My Sweaty Secret

Can I tell you a secret, Internets? I really like working out. *waits for you to collect yourself after dropping that truth bomb*

Okay, so that’s not entirely true. The actual working out part I’m not so much a fan of. But the after? Oh y’all, the after is the best.

Two weeks ago I joined a gym. I haven’t worked out in a proper gym setting in half a decade. But I marched up the stairs at LA Fitness, determined to look like I knew what I was doing, and jumped on the first thing that looked like an elliptical. Y’all. Y’ALL.  It was not an elliptical. It was a Precor machine. The bottom part moves like an elliptical, but on an incline. Thirty seconds into I realized I’d made a terrible mistake, but at this point there’s no turning back. Part of the reason I need a gym membership and can’t just workout by myself at home is there is no one to shame me into continuing when I get tired. Sure, the stupidly attractive dude on the treadmill probably isn’t paying attention to me. And okay sure the tiny college co-ed with her tiny thighs that don’t touch probably isn’t going to judge me if I stop and find a proper elliptical machine, but you try telling that to my brain.

So, I kept going. Twenty minutes, I told myself. You can do twenty minutes. Twenty minutes is just fine.

A minute and a half into it: Fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes is a perfectly acceptable amount of time to work out for the first time in forever. Fifteen minutes. You probably won’t die. You can do fifteen minutes.

Five minutes in: Oh god, you are going to die. You are actually going to die at the gym. The tiny girl with her tiny thighs that don’t touch is so totally going to judge you. Do you think her thighs get lonely with all that space in between them? Oh god, you’re going to throw up. Don’t throw up. Don’t throw up. Oh jesus, he’s pretty. Why is everyone here so pretty?

Spoiler alert: I made it to 15 minutes without throwing up or dying. I also managed to make it down the stairs without my legs giving out. Whose bright idea was it to put the cardio equipment UP A FLIGHT OF STAIRS?

And then I sat in my car looking like this:

The most attractive photo of me ever: let’s put it on the internet!

and trying to get my heart to return to normal. Eventually I made it home during which time my body got real confused. What is this…happy feeling? Am I saying that right? Happy?

BEST. MOOD. EVER. And the only one around to appreciate it was the cat.

Is this how you people feel all the time? Like, you look at that pile of dirty clothes that’s three weeks old and starting to move on its own and it doesn’t make you want to jump out a window, you’re just all, “IT’S FINE.” You see all the dishes in the sink and the empty cat food cans and you’re all, “NO BIG DEAL. HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY.” Still broke, still single, still trying to piece my life together at 31, but IT’S FINE. I FEEL HAPPY.

It’s a new emotion for me, is what I’m saying.

In the meantime, I’ll be buying bulk of this magic tape that makes my knees feel like they’re 16 again and chasing down this happy feeling like a fat kid chases cake.

NaNo NoMo

November is usually the time that I commit to NaBloPoMo, commit to writing in this space every single day. And I thought about it, you guys. I really really did. But. *heavy sigh* I just couldn’t do it. I knew I would fail and right now one more failure would push me from emo to Eeyore and I don’t want to be Eeyore, y’all. I’m a sad about it, because it’s November and November is when you do NaBloPoMo and I am nothing if I’m not a creature of habit and resistant to change, but knowing your limits and all that.

BUT I am going to try something. I believe it’s called a compromise. I’m going to try & write here once a week. HOLD ON TO YOUR BUTTS, Y’ALL. Cause, okay here’s the thing. I have things to say. And I’m happy when I’m writing. So. While I may not be able to commit to writing here every day once a week doesn’t seem so unreasonable, does it? I’m glad you agree.

Go team!

Surface

Today is one of those days where everything is sitting just under the surface. All my anxiety, depression, every fault and failure, they’ve all merged into this teeming, throbbing mass around my heart, just waiting to explode. It takes all of my effort on days like this to not let it detonate. To carry on like I’m not about to shatter into thousands of tiny pieces. I can feel it crawling just under my skin, humming with need and want and manic energy. Everything is urgent and panicked and even breathing comes harder. I feel radioactive.

I don’t have days like this very often, maybe twice a year. I can point to the trigger this time. Usually it’s something small. A million small somethings adding up to tip me over. This time it was like a land mine. Like tripping over a live wire, I know exactly what’s gotten me to this point. I could feel the force of the blast, blowing all of my hard work and the carefully constructed pieces of my sanity to hell. I know that two hours of sleep last night because I couldn’t shut my brain off, because I could feel everything converging and mingling and melding, are exacerbating everything.

But knowing why and how and even when doesn’t help. It doesn’t help when all of your emotions are sitting like exposed nerves waiting for the slightest of breezes to set them off.

I know that I just have to contain it for today. I just have to make it through the day and eventually all the anxiety and depression, all my missteps and faults will release each other. They’ll dissipate and go to their separate corners. I’ll be able to put the pieces of me back where they belong and shore them up so the next land mine does a little less damage.

Not Here

I’m not here a lot, which is nothing new, but it’s starting to weigh heavier on me lately. I want to be here, and I have things to say, but the problem is those things. Because lately all I have to say revolves around working too much and being too lonely. And there’s only so many times you can say oh woe is me, I’m the loneliest, poorest girl in the world before people start rolling their eyes. And even I’m tired of thinking it.

My meds are working and the chemicals in my brain are at the appropriate levels, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m working six days a week & just barely paying my bills. It doesn’t change the fact that while most of my friends are talking about if their families are complete and not having anymore babies, mine hasn’t even started. I’m still painfully single with a rather loud biological clock ticking at me (o hai cliche, nice to meet you. It should be noted that I’m not necessarily looking to trick some dude into marrying me and knocking me up post haste, but more that the option just isn’t even there if I wanted it.)

So every time I sit down to write about something else, about my trip to BlogHer, or the cat’s surgery, or the fact that I just inhaled a good pound of freeze dried apples, or zomg the State Fair! I can’t get past the big purple elephant. (I’ve named him Lars.) And every time I try and look around him, Lars will flap his ears or twitch his tail, nudge me with his trunk and once again it’s all I can see.

I’m working on being okay with it. On trying to change it and being okay with it until then. But for now, excuse me if I can’t see past Lars.

Inappropriate Feelings Towards Paper And A Giveaway

I’m a bit of a journal hoarder from way back. There’s just something about a brand new journal that’s full of possibilities. Do you have a favorite texture? I do: a page that’s been written on. Running my fingers over the indentations, the permanent marks of my stories, my secrets is blissful. Stationary in general is kind of a turn on. The pen aisle at a Staples or Office Depot? Heaven. I’m not saying I’m a sure thing if after dinner you take me to an office supply store instead of a movie, but I’m not not saying it either. In fact, one of my favorite moments with Casey took place in a stationary store while I was caressing holding a journal. Putting pen to prettily bound paper will forever be one of my favorite activities.

journals

Enter Minted, who upped the ante on my love of bound paper. They’ve got a little bit of everything from wedding invitations, and Father’s Day cards, to business cards. But what’s currently making my heart beat a little faster are their custom journals. Dude, you guys. I DIE. If I want a journal with my cat’s face on it? They can do that. Making good on my threat to immortalize all my godson’s funny sayings into a book that will follow him around until he’s 80? Done. The possibilities, they are endless.

Minted Giveaway

So, here comes the fun part: I’m giving away $50 to Minted. I KNOW, RIGHT? All you have to do is leave a comment telling me what you’d buy from Minted. Are you a journal hoarder like me? Are you a lined paper, graph paper, or blank paper person? Or are you more of a card person? Maybe you need new business cards or need party decorations (you guys, they totally have that too). Whatever it is, I’m dying to know. No, seriously. I want to know. You have until next Sunday, June 9th to enter.

Super fun disclaimer: I was gifted with a Minted credit, but was not compensated in any other way. All opinions and inappropriate feelings towards bound paper are my own.

Won’t You Come See About Me

Stealing this from Emily who stole it from somebody who stole it from somebody else and we’re all just a bunch of thieves, okay?

The hair and I are still getting acquainted. You know what you forget when your hair is long? How much of it you have. I know that sounds ass backwards, but when my hair is long a good 70% of the time I’m just throwing it in a ponytail. Now, I’m forced to deal with all of it. It’s also stupidly thick, despite the fact that she thinned the hell out of it. Also, thank you all you lovely complementary people. I’m 99% sure the next time I go in I’ll be going full pixie.

Also, I went to the doctor yesterday and scrapped the meds I was on because every single side effect that they could have? I HAD. Plus, it was just not working. We are now team Lexapro. Which thankfully, since I don’t have any sort of insurance, is super cheap. So, appendages crossed that it works. You know, if you’re into that sort of thing.

So, on to 48 things you didn’t care to know, but I’m forcing you to learn anyway. Weeee!

1. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?
My middle name, Rebecca, is for my mom’s sister, my aunt Becky who died when she was a teen. I was also almost named Golnar after my dad’s sister, who also died when she was young, before they settled on Shireen.

2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED?
3am Saturday. See aforementioned non-working antidepressants.

3. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING?
Eh, every now and then.

4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT?
Turkey.

5. DO YOU HAVE KIDS?
If I say George Weasley, will this seal my #foreveralone status?

6. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON, WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU?
At this moment in time? Eh, probably not. (Wompwomp, I know)

7. DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT?
What is this sarcasm you speak of?

8. DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS?
Yes? I honestly don’t know the answer to this, but I’m going to assume I’d remember if someone had taken them from me.

9. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP?
There is a part of me that wants to say yes. But there is another part that freaks the fuck out if I have to park at the top of a parking garage that says hell no. I did jump off a bridge and I have cliff jumped before, so. There’s that.

10. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL?
Multi-grain Cheerios. One of every kind, you can’t go wrong.

11. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF?
That seems like an awful lot of extra work.

12. DO YOU THINK YOU ARE STRONG?
I don’t want to brag, but I did beat my 6 year old godson finger wrestling the other day.

13. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM?
Mint chocolate chip.

14. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE?
Are they wearing anything I would like to wear?

15. RED OR PINK?
Red. According to my mother, it’s my color. You know, the color of whores.

16. WHAT IS THE LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF?
You want me to pick one thing? That’s adorable.

17. WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST?
Sappy answer: my grandma Mimi who died when I was seven. By all accounts the lady was awesome and it sucks that I didn’t get to know her better. Non-sappy answer: NSYNC. Boys, it’s reunion time.

18. WHAT IS THE TECHNIQUE THAT YOU NEED TO WORK ON THE MOST?
Being a human.

19. WHAT COLOR SHOES ARE YOU WEARING?
Brown Kalso Earth Prance boots. Bless you Zulily.

20. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE?
Giantass blueberry muffin. The only place blueberries have any business being.

21. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW?
HANDS UH-UH-UH UP! I PUT MY HANDS UH-UH-UH UP!

22. IF YOU WERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE?
Black. *whispers* like my heart. Or to steal Em’s answer, grass green.

23. FAVORITE SMELLS?
Honey suckle, the rain, chlorine from an indoor pool.

24. HOW IMPORTANT ARE YOUR POLITICAL VIEWS TO YOU?
Very.

25. MOUNTAIN HIDEAWAY OR BEACH HOUSE?
Both, please and thank you.

26. FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH?
Swimming and college basketball

27. HAIR COLOR?
Brown.

28. EYE COLOR?
Brown. It’s all very monotone up on my head.

29. DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS?
False. I am highly opposed to sticking my fingers in my eyes on purpose.

30. FAVORITE FOOD?
Persian. Hands off my tahdig.

31. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS?
Happy endings? That’s adorable. Scary movies all the way.

32. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED?
Pitch Perfect. Please, hide your shock. Although, sadly I don’t own it yet.

33. WHAT COLOR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING?
Black. *whispers* like my heart

34. SUMMER OR WINTER?
Fall.

35. FAVORITE DESSERT?
My Aunt Connie’s apple pie.

36. STRENGTH TRAINING OR CARDIO?
Cardio, but please know that I need at least two other people to be there so I can be shamed into actually doing more than three minutes.

37. COMPUTER OR TELEVISION?
I can watch tv on my computer. Your mind is blown, right?

38. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW?
The Twelve by Justin Cronin.

39. WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD?
What’s a mouse pad?

40. FAVORITE SOUND?
Rain against my window. The slap of the water from a flip-turn. My godson’s giggle.

41. FAVORITE GENRE OF MUSIC?
All of them. Except country. Your dog died. Your wife cheated on you and then left you. Your car broke down. WE GET IT. Also, T-Swift, the ear terrorist.

42. WHAT IS THE FARTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME?
Iran, but it’s been far too long since I left the country. Hell, it’s been far too long since I left the state.

43. DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT?
Super special powers of womp.

44. WHERE WERE YOU BORN?
Indianapolis.

45. WHERE ARE YOU LIVING NOW?
Indianapolis.

46. WHAT COLOR IS YOUR HOUSE?
Depends on the room. Yellow in the living room, green in the bathroom, purple in the bedroom.

47. WHAT COLOR IS YOUR CAR?
White. And no, Jessica, it’s not racist.

48. DO YOU LIKE ANSWERING 48 QUESTIONS?
I think the better question is did you like reading 48 questions?

Shock Me Shock Me Shock Me With That Deviant Behavior.

So, 2013. That’s a thing now.

Internets, I have to be honest. I am not well. Mentally, physically, just all of it. I’ve been sick as a dog the past week. Working six days a week finally caught up with me and my body was all, “NOPE” and knocked me on my ass. I won’t lie, spending a few days in bed burrowed under my down comforter and with a pushy purring cat next to me was not the worst thing to ever happen. Although I could have done without the hacking cough and fever. I can power through most things, but a fever? It’s the one thing guaranteed to take me out.

Mentally, well I’m still working on getting on the right meds and it’s taking all my strength to hang in there until it happens. Good hell, but I forgot how exhausting getting on the right antidepressant is. I feel like I’ve been hanging by a thread for months now and there’s a part of me that just wants that thread to snap. That it’ll be easier to fall and worry about the pieces later. It’s tenuous, my relationship with that little thread, but for now we’re both holding strong.

Well, enough with the heavy onto the fun.

You see, I got kind of a badass Christmas gift this year.

I was waiting until I had a better photo of it, but what with the Sick and the Tired and the Lazy, well it could be awhile before I drag out my tripod and take a decent non phone version.

This was the inspiration. I told Dina I what I liked about it, that I wanted to be able to cover it with a t-shirt and that I wanted a moose for my godson & his mama and I wanted to add “cordoza” for her. She drew it right on my shoulder with a marker and we only had to tweak it once. Girl is crazy talented.

I may add to it in the future. I may fill it with bright, bold colors. But for now it’s perfect. It’s exactly what I wanted and one of these days I’ll take a photo of it to do it justice.

How was your Christmas, Internets? Did you do anything fun on New Years? Because I sat my happy ass on my couch with my cat, my knitting, and the Vampire Diaries.