Tuesday, December 28, 2010
It blocks out it all.... with it's steady stream of bass and lyrics and distraction. It's beauty in it's simplest form.
In it's pounding rhythm.
But then it stops.
The ringing begins.
The ringing doesn't block out the thought.
The what-ifs and what-the-fucks.
It's free reign. Open season. Every damn thing I didn't want to hear.
Didn't want to think.
Thunders in the ringing silence.
I love loud music. I just can't live there.
Although I would try. If I could.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
What gave me that push I needed?
I decided to write my paper as if it were a blog.
World of academia? Meet blogging. While I am sure you have more than a passing acquaintanceship, please understand: this seems to be the only style of writing I can manage any more.
Plus? It's slightly less boring.
I can't, however, be held accountable for the boring nature of the topic. Sorry.
(I do what I can.)
Below is what I actually submitted. I'm curious to see how this works out.
Right now, I am sitting at my desk. It’s Thursday on what feels like day 11 of a 10 day work week. One hour left to go of the working day, one more day until the weekend, but five more days until the winter break. I have yoga tonight but it means finding something productive to do after work while waiting for yoga to begin. It also means not getting home until after 8:00. When, if I just left work on time, I could be at home - glass of wine in hand and on my couch in my pjs - by 4:00.
I’m tired, it’s been a long week, and I would like nothing more than to collapse in a heap on my couch. And, to be fair, I may still decide to do so. However, I know if I stuck it out and made myself go to yoga? I’d be feeling better by the time I made it home. Even if it is 4 hours later than I would have liked. I’ll have more energy, less tension, and generally be in a better frame of mind. Not to mention the calories it will save me from not drinking wine for those four additional hours as well. Overall? Huge win for me. Should be a no brainer, right?
It’s just never that easy it seems. Clearly, if it were, the world at large (pun totally intended) would be thinner, less stressed, and healthier all the way around. We would all make the healthier choice and all live better lives for it. But most of us don’t. Because, often times, the healthier choice is not the easier choice. And it’s not that the harder option is just too hard, but more so that we lack the energy to undertake the harder option. Even if the end result is going to be an increased level of energy. It’s a hell of a catch-22, really.
And honestly, the whole idea of using exercise as a mode to achieve a better mood - if we are defining mood by an absence or decrease of the tense-tired state - is fraught with catch-22s. If I am already tired, I am certainly less likely to undertake any physical activity. Even the thought of prolonged physical activity tires me on an already too-tired day. And tension? Nothing says “let’s get physical” like a tension headache. Although I know, in the logical part of my brain that isn’t impacted by the length of my work week or the fatigue my body is feeling, that exercise is exactly the thing that will work to relieve both ailments.
I’ve always used exercise as a tool for weight loss. Period. Unfortunately, I have always had weight to lose and, therefore, have undertaken any number and variety of exercise programs. Walking. Jogging. (which was a very short lived attempt.) Lifting. Aerobics. Step-aerobics. Tae-Bo. Pilates. Truly, the list goes on and on. And, since I have always used exercise as a means of weight loss, I have always felt it necessary to push myself to the point of near exhaustion in order to feel like I was giving it my best effort. This even, at one time, resulted in a daily exercise regimen that was almost two hours in length. Obviously with the demands of real life, that was not a regimen I could maintain; when it fell apart, it fell entirely apart. It was always all or nothing for me.
Trying to reframe my preconceived notions about exercise is difficult. Truly, it has been harder than I would have expected. Although, I suppose, on many levels, anything that challenges our understanding and perceptions is uncomfortable, at the very least. For me, it goes something like this: “Ughhhh, I’m so tired. Tired and stressed - because, really, when am I not? All I want is down time, comfort food, and a beverage or two. But…. *insert new uncomfortable way of thinking here*…. I know that even 30 minutes of yoga or a brisk walk would make me feel better. And be better for me. And I need things that are better for me. My clothes have been fitting a bit too tightly recently anyway - even the clothes that are not meant to be tight. Well, then, if I’m going to commit to doing 30 minutes, I should at least commit to 60 minutes. There’s not much caloric-burning gain in only 30 minutes. Okay, an even hour it will be. I can do this. I will do this. I will feel better for having done it.”
(by the end of the work day)
“Ughhhhh, I really don’t have the energy to do 60 minutes of anything. Where’s the couch?”
When really? 30 minutes would definitely be adequate for the mood improving benefits to be felt. But instead, I get in my head that I have to put forth more than what is necessary; and I therefore end up opting out of doing it all together. It’s clearly a fault in my logic, but it’s also how my brain is wired to process the concept of exercise.
(Too many years - nay, decades - of dieting, clearly.)
What I need to do is reframe my ideas about exercise and its uses. I know the benefit to mood enhancement that I feel - that’s not something that I struggle to understand. And really, I experience that post-exercise glow more so from doing less strenuous forms of activity, so a simple walk or a few moments of yoga is more than adequate - it’s ideal. Moving forward, I would like to incorporate a daily ritual of movement - not necessarily exercise. Exercise can be done in addition - and should be, if we are to be mindful of the too-tight clothing - but I need to separate the concepts of daily activity for appropriate stress reduction and exercise for weight loss. If I can incorporate both in appropriate use and measure - and yes, make the harder but healthier choice - then surely my overall health would improve in more than one way.
For the record? It’s 4:45 already. An hour and 45 minutes past when I could have left work, but only another 45 minutes until I can head to yoga. I’ll just have a smaller glass of wine when I get home at 8:00 and find my couch still waiting for me.
All things in moderation, after all.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Wait, let me back up, as I feel this needs clarification: I am not a Gleek. It’s not that I don’t enjoy the show - its fun and I do enjoy it. But, I’m not super into it. I’m not terribly aware of all the current issues with each character and who is with whom or wants to be with someone else. Basically, if it’s on and I come across it, I watch it. I try to figure out when it is in the timeline of the show based on if the blond cheer leader is pregnant, who the teacher guy is with, and/or if the brunette “hot music geek” is currently crushing on, with, or broken up with the male “hot music geek/quarterback”.
Okay, back to the rest of my story….
The Madonna episode?
And really? I am now in love with Kurt. LOVE. It’s serious people. Like, I want him to be my (totally fictional pretend) gay bff. Because I love him. And really? I’ve never had a gay bff and that is a damn tragedy. I? Should have a gbff.
He’s snarky. He’s catty. But he’s also kind. He falls into completely impossible love. (and speaks so eloquently about it, it makes my heart ache.) ((yes, I am aware he’s a fictional character and the writers are the eloquent ones, but just suspend reality a bit with me, won’t you??)) And he would so honestly tell me if my butt looks too big in any given outfit and how much sparkle is too much sparkle. Plus, he sings. I dig that. In my head? I can *totally* sing. And since this gbff relationship will only exist in my head, it’s a perfect match.
(it’s the little look right around 2:53 that sold me, just so you know….)
Don’t get me wrong - I have gay friends. I am a big big fan of the gays. I’ve just never had a gay bff. I fear there is something inherent in me that makes me not suitable hag material and that breaks my gay-loving heart. I have friends that are hags and I am so jealous. Super jealous. I want to steal their gbffs away and go trash talking over some martinis.
I do believe I have figured out the issue though - I like guys. In fact, I prefer them to women - I mean, in the obvious way, but also as friends. I love my guy friends and a lot of my friends are guys. But they are straight and they dig me too - because I am the girl friend that is “just one of the guys”. I’ve got a lot of tomboy in me. I want to play poker. I want to watch football. I talk shit. I drink and eat like a guy. Basically, short of peeing standing up and the fact that I have all those nice soft curvy parts - oh, and the smelling nice thing - I’m kind of a dude.
I am thinking that most gay men don’t dig on tomboys… even those that are also fabulous snarky bitches. Because that? I clearly am.
Okay, so actually? listening to that is *kinda* like listening to myself. Maybe instead of being a tomboy I actually have a gayboy inside me? Which, would then explain all the obvious reasons that I like boys too.
Hmmm…. this is getting confusing.
I’m pretty sure if I had a gbff though? He could totally make sense of this.
(which really? brings this post full circle.)
“I think you’re 14 and you’re an idiot. You took a roofie from a priest. Look at your life. Look at your choices.”
(it’s like he was listening in my office or something.)
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
The problem is, I’m just not a fan of “stuff”. Stuff clutters up my house. Stuff is the, well, stuff, that I am tripping over and trying to find a place for it to collect dust for a fair amount of time. I don’t like stuff. I don’t want dvds. I don’t want cds. I don’t want games. I just won’t use them and while the thought is nice, I have enough dust collectors, thank you very much.
I do like books, but I rarely know what I want until I want it. I like jewelry, but I like to buy pieces that I want. I like clothes, but really? Clothes are tough. Half the stuff rarely fits me and usually makes me look large and in charge. (Which, I am, however, I prefer reality-defying clothes. Find me some of them and you can buy as much as you’d like.)
What do I want for Christmas? More time for myself. A vacation. Money to pay down some of my debt. A new tattoo… or two… or three.
(Hard to wrap that kind of stuff, I know.)
So, I guess lacking any other ideas, go with the old standby: liquor and wine.
2. I really am not a fan of phone calls. I prefer email conversations. Hell, even a text message will do if it needs to be a constant back and forth. But a phone call? *ugh* How incredibly arcane. I don’t know why that is or when it got to be that point - I literally used to live with the phone glued to my ear as a teenager - just ask my mom, she’d love to tell you all about it, I have no doubt. But now? Again, *ugh*.
I think, in part, I owe this disdain to my ADD tendencies. I can multi-task through an email or text conversation. Phone conversation? You’re going to expect me to actually devote that entire time to just you. I mean, really? That’s asking for a lot. Including, but not limited to, having to turn down my too-loud music in the car and not sing along at the top of my lungs. Whatever you need to say? Can’t really be that important, right? Drop me a text.
(If I’m making time to talk to you on the phone? You’re welcome. And, you must be pretty awesome.)
3. I have ADD.
(Yes, my last entry just mentioned that - I don’t have short term memory problems.)
((Well, I do, but not *that* short.))
I was never diagnosed with ADD - and it’s certainly not ADHD because there’s not a damn thing about me that’s even remotely high energy - but I have managed to learn to live in my world of organized-chaos and I only survive by “multi-tasking”…. which is what I affectionately call my inability to focus on any one thing longer than a few moments without being distracted by something else.
(I have literally checked my email 3 times and my phone twice in the time I have been typing this - as well as taking a few moments to completely zone out to some Drowning Pool.)
((I am scared to think of what I could accomplish with some Adderall in my system.))
(((Seriously, just checked my phone, FB, and email again… what was I saying?)))
4. Whenever I walk down an empty hallway? I walk in the middle. And I have the insane urge to turn cartwheels and flips the entire length of the hall. I probably can’t do cartwheels any longer and I wasn’t ever able to do flips, yet, in my head? I’m freaking Mary Lou Retton. (or Keri Strug, take your pick.) Either way? cartwheel, flip, flip, double flip, stick the landing. 10.0 10.0 10.0 10.0 and 9.2 (the German judges are a bunch of haters.)
Fortunately (for myself and whatever unfortunate person would find my crumbled form in the middle of the hallway), I have fought this urge.
5. I have a love/hate relationship with food. I love it. I hate that I love it. I am powerless in its grips.
For real, you guys. It’s a sickness.
I love to eat. I fight the urge to eat almost constantly. Because, if I didn’t? I could be a hair under 600 pounds within the year.
One medical condition that makes my metabolism slow as shit running uphill and another that saps my energy on a daily basis…. you add an obscene influx of food to that combination?
Six. Hundred. Pounds.
(Someday they will remove me from my house on a forklift and none of you will be surprised as you’ve now been forewarned.)
((clearly I won’t be doing any cartwheels at that point.))
6. I like the idea of horoscopes. Not so much the “Today you will be surprised by a voice from the past. Beware of drafts, your health is at risk.” type of stuff, but more so the descriptions of the various signs. I fit many of the typical “Libra” traits and characteristics. A disproportionate number of my friends are Libras and Virgos. I have had some crazy chemistry with Leos. I just believe there is *something* to it. Although, who knows, maybe it’s just me trying to make sense out of a senseless world. Nothing wrong with that.
I will admit though - when I want to understand someone better or I am curious about them in general? I check out their sign. It can be very enlightening. Seriously.
7. Speaking of making sense out of a senseless world, I don’t buy in to organized religion. I don’t have any problem with people who do…. as long as they’re not selling their particular brand of religion my way. I’m not buying it. In fact, I’m not even in the market. Hell, I’m not even window shopping, so stop with the hard sell.
I’m not a Christian. Sorry, if that’s a problem, but it’s not for me. I dig JC. I’m sure he was a really good person with the most excellent intentions and love for his fellow man. However, I don’t follow him. Doesn’t make me a bad person - just as I don’t believe others who do follow him are inherently “good” - but it is part of who I am. I’m sure there will be, could be, likely should be, some sort of lengthy discourse on this - because believe me, I’ve come up against some interesting questions when I’ve had conversations with people about my beliefs, but…. that’s a blog post all it’s own.
8. I do, however, believe in reincarnation. So, yes, I also believe in an afterlife… it’s just not the Judeo-Christian version of it.
But, again, a blog for another time.
9. I love David Boreanez.
And Paul Rudd.
And Ed Robertson.
The absolutely most ironic/funny/perplexing thing to me is that I have - all my life - fallen for the blue-eyed blonds and redheads. Always. My husband? As Irish looking and freckled as they come.
10. I love what I do. But I don’t see myself doing it forever. Which, given the massive amount of student loans I racked up in reaching this point, might seem a little ill-advised. But, I just don’t. I don’t actually ever see myself doing any one thing for very long. I am a bit of a nomad - if not in actual domicile, then certainly in spirit. And I think if it were a viable option, I’d actually be a bit of a nomad in every way.
(Oh, or maybe more of a gypsy. Gypsies are all mystical and cast curses and stuff, right? Yeah, then I want to be a gypsy.)
((No mere nomad for this girl!))
I’ll do this for awhile though. Max out my post-grad education as quickly as possible, pay off my loans as I can, then pursue my PhD.
(yeah, you read that right: the foul-mouthed, inappropriate, gypsy-misfit is going to be a PhD, what of it?)
In my wildest dreams? Like, my when-I-hit-the-lottery dreams? I’d finish my PhD and open a therapeutic retreat for people with MS and their families. Make it all about holistic and spiritual health. On the beach, of course, because that’s my therapy right there.
(I know. My wildest, when-I-hit-the-lottery, dreams could use some work. I mean, really, how lame am I??)