I am turning into my mother.

This has been happening for a long time. My sister occasionally calls me "Little Terrie" because she says I sound exactly like my mother. And ex-boyfriend who knew my mom pretty well (he was a friend of my living-with-us nephew long before we dated) once said, "Uh, okay Terrie" in response to something I was nagging him about (ouch). On the other hand, my mom occasionally calls me Greg Jr. (my dad) when I start getting impatient and cranky. But anyway. I'm turning into my mom.

How? I clean house in my pjs. I can't tell you how many times friends would come home with me after school and as we walked through the door, my mom was running out of the room & upstairs to actually put on some clothes. And a bra. Because she'd have spent the entire day cleaning house and if you're cleaning, what's the point of putting on normal clothes? Or a bra for that matter. So yes. Today I've spent a few hours moving furniture and sweeping and swiffering and half-assedly dusting. I'm not a fan of dusting. And I'm still in the same thing I wore to bed last night.

My mother would not call the state of my apartment "clean" but my eyes have started to get red & itchy and I'm sneezing up a storm, so it's time for me to quit.

This podcast gives me the giggles. It's basically just two comedians from Vancouver who sometimes have a guest and talk about ridiculous things. It's pretty awesome.

Stop Podcasting Yourself!

I often tell people I have very eclectic taste in music. Lots of people say this, or something along the lines of "I listen to EVERYTHING." Well, this is a small sampling of music that came up on random in an iTunes playlist entitled "Awesome."

I think that qualifies as a little bit of everything.

So I'm not so great with the whole "updating" thing. I update my Tumblr in spurts, not posting anything for a few days, then linking to four music videos on YouTube & reblogging something from The Atlantic. As for my LiveJournal, I NEVER update that anymore. And this blog? I forget about it until I go to comment on someone else's blog. So here I am again.

The biggest thing that's going on right now in my life is a whole heap of uncertainty. So, backstory. Two years ago, the airline I worked for merged with another airline to create a ginormous airline. A few days ago, the last hurdle to moving forward was jumped. And I am no longer represented by a labor union. This is slightly scary for me only because I have no idea how things work without a union. With my old airline, I had a contract. I could look things up in my contract. I could quote my contract. So when the Company wanted me to do something that was against my contract, I could say, "That's against my contract, so you can't make me do that." And the Company would say, "Okay, fine, you're right. You don't have to do that." Now? I guess there is a policy manual? But it gets changed at the company's discretion? And also, I'm pretty sure the way I work will be different now. The way I've worked for 3 years is that I am basically on call 18 days out of the month. For example, I am on call right now. When I'm on call, I just have to be able to get to the airport within 2 hours if they need me. Sometimes they need me. Sometimes they don't. But I have a guaranteed amount of hours that they will pay me for, whether I fly them or not. But with the New Company, I'm not sure how that will work because they do not have straight reserve flight attendants. So yes. A big huge ball of uncertainty that is making my stomach do loop-the-loops.

Otherwise, things are going okay. Last time I posted, I said I was 6 pounds away from my goal. Well, I met it and I surpassed it. At least, I'd surpassed it the last time I weighed myself. I don't currently own a scale and while I've thought about purchasing one, I have no intention of doing so any time soon. My skinny jeans fit and I'm pretty damn comfortable with how I look. I occasionally slip up and do things like eat an entire pint of ice cream, but for the most part, I'm working on intuitive eating and moderation. Go me!

I had a birthday last week & I turned 27. I did not do anything for my birthday because I was working, so I ended up walking around a mall in Sacramento by myself and getting ice cream in my hair. Because even at age 27, I cannot always eat ice cream without getting it in my hair. Turning 27 feels strange. I started telling people I was already 27 a good two months before my birthday. And the day didn't feel special. But the age itself feels strange. I think because when I was a little girl playing Barbies, 27 was always the age that I gave to my Barbies that were successful career ladies, usually with a degree in Art History. My Barbies were cultured, damn it. So here I am, at 27 and while I have a degree (an honors degree, at that, in journalism), I don't know if I would use the word "successful" to describe myself. I'm on the downward slide into my 30s, which is not to say that 30 is the be-all-end-all, but I've always hoped that I'd have my shit together by the time I hit 30. Guess I have 3 years to figure it out.