Updates For Everyone

Quick update: Christmas was good. Lots of presents were had. Lots of drinks consumed and many hands were bruised thanks to a fabulous game called Slamwich. Then four days off from work. Which was also good. I learned exactly how awful I am at Xbox games. I also learned that The Boy is very patient. But most importantly- Jackson entered my life. Jackson was given to me in a shiny box with an apple on it. He's from a distingushed family of itouches. It's been a songless year since Timmy died and to be honest I wasn't sure I was ready to replace him. It's been a year since I've had an ipod and I really thought that I was ok without one. I listened to the radio or Pandora at the house. Jackson has been in my life for four whole days and I swear I will never be without some form of ipod ever again. The happiness he brings me is without equal. Listening to The Cold War Kids while shopping for books = heaven. It was weird to realize that I've been at my "new" job for three months now. It was also weird to realize that despite the stress and overall insaneness of the job I really do like it. My schedule changes every two weeks so my social life has been limping along but I love that it keeps changing. When I've worked 9-5 Mon-Thur type jobs before I would feel claustrophobic. As of Jan 4 we switch to three 12 hour shifts a week. Which means 4 days off a week. Which totally rocks my world. The downside of all this fabulousness? I'm making oddles of money but I'm also spending oddles of money. Saving does not appear to be in my vocabulary. I'm really hoping this 2012 stuff is real. Cause I doubt I'll have any kind of savings set aside. If I ever have to depend on what I've saved in order to buy food, I'll starve. Unless Jackson happens to double as food. PS. Mckenna and Ryan are in town!

How Do You Breathe?

It's seven am. I've been off work since five am. I'm watching So You Think You Can Dance that I recorded. Drinking hard cider (which tastes much better then beer) and feeling slightly sad. I love this show. LOVE. It's much better then Dancing With The Stars. because this isn't just fading celebrities who need attention but actual real dancers who love what they do with so much passion that even my nondancing boyfriend loves it. So as a burned out dancer, I love it. But sometimes it makes me sad to watch it. Once upon a time I loved dancing. I devoted my life to it. Breathed it. But as Erin tells her little school children "life is hard" and mom and dad could no longer afford lessons and I went to work at the family store (really, we had a family store. How little house on the prairie is that? Turns out, not so much) So watching SYTYCD I can't help but wonder if I would have made it past auditions. If life had been slightly different would I be warming up backstage for some show at night instead of running on some treadmill every night just to get enough exercise so I can sleep at night? Some things you can't quit. I still dance in my kitchen while cooking. When I turn, I do so on my toes. If a boy spins me... I'll confess my love. I still look for a decent salsa club and I still think I can convince the boyfriend that ballroom lessons is what he really wants for christmas. I know dance is something I write about alot, mostly with regret, but I writing is theraputic and since I'm not likely to become a professional dancer at this age, I write. But I think we all have something that we are holding on to. Whether its a passion that we couldn't fulfill or a love that went wrong. So hopefully when I'm writing on my unfullfilled love for dance, you are dwelling on whatever or whoever it was that got away from you. I think mankind was made for passions. Grand, poem sprouting passion. And I think we are taught to be ashamed of showing such passion (unless it's vampire related) so we let go of what we love because we're told we need to grow up. We get jobs that involve computers and costumer service while we silently dream of dancing or soccer or comic book creating. Isn't it sad to realize your parents crushed your dreams when they thought they were preparing you for the real world. And maybe they were. Maybe a 9-5 job is what the real world is all about. But It's one thing to have given up on a dream. It's another to have a dream replaced with responsibility that shouldn't have been yours. "It must have been love, but it's over now"

I'll never learn

I'm still in training. In fact, I'll be in training for most of the next year. Possibly the rest of my life. I'm not pleased with this. All this.. learning. At least there is no homework. Yet.

Amidst all this forced learning I've managed to learn two new things about myself. Both completely surprising.

I've learned that I like coffee. Well, that I like mocha's. Which I think is coffee but with lots of sugar and other stuff to make it less coffee like. So I guess you can say I like weak non coffee. But it's a step. Now for those of you who know me and have gasped "but Sam?! won't you be up all night? half a coke keeps you up all night!". Well don't worry about me. I've only had it very early in the morning, like at eight or nine am. So I'm wired for most of the day, and as long as I run at night I can manage to sleep. But thanks for worrying about me, you guys really are the best.

I discovered this tentative, bubble wrapped love affair with mocha just the other day. For work we had to do an eight to five day downtown for Ethics training. Which meant I had to be up far too early. Especially since we decided to ride the light rail in order to avoid dealing with traffic and parking. So I show up at the substation at seven thirty, cranky, sleepy and all around lovable as I generally am in the morning, sure that the day was going to be awful. But.. it wasn't. It was my first time on the light rail, and as corny it sounds, I really like riding public transportation. The people riding are always fascinating to watch and somehow my Ipod (thanks again for the shiny ipod Chris) played exactly what I needed to wake me up. Once we were off, we stopped at a local coffee shop. It was only a five minute walk from the light rail to the building we had to go to, so we had a little time. And it was nice. Really nice. Just walking down the street with a light wind, hot coffee and a comfy jacket. I could almost pretend like I wasn't heading to more training. And that's when I discovered the second thing about me.

I don't mind mornings.

Well, let me rephrase. I do mind mornings. My normal routine is to wake up twenty minutes before I have to be somewhere, curse at everyone who drives slower then me, slid into my seat and glower at the world. It then normally takes me about an hour to wake up fully and be a functional member of society.

But the other morning when I was forced to wake up extra early for that meeting I discovered that mornings can be kinda nice. They can start off relaxing and soothing. And all it would take is for me to be willing to wake up an hour early each morning. An hour that I could spend working out. Or eating a real breakfast. Or do my hair. Or just watching an episode of Buffy before I head off to work, all relaxed and put together.

So that night I set my alarm for an hour before I normally get up.
And the next morning I hit the snooze button until my normal time.

Which is I rediscovered something about myself. I'm just not a morning person. If I can sleep an extra ten minutes, I will. Even if I've had a full nights sleep. I'll stay up until I'm about to fall asleep on the couch (again) but I hate waking up before I have to. And even though I know how nice it is to have extra time in the morning... I can't do it. It's just not worth it to me. Not even if it means a mocha in the morning.

Update

Things that I've been doing lately instead of writing: 1. Working 10 hour days 4 days a week. 2. Enjoying having 3 days off each week. 3. Sleeping. A lot. 4. Reading Flipping the Switch on Technologly by Eric Brende ( He and his wife move to an amish community. Its awesome. Plus, I feel strangely close to Lachelle and Manassah while reading it) 5. Stalking your blog and feeling let down when you don't update daily (Seriously, I have needs!) 6. Receiving my first paycheck with a ridiculas amount of money. Which all went to pay bills because I went two months without working. 7.Hating Tony Horton. Cheeky bastard 8. Having a kickass Halloween. Seriously. I have picture proof that my halloween was better than yours.

I started P90X again. I'm on the second week. Which means Yoga once a week.

Have I mentioned how much I hate yoga?

Great Expectations

I hate when I have internet problems. Going a week without internet makes me feel disconnected. And then when I finally have access once again I don't know how to start writing again. Or maybe that's just an excuse. I've found there are times when I write almost daily. Then there are times when it's hard to write once a week. I guess this is just one of those weeks.

I have officially clocked 40 hours of work at the new job. The job that has been my goal for a little over a year. The job that will supposably put me on the path to my dreams. The job that will allow me to make lots of money, go to school and enjoy what I do (somewhat). Don't feel pressured JOB, I'm sure you'll be great.

So what are my thoughts on the new job so far?

I like it. I haven't actually done anything yet, mostly just listening to 911 calls and studying the radio codes so I can super sneaky things like "The 101 is 10-17" or "Yeah, I'm Code 4 thanks to the 647T". Wait, I think that last one says I'm ok thanks to the transit. Err. Like I said, I'm still learning.

But it's exciting. The calls are interesting, sometimes exasperating and sometimes heartbreaking. This job may make me lose my faith in people, but that was waning anyway.

I know it will be hard. And it will be stressful. But that's ok. It's been a while since I've really felt challenged by something. It will be good for me.

Plus the paycheck will rock.

Continue that train thought please...

It's not that I forgot about this blog, I've just been a tad bit busy.
Busy doing nothing in Mexico. Which was fabulous.

Now, where were we? Oh right. Books.

I'm a Book person. We're a particular group of people. We come in all shapes and sizes. Some of us love libraries. Some of prefer old used bookstores while others are Barnes and Noble snobs. We're a little hard to define. For instance: does someone who only reads anima get to be considered a Book person? To qualify does one have to quota to read each month? I'm not sure. What I do know is that when I meet someone I know pretty quickly if they are a Book person or not. Somehow we recognize each other.
And we know when you're faking too. So put your copy of Twilight away. We're on to you.

I can't tell you if Book people are born or created. Would I be a Book person if my family hadn't moved as much as we did? If we had stayed in Orem all my life would I be a Quilt person? Or would I still have spent my childhood begging my mom to go to the library again. My poor mother didn't know what to do with me. I think she found a reading list of classic literature for high school students and just started recommending them to me when I was in the fourth grade. So my reading career went something like this. Pre-reading on my own -Serendipity books, 1st grade to 4th grade -The Baby Sitter's Club, 4th grade -Victor Hugo, Dickens, The Bronte Sisters and so on. I devored the classics. By high school I knew that Hemingway was overrated, Edmund Dantes was dreamy in a brooding, emotionally unavailable sort of way, and that rebellions as whole seem to cause lots of suffering before they achieve any good. I had acquired a massive vocabulary that I couldn't really pronounce cause I had only read the words and never heard them spoken aloud. I would say phrases that were slightly out of date. In junior high I was nervously conversing with a cute boy about a teacher we both hated and I said "oh yeah, she's awful. I hate her with a fiery passion." I think he laughed at me for a solid five minutes.

In high school I met Matt, who was another Book person. But Matt was a fantasy Book person. He introduced me to Robert Jordan and I nearly failed math as a result. I spent a good few years ransacking book shops in search of good fantasy. Then I slid into a history phase, reading books that were so dry I was afraid they'd start a brush fire. Yet I loved them. I met another Matt and he wasn't much of a Book person but he liked memoirs and he gave me a taste into that world, which is the phase I'm currently in.

So you see, I've always considered myself a fairly well rounded Book person.

Two weeks ago I was visiting some dear friends in Utah. We started discussing books, cause we're prone to do that. In the course of the conversation Andy and Lachelle mentioned several authors and books that.. well, I had never heard of. I felt my face go red. It was if we were all movie fanatics (which we are as well, but thats not the point) and they suddenly started to discuss their favorite war movies and I realized Saving Private Ryan was the only war movie I had seen. It didn't matter how many other movies in other genres I had watched. I was woefully lacking in the war department. I'm not used to feeling inadequate in the literature department. I'm not great at ball sports. I'm kind of flighty, my life plan changes daily. But books, books, that I'm good at. I felt the urge to go to a bookstore immediately and read all the books that Andy mentioned, just so I could catch up. So I could be smart, like them.

Then I realized.
It's ok that I haven't read the same books as them. It's ok that I haven't hit that phase yet. I may never hit that phase. Lachelle and I may never see eye to eye on books. That doesn't make me less of a Book person. It's ok that I prefer classics, and noire and urban fantasy. I'm a Book person, it's not like we're at the top of the cool chain.

Besides, I'm pretty sure Andy and Lachelle love me despite the lack of similar reading tastes.

Confessions

I freely admit to blog stalking. It's a sickness.

My damn curiosity + my fascination with people + my need to read + books being expensive = blog stalking.

It can't be helped.

I love reading blogs. It doesn't matter if I know the authors or not. It doesn't matter if it's well written (though it helps). It doesn't matter if the blog is all pictures.I like pictures. I'll read it. And if I like what I read, I'll revisit that blog as often as it's updated. In fact, I'll get annoyed if it's not updated often enough. And by "enough" I mean two or three times a week.

Which means that you, Miss Taylor AND Miss Lachelle, are in the red for not updating enough.

Andy, you're doing fantastic.

In fact, the whole reason I started a public blog was because I felt guilty about how I was sneaking around the blogs, hiding in the shadows, getting to know all these fabulous people, while they have no idea that I am silently applauding their recent diet efforts or that I too think their hair cut is fabulous ps thanks for posting pictures. I suppose I felt it was only fair to share myself with the blog world as well.

Why the sudden need to confess you ask? Well because I read a blog entry that I not only sparked my interest, but sparked a train of thought of my own. And some of you that read my blog and read hers will see the common themes. So I figured I'd confess now instead of you drawing your own conclusions and think I'm some creepy blog stalker. Which I am. But that's not the point.

So the lovely blog entry I read can be found here - http://emdab.blogspot.com/2009/10/book-people.html . No I don't know her, but I find her to be absolutely delightful. I was overjoyed to read this perticular entry because I too am a Book People. And we Book People love reading about others like us. We love talking to other people like us. We like knowing that we are not alone in this big XBox world we live in.

I'm going to stop here. It's getting late and I realized this entry was a little more then I can chew/write in one sitting. So here's some homework. Read the above blog entry. And tomorrow or possibly the day after (let's be realistic, the day after) I will post my thoughts about the said blog. Sounds good? Good.

Goodnight moon.

An Ode to Friendship

I just need to say how much I love this girl.

Friends come and go pretty quickly in my life.

I hope she stays.

Hello waking world! I have returned

I've been meaning to blog for a while.
Well, I've been meaning to do a lot of things for a while.
Like pack.
Or job search.
Instead I've been semi comatose in my comfy little bed.

I've been sleeping around the clock, waking up long enough to take more medicine and then back to bed. I haven't even watched Buffy in the last four days.

Today was the first day that I finally believe the medicine Dr.Sutton gave is working and not just a virus that will gradually turn me into a zombie. Or maybe it is a virus that is suppose to turn me into a zombie but it turns out I'm immune.

Either way, I feel slightly like a human being again. Alive one, that is.

Having spent the last few days in bed has left me restless. And nervous. There has been some unexpected road work happening on my path of life and I'm not sure if I should wait till it's fixed or find a detour. Lying in bed for a few days doing lots of thinking but little doing has made me very restless indeed. However, I am restless with no energy.
So I made a blanket fort underneath the stairs.


It is perfect size for snuggling under my blanket and enjoying my new book that my mom was gracious enough to provide me with. It also makes me feel like a rebel for leaving my bed.
The stairs act as a perfect shelf for my hot tea, as long as Ryan doesn't knock it over accidently. In my blanket fort I am safe, isolated from the harsh world. I kinda of like it in here.

But as comfy as I have been in my little blanket fort I know I shall have to leave it soon. There is too much to do and I have already wasted too much time in bed. In a day or two I will be staying with the wonderful Andy who plays guitar and has great taste in movies and books. I'll get to visit with the lovely Lachelle and her hippie husband whenever I feel like walking the six blocks to their house. I'll get to see other cousins and friends too. And I'm excited, even if I don't have the energy to show that excitment.

I'm not sure what is going to happen next. Either way, I think it's time I left the safety of my blanket fort.

Time to rejoice. And dance. Dance baby dance

There was a wedding last Saturday.

David and Sarah's wedding, to be exact.
The bride was beautiful. As was the entire wedding and reception.

The bride and groom danced the first dance...

Then the bridal party took over from there..
There was dancing all night long

And then there was picture taking..

Lots of pictures were taken..

Some were posed...

Some were really posed..

Some were clearly not posed...

Others were just picture challenged..

But mostly, there was dancing(That's right, it's Thriller.)

Dear Reality-

I've tried to talk to you about this several times before, but you just keep bringing me down. You're a real debbie downer do you realize that? I've made good friends with Hope and Dreams these last few months. The three of us have hung out numerous times, and even planned something of a future together. But I've learned something. You, Reality, you are just too jealous. Just when Hopes and Dreams and I are getting along, you come crashing the party. And no one likes a party pooper. I've tried to be a good friend to you over the years, but lately, well, you're just bumming me out. Please go on an extended vacation. Maybe you will come back refreshed and cheery. That'd be nice. Then maybe we can give this friendship another go.

Sam

Love is not a victory march

I try to downplay it, but I've had a new obsession for the last two months or so. I try to downplay it because 1) I hate admitting that I'm addicted to something. Addiction means lack of control. I like to pretend like I have control over myself. That there aren't moments when I feel helpless, moments when I feel constrained by my own ineptitude, moments when I only see a bleak future, moments when I only see a futureless present.. Don't be mistaken. These are only moments. 99% of my days are spent with a smile on my lips and spring in my step. But everyone has moments. Most of the time I choose to ignore my moments. Ignoring the darkness is how I deal with it. Except for the occasional times when I wallow in it. Those are times when I willingly give up my control. Those times usually involve ice cream.

But I digress. Back to the subject at hand.

My recent obsession. The second reason I downplay it is cause it's kind of outdated. And by outdated I mean that I'm addicted to a tv series that was big in the 90's. See, I've recently discovered Buffy the Vampire Slayer on dvd. And have been feverishly watching episode after episode. I missed the trend when it was on tv. At the time I was attending dance classes and had dreams that involved stages. There was no time for tv. So now, some ten years later here I am, loving Buffy. Wanting to talk about each development, discuss characters and their developments, wanting to chat about the dreaminess of Angel. Ahhem. Anyways. So there you have it. I've outed myself. I'm a Buffyholic.

Why the sudden need to confess, you ask? Because a scene in the latest episode I watched brought a flurry of thoughts to my mind. Thoughts that I need to write down, lest I lose sleep while chasing them down in the corridors of my mind.

The scene was simple. Buffy and Riley wake up in the morning, both start to get ready for their day, Riley realizes Buffy is mad at him by her silent treatment and says "I've only been up for a minute and I've already managed to piss you off. What'd I do?". The scene continues, but that's not what is important to this post. What struck me so hard was what happened in that few short minutes of screen time. It was a typical couple fight. One we've all had. One person is miffed at a perceived slight, the other person doesn't even realize a fight has begun. Sarcasm is exchanged until there is either heated words, or someone is the bigger person and works for reconciliation. Sometimes there is make up sex. That's always nice. Sometimes there is more fighting and storming off. With luck, there is at some point reconciliation and make up sex.

All this goes through my head, along with this thought-

It's been a long time since I've gone through those motions.

A long time since I've felt miffed at someone for a perceived slight.

A long time since I've picked a fight with a loved someone simply because I was feeling angsty.

A long time since I've fought with someone over something stupid.

Because it's been a long time since I've been in a relationship.

And with that thought, I realized how nice it's been. No petty fights. No angsty feelings that are misdirected because I haven't have time to realize what the real issue is. When I'm in a relationship I'm with that person. All the time. I like being with the person I'm in love with. I like having them around. I pretty sure I'm not an anomaly in this area. But because of that, the person that I care most about sometimes has to deal with my shit. I always make it up to them (make up sex!), but I still feel badly.

And it's been nice, not having those petty fights. I've really come to cherish my alone time. Now, when I feel angsty or girly, I have time to examine these feelings. Find the true source of said feelings and either work them out, or come to grips with them. I feel more centered now then I ever have in my life.

Armed with this new knowledge, I wonder. When I enter a new relationship, will I do better this time? Will this relationship go smoother, will there be fewer fights now that I understand myself a little better? Or will I slide back into old habits, having petty fights and forgetting to show him how much I care for him?

I hope not.

Watching that scene also triggered another line of thoughts. Or rather, emotions. And that was this-

It's been a long time since I've woken up next to someone on a daily basis.

A long time since someone has held me when I felt broken.

A long time since I've been so close to someone that our emotions bleed together.

When friends ask me how I am I always pause, then tell them I'm fine. This is truth. I am fine. I love my roommate, my job, my friends, my life. I'm at one of my happiest points in my life. Life is definitely good. But still, when they ask how I am, I pause. Now I know why.

I don't miss the fights.

But I do miss intimacy.

A teaser

I would love for this to be a long, involved post about my recent backpacking adventure. I really would. And I'm sure you'd love to be bored by said long, involved post. But since I've been home for all of two hours and have done nothing but shower and drink lots of water you will have to settle for a picture or two.

Before the weekend is over I'll tell you all about it. I promise. Maybe.

It was a good trip.

Bragging Rights

I swear this is not a workout journal.
It's just that I am really proud of myself. For the second time ever I completed the crossfit workout as stated. And as boring as it may sound to you... it makes me pretty happy.

So today's workout was
1 mile run
21 pull ups
21 thrusters*
800 meter run
15 pull ups
15 thrusters
400 meter run
9 pull ups
9 thrusters

*If you don't know what a thruster is - http://www.squidoo.com/thruster

I realize that posting this probably makes me sound like a fanatic. It also probably frustrates the hell out of my poor triathlon training partner Rachael, seeing as she has worked out with me numerous times and every time I complain and whine. Don't worry Rachael, I whine and complain during crossfit too. However, I bragged about my first 26 mile cycle ride on the B-Line, and I'm just as proud of completing a crossfit workout.

You know what is also fun? One could turn the speakers up full blast while playing Eyes on Fire by Blue Foundation after a workout. Sliding out of clothes and letting water from the shower rain down on their tired muscles. If one close their eyes, lose themselves in the music, it feels like a dramatic moment in a movie. Maybe someone important died. Or you, I mean they, just kicked ass in a really dirty fight. Eyes On Fire makes for some theatrical music. The mind tends to wander.

Hypothetically, of course.

A photo blog for the lazy

And now ladies and gentleman, a photo blog. Cause a picture is worth a thousand words. And cause I'm feeling too lazy to write an actual entry. And cause Dexter season 3 is on DVD and is demanding to be watched. And cause I'm feeling lazy.



Two weeks ago Rachael, Erica and I all went to see the midnight showing of The Time Traveller's Wife.
Normally I abhore chick flicks, but I since I had read the book in two sittings AND Eric Bana was playing the leading role.. well exceptions can be made.

Knowing how the movie would end, we came prepared. With tissues.

Or rather, Rachael stole the box of tissues from the theater bathroom. Sorry AMC.

Then last night was a long over due daddy daddy daughter date. We haven't done a family day since the Impromtu Cali Trip of June.

We started with sushi and drinks. I discovered a love for pear sake and the boys enjoyed sake bombers

We played games

We ate cookies

And Ryan impressed us with his spot on snake impersonatio

Sell out! with me tonight

Cause I'm shameless and I want to win a free session.


Ashley is a local photographer trying to get her name out there. She's got a great eye.
http://ashleymadsenphotography.com/blog/

Check her out!

Crossfit, you are now my bitch

I've never been keen on exercise.

I danced through school. Literally. My first period of the day was dance, after school I had two-four hours of dance classes depending on the weekday and then I spent the weekends dancing with a group of kids that loved swing dancing with all their geeky hearts. I breathed dance. You know that awful montage in Footloose where all the characters practice their dance moves in random places like the school hallways and the diner? That was me. All. The. Time.

Casey once bet me that I couldn't make it through the lunch hour without spinning. I made it ten minutes.

I loved dancing. Swing, Jazz, Lyrical, Hip Hop (which didn't love me but I kept trying it nevertheless), Ballet, Salsa. I had dreams of owning my own studio and never going a day without music and movement.

But life happens. My dad was no longer working, classes were considered an unnecessary luxury and I was forced to quit dancing cold turkey. I could tell you how my heart broke, which it did, I could tell you about the void it left in my life, which there was, but the truth is, that was years ago. Life continued. In college I have taken some dance classes, just for fun. I found an a salsa club when I lived in utah that was so authentic I was the only person there who was blonde and didn't speak spanish. In phoenix there is a rocking goth club that Ryan and I dance at and giggle the whole time. My kitchen frequently hosts dance partys with the attendance of one.

That being said, I've never considered dance as a form of exercise. It was art, it was healing, it was fun. But work? Exercise? Never. The fact that I was skinny and in shape during those years of dance was merely luck.

Fastforward a few years. I entered a point in my life where not only would my body and self image appreciate the exercise, but so would my soul. I worked in an office that caused more stress on me then I would care to admit, my romantic relationship was becoming more rocky as each day passed and many of my friends had moved out of state. I was stressed And I was lonely. There was no outlet for all my petty angst. I suppose I could have dyed my hair black, ripped up my clothes and wrote bad poetry. Oh wait, I did dye my hair black. But after a brief period of just letting everything build up inside, I turned to working out as way to work out my aggression.

I started going to the gym with either Berto or Cliff, whoever was available that night. Berto, Matt and I would sometimes run at the local junior high. I hated those days. I hated all of it. What I hated the most was the knowledge that I did feel better on the days I worked out. Both emotionally and physically. So I kept working out, changing gym partners as people came in and out of my life. Never really enjoying it, but sticking with it because I noticed the difference in my life when I wasn't consistent.

Now I'm one of those nuts who talk about how good exercise is for the soul and feel guilty when I miss a day of working out. Seriously, I could be catholic with the amount of guilt I'm capable of feeling when I bail on my training buddy.

Last October I started P90X. I was in ok shape, but nothing to brag about. I stuck with it until January. At that point I could no longer handle Tony Horton. P90X is a great workout system, but even with all the different workout options it still gets repetitive. In January I started Crossfit, which is a daily, different, twenty minute workout program that is posted online everyday. To emphasis just how hard Crossfit is I'll tell you now that I've never been able to do the daily workout as stated. And I've been training for four days a week for a triathlon in addition to doing crossfit for the last two months. Crossfit is what the actors from 300 did for three hours a day to get those drool-worthy abs three months before filming. So yeah, crossfit is hard. For the last two months I've only been doing it two or three times a week because 1) I've been training with Rachael for my first triathlon 2) it's hard and I jumped (well, sluggishly crawled) at the slightest excuse to not do it.

Now, the reason behind this incredibly long and detailed post? Well today I did the crossfit workout as stated. For the first time ever. I accomplished the whole damn workout.
Which was:
Walking lunge 100 ft.
21 Pull-ups 21 Sit-ups
Walking lunge 100 ft.
18 Pull-ups 18 Sit-ups
Walking lunge 100 ft.
15 Pull-ups 15 Sit-ups
Walking lunge 100 ft.
12 Pull-ups 12 Sit-ups
Walking lunge 100 ft.
9 Pull-ups 9 Sit-ups
Walking Lunge 100 ft.
6 Pull-ups 6 Sit-ups

And I did it. Take that crossfit.

Yoga, How I loathe thee

Every six months or so I think to myself "I should do yoga". So I go to one class and swear never to go again. For me, yoga is boring. Yes it stretches my body, yes I feel good afterwards, but I swear its the longest hour of my life. All the talk about breathing, opening your third eye, align your stars... Blah. The seconds tick backwards on the clock. Cara says its because I have no inner peace. I'm ok with that. I know that I have a passionate, violent soul. I like high energy, loud music, turbulence, work me until I collapse, exercise. Breathing and reaching for the moon while opening my fifth nostril does not fit in with those requirements.

But for six months or so I see people with fantastic bodies claim yoga is all they do, hear how good yoga is for the soul, and I start to forget how I detest yoga. ( this is called brainwashing ). So tonight was the end of another six months. So I geared up, and went to yoga at my local gym.

And was bored within the first four minutes.

But I'm not one to walk out of a class, so I stretched my body, participated in the warrior wishes he had a gun pose and proceeded to plan the tattoo I was going to get so I would never foget how much I hate yoga.

And then the instructor did this.. thing.. I swear her forty year old body had her legs resting on her head in the floating in the middle of the air. Ok, she wasn't flying, but she was bent backward with one leg over her head and twisting around her neck. I was so intrigued I fell out of my pose and onto my butt. The rest of the class went about the same boring class, but I made a decsion. I was going to suck it up and keep going to yoga until I could do that. I mean.. to bend your body like that? I could join Cirque du Soleil!

So, with that goal in mind.... Any one want to help soften my boredom in yoga and come with me??

Soulmate? Yes Please

What I Want

I want somebody who sees the pointlessness
and still keeps their purpose in mind
I want somebody who has a tortured soul
some of the time
I want somebody who will
either put out for me
or put me out of misery
or maybe just put it all to words
and make me say, you know I never heard it put that way
make me say, what did you just say?
I want somebody who can hold my interest
hold it and never let it fall
someone who can flatten me with a kiss
that hits like a fist
or a sentence, that stops me like a brick wall
because if you hear me talking
listen to what I'm not saying
if you hear me playing guitar
listen to what I'm not playing and don't ask me to put words
to all the spaces between notes
in fact if you have to ask, forget it
do and you'll regret it
I'm tired of being the interesting one
I'm tired of having fun for two
just lay yourself on the line
and I might lay myself down by you
but don't sit behind your eyes and wait for me to surprise you
I want somebody who can make me scream until it's funny
give me a run for my money
I want someone who can twist me up in knots
tell me, for the woman who has everything what have you got?
I want someone who's not afraid of me
or anyone else
in other words I want someone who's not afraid of themself
do you think I'm asking too much?

In A Perfect World

This was from September 2008. A piece of fiction written in the style of Mr. Andy


We'll meet through chance. Maybe we'll both be at a bookstore, not a big corporate bookstore that is well lit and has soft music, but a family owned bookstore that has almost as much dust as it does books. I'll notice you over in the mystery section and be mortified that a cute guy saw me in the biography section, totally forgetting that anyone in a bookstore is likely to be as geeky as me and not care that I have the biography of Locke in my hands. Hell, you might even be more impressed by it. Our eyes will meet again as you sit down in a chair near mine and I'll wonder if you sat there because you hoped to start a conversation or because it was the only chair available. I consider waiting to see if you'll start a conversation, then remember that I'm not the type of girl who waits and sees. I'll grin lazily at you and say 'hello stranger'.

You'll be startled but flash a quick smile that tells me you did pick the seat on purpose. We'll start a conversation about our books and realize we could spend hours talking about the written word. And realize that we have. My stomach will protest, loudly, and we'll both laugh. You'll ask me to dinner and I'll counter the offer by suggesting appetizers and drinks instead. And then you'll say that line that is heard so often in black and white movies but rarely in real life, "let's get out of here".

We'll go to your favorite restuarant and the banter and real conversation will flow just as easily as a Gilmore Girl's episode. I'll confess my love for Joseph Gordon Lovett and you'll say 'I love Brick!' and that will turn my little crush on you into something more. When you tell me you own a mastiff and you named him Cuchulainn I will swoon, not only because you have a great big dog, but you named from irish mythology. Last call will send us reluctanctly outside to the real world and to our cars. When you ask if you can see me again I'll ask if you've ever read Dostoevsky. You'll know what short story I'm talking about without me even mentioning the title. You'll nod once. And then as I'm walking away, almost to my car, you will call my name. When I turn I'll find that you have chased me down and you're slightly out of breathe, and that you are awfully cute when your out of breathe. You'll ask me to write my number and put it in any book at the bookstore that we met in, and if you find it then screw the russians.

The next day I am at the cozy little bookstore, with a smile that refuses to leave my face. I have a scrap of paper with ten digits on it in my hand. I slip that paper into a book that means something to both of us, then look around at the little bookstore almost sadly. I love that little bookstore, but I won't be coming back. Dostoevsky had the right way of impromtu meetings with strangers. They are always perfect and that perfection should not be messed with by having a second meeting.

Unless, of course, you happen to open The Tain Bo Cualinge and see my phone number. In which case, screw the russians.

A Message In A Bottle

Since it's a new blog I'm pulling some stuff from older blogs. This was from March 2009 I think


Don't think for a moment that I cry in my bed for you every night. Or that I stay home and eat ice cream out of deppression from losing you.

It's not like that.

I go about my life actively trying to find ways to banish you from my memories. I take other guys to our special spots, I go out of my way to cook with Matt, or work out with Patrick. I talk to Andy when I feel weak, or want to share something happy. I accept every invitation for a date. When it comes to other guys I use them as dynomite to blow up the hold you still have over me.

That being said, I still miss you. I still crave you. None of these guys come close to you, whether its conversation, fun or chemistry. God damn it. I still care for you.

I love my life right now. Sure, I'm not in another country or traveling but I adore my job, love my co-workers, have a sweetheart dog, lots of dates, and for the first time in my life I not only know what I want to do with my life, but I know the path I need to travel to get there. I have a car, and am in the middle of the hiring process for a job that will pay really well AND allow me to pay for school. I feel peace for the first time in a long time, knowing that I have a future, a career, a life that fulfills everything my soul needs. I have a great group of friends, ones that I party with, giggle with, tell secrets with and grow with. I feel needed, accepted, loved by these friends.

The damn construction work that was blocking my path has finally finished and cleared up. Yes, I know that there will be missteps and that there might be more construction to be done on my road. I've been walking down this path for quite a while and it's like I just now realized there was a map for this path. I no longer worry about how much time it is taking me to travel. Reading that map reassures me that I know where I'm going.

But I miss your companionship. We were close for far too long for me not too.

I love my life right now. I'm genuinally happy. Yet missing you is a dull ache, one I only notice on a occasion. We were puzzle pieces and there are moments when I miss how we fit. I use my friends to fill in the holes you left. I use dates the way others use drugs, both for recational use and to forget you.

But I'm learning the subtle difference between holding a hand and chaining a soul. I'm learning that love does not mean leaning and company does not mean security. I'm learning that kisses aren't contracts and presents aren't promises. And I've begun to accept defeats with my head up, and my eyes ahead, with the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child. I'm learning that even sunshine burns if I get too much, so I plant my own garden and decorate my own soul, instead of waiting for someone to bring me flowers. And I'm learning, that I really can endure, that I really am strong, and I'm learning and I learn with every goodbye, I learn.

I don't understand how life can be so good for me, how I can enjoy it so much and still have any room in my life to miss you. But I do.


(and the part of me that is not as well adjusted hopes you are just as tormented from me walking out of your life. Cause i'm not all sunshine and rainbows)

A Chance Encounter

Have you ever accidently run into someone that you used to know really well but was no longer close to?

There's a moment of surprise. Your heart beats a little faster because, well, at one time they brought you happiness. There was a time when being in their company brought you joy and their approval meant something to you. For a moment you are genuinely happy to see them.

Then commen sense kicks in and you remember why the two of you are no longer close. The slight joy that had struck only a moment ago flitters away and all you are left with is panicked thoughts of how to get away as quickly and politely as possible. The two of you make awkward conversation that is hard to end. The awkwardness extends from the fact that all of their movements, quirks, style of speech is familior to you. You instinctively know how their head will bob when they emphasize a statement and how their eyes will widen just before they laugh. But it's like you are talking to a robot who moves and talks like that person you once knew so well. Because this person is no longer the person who they were when you loved them. They've changed. Or you've changed. Somewhere down the line they had let you down. Either way, your relationship is no longer the same.

It's slightly painful.

My training partner was with me when this happened this morning. It's always harder to go through these type of encounters when there is an outside third party present. Now you have to introduce the two people, one who you used to be close to and the other who you are currently close to. The lack of relationship is almost tangible. The third party can sense the slight tension and doesn't know whether her role should be to try and make things less awkward or try and hurry the conversation to a close.

So you make awkward conversation, laugh at how little things have changed and yet how much. You mentally decide to never go to that place again just so you can make sure you can avoid that person. Finally you both run out of things to say and go your own way.

As you walk away, your training partner looks at you and says " funny, that's not how I pictured your father would look like."

Why Am I Doing This To Myself Again?

Things that make training for a triathlon easier:

A) lots of inner rage and agnst that has no other outlet
B) a training partner that is in better shape then you
B1) and has longer legs then you, a better bike, used to be on swim team and more overall experience then you
C) the knowledge that you get to go back to sleep after your shower before you have to go to work
D) the fact that your triathlon is in a month (squeak!)
E) loud loud music
F) a secret desire to look like Buffy the Vampire Slayer. If I can't have her boyfriend then at least I can have her body.


Things that make training for a triathlon harder:

A) lots of inner rage that quickly dissipates as the hills get harder
B) a training partner that is in better shape then you
C) the knowledge that you could be sleeping
D) the fact that your triathlon is in a month and you feel so very unprepared
E) the lack of music when your ipod dies because you still have 13 miles to go and life hates you
F) knowing that you're never going to look like Buffy and even if you did her boyfriend is still not going to date you (but he might! there's always hope!)