Monthly Archives: February 2012

Muppet of a Man


I feel like I should really be singing this song:

I’ve been dreaming about this stage in my life for so long. Finally, I am:

  1. Living in the big ol’ city with big ol’ city things happening.
  2. In grad school and actually doing ok!
  3. Working a job that doesn’t pay me peanuts and offers me nifty grownup things like health and dental insurance (and something called a 403B, which sounds like a seedy motel room off the interstate)

    This is seriously what popped up when I google searched "403B"

  4. Driving a fancy-shmancy new car around
  5. In the best physical health of my life. I may not be the size I imagined myself, but I ran a freakin’ half marathon in a somewhat decent time. And I can finally do a pull-up after years of crying over my failure to do them during the President’s Physical Fitness Challenge
  6. Learning a whole bunch of new hobbies… like swimming, knitting,sketching, etc.
  7. ENGAGED. I was never really wedding “obsessed,” butI will admit to fantasizing over what it would be like to plan a wedding
  8. With a guy who does truly care about my well-being, and even after I present my craziness, he still does care.
  9. Away from the drama that was college and high school. And confident enough to know that those years were “dark” for a reason.
  10. Can afford things. Like real food, gym memberships, and netflix subscriptions!

And seriously, I could go on. My life has a lot of fulfillment in it. Yet, I often find myself behaving a lot like this:

… Actually, screw a picture. It feels like all this good isn’t that great. I am a literal shell of the person I once was. And I dont know if it’s because I lost a part of me a long time ago that could tolerate what scares me now (crowds, strangers, speaking in public, performing, going out late at night, etc), or it’s because I’ve genuinely changed and this is how it is always going to be.

All I know is that I wake up every morning with my heart racing in anticipation of how many panic attacks or emotional breakdowns I may have. I am totally strung out with emotions.

A guy on the L literally made me cry this morning. What did he do? He looked at me and snarled. And for some reason, this man (who looked like he was on his way to the crack-pot convention) and his snap, facial judgment of me made me lose it. And oddly enough, this reaction isn’t even uncommon anymore.

Hear a U2 song? Pull over the car and sob.

Cant find workout socks? Scream in to pillow.

Boyfriend call your clearly childish actions… uh, childish? Throw Ipod cord.

Loud noises? Run out of room.

Realize you went 10 points over on weight watchers? Punish self with constant mental put-downs for hours.

All of these things have happened to me in the last 2 days.

… I want to be better. I really do. I want to feel braver. And stronger. And less manic all the time. I keep thinking that this is a symptom of the weather and me working in an office with no windows or outside facing doors. Or, it’s because I stopped running outside over the winter. Maybe it’s the major life changes coming. Or maybe it’s the lack of them. Whatever it is, I’m just not getting X, and it’s making me act like Y.

I’m starting to believe that this is an unsolvable problem. Or, that I’ll hit rock bottom in the immediate future, and it will force me to give up and get the care I need. Wow. I must be pretty low already if I am actively hoping that it will actually get worse

And I really dont know how to end this blog. So, I am going to take a cue from someone much stronger and wonderful than me, Miss Maggie W., and say “Every Rilo Kiley lyric ever.”

Sometimes in the morning i am petrified and can’t move
Awake but cannot open my eyes
And the weight is crushing down on my lungs i know i can’t breath
And hope someone will help me this time
Your mother’s still calling you insane and high
Swearing it’s different this time
And you tell her to give in to the demons that possess her
And that God never blessed her insides
Then you hang up the phone and feel badly for upsetting things
And crawl back into bed to dream of a time
When your heart was open wide and you loved things just because
Like the sick and the dying

And sometimes when you’re on, you’re really fucking on
And your friends they sing along and they love you
But the lows are so extreme that the good seems fucking cheap
And it teases you for weeks in its absense
But you’ll fight and you’ll make it through
You’ll fake it if you have to
And you’ll show up for work with a smile
And you’ll be be better you’ll be smarter
More grown up and a better daughter
Or son and a real good friend
And you’ll be awake and you’ll be alert
You’ll be positive though it hurts
And you’ll laugh and embrace all your friends
And you’ll be a real good listener
You’ll be honest you’ll be brave
You’ll be handsome you’ll be beautiful
You’ll be happy

Your ship may be coming in
You’re weak but not giving in
To the cries and the wails of the valley below
Your ship may be coming in
You’re weak but not giving in
And you’ll fight it. You’ll go out fighting all of them…


Black Cloud Cartoons


What my mind feels like


What I look like to my loved ones

How my foster dog sees me

What I really want to do...

But what I'm doing instead.

What I need to get better


But what I wont do.

Because I’m stuck in a:

That’s really my own:

And I dont think I’m coming out any time soon.

So, please:


I’ll be back

I hope.

And I promise to be a better:

Why Didn’t I Learn That?


One year, B took me to a somewhat local music festival. Like all camping fests, it included its fair shares of dirty hippy people doing dirty hippy things.

Now, I get the whole, peace/love/free expression vibe. And man, some of their fashion was pretty awesome. But, besides that, I draw the line on my love for hippy culture. I respect you if that’s your thing, but dont expect me to join in our uncoordinated drum circle anytime soon.

But there is one thing that I do appreciate from pseudo-hippies. And it’ so odd that I dont even know if I should share it…

Ok, I will. Because I’m blogging and I can say whatever I want without total repercussions or judgment.

Man. I want to learn how to hoop…

Hoop, as in HULA HOOP!

Mind blown, futuristic hippy lady.

First of all, this looks like a fantastic workout. And since my hips certainly do not belong to Shakira, I’d love to find a great workout for them. But, there’s an issue.

I. Cant. Hula. Hoop!

I’ve tried countless amounts of times to learn. Friends have spent hours (nay, minutes) trying to teach me. But as patient as they may be, my inability to make perfect circles with my hips has ruled the day. Sometime around college, I came to the conclusion that I would never, ever learn how to hula hoop. There was obviously something wrong with my body since it felt like I was the only girl in the world who lacked the ability to swing a plastic colored ring around her torso.

It’s so alienating, let me tell you.

Now that I am older and have been experimenting with fitness trends like Zumba and the occasional strip-tease class, I think it’s time to spread my wings and give this one a go.

But where do I start? I HAVE NO IDEA. Do I just buy a hoop and spend hours in my locked bedroom until I get it right? Or do they have classes where adults like me learn the basics of hip movements? Worse so, if I do find a hooping class, will it be filled with 10 year old girls who have already mastered the neck hooping?

I think this is just one of those things where I am going to have to learn it on my own, at least to save potential embarrassment and finger pointing from little girls.

The next time I go to Target, I’ll buy myself a hula hoop and dedicate some time to learning. Rome wasn’t built in a day, I suppose. And I wasn’t able to run a 5K the first week three months I tried.

Maybe this will become a metaphor for my life. It seems like a lot of fitness stuff does once I get good at it. Heck, half the time in spin class, I remind myself that every spin is a journey… or some BS like that.

Maybe every turn around the hoop will be one more daemon from my childhood leaving me? Nah. Too dramatic. I’ll work on it.

Any suggestions on how conquering hooping can be a metaphor for my life? Bonus point if it uses a pun.