The hippest thing on Facebook these days is making a list of 25 random things about your self and tagging 25 friends. I hate tagging people in things like that and I would rather give love to the bloggarino. So, I unveil to you, my faithful reader, 25 random things about yours truly.
1. Two staples of my diet are ketchup and bread. I order and buy food that requires ketchup’s assistance. And my Ikea bread box rarely stays empty. Sometimes, bread and ketchup make the perfect snack in between jobs and social engagements.
2. If you look closely above my right eye, you will see a blue dot. I got the lovely mark when I was two years old, running through the house with a pencil in my hand, tripped and fell. I consider it the first clumsy act to mark my klutzy life.
3. My biggest regret in college is never studying abroad. However, I did travel to four countries while I was a student.
4. I prefer not to purchase art and jewelry. I believe those two things should always have meaning, so I would rather receive them as gifts.
5. I’ve seen the ocean and the mountains, but nothing moves me the way a prairie sunset does.
6. My car, the Ponty, is like a pet to me. It’s been through some monumental changes with me and I can’t bare to think about they day we will part.
7. My ideal life contains evenings cooking pasta in a downtown city apartment and listening to jazz music. It’s a domestic fantasy I’ve had for years.
8. Many women my age have names picked out for their unborn children. I, on the other hand, have already decided what I will name my first dog – Poky, in honor of my short life in Pocatello, Idaho.
9. Nothing scares me more than the idea of buying a house. I hope to someday out grow that immature fear.
10. When I was in middle school, I sent an email out to all of my friends saying I know a woman who gives advice for free. All they had to do was email their problem to the address below and she’ll give you advice. The email address went to an account that I made up, with a fake name. I just really wanted to help people.
11. As a reporter, I’ve been called a conservative Jesus freak and a liberal wacko. Sometimes, on the same story.
12. I refuse to ask for help. To me, it’s a sign of weakness. The idea that “It’s just me in this life” is cemented in my thought process and I hate to compromise my independence. I’m really trying to change that and realize that people want to help because they love.
13. I’m a chameleon when it comes to emotions and attitude. Someone with a bright smile can snap me out of a bad mood, and vice versa.
14. My high school senior class voted me most likely to write a book, win an Oscar and work on Wall Street.
15. On my first day of preschool, I tried to take off my shoes and my teacher wouldn’t let me. Once and a while, I think about my disappointment that day. If it was socially acceptable, I would be barefoot all the time. I hate socks.
16. Nothing about my life makes sense, and that is what I love the most about it.
17. Randomly, I will smell the Metrodome. I could be thousands of miles from Minneapolis, but the smell of hot dogs and Twins baseball is engraved in my nostrils.
18. Many of my dreams take place in my elementary school or the stairwells of my middle school.
19. It’s my everlasting objective to make people cry when they read something I write, whether it’s a story, a blog post or a note in a greeting card.
20. I ask a lot of questions, especially in day-to-day to conversations. It limits awkward dulls and I’m genuinely interested in people and what they are passionate about.
21. One of my life fantasies is to travel the country, telling stories about the people I meet a long the way.
22. Every time I’ve gone through a break up, my father has always said “Someday, you fill find someone who is worthy of you. And, God willing, he’ll be a baseball fan.” I hope so, too.
23. Good writing gives me goose bumps.
24. Some day, I hope to get paid for being Heather Mangan.
25. No matter what I am doing or where I am at, I will drop anything for a friend or family member in need. The people that mean the most to me deserve 100 percent of me.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
The girl at the bar
She walked into the green-lit bar around supper time. Still dressed from the work day, she wasn’t fit to play the role of a bar fly.
At the end of the bar, she climbed on to a stool. The bartender didn’t say a word, but motioned that he was ready for her drink order. She asked for her usual glass of light beer, and the bartender returned moments later with a frothy drink.
She took a gulp from the chilled glass, pausing to taste the bubbles and the barely. The other bar goers didn’t pay much attention to the establishment’s new inhabitant. The closest to her was an older man, not elderly just older than the others in the bar. Wearing a red baseball hat and a white beard, he glanced at the three televisions on the top of the liquor shelf as if it was an obligation. He seemed more interested in his surroundings.
To his left was a man about the same age as the girl at the bar. He shutout the rest of the bar and focused on the middle TV, which was broadcasting a sporting event.
At the opposite side of the bar, two men engaged in the bar’s only conversation. It drifted to the economy and politics, appropriate on the inauguration day of Barack Obama.
The only person seated in a booth was the bar’s only other female, but she didn’t concern herself with anything outside her leather seat and cherry wood table.
The girl at the bar smiled. Never once in her life did she feel it was appropriate to have a drink by herself in the middle of a Tuesday evening, but nothing felt more right at that moment.
Her country had a new president, a man full of hope and belief. The new leader captivated the entire world and won the support of a country almost empty of optimism.
Earlier in the day, that man stopped the world. Offices, schools, restaurants, stores shut down. Life took a break to watch a Barack Obama become the 44th President of the United States of America. TVs and computers were tuned to Washington D.C. But this historic event was much more than an induction ceremony. It was a glimpse of hope, a shimmer of strength, an ode of unity.
After the oath, Obama spoke of the change that is possible, but the hard work and resilience it requires. America faces two wars, a crashing economy and a global crisis, but at the end of the day hope can win, Obama tells us. As Americans, we will not lose.
The girl at the bar faces her own life challenges and hope is hard to find on cold mornings. She doubted her future and her ability to help make this world a better place.
But watching the first black American president refuse to give into uncertainty and fear will restore anyone’s faith. She opened her mind to possibilities and ignored hesitation. If this average man could literally change the world’s thinking, she could also make an impact. She just had to try.
Looking around to the few other people in the bar, the girl realized that hope is all around her. She couldn’t prove it, but there was hope in that bar. It was full of it. And so was she.
The idea of sitting alone at the bar would normally scare her, but not today. Hope was louder, and hope deserved a celebratory drink.
Midway through her drink, her friends walked into the bar ready to whisk her off to the neighboring restaurant. She gulped the rest down and followed her friends out. She took one last look at the bar and smiled. Hope never tasted so good.
At the end of the bar, she climbed on to a stool. The bartender didn’t say a word, but motioned that he was ready for her drink order. She asked for her usual glass of light beer, and the bartender returned moments later with a frothy drink.
She took a gulp from the chilled glass, pausing to taste the bubbles and the barely. The other bar goers didn’t pay much attention to the establishment’s new inhabitant. The closest to her was an older man, not elderly just older than the others in the bar. Wearing a red baseball hat and a white beard, he glanced at the three televisions on the top of the liquor shelf as if it was an obligation. He seemed more interested in his surroundings.
To his left was a man about the same age as the girl at the bar. He shutout the rest of the bar and focused on the middle TV, which was broadcasting a sporting event.
At the opposite side of the bar, two men engaged in the bar’s only conversation. It drifted to the economy and politics, appropriate on the inauguration day of Barack Obama.
The only person seated in a booth was the bar’s only other female, but she didn’t concern herself with anything outside her leather seat and cherry wood table.
The girl at the bar smiled. Never once in her life did she feel it was appropriate to have a drink by herself in the middle of a Tuesday evening, but nothing felt more right at that moment.
Her country had a new president, a man full of hope and belief. The new leader captivated the entire world and won the support of a country almost empty of optimism.
Earlier in the day, that man stopped the world. Offices, schools, restaurants, stores shut down. Life took a break to watch a Barack Obama become the 44th President of the United States of America. TVs and computers were tuned to Washington D.C. But this historic event was much more than an induction ceremony. It was a glimpse of hope, a shimmer of strength, an ode of unity.
After the oath, Obama spoke of the change that is possible, but the hard work and resilience it requires. America faces two wars, a crashing economy and a global crisis, but at the end of the day hope can win, Obama tells us. As Americans, we will not lose.
The girl at the bar faces her own life challenges and hope is hard to find on cold mornings. She doubted her future and her ability to help make this world a better place.
But watching the first black American president refuse to give into uncertainty and fear will restore anyone’s faith. She opened her mind to possibilities and ignored hesitation. If this average man could literally change the world’s thinking, she could also make an impact. She just had to try.
Looking around to the few other people in the bar, the girl realized that hope is all around her. She couldn’t prove it, but there was hope in that bar. It was full of it. And so was she.
The idea of sitting alone at the bar would normally scare her, but not today. Hope was louder, and hope deserved a celebratory drink.
Midway through her drink, her friends walked into the bar ready to whisk her off to the neighboring restaurant. She gulped the rest down and followed her friends out. She took one last look at the bar and smiled. Hope never tasted so good.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Monday Morning
It hasn’t been a good morning so far.
When my alarm sounded at 5:15 a.m., I just couldn’t bear the thought of leaving my warm bed. I decided to hold my workout off 45 minutes and tried to gain just an ounce more of rest. At 6 a.m. I held another debate with myself about getting up, but decided there wasn’t going to be another good opportunity to exercise today and got out of bed.
First, I needed to check my email, which contained my stringing schedule for the next two weeks. Overwhelmed from a 2,800 word story and three-games-a-week schedule, I’ve wanted to cut my hours back. Without saying a word, he took me down to 10 hours a week. Although that is what I wanted, I was still upset about it, enough to put me in a bad mood heading to the gym.
My room is an utter mess, which makes finding anything impossible. I’ve been meaning to clean it and do laundry for weeks, but there never seems to be enough time to do so. Not really caring that my sleeping roommate was only separated from me by a thin piece of sheetrock, I started throwing clothes, shoes and bags around until my running shoes were located.
The warmer temperatures left a nice sheet of frost on my window, but I didn’t bother to scrape it off. I was already in bad mood, and didn’t have patience for that. So, I bobbed and weaved in my car, trying to get the best sight I could amidst the tiny snow flakes plastered to my windshield. Each car that passed, I prayed that it wasn’t a police officer with the ability to give me a $70 obstruction of view ticket.
It took 30 minutes to get into the flow of my workout, and I never did reach my usual energy level. I tried to distract the time with CNN’s coverage of the inaugural, but each person they interviewed depressed me more.
Barack Obama will be sworn in as president tomorrow, and despite the economy, environment and skepticism, he still has faith in dreams and hopes. My hopes and dreams don’t even motivate me to get out of bed.
Today is Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. News anchors spoke of his service to this country and his undying fight for peace. Instead of being inspired, all I could think about was my lack of fight and leadership to do anything even remotely similar to what King accomplished.
The most demoralizing story was about Washington D.C. cab drivers who talked about handling the crowds during tomorrow’s inauguration. These were men from all parts of the world who moved to D.C. to find a new peace. They believe in Obama because they believe in America, the reason they left their native country in search of a better life. These men have more courage than I’ll ever understand. I’ll probably never posses that type of audacity and it shatters me to pieces.
At the tail end of my workout, I tried to work through some of these feelings. What made me so unhappy? I have a wonderful job, great friends and loving family, so why all the unrest in my soul? I still don’t have the answer to that question, but I did make one small realization.
I never forgave myself for leaving the newspaper business.
It’s been about a year since I’ve left my full-time job as a newspaper reporter, a hard but wise decision. I still wonder if I did make the right choice, knowing my passions for writing and conversing with people. But sitting in that gym this morning, I know that I am much happier where I am than where I was. I just haven’t let myself believe that.
So, I took a look at myself in the mirror and said “Heather, you are forgiven. You are meant to be where you are.”
At that moment, it was time to leave. I gathered my belongings from the locker room and headed into the cold to my car. As I stepped out of the gym, taking in the campus scenery, I vowed to have a good day at work. I promised myself to take on all projects and tasks with vigor and be the employee that I was hired to be.
I can’t always be the person I expect myself to be, but I owe it to myself to be happy. It’s exhausting to look at life with “what if” glasses. I might dream about big adventures and living a different life, but today is what I have and I am never guaranteed another. So, what’s the point of holding grudges and being unsatisfied with what I do have?
The courage I have will help me accomplish my dreams, but today, I will be the best that I can be. That’s all I really know how to do, and that takes more courage than I really understand.
When my alarm sounded at 5:15 a.m., I just couldn’t bear the thought of leaving my warm bed. I decided to hold my workout off 45 minutes and tried to gain just an ounce more of rest. At 6 a.m. I held another debate with myself about getting up, but decided there wasn’t going to be another good opportunity to exercise today and got out of bed.
First, I needed to check my email, which contained my stringing schedule for the next two weeks. Overwhelmed from a 2,800 word story and three-games-a-week schedule, I’ve wanted to cut my hours back. Without saying a word, he took me down to 10 hours a week. Although that is what I wanted, I was still upset about it, enough to put me in a bad mood heading to the gym.
My room is an utter mess, which makes finding anything impossible. I’ve been meaning to clean it and do laundry for weeks, but there never seems to be enough time to do so. Not really caring that my sleeping roommate was only separated from me by a thin piece of sheetrock, I started throwing clothes, shoes and bags around until my running shoes were located.
The warmer temperatures left a nice sheet of frost on my window, but I didn’t bother to scrape it off. I was already in bad mood, and didn’t have patience for that. So, I bobbed and weaved in my car, trying to get the best sight I could amidst the tiny snow flakes plastered to my windshield. Each car that passed, I prayed that it wasn’t a police officer with the ability to give me a $70 obstruction of view ticket.
It took 30 minutes to get into the flow of my workout, and I never did reach my usual energy level. I tried to distract the time with CNN’s coverage of the inaugural, but each person they interviewed depressed me more.
Barack Obama will be sworn in as president tomorrow, and despite the economy, environment and skepticism, he still has faith in dreams and hopes. My hopes and dreams don’t even motivate me to get out of bed.
Today is Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. News anchors spoke of his service to this country and his undying fight for peace. Instead of being inspired, all I could think about was my lack of fight and leadership to do anything even remotely similar to what King accomplished.
The most demoralizing story was about Washington D.C. cab drivers who talked about handling the crowds during tomorrow’s inauguration. These were men from all parts of the world who moved to D.C. to find a new peace. They believe in Obama because they believe in America, the reason they left their native country in search of a better life. These men have more courage than I’ll ever understand. I’ll probably never posses that type of audacity and it shatters me to pieces.
At the tail end of my workout, I tried to work through some of these feelings. What made me so unhappy? I have a wonderful job, great friends and loving family, so why all the unrest in my soul? I still don’t have the answer to that question, but I did make one small realization.
I never forgave myself for leaving the newspaper business.
It’s been about a year since I’ve left my full-time job as a newspaper reporter, a hard but wise decision. I still wonder if I did make the right choice, knowing my passions for writing and conversing with people. But sitting in that gym this morning, I know that I am much happier where I am than where I was. I just haven’t let myself believe that.
So, I took a look at myself in the mirror and said “Heather, you are forgiven. You are meant to be where you are.”
At that moment, it was time to leave. I gathered my belongings from the locker room and headed into the cold to my car. As I stepped out of the gym, taking in the campus scenery, I vowed to have a good day at work. I promised myself to take on all projects and tasks with vigor and be the employee that I was hired to be.
I can’t always be the person I expect myself to be, but I owe it to myself to be happy. It’s exhausting to look at life with “what if” glasses. I might dream about big adventures and living a different life, but today is what I have and I am never guaranteed another. So, what’s the point of holding grudges and being unsatisfied with what I do have?
The courage I have will help me accomplish my dreams, but today, I will be the best that I can be. That’s all I really know how to do, and that takes more courage than I really understand.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
A t-shirts and jeans girls
So, like most women in the country, I got caught up in Sex and the City movement. However, my admiration for the show didn’t come until it had been off air for a few years and was syndicated on TBS or some other channel that thrives on reruns. Sure, the clothes and steamy story lines were pleasing, but the show’s real appeal was lust for Carrie Bradshaw’s job and the suitable writing. Carrie’s monologues, usually in the beginning and ending of the episode, are quite excellent and usually fitting to my single, undefined life. One of my favorite quotes in the show is quite applicable to my current state in life, so much that it cross my thought pattern at least once a week.
“Later that day I got to thinking about relationships. There are those that open you up to something new and exotic, those that are old and familiar, those that bring up lots of questions, those that bring you somewhere unexpected, those that bring you far from where you started, and those that bring you back. But the most exciting, challenging and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself. And if you can find someone to love the you you love, well, that's just fabulous.” – Carrie Bradshaw
Each day, I seem to discover some new characteristic or attribute that I bear. Sometimes, these are not good things. I think most of us know that we posses less-than-pleasing qualities, but we tend to forget about them because that’s easier than looking at the problem in the face. In the last few months, I’ve tried to examine those flaws, categorizing those that are fixable and those that are just part of my makeup. It’s a painful process that’s brought me to tears on a few occasions, but at the end the day I feel stronger about who I am.
There are also those features that I love about myself, things I’ve picked out in other people as traits that I want to shine within me. These are the fun moments of getting to know myself because I learn to love myself and trust myself just a bit more. This weekend, I learned something truly inspirational about myself.
A group of friends decided to spend an evening out in Sioux Falls (we rescheduled the trip from last week.) As my friends were deciding on tops, perfume and eye makeup, I tried to keep up with their cuteness. To add spice to my usual outing attire, I picked out a normal black three-quarter sleeved shirt and paired it with a green tank top, dark jeans and black boots. To tie the ensemble together, I wore eye shadow and lipstick. Still, I was the most dressed down. But that is me.
As I was applying the eye shadow, I realized that I rarely dress up to go out for a night and this was my best attempt. Granted the bars in Sioux Falls are a bit classier than ones in Brookings, yet many girls go to great lengths to make themselves over for an evening out. Not me. Most times, I wear t-shirts and jeans with my hair pulled back. Sometimes, I do like to dress up with my friends for special occasions, but I’ve never felt like I had to get dolled up just to have a beer with a friend.
When it comes to appearance, I’m extremely low maintenance. It takes me twenty minutes to get ready in the morning. I rarely buy designer clothes, and I can’t give you the names of five top designers. I tend to dress like a hippie or hobo or a hippie hobo. I buy little makeup and usually throw gel in my hair and call it good.
Maybe it comes from growing up with two brothers and playing wiffle ball and two-hand touch football in my boy-dominated neighborhood, but I am a bad girl. I’ve had my nails done once and have sweared off tanning salons. My favorite pair of shoes is flip flops and my favorite jeans have holes in the knees. I’m the girl that hangs back with boys at the sports bar to watch the end of Twins game and becomes giddying discussing SDSU Football prospects.
I love that about myself. Some women may call it laziness. My friends who dress more girly do get more attention from guys, but that doesn’t really bother me. I wear what makes me comfortable, whether it is a skirt or dirty t-shirt.
I have nothing against girls that like to dress up, with cute clothes and makeup. I think many of them are knockouts, and I am envious of their sexiness. But that isn’t me and I’ve realized it’s OK to be just me. The people and things that matter most in my life will eventually realize that that is part of me, and I love me the way I am.
“Later that day I got to thinking about relationships. There are those that open you up to something new and exotic, those that are old and familiar, those that bring up lots of questions, those that bring you somewhere unexpected, those that bring you far from where you started, and those that bring you back. But the most exciting, challenging and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself. And if you can find someone to love the you you love, well, that's just fabulous.” – Carrie Bradshaw
Each day, I seem to discover some new characteristic or attribute that I bear. Sometimes, these are not good things. I think most of us know that we posses less-than-pleasing qualities, but we tend to forget about them because that’s easier than looking at the problem in the face. In the last few months, I’ve tried to examine those flaws, categorizing those that are fixable and those that are just part of my makeup. It’s a painful process that’s brought me to tears on a few occasions, but at the end the day I feel stronger about who I am.
There are also those features that I love about myself, things I’ve picked out in other people as traits that I want to shine within me. These are the fun moments of getting to know myself because I learn to love myself and trust myself just a bit more. This weekend, I learned something truly inspirational about myself.
A group of friends decided to spend an evening out in Sioux Falls (we rescheduled the trip from last week.) As my friends were deciding on tops, perfume and eye makeup, I tried to keep up with their cuteness. To add spice to my usual outing attire, I picked out a normal black three-quarter sleeved shirt and paired it with a green tank top, dark jeans and black boots. To tie the ensemble together, I wore eye shadow and lipstick. Still, I was the most dressed down. But that is me.
As I was applying the eye shadow, I realized that I rarely dress up to go out for a night and this was my best attempt. Granted the bars in Sioux Falls are a bit classier than ones in Brookings, yet many girls go to great lengths to make themselves over for an evening out. Not me. Most times, I wear t-shirts and jeans with my hair pulled back. Sometimes, I do like to dress up with my friends for special occasions, but I’ve never felt like I had to get dolled up just to have a beer with a friend.
When it comes to appearance, I’m extremely low maintenance. It takes me twenty minutes to get ready in the morning. I rarely buy designer clothes, and I can’t give you the names of five top designers. I tend to dress like a hippie or hobo or a hippie hobo. I buy little makeup and usually throw gel in my hair and call it good.
Maybe it comes from growing up with two brothers and playing wiffle ball and two-hand touch football in my boy-dominated neighborhood, but I am a bad girl. I’ve had my nails done once and have sweared off tanning salons. My favorite pair of shoes is flip flops and my favorite jeans have holes in the knees. I’m the girl that hangs back with boys at the sports bar to watch the end of Twins game and becomes giddying discussing SDSU Football prospects.
I love that about myself. Some women may call it laziness. My friends who dress more girly do get more attention from guys, but that doesn’t really bother me. I wear what makes me comfortable, whether it is a skirt or dirty t-shirt.
I have nothing against girls that like to dress up, with cute clothes and makeup. I think many of them are knockouts, and I am envious of their sexiness. But that isn’t me and I’ve realized it’s OK to be just me. The people and things that matter most in my life will eventually realize that that is part of me, and I love me the way I am.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Progress
When you are trying to accomplish a lofty goal or break a nasty habit, even the slightest hint of progress can feel like a mountain has moved.
Today, I moved a mountain.
Like most people, I made it a New Year’s resolution to lose a few pounds. Actually, I proclaimed to take on a healthier lifestyle with more sleep, better food choices and regular exercise.
Right now, I am probably at the heaviest I’ve ever been. It’s not a great feeling, especially when my favorite jeans feel a bit more than snug. Actually, nothing really looks great on me and I prefer people to only take photos from my shoulders up.
I’ve been really trying to make healthier choices about food and hit the gym as often as I can, but those are not easy habits to infuse in your lifestyle.
This morning, I hit a rugged emotional state. Life was arguing with me and getting out of bed was a struggle. To combat that feeling, I ate. A friend and I already planned to have lunch that day and we met at pizza place for buffet. I chose a less fat salad dressing, skipped the fried stuff and passed on the desert. Yet, I still had my share of greasy calories.
My ah-ha moment came after we left the restaurant. The feeling of disgust settled in and my body began to itch like ants were crawling in my skin. This feeling come usually after I eat too much. The normal response is to go throw all the consumed food back up. But not this time.
“You are better than that, Heather,” I reminded myself.
Many of my friends and family know that I’ve been battling an eating disorder since I was a high school senior. I’ve been able to control it through counseling and will power, but that doesn’t mean it’s cured. No, I suspect to live with that temptation for the rest of my life. There is flare ups during stress full times or bad relationships, but I can usually come out of it. And when I am trying to lose weight, it always seems like a quick fix.
But not this time. This time I am going to be healthy, this time I am going to do it the right way.
It will take months for me to reach my healthy goals, but I can be patient. If I have to wait years to reach it and never throw up another piece of food, then I am OK with it. This disease may be a part of my past but it will not be a part of my future.
So, today, I said no to a bad habit and yes to healthy. It might not seem much to someone else, but to me, it’s one less mountain.
Today, I moved a mountain.
Like most people, I made it a New Year’s resolution to lose a few pounds. Actually, I proclaimed to take on a healthier lifestyle with more sleep, better food choices and regular exercise.
Right now, I am probably at the heaviest I’ve ever been. It’s not a great feeling, especially when my favorite jeans feel a bit more than snug. Actually, nothing really looks great on me and I prefer people to only take photos from my shoulders up.
I’ve been really trying to make healthier choices about food and hit the gym as often as I can, but those are not easy habits to infuse in your lifestyle.
This morning, I hit a rugged emotional state. Life was arguing with me and getting out of bed was a struggle. To combat that feeling, I ate. A friend and I already planned to have lunch that day and we met at pizza place for buffet. I chose a less fat salad dressing, skipped the fried stuff and passed on the desert. Yet, I still had my share of greasy calories.
My ah-ha moment came after we left the restaurant. The feeling of disgust settled in and my body began to itch like ants were crawling in my skin. This feeling come usually after I eat too much. The normal response is to go throw all the consumed food back up. But not this time.
“You are better than that, Heather,” I reminded myself.
Many of my friends and family know that I’ve been battling an eating disorder since I was a high school senior. I’ve been able to control it through counseling and will power, but that doesn’t mean it’s cured. No, I suspect to live with that temptation for the rest of my life. There is flare ups during stress full times or bad relationships, but I can usually come out of it. And when I am trying to lose weight, it always seems like a quick fix.
But not this time. This time I am going to be healthy, this time I am going to do it the right way.
It will take months for me to reach my healthy goals, but I can be patient. If I have to wait years to reach it and never throw up another piece of food, then I am OK with it. This disease may be a part of my past but it will not be a part of my future.
So, today, I said no to a bad habit and yes to healthy. It might not seem much to someone else, but to me, it’s one less mountain.
Man in the restaurant
He walked into the restaurant and found a booth across the room from where a friend and I are sitting. I assumed he was meeting a friend because we’ve had simultaneous lunch dates at Brookings establishments before.
Just a minute after seating, he made his way to the buffet and filled a plate. Less than 15 minutes later, he returned for another helping. That’s when I noticed he was alone.
Another 15 minutes later, he got up, paid his ticket and proceeded with his Sunday afternoon.
We were casual acquaintances at most and we never did make eye contact, but I couldn’t help wondering about him.
In a few weeks, he’ll jet off to a two and half year tour with the Peace Corps in Africa. That was probably the last time I’ll ever seem him.
Maybe he wanted to enjoy one last meal at one of Brookings best eateries, a locally owned pizza place that is known for its Italian pies as much as its unique selection of Greek food. Maybe he savored each bite of pizza knowing it’ll be two years before he gets the chance to taste the cheesy goodness again.
He knows that his days in Brookings are numbered, a feeling I know and one I wanted to feel again. But moving a few states away is different than moving to a third world country for two years. I tried to picture his thought process and what that normal Sunday meal meant to him.
Maybe this lunch it wasn’t a big deal. Maybe he was just hungry and pizza seemed like the ideal cure.
But I tend to believe he was very conscious of all the things that were coming to an end. His life will drastically change soon, and it’s probably a dramatic thought to take in.
And I was envious.
I couldn’t help but wonder what if that was me. I applied to the Peace Corps and it didn’t work out. But what if it did? What if I was the one leaving in a few days?
I would probably be enjoying that pizza as the last one I’ll ever taste. I would relish each moment with my friends and jam pack my schedule with social events in order to do it.
My heart dropped a bit when I realized that it wasn’t me. Remember, the Peace Corps turned my application down. Yet, big adventures are still in store for me.
At that lunch, my friend and I discussed the big ideas I had in mind and what I would have to do to accomplish them. It makes me excited thinking of all the limitless opportunities that are available at my fingertips.
When I saw him walk out of the restaurant, I wished him a silent good luck. He’ll be a great volunteer, I am sure.
I looked back at my friend and smiled. It was good to be there with her. And as much as I complain, it is good to live this life. My future will be laden with great adventures and sparkling moments, but I can’t concentrate on that when marvelous things happen around me all day.
Seeing him reminded me that me I have what I have for a reason. It’s a rotten life to see it through “What If” goggles. My big adventure will come, until then, I’ll just enjoy the life I’ve already landed.
Just a minute after seating, he made his way to the buffet and filled a plate. Less than 15 minutes later, he returned for another helping. That’s when I noticed he was alone.
Another 15 minutes later, he got up, paid his ticket and proceeded with his Sunday afternoon.
We were casual acquaintances at most and we never did make eye contact, but I couldn’t help wondering about him.
In a few weeks, he’ll jet off to a two and half year tour with the Peace Corps in Africa. That was probably the last time I’ll ever seem him.
Maybe he wanted to enjoy one last meal at one of Brookings best eateries, a locally owned pizza place that is known for its Italian pies as much as its unique selection of Greek food. Maybe he savored each bite of pizza knowing it’ll be two years before he gets the chance to taste the cheesy goodness again.
He knows that his days in Brookings are numbered, a feeling I know and one I wanted to feel again. But moving a few states away is different than moving to a third world country for two years. I tried to picture his thought process and what that normal Sunday meal meant to him.
Maybe this lunch it wasn’t a big deal. Maybe he was just hungry and pizza seemed like the ideal cure.
But I tend to believe he was very conscious of all the things that were coming to an end. His life will drastically change soon, and it’s probably a dramatic thought to take in.
And I was envious.
I couldn’t help but wonder what if that was me. I applied to the Peace Corps and it didn’t work out. But what if it did? What if I was the one leaving in a few days?
I would probably be enjoying that pizza as the last one I’ll ever taste. I would relish each moment with my friends and jam pack my schedule with social events in order to do it.
My heart dropped a bit when I realized that it wasn’t me. Remember, the Peace Corps turned my application down. Yet, big adventures are still in store for me.
At that lunch, my friend and I discussed the big ideas I had in mind and what I would have to do to accomplish them. It makes me excited thinking of all the limitless opportunities that are available at my fingertips.
When I saw him walk out of the restaurant, I wished him a silent good luck. He’ll be a great volunteer, I am sure.
I looked back at my friend and smiled. It was good to be there with her. And as much as I complain, it is good to live this life. My future will be laden with great adventures and sparkling moments, but I can’t concentrate on that when marvelous things happen around me all day.
Seeing him reminded me that me I have what I have for a reason. It’s a rotten life to see it through “What If” goggles. My big adventure will come, until then, I’ll just enjoy the life I’ve already landed.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Saturday Night
It’s almost 8:30 p.m. on a Saturday night and I am sitting on my couch wrapped up in a blanket. After scanning several channels, nothing intrigues. I should probably do some writing, but my motivation is dried up. I stare at my phone, hoping to see a tiny orange envelope on my phone containing a message from someone who wants to be with me at this moment.
Nothing comes. I scour Facebook just in case there was something I missed. That site seems to bring nothing but life frustrations, envy and disappointment anymore. You would think that would deter me from checking my account 86 times a day, but I’ve always been a gluten for a punishment.
Earlier this week, friends suggested the idea of spending the night in Sioux Falls and checking out that scene. One of our friends will be heading back to Whales soon and this was on her to-do list while in the States. The idea of getting away for a night was quite appealing, away from all of my life’s usual stigmas and depressants.
Initially, I thought we would leave late afternoon, early evening. Around 8 p.m., I tried to get the scoop on the night’s plans. One text was unanswered and the other didn’t seem to have any answers. Now, my mind can’t quit.
“Do they not want to go?” “Do they not want me to go with them?” “Are they annoyed with me?” “Is there something they are not telling me?”
Ridiculous, I understand.
Between working two jobs, teaching at my church, volunteering at the shelter and various social appointments, I probably need a night in. I haven’t had more than six hours of sleep each night this week. A friend scolded me for not taking care of myself and getting enough sleep. I haven’t been able to workout much this week and writing, well, there is never time for that anymore.
Yesterday, I hit a wall. Exhausted and mentally spent, I bawled for the first time in months. My life seemed like an ending list of places to be and things to do without any actual living time. All I wanted to do was slow down and start doing the things I want. I want to read the stack of books I keep putting off. I want to watch the TV I pay for but never get the chance to watch. I want to finally unpack from last weekend’s ski trip. I want to write all the stories I’ve meant to in the last month.
Now, I can actually take a breath and hold on to that stillness and I hate it.
In college, I couldn’t stand spending a Friday or Saturday night in. My thoughts would beat me up, forcing me to believe that I was a loser without any friends. Because, if I had friends who thought I was great, then surely I would be doing something that evening instead of watching a movie by myself. The thoughts abused me and created this black, sticky whole inside my stomach. My body shook and nothing could calm me enough to concentrate on one thing for more than five minutes.
Tonight wasn’t any different. As soon as the panic resides, loneliness comes on duty and it takes everything I have to not bawl.
I want to be able to learn to enjoy a night at home by myself, but every time I am presented with the opportunity I freak. I tell myself staying in is nothing to be ashamed of and it’s actually healthy for me, but the crazy side convinces me otherwise.
To stop myself from breaking down, I opened up a word document and just started typing. I forced myself to do this. Words don’t usually seem to flow easy when I am this state, but I needed an outlet. Once again, writing rescued me. It calmed me, it freed me from these suffocating thoughts.
My phone just beeped. The plans are probably called off for the evening, and that is just fine by me. I like the idea of staying in, now that I know that is what is going on.
Before I received the message, I actually hit calm. Why? I just wrote two pages. All those thoughts and the ugly black hole were spilled on to my computer screen and that seemed to be all I needed to smother the panic.
This social insecurity is something I’ve tried to work on, but seems to remain as a problem. Yet, I realized writing is there for me. It’s always there for me. In my weakest moments, in my glory moments, it will be the tool that allows me to find my core.
My hopes of dressing up and flirting with cute men have subsided to a greater idea – spending the night writing. The blog post ideas and excitement are flowing. This might turn out to be a great Saturday evening after all.
Nothing comes. I scour Facebook just in case there was something I missed. That site seems to bring nothing but life frustrations, envy and disappointment anymore. You would think that would deter me from checking my account 86 times a day, but I’ve always been a gluten for a punishment.
Earlier this week, friends suggested the idea of spending the night in Sioux Falls and checking out that scene. One of our friends will be heading back to Whales soon and this was on her to-do list while in the States. The idea of getting away for a night was quite appealing, away from all of my life’s usual stigmas and depressants.
Initially, I thought we would leave late afternoon, early evening. Around 8 p.m., I tried to get the scoop on the night’s plans. One text was unanswered and the other didn’t seem to have any answers. Now, my mind can’t quit.
“Do they not want to go?” “Do they not want me to go with them?” “Are they annoyed with me?” “Is there something they are not telling me?”
Ridiculous, I understand.
Between working two jobs, teaching at my church, volunteering at the shelter and various social appointments, I probably need a night in. I haven’t had more than six hours of sleep each night this week. A friend scolded me for not taking care of myself and getting enough sleep. I haven’t been able to workout much this week and writing, well, there is never time for that anymore.
Yesterday, I hit a wall. Exhausted and mentally spent, I bawled for the first time in months. My life seemed like an ending list of places to be and things to do without any actual living time. All I wanted to do was slow down and start doing the things I want. I want to read the stack of books I keep putting off. I want to watch the TV I pay for but never get the chance to watch. I want to finally unpack from last weekend’s ski trip. I want to write all the stories I’ve meant to in the last month.
Now, I can actually take a breath and hold on to that stillness and I hate it.
In college, I couldn’t stand spending a Friday or Saturday night in. My thoughts would beat me up, forcing me to believe that I was a loser without any friends. Because, if I had friends who thought I was great, then surely I would be doing something that evening instead of watching a movie by myself. The thoughts abused me and created this black, sticky whole inside my stomach. My body shook and nothing could calm me enough to concentrate on one thing for more than five minutes.
Tonight wasn’t any different. As soon as the panic resides, loneliness comes on duty and it takes everything I have to not bawl.
I want to be able to learn to enjoy a night at home by myself, but every time I am presented with the opportunity I freak. I tell myself staying in is nothing to be ashamed of and it’s actually healthy for me, but the crazy side convinces me otherwise.
To stop myself from breaking down, I opened up a word document and just started typing. I forced myself to do this. Words don’t usually seem to flow easy when I am this state, but I needed an outlet. Once again, writing rescued me. It calmed me, it freed me from these suffocating thoughts.
My phone just beeped. The plans are probably called off for the evening, and that is just fine by me. I like the idea of staying in, now that I know that is what is going on.
Before I received the message, I actually hit calm. Why? I just wrote two pages. All those thoughts and the ugly black hole were spilled on to my computer screen and that seemed to be all I needed to smother the panic.
This social insecurity is something I’ve tried to work on, but seems to remain as a problem. Yet, I realized writing is there for me. It’s always there for me. In my weakest moments, in my glory moments, it will be the tool that allows me to find my core.
My hopes of dressing up and flirting with cute men have subsided to a greater idea – spending the night writing. The blog post ideas and excitement are flowing. This might turn out to be a great Saturday evening after all.
Thursday, January 01, 2009
... And the year that will be
Good day in 2009!
A new year is upon us with new adventures ahead. The unmarked year gives us hope that any despair from the previous year will evaporate and only good tidings will embark. Like any other dreamer, I resolve today that this will be the year where it all happens for me. But the realist in me knows that challenges will rise, tears will be shed and not all of my dreams will transpire, but for one day it’s nice to believe that.
In the spirit of January 1, I’ve made a list of resolutions. However, I feel this list is more mature than my previous resolutions. Sure, I would like to lose weight and save money like the best of them, but this is the year I learn to love myself. My resolutions are centered on bringing out the best of myself. As Ann Curry once said “It’s time to be a bold version of your self.”
The biggest resolution of all is to take risks and step out of my comfort zone as much as possible. I’ll never know out far I can go unless I push myself. I seem to always plan things accordingly and take safe chances, but that is not the type of life I want to live. In order to be my best self, I need to be bold.
Other than that, I want to make myself more of a priority and learn to really appreciate the people and things around me. All I want is to be truly happy.
The year is off to a good start. For the first time since high school, I had a good New Year’s eve and I spent the next day playing games and lounging with friends.
Already, it feels, like this could be there.
Wishing you the best of 2009 to you and yours.
A new year is upon us with new adventures ahead. The unmarked year gives us hope that any despair from the previous year will evaporate and only good tidings will embark. Like any other dreamer, I resolve today that this will be the year where it all happens for me. But the realist in me knows that challenges will rise, tears will be shed and not all of my dreams will transpire, but for one day it’s nice to believe that.
In the spirit of January 1, I’ve made a list of resolutions. However, I feel this list is more mature than my previous resolutions. Sure, I would like to lose weight and save money like the best of them, but this is the year I learn to love myself. My resolutions are centered on bringing out the best of myself. As Ann Curry once said “It’s time to be a bold version of your self.”
The biggest resolution of all is to take risks and step out of my comfort zone as much as possible. I’ll never know out far I can go unless I push myself. I seem to always plan things accordingly and take safe chances, but that is not the type of life I want to live. In order to be my best self, I need to be bold.
Other than that, I want to make myself more of a priority and learn to really appreciate the people and things around me. All I want is to be truly happy.
The year is off to a good start. For the first time since high school, I had a good New Year’s eve and I spent the next day playing games and lounging with friends.
Already, it feels, like this could be there.
Wishing you the best of 2009 to you and yours.
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