Archive | April, 2012

Themes: how multifaceted

23 Apr

I am procrastinating at work as I so often do, and for some reason I decided I needed to change the theme for my blog. No, not for the substance of the posts, we all know that is simply whatever sordid ramblings rush from my brain to my finger tips at the moment. Just the appearance, the background, the minute details that are the first thing the eye sees when they stumble across said ramblings.

Guess how long it took me? I don’t even want to admit to it, so lets just say it was a while.

At some point in the middle of scrolling and clicking, judging and categorizing, I thought to myself, “what a monumental waste of time, just pick one already!” However, I didn’t stop there. No, no. I had commited myself to this pointless project, and I had to complete it. Now, if this was something I was doing for my job, any excuse would have convinced me to stop and move on, but because it wasn’t, it absolutely HAD to be accomplished.

Thinking about this now (wasting more time), a couple things run across my mind:

1. It is amzing what I can find motivation for when it is entirely irresponsible.

2. Appearances really do matter at first glance.

3. I talk to myself too much.

We won’t touch the third one today since, well, probably a professional should analyze that one at some point, but I do want to ponder the other two.

You know when you notice something and its gets in your head and all of a sudden it is of utmost importance, even though you didn’t care two minutes prior. I think that is what just happened. I decided to hop onto my page, just for a moment, and I realized I hated the way it looked. It didn’t represent me. I couldn’t imagine why I had chosen to set it up that way in the first place. Plus, I should be doing notes and those are entirely less interesting.

I am a firm believer that you should look the way you feel most confident. Maybe that means a suit and tie, and maybe that means a kimono and cowboy hat. We should be allowd to appear however we wish to in the world, because we should be who we are. This doesn’t mean every person will compliment us on our neon green platform shoes or our choppy, self-inflicted haircut, but if someone is going to judge us on what makes us comfortable in our own skin, then they aren’t people we should surround ourselves with anyway.

With that in mind, people automatically make a judgement upon their first look at something or someone. Their eyes absorb the general appearance, and process it into a category. That is not to say people can’t move past that initial impression, but it takes work to see the heart, brains, and soul underneath the skin.

How does this relate to your blog theme? Let me tell you! A piece of what makes us comfortable and confident is our ability to attract the people we enjoy surrounding ourselves with. We adapt pieces of our outward prjection to embrace those individuals who share similar beliefs, interests, and practices. My page is a representation of me. The words that compose it may be what keeps someone interested, but first glance is what gets someone to start. Just like in life.

Wow, that is not where I intended to go with that. I just impressed myself a little bit! Maybe I wasn’t being that irresponsible afterall.

Ok so maybe I was and I just wasted a good chunk of my afternoon, but at least something good came out of it in the end.

I should probably actually do stuff though.  I was going to throw in a training update, but I guess I’ll do that later…or tomorrow when I’m avoiding something else.

The Carpenter

16 Apr

I feel like its been a while since I’ve talked about adventures in the world of romance. I think part of my goal in starting to blog again was to channel Carrie from Sex and the City. I in fact want to BE Sarah Jessica Parker, but that is altogether a side note from why I started this post.

A couple posts ago, I debated the relevance of online dating (click here to satiate any curiosity). Post posting I went on a few dates off POF. The first was a dud, the night wasn’t bad, but red flags kept kicking up, and he never called me anyway. Sorry I didn’t want to go back to your place to “play 007.” Can we even recognize that as a “get in my pants” line?

Anyway, I really only went out with that one because the guy I had been talking to simultaneously and who I actually wanted to ask me out hadn’t yet. We had been exchanging messages for like 2 weeks before he even asked for my number. He didn’t want to “jump over any steps” or something. I found this endearing and I was intrigued.

We’ve been on 4 dates since, and although the beginning was entertaining and sweet, I have since begun to lose interest through no fault of the Carpenter’s (ps he’s a carpenter).

I’m sick. I want to have to work for what I want or I quickly loose interest. I like to hear someone tell me “no” because it poses a challenge. In the end, that is what happened with HB. It was too easy, I knew I had won before we even began, and the thrill of the chase was gone. I see myself falling into the same pattern with the Carpenter.

Of course every girl wants a guy to fall at her feet and tell her how amazing she is. Unfortunately, its just not enough. We need a mystery. A feeling of suspense. That’s what creates the excitment to move forward, the yearning to see what’s around the corner. When all the cards are on the table, it takes away the climax.

Our first date was simple, kind of fun, nothing extraordinary. I hinted all day that I had nothing to do that night, but it wasn’t until a couple hours before we actually planned to meet up. I should have taken this as a sign. I broke my first rule: no accepting dates the day of. I just didn’t see the harm in making an acception. We had dinner and watched a movie at my place. He was so innocent, not pushy at all, I again didn’t see the harm. Broken rule number 2: no hanging out at my apaertment for the first 3 dates. We were off to a great start.

He didn’t even kiss me at the end of the night. At the time I saw this as a sign he was respectful and a gentleman.

Date two I wanted him to plan. He didn’t. I suggested we go into Boston, I drove, I navigated, I was in control. I like being in control, its hard for me not to be, but also healthy for me to relinquish. We won’t go into the gritty details, but at the end of the night, I let him come up for a bit, he asked if he could kiss me, and we made out for a bit. Again, nothing extraordinary.

Date 3 I rescheduled 3 times. I’m a busy lady, but I did feel bad so I offered to make dinner. I hadn’t started by the time he got to my place, which was fine. It also lead to me learning an important lesson. He hovers. Every move I made caused a ripple effect. I think it was the first time I was legitimately annoyed with him, and a boundary once broken, is hard to rebuild.

We went walking after, got ice cream, and watched some of the Bruins game. I wanted him to make it up, to prove to me I was beginning to form an unwarranted opinion.

The last date we went on was a couple weekends ago. I explicitely told him to have a plan, that I was letting him take the lead. I thought maybe with the right encouragement…

He had no plan.

I chose dinner and a movie and tried to rein in the bubblying bitchiness that was floating to the surface. I had to keep reminding myself this is a good guy, its not his fault he’s not the right guy for me. When that didn’t work I had to continuously scold myself for not giving him enough of a chance. Really, he hadn’t DONE anything, but treat me like a princess. The only problem with me being a princess is that he was playing the role of jester, and I was growing impatient.

I am now in an internal debate over what to do. I don’t want to give up on him, but it is glaringly obvious to me that the liklihood of me growing to adore his shortcomings is slim.

He’s texted a few times, but I just can’t bring myself to make time for him. I feel like there should be more, but I think I just needed to write this to make sure I thought this through.

Mass Exodus from my Mouth

13 Apr

I feel as if this whole ordeal has been a bit anti-climactic. I was really looking forward to having to prove my will power despite a profusely swollen, searingly painful injury to my face.

Instead, I don’t even need the narcotics prescribed and I’m bored out of my mind because I took the whole day off work to store up my energy for the weekend. I feel as if I have been gypped (which b.t.dubbs is a derogatory term see here for your history lesson of the day).

I mean its Friday the freaking 13th! I was asking for something to go wrong and instead the most annoying part of my day was having to make a special phone call to my insurance provider because stupid CVS couldn’t find my identification number so I could fill my scripts. I mean I barely slept last night because I had psyched myself up so much and I’m not even tired.

I suppose I shouldn’t complain, and I also suppose I should explain. (ha unintentional rhyming!)

I got my wisdom teeth out this morning. The plan was simple, get it done, have the day for my body to adjust, and do a few dog sits over the weekend. Monday is a holiday so I’d even have an extra day thrown in for good measure if I was not as well equipped as I thought I was to handle this.

All week this is what I’ve heard:

“You’re crazy! You’ll be in bed all weekend!”

“You should call out sick, you won’t even be able to talk you’ll be so swollen!”

“You can’t get four out at once, you’ll be in excruciating pain!”

“You aren’t being put under?!”

“You are stupid for even thinking this is an option! How dare you tempt fate like this!”

(Ok maybe I exaggerated the last one a bit)

You get the gist. I’ll be in so much pain I’ll be incapacitated and if I try to go to work I will curse the universe for my misery, yada yada yada. I took all this to heart, but I had no other option in my mind, so I prepared myself for the worst. I imagined having to go see people with huge pads of gauze in my mouth and hobbling around just trying to keep hold of the leashes, then crawling back into bed to snatch a few precious hours of sleep before having to pull myself from the minimal level of relief to do it all over again.

Reality: The procedure took about an hour and I drove myself home afterwards. I was barely swollen at all and the little there was is now gone because I was responsible and have been icing my mouth and face. I have 12 vicodin that I may not even use as anything other than candy, because the super Ibuprofen they gave me has been more than enough – even now when all the Novocain is obviously gone. I bought a shit ton of yogurt, apple sauce, pudding, etc, and now I just feel silly and want to eat a steak to prove a point. If it weren’t for my job in the morning, I’d be planning to go out drinking tonight (I will concede that for other reasons beside work that may have been a poorly considered idea, but I’m not going now am I). Not to mention I can talk perfectly fine and move all jaw, neck, face parts easily without shooting pains.

Suffice it to say, I don’t even have to be tough to succeed in my original plan, and I’m trying not to be bitter that no one believed in me from the start.

It does look a little gross in there though…

I’m finding a sick sort of pleasure in looking at it…I almost kept my teeth to make into a necklace but one the broke cause it had a nasty cavity.

Running Updates, Easter, and Deep Thoughts with PR

11 Apr

Day I already lost track – 5 miles – walk/run

I was admittedly a slacker since my last post. Friday was an off day so check mark on that one. Saturday was supposed to be 3-5 miles walking with 10 run/walk intervals (run 30 seconds, walk 1 minute) in the last mile. Well I definitely walked at least 3 miles, probably more, but I spread it throughout the day during dog walks and there was no running involved. I figured this was ok since it was only week one and Sunday was supposed to be an off day, but I walked at least 3 miles that day as well with the pups.

Yesterday was the start of week 2. I had resolved this to be serious week since I definitely needed to work off Easter intake.

PAUSE. On a side note, can we talk about how I’m 24 years old and my daddy (yes, I still call him daddy, which is also why the thought of calling any other man “daddy” disturbs me so much) still makes me an Easter basket every year. This year I had to work on Easter Sunday so I went home Friday afternoon and we had Easter dinner/family time early. No little brother though, haven’t heard from him in a while, I should probably give him a call. The next morning my dad and I went to breakfast as is per usual when I go home, usually the best part of my weekend 🙂

Saturday my afternoon dog walk cancelled so I ended up going shopping with the rents. They spoil me rotten, my mother never really got over her need to buy my love, and I think it has only gotten more intense since I moved out. Except now I think it is less her trying to buy my love, more her trying to still feel like my mom. I may need to convince her to come make me soup when I get my wisdom teeth out this week (yeah THAT will be an upcoming post almost definitely). She made me pick out new curtains for my room, which is nice since now people on the street can’t watch me change.

Plus awesome new running shorts (I knew there was a reason this was relevant!)

The Easter basket was waiting in the car when we left the store. My dad had snuck off and put it together while mom and I looked at curtains. Sneaky bastard!

I went home that day loaded with leftover, clean laundry, my new purchases, and a bunny staring at me from the passenger seat reminding how very loved I am. My family is awesome (something it was hard to see a few years ago so I like to remind myself on a regular basis).

Anyway, back to the training. With a sugar crash bogging down my brain, a severe lack of sleep because I’m dumb and don’t sleep, and pervasive weird feeling left over from spending Easter mostly alone, Monday was rough on the motivation. I came so close to succeeding, and then the sun went down and instead of running shoes, I put on sweatpants, grabbed the rest of my sweedish fish, and watched Battlestar Galactica for the rest of the night (finished season 2 though!!).

Today was a shit day and I came close to a repeat, only with vodka instead of fish, but I got home from work early, it was a beautiful day, and I needed to feel less fat. I put on those brand new, bright pink running shorts, and out the door I went, and was so glad for it. I did today what I was supposed to do yesterday, and it was wonderful. Sometimes I think I would seriously have committed suicide already if it weren’t for endorphins (joke!).

Best part about running on the commons earlier in the evening – eye candy.

Observation of the night: people don’t look at each other anymore. We walk past one another and avert our eyes, look at the street, check our phone, but why? I do it too, and I still don’t get it. No wonder we have all lost touch with our communities, our society as a whole. We let social media connect us to one another in staged theaters of our choosing, and yet feel embarrassment at the thought of even making the simple gesture of eye contact to let the world know we are aware of its existence. No wonder we feel so alone.

And on that depressing thought, I’m going to go pump up the jam, eat some dinner and fix the shitty internet connection so I might actually get to post this tonight.

**Didn’t fix the internet connection despite an hour of resetting, unplugging, and rewiring…but it somehow was miraculously back on this morning…stupid Comcast.

Sometimes I talk more than I type

6 Apr

Day 3 – rest day – boring

Day 4 – 4.5 miles – walking/running

Walk 1 mile
Run 3 minutes every half mile
Walk 0.5 miles

I thought I would try something new because I didn’t want to write, but it ended up taking longer than just sitting down and writing a post. I had fun though and expanded my skill set so I may do it again.

Watching that again, I realized how many “umm”s there were – annoying – I promise its mostly because I was tired.

Also, my roommates effectively think I am crazy because I was talking to my computer in the kitchen. Which B.T. Dubbs, I did in the kitchen NOT my room to avoid.

Sometimes the Big Guy Decides you aren’t Pushing Yourself Far Enough

3 Apr

Day 2 – 6 (and then some) miles – Biking

Today was hard to find motivation. (I know, I was asking myself the same question: already?!) I have a few theories about that, but they are too personal for a training log.

Regardless, on the schedule for today was a 3-5 mile walk. Walking gets boring when you are doing it alone, especially for 3-5 miles. I didn’t want to do it. I decided instead I would bike 4 miles. Well 4.5 is what I plotted out on my route mapper thingy.

I got home, debated over an outfit, but then figured I should eat. In the kitchen I almost decided to skip it and just eat and get into sweats. Instead I grabbed a piece of whole grain bread and told myself I would make my chicken breast when I got back. If I let the sun go down before I got out the door, all hope would be lost.

I changed, packed a bag, looked at my bike, changed my mind. Washed my face, slapped myself in the face, and found my underlying determination again. Tomorrow I could actually skip anyway so I needed to stop being a baby. Forget that the race is in September, Vegas is in a month and I need to tone!

With my short term goal in mind, I put my bag over my shoulders, grabbed my bike and out the door I went. By the time I was at the bottom of the stairs, I had compromised with myself and decided 3 miles would be more than enough and certainly quicker than 5.

I think God was laughing at this resolution and decided to push me harder than I would push myself. I got confused, pressured by traffic, and eventually semi lost. With burning muscles, sweat dampened bangs, and a surprisingly upbeat feeling (I blame the endorphines), I finally made my way home 45 minutes later.

I started dinner (which I am anxiously awaiting as I type), then decided to see how far I ended up going. Over 6 miles! Holy shit! I stared at the screen for a moment in amazement and distress. Let me pause here and point out my bike is a Huffy Cruiser with only one gear. Not exactly road adventuring compatible, and Salem is not exactly level. No wonder why my legs are more on fire than after an animated 5 hour toss in the sack.

Anyway, I have a feeling I am not exactly over pushing myself farther than I should. Tomorrow is an off day though and I am very much looking forward to using it as a night of extended stretching.

On an side note, today I officially registered me and my running mate!! No turning back now!

On a side side note, don’t get overly excited (or horrified) that I will actually be blogging after after training day. That’s a lot of days and eventually the excitement will wear off and sink to weekly, probably bi-weekly updates. Plus, I gotta keep throwing other deep thoughts by PR right?

“The miracle isn’t that I finished. The miracle is that I had the courage to start.”

2 Apr

Day 1 – 3.5 miles – walking/running

Its been a long time since I’ve decided to call myself a runner. A couple summers ago I got it in my head that I would run a marathon with a friend from work. It was going to be this huge event where we road tripped to Tennessee, ran the marathon and road tripped back. We gave ourselves over 6 months to train and make plans.

Lets put this into perspective. I had never run any significant distance outside of necessity, ever. Also, despite, a recent drastic adjustment in body type (yes, I was the chubby kid growing up), I was still not in ideal shape for intensive training. Add into the mix that I have a tendency to think I can handle more than my body can take and I often push way past my limits, I was shooting for the moon and then some with this plan.

I did, in fact, have a plan and it went pretty well for a while. Then a couple months in, the excitement of a new endeavor faded a bit and some days motivation was hard to come by. Soon after, my morning (and by mornings I mean I was working second shift and my morning started at 9 or 10) runs became more of a chore than an adventure. I could run 5 miles straight after 3ish months, but I resented the trees I passed everyday. I had hit my brick wall, as I so often do.

I was still determined, however, so I decided maybe I’d just run the half marathon. I could do a half marathon (said the girl who had never run even a measly 5K). It wasn’t long after that the whole thing fell apart. Mostly, I blamed moving to a new area, adjusting to a new job, being unsure of the new area, the need to get settled before I could reclaim any routine…but secretly I was happy for the excuse. Then came winter and all hope was lost.

The happy ending is that I have grown since then, and I have set my sights a tad lower. I have been exercising fairly consistently for over a year now and I have some better tools to aid me. I have chosen, not a marathon, but a 5K to work towards over the next 6 months approximately. Granted I set my sights on the Rugged Maniac, an obstacle adventure 5K developed by Navy Seals…but nothing can ever just be simple right?

It is now the first week in April, perfect timing to start a training regiment. The weather is beautiful and only bound to get better while easing me into the hot months of summer, and I doubt there will be snow to deter me from my course. Granted the hype is still in overdrive, and in a couple months I am bound to hit the slump that always comes, but I have spent a good amount of time planning a schedule and plotting courses that ensure to challenge, but are realistic.

Tonight was my first official training run and it felt amazing to be out again working towards a goal. I had intended to get up and go before work, but lets be realistic here. I’d rather run at 10:00 at night then get out of bed earlier than I need to. Unrealistic goal number 1 resolved.

I’m not pushing myself to run straight through right off the bat, that would be irresponsible. Instead I walked for half a mile then alternated running for 2 minutes and walking every half a mile until the last half at which point I walked the rest of the way home. That was the plan at least, I ran more than I intended because I got bored, and let my pride get the best of me. I used to run 5 miles right, I could totally do more than that!

Even this minor deference from the plan simply added to the exhilaration for the first 2.5 miles. Then I pushed past the line I needed to not cross. I convinced myself for another half mile it was simply the natural result of my exertion that made my muscles ache and my chest hurt. Then came the searing side cramp and the realization that maybe the lunch I ate at 2:00 that afternoon, 6 hours earlier, wasn’t enough to satiate my nutritional requirements. Walking back to my apartment, staring at the sidewalk, trying my hardest not to hurl, I realized unrealistic goal number 2.

My body has since recovered, and I have adjusted my mindset. After all that is what it is all about right? Making mistakes and learning better approaches for the next time.

The one thing I need more than anything is accountability and that is where writing comes in. Writing about it, feeling some responsibility to not let my future self down, and possibly a reader or two, makes it somehow feel real. Its not my little secret hiding in the corner where it won’t matter if I fail because no one knows about it. Its in the world. Its not just my journey, its not just the voice in my head with an expectation. Someone in the world will call me out when all I want to do is give up. I vow at the start, here and now to stick to the plan, to recognize my shortcomings, to not push harder than I can reasonably expect myself to endure, but to be adamant about pushing as far as I realistically can go. Go big or go home right? But try not to die in the process.

PrettyReckless out, stay tuned.