Waiting

One of the hardest things in life is waiting. I feel like I've done my fair share of that. Some of the things that I've waited for have come quickly, others have not. Lately I feel like what I am really waiting for is answers. And that can feel like a burden.

But today I read something that made me step back for a moment. Even burdens can be blessings. That isn't exactly what I read. But that is what I thought...even burdens can be blessings. And as such, I should be grateful.

So what does this lovely little house have to do with waiting. Well, I thought of it last night, and I thought of it today. Let me explain.

I'm sort of in love with Alexandria, Virginia. And one day, about two years ago, I went for a walk in my old stomping grounds. There is a neighborhood in Alexandria filled with delightful homes like the one you see above. And when I happened by this house two years ago, it was for sale. I wanted it the moment I laid eyes on it. I just knew.

But I was in law school then, and I had no money to speak of.

Two years have come and gone and who knows if it is still on the market. In this economy and with that housing market, well, let's just say that anything is possible.

I'm not sure it's availability is my point, however. My point is, I've had to wait. I've had to wait to see what the job market would turn up for me. I'm still waiting to see how this will all play out. I've had to wait to buy a car. I'm going to continue to wait to buy a home.

But what if this waiting leads me to this dream house of mine? What if this waiting that is so hard actually means that in the end I won't just have a decent life or even a good life? What if it means my life will be extraordinary? What if it means that I get just what I want, just what was perfect and meant for my life? Sort of like the way I feel when I look at this house. I feel all East Coast fancy and such. I feel like going rowing (even though I don't know how) and taking up some trendy domestic activity, like baking macaroons and cupcakes and decorating with antiques and Restoration Hardware and heading off to ABC Carpet and Home.

And maybe that sounds silly, but I guess it's just what this house represents for me. As Elder Holland once spoke of, for me, it represents my land of milk and honey, my promised land. Wherever that may be, Alexandria, Rockwall, Newark, Las Vegas...or even little Spanish Fork. It doesn't have to be this house, although I hope in some crazy way that it is.

All I know is that if God asks me to wait, then I'm sure it won't be anything less than this perfect little cottage and thus worth waiting for.

Is That Legit What I Did?

Last night, I mean. Totally copping out on my daily writing assignment. I think it is. Some days, peeps, some days. You just don't feel like it!

I had a nice chat with two friends this weekend. Well, lots of nice chats. With lots of people. But these two chats were special. (It is sort of hard to take me seriously when I just used the word special, isn't it?)

But isn't it funny. I think it is funny. How one of those friends lifts you back up and puts your onto your feet. And then you turn around and pay it forward and find yourself repeating all the good advice and hope to the second friend. What a blessing friends are! That is how life should be.

Anyway, so here is my analogy. I feel like this, emotionally. It's about seven in the a.m., and I want to get up. But I can't. My lids feel heavy and my limbs feel sluggish and sticky, like molasses rolling slowly down a spoon. Everything is still and quiet. And I can't move. I just can't.

Everyday lately, I feel like I get up, and I lift my limbs from the bed and go running, or I read my scriptures, or I make some breakfast. I get on with my day. I try, I do. I go through motions. I never quite understood what that meant, going through those motions. But here is what it means to me.

It means a piece of me stayed behind. The part of me that emotionally copes stays tied to that bed. And that part does not get up. She does not stir or go anywhere. She lays there day after day and week after week. Until the months have piled up upon her. And everything gets heavier and heavier and she feels afraid and unable to move.

I do not know how to put her back together. I am afraid. I want her to come back to me. I want her to get up with me because I know what it is like when we are one. That is the girl who said I can back pack Europe. That is the girl who said I can move across the country without a job. Three times. That girl did a lot of things. She would. She is fearless and hopeful.

It is hard sometimes, just really hard. Especially hard to admit that you are broken. That you want that piece back, that piece of you that has been slowly worn down by time and circumstance until it has stayed behind because it is afraid. But I must. Oh how I must. Because friends, the show goes on. And I do not want to miss out anymore on that show.

Not Tonight

I'm hormonal. I want this to be a light fluffy post about kitty cats and rainbows. You know, your standard cutesy cuddly fare.

BUUUUUUT... I'm not sure I should write anything right at this moment. Because I'm trying to send out good karma into the universe and I'm not feeling very good-karma-ish. I'm just feeling bleck. Or blah. Or even grrrrrr.

So I'm not going to write. I'm not. I'm just going to say goodnight.

An Unexpected Sort of Life

What I expected when I was sixteen:
1. Go to BYU
2. Meet a nice, returned missionary
3. Date said missionary for six months to a year
4. Get married to said missionary
5. Graduate
6. Raise four children in a nice home in a suburb somewhere in Utah
7. Live happily ever after

What I got
1. Went to BYU
2. Met and dated plenty of returned missionaries, some nice, some not so nice
3. Never dated anyone more than two months
4. Still not married
5. Two degrees later...BA and JD
6. No kids to speak of, no house, and definitely not in Utah
7. Living...sometimes happily, sometimes not

The Unexpected Part:
You might be just like me. You might have expected one thing and then things turned out differently. I guess I just expected certain things because, well, everyone I knew had those things, and it still seems like that is the case. Imagine you were born in to a social order where everyone was married by thirty. And in that social order, everyone had a family. And most women you knew didn't work. That was around you all the time. How can you not expect that?

My life is entirely unexpected and sometimes I feel like I'm in a dream. And I'll wake up from the dream and I will be surrounded by a husband and children and I'll even maybe, but hopefully not, have a mini van. And I'll be busy arranging baby-sitters and play dates and PTA meetings.

And yet.

There is this part of me that can't even fathom waking up to that. I can't imagine it. I can't comprehend it. I can't even ever see it happening. Ever. Not in a faithless, woe is me sort of way. More in an alien life sort of way. Almost like waking up as a French woman living in Paris. Because I'm not French. You know?

It isn't to say life is bad or wrong. And really, I'm happy and I like my life. Most days.

It's just that its an unexpected life. So tell me this. What is unexpected about your life? Even if you have a husband and children and the white picket fence.

For the LOVE! (And Other Things I Like to Say)

So I think this was way back when, like in college or something. And some movie came out with some SNL alum. I think. (I am afraid my memory for anything that happened over five years ago is a wash.) Anyways, one of the lines included "For the love of all that is good and holy..." And I admit that maybe, just maybe, I'm misremembering that. But not the for the love part. That I do remember. And I couldn't stop saying it.

Have you noticed that? How some phrases just stick with you always and always. That was eons ago, and I still say "Ooooohhhhh, for the love!" when I get frustrated.

And there are other sundry phrases that I've picked up along the way. Like these:

1. "Your mom!" Whenever I don't have something clever to come back with...which is, admittedly, relatively often...this comes out of my mouth.
2. "I know, right?" Not sure when this happened, but I find myself saying it a lot lately. I sort of like it, though.
3. "What the what?" Thank you Tina Fey, thank you very much. I think that phrase is a fave.
4. "Let's be H." This is from my friend, Jamie Gibson Woods...and the H stands for honest. So when you want to be frank with someone, you say this phrase.
5. "What the H?" Now this is just a Mormon way of swearing. Don't want to say "what the &%^$?!!!"? Just say what the H.
6. "Are you dead serious?" Just an indication that I've been living with my sister-in-law, Leah.

I think it's funny how we pick up on words and phrases and adopt them and say them over and over. I think it is funny how spending time with someone gets you talking like them. And saying stuff they say. Or how pop culture sticks in your brain like that. People always say children are like sponges. But maybe adults are, too. Or maybe I am, anyway.

There is no real point to this post...sort of random like the last one. I sort of like that, though.

Think Like A Poet

I keep staring at the computer screen and all that will come to me? "Tiger, Tiger, burning bright..." And visions of Junior year at the BY are dancing through my head, and I cannot remember for the life of me the author of that poem or the professor's class I was sitting in when I first discovered it. Was it by William Blake, and wait, did he spell tiger like tyger? I remember some funky spelling somewhere. Or am I mixing up poems? Or was my professor named William Blake? (Haha, just kidding. He was not named William Blake. I'm not crazy. Just the random night time weariness as I sit here typing with my eyes closed and thinking about sleep.)

Anyway, so thinking like a poet. Poets are deep souls, or at least that is what we tell ourselves, and I feel like lately I've been a poet because I've been thinking all these deep thoughts and writing about said deep thoughts here. Right here in a public forum. And poets write for a public but no one reads poetry anymore. So they sit there in anthologies studied by English majors and then they go forgotten on some shelf. So that one day, said English major can try and try with all her might to remember what it was that she learned when she read that poem about a tyger that was burning bright. Do I even have the right words for that poem? I do not know! It's sort of distressing me right now.

And no one is reading my blog. I've not really been letting the word out about this little daily expression of my thoughts out there.

So I'm sort of like a poet in some ways myself.

Where was I going with all this? Oh yes, so deep thoughts.

So my deep thought today is thus: why is it so hard to change thinking patterns? I'm working really hard on positive karma and such. But I have some habitual bad thoughts.

1. I imagine some future scenario where I am trying to communicate with a person and it isn't going well, and I have to make them see why I am right. I think I do it because I'm anticipating a conversation I am going to have to have with someone at some point in time. And I'm feeling nervous about it. I'm worried that it won't go well, so I imagine the worse case scenario instead of trying to see it going just as I would like it to. It makes me feel like I'm one of "those" people who always anticipates the worst. YUCK! I don't want to do that.

2. I think unkind thoughts about my body. They pop into my head without me even realizing it. It's HORRID! I do not want these thoughts anymore. Really really really. I'm so tired of them. They are no longer welcome in my mind! (As if they were ever welcome...but habit, peeps, habit.)

3. I get so impatient when I am driving and I find myself having to remind myself that it isn't life or death and I'm not driving: a police squad car while I chase down a car thief; an ambulance with a triage patient who is about to die; a pregnant lady who is about to give birth. Do I really need to be so mad at people while I'm out on the road?

You get the idea. So how does one go about changing such habits? Hmmmm??? Diligent monitoring of said thoughts? Replacing said thoughts with positive ones while continually diligently moderating said thoughts? It's hard. It's really hard to think about what you are thinking about. Some things just pop into your head without you even thinking about it. And then you have to correct said thought...if you are even paying attention enough. Do you see what I'm getting at here? I think this is a valid point.

But maybe that is just me saying I don't know if I can do a hard thing. But I CAN do a hard thing. It takes effort and practice and I can do that. Make effort and practice. I can do hard things!

See how I think so deeply...just like a poet!

Number Me One of the Dreamers

Hope is an eternal concept. Life can drag you down hard, folks. I'm pretty sure most people already know this. And if you don't? Well, I hate to say just wait...buuuuut...well, I just won't say it and you know I thought it. There. And yet. And still. There it is in front of us. You can't keep it away. You find yourself hoping in spite of your troubles.

That's because it's all about perspective, now isn't it? I mean, you can look at life as a tangled mess, a series of random and crazy happenings, some good and some bad. You might just say that it's all how evolution works. Random events and happenings and such. And in the end, you just live it and get what you get and then it is over.

I don't believe that, though. I don't think life is random. And I even now see that the tough stuff, the stuff that you think is dragging you down, is really all a part of a grand design. No, I don't believe that every little thing that happens in every second of every day was orchestrated. No, I do not. I do think that all experience, however, is opportunity. And there is a difference. Because one involves choice.

Bad or good, any experience involves a choice. You see it how you see it, perspective, that is, and then you choose what to do. I've had times in my life where I've chosen to see it as just my bad luck or punishment or "Ugh...life is so hard and it always has been. Things will never change."

Here is how I want it to change. I'm a dreamer, right? And so I see things as a chance to move toward my dream. Failed relationship? No...a chance to find someone better suited for me. Can't get a job? No...a chance to look for work that is meaningful for me, something I can do that can help others and that I'll love. Can't get a car? No...the right work is just around the corner so that soon I'll have a car, a house, and that pretty office I dream of writing in. Can't get inspired to write? No...I have ideas all the time and I'm writing them down as they come to me. And one day all that will add up to a story to tell.

Life is full of abundance and possibilities. Life is full and good. Life is grand and beautiful. I'm not lucky. I am blessed with hopes and dreams.

So This Is What I Did...

...To say YES today!

Because I can and I will!

A friend from long, long ago in a far away place had a family crisis. We were friends in junior high. Thanks to the miracle that is Facebook, we reconnected.

So her sister Carey lives in Joplin, Missouri. And Joplin was just hit by a serious tornado, and Carey's house was destroyed. She has no insurance to cover the damage. None at all. I feel horrible for them. They have nothing.

I kept getting this feeling that I could help. Normally I'd think of all the things I could do for them, and then I would forget about it or think something like, "Oh, they don't need me. Oh, I can't do that." But instead, this time, I decided to say yes. I can say yes to helping.

Then I thought, "Well, I can send them a gift certificate for Walmart." But that didn't seem like enough. And I kept thinking that maybe I should send out an message to friends in Rockwall. So I did. And I'm going to gather clothing and money for them. I don't expect anything in return, except that I will feel good about doing something for someone who is in need.

And I'm discovering that I can say yes...yes I can!

Just Say Yes!

Or why things are going to be a changing around these parts!

I just want to point something out here before we get started. I have been going strong on this blogging daily thing for three months. That means I'm a quarter of my way through completing my goal. Which is pretty awesome, if I do say so myself!

So anyway, how are things for you these days? No really, I'd like to know.

Things here are pretty decent. I had a little epiphany today. I'm having them a lot lately. I appreciate epiphanies. They help you live a better life if you pay attention. And that is what I am trying to do these days. I'm trying to pay attention.

So I read this today. "With the idea of no, you attract more of no..." (Dr. Wayne Dyer). Ouch. I've sort of developed a bit of a bad habit these days. I say no a lot. That or I wish I could say no or want to say no. These are some of the things I tell myself:

1. I have to get out of my comfort zone
2. I have to exert some modicum of effort...read, I am being lazy
3. I have fears about it - meaning whatever someone is asking me to do makes me anxious and uncomfortable
4. I think I can't do it
5. I think that it won't work out because "it never does"

But by doing that, I'm just attracting more of that no into my life. And is that really how I want to live? NO! (Irony...oh irony!)

Here is a list of things that seemed scary but that I said yes to...and they were smashing successes.

1. I took drama and acted on stage and it was fun and I made some awesome friends (sure I was eight or nine, but I had fun, darn it!). I said yes to being on stage!
2. I learned how to ski. All that reluctance and then when I finally learned, I found out how stupendous it was! (And I admit, I was scared, but now it isn't scary at all!) I said yes to throwing myself down a ski slope!
3. I competed in a beauty pageant and sang in front of over a thousand people. Enough said! I said yes!
4. I learned how to water ski and wake board. I said yes to being pulled behind a boat!
5. I moved cross country four times. Three of those times, I had to find a new job when I got there. I said yes to a new challenge.
6. I earned a graduate degree. I said yes to my future!
7. I was a teacher for six years. I said yes to controlling hundreds of teenagers and their angst on a daily basis!
8. I backpacked through Europe. I said yes to discovering culture!

I've noticed a miracle in my life the last few weeks. I've tried to find answers to help me move forward in my life. And as I've prayed and asked for answers, they have come in both small ways and in big ways. I'm finding that the more I allow myself to believe, to see beauty and abundance in the world around me, the more that I feel the guidance coming in. It may be a phone call from a friend. It may be a kind word. It may be a book. Whatever it is that comes along, though, I feel like the answers are there. And I am very very grateful for that.

I want to say yes more. I really think that the no that has sort of taken over my thinking has really brought me this angst and fear. And it is time to start living above that. I don't want to be one of the quiet masses that goes to bed worried and afraid at night. I want to go to bed feeling happy and excited about what is to come next. And waiting, just waiting, for the next opportunity to say yes. Say yes. SAY YES!!!

Week Three

So week three, week three of the sixty-day shred. Wasn't my finest. Cheated three days. Not supposed to do that. Barely had the energy to work out. But I did work out most days. Tuesday I sort of fell apart. And then I held it together as best I could until Saturday night and the cheating began all over again. And then today, well, today wasn't sooooo bad. But I did indulge.

I try, I do.

And so I think that is the point. I'm going to step it up again this week. Work out for an hour to an hour and a half a day. All six days.

No sugar. I mean it! No sugary snacks and sweets!!!

But I'm still three weeks in and I still feel good about the direction I'm heading in.

I also read something today that really resonated with me. "You cannot attract attractiveness into your life by hating anything about what you've allowed yourself to become. Why? Because hatred creates a counter-force of hatred that disempowers your efforts." (Dr. Wayne Dyer)

In other words, by being upset at myself because I gained weight or hating the way I look is only making it worse. Instead, I need to be kind to myself and focus on the good I see. And I think that makes perfect sense. Light attracts light. Good attracts more good. And..."Simple kindness to one's self and all that lives is the most powerful transformational force of all." (Dr. David Hawkins)

And that goes for all aspects of my life. The good I see in myself only helps me to gain more that is good. And it helps me to see the good in the world, the good in others. It simply brings more beauty into my life.

I believe in God. I do, I do. I believe He is good and kind. I believe He wants us to have not just good lives but beautiful lives. All that we put out into the world, good or evil, comes back to us. I believe good and beautiful things are in my life. There is only more of that to come.

The End

It was supposed to be the end of the world today. And it wasn't...or isn't. Because it is still today, and it isn't the end. The rapture I heard so much about didn't happen.

But I'd like to think, for a moment, about endings.

I like some endings. Like a good cliff-hanger...a la Castle's season finale this year. Because then you have to anticipate what is coming next. I love anticipation.

I like the ending of HP. Because Rowling didn't try to drag the story out over the course of Harry's life. The arc of the story ended with Voldemort's demise. It's the natural, appropriate way to finish off a great tale.

I loved the ending of law school. No more finals...ever!

I loved it when the bar was OVER! No need to explain.

Oh, and the ending of Life of Pi because it's just unsettling and doesn't answer any of your questions but leaves it all open and ponderous. Sometimes you need something messy.

The last day of the school year was always good...a whole summer stretching out in front of you!

The ending of Inception. Sort of like Life of Pi...unsettling.

Oh there are lots of ways that endings can be good. And maybe even if the rapture had come and it was the end of the world, it would be alright. At least then my student loans would be forgiven!!!

An Unfortunate Occurrence

Occurrence...is that how you spell it? I think so. Spell checker isn't correcting me, so I suppose it's correct. It just seems like a lot of letters is all. Have you ever noticed that? Like two Cs and and two Rs are necessary for the pronunciation? Why? Oh English, you are inexplicable!

So here is the 411 on my hair. I went to lovely little Bethany at Bel Fiore Salon and Spa in Rockwall. It's tres chic! And Bethany did a little working on my hair. It looks fabulous! I'm telling you what. That girl knows her way around a color job. I love the root lift. I love it! I never thought I'd love my hair color more than when John at Bubbles started doing it eons ago. Seriously, it was forever ago! And he was great. But boy, this color is just something else!

Anyway, so she gets done cutting and styling it, so I look way hot. You know how it is when you leave the salon and you feel super sassy because a professional just fixed your do for you. It's one of my faves.

And then it happens. The thunder and lightening set in - BOOM! When the thunder and lightening are that loud, you know what is coming next. That's right...a downpour! And I think, great, my cute hair is done for! So I run to the car and it's pouring, I'm talking cats and dogs flooding outside. I think this little piece of flimsy tissue paper will do the trick so I put it over my head, but it just blows all over the place in the torrential winds!!! USELESS! And so thirty seconds later, I'm seated in the car. Well, you know what I look like!

A drowned RAT! No lie. I'm entirely soaked like I just took a shower. And all that hard work and cuteness is out the door in thirty seconds. Oh, wow!!! I was pretty sad about it.

And now, instead of having a no wash day... (I love days when I don't have to wash my hair. Don't you? You can just pull it up and call it a morning and no fuss. Oh, no wash days....) But that isn't going to happen tomorrow. Because I can't go around with fuzzy hair. And that, my friends, is what I have right now. Fuzzy hair. Not the sleek, pretty hair that I left the salon with - for a moment, anyway. Before the torrential downpour ruined it!

Oh if only. It stopped pouring about three minutes after I got in my car. BUG! I should have waited it out.

An Unexpected Good Read...and My 88th Post

So I have this weird thing with numbers. Like eight. It's my favorite number, and despite the fact that I know this is NOT true, I believe it is lucky. And that, somehow, everything associated with it will bring me luck. Like when I got my new car and it first registered that I had gone 888 miles. I wanted to see the numbers turn. And there after, I would watch the odometer, waiting for double or triple or even quadruple 8s to turn up. Because I knew on that day, something lucky would happen. I do this everywhere. I do it when I'm running on the treadmill. I do it when I see signs for phone numbers. I even do it when I get a new credit card. So, this must be a lucky post...and excuse my superstitious obsession with the number eight. I'll have to tell you tomorrow if it turns out that I'm lucky or not! (Oh please, oh please...let it bring me good luck!)

So here is a book that I did not expect to like so much...You should try it out. It was more than decent. It was really good. Really!

Matched by Ally Condie

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


I'm actually surprised I put this book on my list...or read it for that matter. Not because I don't like dystopian fiction. I do. Fahrenheit 451 was a favorite sophomore year in high school. And 1984 remains one of the best and most haunting books I've ever read. I remember sitting in my AP English class and just picking it up off of the shelf. I don't think my teacher even knew I took it. I couldn't put it down. (I did, eventually, return it!)

I have to admit that I'm always reluctant when I know that the dystopian story is meant for young adults. Perhaps I haven't had a lot of luck in this area, picking stories (in this genre that are meant for teens) that speak to me as a grown-up. Often I find myself thinking...hmmm, I might have liked this when I was fourteen.

But Matched took me pleasantly by surprise. What started off as a simple story became much more nuanced and complex than I expected. So there is a young girl, Cassia, who reaches her seventeenth birthday. And everyone in her society is matched when they turn seventeen. The society picks out the perfect person, one who is ideal for compatibility and for having children with. Cassia is happy with her match...at first. And then she discovers someone she might love differently. Now she has to choose.

Simple enough premise. What made the story for me was Cassia. She's a sweet, good girl who really wants to do the right thing. And yet she feels this pull toward living her own life. And as she discovers that she is a person with her own thoughts, her own ideas, and her own destiny, she knows she must fight the society. It won't be easy, but she makes the choice.

I also really enjoyed the way the society's perfect facade slowly disintegrates over the course of the story. It's all rosy on the surface, but there are problems. And Cassia isn't the only one to notice that. She gets support from the most unlikely of places, and people reach out who really shouldn't run the risk. I like that underlying current of a society on the brink of falling apart, a people on the edge of rebellion. It makes me all the more excited to read the second book, to see the rebellion come to life.

Don't even get me started on Condie's use of Dylan Thomas's poem Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night. It was awesome. I love it when writers take a piece of another writer's work and then build a story that incorporates that work into the motifs and themes of their story. The poem takes the novel to another level. It was, excuse the seeming pun, a perfect match of thematic elements. Stupendous!

And finally, something clean to read. I really really appreciated that. No swears, no sex. Just a good story, good story telling and really great prose.

The only reason I gave it four stars? The starting was a bit slow and at times it does feel a little juvenile. But not enough to make me think it wasn't worth the read. It was! (And it is a pretty quick read, too...).

(Note...this is a little aside that has nothing to do whatsoever with the merits of the novel. Proceed if you wish.) Of course, Ms. Condie is a BYU grad and Mormon, so it's probably to be expected that the story was clean. But I guess that is what makes me cheer for the book all the more. She is proving that you can write a novel for a general YA audience, keep it clean, and still sell books...something I think publishers might have forgotten. And it's always fun to see a fellow BYUer's success!



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Strong Finisher

Imagine going from the above, all the way to this! WOW!!!


So these sisters...Olivia and Hannah...are on the Biggest Loser. Which is a fave of mine because of my obsession with make-overs. I truly enjoy transformation.

I've watched several seasons of the show, and there have been some contestants that I thought were eeeeeeville! Mostly just in it to get money, not concerned about the real problems they had that caused them to become obese. And of course there have been some really inspirational people like Ali Vincent. She made a come back and became the first female biggest loser. And she was a nice person, so of course I wanted her to win.

But these two sisters. I mean really! WOW!!! Who saw them coming? Certainly not me! There were some big guys on the show this season. Not to mention Courtney who had lost over a hundred pounds on her own. Imagine losing that much before going on The Biggest Loser! So I guess I'm saying there was some real competition there.

It didn't stop them. And that is truly inspirational. But it isn't the weight loss that makes me adore them. I think it is Olivia's fierce attitude. I mean that woman took control. She really got it in the end...that it was about finishing what you start. Oh how I needed that reminder. I haven't wanted to keep going on my sixty-day shred the past few days. But Olivia is right - you've got to finish what you start...see it through all the way to the end. She did, and so will I!

I really love Hannah because I relate to her. I feel like I'm that girl hiding behind fear. I may not be 100 pounds overweight. But there are other things to hide behind. I would know. And so when she talks about wanting to find love and feeling like she's worth something now, I get it. And if I were going to tell her anything, I would tell her that I think she is amazing! And the best part isn't that she looks great. The best part is that she knows she's special. That's really what matters - knowing what you are worth and then taking control and making your life what you want it to be.

I really can't wait to see which one of these two wins! Either way, they are going to both look amazing.

Abundance

I'm reading a new book called The Power of Intention. It was recommended by a friend. I'm glad she recommended it. Mostly because what it says rings true. And I can be a skeptic. And why does it ring true? It's hard to put a finger on it, precisely. I think what really makes the difference for me is that it is kind. A strange way to describe it, but the philosophy itself is kind and life affirming.

Too much of our world is not that way. And too much of what I focus on is not that way.

This has me thinking about that, seriously thinking about it, especially as a person of faith. A person who professes to believe in God.

Because what is God, if not kind and life affirming? What is God, if not beautiful? And what is God, if not abundant?

And really it is the abundance that has my attention. I've spent a lot of time thinking in terms of limits...which really amount to excuses.

Here is what I know:

1. The universe and everything in it was created by God and the universe and God's creations are limitless.

2. God is loving and wants to give us all good things.

3. If I think of just my own existence, that God's power brought me into being, and then I think of the billions of people who have ever lived and recognize that God's power brought them into being, well, then my mind feels like it might explode. If that isn't a manifestation of God's abundance, I do not know what abundance is.

4. It does not stop there. If we just focus on this earth, and this earth alone, we see that it is teeming with life. And that process of growth never stops.

5. And then there is the universe in all it's glory. The stars alone are testament to the limitless nature of God.

So why do I think in terms of limitation? Why do I worry that the earth's resources will run dry? Why do I think only about the student debt and not about the abundance of opportunities there are to work? Why do I worry about being lonely and in the state of noboyfriend when there are billions of human beings on this planet? And there is no limit to the amount of love that is out there...in any form? Why do I think of excuses as to why things cannot happen instead of thinking of all the reasons and ways that they can happen? And do happen, every day?

There is more than enough and plenty to go around. So no more of this worrying about limits. My life and the possibilities God has in store for me are limitless, teeming, abundant!

Genres

Warning: this is a brain storming session and may not interest anyone but me. You've been advised. Carry on if you so choose...or not.

If I were to write a novel...scratch that...when I write a novel, what genre should I engage? I've toyed around with plots for different stories. And now I think it is time to decide for realz. Here is a run down of genres I've thought over, some authors and general thoughts about each.

1. Mysteries/thrillers: John Grisham used to be my drug. And then I enjoyed a little Mary Higgins Clark. (Back in high school I think my friends and I had the lock down on Ms. Clark's books in the library. I know, I just said that out loud. If you are used to the nerdiness that is me by now, don't read this. It's just going to get worse.) Mystery/thrillers are still among my favorite guilty pleasures. I find myself drawn to them over and over. Even after I've sworn them of for good because they have too much sex (ahem...James Patterson). Or they are far too over the top (ahem...well...Clive Cussler...sorry Clive. I think that if I met you in real life, I'd think you were super nice.)

Maybe I've been watching too much Castle of late. But really, writing about fast chase scenes and murder and mayhem might be kind of fun since that is entirely removed from my life and really most people's lives and it's just plain escapism for both the reader and the writer. And you can write some pretty ridiculous stuff, and completely get away with it.

2. Historical/Thriller: C.J. Sansom, a well-beloved Brit, writes some great stories about a hunch back lawyer in the Elizabethan Era. I really enjoyed The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova and The Devlin Diary by Christi Phillips. Since these are both historical and thriller, they combine the best of both worlds. I suppose you'd then have to include Mr. Dan Brown here.

Although I love these types of books, and writing one would be fun, there are two issues here. One, you have to find some kind of historical mystery (at least, the best of the books do center on a real life mystery and then blow it up, make it over the top, etc.). Two, you have to do your research, and you have to do a lot of it. But then that could be fun, too, because you would be learning something entirely new and interesting.

3. Historical: I'm thinking Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follett or Romancing Miss Bronte by Juliet Gael.

Again, you get back to research. And even more of it. So that has it's pros and its cons. But really for me, I'd have to find something I really felt a great deal of interest in. Because I really like the idea of the thriller part of writing a novel.

4. Young Adult: Now this covers a lot of ground. I could be like J.K. Rowling or E. Lockhart. I like the idea of writing a fantasy story. And I like the idea of writing a fresh new character.

Here are a couple of issues I see with young adult literature of late. One: it's all about paranormal romance lately. I'm pretty over it. Two: I would want to do something fresh and original. I also think I'd want to do fantasy. Is that even possible...an original fantasy novel for young adults? I'm not sure it is.

5. Romance: Nicholas Sparks is not what I'm thinking here. In fact, I'm not even sure what author to list here, unless we include Jane Austen or Charlotte Bronte, which I'm not because why would I even kid myself. I guess the reason I say that is because I cannot think of one modern romance that is really any good, at least in my humble opinion. And for the record, I do mean romance and not a hybrid (a la These Is My Words, which is a period piece and a good romance or The Time Traveler's Wife which is both fantasy/sci-fi meets romance).

Actually, this is an area that needs a good, honest story and not one that is filled with trite sentiment, ridiculous female characters who can't make good decisions, male leads that are not demi-gods. And yet that is what sells, and I hardly see myself writing that type of story. So I just sort of don't know.

Well, those were the genres I've thought about for a book. What would you write if you were going to write a novel?

Doing Something Right

Sometimes I forget to acknowledge the good things in my life.

Like yesterday's run, which was stupendous, btw. (Do you like text messaging shorthand? Jury is still out for me.) And here is why the jog was so stupendous. I woke up feeling sluggish, and in my mind, I thought, "Well, we'll just have to see how this goes. Because right now, I'm not feeling it."

And then I went out to get started. The first two miles were not great. They weren't horrid, but they weren't great. I'm having thoughts of quitting and just walking it off or whatever. Lame excuses about why I shouldn't do this abound in my head. Still, I hold out, thinking what's three miles, after all. Three miles? That is nothing, nada, zilch! And then I'm getting to about two and a half miles, and I get a second wind. And this second wind, well, it was no ordinary second wind, you see. It was the energizer bunny of second winds because it just keeps on going and going. I mean for almost an hour, this second wind kept going. No lie, which I mean, when does that happen, is what I want to know. But it was happening, let me tell you. So suddenly I'm on for eight, and I'm not stopping.

Even more? Let me tell you about the weather. Now TXas is hot, and there have been some barn burners already. But not Saturday. Saturday, Saturday. I could write and ode to the perfection that was Saturday. It was breezy and cool - around sixty degrees, which is the exact temperature I like when I go out for a run. And the sky was so so blue and the clouds were fluffy white. And...AND!!! It is so prefectly green right now - the pretty spring green that hasn't had too much heat and sun so that it's been scorched away, into a sort of green but a sort of rusty brown that comes when temperatures get into the 100s and the humidity climbs and then soars. So that was pretty awesome is what it was.

And I was running with this stupendous second wind and this sparkly dream of a day. I did it, I tell you... a full eight miles. So I guess as it turns out I actually was feeling it. I wish every day I could run like that.

What I also saw was the blessing that came because of my positive attitude about exercise these past two weeks. I've worked hard. I've spent an hour to an hour and a half working out daily. I've done two work outs a day, even. I've been eating well. I'm kind of on fire!

Sometimes - well, so mostly all the time - when I start out on a new health regiment, I look at the scale and focus on a number. And I forget the milestones don't have to be marked by pounds lost or a number on a pair of jeans. Milestones can be marked in other ways. They can be marked by appreciating how sore your body gets after really pushing it hard and then being grateful when it bounces back so quickly. Milestones can be marked by noticing that your muscles feel tighter under your skin or how exercise makes your skin glow. Milestones can be marked by a really stupendous run in perfect weather.

There is a lot to be grateful for when you do something right. When you work, you see results in so many ways. And it is especially good to notice and be grateful that the work you put in really does pay off. So I am grateful for the work so that I could have that perfect morning and that perfect jog.

Guilt

Sometimes I feel bad about being me. Not about how I look, or what I say, or how many times I exercised in a week.

No this is more of a guilt about being me. I feel like I got more than my fair share sometimes in life. I'm not living in poverty. I've never gone hungry unless it was by choice, and even then, never more than twenty-four hours. I've never wondered if I would have a place to sleep or clothes to wear.

I've always had friends and family to help me. I've never been entirely rejected - because there was always someone there. Always.

I've had a really good education. I'm gifted. And hey, I can read and write. Which is saying something. Even if we get jaded and forget that reading and writing are blessings.

I've traveled...a lot. To places I only dreamed of seeing when I was little and would curl up with an encyclopedia to find out more about the Eiffel Tower or Loch Ness.

And of course I have a testimony of Christ. And that is probably more important than all the rest.

And sometimes all of this makes me feel guilty - like why are others born into poverty? Why do some people have physical or mental ailments? Why do some people get rejected by parents, family, peers?

I'm not talking about choice here...I'm talking about when and where you were born and to whom. Because all of those things matter. They more than matter. They determine.

But then something occurred to me. It's useless to feel guilt over it - as if it was a question I decided myself. This is my life, regardless of whether or not I could have had different parents or whether or not I could have been born in a different time and place. I never had control over this part of it.

And that reminds me of the parable of the talents. Christ taught that you use your gifts to the best of your ability and that a wise steward will multiply her gifts. She will make them grow...whether they be few or many. An unwise servant will be afraid and will even, perhaps, waste what she is given. So it is better to take advantage of your gifts rather than to be afraid.

I shouldn't feel guilty because this is what my life is. God loves me, and He gave this life to me. Why? I'm not totally sure. But I am grateful. I am very grateful.

A Pox on Blogger!!!

So, last night I went to write my post. Imagine my dismay when blogger was down. And I could not write my post! I even had a great book review...no joke!

But imagine even more dismay, if you will, when I logged on this morning and not only was blogger still down, but my post from Wednesday was gone! Gone I tell you! Now that is distressing because I really liked that whole cosmic vending machine idea and what not! That was a stupendous post. (Still can't get over how much I love the word stupendous...it's a ridiculously awesome word!)

And now, I ask you, and now? Well...now I have to write two posts today, and I hope that blogger will get my post back from Wednesday, that's what. Because this is throwing off my perfect (alright, okay, near perfect) record of daily blogging, and now I look like a slacker. So I'm sort of bugged by that.

And besides, blogger said they were restoring posts that were gone. So, blogger, where is it? Hmmmmm???? I sure hope it appears in the next few days. I'd hate for it to be lost to the world, what with all its glorious insights into life and such. Blogger, you are sort of rude right now! Really, really rude!

Real Live Boyfriends (Don't Get Excited, Now...It's a Book Review!)

So really I'm writing this from the future! It's a post that was supposed to be up on Thursday, but since blogger was down. Well, I'm just writing it for now and saying I wrote it on Thursday. And that does count...what with it being not my fault and all.

So remember how I wasn't swallowing books whole? Well, I guess I lied a little bit. Because I finally got the last book in the Ruby Oliver series by E. Lockhart. And you know how I feel about E. Lockhart. Sigh. The series is now over. A little sad it about it ending, but I must say it was a delight to read! Thanks, E. Lockhart. Thank you very much for writing such marvelous stories and characters.

Real Live Boyfriends: Yes. Boyfriends, Plural. If My Life Weren't Complicated, I Wouldn't Be Ruby Oliver by E. Lockhart

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


I'm a little sad to see this all come to an end, really. I like Ruby. Lots and lots. She's so funny and quirky and self-absorbed, but not in a malicious way. More in a trying to figure her life out sort of way. Besides, she's seventeen. And that, my friends, is just the way seventeen is, isn't it? I am right. I have been seventeen.

What I really liked about Ruby this go round is that she isn't "stealing" boyfriends...which I don't think she was doing before...but at least now she can settle on just a few boys and not a plethora of boys. And other girls don't have to be so mean to her anymore.

She isn't having panic attacks but instead simply deals with her multiplicity of crises. So she's growing up. A little.

She can stand up for herself. Sometimes it isn't very graceful or mature. Sometimes she just yells at people. But at least she's not choking back her angst. Which is soooooo not healthy. Maybe she still has so growing up to do, what with the angry shouting and all, but she's seventeen. So.

She recognizes that two people can have opposing but valid ways of viewing a situation, so maybe both people should be sorry and both people should try to be a better friend/boyfriend/girlfriend.

She sees the good qualities in people that almost everyone else overlooks. Like Hutch...that even with his awkwardness, he is smart and nice and can be relied on. Like Meghan...that she isn't just a pretty bimbo but a person who knows how to be a real friend.

And finally, she sees that Kim and Cricket are mean girls. And mean girls just suck. And it has nothing to do with you personally when these types of girls single you out for mistreatment. Because they are mean and that is what mean people do. Be mean and suck.

So E. Lockhart...I look forward to whatever comes next! Be that what it may - I'm pretty sure I'll enjoy it!



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A Cosmic Vending Machine

Once upon a time, I was in community theater. You see I wanted to be an actress. Every week, my mom would take me to the high school where we would practice our plays. I never was the lead - I was young and had small parts. Maybe six or seven lines? I would work hard to memorize them, though.

But my favorite part of community theater was being with my friends and being at the high school. The high school was a magical place with hidden rooms behind stages. And mostly it was where grown-ups were...big, grown-up teenagers! So mature, so world-wise. Yes, I loved going to the high school to be around teenagers.

And then too, I loved the vending machine.

I was a chubby kid. I had a sweet tooth. And the elementary schools most certainly did not have that gloriously magical machine.

One day, after our theater practice was all over, I went to meet my mom. On the way, I stopped at the vending machine for a treat. I remember I had this little blue purse that my Grandma Andrus had given me. And I knew I had just enough for a candy bar. So I rooted around in the purse and found my money. It took me a while, let me tell you. Who knows what a grade schooler needs with a purse full of junk, but I'm sure I had all sorts of important and valuable treasures.

I put my money in, after all that rooting for change, and guess what? The machine ate my money!!! Oh the depths of my disappointment to have to leave that money behind without my longed for candy bar.

Many years later, I was listening to a talk at stake conference. I was particularly touched by one talk...the talk where I learned something true. God is not a cosmic vending machine. We don't push the right combination of buttons and magically get what we want.

Why? Because God is a being independent of our wants and our desires. And what a magnificent being He is!

Probably, as a chubby little girl, I didn't really need that candy bar, want it as I did. And probably now as an adult, all the things I think I need, probably I don't. Probably I should just let Him do His work. Like, I put the money in...the effort that I have to give. And then I wait patiently to see what He thinks I need most.

I suppose, though, it is comforting to think that there might be some big vending machine in the sky that might grant you one wish in your life. The funny thing is, I always thought I knew what I would ask for. Now I am not so sure. I'm not so sure I want to decide what that will be. Maybe it is just better to be surprised and happy with what you get.

A World Without

I really sort of enjoy post-apocalyptic fiction. Sort of a surprise for me. Like Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter. Fiction I thought I would never ever in a million years enjoy. It turns out I'm sort of not all that picky when it comes to reading, at least as far as the genres are concerned. And even sometimes when it comes to quality. But I don't read smutty romances...so there is that. AND...I have yet to find anything in the sci-fi genre that works for me. But if you have a recommendation, I'd happily oblige you and attempt reading it.

But I digresss...So! Why do I like post-apocalyptic fiction in particular? Hmmmmm...that is what I've been pondering since finishing The Passage (see my review, below). It was uber enjoyable to read about life after a serious decimation of humanity. But that is a sort of bleak thing - enjoying a book that is about the demise of the planet.

I think it's because I wonder what life would be like without. Without Walmart. Without netflix. Without the Internet (p. to the s. WHY is that capitalized??? It is a noun that names a very non-specific person, place, thing or idea...HELLO!!! I don't understand). Wouldn't it be sort of peaceful to live a life filled with doing for yourself? Growing a garden or raising your own chickens. Stocking up for the winter. Having only three pairs of pants and two pairs of shoes and just making do with it. Oh how this would completely unclutter my life! I'd stop wanting wanting wanting all the time.

And then there is that idea of completely rebuilding. Or at least colonizing and organizing what was left of the human race. How would we build government if we had to start from scratch? Would we adopt the Constitution all over again? Maybe I would but I think I'd modify the electoral college...what a mess! Or maybe we couldn't because it would be about surviving and staying together. No more elections at all. Just a king or queen or tsar or something to prevent anarchy and chaos from busting loose.

But then maybe I'd be a lone wolf, like in I Am Legend. And that wouldn't be fun. I wouldn't want to live all alone, as much as I enjoy a little peace and time to myself.

I suppose what really attracts me to the idea is that everything would start anew. There would be no rich or poor. We'd have to work together to survive. Everyone would have to take on a role in order for society to go forward. But maybe that is the romantic view, really. Because in all reality, it would be hard. It would be scary.

It reminds me of the way I romanticize Little House on the Prairie. I love those stories for their simple lives. I've said all that before. But building a home or planting and raising crops or animals is work, and it is hard work. Do I have this notion that I need to get out of work? Hmmmm. Maybe? I hope not. Because work is good, and so is simplicity.

I don't know where this is going...but maybe here is a question. What types of books do you like best? Why? Any good ones to recommend?

The Passage

Oh, I did enjoy this book! I did, I did!

The Passage by Justin Cronin

My rating: 5 of 5 stars


What the what, Justin Cronin? This book is a series? How did I miss that? (You might think my keen powers of observation would have informed me that, when the title on goodreads reads thusly, The Passage (The Passage, #1), I might get clued in.... But alas, those keen observation skills must not be so keen as I believed!)



Anyway, so I sort of vacillated here. Between four and five stars, but then, when it comes right down to it, I was engrossed from the beginning and didn't want to put it down. So for that alone, I decided on five stars. My one and only beef was the language. A lot (and I do mean a lot a lot) of eff words. I've taken up a habit now when I see the word in writing - a little tip from my best friend. I say "fish" in my head whenever it pops up. Seriously, peeps. It helps defuse the harshness and sometimes even makes me laugh. And it is my last name...so there's that.



Okay, well enough with all the nonsense, and let us just get on with why this book was so stupendous. (BTW - I love that word, don't you? Just say it out loud...stupendous! Awesome). Now really, on with the show!



First of all, Justin Cronin is a cliff-hanger Jedi warrior. He only gives you enough of the puzzle so that you aren't completely frustrated, but not too much so that you really know too much about what is going on. Piece by piece he builds the mystery of the virals, vampire like beasts who've pretty much taken over the entire globe, leaving few survivors in their wake.



I've sort of made it a habit of swallowing books whole like the reading glutton I am. So I chose, instead, to read this over the course of a few weeks. And it was hard. Really hard! I wanted to stay up late and finish it on several occasions. However, I didn't. And that waiting for the next part made it all the more enjoyable.



Second of all, it's a grown-up vampire tale without all the romantic drama, the over-the-top sexuality, or the good vampire/bad vampire trend. Actually, it's just creepy. Which is even better, in my humble opinion. It's subtle...sneeking. So these virals have spread out over the country, and us regular folks can't go out at night. Every time someone is out and about and twilight begins to fall, my heart would beat a little faster. Because what in the world are they doing out wandering about like that when they know the virals could pounce any second? It's sort of the whole unseen thing that makes it eerie and haunting.



Third - the back story is interesting and exciting. I can't say much here because I don't want to give anything away. But the story of how the virals came to be and how they can be stopped unfolds over the entire story, slowly. And when the big battle comes...well, just wow! It's frightening and monstrous.



Fourthly: the plot movement. The action was well paced. And Cronin fills the lulls with stories about the characters that make them endearing. You feel invested in the story and in the people who live in it. His pacing was near perfect. At times, he jumps quickly between settings and characters, especially during action sequences. At times, he moves slowly and builds the story and the characters. He's a fantastic story teller...and this really is a reader's novel.



Finally - why must this be a series and why must a I wait until 2012 to read the next book? (And please don't let the second book be an epic fail like another series I just started but shall not mention...pretty please!!!)



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My Mother

Of course, it is Mother's Day. And I have a mother... and a very lovely and wonderful mother at that. So this is for her.

I have many many memories of the kind things that my mom did for me over the years, especially as a teenager. I was an emotional teen (surprise!). And she was always there to listen to my woes and to encourage me to feel better, to do better, to be better. My mother is patient, and she is kind. She loves little children. She's actually sort of a miracle with children. Of course, I have little patience when it comes to the rug rats, but wow! Children love her and she loves them. Many of my favorite memories of her include times when I have watched her with my nieces and nephews. She cuddles them, and hugs them, and loves them. It is a joy to watch her.

But I want to share a personal memory of my mom, of her example, because it's been on my mind all day long today. Here goes: so I loved this show when I was little - Kids Incorporated. You probably don't know about it. It was sort of the poor man's Mickey Mouse Club. (Because we didn't have cable, what with living out in the country. How primitive, you might exclaim. It was a blessing, if you ask me.) You see, I really and truly wanted to be a member of Kids Incorporated. It was my only hearts desire to sing and to dance. I was often caught in our front living room, jump rope handle in hand, waiting for a song to come on the radio - like Whitney Houston's I Wanna Dance With Somebody - so I could dance around and sing along.

Anyway, Kids Incorporated came on Sunday afternoons. My parents really didn't allow us to watch t.v. on Sundays. But sometimes, well sometimes they would allow it, and I would get to watch my favorite program. That is, until our time for church changed, and we were in church when it was scheduled. I was heart-broken. But getting out of church? Not going to happen. Not in the Fish household, no sir. So one Sunday I came up with a plan. I would be sick.

I think my mother knew.

And the family left me behind. Of course, I was sure my mom had fallen for it. I couldn't wait to watch my show. It was going to be awesome. It's funny how now I don't even remember the show or any of its details. I don't remember the singers. I don't remember the songs. I do remember something else, though. Something that is probably much more important.

After the show was over, I went out to our front lawn. I began singing and dancing and just enjoying myself as I pretended to be the star of the show. I suppose I thought I would see my mom and her large custom yellow and brown van as it headed back to our house. I'm not sure, really. Maybe I just wasn't thinking at all. In any event, I missed that van's return until it was too late. By the time I saw it, I knew my mother had seen me. Singing and dancing around the yard while she drove up the driveway.

I don't remember the punishment, although I am sure there was one. What I do remember is the look on my mother's face. She was disappointed. And she let me know. I hadn't made the right decision to stay home and dance around and play and watch Kids Incorporated.

I don't know if I ever watched the show again after that. BUT...I do know that I never skipped church to watch t.v. again. And I do know that I didn't want to disappoint my mom like that...ever.

So it was a small thing, a childish thing. But this is what I knew about my mother after that. I knew she had expectations for me. I knew she expected me to live up to them. I didn't know when I was a child how difficult it is to punish children. Not a day goes by that a mother with young children doesn't have to deal with some form of disobedience or another. And frankly, it must be sooooooooooo exhausting. I'm sure it would have been so easy to look the other way at my childish behavior, to have said it isn't a big deal...kids will be kids...she's too young to understand.

But that wasn't the example she wanted to set for me. She wanted me to know church was important to her. She wanted me know that it should be important to me. I did after that day.

In this small way, and so many others, my mother taught me. I am thankful for that. I am thankful for a mother who was diligent in setting a good example for me, no matter how small and insignificant it might have seemed.

More to Come

I've been reading and reading a very fabulous book that I cannot wait to review! I actually cannot wait to finish it.

I've decided that I'm not going to be a speed reader and consume books in one gulp anymore. And so I've been savoring and savoring The Passage by Justin Cronin. It is, in a word, stupendous. I haven't been this entranced by a mystery in a very long time. Cronin is a master manipulator (but in a good way...a very good way). He leaves you hanging - giving you just enough to see a small part of the bigger picture so that you can't wait to get to the next part. And then the next. I have less than a hundred pages to go, and I'm pretty excited to find out how it will all fit together in the end.

Review to come! Until then, happy reading everyone!

What Do You Mean the Next Stop Is Hell?

Full confession...I got this idea from a website called journal ideas. I guess I'm getting sort of desperate. And you know what desperation calls for...desperate measures. And second warning - maybe this is a bit of downer entry.

Oh well.

But really, this is actually a great idea for an entry. Better than most I've found when I'm feeling like I can't find anything rattling up around in my cranial region. And I go surfing the net. Only to come up empty.

I think I'm starting to figure something out, though. A little bit, anyway. And that is what hell is like. I was doing my Jillian DVD - and yes, hell might be a little like that workout felt - but it's actually something that she said that really caught my attention.

So before the actual workout starts, she's giving her little schpeel. Her philosophy about exercise and caring for you body. And I skip it because, well, it's uber silly to me. I mean, it's good to have a philosophy, but let's just get to the workout and what not so I can get my sweat on. Anyway, in my fastforwarding frenzy, I went to far. And so I backed up. And that was too far, but I hit play anyways...and just happened to hear a little bit of what she had to say.

Most people operate in a comfort zone that is far below their potential. (Or something along those lines...I don't remember her exact words, but the sentiment is the same and I am giving her credit. So.)

What's that you say, Jillian? Are you talking to me. I think so!

And that is hell, my friends. Hell is not living up to what you know you can do. And some days it feels like that is the next stop on the train. Hell that is. It's so easy to get trapped, too. It becomes a habit. So every day I feel like I have to remind myself that I don't want to function this way...in a rut, that is. I want more...soooooooooooooo much more!

I want to have the freedom to do. I want to write books. I want to go to China and then maybe Peru and the Loire River Valley and oh so many many places. I want to buy a cute little house and decorate it with pretty photographs of sparkling landscapes and old, burnt out buildings. And fill it with books and read read read. I want to date and fall in love.

And yet. And yet it is so easy to fall into the comfort zone. It's so easy to give half of my heart and reserve the rest. It's so easy to hold back. It's so easy. So easy. But there is no denying that it's not fulfilling my full potential. And there is also no denying that it is hell.

It's Sort of A Lot

365 days that is...of coming up with topics to write about. I know this is for my benefit. I don't even think anyone is reading this blog as of now. But I'm just saying, even just writing for my own benefit, it's pretty difficult to come up with a daily topic.

But I guess that is why I'm doing it. To exercise my writing muscles and to follow through with a project that requires me to write every day. It's how you get better, right?

Speaking of getting better at stuff, so today I did my Jillian DVD. It was hard. And my muscles were burning after. But I went out and ran for forty minutes anyway. And it might have been the slowest time ever. In recorded history. My legs were feeling a little jello-ish and fatigued. So they didn't really want to move very fast, and any little incline (and there are not really any hills here in Aubrey...THANK YOU! so I do mean any little incline) freaked me out. I was struggling, at least for the first fifteen minutes and definitely for the last five. But I didn't stop. I'm pretty proud of myself. I'm proud of the efforts I've been putting in. And someday soon, very soon, I'll be completing my workouts without that jello-ish feeling in my legs. I'll be trucking along...quick as a bunny!

I'm also proud of my efforts with this blog experiment. Some days I'll have more to say than others. And some days will be like today. I trucked a long, got some thing done that needed doing. But no big insights and no grand adventures to speak of. So that will have to be that.

I'm off to read a little. And maybe soon I'll have a few good book reviews to post...tomorrow. Or the next day.

Of Butterflies

What does a Monarch butterfly feel when it's all bound up in it's chrysalis? Does it know?

Does it know that it was once a caterpillar, a homely insect, squat and striped with all those little legs? Does it know that it won't always be fettered and folded up like that? Does it feel safe? Or is it afraid? Afraid of being stuck tightly inside, never to get out? Does it know that in only a week or two, it will hatch out, and spread brilliant, bright orange wings and take flight? Does it know?

I do think butterflies are amazing creatures, to go from one thing, from being and existing and living as a caterpillar and then to become quite another thing. Existing as a vibrant, delicate creature - a butterfly. To have two lives, two completely different lives. It is truly a miracle and a wonder.

Still really, are butterflies afraid when they are waiting for that moment to come, that moment when they become something new?

Sometimes I feel bound so tightly to failure or to mediocrity or to fear. I feel trapped and alone. I know who I am. I know. And yet, I feel like I'm hemmed in on all sides. Maybe I know change is coming, that I'll be reborn again, become something entirely new. And yet there is a waiting, and so I fear. I fear that it will always be this way. Always.

But then again, maybe the butterfly is patient. Maybe it knows that time does not matter when you will be reborn into something magnificent, beautiful and glowing. And so waiting is hope and joy and anticipation of all the good things that are to come.

Consumerism

I really wanted something last week. I think it might be a sign that I'm aging. You know? Because I wanted Shaun T's Insanity. I got it in my head that it would be the perfect thing for me. The key to losing weight.

I do that a lot...find things that I think are going to get me into the shape I've been dreaming of. Like the Wave or kettle bells.

And I think that old people do that, you know? Fall for the infomercial. Or the pop-up ad.

Anyway, I decided after Leah wisely and very sanely pointed out that I had all the tools I need for weight loss, that I didn't need Shaun T's Insanity or the Wave or kettle bells, all of which I may still want. But I don't need them. I already have a Jillian Micheal's series (the biggest winner...or something like that). And it cost me like 20 dollars. And one kettle bell alone is twice that. Shaun T's Insanity is 150 when you add up shipping and tax. YIKES!!!

So I decided I'd do my own 60 day shred. The first week is getting back on track with weights and cutting out the sugary junk food. And so far so good. Two days of Jillian's DVDs and a sixty minute jog today. No cookies, candies, ice cream...etc. I'm pretty proud of my performance thus far. Next week, I'm starting back on the calorie count. Each week I will come up with a new goal to focus on.

I guess it sometimes takes a voice of reason to point out that what you are chasing after can be accomplished by using what you already have. You would think that I had learned a good lesson about such things after the whole treadmill fiasco. That was an expensive lesson to learn. I still roll my eyes at myself when I think about it. And yet I see this new product and I think I have to have it.

But I don't. And I'm going to prove it to myself in 60 days.

Can We Talk About Perfection?

So I've noticed a few things lately about body image. My own, in particular. And how negative I can be.

In particular, I don't like my pores. At this point you are probably rolling your eyes and getting up from your computer. You should be. It's asinine. I've been self conscious about them since junior high. Yes, junior high. Because that is when puberty hit, and that is when I started getting blackheads, and that is when my pores seemed to open themselves up wide. I'd look around at others and think that their skin didn't look like mine did. I was embarrassed by my large pores. Blah, blah, blah...sob story is that the obsession with having smaller pores has never left.

I've tried various and sundry items. Some things seemed to work well at first, like a pore refiner at the beginning of the day. But then as the day went on, and makeup started to slough off my face (probably just filling up those giant pores of mine), well, the pores looked the same as they always had. The best think that I can say is that a good exfoliator four times a week seems to help. At least my skin stays clean.

And then the wrinkles started to set in...and age spots...and the redness in my cheeks caused by too much sun in my teens and even early twenties. Oh, and I'm prone to moles, anyway, so there's that.

Let's just say my skin doesn't remind me much of peaches and cream.

But what the what? I mean really, what the what? Is it so important? No...it is not that important at all. In fact, in is unimportant is what it is. Because I started looking around me. I'd notice some really pretty girls. And guess what? Their skin is not perfect. Oh, I mean, there are some girls with no skin issues and they are pretty and lucky. But really there are plenty of girls out there with open pores, or acne scars, or sun damage, or freckles, or moles...you get the idea. And they are still pretty.

More importantly, they have more to offer than good looks or whatever perfection is supposed to be. They are kind to others. They serve people around them. They take care of their families. They work hard. They are smart. Maybe that is perfection.

Or maybe it is my new motto, to love more, that is probably a better standard of what perfection is than anything else that I can think of.

Oh I am so completely, utterly, ridiculously hard on myself.

But...I don't have to be. I can appreciate the face, the body, the hair, the mind, the soul that is me. I can. Because there is a lot more to me than open pores. A whole lot more.

I Can Kill the Jabberwocky

I think it is time for a Frabjous Day in my life. I think it is time to kill the Jabberwocky!

Have you watched Alice in Wonderland? The one with Johnny Depp because no doubt you've seen Disney's animated version. If you have not see it, I recommend it. Some people thought it strange, dark, weird. But hello. We are talking about Tim Burton and Johnny Depp. Duh. What did you expect?

Anyway, I hadn't really planned on going to see it or anything. I figured I'd rent it and enjoy the eccentricity that is any Burton film. And then some friends were going, and I wanted to get out...blah, blah, blah. It was awesome. Mostly for three things. One, there is always Johnny Depp's performance. Who is this guy, anyway? He's genius. That's who. And two, there are the costumes that Mia Wis...what? is wearing throughout. And they are pretty awesome, especially the little blue number when she shrinks and the Mad Hatter fashions her a quick something to put on. But three...well three is my favorite thing about the movie.

The unexpected message: You can do the impossible.

I've been in angst over-drive of late. Of course, my entries only prove that. I've been thinking about the "impossible" in my life. And I've been scared silly. I've been scared to the point of total stagnation. Things cannot go on like this.

And right now I feel like I have two options out in front of me. I can't go into a lot of detail today. But one requires a great deal of risk and faith. The other does not. The other involves a safer path, and most likely, will include a path I've already been down. Today I fasted about those choices. And while I cannot say that I clearly knew I was not supposed to do either, I can say that the message I got over and over was this: the risk will bring it's own reward.

I have no idea what that reward might be. I don't know if it will mean some freedom financially. I don't know if it will bring connections. I don't know if it will give me experiences necessary for something in the future.

I can take the safe path. However, I get the feeling that I will then get the safe life. Not necessarily the life I want...or maybe it just won't be the life I hope for and can have. The dream life, you know?

So it sort of freaks me out. But then I watched that movie and Alice is killing the Jabberwocky on Frabjous Day. She's thinking six impossible things. She's alone in her task, and it is a tough one. You may say she's fictional, to which I reply, duh.

But people do the impossible everyday. It's sort of a metaphor...again, duh. For people who get out there and do what they want to do. Living the dream and all that.

So what six impossible things am I going to think of tomorrow? And how am I going to go about slaying the Jabberwocky on my own private Frabjous Day? I'm not sure. But I am going to keep on praying and asking to be Wonder Woman. I am going to continue to have faith that God will help me find the answers. I am going to take a risk. Forget the safe road. I can do this!