On April 28, 2018, I ran the biggest and longest race of my life: the Kentucky Derby Festival Mini Marathon. About a year ago, I started my journey as a runner. Often times, I think the term "journey" is overused in the context of health and fitness, but after all this time, there is really no other better descriptor of the process. Pursuing a quest to become the best version of yourself is nothing short of an epic adventure; not only because of the physical changes, but also the mental, emotional, and even spiritual changes that take place.
Starting something new is scary...always. When I tell someone I'm a runner, 100% of the time, before I can even finish my sentence, they say, "I can't run, " or "I hate running," or "The only time I run is if I'm being chased." Every single one of those replies is a deflection from the REAL reason they don't run, too. They are afraid. Afraid of pain, afraid of the challenge, afraid of judgment, afraid of lack of mastery.....whatever the "it" is, they're afraid of it. About 90% of the time, I hear, "I tried it and I can't do it." Listen, I've been on the flip side, and I've cut somebody off to adamantly tell them I don't run and never will. But, guess what? I changed. How many things have you tried that you did perfectly on the first try? Learning something new takes effort....vulnerability....time. You need all of that so that you can see and appreciate your progress.
Over the past few years, I've tried a plethora of healthy lifestyles. I've experimented with many versions of healthy eating and various exercise plans, and I even became that person who thought her way was the best way, period. Through running, I have realized that life is really, truly about balance. It's about balancing all of the imbalances we see, feel, hear, and experience. It's about balancing all of the giving and the taking. It's about balancing the good with the bad. It's about balancing the challenges with the recovery periods.
Many of you saw my yoga headstand all those months ago; but let me tell you, that was minor compared to the accomplishment I felt running 13.1 miles. Just the other day, my life coach pointed out that I live a life where I feel the need to constantly improve. I have thought about that, and really pondered on the reason why I am that way. I always set high standards for myself - that's been the case since I was a kid. I am a bit of a smarty pants, so the need for challenges is inherent for me.
Although I am certain I will receive pushback for my next comment, I'm going to say it anyway. Many other types of fitness activities cap at a certain level of mastery then after that, you move into maintenance mode. Once you master a yoga pose, it's mastered. Once you learn choreographed dance fitness, you know it. Once you figure out all of those weights at the gym, there's nothing else about them to figure out. After all of that learning, you go into maintenance, and you can really only add more weight or more reps or more breaths. The thing with running is that there is always something you can improve upon, always a new challenge: speed, distance, nutrition, skill, endurance...you get the picture. There are also so many races all over the world - those experiences alone keep the running world exciting and new. Running is also one sport where you can be an individual and a team member at the same time. It is a very unique experience in that way.
The running community is one of the best parts about all of this. I have met some incredible people in this chapter of my life. There is always encouragement, support, advice, empathy, compassion, and the occasional swift kick in the ass when we need it. We are all just people going through this crazy life, trying to run to stay a little bit sane. That's it. There's nothing to be scared of.
Monday, April 30, 2018
Wednesday, January 24, 2018
Me, Too
This might be hard to read. It will not be terribly easy to write.
I've been following the case of Dr. Larry Nassar, the former Sports Medicine doctor at Michigan State University. He's the doctor who was accused of sexually abusing hundreds of female athletes at the university, who has already been sentenced to 60 years in prison for Federal Child Pornography charges, who has pled guilty to the sexual abuse of 7 girls/women. There are accusations of protection up the chain, from Nassar's colleagues, to the Athletic Director, to the President of the university. The survivors testified in their impact statements that he was reported, yet nothing was done. According to one girl, "we must have been confused." That was one of the responses to the original reports years ago. This doctor was sneaky, conniving, manipulative, devious...you name it. Even the judge said she couldn't say any more words to describe him.
He abused these girls with their parents in the exam room. Now, just think about what kind of person it takes to be that bold. To take that kind of risk. To have to be so perfect in his evil that he remained undetected, for all of those instances, even with other adults in the room. It's so incredibly sickening.
Today, after over 160 victim impact statements had been read over the past week, after hours upon hours upon hours of confrontation, liberation, tears, healing, anger, and old wounds reopened, the judge sentenced Dr. Larry Nassar to up to 175 years in prison. This is in addition to the 60 years he is already serving. He will never see the light of day, ever again, in his pathetic feeble existence.
I believe this case is truly a precedent. We are finally on our way to end this fight that women perpetually fight on a daily basis. We are not objects that belong to men. We are not avenues of control for you to travel down. We are not your toys, we are not your dolls, we are not anything of yours. We belong to ourselves.
I fought my own fight about 10 years ago (give or take,) during my first marriage (not to Phil.) I have never, ever published my story in any kind of public setting. I've held on to it for all this time, only telling the necessary people, so that I could feel some reprieve from the pressure on my heart.
I was violated. My husband at the time's grandfather put his hands on me. See, I never knew any of my biological grandparents. This was the closest to a grandfather figure that I ever had, and he screwed it up.
I will never forget what I was wearing: a t-shirt I got from a Billy Joel concert, a jacket, and jeans. It was a nice spring day, and it was just him and me in the living room, just having a normal conversation. I think at one point, he had asked for a hug, because I got up, and went to give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. He was sitting in the recliner, so as I leaned over to hug him, I felt a pinch on my nipple. In all honesty, I didn't think much of it; I have always been chesty, so this could have been an instance of bad aim, or whatever. After I kissed him on the cheek, he held his embrace on me, and said, "Come on, now, give me a REAL kiss" and tried to stick his tongue down my throat. I IMMEDIATELY rose up, took a step backward, and said, "What?!" Then just like that, he stood up, walked toward me, put one hand up my shirt while the other one tried to go down my pants. I was absolutely horrified and pushed him off of me and again, said, "What are you DOING?!" I can't remember his exact response, but it was some stupid excuse about just wanting a hug or something. Right after that, he handed me a crisply-folded $100 bill and said, "I just want you to know that I'm so proud of you." I now realized that the pinch on my breast was not bad aim. That was the dirtiest, filthiest money I have ever touched in my whole entire life. I walked away, with the money in my pocket, because I couldn't do anything else with it. I immediately buttoned my jacket. I looked ridiculous, but I just needed to be covered up. I had to hide myself as much as I could.
A short time later, he was leaving, and asked me if I was okay. Still in shock and disbelief, I just gave quick nod, because other people were in the house by that time, so I couldn't let on that anything had happened.
The next day, I woke up so, so sad, and lost, with a veil of uncertainty covering my eyes. The only thing I could think to do was to grab my Bible, and take it with me to work that day. I still don't know why I was compelled to do that, but I did. It made me feel better, but I knew that wouldn't solve the problem. I decided to confide in my Mother-in-Law at the time and ask her advice. I told her the story, and even though I was visibly shaken and upset, her response was so unbelievable, that I still can't fathom it. She said, "Keep the money and enjoy it." KEEP. THE. MONEY. AND. ENJOY. IT.
I decided that Bryan needed to know, as well. So, when I got home, I sat him down, and told him everything that happened. He didn't believe me. My own freaking husband didn't believe me when I told him that his grandfather had put his hands on me. It wasn't until I pulled out the $100 bill and threw it at him that he opened his eyes. But, it didn't stop there. He instantly reacted with, "Well, just don't tell anyone, because they won't believe you, anyway. My granny definitely won't believe you, and you can't ruin his reputation in church by letting this get out."
Now, is it becoming clear why assaulted women don't speak up? Because the victims become the criminals. Because the victims are ostracized and scrutinized and made to feel at fault. Because they are ashamed and embarrassed because of how people will perceive and treat them. Because "oh, they (the abuser) would never do that." Because nobody believes us, because we "must be confused" or "we misunderstood" or "it was an accident" or "we didn't say 'no'" or whatever. SILENCE IS NOT A "YES."
You know, there is so much to say, but nothing else to say about this. After hearing other stories of abuse against my friends, and after hearing some segments of Dr. Nassar's victims' impact statements, and hearing about what they endured, I originally thought that the gravity of my incident was not nearly as severe as the others. In my mind, I could have suffered worse. But then I realized that abuse is abuse. Inaction is enabling. One of the women who delivered an impact statement said, "What good does it do to teach our children to tell an adult when that adult does nothing?"
I hope and pray that the young girls in my life never, ever have to endure anything like this at all. I also hope and pray that any girls or women who have endured something like this find the courage and strength to speak up and take the control of their lives back. Ladies, speak up. Take action. You are not alone.
I've been following the case of Dr. Larry Nassar, the former Sports Medicine doctor at Michigan State University. He's the doctor who was accused of sexually abusing hundreds of female athletes at the university, who has already been sentenced to 60 years in prison for Federal Child Pornography charges, who has pled guilty to the sexual abuse of 7 girls/women. There are accusations of protection up the chain, from Nassar's colleagues, to the Athletic Director, to the President of the university. The survivors testified in their impact statements that he was reported, yet nothing was done. According to one girl, "we must have been confused." That was one of the responses to the original reports years ago. This doctor was sneaky, conniving, manipulative, devious...you name it. Even the judge said she couldn't say any more words to describe him.
He abused these girls with their parents in the exam room. Now, just think about what kind of person it takes to be that bold. To take that kind of risk. To have to be so perfect in his evil that he remained undetected, for all of those instances, even with other adults in the room. It's so incredibly sickening.
Today, after over 160 victim impact statements had been read over the past week, after hours upon hours upon hours of confrontation, liberation, tears, healing, anger, and old wounds reopened, the judge sentenced Dr. Larry Nassar to up to 175 years in prison. This is in addition to the 60 years he is already serving. He will never see the light of day, ever again, in his pathetic feeble existence.
I believe this case is truly a precedent. We are finally on our way to end this fight that women perpetually fight on a daily basis. We are not objects that belong to men. We are not avenues of control for you to travel down. We are not your toys, we are not your dolls, we are not anything of yours. We belong to ourselves.
I fought my own fight about 10 years ago (give or take,) during my first marriage (not to Phil.) I have never, ever published my story in any kind of public setting. I've held on to it for all this time, only telling the necessary people, so that I could feel some reprieve from the pressure on my heart.
I was violated. My husband at the time's grandfather put his hands on me. See, I never knew any of my biological grandparents. This was the closest to a grandfather figure that I ever had, and he screwed it up.
I will never forget what I was wearing: a t-shirt I got from a Billy Joel concert, a jacket, and jeans. It was a nice spring day, and it was just him and me in the living room, just having a normal conversation. I think at one point, he had asked for a hug, because I got up, and went to give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. He was sitting in the recliner, so as I leaned over to hug him, I felt a pinch on my nipple. In all honesty, I didn't think much of it; I have always been chesty, so this could have been an instance of bad aim, or whatever. After I kissed him on the cheek, he held his embrace on me, and said, "Come on, now, give me a REAL kiss" and tried to stick his tongue down my throat. I IMMEDIATELY rose up, took a step backward, and said, "What?!" Then just like that, he stood up, walked toward me, put one hand up my shirt while the other one tried to go down my pants. I was absolutely horrified and pushed him off of me and again, said, "What are you DOING?!" I can't remember his exact response, but it was some stupid excuse about just wanting a hug or something. Right after that, he handed me a crisply-folded $100 bill and said, "I just want you to know that I'm so proud of you." I now realized that the pinch on my breast was not bad aim. That was the dirtiest, filthiest money I have ever touched in my whole entire life. I walked away, with the money in my pocket, because I couldn't do anything else with it. I immediately buttoned my jacket. I looked ridiculous, but I just needed to be covered up. I had to hide myself as much as I could.
A short time later, he was leaving, and asked me if I was okay. Still in shock and disbelief, I just gave quick nod, because other people were in the house by that time, so I couldn't let on that anything had happened.
The next day, I woke up so, so sad, and lost, with a veil of uncertainty covering my eyes. The only thing I could think to do was to grab my Bible, and take it with me to work that day. I still don't know why I was compelled to do that, but I did. It made me feel better, but I knew that wouldn't solve the problem. I decided to confide in my Mother-in-Law at the time and ask her advice. I told her the story, and even though I was visibly shaken and upset, her response was so unbelievable, that I still can't fathom it. She said, "Keep the money and enjoy it." KEEP. THE. MONEY. AND. ENJOY. IT.
I decided that Bryan needed to know, as well. So, when I got home, I sat him down, and told him everything that happened. He didn't believe me. My own freaking husband didn't believe me when I told him that his grandfather had put his hands on me. It wasn't until I pulled out the $100 bill and threw it at him that he opened his eyes. But, it didn't stop there. He instantly reacted with, "Well, just don't tell anyone, because they won't believe you, anyway. My granny definitely won't believe you, and you can't ruin his reputation in church by letting this get out."
Now, is it becoming clear why assaulted women don't speak up? Because the victims become the criminals. Because the victims are ostracized and scrutinized and made to feel at fault. Because they are ashamed and embarrassed because of how people will perceive and treat them. Because "oh, they (the abuser) would never do that." Because nobody believes us, because we "must be confused" or "we misunderstood" or "it was an accident" or "we didn't say 'no'" or whatever. SILENCE IS NOT A "YES."
You know, there is so much to say, but nothing else to say about this. After hearing other stories of abuse against my friends, and after hearing some segments of Dr. Nassar's victims' impact statements, and hearing about what they endured, I originally thought that the gravity of my incident was not nearly as severe as the others. In my mind, I could have suffered worse. But then I realized that abuse is abuse. Inaction is enabling. One of the women who delivered an impact statement said, "What good does it do to teach our children to tell an adult when that adult does nothing?"
I hope and pray that the young girls in my life never, ever have to endure anything like this at all. I also hope and pray that any girls or women who have endured something like this find the courage and strength to speak up and take the control of their lives back. Ladies, speak up. Take action. You are not alone.
Tuesday, January 9, 2018
Why is Aunt Flo So Mean?
Here I am, getting ready to start some homework, waiting for Phil to get home, listening to the dogs whine and pine for me to move to the couch from the recliner, watching Judge Judy, sippin' on ACV & juice, thinking of some good thoughts to share with you good people.
Listen, running, or working out in general, whilst on your period is hard work. Sorry, fellas. But it is. Your body consumes all of your energy and channels it to power a tiny organ with two antennae, wreaking havoc on your lower abdominals. We are tired, we are constantly starving, we are bloated, and we are grumpy. I was supposed to run 3 miles today. HAHAHAHAHAHAA yeah right. I only made it for 2.5. You know what I ate today? For breakfast, did I have that awesome Dannon 000 Black Cherry yogurt? Nope. I had a doughnut with my coffee. For lunch, did I have that beautiful vegetable soup (which is DELICIOUS, by the way) and honey cornbread that I took to work? Nooooope. My uterus wanted Chick-Fil-A. So I got an 8-count nugget meal, with a large fry, and a large sweet tea (which was mostly ice, but whatever.) But wait, there's more...I have a cow calendar, and the treat for the month is an 8-count nugget. So guess what I got? MY FREE TREAT, DUH. Guess who was hungry - AGAIN - at 2:00? Yep, you guessed it. My uterus. Lucky for me, I had snacks in the fridge at work, so I ate some cheese. When I got home at 4:30, my stomach was growling again. GEEZ, UTERUS, WHAT ELSE DO YOU WANT?! I ate a pickle for an electrolyte boost, I doused myself in some Clarity oil because I needed to get my head on straight, and I took off for my run.
I actually crossed paths with a couple other runners because this massive heat wave is bringing us all outside! Yay! There's one lady I see frequently, and she has a white fuzzy dog (a miniature poodle, I think.) Every time I see her, I wave and smile, because I'm friendly like that, and she ALWAYS makes some weird comment from the perspective of her dog. Something like, "oh, I just like to say hi to everyone I see." Or "I just assume people who walk by me always want to pet me and play with me." Where's that eyeroll emoji when you need it? Come on, lady, can't you see I'm busy? Sure, I love dogs, but I'M BUSY. I work hard to run continuously, because it's hard to run continuously, and I don't want to stop and pet your dog. I have a schedule to keep. Sorry. (Not sorry.) But, sorry.
There are some characters in the surrounding neighborhood - engaging in what I'm sure are completely wholesome, pure, and legal activities. They just like to hang out with their friends, amirite? Don't worry, folks, I won't tell anybody you were congregating and whispering outside, glaring at me while I was struggling to walk up the massive hill you were at the top of, and you stopped talking the second I reached you, and one of you moved toward the house, and the old man in the truck watched to make sure I didn't look like I knew you were acting suspiciously. IT'S ALL GOOD, I PROMISE. Your secret is safe with me. A-okay?
Awesome, so, aunt flo is mean. I'm resetting myself with a really awesome ACV drink - tea, ACV, ginger, stevia, and Bai. Yummmmmmmmmmmmmmm. And I'll probably be having steamed broccoli and air for dinner because, you know, nuggets.
Also, one more random thought. I rented my textbooks from Chegg this time, and they sent me some free samples of stuff, which is cool, right? One of the samples is a container of those new Quaker Overnight Oats. Really cool, right? I read the directions on how to make them, and it says to eat them cold. HUH? Who eats cold oatmeal?
Okay, cool. See ya.
Listen, running, or working out in general, whilst on your period is hard work. Sorry, fellas. But it is. Your body consumes all of your energy and channels it to power a tiny organ with two antennae, wreaking havoc on your lower abdominals. We are tired, we are constantly starving, we are bloated, and we are grumpy. I was supposed to run 3 miles today. HAHAHAHAHAHAA yeah right. I only made it for 2.5. You know what I ate today? For breakfast, did I have that awesome Dannon 000 Black Cherry yogurt? Nope. I had a doughnut with my coffee. For lunch, did I have that beautiful vegetable soup (which is DELICIOUS, by the way) and honey cornbread that I took to work? Nooooope. My uterus wanted Chick-Fil-A. So I got an 8-count nugget meal, with a large fry, and a large sweet tea (which was mostly ice, but whatever.) But wait, there's more...I have a cow calendar, and the treat for the month is an 8-count nugget. So guess what I got? MY FREE TREAT, DUH. Guess who was hungry - AGAIN - at 2:00? Yep, you guessed it. My uterus. Lucky for me, I had snacks in the fridge at work, so I ate some cheese. When I got home at 4:30, my stomach was growling again. GEEZ, UTERUS, WHAT ELSE DO YOU WANT?! I ate a pickle for an electrolyte boost, I doused myself in some Clarity oil because I needed to get my head on straight, and I took off for my run.
I actually crossed paths with a couple other runners because this massive heat wave is bringing us all outside! Yay! There's one lady I see frequently, and she has a white fuzzy dog (a miniature poodle, I think.) Every time I see her, I wave and smile, because I'm friendly like that, and she ALWAYS makes some weird comment from the perspective of her dog. Something like, "oh, I just like to say hi to everyone I see." Or "I just assume people who walk by me always want to pet me and play with me." Where's that eyeroll emoji when you need it? Come on, lady, can't you see I'm busy? Sure, I love dogs, but I'M BUSY. I work hard to run continuously, because it's hard to run continuously, and I don't want to stop and pet your dog. I have a schedule to keep. Sorry. (Not sorry.) But, sorry.
There are some characters in the surrounding neighborhood - engaging in what I'm sure are completely wholesome, pure, and legal activities. They just like to hang out with their friends, amirite? Don't worry, folks, I won't tell anybody you were congregating and whispering outside, glaring at me while I was struggling to walk up the massive hill you were at the top of, and you stopped talking the second I reached you, and one of you moved toward the house, and the old man in the truck watched to make sure I didn't look like I knew you were acting suspiciously. IT'S ALL GOOD, I PROMISE. Your secret is safe with me. A-okay?
Awesome, so, aunt flo is mean. I'm resetting myself with a really awesome ACV drink - tea, ACV, ginger, stevia, and Bai. Yummmmmmmmmmmmmmm. And I'll probably be having steamed broccoli and air for dinner because, you know, nuggets.
Also, one more random thought. I rented my textbooks from Chegg this time, and they sent me some free samples of stuff, which is cool, right? One of the samples is a container of those new Quaker Overnight Oats. Really cool, right? I read the directions on how to make them, and it says to eat them cold. HUH? Who eats cold oatmeal?
Okay, cool. See ya.
Friday, December 29, 2017
New Year, Same Old Me
Alright, so I'm a liar. I never finished my review of the 98 Degrees Christmas concert, and here it is, a million days later, and I've left you hanging. Well, to offer you some reprieve, here is how far I got before I never finished:
I haven't had a chance to write about the 98 Degrees Christmas Concert. It was at the Palace, so I expected a nice, sophisticated, intimate concert. Um, nope. People were all sorts of crazy - Christmas garb, big wrapping bows on their heads, Christmas footie pajamas, ugly sweaters, tinsel, big posters and signs...it was definitely a boy band atmosphere.
The guys looked awesome and started the concert wearing slacks and these cool velvet blazers. Tres chic. (Sorry, I don't know how to make the French accent mark on a computer.) They opened with some pop Christmas cover songs, and segued to "Because of You." Um, we LOST. OUR. MINDS. Seriously, lost it. Like, I forgot I was at the Palace for a second.
Blah blah they sing more...they went to "O Holy Night," and that was AWESOME, but the loud drunk people behind us would not shut up. It was so dang annoying. Listen, I'm no saint, and I've had a few nights of too many libations, but why would you pay all that money for a concert just to get drunk and ruin the experience?
Anyway...the guys did their typical boy band stuff. They stepped in rhythm, swirling and twirling around their microphones, pointing to the big spenders in the front row, and danced in synchronicity. I think mom said it was "deliberately corny," which was perfectly accurate. They didn't take themselves too seriously, and it was FANTASTIC.
Does that help? I actually did take notes on my phone during the entire concert, in an effort to remember everything worth noting so I could indulge you with vibrant imagery and make you wish you had been there. I will say that the next time I go to a concert at the Palace, I will either pay the big bucks to sit in the front row, or spend as little as possible to get a seat in the balcony, just so I can see everything that's going on.
Alright, kids, how was your holiday season, aka Christmas? Mine was pretty good, other than that demonic spawn known as Flu type A having inhabited my body for nearly 3 weeks. Well, I didn't KNOW it was the flu until I went to Immediate Care on the 26th. It probably wasn't the flu the whole time. But maybe. Who knows. I never had a fever, aches, or chills. Ever. But, the point is I'm like, 87% better today. I can't wait to get back to running and stuff...I have a schedule to keep, you know. I paid that hefty race fee, so I need to stay on top of this thing called training.
I guess it's only appropriate that I throw in a few words about 2018 and reflection and yadda yadda. You know what? 2017 was awesome for some of you, and it was not-so-awesome for some of you. I think there was a good mix of good and bad for us, but it's always nice to have the feeling of impending hope from something new coming up.
I hate the term "resolution," because it has such a connotation of constraint. You already know when you set your New Year's Resolutions that you will break them, and you're just playing a game with yourself. It's really an exhausting waste of time. I'm a fan of being in the present. January 1st does not have to mean that you have to begin something unrealistically new for yourself, just for the sake of it being January 1st. Today is December 29th. If you decide you want to swap your candy addiction for fruit, then walk to your kitchen, and all of your hiding places, throw out your candy, and go to the store to buy fruit. Walmart is open 24 hours. So is Kroger. So is Meijer. If you want to start journaling, go right now and find an empty notebook (you know you have 100 of them), and start journaling. Or go to a free blogging site and sign up for a free blank blog. If you need a topic, go to Pinterest and search "topics for journaling." You'll get about 1,000 to pick from, I swear. If you want to learn how to work out, then set your alarm for 8:00 tomorrow morning, because it's a Saturday, and go somewhere to learn how to workout. Phone a friend. It's much more fun with a friend.
If you want to start doing something, then start doing it when you decide you want to start doing it. Don't wait for the excuse of putting up a new calendar. I read a great quote a few weeks ago that said something like this: You don't need motivation, you need discipline. Motivation is just the wanting. Discipline is the doing. Need help figuring out how to start whatever it is you want to start? CALL ME. Message me. Text me. I don't care. I'll help you.
2018 will be here in just over 48 hours. You don't have to flip your life upside down for it. Just never stop trying to be better.
I haven't had a chance to write about the 98 Degrees Christmas Concert. It was at the Palace, so I expected a nice, sophisticated, intimate concert. Um, nope. People were all sorts of crazy - Christmas garb, big wrapping bows on their heads, Christmas footie pajamas, ugly sweaters, tinsel, big posters and signs...it was definitely a boy band atmosphere.
The guys looked awesome and started the concert wearing slacks and these cool velvet blazers. Tres chic. (Sorry, I don't know how to make the French accent mark on a computer.) They opened with some pop Christmas cover songs, and segued to "Because of You." Um, we LOST. OUR. MINDS. Seriously, lost it. Like, I forgot I was at the Palace for a second.
Blah blah they sing more...they went to "O Holy Night," and that was AWESOME, but the loud drunk people behind us would not shut up. It was so dang annoying. Listen, I'm no saint, and I've had a few nights of too many libations, but why would you pay all that money for a concert just to get drunk and ruin the experience?
Anyway...the guys did their typical boy band stuff. They stepped in rhythm, swirling and twirling around their microphones, pointing to the big spenders in the front row, and danced in synchronicity. I think mom said it was "deliberately corny," which was perfectly accurate. They didn't take themselves too seriously, and it was FANTASTIC.
Does that help? I actually did take notes on my phone during the entire concert, in an effort to remember everything worth noting so I could indulge you with vibrant imagery and make you wish you had been there. I will say that the next time I go to a concert at the Palace, I will either pay the big bucks to sit in the front row, or spend as little as possible to get a seat in the balcony, just so I can see everything that's going on.
Alright, kids, how was your holiday season, aka Christmas? Mine was pretty good, other than that demonic spawn known as Flu type A having inhabited my body for nearly 3 weeks. Well, I didn't KNOW it was the flu until I went to Immediate Care on the 26th. It probably wasn't the flu the whole time. But maybe. Who knows. I never had a fever, aches, or chills. Ever. But, the point is I'm like, 87% better today. I can't wait to get back to running and stuff...I have a schedule to keep, you know. I paid that hefty race fee, so I need to stay on top of this thing called training.
I guess it's only appropriate that I throw in a few words about 2018 and reflection and yadda yadda. You know what? 2017 was awesome for some of you, and it was not-so-awesome for some of you. I think there was a good mix of good and bad for us, but it's always nice to have the feeling of impending hope from something new coming up.
I hate the term "resolution," because it has such a connotation of constraint. You already know when you set your New Year's Resolutions that you will break them, and you're just playing a game with yourself. It's really an exhausting waste of time. I'm a fan of being in the present. January 1st does not have to mean that you have to begin something unrealistically new for yourself, just for the sake of it being January 1st. Today is December 29th. If you decide you want to swap your candy addiction for fruit, then walk to your kitchen, and all of your hiding places, throw out your candy, and go to the store to buy fruit. Walmart is open 24 hours. So is Kroger. So is Meijer. If you want to start journaling, go right now and find an empty notebook (you know you have 100 of them), and start journaling. Or go to a free blogging site and sign up for a free blank blog. If you need a topic, go to Pinterest and search "topics for journaling." You'll get about 1,000 to pick from, I swear. If you want to learn how to work out, then set your alarm for 8:00 tomorrow morning, because it's a Saturday, and go somewhere to learn how to workout. Phone a friend. It's much more fun with a friend.
If you want to start doing something, then start doing it when you decide you want to start doing it. Don't wait for the excuse of putting up a new calendar. I read a great quote a few weeks ago that said something like this: You don't need motivation, you need discipline. Motivation is just the wanting. Discipline is the doing. Need help figuring out how to start whatever it is you want to start? CALL ME. Message me. Text me. I don't care. I'll help you.
2018 will be here in just over 48 hours. You don't have to flip your life upside down for it. Just never stop trying to be better.
Wednesday, December 13, 2017
Wrapped Up
Well, I just submitted my last assignments for my first quarter of my Masters Degree program. It feels awesome to be done for a few weeks! Okay...on to more important things.
I can't even begin to talk about all the crappy things going on in our world. Fires are destroying California, it's snowing in the deep south, people are shooting each other all over the place, people are touching people they have no business touching and acting like they have a right to do so, corruption is rampant...goodness, does it ever stop? I'm afraid not. But I can explore those things another time.
I started to include my review of the 98 Degrees Christmas concert, but it was getting too long to share with my thoughts for this post, so it will be published separately, probably tomorrow.
The Christmas Spirit continues to fall upon me. I'm sending letters and cards and spending all kinds of money, and trying to make sure I spend time with everyone I can.
Also, another big announcement: I'm probably crazy, but I have decided to run the Derby Mini Marathon in April. AAAAAAAAHHHHHH what am I thinking?! Several people have faith in me, but I'm working on building that faith in myself. I've had a case of the sicklies the past few days, so my training has been thrown off, but I have extra weeks built in, so I am crossing my fingers I can progress in time. I have something like 20 weeks left. So, cross your fingers and toes for me!
OKAY:
WE. NEED. TO. TALK. ABOUT. THE. WALKING. DEAD.
So stop reading if you're not caught. And if you're a fan and you're not caught up by now, then you're not a fan and shame on you.
.
.
.
.
.
COOOOOOORAALLL!!!!!!!!!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!
Okay, so, my first thought was "OMG WHAT THE HECK?" Then, I started thinking about the show, and reasons and patterns and rationales and WHY and death histories and montages and flashbacks and stories and WHYYYY. My thought shifted to "Maybe it's not a walker bite." Because we didn't see jack squat happen! Like, he tugs at Negan's heart strings for a minute, darts, runs around and almost gets exploded on, then shows up with a walker bite? Um, I refuse to accept this, AMC.
Then on Talking Dead, Chris Hardwick was all sentimental about Coooral, and I thought he got teary-eyed for a second. The executive producer of the show was all emotional, too. Then I read some stuff on Twitter, and read Chandler's interview on the AMC blog, and I got all emotional right along with them all!!!!!! I even Tweeted Chandler, AMC, and Chris Hardwick: "Please tell me this is a big joke and it's not a walker bite." They have yet to reply. Whatevs. I'm an inquiring mind. I need to know.
But, seriously....COOOORAL?????? Why couldn't it be Carol? Or Michonne? Or Ezekiel? Or FREAKING GREGORY? Gregory has outlived Carl. What a crock-o-poo.
I can't even begin to talk about all the crappy things going on in our world. Fires are destroying California, it's snowing in the deep south, people are shooting each other all over the place, people are touching people they have no business touching and acting like they have a right to do so, corruption is rampant...goodness, does it ever stop? I'm afraid not. But I can explore those things another time.
I started to include my review of the 98 Degrees Christmas concert, but it was getting too long to share with my thoughts for this post, so it will be published separately, probably tomorrow.
The Christmas Spirit continues to fall upon me. I'm sending letters and cards and spending all kinds of money, and trying to make sure I spend time with everyone I can.
Also, another big announcement: I'm probably crazy, but I have decided to run the Derby Mini Marathon in April. AAAAAAAAHHHHHH what am I thinking?! Several people have faith in me, but I'm working on building that faith in myself. I've had a case of the sicklies the past few days, so my training has been thrown off, but I have extra weeks built in, so I am crossing my fingers I can progress in time. I have something like 20 weeks left. So, cross your fingers and toes for me!
OKAY:
WE. NEED. TO. TALK. ABOUT. THE. WALKING. DEAD.
So stop reading if you're not caught. And if you're a fan and you're not caught up by now, then you're not a fan and shame on you.
.
.
.
.
.
COOOOOOORAALLL!!!!!!!!!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!
Okay, so, my first thought was "OMG WHAT THE HECK?" Then, I started thinking about the show, and reasons and patterns and rationales and WHY and death histories and montages and flashbacks and stories and WHYYYY. My thought shifted to "Maybe it's not a walker bite." Because we didn't see jack squat happen! Like, he tugs at Negan's heart strings for a minute, darts, runs around and almost gets exploded on, then shows up with a walker bite? Um, I refuse to accept this, AMC.
Then on Talking Dead, Chris Hardwick was all sentimental about Coooral, and I thought he got teary-eyed for a second. The executive producer of the show was all emotional, too. Then I read some stuff on Twitter, and read Chandler's interview on the AMC blog, and I got all emotional right along with them all!!!!!! I even Tweeted Chandler, AMC, and Chris Hardwick: "Please tell me this is a big joke and it's not a walker bite." They have yet to reply. Whatevs. I'm an inquiring mind. I need to know.
But, seriously....COOOORAL?????? Why couldn't it be Carol? Or Michonne? Or Ezekiel? Or FREAKING GREGORY? Gregory has outlived Carl. What a crock-o-poo.
Sunday, December 3, 2017
Christmas Hodge Podge
I'm a little short on snark tonight. My Christmas spirit is coming back slowly, but surely. While the
stresses of life have not eased up on me, my ability to cope and
redirect have been refined, and I'm able to find space in my heart for the joy of
the season.
While I was finishing my homework tonight, I've been watching the Jim Carrey version of How the Grinch Stole Christmas - really just to kill time until "The Walking Dead" comes on (hey, priorities, people!) The part where he goes on his tangent about the presents really kind of hit me. A lot of people say that Christmas has become this materialistic holiday, where people only care about the presents. I think that's only true to a degree. I think people do get caught up in the gifts, but for the feeling of giving, not so much for the item itself. Sure, we give ourselves a set of standards that we feel we should live up to in terms of gift awesomeness, but really, the gift itself doesn't matter if it's heartfelt.
I have been contemplating the idea of a little Christmas party, because I just love the idea of gathering and eating and laughing and all sorts of fun stuff. I'd love to have all of you together to play Dirty Santa or White Elephant, eat some awesome food, and dance or play games, or whatever. I also thought of a fun cookie exchange. My problem is it's already December 3rd. Is there still even time to put something together?
Nonetheless, my tree is only half-decorated, and I don't even have a stocking for myself. The Stuart Christmas card has not been designed, and I'm way behind on my gift list. Christmas movies on tv are fewer and farther between than they were when I was a kid, and I'm upset that Netflix doesn't have a holiday category with classic holiday films anymore (unless I'm blind and missed it.) I got through Halloween and realized I hadn't watched Hocus Pocus once during October. Shame. I also saw it playing on tv today - come on, Disney. It's December. This mixing up holidays is giving me anxiety.
I'm not to a point where I can listen to 106.9 24/7, because even Christmas songs get recycled too much, but if I'm in someone else's car or hear it on someone else's radio, I don't make them change it. I don't have any hot chocolate or peppermint candy canes in the house, but that will change asap.
Let's have a great holiday season. Live, love, laugh, and GIVE. And most importantly, continue the living, and the loving, and the laughing, and the giving all year. People need things during the other 11 months of the year, too.
While I was finishing my homework tonight, I've been watching the Jim Carrey version of How the Grinch Stole Christmas - really just to kill time until "The Walking Dead" comes on (hey, priorities, people!) The part where he goes on his tangent about the presents really kind of hit me. A lot of people say that Christmas has become this materialistic holiday, where people only care about the presents. I think that's only true to a degree. I think people do get caught up in the gifts, but for the feeling of giving, not so much for the item itself. Sure, we give ourselves a set of standards that we feel we should live up to in terms of gift awesomeness, but really, the gift itself doesn't matter if it's heartfelt.
I have been contemplating the idea of a little Christmas party, because I just love the idea of gathering and eating and laughing and all sorts of fun stuff. I'd love to have all of you together to play Dirty Santa or White Elephant, eat some awesome food, and dance or play games, or whatever. I also thought of a fun cookie exchange. My problem is it's already December 3rd. Is there still even time to put something together?
Nonetheless, my tree is only half-decorated, and I don't even have a stocking for myself. The Stuart Christmas card has not been designed, and I'm way behind on my gift list. Christmas movies on tv are fewer and farther between than they were when I was a kid, and I'm upset that Netflix doesn't have a holiday category with classic holiday films anymore (unless I'm blind and missed it.) I got through Halloween and realized I hadn't watched Hocus Pocus once during October. Shame. I also saw it playing on tv today - come on, Disney. It's December. This mixing up holidays is giving me anxiety.
I'm not to a point where I can listen to 106.9 24/7, because even Christmas songs get recycled too much, but if I'm in someone else's car or hear it on someone else's radio, I don't make them change it. I don't have any hot chocolate or peppermint candy canes in the house, but that will change asap.
Let's have a great holiday season. Live, love, laugh, and GIVE. And most importantly, continue the living, and the loving, and the laughing, and the giving all year. People need things during the other 11 months of the year, too.
Monday, November 27, 2017
Hey, Look - Two in a Row
Wow, this is some kind of record, isn't it? Two in a row! That's worth a toast, but I'm already so dang tired that just taking a whiff of that beautiful Pop's Reserve would knock me out. That reminds me - I still owe my brother money.
I had a weird day at work, and I gave myself a paper cut with foil cooking dinner (only me), and my dogs' schedule is so messed up and they won't.stop.whining. I went for a run after work with my neighbor friend, and we ran a trail through McNeely Lake and back up the hills to the road and I'm basically dead now. I drank a bottle of Coke earlier (judge me, I dare you!) Then it was grad school homework, which I will just have to pick back up tomorrow night, because my brain is at capacity.
Moving on...if you haven't seen last night's episode of The Walking Dead, then STOP READING. I usually don't give warnings, so consider this as me being fair.
Okay...I need to talk about a few things. First of all, SNOOZEFEST. Gosh, can't we get some more action up in here? Blah blah blah, Carl feeds weird hyper stranger that we thought he already did weeks ago...Aaron misses his dead boyfriend - got it....Michonne and Rosita are trying to get their already-injured selves killed...Maggie gets the MVP award for the night, because Gregory SUCKS....Daryl is his normal awesome hot self....and so LET'S TALK ABOUT EZEKIEL AND CAROL.
Ezekiel is still pouting over the unjustified loss of his beloved Shiva. Seriously - if you think her death wasn't stupid and in vain, then you need to re-evaluate your life. That beautifully constructed CGI tiger was way stronger and way more agile than those stupid radioactive creek walkers. She deserved a better death, and while I actually cried at this one, and it gave me all the feels like when Andy and Red find each other again at the end of Shawshank Redemption, it was still dumb and unwarranted. We never even learned her purpose, for cryin' out loud. Died protecting her king? Ehhhhhhh sure. Whatever. But, I digress...
Ezekiel is pouting in the corner, finally realizing that he needs to drop the façade and be himself. Jerry is blocking the door for him, not even letting the Prodigal Carol inside. THE DOOR WAS UNLOCKED THE WHOLE TIME. Like, how much more dramatic can you be, Ezekiel? What are you, 5? Did someone take away your toy and you're hiding in plain sight now, throwing a fit and really wanting attention but pretending you don't? Then Mother Carol comes and coddles you and you still have your lip stuck out and huff and puff as she walks away. Suck it up, buttercup.
In other news, I read on Twitter today that Morgan is officially the crossover character into Fear the Walking Dead. I have not watched FTWD since Season 1, so I'm out of the loop here - but WHY MORGAN? I actually like the guy, now that he got his head on straight. Why couldn't it be Carol? Forrealz, though.
In honor of Motivational Monday, I leave you with this Demotivational poster from despair.com. I feel as though it sums up the utter failure of the Kingdom's crew in fighting the Saviors.
I had a weird day at work, and I gave myself a paper cut with foil cooking dinner (only me), and my dogs' schedule is so messed up and they won't.stop.whining. I went for a run after work with my neighbor friend, and we ran a trail through McNeely Lake and back up the hills to the road and I'm basically dead now. I drank a bottle of Coke earlier (judge me, I dare you!) Then it was grad school homework, which I will just have to pick back up tomorrow night, because my brain is at capacity.
Moving on...if you haven't seen last night's episode of The Walking Dead, then STOP READING. I usually don't give warnings, so consider this as me being fair.
Okay...I need to talk about a few things. First of all, SNOOZEFEST. Gosh, can't we get some more action up in here? Blah blah blah, Carl feeds weird hyper stranger that we thought he already did weeks ago...Aaron misses his dead boyfriend - got it....Michonne and Rosita are trying to get their already-injured selves killed...Maggie gets the MVP award for the night, because Gregory SUCKS....Daryl is his normal awesome hot self....and so LET'S TALK ABOUT EZEKIEL AND CAROL.
Ezekiel is still pouting over the unjustified loss of his beloved Shiva. Seriously - if you think her death wasn't stupid and in vain, then you need to re-evaluate your life. That beautifully constructed CGI tiger was way stronger and way more agile than those stupid radioactive creek walkers. She deserved a better death, and while I actually cried at this one, and it gave me all the feels like when Andy and Red find each other again at the end of Shawshank Redemption, it was still dumb and unwarranted. We never even learned her purpose, for cryin' out loud. Died protecting her king? Ehhhhhhh sure. Whatever. But, I digress...
Ezekiel is pouting in the corner, finally realizing that he needs to drop the façade and be himself. Jerry is blocking the door for him, not even letting the Prodigal Carol inside. THE DOOR WAS UNLOCKED THE WHOLE TIME. Like, how much more dramatic can you be, Ezekiel? What are you, 5? Did someone take away your toy and you're hiding in plain sight now, throwing a fit and really wanting attention but pretending you don't? Then Mother Carol comes and coddles you and you still have your lip stuck out and huff and puff as she walks away. Suck it up, buttercup.
In other news, I read on Twitter today that Morgan is officially the crossover character into Fear the Walking Dead. I have not watched FTWD since Season 1, so I'm out of the loop here - but WHY MORGAN? I actually like the guy, now that he got his head on straight. Why couldn't it be Carol? Forrealz, though.
In honor of Motivational Monday, I leave you with this Demotivational poster from despair.com. I feel as though it sums up the utter failure of the Kingdom's crew in fighting the Saviors.
And now I have to go watch my champion, Roman Reigns, beat the crap out of some loser who wants to challenge him.
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