on my master's thesis. I've been breaking only for essential things. Like lunch. And dinner. I'm *this close* to being done. Less time than I've put in today ought to finish it up, but I have no desire to work on it anymore. Ever.

These are some reasons why saddling up and getting 'er done is worth it:

• After I finish I won't have to work on it again. Ever. Just like I want.
• No more tuition payments.
• It will be the end of time wasted because of my thesis. So often of late I haven't allowed myself to do things because I ought to have been working on my thesis, but I had no desire to work on my thesis, so instead I would do nothing at all.
• After I finish, I can refer to myself as Master Meg. I'm thinking of having a nametag made up. Maybe with a Marvelous thrown in for good measure?
• I won't have to spend my days on the computer working and my evenings and weekends on the computer schooling. I sort of detest my computer.
• It's November and November is Nanowrimo. I've told myself that as long as I have thesis work to do I can't do any Nanowrimo-ing, which means I am currently about 7,000 words behind.
• I've given myself permission to buy a new pair of boots in celebration after I've finished this thing up. Anything under $200 is fair game. A slightly ridiculous amount since my shoes are more often clearance $10 buys than anything else. Or maybe I'll buy two pairs of boots. And a scarf. And maybe some gloves.

All good reasons. Off I go to do some more thesis-ing. I promise I'm not kind of crying about it.

For the Love of Apples

I love apples.

I love love love apples.

Gala, Fuji, Golden Delicious, Jonagold, Pink Lady, Cameo.

An apple day often isn't nearly enough.

I recently checked this book out from the library. I'm in love. I plan to purchase a copy soon that I can keep forever and always. There is so much  to know about apples and so much more to do with apples than I knew could be done.

I may secretly wish to be Amy Traverso.

I made my first batch of apple butter using a recipe from this book, a poor example of the diversity of recipes featuring apples. I've been eating it on everything, including my finger. It's crazy delicious, was easy peasy, and will be a fall staple in my home forevermore.

One Small Piece at a Time

I'm in love with the way I smell today. A strange thing maybe, but smells are important to me, and the way I smell is particularly important. I'm obsessed with chewing gum, not because I love gum but because I will not be caught with bad breath. I got out a new bar of soap this morning and it smells delicious and so now I smell delicious.

I've been organizing my world one small piece at a time. I would prefer to make some rather large changes, but it seems the big things are out of my control. I've stopped thinking about them and am instead concentrating on the things I can do. Like organizing my bathroom drawers.

There's lots of information and videos online about how to organize your bathroom drawers. Who knew, huh? A lot of it wasn't helpful. Turns out my bathroom needs are pretty sparse compared to the. I purchased three of these in different colors. Because they were made to keep things from sliding they don't move around in the drawer even without adhesive and they keep my things from sliding. I now have perfectly organized bathroom drawers with a bit of sunshine and happiness tucked inside.

Yesterday it snowed for the first time this year. In true celebratory fashion, I got my first cup of hot chocolate. It was delicious, a treat I don't often allow myself these days. I've been eating healthy. I mostly only consume the right things these days but not enough of them. Another part of my life I can bring into order. My dear friend M.C. told me about how much using a chore chart has helped her bring order to one small piece of her life.

So, I made myself a chart, a healthy eating chart. It reminds me how much of each yummy thing I need. Each day I can cross stuff off according to my levels of consumption. Or, if I'm feeling creative I can practice coloring in the lines.

Pretty fun, huh?

The Ma picked this up for me off the bargain shelf at Barnes & Noble. I love the Barnes & Noble bargain shelves. I can't tell you how much time I've wasted browsing the bargain books at Barnes & Noble.

The Ma brought this home for me, proudly showing off the bargain sticker. She was so excited. It's pretty elementary and there's not a lot of content (maybe a couple of hours worth), but it's funny to listen to on the way to or from work. And there's nothing wrong with a little extra French practice. Most of the French studying I do these days involves nothing more than me and a book. It's good for me to listen to a French speaker now and again. Or, in this case, it's good for me to listen to a man that's being haunted by the voice of his former French professor who goads him into asking a cute French girl on a lunch date. This French professor also has the power to change the weather and make the man's car not work so he has to take the train (en train!).

Homeless and Poor or Maybe Crazy

Apparently that's what I was the other day.

The Ma and I had a couple of errands to run in the center of town. Instead of parking a couple of times, we parked once and crossed the street to get to our errands on the other side. (Why did the mom and the daughter cross the road? To get to their errands on the other side!) The intersection we crossed is fairly central and it's always busy (even in the early morning hours; don't ask me how I know because I'll never admit to it). It takes a long time to walk across that street. This is what happened while we were doing it.

The Ma: *sniggle, sniggle, sniggle

Me: *quizzical brow raise

The Ma: We're homeless and poor. *sniggle

Me: *confused face squench* What?

The Ma: *sniggle* Whenever I see someone walking across this road I think, "Oh you poor, homeless person."

Me: *pause of thought ending in serious confusion* Because only poor, homeless people walk across this road.

The Ma: *sniggle, sniggle* Yes! What sane person with a car and a roof over their head would walk? *sniggle, sniggle

Yup, that really happened.

For the sake of increased understanding, I should tell you my mother has this funny little laugh that bursts out of her when she thinks something is so funny that she can't contain it. I call this her sniggle. It is not malicious. Usually, when she sniggles she's sniggling at herself, as in the story above.

In my mother's defense, it's not entirely her fault that she has strange ideas when it comes to a body being moved by its own force rather than that of a machine.

If I Were a Reptile

Sometimes, I wish I were a snake. Then, I could shed myself as easily as a snake sheds its skin. I would slither away without myself and be, well, whatever I would be if I left myself behind.

If you get tired of where you're living, you move. If you're tired of eating the same thing for dinner every Wednesday night, you eat something else instead. If you're tired of watching the same program on tv, or listening to the same music on your way into work, or of wearing the same clothes, you change them.

I'm bored nearly to death of being me. I'm tired of my likes and dislikes, the way I spend my time, how I'm always trying something new, the things I think and the things I feel. Trying something new is passe, the things I like are the same things I've liked for years and years and years, I would rather lie on my bed and make pictures out of texture on my ceiling than dig into one of my usual pastimes, and my thoughts aren't worth dribble. I wake up in the morning and nearly fall right back to sleep out of sheer boredom from still being me.

I bet in twenty seconds or less I can make you bored nearly to death of me, too.

ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME

See. Now we both want to run when we see me coming. Problem is, when you run, it works. The running, I mean. It doesn't matter how far or fast I run, I can't get away from me.

And if you're sitting there thinking you're not bored of me yet, you cheated. When it comes to being me, there is no skimming.

I should make some changes. Throw out some of the old, bring in something new. Problem is, I'm already tired of all of that new stuff because all that new stuff will be more of the old stuff. It will be things I like, things that are solidly me, and I'm tired of me. Replacing my old stuff with new stuff that I don't like makes even less sense.

Just to be clear, it's not that I don't like myself. None of this, if you're not happy with who you are you can become a different person. I do like myself. There are a few rough edges here and there, some small housekeeping things that I should look into taking care of, but for the most part I am a-okay with who I am. I'm just bored is all.

It's an impossible problem. A ridiculous one, too. Who gets tired of being themselves?

You know what the worst of it is? Even if I were a snake the only thing I could shed is my skin, which would really be no help at all.