Endorphins, Getting My Groove Back, and the Half-Blood Prince
Endorphins are wondrous things. They make you happy. More importantly, they make you feel happier than you did before they started pumping through your blood.
Case in point: Today has been a little wacky for me, and my routine has been seriously disrupted. Normally this is not a problem for me. I like mixing things up. I used to live by a pretty rigid schedule, but I discovered it made me a cranky mom, so I let go of some of my OCD and learned to chill out just a little. I worked someone else's desk this morning, which was relaxing and quiet, with little work to do. I occupied myself by reading news articles online. That doesn't look as embarrassing when the Big Boss walks by as my Facebook page does, so, y'know . . .
However, I didn't have my music playing. On my computer at my own desk I have a nice mix of music -- classical, jazz, contemporary, just a little bit of pop and some gentle old-time rock and roll. I always turn the volume down just a little when those cycle through, but I like my tunes.
When I had spent my shift covering the front desk, I took an extended lunch to go to the University's benefits fair. It doesn't do much for me, as I really don't need to collect 17 more advertising-stamped pens, nor do I want to find a home for a stuffed Snoopy with "MetLife" tattooed on his belly.
Still, it's nice to take two hours for lunch instead of one. That's not me in the photo; just an example of the thrills involved with the benefits fair. With the hour and 45 minutes left over after perusing all the tables at the fair, I decided to stop by the campus library and pick up the next two volumes of the Harry Potter series on CD.
An hour ago, I would have warned you here to not start with me about the fact that a woman of my age, with children who have all read and loved the series, has just now finished book four. I would have been in too vitriolic a mood to put up with any razzing on the subject. Let's just offer up kudos to endorphins for enabling me to use "vitriolic" instead of the other, not-so-erudite-adjective I was considering before those little hormones kicked in.
See, I'm not as library literate as I used to be. I tried ordering the audio book on CD through the library's site a few weeks ago. Our local city library is missing volumes 5 and 6, and so I figured the university library would be a fine source. The website mocked me for my attempt, clearly implying it didn't want to be bothered with such frivolous requests, and demanding that I present myself at the building itself to search for my volumes. You wouldn't think a college website could carry off that kind of attitude, but it did, swimmingly. Sufficiently humbled, I took the opportunity today to enter those grand gates and hunt down the CDs myself.
I like listening to the audio books. Jim Dale is brilliant. That's reason enough, but I also am able to listen during my 25 minute commute each morning and afternoon that I work, and whenever I'm driving about town, which is often. Finally, this multi-tasking relieves me of the guilt of light-weight reading instead of doing more "grown-up" tasks. I won't even list them here. Too boring.
I trudged all about the library, trying to find these volumes, finally ending up downstairs in the multi-media section.
I should have known to go there first, but the online "card-catalogue" only gave the code for the location, without indicating in any way on which of the five floors they might be found. I used to know the Dewey Decimal system pretty well. Today I felt a little silly, hunting high and low. Still, low was where they were located . . . well, where they might have been located if they were actually at the library.
Because, my friends, the arrogant website which told me I had to come to the campus library to check out these books was mistaken. They were not on the library's shelves, but in another location altogether, meaning that I needed to submit a request for an inter-library loan in order to get my Order of the Phoenix Phix.
I confess. I was annoyed. Still, I trudged back up the stairs to the circulation desk to request an inter-library loan. The woman there cheerfully asked how she could help me, and when I told her I wanted to submit my request, she looked at me a little condescendingly (I am an old woman, after all, and might not understand if she used techno-speak), and informed me that I could submit that request myself right on their wonderful website.
I took a deep breath and explained that I had tried to do that before, but had been unable to complete the transaction, as it were. She then proceeded to turn her computer monitor so I could see it, and pointed at various links and tabs on the website, patiently explaining to me in her most sincere "grandma's never gonna get this anyway" tone just exactly how I could create my very own login and make my very own requests from the comfort of my rocker. Okay. I embellished that one just a little.
I reminded her that I had tried to do just that very thing, and when she began to quiz me on the possible ways I may have mis-navigated their oh-so-easy-to-use website, I thanked her abruptly, told her I would try it again and headed out the door before I burst a blood vessel all over the circulation desk. It would have been poetic, I suppose, but messy.
All the way across campus, I began constructing my rant to post here. Let's just say it wasn't quite this coherent or g-rated at the moment. Don't misunderstand me; even when I'm seriously frosted, you guys know I can't write impressive PG-13 stuff. I wanted to, though. I was thinking it hard.
I had one more appointment, though, before my lunch hour(s) ended. I've signed up for a program here on campus where I go to get my weight, body fat, blood pressure, cholesterol, etc. tested, and then they check my strength and endurance in a bunch of different ways and then they set up an exercise program for me. I'm supposed to follow it for a semester and see how I progress. It's free, it's personalized, and I figure I need to be healthier, so I signed up. Yesterday was the finger-sticking and the how-many-sit-ups-can-you-do? day. Don't ask.
Obviously again, that's not me in the photo. Oh, to have those abs! That will be next Monday, on stress-test day. Today was the how-many-reps-can-you-do? day. I sat at the various weight machines and lifted and pushed and heaved and ho-ed and she kept adding weight until I grunted and said, "We're done." She was a cute young thing, and very nice to me, and she didn't even laugh yesterday when she wrote down how many sit-ups I actually did. I told you, don't ask. Her name is Erika, and she'll be writing up my exercise program. I like her.
That might just be the endorphins talking, though. It's amazing. Twenty minutes puffing and heaving and focusing on just one more rep left me feeling remarkably calm and refreshed. I can leg press more than twice my body weight, just in case you were curious. My legs are strong. My arms and core . . . sigh. That's where we'll be working, Erika and I.
So I returned to my own desk after my four hour shift upstairs and my two hour lunch break. Even as I sat down to begin writing this, the word "vitriolic" came to me to replace that other not-so-nice-adjective I was cradling in my mind before. I turned on my iTunes playlist and as Warning Guitar started to float around me, I felt a distinct sense of peace. It's good to be back where I belong. The sweat on my lower back has evaporated. My muscles feel relaxed but competent. Those endorphins have done their job.
I might even look into requesting an inter-library loan online. Who knows? Maybe the website's mood has improved, too.
Case in point: Today has been a little wacky for me, and my routine has been seriously disrupted. Normally this is not a problem for me. I like mixing things up. I used to live by a pretty rigid schedule, but I discovered it made me a cranky mom, so I let go of some of my OCD and learned to chill out just a little. I worked someone else's desk this morning, which was relaxing and quiet, with little work to do. I occupied myself by reading news articles online. That doesn't look as embarrassing when the Big Boss walks by as my Facebook page does, so, y'know . . .
However, I didn't have my music playing. On my computer at my own desk I have a nice mix of music -- classical, jazz, contemporary, just a little bit of pop and some gentle old-time rock and roll. I always turn the volume down just a little when those cycle through, but I like my tunes.
When I had spent my shift covering the front desk, I took an extended lunch to go to the University's benefits fair. It doesn't do much for me, as I really don't need to collect 17 more advertising-stamped pens, nor do I want to find a home for a stuffed Snoopy with "MetLife" tattooed on his belly.
Still, it's nice to take two hours for lunch instead of one. That's not me in the photo; just an example of the thrills involved with the benefits fair. With the hour and 45 minutes left over after perusing all the tables at the fair, I decided to stop by the campus library and pick up the next two volumes of the Harry Potter series on CD.
An hour ago, I would have warned you here to not start with me about the fact that a woman of my age, with children who have all read and loved the series, has just now finished book four. I would have been in too vitriolic a mood to put up with any razzing on the subject. Let's just offer up kudos to endorphins for enabling me to use "vitriolic" instead of the other, not-so-erudite-adjective I was considering before those little hormones kicked in.
See, I'm not as library literate as I used to be. I tried ordering the audio book on CD through the library's site a few weeks ago. Our local city library is missing volumes 5 and 6, and so I figured the university library would be a fine source. The website mocked me for my attempt, clearly implying it didn't want to be bothered with such frivolous requests, and demanding that I present myself at the building itself to search for my volumes. You wouldn't think a college website could carry off that kind of attitude, but it did, swimmingly. Sufficiently humbled, I took the opportunity today to enter those grand gates and hunt down the CDs myself.
I like listening to the audio books. Jim Dale is brilliant. That's reason enough, but I also am able to listen during my 25 minute commute each morning and afternoon that I work, and whenever I'm driving about town, which is often. Finally, this multi-tasking relieves me of the guilt of light-weight reading instead of doing more "grown-up" tasks. I won't even list them here. Too boring.
I trudged all about the library, trying to find these volumes, finally ending up downstairs in the multi-media section.
I should have known to go there first, but the online "card-catalogue" only gave the code for the location, without indicating in any way on which of the five floors they might be found. I used to know the Dewey Decimal system pretty well. Today I felt a little silly, hunting high and low. Still, low was where they were located . . . well, where they might have been located if they were actually at the library.
Because, my friends, the arrogant website which told me I had to come to the campus library to check out these books was mistaken. They were not on the library's shelves, but in another location altogether, meaning that I needed to submit a request for an inter-library loan in order to get my Order of the Phoenix Phix.
I confess. I was annoyed. Still, I trudged back up the stairs to the circulation desk to request an inter-library loan. The woman there cheerfully asked how she could help me, and when I told her I wanted to submit my request, she looked at me a little condescendingly (I am an old woman, after all, and might not understand if she used techno-speak), and informed me that I could submit that request myself right on their wonderful website.
I took a deep breath and explained that I had tried to do that before, but had been unable to complete the transaction, as it were. She then proceeded to turn her computer monitor so I could see it, and pointed at various links and tabs on the website, patiently explaining to me in her most sincere "grandma's never gonna get this anyway" tone just exactly how I could create my very own login and make my very own requests from the comfort of my rocker. Okay. I embellished that one just a little.
I reminded her that I had tried to do just that very thing, and when she began to quiz me on the possible ways I may have mis-navigated their oh-so-easy-to-use website, I thanked her abruptly, told her I would try it again and headed out the door before I burst a blood vessel all over the circulation desk. It would have been poetic, I suppose, but messy.
All the way across campus, I began constructing my rant to post here. Let's just say it wasn't quite this coherent or g-rated at the moment. Don't misunderstand me; even when I'm seriously frosted, you guys know I can't write impressive PG-13 stuff. I wanted to, though. I was thinking it hard.
I had one more appointment, though, before my lunch hour(s) ended. I've signed up for a program here on campus where I go to get my weight, body fat, blood pressure, cholesterol, etc. tested, and then they check my strength and endurance in a bunch of different ways and then they set up an exercise program for me. I'm supposed to follow it for a semester and see how I progress. It's free, it's personalized, and I figure I need to be healthier, so I signed up. Yesterday was the finger-sticking and the how-many-sit-ups-can-you-do? day. Don't ask.
Obviously again, that's not me in the photo. Oh, to have those abs! That will be next Monday, on stress-test day. Today was the how-many-reps-can-you-do? day. I sat at the various weight machines and lifted and pushed and heaved and ho-ed and she kept adding weight until I grunted and said, "We're done." She was a cute young thing, and very nice to me, and she didn't even laugh yesterday when she wrote down how many sit-ups I actually did. I told you, don't ask. Her name is Erika, and she'll be writing up my exercise program. I like her.
That might just be the endorphins talking, though. It's amazing. Twenty minutes puffing and heaving and focusing on just one more rep left me feeling remarkably calm and refreshed. I can leg press more than twice my body weight, just in case you were curious. My legs are strong. My arms and core . . . sigh. That's where we'll be working, Erika and I.
So I returned to my own desk after my four hour shift upstairs and my two hour lunch break. Even as I sat down to begin writing this, the word "vitriolic" came to me to replace that other not-so-nice-adjective I was cradling in my mind before. I turned on my iTunes playlist and as Warning Guitar started to float around me, I felt a distinct sense of peace. It's good to be back where I belong. The sweat on my lower back has evaporated. My muscles feel relaxed but competent. Those endorphins have done their job.
I might even look into requesting an inter-library loan online. Who knows? Maybe the website's mood has improved, too.
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