diannabell

The well has run dry.

Tue, 27 Nov 2012 23:24:19 -0500

I knew it.

And it was confirmed just today.

A simple picture. Nothing said.

It’s fine. And oddly enough, I feel fine.

But it’s strange. I feel this odd numbness where the gut-wrenching pain used to be.

An empty hole that is no longer capable of producing the sadness and tears.

I keep waiting for it to sneak up on me. It might still happen. There is time yet.

But for now, it’s gone. Nowhere to be found.

And I’m thankful, but baffled.

And happy. And a little relieved. But also really wary.

….

I want this to be done on my end. I cut the string. Or rope. Sawed the chain. Whatever it was that kept me tied down to you. So I don’t want it to come back and wrap me up in its hold.

I’m done. And I want to be. And that should be enough.

….

I’m not sure if we’ll ever be friends.

And that’s ok.

For now, I revel in this new hollowed out space that use to hold you, and now holds my sanity.

And so it goes.

Tue, 06 Nov 2012 05:03:00 -0500

I’ll eventually write about my marathon. Just like I’ll eventually update you on all the crazy roommate situation of August that I wrote about, my cavity scare, and my decision to apply for Teach For America.

But for now, I write about my thoughts that come to me at 4:30 a.m. and my twilight revelations. Or realizations.

Ok. And go.

…..

Sometimes, or most times, you just can’t run from things. No matter how many physical miles you put between you, no matter how long it’s been since you’ve talked to them, and no matter how many times you delete them on facebook and twitter (believe me, I tried it many a time)—you just have to deal with it. Because those thoughts and feelings can’t be avoided or ignored. Ever. (This may shock you, but those things come from you, dumby.)

What sucks even more is the realization, that sometimes, to some people, you will just never be enough.

But at the end of the day, that’s ok. I’ve learned, or accepted, that sometimes, you just won’t be enough for a person. No matter how far you run. Literally. No matter how many hours you work. No matter how many miles you move. No matter how many big cities you live in or cool things you do. No matter how much you think you’ve changed on a personal level. You just aren’t enough. And it’s ok. Why? Because as cliched as it is, in the end, the people who do actually matter, care about all your matter that you’ve built. The miles, the cities, and all that damned coolness.

I’ve learned that that gaping, bottomless, aching pit does get smaller with time. Those snide comments, the ambivalence on their part, the statuses and tweets that wonder if they are indeed seeing someone else… they start to matter less. Does the black abyss still threaten to swallow you whole at times? Yes. But it’s clutches aren’t as desperate and all consuming as they once were. The blackness has faded to a charcoal gray. Eventually it just might be a shadow cast on a single day, and then just a moment once in awhile. And then eventually, or hopefully, someone else comes along to make you forget about that person entirely.

I’ve also learned that I’m not done learning. Or exploring. There’s so much I want to do and see. Hell, there’s so much to learn about myself. (I am only 23 after all. So young to be so jaded.) So why should I stop and limit myself to what just one person in my past has expected of me? Or what I think those expectations are?

I’m moving forward. I know I am. I can feel the progress that I’ve made since January.

Yes. Sometimes the past gets ahold of me. But I’ve been better about not dwelling there for too long.

This person is becoming a stranger I put on a pedestal once. And now, thankfully, the pedestal is starting to crumble. Soon, it will be a pile of long-forgotten rubble. Like the Parthenon. Or the Leaning Tower of Pisa. (Ahem. Please don’t excuse the sarcasm.)

One can hope.

The briefest of updates.

Sun, 21 Oct 2012 21:59:57 -0400

Firstly, one week until my marathon. Where did the time go?

Secondly, I’m so happy I found my passion for running again, along with a much more positive outlook on my current life. (It ain’t so bad.)

Thirdly, I will write more tomorrow. (Hopefully.)

Fourthly, I just saw Pitch Perfect and I don’t care whatchu say. I liked it. And I want to sing my heart out. But mostly, it’s becoming refreshing to see more and more celebrities who aren’t rail thin.

I know the media and scholars at large write various articles about the negative body image most girls and women have about themselves based off of the rail-thin images splashed on the covers of magazines, on tv, and leering at us on the ads on our sidebars. But it’s true. These articles are based on facts.

If I can look at someone on screen who has curves and I find them beautiful, then why can’t I, or other girls, say the same about themselves?

I’ve been known to be extremely hard on myself, and it’s something I’m working on…on a daily…no…moment-to-moment basis.

Being health conscience is one thing. Being weight-obsessed is another. Finding the balance between everything is a feat.

All I’m saying is that I appreciate seeing someone who looks normal on the silver screen. It makes a sistah feel a little better about herself and walk a little taller.

It’s fall again. I’ve been in New England a little...

Tue, 25 Sep 2012 14:17:55 -0400

It’s fall again.

I’ve been in New England a little over a year now.

And I’m still impressed by the beauty.

As I’ve gotten older, not much older, I mean I’m only 23, but as I’m getting older, I’ve realized what I truly want out of life and my future. Differentiating my own wants from what other’s crave.

And one thing I’ve realized is that I love nature. My soul starts to shrivel and die like a withered old woman without a lovely stretch of trees and a patch of grass to lounge on.

On my days when I’m most homesick, longing for the comfort of Southern hospitality and my mom’s presence, I go for a run. Out in the trees, which are gradually decaying to their warmer hues. Out in the crisp air that hints at the colder days of winter, and there I feel whole. I escape my own mind, and I’m able to forget about how much I miss the warmer nights of North Carolina, or the afternoons spent in the coffee shop where I used to work, or my pets, or a home-cooked meal from my mom, or the friendly smiles of strangers.

Because out there, in the middle of the woods, everyone is on a level playing field. It doesn’t matter who you are to the trees, the leaves, the birds…

We all resort back to our primal selves. And for me, that’s the purest feeling.

I am my barest self when I’m running; away from civilization; away from jobs, technology, the to-do list sitting on the table waiting to be completed…

There are no expectations out there. Only the most honest sense of self—in that exact place at that exact moment amongst the near-removed wilderness.

Sure, that feeling is temporary, an on the other side of those beautiful oaks lies a highway taking you right back to all the responsibilities and thoughts and emotions that make us more modern humans than our ancestors.

But for that hour or so that I’m running, I’m transported.

(Excuse my transcendentalist ramblings.)

staff: For this year’s installment of Fashion’s Night Out we’re...

Thu, 06 Sep 2012 12:24:08 -0400

staff:

For this year’s installment of Fashion’s Night Out we’re helping Berdgorf Goodman celebrate their 111 years with 111 Tumblr creators, astrologers, designer cameos, GIF booths, and limited edition Tommy tee giveaway. Please join us on September 6, 6-10 PM on the 5th floor on the the Berdgorf women’s store on Fifth Avenue.

Earlier in the night, David will also make a special cameo at the Calvin Klein flagship on Madison.

I always love a cute animal photo.

Uh. Oh. I think my perfect teeth have their first...

Wed, 05 Sep 2012 12:17:59 -0400

Uh. Oh.

I think my perfect teeth have their first imperfection…a cavity.

That’s right, folks. I’m pretty sure I have my very first cavity. Self-diagnosed, of course.

I was examining my pearly, slightly off-whites in the mirror and I’m pretty sure I spotted a cavity. I think.

So, being the hypochondriac that I am, I immediately started googling and yelping dentists all over the Boston area. Mind you, this was at 11 p.m.

Also, it’s about time I had an oral cleaning. (Don’t be gross. I mean the kind from the hygienist.)

But I’m pretty nervous. I don’t do well with anything other than a light scraping.

As a kid, I suffered from an over-crowded mouth and some rather stubborn baby teeth. This meant many a tooth extraction. I literally cringe when I think about the cold, metallic taste that painful needle brings when it’s thrust into my gums….ugh.

And the drooling that comes later. I hate not being able to feel my mouth.

I have no idea what kind of work a cavity brings. Blergh.

I guess I’ll find out tomorrow.

I know you all care. You’re waiting with bated breath.

My stomach is currently in knots. My breathing is erratic. I...

Fri, 17 Aug 2012 17:30:04 -0400

My stomach is currently in knots. My breathing is erratic. I find myself constantly exhaling loudly throughout my day. I break out in a cold sweat in the middle of the night.

What’s the cause of this?

An upswing in my intake of caffeine?

No.

Food poisoning?

No.

The cause of this extreme anxiety is a Craigslist Trickster.

The definition of a Trickster, not by Merriam Webster, but by your’s truly, is a person of shady intent. They lure in a reasonably unsuspecting, sweet, friendly person, and then lie to them about ridiculous details. They also try to take advantage of them in some form. Like by stealing their hard-earned money. Money that has been earned through many a latte, cappuccino, and shot of espresso. Money that has been earned by hours upon hours standing and listening to the complaints of the rich, upper-class who just want a decent fat-free, soy, vanilla, extra-dry, decaf latte for crying out loud! (For the record, the aforementioned drink is requested on a daily basis, and in my personal opinion is not coffee. Sorry.)

Merriam’s definition of a trickster is much simpler. “A dishonest person who defrauds others by tricks.”

And that my, dear Tumblr friend(s), is where my story begins. Grab a drink and some popcorn and get cozy. I have quite the story for you.

…

My lease was coming to a close, and I wanted to beat the students to the punch by finding a place before September 1st, which is basically city-wide moving day. There are 70-some colleges in the Boston area. That is a lot of students. All moving to start school. I didn’t not want to be involved in that mess. So I started my apartment hunt.

I was seeking out a place that was quiet, clean, nice, located a little closer to work, but still close to amenities. I wanted it to have free parking or on-street parking. Maybe a porch or two, and include free laundry. Hey, a girl can dream, right?

I found plenty of places, some met most of the requirements, but the roommates were either ridiculous, or decided to let a relative of another roommate live there.

It wasn’t me. It was them.

I eventually found a place that was awesome. It had air conditioning (!!!!), a back porch, free parking, free laundry, and was beautiful. I was all set to put down a deposit when I learned that their landlord would not be renewing their lease come December.

I really didn’t want to change my address two times in one year or go through the hassle of packing and unpacking that many time. I really hate packing. So I backed out and began the search again, renewed in my desire to find something amazing.

I scoured Craigslist and Padmapper. Street-viewing and e-mailing until my fingers were cramped and my wrists were close to carpal tunnel.

I saw apartments that were super crappy—reeking of cat urine and cigarettes. I found some that were awesome, but a little too pricey.

And then I found my dream place.

Two porches. A yard. Free parking. Laundry in the basement that wasn’t coin-operated. Air conditioning. A ton of windows…

The only downside was that the room was a little smaller than the rest of those in the apartment and also had these cut-outs in the wall that made it a little awkward privacy-wise, but the room came with cheaper rent. And the girl who was showing me the place assured me that her dad was going to fill in the holes. He worked in construction and knew how to do that sort of thing.

Sweet! It met every requirement and more.

And more.

More.

Boy, was I in for more.

Two days after seeing the place, the girl texted me asking if I was interested. I told her YES! But she had mentioned the price being negotiable for the room, so I wanted to further discuss it. The room wasn’t worth the $600 asking price, so I wanted to see if I could knock it down a bit.

She offered $500 and I jumped on it, of course. $500 is cheap rent for Beantown. Really cheap. (I should have been suspicious here, but I wasn’t.) I was technically subleasing from her, so I thought I was just able to get a better deal this way. Whatever.

She texted me back a little later saying that she’d been thinking it over and she really couldn’t do any lower than $550. She asked if that would be ok.

I can sympathize with agreeing to something that sounds good at the time, but later makes you pretty uncomfortable. So I said sure. $550 was fine by me.

I went to my new house to drop off the check for first and last months rent and the deposit.

The girl, who we will now refer to as ‘T’, was there painting her room along with a boy who was as pale as the full moon with hair as fiery as the sun. He will be known as ‘G’ for ginger. If that’s derogatory, apologies. Just pretend ‘G’ stands for good at being a moocher. Actually. We’ll call him ‘M’ for Moochy.

I noticed T had paint all over herself. Upon further inspection, not only was she covered in paint, but she had also spilt bright yellow paint on the floor. The carpeted floor.

Oh, well. I figured she’d work it out. It would probably come out with a steam cleaner, right?

T was super friendly and told me that the other girls would be moving in within the week, one of which she claimed she met in college. The other girl was a friend of the other roommate. Or so she said.

She encouraged me to come back tomorrow and start moving my things in and that she’d be in touch soon with paperwork from the landlord.

I was feeling happy and elated as I drove back to my stuffy, dilapidated apartment.

I would soon be living in a place with air conditioning and porches! What a great find!

I began gathering my things. I packed clothes, moved a dresser and tv. Accumulated boxes and bubble wrap.

Box by box, I began my move.

I met the two other girls and was pleased to learn that they were incredibly awesome.

We all were talking and laughing and getting along extremely well…for the first few hours.

Then, the next day, the drama started seeping in. Through the screen porch doors. through the beautiful drapery hung in the windows. Out of the beautiful wood floors.

It became apparent that M wasn’t dating T. He was what you call a ‘fuck buddy’. A buddy that thought it was perfectly fine to stay here the entire week T was on vacation. A buddy who thought it was ok to invite friends over when T wasn’t here. A guy who thought it was perfectly fine to kiss one of T’s roommates on their very first night in the house, while T was upstairs asleep.

D-R-A-M-A.

Not ok.

Two days after the kissing incident, which literally happened on my roommate’s first night in the apartment, we were out to dinner. We started talking about the kiss, T and M’s ‘relationship’ or lack-there-of, what M was doing at our house all of the time, why he had a key (alarming to learn), and how much we were all paying for rent. And when I learned the numbers I was floored.

Up until that conversation, I had no idea concerning the break-down of the rent. But my roommate quickly let me know I was really getting ripped-off.

Two of my roommates lived on the second floor and were paying $700. The top floor all together was $900. So while I was paying $550 to live in a quarter of the floor and not even use the bathroom, T was paying $350 and had her own bathroom.

What the what?

Like I said, I was stunned.

And then the lies really started surfacing. After including our third roommate in on the chat, we learned that no one previously knew one another before moving in. She had told each one of us that she had known the other in advance.

I’m not quite sure why she lied about that. Roommates meet on Craigslist all the time.

Then I asked to see a copy of the lease. I wanted to see if it stated anything about subleasing.

It did.

And it said that she wasn’t allowed to have them.

I almost started hyperventilating right then and there. I also felt like an idiot. A gullible girl who just handed over a check for $1650 to a complete liar.

We all began freaking out. My other roommates were worried about their security deposits and the violation made on the lease, which I completely understood.

I was worrying because I could easily be kicked out, leaving me homeless and poor. (I’m still currently worried about these things, but I’ll get high with a little help from my friends. Wasn’t that what The Beatles said?)

Along with painting, altering the rooms, and having a sublettor, she also smoked in the apartment. Color me completely livid.

….

Sidebar:

I was sitting in my room, and all of a sudden, the pungent smell of tobacco and nicotine started wafting through the air.

I started calling for T, but to no avail. After waiting a few minutes, I went to her room and called again and she responded with “What’s up?”

“Uhm, my room smells like cigarettes. I think the smoke is coming through the vent in my room,” I said.

“Oh. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

…

She literally had zero respect for our house and the people living here. But the thing is, I think she felt more entitled to the home because her dad helped her find it. So to add to the list of grievances, she’s also spoiled.

Terrific.

Ughh. So after finding out I wasn’t legally allowed to be here and how little she was paying in rent, we all had a sit down talk. A preliminary Pow Wow. Or Prilimawow, if you will. (Community forever!)

We confronted her about everything. The boy coming and going. How much I was paying versus how much she was paying, and the fact that I was there in clear violation of the rent.

She said she would fix everything. I then told her she would pay $500 and I would pay $400 for rent. I thought that was a pretty generous deal for having her own bathroom and giant space.

And she also agreed to that.

….

A couple of days went by, and I still hadn’t heard if I’d gotten the go-ahead to live here…legally. So I asked T again about what was going on. She said she’d e-mailed our landlord about the possibility of having a sublettor, leaving out the small detail that I was in fact already in the process of moving in and already staying there.

Two more days go by, and then the ball dropped… and exploded. She came into my room a little after midnight and told me the landlord got back to her and told her I had to move out.

I didn’t really know what to say. It was after midnight and my mind wasn’t able to absorb any more bad news.

….

I awoke this morning, feeling completely overwhelmed. A feeling I’ve been waking up with ever since the lies started surfacing.

My non-T roommates made an agreement that we needed to talk to the landlord. Immediately. And we needed to be completely honest about everything.

I have never been more sick of lies in my entire life and I now truly understand why honesty is the best policy. It’s a cliche for a reason.

…..

So now I’m sitting in limbo. Or purgatory. I’m not sure which is more fitting.

I don’t know whether I will need to move out and find another place, or if I can replace T on the lease. And if that happens, I don’t know if my other roommates will want to pay a little more to help living here with just a total of three people possible for me.

….

So buyers beware, Craigslist tricksters are indeed tricky. And maybe I am a little gullible and naive. But when someone out and out lies to you, how are you supposed to know what’s really going on?

Also, just be honest. It’s better for everyone in the long run. Plus, I’ve seen enough TV to know that lies always come out in the end. Someone needs to tell those pretty little liars what’s up. Because the truth will set them free from A. Come on, ladies! Get with the program!

…

Stay tuned for an update on this saga.

Day (?)...Epic Fail.

Tue, 07 Aug 2012 21:27:13 -0400

So.

I fell out of the blogosphere for a bit. But I haven’t been resting on my laurels. Much.

I’ve been working. And learning to drive a manual. And running.

I swear!

Tumblrverse, I’m sorry I neglected you. But my written absence only made my heart grow fonder!

…

Enough with the apologies.

I have been running my ass off. I’m up to a minimum of 55 minutes with long runs in the 90 to 105-minute range. I call that progress.

My biggest battle has been maneuvering my runs into my work schedule.

The constant changing between morning and evening shifts throws off my sleeping pattern and then my running quickly follows. But, I’m learning to look forward to my runs as a stress-relieving part of my day.

Basically, just retraining my mind. My body can do the work. Now, my mind has to get on board.

I’m beginning to rethink my goal of an October marathon, however.

Instead of jumping straight into 26.2 miles, maybe I should start with a half.

Baby steps, Dianna. Baby steps.

Hey. I’ve got ambition, ok?

That, and an internet-less apartment. Make that two internet-less apartments.

I’m in the process of moving out of college and alcohol-infused Allston and into Watertown.

Besides having new roommates, I’m pretty excited about exploring new running routes.

While packing, I found a running book. And not just any running book. It was a book of running routes around Boston. I think I was given this book right before I moved, and once unpacked, sat forgotten on one of my many shelves.

But it’s a timely reappearance. I hit a rut the last couple of weeks. Each and every run felt tired and miserable, but I did them, nonetheless.

Perseverance, my friends.

So when my minds start loosening its grip on my lofty marathon goal, this book finding its way back to the forefront is so apropos.

New apartment, new running routes, and in general, a renewal on the goals I had in mind in March.

So I guess I’ll start fresh.

Day 1. Moving. In more ways than one.

Day 2.

Thu, 07 Jun 2012 17:33:40 -0400

So, I’m only on day 2 of my challenge week, and I’m already struggling.

Not so much with the sugar or water aspects, but with the running. I ran 88 minutes yesterday, and today, I just don’t want to step out of the apartment.

(Although, I did to acquire food. A necessary duty. I. Need. Food.)

I think what will help me get through today is just running. Period.

Not setting a time restraint on myself. Just going.

My mind-set as of late has been “doing something is better than doing nothing.”

And so on that note, I’m going to go put on some spandex and get out there.

Riggghhhttt…..NOW.

Running in the rain. For weeks. Apparently, New England’s...

Tue, 05 Jun 2012 16:16:00 -0400

Running in the rain. For weeks.

Apparently, New England’s April showers are arriving fashionably late. And showing up with a force.

It’s literally been raining for a solid two weeks with maybe a day break to see the long-forgotten sun.

Is it still there? Does it still exist?

I don’t mind the dreary weather. I kind of enjoy it. The only down side to precipitation is how sleepy it makes me. And lazy.

All I feel like doing is throwing on some sweats, a jumpsuit of gray, cuddling up on a pallet of pillows (from a lack of living room furniture), and baking.

These things combined sound absolutely lovely, but are not conducive to marathon training.

Absolutely horrible.

So, after having said day yesterday, and eating aforementioned baked goods today, I decided it was time to jump-start my commitment and reinvest myself to my training.

And if I shed a few pounds in the process, I can’t say that I’ll mind.

So. To kick it off, I’m enrolling myself in a self-prescribed ‘boot camp’.

I’m aiming for two weeks, but my actual goal is a week.

And what does this week-long boot camp entail?

Well let me tell you.

For starters, I have to run a minimum of 75 minutes every day. I’m allowing myself one day off a week. I took yesterday off, so that’s it and that’s all for the remaining days.

Sugar, it’s been real. But I have to put you back on the shelf for a while. A shelf in a safe. Under lock and key…a key which I won’t have access to. I’m addicted to your lovin’!

So for two weeks, as little sugar as possible. So that means no vanilla lattes, no mochas, no scones, no muffins… le sigh.

Also, water. More water. 100 fluid ounces a day, to be exact. I don’t drink nearly enough water, and combined with my daily dose of caffeine…well, let’s just say I’m feeling a little parched.

My final challenge is to do at least 2 minutes of plank every day and 20 push-ups. This may not seem super tough or that important, but the little things help, in my opinion.

Ok. This is going to be rather hard, not because I have a hard time telling myself no…oh, wait. I do.

But also, I’m not the most conscientious about what I’m consuming at times. So hopefully I think before I eat.

And go.

Marathon.

Wed, 23 May 2012 16:11:43 -0400

So. I’ve decided I’m running a marathon in October.

I haven’t decided which one, but the training has begun.

And it feels amazing.

Overall.

My right arch has been killing me as of late, but I persist! And endure.

Endurance. That’s what it’s all about, really.

I need to buy new running shoes and more running clothes.

My thunder thighs are having some serious chaffing issues. I guess the way to slimmer thighs is to just rub the skin off. Easy enough, right?

Sorry if that was disgusting, but it’s part of the reality of training. The ugly part no one talks about.

But back to the good parts…

Yesterday, I did my long run for the week. 2 hours in the pouring rain along the coast of Cape Cod. I also added in a 3-mile progression run in the second half. While I’m not some super fast Olympic athlete, what I’m doing makes me happy. So, yes. I reserve the right to brag. On my blog.

Whatever.

It wasn’t easy. I don’t mean to make it sound that way. It was hard. Running longer on each run is a mental challenge, more so than physical.

I just get really anxious. I get anxious that I won’t be able to make it. That I’ll get close to the finish and then fail.

If you couldn’t tell, I’m pretty scared of failure. But failure is an automatic if you never try. Something inspirational was once said along those lines.

So why do I keep doing it? Pushing myself to this point of fear, exhaustion, and pain? (Oxford comma, ftw!)

Because the sense of accomplishment I get afterwards far exceeds all the rest.

My run is the purest and most positive part of my day.

For that single hour, I’m not doing any harm to anyone. I’m not gossiping, whining, or complaining.

I’m planting one foot in front of the other and taking myself out of the realm of modern-day humanity and replacing it all with one simplistic idea: move faster, go farther.

It also doesn’t hurt that I’m getting in better shape.

The endorphins are nice, too.

Set backs. These occur when dieting and exercising. Overhauling...

Tue, 24 Apr 2012 16:20:58 -0400

Set backs.

These occur when dieting and exercising.

Overhauling bad habits is hard work, and it’s quite easy to slip-up.

For me, it’s pastries. Of all kinds.

Muffins, scones, croissants, chocolate croissants, almond croissants, coffee cake…

And, ohhhh the chocolate.

I could keep going, but this list is already torturous enough.

And what’s even harder? I’m tempted everyday at work. Coffee shops and pastries go hand in hand. What’s even worse? The pastry case is adjacent to the espresso machine. Seriously?

My will power is on par with that of a rock. I’m assuming rocks don’t have will power. I mean, they just sit there. Unless an avalanche occurs. Then they all come tumbling down.

And that’s what happened to my will power these last few days. It came tumbling down and fell at the mighty feet of the evil Sugar.

My running has been on par, though, so I can take solace in that.

I’ve been doing interval runs 2-3 times a week and I quite like them. It’s almost like a game. Mastering each level until I get to the boss.

And in this case, the mighty mighty boss will be the Boston Marathon.

That’s my lofty goal: I want to qualify for the 2014 Boston Marathon.

As for a short term goal: I’m challenging myself to 8 days of no sugar. And by that, I mean no processed sugar. So goodbye, muffins. Sayonara, croissants and scones.

Why only 8 days? Because May 3rd is on the 9th day and that, dear readers, is this lady’s birthday. And I will not deny myself the fun frivolities that sugar brings on that most holy of days.

So there.

Health & Fitness.

Fri, 13 Apr 2012 14:38:00 -0400

So, I’m repurposing this blog.

I’ve been attempting to re-motivate myself and my efforts to get back in shape.

Don’t worry. I haven’t lost complete touch with reality. I know I’m not grossly overweight or out of shape.

My body has just made some changes since graduating college and not being forced to do daily workouts via cross country and track practice.

And now, I’m mentally and physically suffering for not having been more proactive.

So, I’m going on week 5 of my exercise and healthy eating lifestyle. (Yes. I’m calling it what every other dieter calls it: a lifestyle change.)

And I find myself slipping. Especially with all of the chocolate from Easter (thanks, Mom!) and my Uncle’s funeral and all of the sugar and mayonaise that comes along with funeral food. (Thanks, Unlce Stan and concerned loved-ones!)

My will power has been waning. But I’m not completely off the wagon yet.

No, no. I’m clinging on with my finger tips. Holding on to the edge. Well. Really. I’m just looking down over the edge, thinking about jumping off the wagon.

But I will not be left behind in the dust! My resolve is strong.

So I will be updating all of you who read this, and I know there are oh so many, on my trials and tribulations as well as some tips on working out at home.

Because this poor girl can’t afford a gym. Well, I can. It’s just called the home gym. Don’t be surprised if you read about my foray into weight lifting using canned goods. (It happens.)

….

So for today’s update, I realized I need to add in some interval training and be more conscientious on what I’m eating and how much. Also, strength training needs to happen twice a week.

I’ve been running almost every day, with the occasional day off when work prevents me from running (or my will power is at an all time low). The past three days, I’ve hit 50 minutes of running.

I’ve also been logging said exercise and food with a website called My Fitness Pal. It’s quite handy and your friends can join and give you support, or you can make new friends and form your own community online. This website requires much honesty, though. You have to admit to yourself how much you’re eating and how often.

Honesty is the best and only policy when it comes to healthy living.

Another website that is going to prove to be extremely useful is Body Rock. A friend recommended this site to me, and so far, I’ve only done one work out, partially. And it was tough. And also reminded me of a soft-core porno.

Exercise with slight eroticism? Ok, I guess.

One more website that has helpful and healthful is FitSugar. There are all kinds of articles, recipes, and videos on what and how to diet and exercise your way to a happier body.

One thing to keep in mind is that it’s one right choice at a time. One step in the right direction does count no matter how many times you fall off the wagon.

septagonstudios: Dale Grimshaw With each passing day, I feel...

Mon, 02 Apr 2012 10:46:14 -0400

septagonstudios:

Dale Grimshaw

With each passing day, I feel like I’m getting closer to my old self. Making the right choices can be hard, but ultimately oh so worth it.

...

Mon, 26 Mar 2012 17:49:04 -0400

I need to update more. I just refrained for awhile when my posts became more and more depressing.

Who needs to read about my trivial problems?

Nobody.

septagonstudios: Yehrin Tong

Mon, 30 Jan 2012 21:12:28 -0500

septagonstudios:

Yehrin Tong

septagonstudios: Mathis Rekowski

Sun, 22 Jan 2012 11:28:56 -0500

septagonstudios:

Mathis Rekowski

septagonstudios: Mandy Tsung This is super creepy and super...

Tue, 17 Jan 2012 21:55:36 -0500

septagonstudios:

Mandy Tsung

This is super creepy and super cool all at the same time.

Running.

Fri, 13 Jan 2012 18:26:36 -0500

So.

I haven’t run in 10 days.

Until today, that is.

Why is that, you ask?

I was kind of scared. I know that sounds ridiculous. I’ve been running virtually everyday for the past 8 years.

But then I moved to Boston. I lost myself for awhile. And now I’m back.

10 days is the longest period I’ve gone without running in I can’t tell you how long.

My last run was only 36 minutes long and it felt awful.

I feel like I’m out of shape. And that’s a terrible feeling. Insanely horrific.

It’s hard to deal with not being an athlete anymore.

As pretentious as this sounds, it just set me apart from the majority of the people surrounding me. It made me feel different. Special.

And then I graduated college and was left to be a recreational runner like everyone in America.

I’m part of the majority.

This is where I started losing my passion. I stopped caring about running for awhile.

I still have an iffy relationship with the sport. We’re only now reconciling. I’m sure we’ll have more bumps down the road, but alas, I’m in love and in this for the long haul.

Ok. That’s the end of that relationship analogy.

But today, I wanted to get back out there and get back to what I know.

I told myself just an easy 30 minutes. 30 turned into 40. Then 45.

Then 50.

And then I found myself standing outside of my door at 63 minutes.

I have endurance. And whether or not I’m an athlete or just a recreational runner, endurance is something I’ll always have.

The ability to keep going under extreme circumstances. To push myself farther than I thought I could go.

And that’s what I’ve been doing ever since I moved to Boston.

-End of cliches and metaphors.-

nprradiopictures: Killer sunset overlooking Bryant Park ice...

Mon, 09 Jan 2012 10:03:26 -0500

nprradiopictures:

Killer sunset overlooking Bryant Park ice rink from NPR’s NYC bureau. BONKERS. (Mito Habe-Evans/NPR) via Instagram