Writing Fitness

I already know I’m not in running shape. The 20 and 30 minute walk jogs of huffing and puff lace my Nikes up for every other day for are pretty substantial evidential proof of that.

I’m surprised to find out that I’m out of writing shape…mainly because I didn’t think that was possible.

Yet, here I am, sitting at home with a bag of Trader Joe’s frozen petite peas nestled on my right wrist and forearm (I have to save the ice for cocktails with the world’s worst vodka, after all), nursing what I’m certain is developing tendonitis.

A quick medical lesson for those of you aren’t familiar with tendonitis: As my oh-so-scientific-looking picture shows (And no, I didn’t draw it), tendonitis occurs when a tendon is inflamed from overuse. For the wrist, that means the thin, little muscles and tendons that move these texting, typing, dishwashing hands of mine up, down, left and right are probably throwing little temper tantrums from repetitive keyboard typing and mouse usage.

At first I was a bit afraid I was developing carpal tunnel syndrome after just eight days at my new job but realized, after a bit of Google searching, that since I’m not experiencing any numbness or tingling in my palm, thumb or index finger, that I can luckily rule that secretarial injury out the window.

But then I realized I could be developing tendonitis since my wrist and outer forearm are aching like a beeeeeeeyotch. I first noticed the pain during the final hour of my day at the office (Goodness, how American and adult and suburbanly mature do I sound saying that?!) on Monday but it subsided by the time I was drinking a beer and watching ‘Secretary.’ On Tuesday I noticed that the pain began a little bit earlier in the day and didn’t subside; it was so annoying that I couldn’t bring myself even to Facebook after getting home and carrying the basket at the grocery store was a wee bit more than my tiny wrist and skeletor forearm preferred to carry. Then yesterday the pain began around noon and didn’t go away – probably because my ‘office’ is actually a room equipped with a 24/7 cooling vent that won’t shut off which means it’s freeeeeeeeezing (Yes Mom, I’m imitating you), making me cold to the bones – and working at PB, even for the short time I did, made it worse. Cooking dinner? A nightmare. Changing the radio station while driving my car? Yowch. And don’t get me started on the anguish I had while texting.

It throbbed as I went to bed, even after washing down ibuprofen with the last dregs of my Bridgeport Hop Czar.

It throbbed as I woke up this morning, still zombified. It hurt in the shower while washing my hair, in the car while banging my steering wheel with curses at traffic.

And it hurts now, after sitting for the Channel 13’s hour of The Office with frozen peas on arm.

Hmm. Maybe I should go to the doctor (Or suck it up and stop being a wimp?).

And, from the looks of my condensation-laden bag sweating on my arm, to the grocery store to pick up some non-mushy pods.

Neighborhood Notes

As though working two jobs at 60 hours a week wasn't enough for me, I've gone ahead and taken on a new freelancing gig. I mean, what's the point of busting my butt at two non-writing jobs if I'm not going to pursue writing in all of my free time (You know, the few hours I have in between Pottery Barn, Whole Family Wellness, trying to have a social life now that I have the means to do so and that most-sacrificed past time I like to call sleep)?

Right, there is no point. So bring on the writing.

Here's the new gig: Thanks to Walker, whose company, Quarter Orange, is on a full-on marketing barrage to promote their very own short-film night at Radio Room, located on NE Alberta St. this coming Monday from 9 pm to midnight (If I'm not a good girlfriend promoting them on my sometimes-read blog, I don't know how one can define 'good girlfriend.'), I got in touch with a web site, Neighborhood Notes. On my free half-day Saturday morning I uploaded my resume as well as three writing samples (including my blog post about the Annex and some of my restaurant reviews) and by Tuesday afternoon, I was contacted to become a writer.

Talk about a quick hire. It's funny; I looked for MONTHS during the end of graduation to end up at Pottery Barn (which I of course, love but there's no denying the fact that my $130,000 piece of paper that says I graduate from UP is worth $8.50 an hour) but a whim of an application lands me a new freelancing position within four days. The world definitely works in weird ways.

Anyway, about the site: Neighborhood Notes started as a blog by a regular Portland citizen, Lynnette Fusilier, who joined the Pearl District Neighborhood Association (I love me some neighborhood associations) in 2002 and, being what I am sure is an overachiever (Hey, I've only Gmail chatted with her once), took on being a coordinator for everything Pearl District. Her blog grew in readership (which makes me think that maybe, just maybe, blogging isn't as ridiculous as it seems) and quickly bloomed into a Portland-wide phenomenon, covering every teeny tiny neighborhood that makes Stumptown the quirky city it is.

And now I get to write for the site.

I'm pretty stoked because I get paid and some pretty sweet perks too (Insert Steve Carrell as Michael Scott at the paper conference bragging about SWAG here). The pay is...okay...ranging at about $.10 a word but the perks are pretty neat, mainly because they include free tickets to shows (ballet, theatre, opera, concerts, you name it) as well as happy hour invites and hopefully, if my food writing skills come to fruition, free meals, too. I get to conduct interviews, meet new people over coffee and tea, write drafts and work on a deadline.

Deadline. I love that word; both syllables emphasize such an importance of finality. Dead -- as in, that's it; no more. Line simply brings up a myriad of cliche sayings: "No going past this line," "Crossing the line," "The finish line" or thanks to my stint at Clara's two Tuesday's ago when I watched The Biggest Loser, the dreaded Yellow Line.

Gosh, it's like I'm a real, live writer again. I've been in such a slump lately, with my column for the Regence Group all finished for the 2009 year (I'm semi-patiently awaiting the content calendar for the 2010 year), that I've felt less college-graduated-freelance-writer and more minimum-wage-worker. It's nice to know that I'll be paid for my writing from here on out (At least some of it) and that I'm about to have a much larger audience.

Anyway, expect my first article to appear on Neighborhood Notes in about two weeks; I've been handed a doozy of an assignment that's going to take some real research...

...which reminds me; the site's Writer's Guidelines instructs the writer to "write what you know." If that isn't a sign that this site is a good fit for me, I don't know what is --- Writing what I know is all I know! is one of my most basic tenets of writing after all.