Fitnitiative

Spin-tacular

2010-12-21T19:35:00.000-08:00

Every now and again when I'm building spin playlists...

Wait, let me pause for a moment and address something: The other day my trainer warned me that when I teach my programs, I can't call them "spin" classes because apparently it's a trademarked name and I can be sued. So, I am attempting to transition into calling what I do "cycling" or some variation.

Anyway - as I was saying...

When I google playlists for *ahem* cycling, I am always nothing short of appalled at the song choices that people have. I have cycled to some wild stuff, trust me, but for the most part I know people need a seriously awesome cadence to keep them in the game - especially toward the end of a 60-minute class when the carbs have burned out of their bodies and their quads and hamstrings are functioning through sheer will power alone.

I find most of the songs that others choose to be without emotion or emphasis behind the cadence - I believe in using songs that evoke a mental image for a lot of people - or at least have the potential to. And maybe not everyone's workout has as big of a mental component as mine, but hell, maybe they've never had someone conjure those emotions through the power of loud music and a piece of equipment with two wheels. And that's what I aim to do when I build cycling programs...

Encourage you to leave it *all* on the floor - sweat, tears, pain, anger, frustration. Nothing left but pure power.

Beach Boys - Help Me Rhonda (warm up and stretch)

Michael Jackson - They Don't Really Care About Us (hover hill climb)

Glee Cast - Burning Up (seated to hover hill jumps)

Eminem - No Love (seated climb to push backs)

Black Eyed Peas - Pump It (jump sprints)

Bruno Mars - Grenade (hover hill climb)

Matt and Kim - Daylight De La Soul Remix (jogs/isolations)

Devedas - Dola Re Dola (4 count / 4 positions jumps with variations)

Ting Tings - That's Not My Name (fast hover hill climb)

Basement Jaxx - Raindrops (8 count / 4 position jumps)

The Rolling Stones - Start Me Up (push back jumps)

Phil Collins - I Don't Care Anymore (seated hill climb to cool down)

Jeff Buckley - Last Goodbye (cool down and stretch)

Hurt so good

2010-11-16T10:48:00.000-08:00

Originally, I had a post on the docket about the (now infamous) "Twinkie diet" - but since then there have been *several* wonderful blog entries on the topic by Registered Dietitians and other professionals in the wellness world: much like this one.

What has also been on my mind in the past couple of weeks has been pain and pain management. This is a subject near and dear to my heart, as I have been an advocate of natural pain management my entire adult life. A couple weeks ago - seemingly out of nowhere - I began to experience a significant pain in (what seemed to be) my right rhomboid major. For me, any muscular pain is frustrating in the very least as it requires me to assess and reassess what part of my routine was the probable cause for the discomfort and take extra time to stretch the troubled muscle. After consulting with my trainer and receiving some target stretches, I began what I thought would be a short rehabilitation process.

A few days passed, and the pain did not budge. In fact, not only had it intensified, but I began to suspect that it wasn't muscular at all. Burning, not throbbing or dull aching, was the afflicting sensation. I scheduled an appointment with my doctor as soon as possible and that following Monday I was diagnosed with shingles.

Let's just skip over the whole "I have no idea how this happened because I haven't been sick (not even a cold) in over 10 years and my family can't remember me having chickenpox EVER" part. Instead, let's focus on the point of the blog entry - the pain.

If you Google "Shingles," the most common phrase you'll find is "Extremely painful." If you dig deep enough (as I did, obviously), you'll find several forums with people sharing their experiences dealing with Shingles - some even claiming to resort to narcotics to deal with the pain. The horror stories I found were all quite disconcerting to me, as even though shingles was not the easiest thing to deal with, it surely wasn't as bad as some people (my age, mind you) were making it out to be. Yes, yes, yes - I know that it's possible that some people's pain could have been more intense, but I assure you that this was an INTENSE pain. It wasn't a walk in the park. My point is - there are several ways to manage pain without resorting to either over-the-counter or prescribed medications. Unfortunately, we live in a society that (metaphorically and literally) shoves medication down our throats at the first twinge of discomfort!

Now, there is nothing exceptional about my biology or body composition that allows me to endure pain - nothing abnormal, no over-active adrenal glands or anything of the sort. I am your average run-of-the-mill healthy 20-something who has suffered injuries and illness (albeit the latter not in many, many years) much like anyone else. The difference, I think, between myself and others is that I have made myself *aware* of the capabilities of the human body to endure and function through pain. I *believe* that my body *benefits* from feeling pain - because when I do feel discomfort in its uninhibited form, I am in the best position to correct it - and I never forget what needs attention and work. This philosophy was first tested when I broke my knee at age 19, when I suffered a 3rd degree ankle sprain in 07, and solidified when I ruptured my L4/L5 in the fall of 09. Various other small inflictions and injuries between the most significant ones were also healed without the aid of medication, only resorting to anti-inflammatory medication when the pain was intense enough to affect my thought processes.

Do I think I'm Superwoman? Hell no. Do I think other people can do exactly what I've done? Yes! It takes nothing more than considering the possible long-term consequences *not* of the medications themselves (I'm not a doctor or a pharmacist, although I've heard that too many meds can negatively impact certain organs), but of the *mindset* that people have when it comes to the slightest discomfort. If you're constantly seeking a "quick fix" and you're unwilling to allow your body to tell you what needs attention - when will you ever truly *feel* anything? Yes, back pain is one of the most awful experiences one can ever have - I know this first-hand. HOWEVER, allowing myself to *feel* my back tell me exactly what was wrong and where it needed attention, I was able to rehabilitate the injury over the course of several months. Had I just popped pain-killers daily, I would have been masking something that needed work - ignoring it until it screamed so loud that I couldn't shut it up.

I believe the aforementioned hypothetical scenario is why so many people are in chronic pain these days. Nobody is too busy to listen to their own body, and nobody is too weak to stand up to pain and let it run its course. I urge people in my life every day to realize their potential when it comes to many things: nutrition, time-management, fitness, and pain management. We are born at full capacity and it is only we who allow that capacity to be whittled away slowly but surely until we are convinced that nothing but a bottle of Tylenol can make the pain subside.

Be strong. Live well. You are worth it.

An open letter to the Fat Waitress

2010-10-21T07:02:00.000-07:00

Hi, FatWaitress -

Remember me? The blog you suddenly stopped commenting on when I invited you to meet with me in person to have a more in-depth exchange of ideas? I can only assume that you were afraid of gross inadequacies on your part. After all, you do misread everything and warp it (not even in a rhetorically-savvy way, either) to fit your agenda, so I can see how you would be lacking when confronted with the arguments in person. It's hard to back down, then.

I will see you then, as this silent, faceless, nameless individual who spreads propaganda but fails to engage in substantive discussions and accept critique. I have removed all of said propaganda from the ladies locker room here at WSU, by the way. It's just too bad that Wednesdays happen to be my rest day and I wasn't there to eliminate it sooner.

People at the gym love their bodies - they love their bodies more than you love yours. Why? Because they care about them inside as much as they do out. And you should be grateful - because the longer we live to pay into social security and medicare, the more money you'll have to leach off of when you're diabetic and riddled with heart disease.

There is nothing beautiful about being unhealthy. Your promotion of it is disdainful and sad, much like your life. You spend your time writing pointless letters to clothing companies - slapping propaganda around that falls on disinterested eyes. It's pathetic. You could be spending that time not trying to be thin or "dieting," but simply leading a healthy life - just like all of those women who frequent that locker room are doing.

I can only hope you'll continue to tape your posters and flyers around, because it gives me even more gratifying opportunities to tear them down.

And... modify them:

Dysplasia and Determination

2010-10-12T10:44:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite hashtags to use on Twitter is #livingwithinjury. In fact, one of the biggest reasons I decided to make strides toward becoming ACE certified is to be able to share my story with others who may be battling against some seemingly-impossible hurdles. The battle of mine that has been known to most is the injury I sustained a little over a year ago - an acute rupture of my L4/L5 - a special case, as it ruptured into my spinal cord rather than to the side as most disc ruptures usually do. It has been a long road in these short 14 months - many nights spent silently crying myself to sleep from a pain and discomfort from which no position could yield relief. Yes, I admit that a large reason why the road has been so challenging is because I refuse to take pain medication - but trust me, I'd rather feel the *true* situation than numb it, disregard it, and forget about what it takes to correct it. Couple this physical pain with the stress of beginning my graduate/professional career and a long, drawn-out breakup and you have the potential for disaster. I look back and realize how many times I could've lost control - how many times I could've given up.

And while the life-long fragility of my spine is the most difficult challenge I face as someone with a passion for personal fitness, it is not the only one I've had to rise above.

I was born with a mild form of hip dysplasia. While this has not been too big of a deal in my everyday life, it consistently poses challenges to my fitness. Today, I found myself lying on the mat at the gym with the intention of stretching, instead pondering how the inescapable/unchangeable grand design of my body throws a wrench in my ability to execute (flawlessly) certain maneuvers. Instead of accepting it, I have always battled against it. I have refused to succumb to some form of biological determinism - to accept the notion that somehow I was never meant to achieve peak physical ability. Also - for most people, these small details do not matter - after all, they didn't matter to me until recently.

I stand at 5'8" tall and my legs are 28 inches long. To give you a better visual, my younger sister and I have the same leg length - she stands 5'1" tall. Legs as short as mine supporting a torso as long as mine have made my legs both notoriously strong and vulnerable at the same time. Dysplasia also causes the legs to bend slightly inward at the knee joint - in the most basic visual, the femur and the tibia/fibula are maligned at the patella. Ok, perhaps that wasn't too basic - but suffice to say, this causes one to battle their own personal geography. For me, personally, there are several exercises that I struggle with, not due to being out of shape, but due to fighting to keep my legs/feet in a position that elicits the proper bodily response - the position that respects the integrity of the kinetic chain.

The moral of the story has always been and will always be - keep fighting. There are times when my trainer will point to the "fire" that I have, the passion and stubborn determination that will keep me repeating an exercise over and over again for days on end until I get it right - until I train my body to respect the kinetic chain that I wasn't born with.

And whenever I feel sad about the pain or the difficulty, I think about how much worse things could be. I think about how my hard work has paid off despite the fact that it will always take me longer than others to reach certain goals. Therefore, through all of my experiences I hope to encourage others to realize that their potential goes farther than what the body attempts to convince them that they can't do. Perhaps there are exceptions to the rule, but there are always varying degrees of defiance. :)

I didn't ask to be born with dysplasia, but if I choose to let it dictate my life - I certainly will have asked for the feeling of failure that comes along with it.

Never let anyone, or anything convince you that you're not worth it or that it's not possible. Whatever "it" is - make "it" happen!

Mystery, newness, and of course...

2010-10-05T09:08:00.000-07:00

Flirting

After being in a relationship for a while, I completely forgot what it felt like to exchange text messages and share an aim window with a new person - one who sparks your interest, even if ever so faintly in those few days since you made your internet acquaintance.

Why are some people still afraid of dating websites? It's healthy to put yourself out there, to know what you want from a new friend or potential partner, to get all dressed up and meet someone for the first time... wondering if they're gonna think you have a goofy smile or if they'll make you laugh so hard that you snort...

Oh how embarrassing! And that's the excitement! What will this person think of me? Will they ever call me again? Will they walk to their car thinking "Wow, she's even more amazing in person."

I think it's unfortunate how our society sometimes views, what a good friend of mine once referred to as, being the master of one's own destiny. Taking control, knowing what you deserve, and going for it. It feels good. It feels empowering.

So, I say - go for it! At the very least, it gives you something more than the mundane to look forward to. :) And above all, it's healthy!

The elusive third component

2010-09-24T08:08:00.000-07:00

Because I am devoted to wellness, and this is comprised of not only fitness and nutrition but the state of our emotions as well - I feel that it is necessary for me to do all in my power to maintain a healthy state of mind. After all, how can I presume to coach people around working through their anxieties, stress, and emotional baggage without doing the same for myself?

That said, it has been a while since I have felt a negative emotion that hasn't been shaken by endorphins. Furthermore, it is even more disconcerting to me that walking into my classroom this morning didn't distract my mind from what currently plagues it. Perhaps it would have been better if I actually had a lesson to teach this morning instead of the silence of students peer editing their rough drafts, but nonetheless, here I sit as hurt and ireful as I was when I fell asleep last night.

So what does one in my situation do? Without disclosing anything too personal, I know that the reason I am pulling such a heavy weight is because this specific situation does not have a remedy - it leans on the actions of another, that which I cannot control - and those actions have not and will not change. This person does not want to change and their inability to comprehend the impact is jarring. My battles to be accommodating are catching up to me. I am buckling in a way I never thought possible.

Deep down I know that I can't give up - it's just that at this point I'm not sure what it is that I'm battling through. I've lost sight of the goal, if there's even one left at all. At the very least, at the bottom of the barrel, I'll have to create a new goal - something else to work toward - something clearly defined, tangible, foreseeable. Nobody can form a path without an end in sight. I know in spin class when the climbs are nearly impossible and my quads and hips scream for me to sit my ass down, I envision something at the top of that imaginary hill - and I keep moving. On the verge of what some days feels like a miracle, my legs just keep powering through those cycles because I want to get to that image, that future, so badly.

I want to know where we're going, where I want to be. I know you're not going to tell me where you want to be, because you never know and I'm tired of asking - literally, I'm emotionally exhausted - spent. So for the first time in well over a year, it can no longer be about you anymore. I have to take the advice that my graduate directer gave me (of which I had no idea what to do with until now) and that is - be more selfish. Yes, I need to feel what I felt last night and what I still feel this morning. I need to acknowledge the pain, the frustration, and the disappointment. We're human. We cry, our bodies react to our minds, at times we lose control - and it's ok. The affectual attunement consumed me last night and I passed out floating on a wave of tears. This morning I woke with the lingering taste of vomit and a faint abdominal pain from retching.

What is more important, though, is what did not happen this morning. I did not crawl back into bed. I brushed my teeth, I ate breakfast and I went to the gym just like I do every morning. The only difference is that this time it was with a heavier heart than ever before. But I still made it. And I'll continue to. I'll find the new path - I'm just not sure I'll see you there. I hope to - but that's not up to me and I'm afraid you'll never be able to decide.

Nutrition labeling

2010-09-19T13:35:00.000-07:00

If you're anything like me, you have veggies on the brain! I spend a considerable amount of my day thinking about how to cook certain vegetables and looking up new recipes for all the veggies in my fridge. I often find myself spending WAY too much time standing in the aisles of the farmer's market examining new produce that I haven't worked with yet - frantically looking up their stats on my phone, planning meals in my notebook. Needless to say, I'm a veggieholic. Through my knowledge (and passionate pursuit of more) I could easily live off of veggies - in fact, I rarely eat meat as is.

So the burning question remains: Why not just *be* a "vegetarian?"

The answer, for me, is three fold: Nutritonal, Psychological, and Ideological.

Nutrition:

Although there are healthy ways to maintain a balanced, nutritional diet as a vegetarian, the same can easily be said about we omnivores. Not all meats are healthy and I would say that it's definitely more difficult to prepare meat in a healthy way than it is to make veggies. I know people who are struggling to shed pounds who admit that a big reason is their lack of knowledge when it comes to preparing lean meats in a *lean* way. People also suggest that it's easier to fry chicken instead of bake it (this I don't really understand - the best I can come up with is it's what they're used to so it's an auto-pilot activity). Regardless of the individual qualms with the kitchen, certain meats can (and do) pack great nutritional power.

There's a current push for grass-fed beef and there's always the tried and true free range meat - e-coli and anti-biotic free meat is the way to go for what I call "undercover" health. With the exposure that the food industry is currently experiencing, good quality meat can only become more prevalent and accessible (we hope)! By the way - the opposite of "undercover health" is "on top of the sheets" health which deals with the way we cook our food as opposed to all the stuff inside of it that we can't see ;)

Full disclosure: I do not eat red meat or pork. I'm a chicken and fish type of gal.

Psychology:

This is really simple - if I call myself a vegetarian, that means there are foods that I "can't have." Putting limitations on oneself, for some people, can make eating feel like a chore. I never want to look at a menu and say "Oh, I can't eat that." I'd rather look at a menu and say "Oh, I don't want to eat that." For some people, meat is unappealing either because they just don't like the taste, it doesn't agree with their digestive system, or their ethics prevent them from eating animals. For those individuals, abandoning meat is not a chore. For those who have enjoyed meat and have faith in the food chain, walking away from meat will likely feel like a restriction - and viewing your nutrition as restrictive will almost always backfire.

Ideology:

I love animals. I adore them. Seeing videos and pictures of the way animals are treated in slaughterhouses makes me incredibly sad and angry. The reality, for me, is that regardless of whether or not I eat meat, the industry will not change. I can do my part to buy organic meat and promote local farms, but ceasing consumption is not going to save the lives of animals. I also believe that if we let all of the animals live and breed freely, we'd be overrun - and the planet is already crowded. Am I being rather reductive with all of these points? Yes - all of it deserves a larger, more substantive conversation and I acknowledge that - but for the purposes of this blog, I choose to simply gloss the concepts and ideologies.

All in all, while I love nutrition labels on my food items, I don't desire to wear one myself. :)

Acceptance or denial?

2010-09-05T08:12:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, a Facebook acquaintance (that sounds hilarious) of mine blogged about a particularly shitty experience. In short, she was purchasing a new pair of gym shoes when some miserable bitch decided to speak her mind and spit some variation of "you're too fat to be in a gym, why are you buying running shoes?"

Disgusting and problematic, right? Right.

The thread that followed proved to be equally problematic, as women began to come out of the woodwork in support of her - *not* just in agreement that the worthless woman in Footlocker should be slapped, but in support of being fat. To be completely honest right out of the gate: This frightened me. It still frightens me. Even when I was obese, the entire "body acceptance" movement eluded me. I never thought that feeling slow, sluggish, and less than able was something desirable or acceptable. I never thought that being at-risk for so many diseases was ok - and I definitely never felt like any of this was worthy of being considered "beautiful."

But it didn't end there. Not only were these women (the author included) claiming that it is "ok" to "love your fat body," but the primary reason cited for "body acceptance" was "genetic obesity." Half way between a laugh and a furrowed brow, I stared at the screen of my iPhone wondering how I would ever reply to this without sounding like a complete asshole. I could see inside the minds of these women - I knew where they were coming from because I had been there. I had been in the typical position that leads one to believe their body type is genetic: try to lose weight, fail, feel like shit, accept being fat in order to retain sanity. It's a survival tactic, and it is entirely understandable. This does not make it right.

What I attempted to convey - and only now do I remember that Facebook is not and has never been the venue for debate of any sort - is that this "genetic predisposition" is not to "storing fat," but to sedentary lifestyles. Many people point to their family members' similar struggles with weight and claim they inherited the extra inches. And of course, people choose to cite research tailored to further their own agenda (this goes for almost anyone) - but on the topic of genetic obesity, a large majority of the research (if you read the entire article/study) indicates that the "obesity gene" is not, in fact, a "gene" at all. Instead, so-called "genetic obesity" is merely the inheritance of a lifestyle. A lifestyle predominantly held by Americans. Furthermore, most of the recent research on "genetic obesity" and the "obesity gene" has a very alarming, very telling discovery: The key to "combating" the obesity gene is ... exercise. Anti-climactic, right? Very. Yes, you read it right - movement. Ladies and gentlemen, you can battle "genetic obesity" by burning fat. Who would've thought?!

One of the biggest issues I have with the argument for genetics is that it seems to plague only Americans. As we know, the United States is a melting pot of culture - incredibly diverse - a genetic goulash! So, why is it that across all of these genetic makeups, it is within THIS CULTURE that the highest percentage of people suffer from hypertension, diabetes, joint and muscle pain, high cholesterol, etc? And more importantly, why would anyone want to live like this? Even if you're in a state of ignorant bliss, don't tell me that you can ignore how difficult it is to perform an act as simple as picking something up from the ground.

When it comes down to it, obesity is not a gene, it's a lifestyle - it's cultural. We have an epidemic in the United States and we cannot be rid of it with medicine. Believe it or not, this is great news. The cure for obesity is relatively cost-free, but unfortunately most Americans are so indoctrinated into being "busy" and "on-the-go," they fail to stop for a moment, breathe, listen, and take care of themselves and their families.

Keep in mind that health is not about perfection. It's not about being a size 2, and it's not about having perfect abs. This is not about running down the beach giggling only in all the "right" places. This is not about running marathons or being "vegan." Ladies, let me assure you that I know plenty of beautiful, healthy, active women who are curved and rock a size 12 like you wouldn't believe. But the difference is, the majority of their weight is from muscle, not fat. They can lunge, and squat, and spin, and press weights. They don't "diet," but instead they have a lifestyle that doesn't include consuming double their recommended calories or an excess of processed foods. But the most important thing about these women (myself included) is that they are not concerned with what society thinks about what size jeans they wear. You cannot begin a healthy journey until you are above the influence. Attempting to rally against ridiculous body images will make you nothing but bitter - and that bitterness will find you in a state of rebellion, eating whatever you want in whatever quantity because you believe it's somehow a statement about "loving yourself."

You're hurting yourself. You're killing yourself. You're lowering yourself to the same behaviors that you claim to hate and there are people around you who know how to successfully abandon this attitude in favor of a healthier one. A healthier mind is the natural beginning to a healthier body.

That said, are there some people who can eat whatever they want and never gain a pound? Yes. Are they going to avoid high cholesterol and arteries full of sludge? Probably not. But I don't think anyone would argue that some people have to bring a bit more attention to their physical activity and intake in order to remain at a healthy weight - but what I fail to understand is how this makes it ok to be fat? What I fail to understand even MORE is when/how people decided that it's IMPOSSIBLE to lose the weight and keep it off?

One of the women in the thread claimed that no degree of healthy eating, exercise, sleep and stress management could take weight off of her body. Another woman claimed that there is no way to lose a large amount of weight in a slow, healthy way and keep it off. A very short, open letter to the both of them: You're wrong, and I feel for you. My 60 lb weight loss came across 3 years! That averages out to .05 lbs a day! For those good at math, you know that's .35 lbs a week - well under the recommended "healthy" weight loss (which is .5 - 1 lb a week). My nutrition was never perfect from the start - but I dedicated myself to learning about intake, healthy alternatives, discipline, intuitive eating. I challenged myself and I'm rewarded daily for that challenge. There is nothing unhealthy or impossible about my story - so why should you condemn yourself to believing that you can't achieve the same?

I once thought I was "big boned," "a brick house," "genetically obese." Many of my family members are overweight, diabetic, and unhealthy. I once thought "this is just who I am." I couldn't have been more wrong. I feel sorry for people who cannot just admit that they want to be fat - that they want to carry excess weight around and allow it to surround and impact their vital organs - to raise everything from their blood pressure to their health insurance costs.

I maintain that these women have not been part of a sustained, disciplined, and diverse physical routine.
I maintain that these women do not educate themselves about proper nutrition - that they likely believe that eating well means going on a "diet."
I maintain that these women think they're genetically obese because they have obese family members.

I ask that you stop blaming it on genetics and take responsibility for your actions. I ask that you realize the beauty, power, and potential that you have. Exercise (literally!) that potential and stop existing and start living.

Endurance: Episode II

2010-01-03T20:11:00.000-08:00

The last time I wrote a blog in this space, I had survived yet another Michigan winter. I was drinking tea, and thinking about the "inevitability of things." I am here now in the midst of another winter, drinking tea, and thinking about... what inevitably happened from that day in April of last year to this moment.

Obviously I've struggled to blog for nearly a year. I'd love to lie and say that this hiatus was a personal choice, a voluntary one - but lies just aren't my style. What is more aligned with honesty is the fact that the past 9 or so months have been more incredible than I could have imagined and more difficult than I could have ever fathomed. Those are pretty much always a packaged deal, right? Let's review this, shall we?

In the past year, I have:

-Reached a goal of losing 50 lbs and became the healthiest and most thin I have been my entire adult life.

- I quit smoking. In February of this year, it will have been one entire year.

- I was accepted into a PhD program on a fellowship and am now living my dream of teaching English and working with adults who struggle with language and literacy. For so many years I have wanted nothing more than to help others become effective communicators and last year I realized the beginning of that goal.

- I fell in love with the man of my dreams and every day with him is better than the last.

- I met my real father and we're in the process of building what I hope to be a long, healthy father/daughter bond.

Also this year:

- My lifestyle change has alienated me. I don't enjoy the activities I used to and therefore, I lost friends - not out of any malice, but just... distance. At times, it hurts.

- I am in the process of realizing that I have deeply-rooted issues with my Mother. I've always known they were there somewhat, but I never faced them head-on. I'm trying to, but it's very painful and those emotions attempt to penetrate nearly everything I do. Every day I make a concerted effort to work through everything I've ignored and pushed down.

- My relationship with my Grandmother has been strained from all the other pressures that have virtually eliminated what little patience I had before. She's my best friend and I haven't kept my end of our friendship, but I'm working on it and I resolve to work even harder every day.

- I suffered an acute rupture of a disc in my lower back. This injury was more painful mentally than it was physically. The injury has kept me from running - my favorite activity. I'm working on training to get my lumbar region in shape so that the muscles in my back can sustain the impact of running again.

All the beauty and the achievements and the struggle and the pain have made it nearly impossible for me to gather it all into any coherent thought.

Most of the days my head would spin, my heart would race, my eyelids would tremble - but nothing came out any further than words from a very weakened state, vocalized to one person. Instead of finding the strength to sort it out and write it down - I leaned on the person I love most. But people tell you that leaning on someone isn't a bad thing - pop songs tell you that you should be able to do that - there's a lot of common knowledge that suggests your weaknesses can be absorbed by the strengths of others. While I don't necessarily disagree with that, I believe in approaching it with the same philosophy that I apply to other aspects of my life: everything in moderation. Unfortunately, I buckled, lost my grip and fell into excess.

What means more than this blog entry, than beginning this journey again, are those very words that have fallen on his ears so many long hours, long days, and sleepless nights. If you've ever read my journals before (in the past, or as recent as found here), you may have the ability to imagine what it might be like to deal with that level of intensity day in and day out. He not only dealt with it - but he pushed me to keep going, he supported me when I was confused, he accepted my tormented past and stuck by me as it clearly impacted our present - he's stronger than he gives himself credit for.

It's his brand of strength that I have always needed. My brand of strength - the kind that I grew up surviving on - is no longer necessary, it is no longer constructive and it is no longer functional. Yes, the old strength kept me going but I firmly believe it was meant to bring me to this transitional period in my life. I fought, and I made it - and now, it's time to let go a little, relax the tension and the constant need to battle. I used to say, "everyone has something to prove." I still believe that, but I no longer believe that you have to knock others down in order to gauge your worth. So, that said - here's to the new strength - and with it, a new motto:

"Feel the fear. Move through it. Do it anyway." - JM

I will move through my fears. I won't try to push as hard as I can on others to rise above those fears. I promise you.

Endurance

2009-04-05T20:48:00.000-07:00

When you're tea-drunk it's very easy to almost post a personal blog to your class blog. Strongly advise against blogging while tea-drunk.

And I've been thinking about the inevitability of things...

That it's sure to happen someday - soon or a little later - that I'll forget you and you'll forget me and that'll be functional. Because it's already happening in small degrees - different structures - opposite paths - flying two different kites and even sharing the same gust of wind isn't enough.

So quickly people pass in and out of each other's lives, and most often times they lie to themselves about being around forever - about never leaving - swearing that distance can't possibly be a factor. It's wrong - they're wrong. Distance will always wedge - time zones, hours, days... even non-physical distances - you're five feet away but in your mind you're miles away from any point we could meet. And as we get older, the effort becomes too much - always busy trying to build a life, trying to play house, HURRY HURRY I HAVE TO GROW UP AND FILL THE GAP.

That dreaded gap. Emptiness. Chasm. It hurts, doesn't it? That's why there are two parts to every event - one foot in the door just in case - and if it doesn't work out, you never fully committed anyway. It makes it easier, it lifts the guilt - at least until you hit the pillow at night and fail to fall asleep for hours, claiming a sort of natural insomnia brought on by forces supposedly external to your control. We fool ourselves in this way. It was the tea, the red bull, the ex, the job - never our own mind - never... our own fault.

I've been thinking so much lately about theoretical spaces, that I haven't been paying attention to the actual ones - the space in between two people. The divide. The inevitable divide.

You can easily be forced into a corner. You can easily sink down, pull your knees to your chest and regard the rest of the room, determining that for now there's no possible way to go sprinting out without being noticed. But they can't stay here forever - they'll leave and then it'll be easy to bid the same four walls goodbye.

It's only a matter of time before you turn in. Question is - will I take his hand and allow him to help me up from the corner, or will I wait until you're all gone and slowly, inevitably, make my exit.

Academic writing wears me out at times

2009-03-17T16:42:00.000-07:00

I've been doing a lot of research, lately - some of it for my book and some for class. Sometimes I feel an odd sense of detachment after a long bout with searching the internet over and over for snippets of news, recycled opinions and theorists that think-in-line. I walk away from the computers and to the nearest window and I let my mind wander away from diligence - long enough to remember something beautiful - a touch, a hug, a joke.

It's spring? Today it was warm (Michigan warmth: 65 degrees) and I rode home with the windows down and reveled in the fact that my hair was a mess and I didn't give a shit. Which reminds me - I've been allowing myself to feel a lot of things, lately: confusion, love, loss, uncertainty - fuck. Sometimes all of them in one day and yes, I'm a little overwhelming on those days. Smiles one moment - your face - grumbles - smiles - oh no I'm really a grownup now - snarles - SHIT JUST HUG ME PLEASE BEFORE I EXPLODE.

Yes. I keep it together considering I seemed to have been carrying a sign around for months which read: "YOUR PERSONAL EMOTIONAL WASTE DUMP" I guess maybe I'm just a comforting individual? I mean, how can so much chaos breed clarity? They see it differently, I suppose. And man, let me tell you - some days are downright difficult. Not in the "oh, depression" sense but in the "I get lost in smells and within inches from you do they notice that I'm staring at the parts of your neck I used to like kissing?" Can I even say that? Yes, I can say whatever I want because I have a free pass to be "over it." And I can be on any given day but I'm allowed to take a trip down Memory Ln. every now and again - I've got a timeshare on that block, ya know.

Bicycle weather. My livelihood. I have made investment plans for the summer - new bike, cycling gear/shoes - longer distances (mentally and physically) - independence. I remember when I used to hang out with TONS of people ALL the time. I was never alone, and for that reason I never listened to myself (mentally or physically.) Now I invest in ME - and it's not that I like to be "alone" but I like to focus on my existence - can you make sense of that? I'm that person who prefers three or four CLOSE, AMAZING, DEEP friendships rather than having 98344 faces on a networking site and being able to identify %4 of them in public, maybe twice a year. Not knocking it - used to be that girl - just don't dig it anymore. I'm good with where I am (Well, I would like to be in a small apartment with nothing but a rice cooker, a tea kettle and a really nice commuter bike.) Holy shit, am I a hippy? Nah. Just... want to live simple, want to be simple. Want to live small, want to be small(ish?) Want to be calm, but still righteously indignant enough to write write write.

I like re-invention. I am inspired by change - evolution. I talk about it a lot and it probably annoys those close to me. The whole "Here I come, there I went." Let me show you what I can become - stick around - please hold - wait for the tone.

I'm a good student. I've resigned myself to the fact that this is who I am - I will have little time outside of teaching and writing and just 'becoming.' A professor - a contributor - a traveler - a lover. To find a lover who'll identify or coexist perfectly - love and respect each other's doings, creations, shortcomings. To come home to laughter and smiles always - he must be funny and not just any funny, but an absolute riot - and he has to know the right things to say and do to make me smile - and when I'm all "OH MY FUCKING GOD" he can say "I love you, imperfectly" and we can fall asleep to Elton John and talk about tomorrow or even today even though the past is tired. <-- The past, exhausting. But he'll say "Babe, your books are on the coffee table" when I'm in a rush and I'll smile in a rush but I'll take two minutes to scribble a note and leave it under his wiper blade. "I love how you always know what I need" We'll do the cute things, and that's how it'll stay fresh, true and simple.

Marriage, and kids - yes, awesome. When settled with a career and they'll grow up surrounded by books and culture and smiles and health - and they'll know the world. Yes. Awesome.

But it has to be absolutely perfect. To hold the same hand forever. See how academic writing wears me out?

I'll delete this later

2009-03-11T21:12:00.000-07:00

But for now, this is a reminder for me to write about what I just watched on Leno.

Jay Leno talking about how he doesn't understand Twitter and essentially how he doesn't understand why someone would type "LOL" when they could simply laugh out loud.

There are many things wrong with this attitude - and when I'm not so busy and preoccupied, I will list and expound upon them.

And you can fill in the blank

2009-03-09T20:15:00.000-07:00

I should seriously change the name of this blog to "Welcome to my identity crisis" or something far more witty that I can't think of at the moment.

I've come to the conclusion that I need a change of scenery. Perhaps I just needed the change of seasons - even I will admit that this winter seemed to drag on far, far too long. Now the daylight will stick around longer and perhaps it'll spare some light to shed on the course of my life. That was about as poetic as I'm willing to get.

Point is: I'm not inspired. My home life is comfortable and functional but it bores me. I've fallen into so much routine that I can't structure my thoughts. I've been riddled with change in the last year of my life, but I find myself wanting more. I think "Ok, I've done this so why not try this, now?" I can't get enough - and now I'm restless. I can move the room around, throw clothes away, rearrange my shelves, start a new workout - but I know nothing will suffice until I find myself between different walls.

I want a roommate or two in a small apartment downtown. I want to bike around campus - live a life of strict minimalism - consume smart and small - invest in books and technology and spend my time snagging the campus wifi on the lawn, researching and chewing gum, listening to jazz through my earbuds, squinting in the sun, watching people pass by - never far from intellectual life and academic circles. I want immersion in what I love.

I don't know why I never felt this disconnect as an undergrad - I can hypothesize that it was because being an undergraduate student was itself a very distanced feeling insofar as being "finished" was something that either felt impossible or was just altogether too frightening to ponder. Graduating meant that you actually had to make decisions about your life that went beyond spring-break destinations and whether or not you wanted to take that extra class that would push you to 15 credits next semester - and most of the time, you just thought for whatever reason you'd never make it anyway.

But now it's almost as if you were absent for the whole process, and you woke up with the next five years of your life staring you in the face - you can't remember how you got there, and you're afraid to move just in case it pounces you and pins you down - and you don't wanna go out in your pjs.

I should probably just quit thinking so much. I should probably just live. I should remain fluid, in the moment, avoiding those foolish consistencies that my imaginary mentor so poignantly reminds me. But, I should still listen to my body and my subconscious - I should pay attention to the methods, the melodies and the environments that pull energy from every pore.

Pay attention to the affectual relationships you have. Heed them.

Keep changing. Evolve.

In which I digress about my best friend

2009-03-03T16:02:00.000-08:00

I used to really enjoy buying things. I can't quite remember why - but I'm pretty sure in retrospect, it had something to do with compensation. For many years, I lacked any sense of fulfillment in life. I had a direction - that was easy enough. Get up, go to work, go to school, do well at both - check, check, check. On the outside and from a distance, I looked like a happy, successful young woman on her way to a career and a pleasurable little spot in the capitalist dream. On the inside...

*crickets*

Yeah, therein lies the problem. Inside? That door was stuck shut for years and I'm pretty sure I just lacked any desire to wrestle with it. I was too busy - too preoccupied with my laundry list of things to hate, rally against, disarm, etc. I was overly-concerned with this image that people had helped me build over the years - that I was this angry person with an agenda to tear everything and everyone apart. For that reason, not many people dared come too close. It was lonely. I got used to it.

And then fate happened. Chance happened. Maybe none of that really happened - maybe I had just finally had enough. I needed change - I craved it. I began to feel empty, listless, lifeless and bored. I wasn't bored in the sense that I had nothing to do, but in the sense that I was tired of myself. The image was old and warn out.

I made several changes. I changed jobs, I changed habits, and I started to chip away ever-so-slightly at the bitter facade that was my face, my voice and complete embodiment for years. For... my entire life.

I somehow found myself in the company of people who liked to smile, and did so often. People who didn't care for drama and cared even less for those who thrive on it. I found an avenue for my honesty and a team of friends willing to support the way I operate, quirks and all. I was completely immersed in unbridled love and affection without hesitation. It was so odd at first - someone who wasn't afraid to hold my hand when I was afraid or simply to assure me that I wasn't alone even in a good moment. Almost out of nowhere, a person came into my life who, without words, said "It's alright to feel loved on all levels - and it's alright to show it."

This person's actions spoke with such force that my ears ring to this day, "I can tell you I love you, because I do - and there's no pressure in that - and there's no expectation in that - and you may take it this way or that way, but you can't change love - you can't change the fact that I want you here, that you're special to me and that no matter what you want to believe - you need me, too. We're friends - and we traversed the blurred lines and made sense of it all because when all is said and done - we're visionaries because we have each other - because we gave each other hope when we didn't even know that's what we needed. And we never lied, and we always felt and gave and continue to give. There we were, and here we are - and through it all, you make me better."

And this unspoken discourse made the soundtrack to the world change from an angry guitar riff to a pleasant piano tune. Because I have so much more in my heart, I find myself wanting for less. So many people (including myself in the past) have said that love is a complex emotion. I don't know if I agree with that much anymore. To me, love is simple - and there is beauty in simplicity. Yes, love can lead us to face tough decisions and cause us to make choices that might not be the best course of action to a logical individual - but we cause those problems when we mix logic with love instead of following love TO logic. You shouldn't have to break love down, dissect it, turn it into a science - because when it is true, it transcends every part of your life, every fiber of your being. Even when you're not sure what to do with love, when it's real you will always find beauty somewhere and it will regenerate. Love gives you a lens.

There are so many aspects of growing that scare the shit out of me. For so long I wanted to be on the true path to my career - and now that I'm ready to embark, I feel like turning around and making a break in the opposite direction. Sometimes I feel like going out on my own, and in the very next moment I am completely comfortable staying put. I am confused about where I'm going and not entirely convinced that I can even make it there - but when I'm around you, it doesn't take long for doubt to subside. And it's nothing that you've done directly or on purpose - it's just your love of life, your faith in goodness and your appreciation of beauty. Our laughter - our moments - our story - our point A's and point B's and everything in-between. Your life and my life and the point at which they fit. What we've learned, how we've grown, and all the ways we managed to take difference and enrich each others lives with it.

I've never had a more positive force in my life. I've never had a better friend - I can say that with the utmost certainty. If you have a best friend, tell them you love them. I urge all of you - if there is someone in your life who has made an impact, let them know. Trust me that one day that love will save your life.

While listening to my Ben Folds Pandora station this evening, I came upon this song:

This is the best version I could find - but if you pay for this song I promise you won't be disappointed. It is my new favorite song and I can't stop listening to it. Look up the lyrics. It's simple. It's beautiful. It's everything I thought I'd never be, but everything I'm so very happy that I've become.

I don't know me at all?

2009-03-01T07:33:00.001-08:00

I still have no idea who this new person is. I still raise an eyebrow in the mirror. I still pause momentarily after she smiles at strangers or takes extra time to listen. I still marvel at her patience and willingness to endure short-term pain for long-term happiness.

Who wouldn't have a bit of an identity crisis when so many things change at once?

I do not dare call it "hope," but there is a sense that if I just keep fighting the good fight, everything will come together - and it will feel right.

I'll elaborate later

2009-02-23T20:11:00.000-08:00

What do you do when you feel like people can't keep up with you? How do you curb your expectations?

In happier news, it's nice to log in and see this:

Current Program
Doctor of Philosophy
Level:	Graduate
Program:	PhD in Liberal Arts & Sciences
Catalog Term:	Fall 2009
College:	Liberal Arts & Sciences
Campus:	Main Campus
Major and Department:	English, English

Prison Break (Not-the-awful-tv show version)

2009-02-20T16:40:00.000-08:00

Clarity. Transparency. Absolution.

In my life, all of those words (independent or combined) carry a hell of a lot more weight than simply getting what you want. The unfortunate part about this life is that there are times when your personal growth and all the absolutions that are required in order to progress are often contingent upon another individual. Sometimes even when we find ourselves so immersed and enthralled with another human, we never stop to question if we trust them enough to give us what we need at any given moment. Are they strong enough to tell us what we need to know - not what we want to hear? I'm sure you know a lot of people you can trust to answer a distressed call, but how many will never show up on the side of the road with a can of fix-a-flat when you really need a whole new tire?

And because I can't be completely deep and serious all the time - enjoy some Chi City:

Growing pains

2009-02-08T17:40:00.000-08:00

I created this blog with the intention of devoting its entries to my academic research and political interests. Despite what the majority of this blog would indicate, I am actually very socially aware and even more willing to write about various socio-political issues. For whatever reason, though, every time I sit down to blog I can't seem to wrangle my thoughts - I've even tried notes and outlines but to no avail.

I'm almost certain that the reason for all of this has to do with the intense personal growth I have experienced in the last year of my life. I realized in the last couple weeks that I have done everything but truly acknowledge just how much my world has shifted beneath me - and the only way I am going to fully embrace change is to pull everything into the foreground.

Sometimes I lament the person that I used to be. Part of me wants to believe that we never shed skin completely and that we always have the potential to revisit any portion of a past persona. Whether or not we're able to make the conscious decision to recycle ourselves is something that I still ponder. And yet, there are times when I think that the reasons I want to go back are rooted in escapism. There is a fear that looms - that with every footstep ahead the ground becomes softer, the atmosphere is dense with fog and it'll be many hours before the sun rises again. I feel as if someone swept me off of my feet on a lovely date - a beautiful day of bliss - and then drove me to the middle of nowhere, pushed me out of the car and left me to find my way home. Suffice to say, it's a lonely feeling.

But the sort of, "meta-feeling" involved in all of this is that with the new (arguably improved) me, comes an annoying re-vamped realism - one that borrows from all half-full containers. Almost every aspect of my self-destructive nature has dissipated. I have learned to dust myself off like a champion, and stand up to fears that would've crippled me as little as a year ago. That may sound like sunshine and rainbows, but I assure you there's a catch. There's always a catch.

I still want to be weak. I still long for the escapism I used to be so good at - it was something I had perfected. It was the best defense mechanism and a damn fine survival tactic. If it hurts - run - far, far away until you make new memories that put old ones to shame. Re-define, restructure, recover. I've been running for as long as I can remember and because of it, I have never had time to actually grow. My person has never evolved because I kept forcing myself back to square one. Outward chaos was peaceful inside - and now for the sake of learning to accept and endure all of the hurdles, I suffer an internal hurricane while heading into the biggest endeavor of my life.

I hear the words "Be patient" echoing in my brain whenever I think about taking a step back. Patience is one of the hardest behaviors to harness for me - I'm a person who has always lived for the moment and inherently yearns for instant gratification. I'm not selfish, but I am assertive and I've had a rather consistent history of getting what I want, when I want it. Humility is very new to me - and I really don't like admitting that. What I do like is how human I feel whenever I realize that I'm genuinely humbled. I tell myself that with every day, there is an opportunity for improvement. If we want to be better, we have the capacity to do so.

I've come a long way in the last year, and I'm tired. I'm exhausted, but I think I've finally had the first glimpse of what I want out of life and I have no problem taking small, careful steps to realize it.

Round, round, get around

2009-01-23T10:14:00.000-08:00

I've been thinking a lot lately about my car. It's a reliable vehicle thus far - it's almost over the hill (100,000 miles) and it's endured some of the roughest weather and terrain this state has to offer. Though I treat my car very well (tune-up's, obsessively-regular oil changes, transmission flushes, tire rotations, etc) I still have every reason to be thankful that the little American-made four-banger turns over in sub-zero temperatures. It never fails to get from point A to B and for that I give it a little tap on the trunk and occasionally clean all the empty water bottles and gum wrappers from its floorboards.

The problem is - I'm not sure I want to drive a car anymore. Some of you might be thinking "So don't, what's the big deal?" Unfortunately there is a big deal and it's larger than my singular progressive forward-thinking self can sometimes fathom. The issue is a social stigma that may very well be quite sweeping, but in my experience is very concentrated in the midwest - particularly Michigan and even more so, this "Motor City" I love so much.

Growing up in Southwest Detroit had very few advantages. Living blocks away from a huge steel mill in one of the most crime-infested areas in the entire nation was not an ideal situation - but it was the best that my mother and stepfather could provide. The environment always gave me one strong feeling - the need to escape, to explore, to expand - and the easiest way to achieve this was to get a license and car as quick as humanly possible.

On top of the escapism built the pressures of adolescence and being "cool." Everyone in high school wanted to have a car. Never once was there talk of walking (that's what people without CARS do, DUH) or riding a bike (That's what kids do, DUH) or taking the bus (That's what poor people and bums do, DUH!) Alternative transportation didn't exist in my world and I have a feeling my experience wasn't too far from that of many others.

This nasty stigma around pooling, biking, and mass transit is a large reason why it's so difficult to actually participate in any of those activities in the state of Michigan. 3 months of brutal cold and heavy snow make it nearly impossible to bike - but it doesn't rule out hoping on a bus. Even in the warmer months, the lack of bike lanes also makes the two-wheeled commute challenging and dangerous at times. To add insult, every time I chain my bike outside of an establishment, people stare at me with a facial expression that reads "Wow, she must have more than a couple DUIs."

I'm not sure what I'll do when my current vehicle finally kicks the proverbial bucket. Perhaps I'll be in another state by then or maybe I'll live closer to all point B's of great necessity. Either way - I'm over 4 wheels.

I need a fuckin' revolution.

Under Pressure

2009-01-21T20:02:00.000-08:00

Tonight I was invited to sit in on an 8000 level graduate course. In order to sit, I had to agree (after a quick review of the syllabus) to commit to all of the required work.

The work includes one 8-10 page proposal, consistent participation on a class blog as well as a 20 page final paper.

I'm incredibly flattered that a former professor of mine would want me to join such a high-level course, to sit next to people who have put far more thought into their dissertations. I will be a bud amidst partially-bloomed flowers.

Thing is, all of this will be going on while a committee meets to decide whether or not I should be funded in my freshmen year of graduate school.

I'm nervous, but determined. I know I can own this. I plan on walking into that classroom Monday night and getting right down to business.

When life lifts you up, but he lets you down

2009-01-20T17:37:00.000-08:00

So, your dream came true. You're well on your way to becoming a college professor and an author. You're involved in projects that promote literacy, stress the benefits of integrating comics into secondary education classrooms, and advocate clean transportation around your home state.

You've come from a poor, underprivileged school district to earn a Bachelor's degree from a major research University. You've gone from being an awkward, unpopular teenager to having the confidence to stick your foot in any door - to shake any hand - to make your presence known in any way. You're not afraid to smile, even though it shows that your mother never had the money to fix a few crooked teeth. You're not afraid to work harder at staying healthy because you sacrificed insurance coverage for full-time education.

You've watched drugs ruin the lives of immediate family members, and you've endured the depression of losing a loved one. You live with two chronic illnesses and yet you rarely let it get you down - even on bad days, you never call off and never skip out. You could've settled many times, but you listen to your heart and let your passion guide you. You believe in hard work, service, education, and innovation. You've always been honest and loyal. You're determined to prove that tattoos and distended earlobes simply decorate an individual - they do not define them.

You've done a lot - but you're going to do so much more. Very little gets you down, because you were raised to hold your head high no matter the task, no matter the challenge. You were raised to understand that you are nothing if not part of something greater. You tell yourself that if it hurts, think of how it could be worse - slam your fingers in the door when someone steps on your toes.

And here you are almost every evening thinking about how it could be worse. Amidst all of your accomplishments, you can only focus on one failure. And yet, you remain selfless through it all - concerned more about his feelings than yours. Letting your unanswered questions fester for the sake of respecting a complexity that you don't quite understand. You've been swept into an undertow but you'd rather drown than ask for help.

What's wrong with you? That's the question, indeed. The question you ask yourself when you look in the mirror. The question they ask when you keep giving excuses for sticking around - for enduring the embarrassment and pain in hopes that some day it'll fade. But it won't dissipate. Every single time he gives you that sympathetic smile, you only feel the suffix. If everyone knew, you'd be a joke. It's a good thing for the most part, this is buried in your own ribcage.

Just shy of good enough - the ultimate insult.

The long and the short of it

2009-01-11T13:41:00.000-08:00

I've never really been big on "resolutions," but I do love making lists. My desk at home is littered with post-it notes (a mini-obsession of mine.) Most of them have my monthly bill payments and writing ideas scribbled down - but a lot of them have lists of short-term and long-term goals. I create lists mostly because I seem to have inherited a shitty memory. I haven't done a drug in my life and yet I have to work extra hard to memorize things. It's wild - but, the harder the work the more rewarding the payoff, right? Right.

I have a couple lists that are important to me. I want to post them partly because I enjoy sharing several aspects of my life and also because this list is less likely to be lost in the chaotic battleground that is my desk.

To achieve by June 2009:

- Lose another 15 lbs (Which will take me to 150 lbs - a total of 55 lbs lost in 15 months)
- Eliminate three of the six credit card debts I currently pay down each month.
- Keep my savings account above $2,000
- Completely wean myself off of weekly comics. Limit myself to one new graphic novel a month
- Get the last two sessions in on my left and right sleeves.
- Become accustomed to drinking green tea
- Achieve the minimalism I'm content with. It's alright to wear the same two pairs of jeans, the same old hoodie and the same three lame tank tops all the time - having a ton of clothes is overrated.
- Never buy another t-shirt - I never wear them.

A more short-term list:

- Start strength training with my cardio, again.
- Buy a rice cooker
- Early to bed, early to rise. No more mid-morning naps
- Now that the PhD application strain is over - start reading nightly again
- Finish two chapters of my book before the end of February
- Get the Mac repaired. I miss it.
- Take advantage of the free cookbooks Rodale sent and start making dinner for Grandma for a change
- Get a hair trim

Real-life Revolutionaries

2009-01-09T14:17:00.000-08:00

As it turns out, becoming a graduate student is a business that requires a lot of footwork. Call this office, pick this up, drop it off here - send this in, pay this fee, sign this, email that - so on, and so forth. All of the while your goals, dreams, and the next five or so years of your life hang in the balance.

Not too stressful, right? Hah.

Today I had the task of getting my undergraduate records transferred to the director of Graduate studies in the English department. Sounds simple enough - call Graduate Admissions, tell them what you want - done.

Wrong.

Approx 1:30 PM - Call Graduate admissions and get placed on hold
1:36 PM - After 5 minutes of dead air, hang up and call again
1:37 PM - Get a different person at Graduate admissions who completely misunderstands my request and transfers me to the English department
1:39 PM - After explaining to the receptionist in the English department that she's talking to me due to the folly of the Grad admissions office, she transfers me to the records office
1:40 PM - Records office requires three different explanations of my very simple transcript request
1:43 PM - Records office informs me that there is ONE individual employed by the ENTIRE university who handles transcript requests - she rattles off his number, tells me to call him.
1:44 PM - Me: "Couldn't you just transfer the call?"
1:45 PM - Call transferred to "Mark" at Records
1:45 PM - Mark at Records answers the phone and immediately takes acception to my qualms with the Records office and the University's phone etiquette as a whole. He and I exchange laughs about how much we hate ignorant people.
1:48 PM - Mark informs me that instead of having me jump through flaming hoops, he would like to personally deliver my transcript to the English department. "Mark, you are a true revolutionary sir!" "Thank you so much! I haven't been called that in years!"

When I arrived on the 4th floor, I called Mark and moments later he walked through the door carrying my transcripts. The moment he stepped into the hallway, I thought "Yeah, this dude was definitely an activist early in his life." He looked like a 5'4 version of Icabod Crane! Short, hyper but pointed with his energy - his long white hair sloppily wrangled into a pony tail. We eagerly shook hands, grinning like kindred spirits.

Mark and I flamboyantly delivered my transcripts to the department's main office. A professor standing nearby watched the entire display, simply uttering "Impressive." I wanted to turn around and say "That's exactly who I am, and that's exactly what I do!"

It's remarkable to me sometimes - that we can go our whole lives never reading every book, never seeing every thing of beauty, and never meeting every person who could brighten even a portion of our day - but we can still be happy with what we have. Today, one person made me happy with my ability to connect and let my personality be my guide through tough situations.

Thank you, Mark from Records. One day, you'll have a pack of Marlboros in your mailbox courtesy of yours truly.

For now, I'm reading comics, working out, and hitting the hay. Hopefully tonight I'll actually get some sleep.

Oh, but here's some photos:

Twitter<3

Finally able to grab a pull for the first time in a few weeks

Now that it's all over - I think I'm going to treat myself to an eyebrow wax and a hair trim. I deserve it.

Excema and other oddities

2008-12-28T19:21:00.000-08:00

A couple weeks ago, I started to develop this gnarly rash-type redness on my collarbone. It was one little spot that itched like MAD - and naturally, I obliged every single itch - practically numbing the spot from the constant scratching. The skin wasn't dry or patchy and to the best of my knowledge I hadn't come into contact with anything odd or new in the past days/weeks. I figured, "Eh, oh well," and I just let it go in hopes that it would eventually fade on its own. Not so.

A few days later, it spread all over my neck and to the other side of my collarbone. Gross. Honestly, it was one of the most unsightly things and it drove me to a new level of self-consciousness. Eventually, I came to the conclusion that either A) I was developing excema or B) I was allergic to the necklace I'd worn every single day for the past two years. My luck, it would've been the former. Too stubborn to remove the necklace right away, (Two years! C'mon, it's difficult to break that kind of timeline) I eventually realized that it wasn't getting any better and seemed to itch more at the jewelry's contact points.

Ditched the necklace about a week ago. Two days ago, James said that it looked as if the redness was clearing up. At the time, I didn't see it - but today it's nearly gone from my neck and the point of origin on my collarbone seems to be fading, as well. I think it's safe to say I dodged the excema bullet - which I couldn't be happier about - it's not as if I need yet another medical hurdle to deal with.

Amy: 1
Weird skin redness: 0

In other news, it's 17 days until my PhD application is due. The only thing I have left to complete is the damn letter of intent. I have been struggling for WEEKS to simply tell the English department at WSU why I feel I should be admitted to the program. This is especially retarded for me given the fact that I've only been telling people for the past TWO YEARS why I want to be a graduate student. So - why am I finding it difficult to put this into a 3 page letter? I have a few hypotheses - none of which are helping this letter write itself. The bottom line: My next day off absolutely, without procrastinatory argument, NEEDS to be dedicated to finishing that letter.

I'm serious. *cough*

So - our basement floods pretty bad when we have torrential downpours or ... 7 inches of snow melt in one day. (Yay, Michigan) Well, Grandma is having that all fixed this week - which means we have to tear up our basement in preparation. This means my treadmill is out of commission until it's all over. Sad face.

My actual point in bringing it up is the fact that my uncle has been laboring over tearing the carpet up in the basement nearly the entire evening. He's also cleaning out the space underneath our basement stairs (and finding a lot of awesome old treasures in the process, might I add.) Well, I have one of the most curious cats in existence - if you're doing something, she's gotta have her head in it.

Anyway - I was called to remove Kenobi from underneath the stairs, lest she get locked in there. Well, as I was going to pick her up - she flipped out and attacked me. My cat has never shown her temper to me or any living creature for that matter. Kenobi is incredibly docile, and the terror in her eyes scared the piss out of me. I wasn't mad that she clawed the fuck out of my leg, but rather I was upset that she was frightened. I spent a moment contemplating what could've freaked her out so badly - but then my mind began to wander into the territory of the supernatural and I immediately aborted that mental mission. The jury will always be out when it comes to ghosts and all that jazz - my agnosticism/skepticism simply won't allow my brain to succumb. It was just all-around weird. I held Kenobi tight, pet her, talked to her, and gave her kitty-kisses until she calmed down and relaxed in my lap on her own free will. The terror has subsided, as she is now lying next to me in bed, chewing on the edge of a comic book.

The three gouges in my thigh are still burning. I pointed to them and said "Look what you did!" She replied with a somewhat mournful "Mew" and rubbed her face against my knee.

"Simply the thing that I am shall make me live"

2008-12-24T21:46:00.000-08:00

Merry Christmas, all.

In the season of giving - what is the greatest gift you've received? Was it draped in ribbon and finished with a bow? Or was it something in the air - someone's presence, perhaps? Was it a smile - or a hug - or the tingling you felt when weaving your fingers with another?

Personally - I've been given more gifts in the past few months than I feel I deserve. At times, I wonder how I was lucky enough to find myself on a path with so much potential for growth. Amidst many accomplishments, the greatest one remains finding something worth patience and an open mind - two things I lacked my entire life. I'll admit that at 25 years old, I feel like I'm breaking out of a very thick shell. It is this feeling that has left me stumped in many ways. Where I would be churning out extensive blogs - I stare at blank screens. Though I've maintained a steady research/writing schedule - it's not been the quality that I'm used to producing. I thought I was suffering a massive writer's block for the past few months, but I've come to understand that I'm emotionally overwhelmed - and for the first time in my life... I'm alright with that. It's simple - and that's ok, too.

I'm simple? Never. Friends and family, I'm certain, would disagree. Everyone around me - literally my entire life - has viewed me as this complex creature full of odd quirks and arguably inane pet-peeves. But recently, someone found something steady within me - something calm, and lacking maintenance. Yet again, the boat rocks. The brain labors to wrap itself around this conceptual oddity.

It really leaves me without words. Anything else - I can fill pages. This? I...

*sigh*

Whatever brought you happiness this holiday - I hope you continue to reap its rewards long into the future.

HxC

2008-12-16T06:05:00.000-08:00

An old friend of mine sent me this photo early this morning:

It's almost six years old, if my memory serves me correctly. I miss those shoes. I don't miss smoking milds, though.

Looking at this picture makes me think about personal growth - how we make it from several point A's to innumerable point B's. Who is at fault for our transformation - and is it always positive, even if it feels like an internal betrayal?

Are you truly responsible forever for what you tame?

Ever get the feeling?

2008-12-14T19:29:00.000-08:00

How much longer?

How much longer?

How much longer?

Everything at arms length.

Bionic woman syndrome

2008-12-10T13:28:00.000-08:00

People ask me all the time, "How do you manage to never get sick this time of year?" It seems that every year here in the midwest, when the roads start to get slippery and the green grass is coated in white - all the splendor of the season is masked and mired by sneezes, sniffles and hacks. I always have a difficult time sympathizing with illness because it never happens to me - and the truth is, I really don't have some sort of special secret to immunity. I have an immune system equivalent to group of navy seals - and if I had to pick a couple reasons why that might be, I guess I could give it a shot.

*Food - EAT IT!
I am incredibly picky about what I ingest. I've had a few years' worth of nutritional science classes and I keep regular tabs on health-related news from credible sources. I try to enjoy as much organic food as my budget will allow - but most of all, I just steer clear of eating foods that are obviously processed (like anything from a fast food establishment or most restaurants.) Yes, I do eat out on occasion, but I am careful about that too.

I make sure to eat a lot of fiber, and a lot of vegetables. I've found that after about a month of having a TRULY balanced diet, one loses the need for artificial uppers like gas station caffeine pills and Redbull. I say that specifically because even though I've always had an arsenal of good information about health, only in the last year or so have I actually been taking my own advice. While in undergrad, I lead a pretty unhealthy lifestyle. Though I never ate fast food, and didn't consume sugar - I still had three specific habits that lead to obesity:

1) Very little sleep
2) Skipping breakfast and eating late
3) Artificial everything

Granted, I really didn't get an opportunity to sleep much. When it came to my academic lifestyle, I took every hour I could squeeze from the day in order to create great work. All hours of the night would be spent consuming redbull, chainsmoking and writing/researching. It paid off, but my body suffered in the process. I stayed up too late, and woke up too early - never had time to eat breakfast and found myself gorging on food late at night just to stay fueled.

Over the last year I've come to realize that none of that is an excuse for poor living. Next fall I'll be a graduate student, and I will have even more on my plate in the academic world than ever before. The main goal is obviously to kick academic ass - but the equal and somewhat more challenging goal is to stay fit and healthy while doing it.

So, ultimately my advice is - no matter what, eat food and eat it frequently. Eating less does not equal losing weight - and trust me, if you're reading the right advice, you can find that published everywhere. Eat foods that fill you up - my favorite are green beans. Grab a can, and it's an easy 80 calories with 0 fat or cholestorol and a TON of energy believe it or not! I'm also a huge fan of oatmeal as a mid-day snack.

*Exercise - MOVE IT!
Buy a bike. Right now. Ride that bike. As often as possible.

I simply can't put enough emphasis on how biking improved my mental and physical health. There is something about the experience of being out on your bike, exploring an entirely different commute (even in areas that you thought you were familiar with.) Not to mention, a half an hour on a bike burns an average of 500 calories (More than double what a half an hour running on a treadmill can do!)

Do yoga. Seriously. I used to think it was lame and yuppie-ish, too. Get over it.

Yoga works. It pulls at areas you thought you weren't born with - and it relieves all those anxieties that riddled you throughout the day. Forget 100 crunches - six yoga moves and you can feel your abs and I bet you'll start working your ass off to see them, too.

Run nowhere.

I love my treadmill. I use it at least 5 days a week. It's the best way to start the day, and also gives me the opportunity to catch up on my political podcasts.

And if you can't manage any of that? I don't know what to tell you. Movement is a huge part of my life - I love any excuse to stay active. Sometimes my passion for reading and writing get in the way of how I would rather be at the sportsplex playing drop-in hockey or volleyball. I can tell you though, that if you move more you'll have less time to acknowledge illness and you'll be less willing to let it run its course.

*Happiness: SMILE!

You're alive - that's already enough to be thankful for. But, I suggest you figure out all the things and people that make you happy - and surround yourself with them as often as possible.

Find people who make you smile, effortlessly - it's the greatest gift you could ever receive.

Open your heart and your mind to what makes you a better human, to what improves the quality of your life.

Observe how you feel around certain people - and act on that. Always tell the poeple you love that you appreciate them, and do things for them to show those emotions. Send them gifts, write them letters, make them things, hug them, talk to them - any and all of it.

Indulge in activities that make you feel complete and successful. At all times have a goal, and work towards it a little every day.

Don't let debt stress you out. Everyone's in debt. If it's not a house, it's student loans. If it's not a car, it's credit cards. Regardless of whether or not you owe on something you regret years later - everybody owes. Try to take your everyday woes and universalize them - understand that you're not alone, and find comfort in that. You will be alright - even when you feel like it's all against you.

Happiness is contagious. Trust me, I've learned this lesson a little late - but it's one that I am very, very thankful for.

It is my belief that Food, Movement, and Happiness are the reason I remain healthy. Yes, we all have our days of desolate feelings and we all get grumpy now and again - but ultimately once we embrace our imperfections and allow people to love us for who we are, health radiates from the inside, out.

Culture-shock therapy

2008-12-06T09:25:00.000-08:00

It's a true gift to have someone in your life who, through their own open mind, encourages you to open yours. It's beautiful to trust someone so much that you not only feel safe with them at all times, but you have this sense of faith that they would never steer you wrong.

Never in my life have I ever felt so comfortable letting my guard down and my biases slip.

Expanded horizons.

"Just trust me. I've never given you any reason not to."

That's love.

Creep-magnet

2008-12-02T18:09:00.000-08:00

That's me. Like moths to a flame, I swear - every time I turn around there's some nasty creepshow drooling over me. I have the absolute worst luck when it comes to men.

The ones I fall for either:

A) Have a shit ton of issues (i.e. head cases)
B) Carry enough luggage to fill the belly of a 747
C) Want something, but don't want it all

The ones that want me are either:

A) Too young, too immature or a careful combination of both
B) Dirty white trash losers with a tattoo fetish
C) Just flat out boring.

If it's not some skeezy truck driver at work, it's something like what happened tonight.

I dropped in to Wal-Mart earlier to pick up my prescription. Whenever I have to make a trip to the cesspool that is Wal-Mart, I'm in there for 10 minutes TOPS. With as much haste as humanly possible, I returned to my vehicle. While buckling my seatbelt I noticed a piece of paper under my windshield - couldn't be a ticket, too small to be a flyer...

So I stuck my hand out of the window, popped the wipers on and after snatching up the mysterious paper...

I began to laugh uncontrollably.

The first thing that popped in my head (after noticing his awful grammar) was "Doesn't this guy know we have the internet for stalking and all other creep-tastic endeavors?" I almost wanted to give the guy credit for being so old school in all of his weird/lurkish behavior. It's sort of... purist in a way.

However, his poor grammar wasn't the only factor working against him. The note was scribbled on the back of a McDonald's receipt. Poor grammar + shitty diet + bad execution = DOES HE SERIOUSLY EXPECT SOMEONE TO CALL HIM WHEN HE DOES THIS SHIT?!

Even more weird? The McDonald's at which he purchased that meal? On 9 mile rd in Eastpointe - directly across the street from the home of one of my ex boyfriends.

The whole thing makes me laugh... and cringe... and place palm to forehead, wondering "Why me?"

An exercise in humility

2008-11-28T20:41:00.001-08:00

Tonight at work, I (along with a coworker) managed to execute a pretty decent fuck-up.

Even though the circumstances (busiest day of the year, time constraint, pressure, and a lack of communication) were against us, we overlooked something that lead to a huge inconvenience. I felt stupid and humiliated - because well, when you pride yourself on being a person of intellect it just blows when you screw anything up.

I've always been an advocate of those "human moments" that we all have - however, I still feel as if we all need to be a little more humble about our lot in life.

From this day forward, I will work harder on pardoning others for mishaps that I would've otherwise frowned upon.

Be thankful, you bastard

2008-11-26T19:09:00.000-08:00

Despite all the shit I could be shuffling around muttering under my breath about, I can always manage to be thankful this time of year. The "holidays" are always my favorite time - and I'm a complete traditionalist when it comes to celebrating them. Yes, I am a secular-Christmas fanatic and I am damn proud of it. Give me all the Santa Claus, gift-giving, songs-about-a-baby-Jesus-I-don't-worship goodness you can muster! I'll belt out "O, Holy Night" with such a wide grin on my face you'd think I never missed a Sunday in the front pew.

But, why? Well it's simple, really. For every year of my life that I can recall, my Grandparents made the holidays some of the best moments I've ever had. I remember absolute unbridled joy - the food, the music, the laughter, the presents, the hugs and kisses, the stories, the Christmas movies on television - everything. My childhood holidays were right out of a Hallmark commercial, and all I've ever wanted to do was to give that happiness back to everyone in my life. The positive memories I have of the Christmas season are even a driving force behind wanting to start my own family when for many years I thought I was never the girl to get married and pop out kids.

*Finger to lips* Now, on to the reflection of the past year and the corresponding thank-yous:

1) As every year, my Grandmother sits at the top of the list. Every single accomplishment I can lay claim to is ultimately because she and my late Grandfather have given me the opportunities to go out and achieve them. From putting a roof over my crazy head for the last 10 years, to putting up with my wild adverse ideas, they always believed that I would go far and did everything in their power to assure I had the chance. And here I am, a college grad and heading for a PhD - tattooed, earlobes distended and loved for all of it - there is no greater gift in life.

2) I made it through undergrad! Ugh, there were so many moments when I thought I would crumble - when I wanted to give in. But I finished, and I even did well! I am thankful for all those that supported me within the English department at WSU - they saw something in me that I couldn't see in myself and at times still struggle to do so. But, here I am - 25 and on my way to graduate school. Wow.

3) Love. Not just from my family and friends - but romantic love, as well. Earlier in the year, I had to make a very difficult decision that I wasn't sure I could bounce back from too quickly. I forced myself to give up on and walk away from something that felt entirely right and completely comfortable. Because I have the gift of foresight (which I do not always heed, but is always with me) I was able to do the right thing for myself and my future - which was to look out for number one, even if she ends up alone. I taught myself that one could be fulfilled in the absence of a romantic relationship and I set out to do so. I began a quest to better my mental and physical health. Somewhere in the middle of all my dedicated alone-time, I started to spend some time with a person altogether new to me. It wasn't really his existence that was new to me, but rather who he is that was conceptually novel.

He's hilarious. He's kind. He's patient.

He's giving. He's thoughtful. He's intelligent.

He's well-rounded. He's humble. He's curious.

At first you're thinking: "Impossible." But I insist! I swear he exists.

And you narrow your eyes and exclaim "And this person wanted to spend time around YOU?" Yeah, I know. It shocked me, too.

But regardless of how implausible it all seems, this man came into my life and single-handedly placed a calm over my heart that I've never felt before. And of all the times I felt as if I had done something wrong in my life - being around him always made me feel as if I had finally done something right. He made me feel less selfish, and more open - but above all, there were times when he made me feel beautiful both inside and out - honestly, more than anyone in my life ever has. It's that cheesy poetic nonsense that makes everyone gag - but before you vomit all over your shoes or mine, allow me to coat the lining of your stomach.

He comes with his fair share of baggage - heavy enough to crush even the strongest of possibilities. I gave him all that I had and offered more, but all that I received in return was a luggage tag with someone elses name printed on it. The dust settled and collected, and now it's been swept under a rug very carefully woven. So you might be asking, "How are you thankful for that?"

Easy. Though the depth of my love is ultimately unrequited - and I am stuck with having opened myself to a world of pain - the whole experience has proven that I can still feel. It's like that scene in High Fidelity when Luara asks Rob to have sex with her after her father's funeral. She tells him that she needs to FEEL something, whether it be sex or sticking her hand in a fire. That's how I felt after my last bout with love and loss - and my experience with this man helped me to understand that I am not cold, and I am not hopeless.

I realized it when we'd look at each other and smile.
I realized it when he held my hand and I caught my breath.
I realized it when I would think about all the things I could do to make him smile.
I realized it when he played the songs he knew would make me happy.

And now it's back to emptiness, and now I've lost the hope. But somehow, some way, I'm still thankful for what all of it could've become. I'm thankful that the feelings of bitterness pass as quickly as they set in. I'm happy that I have my friends, my family, and the passion for my future career to occupy my heart and my mind, essentially allowing me to ease out of heartache and resentment.

I'm thankful for living my life with intellectual curiosity and passion - for always pursuing my goals even when it felt futile. I'm thankful that I am on the road to having my dream career and the ability to wake up every day and do what I love.

I'm thankful that at this time of year, I can smile knowing that someday I will make a great wife and a great mother - and one day I will be able to share my love of the holidays with my own family, generating the same peace and happiness that my Grandparents gave to me.

Cheating death

2008-11-17T16:21:00.001-08:00

24 hours ago I was kickin' it bed-rest style.

Today, I'm struttin' around my room in a really cute outfit I put together - part of a tradition I developed for myself whenever I drop another 10 lbs. It might sound ridiculous to you - valley girl-ish? Cheesy? Both A and B? Probably, but I believe in rewarding myself when I feel particularly lovely about my health and my appearance.

Regardless - I'm not going to die anytime soon. False alarm with the heart/chest pain business yesterday. Back to your regular scheduled programming! Errr... or mine? Which consists of writing, researching, prepping for grad school, and dancing around my room to Phil Collins and Huey Lewis. Either way - yesterday's brush with absolute fear has made me appreciate every day even more.

This is the face of a very grateful lady:

Illin'

2008-11-16T14:09:00.000-08:00

As a wee child, I used to get tonsillitis every six months or so. I was a mess. Finally, at age 12 my mother said "enough is enough" and had the docs yank all those bacteria-snagging organs from my throat/nasal passage. Since that surgery, I have never been sick in any way. I don't even get a common cold. No fevers, no sniffles, no coughs or sore throats. Straight up Unbreakable shit.

On top of the fact that I just seem impenetrable is the fact that I take better care of myself than most people my age. I passed my last physical with flying colors - even my resting heart rate was better than the average. I'm picky about what I ingest, and physical activity is one of the biggest parts of my life.

So, I'm sure you could imagine the shock when I woke up this morning to find I couldn't inhale without excruciating pain. At approx. 5:40 this morning I felt as if someone had balanced ten bricks on my chest - and I was more afraid than I have been in a long time. Immediately, I began different breath control exercises that I'm familiar with from yoga - thinking maybe it would help. For a moment I thought maybe I was still dreaming. When I started to shake and get dizzy I headed downstairs to wake up my Grandmother and proclaim that I might be having some sort of heart attack.

But how could that be, I thought. I have excellent blood pressure, excellent cholesterol, my lipids are perfect, I'm a normal weight, and there isn't any history of heart disease in my family. I couldn't be 25 and on the verge of a coronary. As I considered all these factors, the pain in my chest grew heavier and I knew I had to make a decision - drive myself to the Emergency Room and rack up another 3000 dollars of non-insured debt -or- relax, breathe, and assess the situation.

After many tears of frustration and fear, I chose the latter. My Grandmother suggested we call our family doc, spit the symptoms to him and hang on his directions. The specs are as follows:

- No fever

- No congestion

- No cough

- No "shortness" of breath despite the pain of inhaling

- No pains/numbness in arms or other extremities

Doc said I should relax and rest for the day - try not to move much at all and come in tomorrow for tests. He didn't seem to think an expensive visit to the ER was necessary for my non-insured ass. Good news for me. I guess the chances of it being a blood clot in my lungs are low, but not impossible. I go in tomorrow for x-rays to help determine that. Fluid on the lungs is another possibility, but again, why out of nowhere? It doesn't make any sense to me.

Hopefully, it's a passing symptom of a common cold - which, again, is very odd considering I haven't been sick for 13 years. Either way you slice it, this sucks. I hate not going to work, I hate not being able to move around - I hate not working out. I hate sitting around and sleeping all day. This is my own personal hell.

The only upside? Season 7 of Scrubs and an opportunity to dive into Les Mis. Oh, and Grandma is making Chicken, Brown Rice and Broccoli for dinner because she's amazing and she loves me! :D I feel bad though - poor thing has had to babysit me all day per doctors orders - ya know, just in case I actually have a heart attack. Very reassuring.

Lies in the Meadows

2008-11-12T16:11:00.000-08:00

Butch Walker released his new CD yesterday. It's been a little over 24 hours and I've already completely digested the album front to back - I have my favorite song, the song I like the least (but can't come close to hating,) and the song that conjures the most vivid memories and fantasies all within approximately four minutes. It goes without saying that I think the man is a genius, but most importantly - he's all heart. What I love most about Butch - what I connect with most in his music - is the fact he's an "all or nothing" type of person. His approach to emotions is either immersion or disconnect - and sometimes a precarious combination of both.

He reminds me of myself.

Maybe it's a gigantic character flaw of mine - but I have a reputation of refusing to stand and face a situation if I feel it could potentially break me. I won't sit and watch my emotions crumble to the ground - I won't stand back while my focus fades - and if gray begins to shade, I'm out of there.

It's not a complex thing - it's a defense mechanism, a survival tactic. There have been times in my life where I have stuck around, held out hope, believed the hollow words people spit just to smooth things over - and every time I've come out empty-handed. I'm only 25 and I can say with the utmost certainty that I've lost enough years already - I always like to refer to those years as "poor ontological investments" - but even the philosophy of it all isn't completely consoling.

I don't know if it's just bad luck, or if karma really exists - but I consistently find myself in situations that, for lack of better words, simply go nowhere. For a person as horrendously picky as I am, it's remarkable that I overlook obvious hurdles and go sprinting off with the finish-line in mind. Of course you follow the metaphor to finding me curled up on the ground, face busted - silently screaming as the blood and tears create a caramelized cocktail of regret.

Dramatic? Sure. But it's a goddamned powerful recurring theme in my love life. And yeah, every time something like this happens I retain a little bit of luck on one front - the fact that I have a contentment in my person to fall back on. I'm very good at self-sufficiency - I can get along alone and find a genuine happiness in that. I have immense career goals and a lot of passion. I'm free to go where I please, do what I want - I don't have anyone to answer to, and nobody that I'm responsible for. My life is particularly ideal in many ways and at the end of the day, it's comforting to know how many possibilities are out there. But these facts are the fallback - they're not the front-line.

Our emotions get us in trouble - they cause us to bend, to give, to compromise. Sometimes that compromise means subduing aspects of our character that are painful to hold down. When that happens, we are in essence living for another instead of living for ourselves. The only time this is acceptable is when you're getting something equally satisfying in return. You want me to dig a hole, that's fine - but you better be right there shoveling silver dollars and sugar-free peanut butter cups right back into it. And, honestly, one or two lovely rhetorical flourishes do not translate into creamy sans-sucrose peanut buttery goodness. The proof is in your actions - whether or not the effort exists and is genuine.

I'm in a position right now where what I want so desperately to believe is trumping what I fear might be the truth - and that's dangerous. I'm not rooting myself in reality because at some point I figured, well, if we cracked the window surely we can open the door. But, the walls are slowly bleeding black and white together, closing in just enough to cause concern. I'm questioning everything - analyzing everything - weighing pros and cons - measuring prospective losses. There's nothing right now that doesn't scream "Congratulations on drawing the short straw - better luck next time."

Until I feel like I'm not the only one with all my cards down on the table, my size 8 1/2 Nike is on the starting block.

(Yes, I mixed metaphors - intentionally, might I add)

Yes we did

2008-11-05T17:51:00.000-08:00

When I was 16 years old, I started to have these funny feelings. I distinctly remember getting distracted, frequently, from important things like studying and maintaining the few friendships I had managed during highschool. Those "funny" feelings weren't the tingly kind that most teenagers may recall with an awkward fondness - rather, they were emotions fueled by political curiosity and social discontent. While most around me were prepping for the prom, I was beginning (unbeknownst to me at the time) an intellectual journey that would thrust me into subcultural identification and ultimately, what I refer to as a "convenient condemnation."

I bought books by Howard Zinn and Noam Chomsky - I listened to bands like Bad Religion and Anti-Flag - I sewed upside down American flag patches onto my jackets and spoke out often against the atrocities of nationalism. I didn't hate America, but I hated borders and I hated xenophobia. I couldn't understand how people could lift one country above another, ignoring its own terrorism and dictatorship throughout the world. At the tender age of 17, I refused to pledge allgiance to any flag - and I vowed that I would instead devote my entire life to the constant, endless pursuit of knowledge - and to me, nationalism was the absolute antithesis to intellect.

It wasn't easy to maintain an adverse political ideology, even during the excitement of beginning my higher education career at the liberal university of my choice. I had been a college student for a little over one week when the United States suffered the attacks of September 11th, 2001. One day later, I wrote an essay highlighting the hypocrisy of the United States - citing all the foreign attacks and civilian casualties caused by our government - asking people to remember that we are not alone in the act of mourning the deaths of loved ones for idelogical gains. I asked that people let 9/11 be a lesson to them - one that would help us learn the importance of global unity, support and equality. The response to this eassy? Death threats, a flood of negative emails, and several campaigns to ban me from multiple forums of which I had been an active, respectful and engaging participant.

In the years following the backlash, I dropped out of politics. I watched from the background while the Bush administration committed crimes against humanity, fooled the American public into happily giving up their rights and liberties, and waged an absolutely pointless war. I gave up on trying to speak to the people around me, let alone reaching out the larger internet audience. I became cynical and resentful - I began to considering leaving the United States upon completion of my degree. And in November of 2004, I couldn't even bring myself to care about the Democratic opponent to the devil himself.

If you would have told me then that in four short years I would be sitting on my livingroom floor, sobbing tears of joy, feeling pride in being American - I would have suggested you never waste money on the 3-digit. If you would have told me that I would be getting a tattoo that had ANYTHING to do with nationalism, let alone one nation's electoral process - I would've laughed in your face. But here we are - here I AM - thinking about purchasing an American flag and feeling PROUD to live in a particular country - feeling HOPEFUL for the future of my investments and my career - Looking at my little sister who had a matter of days after her 18th birthday to register, watching the outcome of the election that saw her very first vote.

Six years ago I hated the idea of America. Today, I finally feel what I've heard so many talk about from years past - the idea that from many we are truly one. This is our history, our moment to appreciate the time that this country redeemed itself in our eyes and the eyes of the entire world. So stand up and embrace what, as a whole, you and your fellow Americans have done - you not only made history, but you made a future, as well.

The way to a man's heart

2008-10-31T20:56:00.000-07:00

Is an axe through his sternum.

Five minutes alone

2008-10-29T19:22:00.000-07:00

I'm pretty sure Dimebag Darrel had an entirely different vision for that phrase than I do.

I don't have much of anything substantive to blog about tonight. There are a thousand political topics I could speak on - but I would direct you to just turn on MSNBC any evening from now until the election.

What I'm almost equally concerned about currently is the fact that my psyche is bouncing back and forth between enamored and angry nearly every five minutes. Throw in a little frightened and uncertain about my future and you have a recipe for absolute mental chaos.

So, honestly - can you please just give us... well, you know.

Oh, Bravo

2008-10-27T13:51:00.000-07:00

The other day MSNBC was making a sorry attempt at "fairness" by showing McCain giving a speech at some rally - so I flipped the channel momentarily. I turned over to Bravo - because frankly, 3 out of 5 of their reality shows have highly-amusing flamboyantly gay dudes, and I love it.

"Top Design" happened to be on at that particular moment. Now, I don't watch nearly enough television to know much about the contestants (or even objectives) of most of these programs - however - that doesn't stop me from making a quick judgment about its content. As I watched the tail-end of this episode of Top Design - I kept thinking to myself, "How in the hell can you really JUDGE a design?" Interior decorating, in my opinion, is just purely subjective. If all four judges think someones design is utter crap, there's a chance that there are more than a few "rich-folk" who would shell out their disposable incomes for that very crap. So what makes one a professional when it comes to design? It's just art. And we all know how broad the spectrum of art can be.

This leads me to the thought I had this afternoon regarding my own passion and professional direction. I'm a student of rhetoric and theory. There have been a whole lot of theorists that I've read in my time that I've absolutely rallied against - insisting that their highly-acclaimed writing is nothing but a headache between two covers. And yet, esteemed professors that I respect and admire greatly have stressed the importance of their theoretical contributions.

All I can do is hope that those reading my latest theoretical project consider it to be substantially better than "crap." That, my dear readers, is how applying for graduate school is like being on a fucking reality show.

Lyrical posture

2008-10-26T17:24:00.000-07:00

I'm not gonna lie, when other people post lyrics in their blogs I usually react with a crinkle of my nose and a silent "Ugh, c'mon." However, I am prone to posting lyrics, myself - because they help me to stand behind a theory or an emotion of which I'm not quite prepared to devote my own words. It's a tiny hypocritical aspect of my character, I guess.

I heard a song tonight that resonates with a very strong emotional connection I'm experiencing. I love when that happens. I can't stop listening to the song, my imagination running wild, driving my brain out into an expanse of dark, quiet land and leaving it there to create...

Then my text message alert goes off and I snap back into reality. I sigh, and swear I'm going to stop following so many mobile updates on Twitter. Yeah, that'll happen.

And, seriously, how many babies were made to the sound of the album "Crash" by DMB? Phew. I'm gonna go with at least 4000+.

My writing muscle has been a tad atrophied of late. I think my brain is suffering the atmosphere change. I need to get back into an academic atmosphere before I lose myself. I can only blog about everyday things before I grow bored and long to sit in a room full of individuals who can wax theoretically about society, rhetoric and technology.

Ever just have a random memory hit you for no reason? I remember making out in my car once, and Boston's "More than a Feeling" came on the radio. He and I both stopped for a brief moment, contemplated turning it off, but instead just let it blast. Not the hottest make-out tune, but definitely one that makes goofy memories.

I have festive Halloween decor in my room, now. I also cleaned stuff. It smells pretty.

Overall I'd say it was a productive Sunday.

My inbox

2008-10-23T19:00:00.000-07:00

Today:

This week, our campus has faced challenges to the civility and respect that are a foundation of our society. Several people have chosen to use Gullen Mall to express opinions that others have found disrespectful and offensive.

Many people have questioned why we have allowed the speakers to remain on campus. The answer is simple: we are a public institution and members of the public may speak in our outdoor areas when they are not being used for university programs or by student or university organizations.

As an institution of higher learning, Wayne State University promotes respect for all individuals. We defend each person’s right to free speech, which is a basic tenet of our society and must be protected. We may not always agree with one another but we must preserve the right of others to assert their views.

I urge you to listen courteously or simply avoid listening if that is your preference. The respect for diversity that is shown by members of the Wayne State University community is a very important feature of university life.

Sincerely,

Nancy S. Barrett
Provost and Senior Vice President for Academic Affairs

---

How unfortunate that people need to be reminded that in the United States we are allowed the freedom to express our ideas in public - and even worse, those who need this lesson are taking part in higher learning.

Have you seen me lately?

2008-10-22T20:06:00.000-07:00

It wasn't just because there happened to be an empty spot on the wall next to my desk. It wasn't because I had nowhere else to put the damn thing. My degree hangs on the wall most present in my peripheral for a good reason: It reminds me of dreams I had while growing up - that while they changed drastically over the years, several components remained the same. It reminds me that I could've given up so many times - I could've succumbed to devastating relationship problems, the death of my grandfather, disheartening financial situations and many bouts of self-doubt. I have given credit to a few over the years for keeping my head above the water - but ultimately, I fought hard because exemplifying strength is what I was raised to do and it's what I'm used to.

A co-worker said to me the other day, "I love how you just don't care and you'll call anyone out straight to their face. You're just not afraid."

For years people have leaned on my shoulder - sought me out when they needed to sob, when they needed someone to tell them that the only reason the sun rolls over the horizon tomorrow is because they want it to. I've patted backs, wiped away tears, hugged as strong and solidly as possible - I've made them smile with humorous realities and helped them laugh at their own folly. I've never sugar-coated or tip-toed for anyone. And at the end of each day, I come home to my room, my cat, my books and my itunes library. And I'll make a playlist for the night, climb into my bed followed by my loyal feline friend, curl up with a book - and the shy tears will trickle down. And its not every night that ends up this way - but when they do, the first thing I lament is the inability to be vulnerable in front of anyone else because they refuse to handle me in such a state. Amy's always so strong, so passionate, so focused, so determined - how could anything ever get her down? How, indeed.

I'll be the first to announce that I didn't ask for the stigma. Sometimes all I really want to be is a fragile, soft, sweet girl who people can understand as able to be heartbroken or stepped on or used. I'd like people to adopt a perspective that perhaps the reason I can console on such a broad spectrum just might be because I've been there - I've felt that - I remember the pain... but most importantly, I remember a colder version of the wound - the kind without the hug, without the fingertips to wipe the tears. I remember "you're a tough girl, you'll get over it." And it resonates, still.

Perhaps I still have some of that fight left in me. If I can reach deep down one more time and pull that passion for self-preservation, wrestle it once again - this time, I'll fight to defend my own emotions. Instead of resigning myself to losing another battle, to finding myself in another emotive failure, I will give a little bit of myself every day to keeping this alive - at least until two fingers grip the wick and douse the flame.

And through it all, the nice warm feelings of hope and the pangs of empty regret, I can't help but feel like I made a lovely mistake of which I'll pay the price for quite some time. "And I'll say my prayers, light myself on fire, and walk out on the wire once again..."

Give me the keys and I'll drive you crazy

2008-10-19T18:56:00.000-07:00

A few times in my life people have asked me if I ever plan to write a memoire. To this I reply silently with a look of confusion because frankly - why in the hell would I write a memoire? What have I done that people would want to read about? But, whatever - I gave up attempting to figure out the folks I pal around with a long time ago - collectively, we're all a few picnics shy of a happy childhood.

If I ever do publish a few things - or become a kickass english professor who does something noteworthy for urban education - perhaps I will write an autobiography. Oh - but what would I title it? There are so many witty things I could think of - but in the case of my life it's best to just get straight to the point:

"Lowered Expectations"

It never fails that each day I'm met with a situation where I have to question another individual's capacity to take in breath let alone hold down a job or operate a motor vehicle. Call me arrogant - call me elitist - call me a bitch - call me whatever the hell you want, I assure you it's nothing I haven't already heard. Allow me to point out a wonderful irony in lieu of being called "arrogant and elitist" for highlighting the short-comings of others...

In this United States of America we are, collectively, the most arrogant, swine-brained son-of-a-bitches on the entire planet. We are a nation comprised of people who believe that their concept of God has somehow decided to bless them over others, and that their overall way of life should be adopted by the rest of the globe - yes, this way of life: false democracy, obesity, sedentary lifestyles, failed educational systems, mental and physical laziness, racism, sexism, homophobia, xenophobia, and die-hard de-regulated capitalism. So, to the next motherfucker with a flag t-shirt and a 10th grade education who calls me elitist : God Bless America, Dickhead!

In happier news:

It's breast cancer awareness month and Best Buy employees get to participate by sporting pink polos!

Having lost loved ones to cancer - I am quite passionate about cancer research, fund raising for it, and general support for survivors and their families as well as the families of victims. Though I give my time in volunteering for this cause - I still advise everyone to do the most charitable thing anyone can do - and that is to love everyone in your life as strong as you can every single day - even if they're egocentric nationalistic brats. ;)

Possible "Polignorance" and the prospect of a paramour

2008-10-17T18:18:00.000-07:00

It's far from a secret that I'm a huge fan of alliteration, folks. Now that identifying the obvious is out of the way, let's get down to some proverbial "business."

I'm guessing that the majority of my readership already knows that my birthday is (yes, feel free to gasp at how awesome this really isn't) election day: The Ever-Aggrandized Glorious 4th Day of November, Two-Thousand-Eight.

Has this caused me to pay more attention to politics than I usually would? Maybe. Alright, no - but I am willing to poke fun at my occasional trips into the land of self-importance. Truth be told, I'm just a struggling 20-something staring down a car-finance (Let's say a Bentley rather than a Honda) sized student loan debt while spending MORE money attempting to get yet ANOTHER degree. No, no - not stupid, just passionate. Point being - as our presidential candidates this year - I'm "just like you!" Except... I really am just like you... broke but not impoverished, determined but but susceptible to distractions, and overwhelmed but hard-working (assuming lazy people don't read my blog, which is repellent yet wishful thinking on my part.) As I approach the great quarter-century mark of my existence, I have been pondering many things to the point of exhaustion. Those of you who have known me for years are now rolling your eyes and stating "And that's different from any other time, how?"

Hush, now - we must not look to the past! Haven't you learned a thing from Caribou Barbie? Yes, that last statement was entirely gratuitous and purely for my own amusement.

What I've been wondering is, where are my people? Not my "people" as in say, my emissaries - whom I still haven't been able to allocate despite great efforts, mind you. I mean my "people" as in, those who were born in the early eighties - ya know, the other assholes who give equal blog space to politics and Sex and the City episodes that flesh out their fears of being single and approaching thirty. Where are those of us who in one day can bemoan yet another friends wedding invitation as well as socialized health care all in a matter of a few hours?

The answer I've come up with is simply this: We're wearing red and white striped shirts against a two-page spread of people hanging out at a carnival. If you're looking up, over and behind you right now - what I mean to say is: we're hard to find. But WHY are we so hard to find - those 20-somethings that should have every reason to pay equal attention to politics as well as the commonly erratic nature of our quarter life-crises? It's an epidemic dripped slowly into the water by several forms of media - and I have officially coined this epidemic "Polignorance."

Now, because I already fear someone stealing the terminology from me as is - I will not go on at length about my theories surrounding the word. Suffice to say that my participation in National Novel Writing Month (Nanowrimo) this year will hopefully provide a very funny, yet very informed and well thought-out take on why politics in the United States (EVEN after this year's diverse contest) still fails to grab my age group by the respective reproductive organs. So, hopefully some day you'll find me on Bill Maher's panel or soaking up a segment of Olberman's "Countdown" - but trust me, that's not because of my liberal bias - it's purely because if Glenn Beck were to ask me onto his show, I wouldn't be able to fight the urge to request that he replay over and over again the clip in which he refers to himself as "white trash." I mean, we just wouldn't get anything covered in that interview.

Lacking a clever transition, here's the little "meta-moment" of this blog.

Human chemistry. It's a beautiful thing, isn't it? That wonderful feeling that so often is difficult to equate to much of anything. Some try to hard to make it work - experimenting day in and day out with different methods, straining profusely to find the right quantity of this to mix with that. Some labor over this seemingly endless experiment - taking years to convince themselves that coming close to the perfect chemical solution is the best they'll ever get. Some people are alright with settling for mediocrity - for respected diligence over effortless quality. I have frowned at such efforts for as long as I've witnessed them, and I swore to myself that I would rather live alone than have to labor for love.

I am fully aware that even the most intensely loving relationships involve some elbow grease and a decent amount of compromise - but all too often, people mistake the necessity for personal diversity in a relationship as surrendering your license to be loved, respected, and admired by the other on a daily basis instead of when it's convenient for them. Extenuating circumstances are simply not enough to give up the prospect of spending your time with someone who makes you happy without testing several formulas in order to do so. Those things at stake in a split: Mortgages, children, that awesome hoodie you're certain she'll keep if you dump her - grandiose to miniscule - with the right amount of effort and 100% heart, all are manageable. With so little time we have in life, there is no excuse for second-guessing or for working hard at emotions that we know can come so easily.

So what do you do when you're almost positive you've found that chemistry? How do you handle the idea that you just might be falling in love? Of course the usual answer is: Shout it from the fuckin' rooftops! Tell everyone! Tell him/her! Write sappy poems and stick them under their windshield wiper! Send them flowers, make them a mix tape - shit, the list goes on. But what if there exists more than one factor which steals away your freedom of expression? Like a thick pane of glass between two people - there they sit, tapping occasionally, pressing their hands against the cold, transparent, but solid wall - at least one, maybe both hoping that soon someone might gather enough strength to smash it to pieces. So what works? How do you reconcile that cheesy butterfly feeling every time he touches you? How do you pass off the blushing, or losing yourself in listening to him speak? How in the HELL do you escape the goddamned Disney movie you find yourself living in?

Self-promotion is ineffective - if you're genuine then it should be absolutely clear what you have to offer. Simply making a blind move to alter the circumstances (that is, without consulting the other person first) could cause long-term discomfort if the ultimate end is not achieved via the means. So, if making the case and making the move are both out of the question - all you have left is honesty, and patience - oddly enough, two of the greatest components of any healthy relationship.

And there's the one-two punch: your author is falling in love - and she's willing to wait it out. And even if it all turns out to be futile or a farce, if it's sooner rather than later - it's worth it. Ask me why, and that's an entirely different blog that would threaten to waste just as much of your time, if not more. :)

Purge

2008-08-13T06:47:00.000-07:00

Some people are nothing more than a walking disease. Every now and again it's healthy to cleanse your system.

Time out. Toxin free.

Green means Go!

2008-08-11T12:43:00.000-07:00

As some of you may recall, a little while ago I decided to make a substantial investment (when measured against my income) in order to make an effort toward long-term savings.

I went green. Literally. A lime green, 24 speed, top of the line mountain bike designed specifically for city riding. The short term goal is saving on gas, the long term goal is saving wear and tear on my vehicle. I've been on the "bike initiative" for a couple weeks, now. Riding has changed numerous aspects of my life - time, money, testing physical limits, awareness, and so on and so forth. With the ipod on shuffle, I speed through intersections - backpack stocked with water bottle, wallet, and bike lock. I ride an average of 3 hours a day and even though it's time that takes away from writing - it's incredible how many thoughts I generate on my rides.

I've been thinking a lot about the physical as well as mental aspects of riding. Obviously biking is one of the best exercises you can do. But, more so than that - it increases the powers of observation and awareness. It commands full attention at all times - attention to your body, upper and lower, attention to the ground, and identifying any activity around you. While riding, you're more involved in the world than while driving or even walking. A car helps you to feel impervious enough to lose a necessary element of fear, and the pace of walking puts most individuals out of trouble by increasing ones reaction time to any impending danger. Biking decreases the reaction time, while keeping the element of fear that comes from an open exposure to all elements - most importantly, large speeding hunks of steel with someone texting behind the wheel.

I'm certain that all of this isn't anything that others haven't gone on about ad nauseam - however - it's the technological aspect that I'm interested in. Biking has presented a very interesting situation for me - it's the first time that I've ever had to ignore my phone for a period of time. While walking, driving, while in class or at work, while reading or listening to podcasts and writing - my phone is always no more than 3 feet away from my hands. Without going into why I feel so connected to my cell phone (why I think that it's not a problem and actually very important to the aspect of technology rhetoric I'm interested in), I've suddenly become enthralled with the fact that the intoxication of biking has usurped my plug-in and more so, the fact that it has no choice.

Is it a coincidence that demanding physical activities require a certain technological disconnect? As a friend of mine says, there are no coincidences. If you don't hear from me in the next week or so, trust that I'm riding my bike somewhere, connecting the academia dots.

No blogs in 1984

2008-08-05T08:16:00.000-07:00

George Orwell's diaries are going to be published online.

They're now suggesting that 70 years after these diary entries were written, the posthumous translation into blog form will add "blogging" to his massive list of literary accomplishments.

I'm not sure whether to think this is incredible, or just incredibly ridiculous.