Yar, quit the gym. Or rather, gave a month's notice to quit the gym, but since I've already paid for it feels like I didn't. I told them I was moving to Suburb to cut the "reason for quitting?" conversation short, and got in a long hypothetical discussion about my hypothetical commute to my unspecified school, bypassing the very real gym. So it wasn't short, but it was sort of a creative endeavour instead of an uncomfortable silence. Anyway. It's sort of metaphorically true. The gym is out of my way, but out of the way of my schedule rather than my physical presence.

I just realized that I could spend the equivalent of the gym fee on exercise books & videos and have quite a little library for when I'm broke and can't afford a gym fee. Though I think there's a free gym at the university I'll be going to. I think. I mean, I've heard people talk about it, but to look at the website, which lists every other possible student amenity on the planet, it's completely imaginary. I'll have to comb campus with a gravitron detector or something. Anyway, I have my weights at home and my running shoes. I don't think I'll actually collect oodles of perky videos, but maybe a few for when it's piss raining out.

I feel like running. I walk down the hall and take unnecessarily long strides, imagining the power I feel in my legs as I run. It's been ages. Maybe I'll go for a run this weekend, but I doubt it'll fit. Wait until april, natch. At least I have my friday walks. I find I am looking forward to them all week.

I am feeling ambivalent about my weight this month. My jeans fit a little differently every day. Some days my size (Blah + 4) jeans are tight, today my size (Blah) jeans fit fine, a little loose. Mysterious. In general I feel pretty good about being able to wear a size Blah at all, seeing as how size Blah+6 was a tight squeeze last year, but feel vaguely guilty about my diet without actually altering it. My diet is quite good, actually. Maybe a little heavy on the vending machine snacks, but also full of fruit and veggies and sensible main courses and even milk. I am tending to dismiss my random "I'm sooooo fat" thoughts as manifestations of leftover teenage angst I never went through as a teenager. Sort of late coming to my poor self-esteem internship, body image rotation. I must be at the tail end of it, because I'm back to openly sneering at the BMI's applicability to me. Big bones, lift weights, yada yada, PS I'm a babe nyah nyah.

I had a letter published in an advice column the other day, and my spelling of "yada yada" was corrected to "yadda yadda." Hmmm. My liberal Canadian Oxford and exhaustive New Int'l Webster are both silent on the matter. (Webbie offers "yad - hebrew - pointed finger, used as a guide for the reader of scripture". Yada yada = lots of skipped over text? That's a stretch.) Anyway, I'm curious about the etymology of that one. Google has twice as many hits for "yada yada" as "yadda yadda," but that's not conclusive. La la la.

Well, la la la I can be authoritative on. It's "La la la." You know.

Ack, authoritative or authoritive? tative, I think. Also, even though it's "orientation," the verb is "oriented," damnit. Finally, "nauseated" and "nauseous" can both mean the state where you feel like vomiting, not just nauseated. Saying you feel nauseous does not actually mean that you cause nausea, grammar pundits, and it is in any case in poor taste to attempt to make such a correction to someone who might barf on your shoes.

Not getting allergorical there or anything, I'm not barfy today. I used to get all snooty about the nausea thing and then, alas! Discovered I was soooo wrong.

What the hell was I talking about? Ah yes: it's bedtime. Tomorrow I will attempt to get my cubicle at work mangled in to ergonomic compliance. This is slightly unnerving, since I'm not exactly sure if it's possible without totally demolishing the desk, since my oddball focal length means I prefer to sit about 3 feet away from the monitor. Well, it should be a distraction from composing summary fee transaction letters. Tra la.