Come On!

I followed a car to work this morning with a bumper sticker that read “I owe, I owe, so it’s off to work I go.” My first assessment was, “That’s about how it goes.” Then I started to think it was a grim way to look at the productive portion of our lives that require us to go somewhere to gain a paycheck in order to pay for the things we want. I may complain about my student loan company screwing me (which they did but that’s a-whole-nother topic), I may complain that my credit card bill is high, I may even complain about wedding expenses, but it’s not the payment’s fault. Besides I told myself and my readers I was going to try to complain less this year.

I’m the one who got into the mess in order to finish school and have a wedding. I was a stupid late teen and early twenties person who thought she was making all the right choices in life in order to fulfill her dreams. I admit I got carried away with buying groceries and books then forgetting about the payment at the end of the month. I admit I should have trusted the government more and went through them for all my student loans instead of going through a third party. However I’m the one, unfortunately with the help of my fiancé, who needs to buckle down, manage my finances better, and get myself out of debt.

The owner of car in front of me either made some bad financial decision or some company or one screwed him through a stupid mistake of his own more than likely. I will say some people are blindsided and can't help some of the situations their in, but for the most part it can be traced back to the person who owes. 

Then I saw him toss an almost full cigarette out the window. I was upset that he had so little respect for the environment despite the wet and cold it was displaying. After a brief moment, I wondered how much money it would save him if he 1) finished that whole cigarette, got his money’s worth, and deposited it in an ashtray outside work like all the buildings have around here and 2) if he didn’t smoke at all.

In the state of Colorado an average pack of cigarettes costs around $5.96. Now, I'm no math wiz but if he smokes five a day that’s a pack and three thirds a week. We're up to $10.43. For an entire year of him smoking at an even pace (there are some weeks that are more stressful and therefore he’s going to smoke more but let’s keep the math simpler) he has to spend $542.36 to get his fill. And that’s only if he smokes the entire cigarette every time. If, like my sis-in-law who quit before going to California, he smokes only half per time that’s half the cost ($271.18) but not if he’s tossing the other half out the window! Don’t get me started on his health bills.

If he were to give up that nasty habit he would save himself around two (on average) car payments or a little more than a mortgage payment per year, maybe more depending on that credit score. I wanted to stop and pick up that cigarette and follow him directly to his work place and say, “Hey, mister you dropped something!” But alas I didn’t. I myself was running behind. I am ashamed for not making a direct point. I’m not sure he would have absorbed the message in the first place. He didn’t even know where to turn for his workplace (it was another mile after he first put his turn signal on).

If you’re going to complain for all the world to see about having to go to work simply because you owe someone or some company don’t go around throwing money away. It looks bad.

I got the average pack price here you can check out how much your state is spending on average, too.

Where'd they all go?

So, for the past year and a half I’ve been trying to get to the gym more often. At first I was stupidly nervous about exercising in public, my fiancé got me Wii Fit. Then I didn’t feel I was qualified to exercise on my own, let alone in public. THEN I felt that if I was at home I was at home. I didn’t want to go anywhere.

December changed all that. I started to push myself more, to get dressed at work and head straight there, to explore the many options of equipment that the rec center offers, and to just do it – I apologize for the cliché.

Is this because I’m getting married in a strapless number in a matter of ¡129! days? Maybe. It is also in response to a condition I was diagnosed with last year. It practically demands I be healthy or fall into a pit of ugliness that I just don’t want to talk about this time around.

That being said, it never ceases to amaze me that hordes of people will resolve to get fit. They make a fist and swing their crooked arm to say they will have gumption this year beginning every 1^st of January. Yet by mid to late February that gumption is capital-g Gone. I understand that struggle. I swam and was in the marching/ orchestra band in high school (secondary school to you un-Americans). It was because of my timidness that I didn’t try out for the WVU band. Tryouts were/are capital-s Scary. I wanted to be in the Notables, the “glee club,” but I didn’t have enough guts to even tell someone to gain the confidence to even try. I haven’t been in a pool since my first apartment with my then-neighbor-now-best-friend. The goal was to take laps. That didn’t happen. There were a lot of kids there. That means I haven’t swam laps in an actual pool since 2004. O.O

Trying is hard. Trying in public, doubly so. But if all these people tried for three weeks, which by the crowds they do, in theory they would be hooked on going. When I go and really work at it I want to stay. When I leave my lungs actually feel twice as big – completely opposite what it was in high/ secondary school – and I feel I can take over the world, Pinky. The tiredness that occurs around 9 or 10 is capital-a Amazing. I look better and I want to eat better (unless it’s an indulgence day – which should be a healthy part of any diet). I want to be a better person, do more with my life, fill as much of my day as I can. I want to pick my flute back up and regain my expertise in that field, alongside gaining more. Research in this area has come up short and suggestions are implored.  

I want to swim, but again guts and scheduling conflicts. Who wants to get up at 5 to go swimming? ME! but, alas, I still punch my screaming alarm and sleep for another hour or so every day. Maybe one day I’ll get the confidence to be the weirdo, get up long before anyone in the house does, and go to the gym to swim or just get my exercising done for the day. I know I’ll be better for it. But until that day I sit a work waiting for that clock to strike 8 ½ hours after I waltz myself through the doors to leave and purposefully get tired.

If I have any advice for anyone – of which I am a well, just ask – it is to get a membership to your local recreation center. Mine is only 7 minutes driving time from the far reaches of our city/county and offers LOTS of programs. From cycling, yoga and tae bo classes to rock wall, swimming and plenty of equipment to satiate any level of exerciser.  They even have kiddie things to keep the little rug rats occupied so parents can have that ever precious “me time.” The prices are very fair and mine at least has payment options. This helps remind me every month that I need to make my $29 worth my while. Even if your local rec center isn’t up to par join anyway. It will help your community and that rec center get better.

Merry Upcoming New Year!

As seen in my previous who-knows-how-many-posts, I haven’t had the best year in the world, but, here’s to a better 2012.

 I’m getting married. I get to see numerous people I haven’t in years. I might even get to go on a Vacation. O.O My resolution this year is to simply try harder. This encompasses almost every aspect of my life. I’m going to try harder to be a better person, a better partner to my fiancé, try to not complain as much, have a better health perspective, to have a better attitude in general. I also want to be a better blogger for anyone who has, is and will read my posts.

I know that not everything is going to work out for me. That’s what failing is for. I just need to grow from it. I want feedback in all I do, that’s the only way I know what I’m doing wrong and right.

I have an idea swimming around in my head of starting up a YouTube channel. If/when that happens I’ll let you know. I just feel really intimidated putting more of me out there but I started writing this blog, so, why not try? As Maureen Johnson said on the Vlogbrothers channel one time, “You have to dare to suck.” (Best advice in the world!)

In order to become a better anything you have to try and in trying comes failure some, if not most, of the time. Without failure there is no learning. I enjoy putting things together simply because I’m allowed to screw up, undo it, and put it together the right way or in a better way.

Back when I first moved to Colorado I started to write my book again. It was my second attempt to streamline my conscious effort to put it on the computer. I believe I was on the fifth or sixth chapter when the most horrific thing that could ever happen to an author happened. Up popped a message, randomly after a stroke of a couple keys, asking if I would like to save my progress. I said, “Yes, of course I want to save my progress, this is one of the most important things to me. Why wouldn’t I want to save?” Little did I know I was saving a completely blank document.

Lacking in technical expertise (still am but not as much) I closed the page and tried to reload my work. It was completely gone. Not to be recovered ever again. It was gone to the pit of despair. Wherever I banished it, it was gone forever. I cried. Seriously I walked into my bedroom fell face down on my comforter and wept until I called my now fiancé.

Now I see that without that failure, however stupid it was, I would never have learned a few wonderful lessons. One, that I need to make sure of what I’m doing before I close anything I’m working on. Two, that version of my book absolutely sucked. If I had continued typing it without that loss I would never have wanted to change it because I had worked so hard on it.

John Green wrote Looking for Alaska and then proceeded to delete the great majority of it in order to make it better. Writing is a process. It requires a great amount of commitment and concentration. And for those of you who have made it this far, thank you. Thank you for reading my processes.

“Books don’t automatically update.” ~John Green.

Happy New Year! And DFTBA!

Where is Christmas?

I know I’ve been complaining a lot in the past few months. I have a lot to be thankful for. This was the year I finally found a doctor who could pinpoint what was wrong with me. My fiancé and I finally set a date. My family is finally starting to accept him as a part of my life.

Despite all that wonderful news that happened this year has absolutely sucked.

My sister-in-law became diagnosed with more health problems than we ever foresaw and is having complications from the treatment(s). Both matriarchs in my family died, devastating my existence. My fiancé’s grandparent’s had to face being placed in assisted living with his grandmother deteriorating even more every day. One of his aunts is having major health problems that have not been eradicated because of other complications with the same illness. Our friends have had to deal with sudden deaths and complications and many other problems that I can’t help but feel stressed for them.

On top of it all it just doesn’t feel like Christmas.

In the past I’ve put up a tree just after my birthday in anticipation of the season. I’ve wrapped presents with glee awaiting the joy that gift will bring to someone’s face in that moment and the enjoyment it will bring throughout their lives. I’ve sung along with Christmas carols while baking goodies.

This year the only tree I have, so far, is a humble Charlie Brown tree I got for my birthday that is sitting on a makeshift table in the basement where I live. I haven’t heard any Christmas songs other than the ones within South Park specials on Netflix. I haven’t made anything in terms of traditional treats of the season. The fairy lights up around town don’t spark my wonderment and exhilaration. I keep expecting it to come out of nowhere and hit me like a ton of bricks. I want it to. I want to feel wonderful and gleeful and thankful for everything I have (it’s not that I don’t it just hasn’t come as a natural response to the season).

Is it because I know my family won’t be gathering in response to Grandma’s cooking? Is it because there seems to be a culmination of stressful things that have preoccupied my mind? Is it from the fact that I’ve been thinking of all the chores that comes from putting a wedding together? Is it because I’ve turned into a complete and utter adult from my experiences this year? Have I lost my belief in magic?

Harry Potter has always been some part of my Christmas season since the late 1990s. There’s no book eight to look forward to, there’s no more movies waiting to be released. Is this depression the result of my lack of having a new adventure to follow from Harry, Ron, and Hermione? I’ll even take an adventure from their children entering Hogwarts.

Whether it be from the stress or lack of feeling a part of an all-around respectful, loving family or not having my best friend in the form of a book I just don’t feel in the holiday spirit. There’s still snow on the ground and even combined with lights almost everywhere and the decorations that are at my fiancé’s work Christmas just doesn’t seem to even exist for me this year.

My obsession with words and meanings

Okay, Okay, I know it’s been a while.

I was writing the second installment of my book when I decided to use the word ‘befuddled.’ It was a genuinely perfect word for the situation that arose but I then stared at it in all its glory and thought to myself, “What would happen if ‘befuddle’ had some archaic meaning that I don’t know?”

As in all situations like this I strolled on over to my one stop shop for words: dictionary.reference.com (not paid to type that, I just REALLY like their site). I typed in ‘befuddle’ and got a nice definition. It means either to confuse or make drunk. Then I thought, “what about fuddle? Is that even a word?

IT IS!

I’m such a dork.

It means the exact same thing! I thought it was such an underappreciated term that I changed my befuddle into fuddle, just to be quirky. I wonder what my-nonexistent-at-this-time publisher will think of that when s/he comes across that.

Tootles!

That’s also an odd word. I wonder…

http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/tootles

JLS

Casually. That’s how I met you in the first place. We were bunk mates at camp. I, at least, instantly knew there was something more than just friendship in the way we opened to one another.

Since the age of seven I know I looked forward to every summer. It wasn’t just the fun I had every year but I looked forward to seeing you again. I thought you lived somewhere completely different from me, miles and miles away.

It wasn’t until eighth grade when we both joined the same high school band. It was like those summers could be extended. Life just got so much better. Then, to make it all better, we ended up playing the same instrument.

We became inseparable. We had almost every class together every semester, every year, with few exceptions. We always made sure we had the same lunch, the same general friends.

Life could not get much better. It was like you were the sister I never had and always wanted. You had so much insight. You were the first person to read a line out of my book after I revised it from middle school. I took your advice. We went prom dress shopping together. Your first major boyfriend was my first major boyfriend’s best friend.

We went through so much together.

What happened?

When we went to Florida with the band it was like you were a totally different person.

I was waiting for you and the rest of the group exactly where I said I would be.

That was the worst semester of my life. We were supposed to go to college together. There were so many things we were supposed to do together. You started dating a guy I had never heard of. You started ignoring me. And I you.

What happened?

Did all those years really not matter to you? After all that pain, after all these years I still look for you on Facebook.

Casually. That’s how I discovered you’ve been on there for some time with a lot of the same friends as me. What should I do? Ignore all that time we spent together?

Now I have the best friend I ever could have in my Fiancé. I don’t really need you. But why do I feel like I need to be friends with you on Facebook, some internet social club?

Why do I still feel this way after all these years?

Feminine things

I’ve never been much of a girly girl. My fiancé will dispute this, no doubt, but I just don’t consider myself as a pink wearing O.M.G!! type person. HOWEVER, I have rekindled my love of wearing makeup. I wore more of it in the past few days than I had in, I would say, a year. Everyone who knows me knows I don’t wear makeup regularly. It’s only on special occasions and such. In high school I wore it quite a bit, every day in fact.

Then I also wore my boots that were, in high school, dubbed “hooker boots.” Yeah, thanks for getting me in trouble with my mom when describing them, XBF. Now other than the box toe they are still really cute and awesome to wear downtown with the girls. (Another thing I don’t normally do.)

Yes, I’m an introvert. I love reading. I love to write (although for the past week or so that has been mostly for work). I love being myself even if that means that I like having the house to myself to clean or watch TV that happened a long time ago in terms of this new fast paced age. (I mean, if I’m going to be addicted to something would you prefer the above or the alternative? That’s what I thought.)

Anyway, being this person who wears makeup and heels made me feel…girly…and I kind of liked it. So much so that I’m wearing the really cute poke-a-dot shoes with the blood read heel.

You know you want a pair.

Should I do this more often? I know I really should for my self-confidence but at the same time I don’t exactly have the funds to support this habit as of yet. Then I don’t want to be a conformist, if you will. If I wear makeup and look like all the other women around me am I still going to be who I want to be: a plain faced, no product in my hair, novel writing crazy person? Or is it that I can wear heels still without the makeup? Does that work? Geez, I’m out of the loop.

Oh, by the way! I’m a part of writersmarketplace.com now. I just have to print off sample chapters and send it to quite a few publishers and keep my fingers crossed. Then hopefully not sob when the rejection mail comes.