Resuscitation

Resuscitation

“How vain it is to sit down to write when you have not stood up to live.”― Henry David Thoreau

Netflix ate my life today. That is my fault because I let it. I had the best of intentions. I was going to get up, go to a coffee shop with a friend, spend my day writing, and then go to CG. But…my bed was so comfortable. And Netflix. And I just was not feeling it. It being absolutely anything that might involve me doing more than the messy bun I’m still sporting or doing anything that might make me sweat. Sorry, Ryan Gosling…wouldn’t even rally for you today, sir. And so, Netflix ate my life.

But, my bud Thoreau up there speaks the truth. Who the hell gives a shit about my life if I don’t do anything worth writing about? I mean, really?

So, it’s time for me to voice some new commitments to myself. Let me clear: these are not resolutions. These are just goals for a better me. Some of them build on life improvements I have already been making (I’ll write more later about the past year and a half I spent with a focus on fitness). But, I do not want to view them as resolutions since those have a long standing global reputation for being quickly broken and quickly shrugged off. So, maybe that’s just mental semantics on my part, but whatever…

My plans range from fulfilling little desires I’ve had (which sounds way more risque than it is) to pushing myself outside my comfort zone.

Without further ado:

Beauty

Liz Taylor once said, “Pour yourself a drink, put on some lipstick, and pull yourself together.” Her words speak to a few of my new beautifying projects. (Although the drink part also brings to mind my intention to develop a taste for whiskey…)

First up? Moisturize! Seriously. I want to keep my skin looking fresh. I use facial moisturizer, and it really does pay off. I can tell the difference between when I’m using it and when I’ve been too broke to buy more. However, the rest of my bod deserves the same treatment. Plus, in the summer, moisturizing ensures you keep a golden glow longer. I don’t spend a lot of time in the sun (it’s hot, sweaty, and damages the skin), so when I do, I want its positive effects to last. And when it’s not summer, I just don’t want to look dried out. So, goal? This week, I’m buying that spray lotion. I think St. Ive’s makes it?

Anyway. Small goal, but that’s happening.

Also, I am going to a makeup counter (and soon!) to get a good quality red lipstick. I’ve bought red lipstick before from the drug store, but I never wear it much. It all ends up to pink or too orangey. I have not found the right shade. That is a look I definitely want to try out. Plus…I need to know…do you really need the lip liner too? Get ready Lancome. We have a date.

Fitness

I have a guilty conscience. I feel guilty every time I don’t go to the gym or I skip CG. I joined CG a month or so ago because my former trainer got me to sign up. I have been twice. In my defense, for some of that first month I was out of town due to a death in the family. Then, I got busy at work. Etc. Etc. Etc.

The excuses start and I. FEEL. SO. GUILTY. Ugh. I worked so damn hard to get where I am at. I dropped 2-3 jean sizes. I have muscles I have NEVER had in my life. I did all of that by having a trainer. That was really good for me because my fitness self discipline is so not great. I was so out of shape when I started. I do not want to go back to that, but it is hard to motivate myself to go to the gym on my own. And, CG is another story. It is A LOT of cardio. When I was training, I did a lot of weight type strengthening exercises. I like that better.

BUT…I have a contract with CG for a few more months, so time to get my lazy arse in gear.

And, I need to up my game. I want to keep the butt I earned.

Game plan–

CG at least 2X per week. Hit the gym twice a week (leg day, arm day). Run at least once per week.

Dating

After Houdini (more on him later), I have not dated too much. I am on a couple of sites, but my heart has not been it. This fall, my family had two losses. I haven’t been in the mood to smile and small talk for an hour with someone who is a total stranger.

I put a lot of work into my job and life goals, but my love life could use a bit more of my attention. So, I vow…I will date at least one NEW dude per month/every other week.All that emailing and stuff takes up a lot of precious time. So, the time table may be adjusted accordingly. Now, this does not mean that I cannot date a guy(s) I may have already gone out with. Until one of these dates progresses to a monogamous relationship, it will be my mission to go out with another new guy.

Adventure

Once a month, I will try something I haven’t done before. I’m not sure yet what exactly this will look like, but it allows for spontaneity. (Yes, I’m aware of the irony in that statement.)

I got a taste of this last fall when I started kickboxing. I actually really like it. It’s challenging, but it makes me feel pretty kick ass. I’m excited/terrified of this challenge for myself. I think that makes it potentially really good for me. Will I jump out of a plane? Truthfully, I’ve thought about it. And felt like hurling. Or peeing. Or rather, I started thinking about having to pee while jumping…or being so scared my eyes would be shut the whole time…and puking on whoever they strap you to…but I don’t know. Skydiving may be too much of a leap…pun intended. Literally.

Mind & Soul

Looking back on last year, I can see how much I let work wear me down. That’s partly why I let myself succumb to the allure of Netflix. Nothing like a mental escape. However, I should have spent more of those mental vacations in a book. I LOVE literature, but I’ve been neglecting it. I quoted Bradbury in my first post, and this situation is a prime illustration of what he is talking about: “You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.” Stressors be damned! I need to imbibe on books more because words do revive me. Life feel shinier and brighter when I’m reading good books…and when I’m writing.

Write. Write. Write. I will write! I’ve already failed at my original plan to write once a week. But, I feel better when I do! Writing is a little like church for me…I think about it, I push myself to get to it, but after I do, I always feel refreshed and reenergized.

With that being said, I need to get myself to church more. I read the Bible pretty much every night, but I know I need to be more spiritually fed. I need to get it in gear.

Last fall, I began volunteering for two organizations. I have not done a lot since. Like I said, life got a bit tough there for a bit. But, if I can try to volunteer for one of those organizations once per month, I think it will honor the commitment I want to make to them in addition to providing spiritual fulfillment.

That is a whole lot of stuff. If I can do these things, I think I should be able to escape into my Netflix without any hangups. But, I don’t see that happening anytime soon. I’ve got to find Mr. This Month, an adventure of some kind, my abs, a good read, a cushiony pew, some time to breathe…

Oh, and a red lip worthy of Liz Taylor.

Frogs & Princes…But Wait, Let’s Not Insult Amphibians (Part One)

Frogs & Princes…But Wait, Let’s Not Insult Amphibians (Part One)

Lately I find myself mildly horrified at the dating world. Usually, it is because I am still in it at all.

For a while, my single status could definitely bring on a bout of generalized anxiety disorder. However, my grandmother used to tell me that, “it was better to be alone than in bad company.” Well, considering she was a divorcee in 1950’s east Texas while raising an infant son, I do not take her advice lightly.

Truly, the longer I find myself “keeping at it” by giving online dating “one more shot,” the more I find solitude preferable. Seriously, the quality and quantity of bad company available makes celibacy enticing…after all, there’s always Netflix to fill those long, lonely nights.

A discerning reader might be questioning what all the fuss is about? After all, if I am still single, it must be because:

A. I’m physically displeasing to the opposite sex

B. I’m not interesting/ my personality sucks

C. I’m too intimidating for most men

D. I’m too picky

Well, about that…sometimes that tired phrase, “It’s not you, it’s me” may have some truth to it. But, bold as it may be, I can tell you that in the cases that follow, it was most definitely not me, it was soooo them.

1. The “Golden” Boy

Last year, I decided to try an online dating site I had never tried before. I spend a lot of time focusing on work, but I know I need to focus more on my dating life. Thus, I renewed my effort into the foray of online dating. I was on the site less than a day and I was getting a ton of notifications, when this little gem appeared:

Him: Ok umm yeah its Random. Lol but, you were dared to give someone a golden shower and in return received $10, 000 for doing it. Would you chug water and do it, Or probably feel offended for being asked and decline? Umm It’s a legitimate question.

Me: Get a life you disgusting troll.

Him: Actually I’m sure you do things that are to others, seconds I’m pretty sure I do have a life considering you’re the one who’s 31 and single. So that says a lot about your life of having a relationship. But thanks for the advice

My initial response was anything but elegant (the troll line was the result of several revisions). So, being a Christian woman, I reigned in my ire as much as I could. I shouldn’t have responded at all, but my itchy trigger fingers got the best of me. His response? He basically told me that I was old, single, and pathetic. (There’s a pun in here somewhere about being pissed off– I just know it.)

Truthfully, this was the most flagrant and disgusting online dating interaction I have ever encountered. The others have been a little creepy or disconcerting, but never outright gross.

But…to each their own. May he have happiness showered upon him…by someone who had a whole lot of asparagus.

2. Mr. Too Complimentary

I have been accused by friends as being “overly cautious.” I take issue with that. In a world where a woman can be randomly abducted in the Target parking lot or chained up in some sadist’s basement for years on end, I fail to see how being “overly cautious” is a bad thing. When my radar starts going off about a guy, I tend to follow it.

However, in the wake of the overly cautious accusations, I ignored my radar. I put those alarm bells on silent. After all, on paper, Mr. Compliment was a winner: tall, athletic, handsome, and a lawyer.

Seemingly? Yum.

Mr. Compliment and I ran into each other on a couple of dating sites. We would communicate, but we never actually went out. At one point, we even became Facebook friends…still, we had never met (see caution was totally thrown to the wind!).

After a couple of years, we came across each other again. This time, we decided to get coffee. So, we traded numbers. We exchanged a few texts. In his first to me, he conveyed that he hoped I’d had a good weekend. He called me gorgeous. It was after 9 PM (In my experience, when a guy messages after 9, it has never led to any real, substantial relationship). In the mean time, there were still emails going back and forth. In one of them, he mentioned something about cuddling with me. Do you hear the foghorns going off? I sure did. I backed off and let things go silent.

I won’t lie…the silent fade is how I like to let most lack of lift off romances go…meaning, if I have never actually seen you in person and things get weird, my guilt complex gets a day or two of exercise while I let the deafening silence convey my newly ignited disinterest. Truly, this guilt thing could easily be its own article about the ingrained obligation to not be rude so many women feel when rejecting a man, but I digress. Another time, perhaps?

Over the next couple of days (and in the coming weeks), I started to question myself.

Had I been too hasty?

Was I guilty of being “too picky”?

Was I letting a good guy go?

So, I reached out a few weeks later. By that time, I knew I might be too late, but I was kicking myself that I may have been too hasty and dismissed a man that could be a great guy. I had convinced myself that I made a rush to judgment and barred myself from potential happiness.

I was too picky.

I was too cautious.

He responded to my offer of coffee with this:

“I thought you weren’t interested because I thought you were beautiful and wanted to cuddle…”

Wow. He totally nailed it. I inwardly chastised myself. Maybe I am just not used to someone finding me attractive and being so blunt about it.

Still, those little bells were jangling. I decided to deflect with humor:

ME: Well you should prob meet me first. LOL

HIM: You are beautiful with an insane body.

ME: Thanks. But photos can lie. LOL

HIM: Lol…not really…beautiful face, perfect skin, awesome dark hair, nice perky chest, great legs, etc.

HIM: Disagree?

I was so not okay with the turn this conversation had taken. It stopped being complimentary when he mentioned my “perky chest.”

What the hell? This guy had NEVER even met me, but he felt like it was okay to talk about my breasts????

I let things go silent, and I called my best friend, Rachel. Incidentally, in the past, she was one of the people who suggested I might be too overly cautious. Luckily, her instant reaction validated my instincts. She said he sounded like a creeper.

I finally felt justified, but I was still nervous about offending him. But, I defriended him on Facebook anyway, and in the mean time these rolled in following his previous text above:

HIM: Or not.

HIM: And I’ll stop texting 🙂

HIM: And you defriending me… alright, good talk

HIM: Weird

I never responded.

Truth be told, I still feel conflicted about the whole thing. It weirds me out that he started talking about my body in that way. At the same time, I feel like a lot of that may be me– that it is instead a product of my own insecurities. I think that on a lot of levels, I was afraid that he would meet me and be disappointed.

However, I was also scared that I would meet him and wind up at the bottom of some hole putting the lotion in the basket.

Like I said…conflicting emotions.

 

Part Two coming soon…

 

Revived

Revived

I’ve had stories dancing around in my mind waiting to be told. But, I abandoned the initiative to put pen to paper. I used to be better than this. Writing was once a part of my identity. Somehow, I’ve let it go. I always say I want to get back to it, but those words are spoken. Not written—so not truly done.

However, I am lucky because I have people in my life that remember that now neglected part of myself. For two years, Catherine has encouraged me to send in my writing to a well-known site that is actively seeking content. When I talk about how I need to start writing more (or at all), Rachel says, as she has every time before, “yes, you should.” Most recently, my sister Leslie vehemently told me that I just need to do it. She basically told me to make writing a priority.

This blog marks my first step toward reigniting my writer self. Really, I should say reigniting myself. I think words have been lying dormant in me for a while. I have been accused of talking a lot (when I was little, my aunt decided not to adopt another child after she kept me for a week . . . a very chatty week). So, for some, that dormancy may sound much too ludicrous.

Still, I feel I am not living up to my potential.

In Zen in the Art of Writing, Ray Bradbury said, “You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.”

In reality, I’ve let myself become lazy. To clarify, I work very hard at my job, earned my Master’s degree, bought a home, etc. But, I’ve allowed myself to become complacent in the mundane. I don’t push myself like I once did.

That ends now.

I want to start living my life with a less than linear plot line. I want to add some twists. I want to push myself to be the absolute best version of myself.

I want to write about it all: books, dating, fitness, pop culture, politics, anything, and everything in between.

I want to write with abandon, with purpose, feverishly, methodically, outrageously, and succinctly.

I want to immerse myself in this craft that I almost let go. I will devour books. I will read, read, read, so that I can write, write, write. I want to drink in all the words I can, and write down the words that make my world.

I want to be drunk on words.