Charming, but single

The last few days have been pretty hectic. I have this backlog of things to do at work -- they gave me a list of things to do before I even started the job, and I've barely made a dent in it. I'm confident that I'm doing a good job, I just don't quite have a handle on things the way I want to. Yet. I am the world's most impatient person. Part of it has to do with the abundance of confidence I have in myself publicly. Privately, I may have second thoughts and concerns and whatnot, but publicly I put a brave face forward and act like I know what I'm doing at all times. Even when I'm totally lost, swimming in acronym stew and drowning in paperwork. That's just how I am. Last night (Wednesday), we did martini night. This time it was just girls, which was fun and bit more relaxed. I do genuinely TRY to be my charming self around everyone I meet. However, I know people far more genuine than I who can't pull that off. Mixed-gender conversations tend to be a touch filtered and censored. So, I didn't mind not having the guys around. Work, gossip and sex (and gossip about sex) were the main topics. Slightly shallow at times, but we all spend most of our days in classes or cubicles talking, writing and thinking about serious and, at times, unfun and difficult things. A little girlie talk is about all I can muster after eight hours of meetings and e-mails and to do lists and whatnot. Tomorrow I get my first new job paycheck, which will be nice. I agreed to work at the store all day Saturday, which I'm sure I'll regret Saturday morning, but appreciate at about 7 p.m. that evening when I walk with some cash. Saturday, I'm hoping to get back into my fun social life -- I used to be crazy and busy and fun and energetic on the weekends, but now I'm old and tired and boring. How ironic that when I was broke and working a crappy job, I was constantly out with friends and now that I'm in a cool job making much better money, my social life is sucking. (Things will get better, I swear. Otherwise I might have to change the blog name to "Boring, but single : a journal in sleeping and eating unhealthy food.") Next week, I plan to commit myself to my New Year's Resolution, which was to work out AT LEAST three times a week. (That lasted about two weeks, tops. But seriously, why have a gym membership if I'm never going to go the gym?) I'm not usually one for resolutions, but I generally feel better both physically and emotionally when I work out regularly, even if only for 45 minutes a day. In the perfect world, I'd do cardio Monday and Wednesday and weights Tuesday and Thursday, capped off with a relaxing yoga on Sunday, but that might be pushing it. (Plus, I stopped doing weights months ago, so I'd have to meet with my trainer to get a new workout. My trainer is great -- she's a normal-sized woman who is more concerned with wellness and fitness than numbers and such -- but she won't take the excuses I've been peddling recently. ) Man, five days a week of working out is going to severely piss me off. I hate myself already. You heard it here first -- next week: still single and charming, but with at least a triple dose of bitchy!