Yvette's Inner Geek Blog

Here are three good things about today:

1. My replacement Logitech Trackman mouse arrived in a timely fashion and has enabled me to return to the world of Scrolling. Without having to buy a new mouse!
2. I ate a surprisingly delicious BBQ pulled pork sandwich on ciabatta bread from the UVU cafeteria for lunch.
3. My husband and I are retarded for each other.

Inspired by a Julia (a very lovely Canadian and fellow Sundance Film Festival volunteer)’s blog, 3 for 365. Thanks, Julia!

First, some zen: What is the sound of a plural haiku?

Second, please leave a comment with which haiku you like best and/or write one of your own. I will read them all through the thick, watery film that is covering my eyes. And then I will laugh-cough until I crumple into a muscle-weakened pile on the floor. Wherein I will hopefully recuperate. And possibly be a little less dramatic about it all.

I Have a Bad Cold – 1

viral consciousness
threatens to disintegrate
into fevered dreams

I Have a Bad Cold – 2

thick, watery eyes
head a runny, stuffy mess
bite my ass, virus

I Have a Bad Cold – 3

runny, stuffy mess
bite my shiny metal ass
you stupid virus

I Have a Bad Cold – 4

littering room with
virus-laden used tissues
for the sexy win

Virally=

I’ve been thinking about a comment on last week’s post, This damn 356 challenge. Alanna, my high school friend and a fellow writer, recently read an e-book about blogging wherein the author advised against forced daily blogging because it can lead to burnout.

Blogging burnout. Yep, I felt that a few weeks in.

But.

I’m not new to blogging. I like writing and sharing links and photos with my friends, fellow geeks, and The Internet At Large. I made a personal pledge to blog every day in 2010 to improve myself, not out of any external obligation. Burnout was expected—in fact, I’m starting to understand that my larger goal is learning how to deal with a viscous* trifecta of burnout, laziness, and imperfection. It’s about accepting that those ooze into many areas of my life and learning how to push harder to overcome instead of giving up or making excuses. As I said on January 1:

This one goal I have for 2010 doesn’t involve any specifics or require much in the way of perfection. It will be an exercise in follow-through for me that I think will be helpful. And maybe along the way I’ll attack some of my other non-official goals.

And I think it has been helpful. I sleep better at night knowing that, though my basket of unmet goals still overfloweth, I have accomplished one and moved 1/365 closer to accomplishing a bigger one**. And that one night a couple weeks ago when I was exhausted and didn’t blog? I still thought about blogging before making the conscious decision to go to sleep instead. It was a wise decision at the time and I don’t regret it. It was a lesson learned.

Now, when my eyes would rather close than stare at a blank Wordpress Add New Post page, and all I can think of to write is something lame, I write it. Sometimes it stays that way, but mostly I’m finding that it inspires something more. Something I didn’t know I wanted to write until I was writing it. Something that I like and I’m proud to have written.

And that makes the burnout worth it.

*Yes, I meant to write “viscous,” as in thick and oozy goo. I accidentally re-read it as “vicious,” which would actually also work. So. Reader’s choice on that one, m’kay?

**Thank you for sticking with my tortured 365 Challenge posts. I’ll try to keep them at a minimum from here on out.

It’s nearing the end of February, and I feel like the number of times I nearly forget to blog is increasing. I’m usually brushing my teeth or washing my face, perhaps recounting my day and creating a loose mental picture of the next day, and I suddenly remember: damn personal blog goal.

Sure, I could just quit. Missing one day in almost two months is still impressive to me, the Judger of Goals. I have formed the habit of remembering my blog. I have formed the habit of posting something on my blog even if it’s just a slightly embellished tweet.

But I still have not reached the point where I am truly blogging every day, in my opinion. Where I write something thoughtful and do more than hurry to post something so that I can just go to bed already. I feel like I’m about 50/50 on thoughtful vs. hurried. I would like that to be better. In order to improve that, I really need to begin blogging earlier in the day when I start having viable blog ideas rather than putting it off until I’m tired and ready for bed.

I went back to the salon this morning and said that I wasn’t happy. I was basically handed over to the same stylist so she could fix her own job. After waiting a few precious minutes (I drove straight to a business interview after leaving), I told her what was wrong and that the fix needed to be quick. She aimed her scissors first at the back of my head, where there was still some semi-full hair below ear level, and I said NO, it’s the FRONT OF MY FACE that looks like ass. I didn’t say ass. I should have. There were a lot of things that I wanted to say but I was tired and stressed and residually polite. Damn my residual politeness.

My original haircut (the “cute” one) basically looked like one of these lovely ladies’ hairstyles, but with longer bangs. And flatter.

Scarlett is the only one who can even vaguely pull it off, but she’s Scarlett Fucking Johansson, you know? Anyway, this morning the stylist rounded out the thin, blunt, and poorly blended hair in the front of my face so that I feel less like Carol Brady, but I still don’t like it. It doesn’t feel like me, nor does it look like what I described to her. I’m usually pretty good with descriptions, for example: “a trim with some subtle layers and a blond chunk of hair in the front. I have fine hair that I want to look fuller without using a ton of product.” My hair was mostly the same length when I went in. I feel like this is a “Utah County Mom” hairstyle. You local people know what I’m talking about. Bleeeech.

I’m no fashion expert, but I’m pretty sure that seeing my neck through my hair does not constitute “fullness.”

I wasn’t wearing a helmet at all today! I swear!

Then again, Tina Fey pulled off something like it back when she was on Weekend Update. Except hers still looks better. Maybe I just need to wear my black plastic cat eye glasses with this cut and make sure that I’m always near a goofy retard. BUT WHAT IF I AM THE GOOFY RETARD.

I bought another package of “Dark Cherry” dye and was preparing to refresh the violet tones on my roots this week, but then an interview-type-thing popped up unexpectedly, and it seemed like a better idea to not have violet hair this week. I was in need of a haircut anyway.

I went to the Nice Salon a few minutes away from my house this morning, where I’ve had good experiences when I go (which ends up being once or twice a year). I’d go more often if it cost less. The stylist I liked doesn’t work there anymore, so I scheduled an appointment with one I didn’t know anything about because she was available on short notice.

Bad idea, as it turns out.

I’m not a morning person and didn’t have my usual amount of coffee this morning, otherwise I might have noticed the little things during my haircut. We discussed the auburn-ish base color I wanted, but she didn’t bring up what color or how bright the highlights would be. She didn’t check in as often with little questions and clarifications. She didn’t give me a mirror to look at the back of my hair after she finished.

My gut told me that that I didn’t like the haircut, but I didn’t listen. I also didn’t feign joy, and a good stylist would have noticed that I was less than thrilled and perhaps inquired about why. But I was tired and keeping an eye on the clock since I had to go to class—so I paid, left a decent tip as I normally do, and walked out the door.

But I didn’t like my haircut in the rear view mirror. And I didn’t like it under the harsh fluorescent lighting of the university bathroom. My friends and classmates—people whom, under normal circumstances, I would never ask what they thought of my new haircut—said things like “it’s cute!” in that certain tone of voice which, as we all know, means that it is not cute. But they would rather be polite than risk offending me even though I am essentially begging them to. Note to self: next time just wait to see husband’s reaction.

The interview is, of course, tomorrow. Washing my hair will help even out the stripey highlights, but it’s the unflattering cut that concerns me. As I twittered earlier, “I either got a Carol Brady-esque mullet haircut or I’m not in tune w/fashionable hairstyles of 2010. Either way it needs to be fixed!”

I played with it more this evening—flattening, curling, mousseing—but can’t get it to a point where I’m even moderately happy with it. I should have called the Nice Salon this afternoon, but I’ve never been in this situation before and I don’t know the proper way to deal with it. I don’t want the same stylist to fix my hair since she got it wrong the first time and there isn’t time (or length) for additional error. I also don’t want to be the bitchy customer who insists that the manager fix it personally—because the salon is relatively small and I know the stylist is working tomorrow. It’s embarrassing. But I’m going to have to call first thing tomorrow and ask if I can come in on my way to the interview.

And no, I’m not going to share a photo. If you want to see an unflattering image of me, you’re going to have to visit me in person.

P.S. Though I wrote a level-headed response the first time it happened, don’t be a dick and tell me that I’m not a geek because I’m writing about my hair. I’m feeling snarly.

There may be everyday stories, but I’ve struggled to find a bloggable story every day.

I’ve been disappointed with the number of “cop-out posts” I’ve used in order to fulfill my 365 challenge. I suppose that I was hoping for something somewhat meaningful, or at least mildly amusing, to come out of my brain every day. Friday night I started to write an entry but got tired and disinterested in what I was writing. Finally, after 2am, I shared a link in a post that was not much longer than a tweet. I forgot to pre-date it to Friday at 11:59pm, per my “I’m still awake so it still counts for the previous day” guideline*.

Instead of fixing it on Saturday, I simply didn’t blog at all. I slept in and kept myself busy all day—either subconsciously procrastinating or just plain not thinking about my blog. Then, well after midnight and after my computer was shut down, I remembered my blog while I was brushing my teeth with my eyes closed. Screw it, I thought. I just want to go to bed. And I did.

So, there it was. My first missed blogging day of the year. I’ve wrestled all day with what to do. Fix the dates and pretend it never happened? Post another boring entry about this challenge and whine about my failure? Delete the entire blog and change my name and move to Costa Rica?

Eh, as tempting as Costa Rica sounded… here I am, blog and name intact. No dates have been changed to save face. And hopefully I’m not whining.

I blogged for 43 days straight and I’m proud of myself for that. Rather than throw in the towel (I always have a towel with me, don’t you?) at this point as I normally would (and have), I’m picking myself back up and gunning for the next 321 days. I still have a chance of 99.7% success for my 365 challenge. Go optimism!

*which I’m totally invoking for this post

Maybe it was sleep deprivation, maybe it’s just a hilarious article that is undeniably based in fact. Whether or not you like cats, I highly recommend 6 adorable cat behaviors with shockingly evil explanations.

I’m a habitual list-maker. Cleaning up my desk and perpetually seemingly-hurricane-stricken office always yields small piles of post-its with notes I’ve written to myself: to-do lists; names and phone numbers and addresses; small phrases that inspire a story I didn’t have time to write; spontaneous categorization that is forgotten as soon as it’s recorded; doodles and diagrams, etc.

Many of them I feel I need to keep at least until I compile the data and ideas somewhere more permanent. Notes scribbled with expired relevance can be safely thrown away. Sometimes I’ll come across a note that isn’t easy to categorize because I don’t know what it means. Take this one that I found tonight:

Paper
Stationery
Blog about
Story prompt
Top Priority

That’s it. I can tell you that I wrote this note sometime in the fall, but I’ve forgotten why. Paper could mean anything. Stationery could indicate that this is a “to buy” list since I’ve had somewhat recent thoughts about what a shame it is that I don’t hand-write letters anymore and perhaps having some decent stationery would change that.

(All the stationery I have is a few holdover pieces from my childhood that I could use ironically, but would otherwise defeat the purpose and feel of real stationery that reflects who I am today.)

But the inclusion of the action words Blog about confuse me. Blog about what? Stationery? Or a Story prompt? And what is Top Priority? Why is that at the bottom of the list? I have no idea, and I’ve been mulling it over in the back of my head for a couple hours now. I don’t believe it will come to me.

And so I’ve placed that post-it note in the recycling bin to make room for future lists and ideas—hoping that its meaning was simply displaced instead of being lost forever.

It’s day 35. I’ve definitely solidified a blogging habit, even if sometimes I groan as midnight approaches because I don’t feel like I have anything interesting to say.

(That’s when I pull up my “to blog about” bookmarks folder that I built up while not blogging this past fall. It’s helped me with content and/or inspiration.)

There are two important things about this newly formed blogging habit o’ mine:

1. I am writing something every day for myself and for public consumption (and possibly entertainment, on a good day).
2. I have set a goal for myself and am dedicated to achieving it.

Kind of obvious, right? Even though I’m only 9.5% through the challenge, I’ve already accomplished something that I’ve never accomplished before—blogging every day for a month. It’s been awkward, fun, and straining at times. But I’m sending a message to myself that says, Hey! You’re doing it! and Hey! You can probably do all those other things that seem too hard or like too much work if you set your mind to it.

Not exactly earth-shattering revelations, I know. But accomplishing this minor one-month goal has rewarded me with confidence, which has in turn rewarded me with motivation in general. I guess I just needed to find the right challenge.

Maybe that’s why it’s called a personal challenge. Durrrrr.