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Ha ha! I am super smart. I have wasted so much time trying to get around the security on my work computer so I can play on LJ and whatnot. I do that on my Sidekick anyway, but the mini-keyboard gets old. I just realized that I can type using the full keyboard and email it to my phone email, then copy and paste into LJ. The things we do for tech-love. Techno-love? Meh. I guess I don't care that much after all.
I'm moving right now, from a 1-bedroom apartment to a 3-bedroom house. When we moved from San Diego to Yosemite, we took just what we could fit in the car and put the rest in storage. When we moved from Yosemite to Orlando, we took just what we could check on the plane, and wound up tossing most of what we had in storage. Living in a National Park can help you make the distinction between luxury and necessity. Of course, now I am utterly spoiled, and have no incentive to get rid of anything, except that moving is suddenly a Very Big Project.
I'm discovering things that have somehow followed me from when I was working on set in LA (commuting from San Diego and sleeping in my car), or living in a tent at the high camps. Admitting that I can't get rid of items like bug spray and little scraps of paper, which I haven't had use for in years, because of "sentimental value"... Yeah, moving is hard.
It is making me feel all nostalgic, though. I may go on another journaling kick here. Starting with a story I promised to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nonnierms (and others, I think), a very long time ago.
Adventures in the Boy's Bathroom
When winter came and our tents started collapsing under the snow, those of us who didn't fly off to warmer climes were moved to cabins and dorms. I got a little corner room in what looked like a portable building next to the Ahwahnee hotel. A little history here: The Ahwahnee was originally (we're talking long, long ago,) a hospital. My shelter was originally used to house nurses, which at that time were exclusively female. When it was converted into a co-ed dorm, the laundry room was cut in half, and part of it put to use as the men's shower. A closet down the hall became the men's toilet. The women's facilities were unchanged, as far as anyone could tell.
The showers I was obligated to use had two settings: hot and cold. Those of you who think that's normal must not have had a deep and thorough experience of the terms "hot" and "cold". With the amount of sediment and minerals that had accumulated on the showerheads, which were positioned at perfect nipple-piercing height, the water pressure was akin to that of a firehose. Imagine having to choose between thousands of red hot needles, or thousands of sharpened ice chips, when your nipples are involved. In order to wash my hair, I had to crouch. With no room to properly bend, it was more of an acrobatic move; what I call the wiggle-slouch-contort-and-pray combination. I was very good, actually, but that was small consolation.
So I often found myself in the men's shower. It was so rarely occupied, anyway. It had a modern shower, and a bath, and closely resembled heaven. Well, I'm sure it wouldn't now, compared to my private bathroom and Jacuzzi tub. But at the time, there were angels singing, and Armageddon would not have stopped me smiling as I lay back in that tub. Keep in mind, the trails were closed due to snow. The air was cold enough to hurt, and the ground no softer no matter how many times I flopped gracelessly onto my back in the icy parking lot. Work sucked, and spending hours on the bus to get to work sucked more. I had no internet, no library, and few friends. Few people around at all, for reasons that ought to be obvious enough by now. The men's bathroom was my haven.
Only once did someone try to take it away from me, and I'd like to say they suffered, but I suppose he did have a valid point. Him being a man and all. I tried selling him on using the women's bathroom instead, but I think he was distracted by my very poor imitation of a man's voice. "Fine, I'll be out in two minutes," I yelled in my own voice. I then proceeded to time myself, just to make a point. It did take time to get my various girly things together, but two minutes later I threw on my robe and made my grand exit. He glared at me. I said two minutes, I took two minutes. I glared back. I considered being embarrassed, thought better of it, and restocked my kit for my next bath.
Hee! Memories.
I do take requests, if there are any stories you'd like to hear. Meeting bears, getting lost in the woods, being cast as a Booty Girl on the worst tv show Ever, getting seasick on land in the UK, assorted travels in Europe, childhood traumas (hey, we all have 'em), etc.
I would love to hear your stories too. One lifetime just isn't enough for everything I'd like to experience, so I need you to help me live vicariously. Either in comments or in your own LJ (link me please!)
I'm moving right now, from a 1-bedroom apartment to a 3-bedroom house. When we moved from San Diego to Yosemite, we took just what we could fit in the car and put the rest in storage. When we moved from Yosemite to Orlando, we took just what we could check on the plane, and wound up tossing most of what we had in storage. Living in a National Park can help you make the distinction between luxury and necessity. Of course, now I am utterly spoiled, and have no incentive to get rid of anything, except that moving is suddenly a Very Big Project.
I'm discovering things that have somehow followed me from when I was working on set in LA (commuting from San Diego and sleeping in my car), or living in a tent at the high camps. Admitting that I can't get rid of items like bug spray and little scraps of paper, which I haven't had use for in years, because of "sentimental value"... Yeah, moving is hard.
It is making me feel all nostalgic, though. I may go on another journaling kick here. Starting with a story I promised to
nonnierms (and others, I think), a very long time ago.Adventures in the Boy's Bathroom
When winter came and our tents started collapsing under the snow, those of us who didn't fly off to warmer climes were moved to cabins and dorms. I got a little corner room in what looked like a portable building next to the Ahwahnee hotel. A little history here: The Ahwahnee was originally (we're talking long, long ago,) a hospital. My shelter was originally used to house nurses, which at that time were exclusively female. When it was converted into a co-ed dorm, the laundry room was cut in half, and part of it put to use as the men's shower. A closet down the hall became the men's toilet. The women's facilities were unchanged, as far as anyone could tell.
The showers I was obligated to use had two settings: hot and cold. Those of you who think that's normal must not have had a deep and thorough experience of the terms "hot" and "cold". With the amount of sediment and minerals that had accumulated on the showerheads, which were positioned at perfect nipple-piercing height, the water pressure was akin to that of a firehose. Imagine having to choose between thousands of red hot needles, or thousands of sharpened ice chips, when your nipples are involved. In order to wash my hair, I had to crouch. With no room to properly bend, it was more of an acrobatic move; what I call the wiggle-slouch-contort-and-pray combination. I was very good, actually, but that was small consolation.
So I often found myself in the men's shower. It was so rarely occupied, anyway. It had a modern shower, and a bath, and closely resembled heaven. Well, I'm sure it wouldn't now, compared to my private bathroom and Jacuzzi tub. But at the time, there were angels singing, and Armageddon would not have stopped me smiling as I lay back in that tub. Keep in mind, the trails were closed due to snow. The air was cold enough to hurt, and the ground no softer no matter how many times I flopped gracelessly onto my back in the icy parking lot. Work sucked, and spending hours on the bus to get to work sucked more. I had no internet, no library, and few friends. Few people around at all, for reasons that ought to be obvious enough by now. The men's bathroom was my haven.
Only once did someone try to take it away from me, and I'd like to say they suffered, but I suppose he did have a valid point. Him being a man and all. I tried selling him on using the women's bathroom instead, but I think he was distracted by my very poor imitation of a man's voice. "Fine, I'll be out in two minutes," I yelled in my own voice. I then proceeded to time myself, just to make a point. It did take time to get my various girly things together, but two minutes later I threw on my robe and made my grand exit. He glared at me. I said two minutes, I took two minutes. I glared back. I considered being embarrassed, thought better of it, and restocked my kit for my next bath.
Hee! Memories.
I do take requests, if there are any stories you'd like to hear. Meeting bears, getting lost in the woods, being cast as a Booty Girl on the worst tv show Ever, getting seasick on land in the UK, assorted travels in Europe, childhood traumas (hey, we all have 'em), etc.
I would love to hear your stories too. One lifetime just isn't enough for everything I'd like to experience, so I need you to help me live vicariously. Either in comments or in your own LJ (link me please!)
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