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Oct. 16th, 2006 09:39 pmThere's something comforting about having my camera with me all the time again, or having an excuse to take a lot of photos. Maybe because I remember things so visually that having a record of them in addition to the memory just helps bring it alive again. So, even if I'm not posting here daily, the likelihood that I'm maintaining my photoposting is high, so add http://community.livejournal.com/mylife_onceaday/tag/amalthya to your bookmarks, etc.
School is going well. I have a swahili midterm on Wednesday, which is a little overwhelming if only because it means that I must devote my brain to memorization of Swahili all Tuesday Night. It also means I can't chat idly on #stuy95 with people. That's right, I said "people"
I pleased myself today by "fixing" a "broken" computer in the computer lab by plugging in the monitor. I'm tempted to unplug the monitor of my favorite mac in the lab if only to keep the idiots labeling it "broken" away and make sure that I always have a free machine.
Other than that, there isn't a whole lot to report. I hung out with Fred last night. We went for manicures and pedicures, then out to dinner, then back to his luxuriously appointed Chelsea apartment for some intoxicated karaoke and couch-flopping. We'd planned to watch Desperate Housewives (his favorite show) but lost track of time. I slept over, only to be awakened sometime after midnight by Vlad who'd come home, Russian and Drunk™, and played loud dance music. Why, I'm not sure. I wasn't even totally aware of it. I just dreamed about loud dance music. Fred informed me while in a snit this morning.
Fred and I went to New York Sports Club this morning, one of the superfluous gyms in Chelsea, and I have to say I was a bit disappointed. Heralded as the Gay Mecca of New York, I expected the gym there to be full of toned, buff, gorgeous young gay men. But wow, everyone was UUuUuuuuuuGLY! I immediately didn't work out *quite* so hard.
Fred spotted me and taught me how to use a bunch of weight-lifting machines. He thinks after I lost the weight in Congo/Uganda that I'm finally ready to tone, and not just do cardio, so I felt like a tooljob and bent my body up and flexed in various ways for various machines. NYC Gyms are blanketed in mirrors, which I've decided MUST be skinny mirrors. I'm not sure I understand the logic... I mean, wouldn't they want you to look fatter, feel fatter and go to the gym more often?
Or maybe it's a "look how thin you LOOK while at the gym! Come here to boost your self esteem" or "Perpetuate your delusion!" Either way, working out with Fred was really fun. I think we're planning to do it next Monday too.
If only I wasn't already starting to get sore!
School is going well. I have a swahili midterm on Wednesday, which is a little overwhelming if only because it means that I must devote my brain to memorization of Swahili all Tuesday Night. It also means I can't chat idly on #stuy95 with people. That's right, I said "people"
I pleased myself today by "fixing" a "broken" computer in the computer lab by plugging in the monitor. I'm tempted to unplug the monitor of my favorite mac in the lab if only to keep the idiots labeling it "broken" away and make sure that I always have a free machine.
Other than that, there isn't a whole lot to report. I hung out with Fred last night. We went for manicures and pedicures, then out to dinner, then back to his luxuriously appointed Chelsea apartment for some intoxicated karaoke and couch-flopping. We'd planned to watch Desperate Housewives (his favorite show) but lost track of time. I slept over, only to be awakened sometime after midnight by Vlad who'd come home, Russian and Drunk™, and played loud dance music. Why, I'm not sure. I wasn't even totally aware of it. I just dreamed about loud dance music. Fred informed me while in a snit this morning.
Fred and I went to New York Sports Club this morning, one of the superfluous gyms in Chelsea, and I have to say I was a bit disappointed. Heralded as the Gay Mecca of New York, I expected the gym there to be full of toned, buff, gorgeous young gay men. But wow, everyone was UUuUuuuuuuGLY! I immediately didn't work out *quite* so hard.
Fred spotted me and taught me how to use a bunch of weight-lifting machines. He thinks after I lost the weight in Congo/Uganda that I'm finally ready to tone, and not just do cardio, so I felt like a tooljob and bent my body up and flexed in various ways for various machines. NYC Gyms are blanketed in mirrors, which I've decided MUST be skinny mirrors. I'm not sure I understand the logic... I mean, wouldn't they want you to look fatter, feel fatter and go to the gym more often?
Or maybe it's a "look how thin you LOOK while at the gym! Come here to boost your self esteem" or "Perpetuate your delusion!" Either way, working out with Fred was really fun. I think we're planning to do it next Monday too.
If only I wasn't already starting to get sore!
