Monday, August 24, 2015

A Picture of Procrastination




First, I've not posted anything in months. This is no good. I have made no progress on my novel. Take heart, loyal readers! School is about to begin and I have plans. I will be going to my parents' house to write, so that I don't get as distracted. 

Now, the picture. 

I, like many other parents, loathe the inordinate amount of toys in my home. It's not just the big toys, it's the pieces to the big toys. It's the Barbie clothes, the accessories to the Octolab, the fake food for the play kitchen (which, let's face it, is really only used when Doug crams himself into the oven). 

Like any good mother, I turn into a dragon after tripping over these things for the umpteenth time. I yell, curse (under my breath, on a good day), stomp around. I threaten to throw everything out. I call my husband at work and curse at him about all the flinging-flanging toys. 

So about a week ago, I had enough. To my credit, I didn't go full dragon. I focused my energy on the broken toys and I filled two garbage bags with broken toys, garbage and other detritus. 

But, like any good human, my efforts to de-clutter often hit a snag. The biggest snag for me is perfectionism. 

Enter these toys. The one on the left is a puzzle piece Jeremy smuggled out of the Algonquin library three or four years ago. Yes. I have held onto this puzzle piece. I have had all intentions of returning it to the library. I keep finding it and saying to myself, "next time I go to the Algonquin library..."

Yeah. Now it just taunts me. And even worse, I feel guilty for wanting to throw it away. So every time I come across it, I sigh with disappointment at myself and toss the darn thing back in the toy box!! For shame! 

The pig is another relic. I think Bekah snuck it into my diaper bag after an open gym at Elite Kids three years ago. Same exact story as the dinosaur

I have been meaning and meaning to return it, really. We went to an open gym last year (maybe, but probably a year and a half ago). I walked in and cursed under my breath for not having brought it. And yet...I just keep tossing it into the toy box. 

The struggle is real! I have wanted to write a dozen different times, but have been stymied by what people might say or think about what I write. I have been afraid of being judged for my opinions and insights. So I have handcuffed myself and thrown away the key. I keep hoping that I will have the desire to go sit in the office by myself and write. Because the desire hasn't hit, I don't write. I know better. I know how to have discipline and I am a bit ashamed of myself. 

Here's the thing. I won't be 100% better, that's not realistic. So I'm going to aim for 2% better. From there, it can only go up. 

And for the love, I am tossing those flinging-flanging toys. 

I'm back, bitches. 

Saturday, April 11, 2015

Updates

I am sorry that it's been such a long time since my last post. Over our spring break, I contracted a nasty strain of strep throat that knocked me down for almost the whole week. This is going to be a short post. My alarm is going off in about 6 hours. I am running my first race since August (early September? I can't remember exactly). It's a 10K (6.2 miles). I've been stressing about it, even though I know I can run the distance, because I've not run that far this year yet.

All the same, I know I can run it. It's a tough course, I have been made aware of that. The blessing is, as was just pointed out to me, that since I've never run a 10K before, whatever my time is tomorrow will be my PR!!! Yippee! That, for some reason, makes it all better.

Meanwhile, I broke down and called the library this week. I hadn't heard about the poetry contest and wanted to see when the winners would be contacted. I found out that the winners won't find out whether they've won until the ceremony on the 20th of this month. So the hope remains.

I also had said I would post the finished product (after several revisions). A big thank-you goes out to Cristina Cabrera, a former classmate (now English teacher at Elgin High School), whose feedback was invaluable.

In other news, my novel is now up to 70+ pages. I discovered Google docs (yep, I'm so lame when it comes to technology) and realized I could put my novel, in a Google doc, onto my phone. My dad (who is several years older than me but much more tech-savvy) told me to also install Google drive, which I did. I have been working feverishly on it at odd intervals. I am gaining good momentum. I am doing my best to not edit as I write. I have a lot to resolve in the revisions, but ultimately you can't edit that which is unwritten. I have a very good idea of how the rest of the novel will progress. I will continue to post updates as I get closer to finishing.

Here are the final drafts (or, the drafts that were submitted to the contest) of the poems I wrote. Enjoy.

(I will apologize in advance for the italics. It's a weird quirk of Google lately to italicize everything.)

Growing Up

His daughter was difficult, firstborn. Teachers called her
sensitive, scheduled conferences.
She quivered about friendship,
boys, her feelings. Ill-fitting and scratchy, life pinched and clung to her.
Suicide almost stole her away.
He watched her,
helpless,
his heart straining.
Growing up was difficult
for her
to watch.
Awkward, wings deformed, she looped
away to college--new friends, new
opportunities.
Alcohol drenched her feathers, plummeted
his hopes
her potential.
His hair grayed; she fought the demon
Alcohol, almost lost
everything.
His heart dried up, hope leaking
through broken promises.
She clawed up
from the morass
from the destruction
she had heaped on herself.
Watching her, hope burrowed back
into his overstretched heart.
Potential peeked out, crocus petals
in soil thawed
after a long, bracing winter.
Years later, she was married, pregnant
With hope,
the first grandchild.
Skeins burst when overfilled, he pondered.
In the hospital room he rounded
the bed, laid eyes on the mewling
new
helpless
form next to her.
A thousand beams spilled out
onto cheeks wrinkled
from laughter
from worry.
His grandson is beautiful, his eyes declare,
everyone's best in a new skein,
supple and pliable.
His daughter in tears, he reflects that growing up
has agreed with her. Sensitive became an asset, wings healed.
Demons exorcised, opportunity
stretches
into the horizon

into the heart of his new grandson.

Words

Words sprout me gossamer wings,
erupt
me into the sky. Silvery and translucent over my back,
crisp air sweeps my breath.
My fingers brush
clouds, wispy and damp on my fingertips. Sun blazes, searing
through my closed eyelids.
Words plummet me to Earth,
anchor
me to the sand, chains
around my neck. Nails break off as I claw, choking
on fear, failure. I vomit loss
of opportunity, of love. Bile burns
tears from my eyes, agony washes
over my face. Mistakes reverberate,
ugly and hollow like rotted logs.
Words quiver my lover’s skin,
anticipation
waking desire.
My lips breeze his ear,
willowy promises reaching down his spine.
Words drip red from my chin;
I crouch over my victims’
spoils.
Tearing flesh, words work jagged teeth
across felled friends.
A forest lies in my wake, decay sweet I
lift my nose, spit derision, move
toward the horizon.


Monday, March 16, 2015

Old Words, New Poetry

I love to write, I know I've said it before. I am working (very slowly) on a novel. Meanwhile, I have been working on what I'd like to call the frazzled mom's novel-poems. I am entering a poetry contest at my local library. The due date is this coming Saturday. Surprisingly, I have been working on my poems for at least three weeks. That usually doesn't happen. I live on procrastination.

Last week was insane. I was way overscheduled and it led to poor sleep, extra stress and emotional hangovers. I knew that my reward for getting through last week was working more intensely on my poems.

My high school creative writing teacher is the voice in my head, even to this day. She was the one who taught me that writing is really about re-writing, about editing and word choice and the like. I am including two poems in this post. They are the two poems I'm submitting to the contest.

The first poem is on the third draft. I am hoping to get to the tenth draft before Saturday (when the poems are due). The second poem is going to be forged in a wine press of limited time. It's just the first draft.

My plan is to re-post the poems when I submit them. Then, for all the geeks out there, they can see the evolution of my work. (I'm positive I can count on my one hand the people that want to do that.)

In any case, Here they are.

Words
by Susan Carbajal
Words sprout me gossamer wings,
Erupt
Me into the sky. Silvery and translucent over my back,
Crisp air sweeps my breath.
My fingers brush
Clouds, wispy and damp on my fingertips. Sun blazes, searing
Through my closed eyelids.

Words plummet me to Earth,
Anchor
Me to the sand, chains
Around my neck. Nails break off as I claw, choking
On fear, failure. I vomit loss
Of opportunity, of love, bile
Burns the tears from my eyes, agony washes
Over my face. Mistakes reverberate
Between my ears, ugly and hollow like rotted logs.

Words quiver my lover’s skin,
Arrows
To his heart, anticipation waking desire.
My lips brush his ear, words breeze over,
Willowy promises reaching down his spine.

Words drip from my chin, red
As I crouch over my victims’
Spoils.
Tearing flesh, words work jagged teeth
Across felled friends.
A forest lies in my wake, decay sweet
I lift my nose, spit derision, move
Toward the horizon.

Words soothe, a calming balm
On wounds
Hidden
Under sarcasm, quick wit. My heart strains
As infection festers
away from prying eyes.
Silent, my heart slows it’s beat, crushed
under the weight
Of words.


The second poem I would like to dedicate to my dad. He is absolutely my #1 fan, my biggest cheerleader and the person voted most likely to cry when he reads this. I love you, daddy. You mean the world to me and I am grateful that you are so full of love for my babies.

Growing Up
by Susan Carbajal
She was a difficult child. Teachers called her
Sensitive, scheduled conferences.
Suicide almost took her life. He watched her, helpless,
His heart throbbing in pain where she had pierced it.
Growing up was difficult
For her.
To watch.
Awkward, she struggled to fly
Away to new friends, new
Opportunities.
She left for college, potential swelling
In front of her, fear awash in her wake.
His hair grayed as she fought the demon
Alcohol, almost lost
Everything.
His heart dried up, empty
From hope lost through small leaks.
Small slivers burrowed back in
As she clawed up
From the mire,
From the destruction
She had wielded over herself.
Years passed and his heart grew
Back, softened
By new potential, spring
After things lie dead and dormant.
Pregnant
With hope
With the first grandchild, 
he feared
That his heart had reached capacity.
In the hospital room he rounded
The bed, laid eyes on the mewling
New
Helpless
Form next to her.
A thousand beams, birthed
From the seeds of hope dropped
On fertile soil,
Tear at his heart, spill out
Onto cheeks wrinkled
From laughter
From worry.
His grandson is beautiful, his eyes declare,
The best of everyone contained in a new
Skein, supple and pliable.
His daughter in tears, he reflects that growing up
Has agreed with her. Sensitive has moved
From liability to asset.
Demons have been conquered, opportunity
Stretches
Into the horizon

Into the heart of his new grandson.


I feel like poetry is akin to sculptors working in clay, marble, etc. The artists say that the sculpture is there and it's just their job to chip away at all the parts that don't belong. I feel like it's the same way with poems. It's all there, I just have to make sure there aren't words getting in the way.

And now the worst part of writing and (eek!) putting it on the interwebs. I have to sit and wait, my heart pounding, to see what people think about it. (Because obviously I don't know what to think about it unless other people tell me. That's not entirely true but I am very suggestible.)

Thursday, March 12, 2015

A Beautiful Gift in (God's) Perfect Time

I am seldom at a loss for words. It just doesn't happen. The gift God heaped on me was using words and so it's very rare that I find myself unable to form words. 

I am happy to report that this just happened earlier this evening. 

Let me lay the groundwork.

Anyone who reads my blog regularly knows that this winter just knocked it all out of me. Like everything--all my hope, all my sanity, all my health. All the meters were on zero at one point. My attendance at my Thursday activities (MOPS and Bible study) has been spotty at best. Really, I've made it to less than half of all of the meetings, either because I or my kids were sick.

One of the times I made it to Bible study, back in January, I was death-metal angry with God. I mean, I was lobbing profanity-laced prayers at him. Things had come to a head with Brian's job, our health was awful, my depression was deep and black and seemingly endless. 

I went to this particular Bible study fuming mad. I mean, if I had been a cartoon character, there would have been a black smoke cloud over my head. I was feeling very low. I had hoped that I could keep all of that to myself. I love to use words but I hesitate to use ugly words in front of people who hardly know me. I prefer to try and keep the illusion of my perfection alive for as long as possible. 

I had no intention of letting the dam break that day. I drew an extensive picture in my Bible study binder, I thought ugly things and I sat in the back of the room. 

But God had a plan.

Someone said something and it set me off. The person who said it has been through the wringer, too. She is not in the wringer now, but she has been there. She knows the pain I am feeling. The words she spoke are true for her now, after having been wrung out. She was not being condescending or Christian-y or anything like that. She was speaking God's truth.

It was the straw that broke the camel's back. It felt like the words she spoke were like water on hot coals. I steamed over and let angry words pour out of me. Trust me, they weren't the uncensored version. It was definitely the PG version of the very R-rated rant that had been building in my brain. 

The leader, another wonderful and authentic woman of Christ, asked to pray for me. I angrily said no, because I didn't want the prayers. I didn't want to be comforted, I didn't want to be patted on the back. I wanted to hit something. I wanted to break something. I was foot-stomping, tantrum-throwing mad at God.

That day, before I left (early, before class was even over), one of the women in the study gave me $50. I was so ashamed by that. One of the reasons I never like to share is because I don't want people to think I'm going around with my hand out. I don't like charity. I am grateful for it, oh so grateful, but I don't like it. I don't like being powerless. It feels overwhelming to have people be generous with me. I don't feel like I deserve it.

I wanted to give the money back. The problem was that there was something I had to pay for and it ended up costing (almost exactly) $50 more than I was expecting it to cost. I had to swallow my pride and put the gift down on the counter at the vet's office. 

Since that day in January, my anger and vitriol has mellowed. I am still frustrated by the situations swirling around us. As I told a friend, I am not Pollyanna about the situations, but I'm not so death metal about them anymore. I have been able to make it to MOPS and Bible study, though we still have been dealing with ill health. 

So a month ago, I went to Bible study. I have not been intentional or disciplined about my homework. I started off the year doing pretty well, but with everything that has happened (coupled with the normal activities of life), I have fallen off pretty steeply with it. A month ago, I did complete some of the homework. We were just being done with the stomach flu, so my half-hearted stab at it felt like more than enough effort. 

Two weeks ago, I was starting to battle a sinus/ear infection, so I didn't attend the study. Tomorrow is the next Bible study day. Accordingly, after painting with my girlfriends tonight, I sat down on the couch and opened my binder. 

There was an envelope in the left side of the binder, peeking out above the built-in pocket of the vinyl binder. It was plain and white and had my name written on it in block letters. It was thick and I assumed it was a letter of encouragement. I really didn't have a clue about it's contents. 

It wasn't until I saw the contents of the envelope that I lost the ability to speak. I pulled a stack of 10 $100 bills. I started bawling. Brian was sitting on the other end of our sectional and I looked at him and gestured toward the envelope. I was gobsmacked and could do nothing more than gesture and make random squeaking noises. He seemed a bit annoyed and so I waved him over to see what I was talking about. Then I really lost it, because when he took the money into his hands, it somehow became more real. 

Someone in my Bible study gave my family $1000. Even typing that makes me burst into tears. I don't feel like anything I could write could adequately express my gratitude. I don't feel like words could measure how tremendous a gift this is for my family. It gives us some margin where there hasn't been any. It means that tomorrow, when I go to the store, I can buy all the fresh produce we will need to make it through to next week, rather than just a few apples to fudge our way through. It means my savings will quadruple by the end of the month. I won't have to stop saving in order to afford paying for Bekah's dance class and recital costumes. I can have money set aside for emergencies. 

I am ashamed that I didn't discover the gift until tonight. It means that there was $1000 sitting in my garage, in my untouched binder, for a month. A solid month. I am ashamed that my family needs a gift like this. I am ashamed because I will never be able to thank the people who were so abundantly kind to me. 

But here's the thing. These gracious people, who gifted this to us, were I know following God's prompting. They want to be anonymous because they don't want to take credit for doing something God was calling them to do. To those people, I thank you for listening and responding to God's calling. I know you know how much this means to my family. I know you know how grateful I am for such a generous gift. Earlier today I counted the money I had left for groceries and wasn't sure how it would stretch to cover all we needed. 

It reminded me of a story in 1 Kings 17, where Elijah encounters a widow upon arriving in Zeraphath. He asks her for water and a slice of bread. She is honest with him--she is gathering sticks to go home and use the remaining oil and flour she has to make a meal for herself and her son...and then die. Elijah then says, (v. 13-14, NIV), "Elijah said to her, "Don't be afraid. Go home and do as you have said. But first make a small loaf of bread for me from what you have and bring it to me, and then make something for yourself and your sonFor this is what the LORD, the God of Israel, says: 'The jar of flour will not be used up and the jug of oil will not run dry until the day the LORD sends rain on the land.'"

Whenever I am feeling like there's not enough for groceries, I think about that story. I know that no matter what, there will always be enough. I don't think about that with wants, but I know that our needs will always, always be met. And they always have been. So reading this story is more than just reading words on a page. It's an affirmation for me that what God writes about in the Bible is really true. This is so huge for someone whose faith is low. This has done more than provide for my family financially--it has replenished our faith stores (which were dangerously low) and given us some rest.

Dear readers, please understand something important. God is not a vending machine or Santa Claus. He is not in the business of giving us what we want in the way that we want it. He is in the business of meeting our needs. He is sovereign and knows how best to do that. Frequently, it doesn't look the way we think it should. I have often joked, through our financial struggles, that what I want is a sack of cash on my front porch. God, in his infinite wisdom, knows that this is not the best way to answer our prayers. 

I want to make it so clear that God's provision has been on my family in so many myriad ways over the past seven or so years. It has sometimes been in this way, anonymous gifts of money. More often, though, it is smaller (though not less significant) gifts, of food or toys for the kids or clothes. The gifts have always come just when we needed them, when we were most desperate for a sign that God was still holding us in the palm of His hand.

It's been my hope, through all of this, that God would be given glory for any beautiful thing that comes out of these struggles. I consider all of my children gifts from God, but Doug especially because he was born a month after we had filed for bankruptcy. I don't think there was any better way for God to show us hope than with the birth of our beautiful, crazy boy. This latest gift, then, is all about God. It's not about the person who gifted it. I am not obligated to pay them back, to give an accounting of how I've spent each dime. As it is a gift from God, I am beholden to God about it. I don't have to seek these people out and gush about how wonderful they are; that's not the point of the gift. They don't want me to feel tied to them inexplicably. They don't want me to thank them--they want me to give thanks to God, which is upon whom I will heap the thanks.

Friends, please know that this doesn't solve all our problems. I am not seeing this as the final provision or the resolution of this season of our life. Rather, I see it as further affirmation that God has a plan for our lives. His hand of provision is ever-present, tangible and real. It's not empty words in an old book--it is alive and well, living in the hearts of the people around me who, like me, are Christ-followers in a broken world.

A month ago, things were about the same but our pockets were a bit more padded. This gift would have been just as remarkable back then, but receiving it tonight made it so much easier to see that the gift came straight from God. This doesn't completely assuage my guilt about not doing my bible study homework, but obviously God knew my heart well enough to know that I'd get the gift at the right time.

Kevin Hart was on Conan a while back. He was speaking about his mother, who has supported him wholly in his dream to become a comedian. She told him she would pay for his rent for the first year he was in L.A. Before he left her house, she gave him a Bible. Every month, he would call her and ask her where the rent check was. She would ask if he had been reading his Bible. "Yes," he would say, "but mom, I need that rent check." She just kept telling him to read his Bible. He was so frustrated and fell behind in paying his rent. After a few months of this, he was very close to being evicted. He finally sat down and opened the Bible, only to find that his mom had tucked the rent checks into different pages of the Bible. 

This story takes on such new meaning to me. I have been pleading with God lately, mostly that he would provide the right job and the right conditions for Brian. All along, the answer has always been to study His word more. I am hopeful that I am able to finish strong with this study. I feel a renewed sense of energy and faith in God. I don't know any more of His plan than I did 4 hours ago, when I found the gift. I do, however, have affirmation that God knows the plan and has my family firmly gripped in his powerful hands. 

Please continue to pray for Brian's job search. I will remain hopeful that the right job is out there. God's timing is always perfect, always. He is so good to us. 

Monday, March 9, 2015

Slow and Steady Wins the Race

A couple of weeks ago, a close friend shared that she was overwhelmed. She has been trying to get healthy for some time. The problem, as she sees it, is that there are too many people giving advice. Even more, the advice they give tends to be self-serving.

What I mean is, the people who are trying to help people get healthy are usually selling some kind of shake, powder, pill, meal plan, etc. I do not disagree with my friend. Step over to a Barnes & Noble (remember what those are) or the library and there is a plethora of books available on the subject of getting healthy.

I feel like celebrities are following some invisible protocol whereby they should all release a book on healthy eating or living. Gwyneth Paltrow has done it, as have Cameron Diaz and 50 Cent.

Here's my problem. This friend has some amount of disposable income, so she can decide to embark on a 21-day fix or some such program. I, on the other hand, have no disposable income available for things like that. I work with my fabulous trainer, Kate, and I feel like my money is well-spent with her. Other than that, I try to spend the remaining amount of money I have on healthy foods.

What my friend said was upsetting for me. I got upset because here is a well-educated, talented girl who is just feeling so overwhelmed by All the Things, as she would say. There is just so much information on what to eat, what not to eat, when to eat it, how much to eat, when to work out, what kind of workout is best, etc., etc. It is like swimming in a turbulent ocean and not being able to find your footing.

This all got me thinking. I am by no means an expert in weight loss or nutrition. I have, however, managed to (very slowly) lose about 60 pounds and overhaul my eating in the past three years. As my funds so far have been very limited, I've done most of it while not spending too much money at all. So I decided to make a list of the ten things I've done to lose weight. Most, if not all, require very few resources. I am hoping there are ten, because lists should always have ten things (in my mind, anyway).

So here goes.

1. Drink water. This is, by far, the easiest way to lose weight. Our bodies are made up of mostly water. In general, we are not drinking enough. If you are feeling thirsty, you are already dehydrated. In some cases, your body can mistake the feeling of thirst for the feeling of hunger. This can cause you to eat unnecessarily and inadvertently pack on the pounds. Not sure which one it is? Drink a full 8 ounces of water and wait 20 minutes. If you are still hungry, eat! If not, drink some more water and wait to eat until your next meal. Aim for 8 8-ounce glasses of water. Drink more if you indulge in any pop, coffee or other beverages. (I am currently doing a challenge on Facebook where I am aiming for 80 ounces of water a day. It's kind of nuts, but I am noticing a decrease in my appetite in general and in my craving for sweets.)

2. Put your fork down. Yep, that sounds nuts. The reality is that we tend to eat too fast. In other parts of the world, meals are seen as a gathering, an opportunity for conversations and friendships. Here, however, we tend to shovel our food down as fast as we can--we have things to do! We have to take our kids to All the Places. I get it, I really do. Wednesday nights are rushed around here. I never, ever, start dinner prep soon enough. Like ever. So typically I am wolfing down my meal as I'm getting ready to race Bekah to AWANA. My suggestion is this--during meals that you are able, put your fork down between bites. So simple, I know, but it does a couple of things. First, it allows you to savor what you are eating. You will actually have a chance to enjoy the taste of what you have made. Second, it slows down the process of eating. There is a disconnect between your brain and your stomach. Typically, it takes 20 minutes for the two organs to communicate fullness to one another. If you are eating more slowly, you are giving a chance for your body to tell you that it's full. You will be amazed at how much you will not be able to eat just by doing this. (For extra credit, take a sip of water after every bite. This will also help you feel fuller sooner.

3. Put your phone/iPad/TV program/book down. This correlates with number 2. If you are not paying attention to your food and to the activity of eating, you are going to eat more than you should. Meals (again, when possible), should be a chance for you and your family to connect with one another. Even if you're single, take 15 minutes to eat a meal without distraction. The emails/texts/FB updates will be there for you when you're done. Brian and I started doing this at the beginning of February and it's made a difference in how much we're eating. We actually have leftovers a lot more than we ever did before.

4. Skip takeout. Look, I am ambitious. (And also lack a plethora of disposable income.) I make most of  our family's meals almost every single day. I do plan for leftovers 2-3 times a week, but otherwise I am cooking meals from scratch. Roll your eyes, I know. You have to do All the Things. You can't cook every meal at home. You like the food at Portillo's a lot. Trust me, I get it. I really do. Here's what I will say, though. Food that is prepared in restaurants usually comes in portions that are too big. Food that is prepared in restaurants has a higher sodium and sugar content than food prepared at home. Food that is prepared in restaurants is typically not as fresh as that which is prepared at home. Hey, listen--I love Portillo's. I used to order a Big Beef with mozzarella cheese and a large order of fries, plus a slice of chocolate cake (cause, yum). Since I've started eating more food that I prepare myself, I can't tolerate that much food from Portillo's. The sandwiches and fries, while still yummy, taste much saltier than they ever used to taste. I cannot eat movie theater popcorn in any quantity. Panera's baked goods taste very stale to me. Again, I know there are healthy choices now at a lot of restaurants. I'm saying, even if they are labeled healthy, the food you prepare at home is much better for you in the long run. Try to eat two less meals out a week (or month or however often you eat out). You will start to see a big difference in how your taste buds operate.

5. Move more. Weight loss is really nothing more than expending more calories than you ingest. I love to run and I have learned to love working with Kate, my trainer. Again, that costs some money. However, there are exercise videos available at the library for free! Yep, free. If you are starting out with moving more, take a representative sample home from the library and find what you enjoy. If it's Zumba, great. If it's Jillian Michaels yelling at you, fantastic. Aim to move more than you had previously moved. I'm not saying to start working out 60 minutes a day. That's crazy and you'll never sustain it. Start small--even 15 minutes of cardiovascular exercise (where you have difficulty carrying on a conversation) a day is great! If you are just starting out, don't stress about a heart-rate monitor, FitBit, etc. Those are great tools but they are not necessary for helping you get started. Please note, tools like My Fitness Pal will help you estimate how many calories a specific exercise will burn. Always underestimate. You don't want to eat all of the calories you are burning.

6. Eat more nutrient-dense foods. Hal Higdon, in his book on marathon training, suggests eating a "wide variety of lightly-processed foods." This does not mean becoming a gourmet, drastically restricting your diet, adopting a crazy set of rules about food. This means, if you have a choice between orange juice and an orange, pick an orange. Read labels more. Even if something is marketed as organic or gluten free, read the label. Anything you're buying in a bag, box or can has a lot of sodium and other yuck in it. Again, I'm not saying to cook everything from scratch or throw out all the boxes, cans and bags in your house. What I'm saying is, educate yourself. Be a good consumer--there is nothing wrong with taking your time through the store looking for healthier options.

7. Ditch the snack foods. I know, revolutionary. My family hardly ever has cookies, candy, sweets, or any snack in a single-serving pack in our home. We have pretzels, we make popcorn in our air popper, and every once in a while I bake something at home. My philosophy is that if it's not in my house, I'm not as prone to want to mindlessly eat it. I spent some money on small Glad containers (snack-size) and use those to pack things for my kids lunches. I save money not buying fruit snacks, chips and other things that are typical lunch fare. I also save a lot of calories. This is a great opportunity to swap out a salty/sugary snack for a whole food like fruit, nuts, granola, etc. Again, more nutrition, less calories will lead to weight loss.

8. Educate yourself. The library is a great resource for books on nutrition. One of my favorites is Salt, Sugar, Fat: How the Food Giants Hooked Us, by Michael Moss. He is a journalist who takes a very meticulous look at how the big food manufacturers produce their food. It's eye-opening and is one of the reasons my family doesn't eat out as much and stays away from a lot of processed foods. A word of caution--too much information can be a dangerous thing. My general rule of thumb is to be picky with what I read. I like Mr. Moss because he is a journalist. He's not trying to sell me on buying a bunch of supplements and other things. Rather, he is trying to educate me. I have mixed feelings on Michael Pollan (The Herbivore's Dilemma) because I feel he takes too hard a line about how we should consume our food. I don't have the resources at my disposal to only shop at farmer's markets. So use good judgement. Talk to friends about what books have helped them--be sure to listen to whether or not they ended up subsequently plopping down a bunch of money for food the book "suggested." This probably means you should steer clear. (I would also recommend Fast Food Nation, by Eric Schlosser, for the same reasons I recommend Salt, Sugar, Fat. Schlosser is an investigative journalist and he shines a light on the fast food industry. Really a fascinating read.)

9. Dump the carbonated beverages. I have heard more and more studies lately about how harmful Diet Coke, Coke, etc., are for our bodies. As someone who used to drink gallons of Diet Coke a month, I can tell you that it was not doing me any favors. I wasn't drinking enough water, was craving sugar and other salty foods and constantly felt fatigued and "blah." I gave up Diet Coke two years ago and I've not looked back. I will say that I occasionally enjoy a Sierra Mist, 7UP or Sprite. I don't get as much satisfaction out of them as I used to get. Even more, I've had an uptick in bladder infections after I consume them. (My mom also has this issue, which is why she doesn't drink them at all.) I mention Diet Coke because it is touted as a diet beverage. There is nothing about it that contributes to a healthy lifestyle, in my opinion. Dump it. If that seems overwhelming, cut your consumption in half, wait a month and cut it in half again, until you have quit altogether. I can almost guarantee that you won't miss it or the pounds you will lose when you stop drinking it. Can't imagine life without carbonation? Try La Croix. I haven't, because that's not really my thing. I tried coffee for a while but it was tearing up my stomach, so I have recently switched to green tea (which is great because it has catechins--Google that). Honestly, I don't miss carbonation as much as I thought I would.

10. Make small, incremental changes. I can't stress enough how huge it has been for me to make small, manageable changes in my diet and lifestyle. I have never, in three years, eliminated an entire food group (I don't consider Diet Coke a food group). I have never said a food is off limits. I have never said I am not allowed to eat at (fill in the blank) restaurant. As a result, I have never felt deprived. I have, however, noticed that my taste buds have changed dramatically. I don't like to eat at restaurants as much, unless the food is really good. I say no to desserts that don't look like they're worth it  (even if it's a designated dessert night). I eat less bread, but bread is not off-limits. I started just within the past few weeks shifting how I eat during the day. I used to eat a late breakfast and have three eggs, a baked potato and three slices of toast (along with coffee and sweetener). Now, I started making granola and have that, along with about 8 ounces of whole milk plain yogurt (not as strong as it used to taste) for breakfast. For lunch, I chop up a huge handful of spinach leaves and onions and scramble an equivalent of two egg whites, one regular egg and 3 tablespoons of whole milk all together. I have a baked potato and either water or green tea with honey. I can tell you that I feel less sluggish throughout the day, I am eating far more veggies than I used to and overall am consuming far fewer hidden calories than I was (e.g., in the coffee creamer and butter on my toast). I don't feel like I'm missing my bread too much. I have bread--just the other night I made chicken salad sandwiches--but I'm not eating as much and instead I'm eating more nutrient-dense foods. There is a little more elbow grease involved in my current meal plan, but it's not as much as I previously thought and it's well-spent because my omelets are delicious!

Yay, there were 10! I hope one or more of these will help anyone who is currently overwhelmed in trying to make a change. You don't need to be. There are plenty of ways to make a change without spending too much change. So far, these changes have helped me in a huge way with even my limited resources.

The last rule to remember is Rule #63, not to take yourself too seriously. If making a change in your life seems tedious, you will not stick with it. I guarantee that. Whatever you decide to do to make changes, make sure there is plenty of room for being human. If not, you will find yourself stuck.

Sunday, February 22, 2015

On Seeking Community

I am at my parents' house watching their dogs. I am getting ready to go to the library. Those of you who know me know that the library is close to being a house of worship for me. I have loved books and writing for a long time. It's something that brings me a lot of joy. There is something comforting in admitting to the librarian that I don't want to be without a book over a long weekend. Even more comforting? When she says she feels the same way.

My sophomore year English teacher, Mrs. Morrison, thought it was important that we learn the Latin and Greek roots for words. I mentioned in my last blog post that English can be a very limited language, but learning Greek and Latin cracks the language wide open.

For example, the word community comes from the Latin word "communis." It means "common, public, general." The root, comm, is the beginning of a lot of words that denote togetherness--think commune, community, committee.

I have been writing since before I was in high school. I had a great writing community in high school, but after I graduated I lost track with that group of people. I have never sought out a new community for plenty of reasons. Chief among them are fear and arrogance.

I'll start with fear. I am an outgoing person, there is no question. I am the one who greets new people, I am good at conversing with random people, I thrive on being in the middle of groups. It's what drives me.

The exception is that I don't like to walk into places where I know no one. It's a scary thing, to not know a single person in the room that I'm entering.

It seems crazy, I know. That's what's so lovely about me--I'm not always a foregone conclusion.

The other reason, arrogance, is a tougher one to overcome.

I was told in high school (and have been told by other people on several occasions) that I am an excellent writer. I'm not going to argue. I think I am a great writer and I don't mean that in a rude way. I think I've been given a great talent. I do my best to be a good steward of the talent. Blogging is a way I try to cultivate my talent. It's great because I don't have a lot of pretense when I blog. It ends up being close to a stream-of-consciousness. I rarely edit what I'm writing, I do my best to practice honesty and I have a lot of fun seeing how far my posts travel around the world.

I've been a lone wolf for far too long, though. I am still working on a novel (though not as much as I would like) and I will eventually need input and editing from other writers. I typically am snobbish when it comes to deciding whose input is important. It's a very short list and it's mostly the people I know from high school. The problem is that none of them has stayed frozen in high school mode. They have moved on and formed other communities.

It's up to me to do the same. So I am at my parents' house, but I am headed to the library soon. There is a poetry contest being sponsored by the Crystal Lake Public Library. They sponsor it every year--this is the first year that I will be participating.

I am terrified. I have to walk into a room full of strangers. I have debated skipping the kick-off all together, but there is a part of me that wants to size up the competition. (Thanks, arrogance! I see what you did there.) I am hoping that this can be a baby step toward finding and building a new community with writers. The point is that I have to be *with* them in order for that to happen.

I am not sure what my poem will be about. I'd like to think I have a good chance of winning, but then who knows how the judges will feel about what I write.

My fear is trying to convince me to stay here, with a puppy on my arm, listening to the Juno soundtrack. I am more comfortable here but nothing great ever started with, "so I was sitting at my computer one day...."

So I've got to do this. I've got to suck it up. I've got to take the next right action and then the one after that, until I've gotten to a place where I'm squirming a little bit. That's where you'll find me, in case you want to look.

Wish me luck.

Monday, February 16, 2015

Crazy Little Thing Called Love

I struggled with how to write about this topic without referencing the source material. My Facebook feed has blown up over the past week about a movie that was released last Friday. It's based on a novel that was a bestseller. It depicts a relationship that is based on BDSM.

I don't want to type the title and I am hoping that my readers will know to what work of fiction I am referring. It was pointed out, in one of the numerous posts, that any press is good press. I don't want to contribute to the press because I don't think it deserves it.

So here's the thing. I know this work of fiction has had numerous posts, articles, reviews, etc., penned about it. I've not read it (though I did read an excerpt of it and really, I suffered through the paragraph that I read), though I've read part of a detailed analysis of it. My plan is really not to talk about the book, since that would be disingenuous.

Instead, I'm going to share some thoughts on love. I won't claim originality about them because mostly there's no originality when it comes to love. Volumes have been written about the subject over the past two thousand years. Men and women better than I have spent years talking and writing about it. I am going to share a little of my own thoughts, or really my thoughts on the thoughts that are out there.

This is one of the times I wish I was more fluent in other languages. I feel like the English language falls far short when it comes to discussing love. In Greek, French and Spanish (just to name a few), there are multiple words for love and each has a different connotation. In English, we use the word love but it covers all manner of love--romantic love, familial love, love between friends, love of our pets, etc. I feel like that's not fair to the word, to make it work so hard and wear so many hats.

I grew up on a diet of romantic comedies. I was a bit young for John Hughes' creations, though I've watched most of them. If there was a chick flick released between the years of 1988 and 2000, chances are I saw it. I really enjoyed some of them (Sabrina, Say Anything, Sixteen Candles, Jerry Maguire, Never Been Kissed), despised some (Titanic, Bridges of Madison County) and tolerated others (She's All That, Can't Hardly Wait).

Here's what I will say about how movies treat love. They usually don't do it well. Movies are usually short on character development and long on fantasy. I learned, from watching the movies, that teenage boys are really just misunderstood. Go for a nerd, for the quiet guy, he's gonna be the one who will "get" you, who will know how to woo and romance you.

The reality is that teenage boys are really not that evolved. Yes, there are some that are more sensitive or thoughtful, but by and large teenage boys still find fart jokes funny. Those are not the people to be trusted to make huge romantic gestures.

I'm not being hard on teenage boys, necessarily, I'm also being hard on teenage girls. For every girl that, like me, binges on these movies, we develop standards to which no one can measure. It's unfair to teenage girls and boys. It's really unfair to humans in general. There's a lot of smoke and mirrors in movies.

Let's face it, though, reality is not always a fantastic place to live. I'm not saying we shouldn't indulge in chick flicks or romantic comedies or movies in general. I think that there is a place in our lives for sitting in a movie theater and entering an alternate reality for two hours. Movies can change the way we look at ourselves, our situations, our lives. Movies are fun, are cheap stress relief, are (for me, at least) a vital part of who we are.

Literature is not always better in terms of how it treats love. It can create just as many false and unrealistic expectations. I have never been someone to read trashy romance novels. I actually detest most literature that can be classified as love stories or romance. I prefer action, classic literature and detective novels. I make exceptions sometimes, but usually I will choose a book about murder and mystery rather than one about love.

I'm not sure when I made the switch, from preferring "chick" literature and films to grittier and (more realistic) movies and books. In fairness, even my current choices are not based in reality. I am still finding escape in what I digest with my eyes, but now I prefer that my escapes be based in more reality, that they are grittier and dirtier, and that romance be a secondary plot line.

The things that I saw on the big screen and the things I read made it next to impossible for me to fall in love with a real, live, red-blooded human man. Really. There was no way that anything I found in real life was going to be like what I found on the page or screen. Who would want to date a human man who farts and belches over Lloyd Dobbler, for example, who stands outside my window and plays Peter Gabriel? I mean, come on! Given the choice, it would be Lloyd every time.

Yes, movie men make mistakes (forgive the alliteration). They mess up, they miss cues, they pick the wrong girl. The thing is, within a couple of hours, they come to their senses and make a huge romantic gesture. Obviously, I don't want to have to wait longer than two hours for a human man to come to his senses. I want the long speeches, the thoughtful cards, etc. I don't want to have to deal with someone who refuses to put his dishes in the dishwasher.

I mean, really.

This is why our language falls so short. These movies talk about love but they are really dealing with infatuation. There are more movies now about married love (Crazy. Stupid. Love., This is 40 come to mind), about how tough it is to make space for love when life is crazy. Mostly, though, movies are talking about infatuation. They are talking about the beginning of a relationship, when it's perfectly acceptable to stay up talking on the phone until 4 AM every night for a week. If I did that now, I would probably die from sleep deprivation. They are about wooing, when a couple is figuring each other out and hiding most of their more glaring character defects from one another.

Couples can't live in that phase, though. They just can't. It's unrealistic. You're eventually going to have to fart in front of your partner. You're going to have to eat messy food in front of them, have a runny nose, cough up brown stuff, wake up next to them and not have a chance to brush your teeth. That's going to happen, it just is.

Now. I am not saying that we all lower our standards to zero to accommodate the lunkhead real-life men out there. We should have standards, men and women alike. Men really are clods, to use a word my eighth-grade English teacher loved to use. That's really how they were made. Some actually are clued in to how to woo and romance but more often than not, they need to be coached on that. It's not that they don't care--it's that they didn't grow up on the same diet of movies we did. We need to have realistic (based in reality) expectations of the person for whom we are looking and the person with whom we want to spend our lives.

There is a huge disconnect and while I'm not blaming Hollywood, I'm saying Hollywood played a part. I played a part, too. Parents who let their kids watch these movies play a part. I'm not absolving anyone of their personal responsibility. I know Hollywood is vilified for what they put out, but that's not really fair to them.

And here's the thing. This latest movie, the one that some have called "soft-core porn for women," wouldn't have been made without women buying the book in bulk. Hollywood didn't make the movie in a vacuum. They would never have made the movie if they thought it wouldn't make money. That's just not how they operate. So yes, Hollywood produced and released a film about BDSM, but only because there was a demand for it.

I find that really unfortunate. I don't think it's an original love story--there are whole websites dedicated to this practice, honestly. The writing, in my opinion, is piss poor. It's drivel. There is no depth to the characters (something I can forgive in movies but absolutely not in a novel). The plot makes no sense. It's garbage! I'm actually kind of pissed off that so many women would be willing to read garbage. I am all for a novel about love and romance, don't get me wrong. I just can't subject myself to a poorly-written novel.

For example, I read Patricia Cornwell novels for a few years. I enjoyed her main character, Kay Scarpetta. I found her intelligent and human and thought she had great depth. I didn't care for all of the novels equally, but I enjoyed most of them. Then, shee released a novel called Blowfly. I read one page, put the book down and have never read another of her novels. I just didn't like how it was written. I am not going to subject myself to something that's not worth my time, even if it fits into a genre I enjoy.

I hate to judge a whole class of women. I am pretty evolved when it comes to women's issues. I think women need to be empowered. I think women should be paid equally. I think women should always have choices. I have a good number of close women friends, some of whom chose to read this book. I love those friends and all women in general. I am disappointed sometimes in what people choose as entertainment (I also loathed the Twilight series), but heck, we have all made poor decisions, right?

I know people will probably be offended in reading this. Please know that the beauty of living in the United States is that we are all allowed our opinions. If any of my readers chose to experience the book and the movie, congratulations! You have exercised your right to free speech and I will always applaud that.

There are, however, larger issues addressed in this particular novel that have a lot of women up in arms. I feel like that could fill a whole other blog post. I have learned more and more about human trafficking in recent years. I am sickened the more that I learn, because I hate thinking about the millions of women around the world who are not given choices. They are kidnapped and systematically raped and tortured to satiate the demands of men who devalue them.

This book doesn't talk about human trafficking, but I think it does touch the issue tangentially. From what I understand, the main female character is a virgin before connecting with the main male character. She engages in BDSM to please the male character, who, incidentally, stalks and dominates her. Again, all women should have choices about how they practice love with partners of their choice.

That being said, I think the book serves to desensitize rather than empower women. If millions of women are reading a book about another woman engaging in BDSM in an attempt to placate and ultimately heal/fix a man, I think it is dangerous. It can send the message that this is always the case. My husband/boyfriend is goading me to try this? Well, maybe engaging in this behavior will stop them from terrorizing/stalking/brutalizing me.

Yes, as educated women we can separate fiction from reality. We can read it and say, "hmmm, that was a good escape." For women who don't have good role models in their lives, though, this book can do nothing but further erode their idea of appropriate sexual relations. I think it's similar to the movie Pretty Woman. In the movie, Julia Roberts is a prostitute. We never find out why or how she became a prostitute, but we are lead to believe she chose the lifestyle (most women don't). Then, she decides to go home with Richard Gere. In a week, she woos Mr. Gere and ends up being rescued from the life by him. (This is of course after she is sexually assaulted by Jason Alexander.)

Maybe that plot line has happened in real life. Maybe most people can watch that movie and realize, "hey, that was a good way to escape life for a couple of hours, but it's not based in reality." The problem is that it desensitizes us to the bigger issue, that prostitution is not usually a choice, it's not at all glamorous and it's a billion dollar industry that is growing every year. It sends the wrong message to broken women who are looking for someone to love them.

Like I said, read the book, don't read the book. See the movie, don't see the movie. We live in a country where we are all, men and women alike, allowed to make choices like that. Enjoy that freedom. All I ask is that you spend some time researching how to help trafficked women. Have conversations with your daughters about real love, not love found in books or movies. Think about whether you'd be okay with your daughters reading this novel when they grow up. Think about whether your sons should read a book like this.

As for me, I'm currently nursing an infatuation for broad-shouldered Englishmen. I will be going to see Kingsmen, starring Colin Firth, later this week. I'm looking forward to hearing his beautiful voice recite lines, to seeing him kick some butt, and then coming home to my husband, who burps and farts and usually falls asleep on the couch. I'm a firm believer in having my head in the clouds and feet on the ground.

P.S., I could also spend a whole blog post decrying Nicholas Sparks or the recent new genre of movies made about love and tailor-made for Christians. I also can't stand any of that. I love my husband. We went to one marriage retreat. We will not be going back, like ever. We giggled through the whole thing and have never once practiced anything we learned that weekend. (We also strained our eyes because we rolled them so much at each other.) I hate cheese, be it Christian or secular. I don't like Kirk Cameron at all and don't want to seem him act poorly in a movie. So rest assured, I am an equal opportunity critic. That is all.