When you're little, Christmas brings a month of perfect moments. The presents, the magic of Santa and all those elves and reindeer, the smiles on all the adults faces whose lives revolve completely around you for that one day; it's fantastic. You can hardly sleep the night before, as you hear every creak the house makes, and you're sure it's HIM. You rush into your parents room earlier than you'll ever want to get up for school, or any other day, and jump on their bed and scream until they wake up and take you to open the presents. There are more than you remember, and the stockings are full. The smell of cinnamon rolls fills the air (at least in my house) and you begin the day. It's perfect.
Then as you grow up the magic begins to fade away. Your parents become flawed liars as you discover that they're human. Even worse, you discover that you're human, and have somehow grown up.
Responsibilities set in and weigh all the magic right out of the season. Instead of wondering what Santa is bringing and whether or not you were a good little boy or girl, you worry about who is on "gift giving levels" of friendship, what to get your dad, and how you're going to afford all of this stuff that you had to fight thousands of other crazed shoppers for downtown. You worry about booking flights across country to visit your family and catching up on work before you take time off. If you're not careful, you may lose the magic all together.
But, at least for me, there is always that one moment, when my nose is flushed red and I'm bundled up walking downtown. It's right as I'm walking home from work, it's beginning to get dark, and all the lights on State Street have come on. There are hundreds of people shuffling through the streets surrounding me, trying to shop, get home, or just trying to get indoors. All of a sudden the flakes start to float down, and the world becomes silent. Everything is perfect.
I'm immediately transported back to the magic of being young, and full of life. I stick my tongue out and close my eyes and just smile as I walk. All those people shuffling by don't seem to notice, but I do, and it makes me feel special, and warm, and completely happy. Because in that moment, I'm 10 years old, standing in my front yard in New Mexico in my teal green snow pants with my little sister, and my parents, and the neighborhood kids, and we're freezing but throwing snow balls and anxiously awaiting hot chocolate and dry clothes. We'll file inside at dark and my dad will try to light a fire. It will end up filling the house with smoke, and we'll all laugh at him, because it's three against one and that's what we do.
It's a perfect moment. And it brings back the hope, and the magic, and the warmth of the season that we all remember and spend the rest of our lives chasing. It makes everything feel new and quiet, and the stress floats down through the gutters along with those perfect white flakes and I take a deep breath, thankful I'm alive, and for everything I have.
It's my hope this Christmas season (and Hanukkah, and Kwanzaa seasons too) that you find your perfect moment and be in it. Remember your inner child and let him or her enjoy the moment in a way you've forgotten. Wholly, uninhibitedly, and fearlessly.
With Love and Hope,
Balls
December 12, 2012
November 17, 2012
#24 Pole Work
My adventurous friend Jessica and I both shaved our legs, left them unlotioned, and put on our short shorts today for a day of awkwardness. It was hard, I was ungraceful and somewhat unsexy (I mean, you can't take away all the sexy in just one hour) and my legs are bruised and sore from squeezing/banging into the pole. It was so much fun!
First we took pictures on the pole:
First we took pictures on the pole:
Jess tried to hold on for dear life.
I just tried to look as fun as possible, hiding my nerves and uncertainty.
We had a really fun instructor named Kristen and she clearly had ballet training because she kept using the word plie and looked entirely too graceful on her pole. We danced to Rihanna's "Diamonds" and I tried my best to keep up.
Without any dance training and even though I have rhythm in general, a choreographed dance routine is hard work. Even harder when you're trying to look sexy, hold a pole, and try not to get dizzy!
In the end, I learned one trick and a couple spins. The trick never really worked out for me. But for your viewing and judging pleasure, I present to you, my attempt at a spin:
I'm one more item checked off, a little sore, and ready for Africa! I'll talk to you all in December.
Happy Thanksgiving, Friends!
Balls
November 5, 2012
#25 in the 30 by 30
Thanks to the support of my donors, and my friend Sharday (pictured - and I hope that's okay) I was able to climb 103 flights of stairs (that's over 2,000 stairs total) to the skydeck floor of the Sears (refuse to call it Willis) Tower.
I'm actually surprised that my legs feel fine today. A little tired but definitely not anything close to what I expected. The climb wasn't even really that hard on my legs, it was hard on my lungs. The air was so dry in the stairwell, and so hot, that my lungs were burning very early on. The heat and dry air also sapped all moisture from my body by floor 30 and I got a dehydration headache. This caused me to stop more often than I would have liked and definitely hurt my time. But I finished in a respectable 47:38.
Sharday and I then went to lunch where I ate entirely too much bread. It was great.
Thanks again to all your encouraging words, and donations to make this possible!
Balls
October 26, 2012
Everything is Just Fine
So maybe, just maybe, people read my blog and think I'm an angry person. Apparently my mother is one of these people. Here's that conversation (and don't judge me, I couldn't get the proper format for dialogue in this program):
"Hey mom, I love you so much. Did you read my latest blog post? I hope it's to your liking. I
really only ever want to make you proud of me."
"I did, and I hate it. You seem so bitter and unhappy all the time. Why are you so angry? Why can't you be happy, and decent, and wonderful like my other daughter, who gave me my beautiful granddaughter who can also do no wrong in my eyes? Then maybe I'd buy you a horse, or put in a pool for you."
Perhaps that's not how it really went; and perhaps someday I will get over the fact that my sister had a pony when we were little, or that my parents just put in a pool for my niece. Stranger things have happened.
But you get the point - I have a penchant for exaggeration.
But you get the point - I have a penchant for exaggeration.
I'm a happy, loving, wonderful person who loves my life and family and friends and dog and on and on, I just love to exaggerate. Couple that with a low bull shit tolerance, and outspoken nature and this makes me seem a little angry sometimes; but I'm not... I swear... everything in life is great... honest...So lay off, mom!
Sheesh.
October 25, 2012
The Death of Common Decency
Let me start this post off by saying I love Chicago. I love the big city. I love that there is always something interesting going on; I appreciate that even if I'm just sitting on my couch with Oreo. Hey, at least I have the option! I love the diverse neighborhoods filled with interesting people, and cultural learning opportunities.
But there is one group of Chicagoans I absolutely hate.
I'm talking, of course, about fellow El riders. For those of you not in the know, the "El" is the train portion of Chicago's public transportation nightmare. It is shortened from the word "elevated", because most of the lines are, in fact, elevated (rather than underground like the subway of New York). These people come in every race, shape, creed, color and scent known to man, and they all deserve to be pushed right off the platform.
Never mind the fact that I am forced to sit, or more likely stand, somewhere I know someone has urinated or defecated at one point or another. Never mind the guy walking up and down the aisles preaching about Jesus and trying to save me. Ignore the Native American guy who is (stereotypically) drunk and yelling "white man" in my ear and going on about how I stole his land and raped his women (true story, folks). These things I can chalk up to inadequate mental health resources and/or the state of the economy. I feel empathy and patience for these people.
The people I am talking about are the four business men, of about 30 years of age who stepped directly in front of me as I patiently waited for people to exit the train this morning. They pushed passed those exiting, in front of me, and took the last little space on that particular car. I'm talking about the guy who makes his business call right next to me on my morning commute, obnoxiously yelling about whether to buy or sell, and laughing like a jackass. (Doesn't he know that the rush hour commutes are to be silent? It's an unspoken rule, people!). I'm also talking about the able bodied people who sit in their seats by the door, ignoring the pregnant or elderly person who they just saw get on the train. I'm speaking directly to the guys who sit, with their legs in a wide V formation, taking up half my seat as if to show the world how large their testicles are.
These people, my fellow Chicagoans, who suffer not from mental health issues, or poor hygiene due to lack of adequate housing; suffer from the greatest disease plaguing man and woman kind today. It's a lack of common courtesy. I see it every day, so many times a day doors are not held for me, I am cut off, and I am forced to listen to other peoples music and conversations about herpes.
Every day I fight the battle in my head about whether to do what is courteous, and continue trying to lead by example and being utterly frustrated with life, or to become the same selfish and ignorant asshole I am surrounded by. I feel myself losing this battle a little more each day.
If you can't beat them, join them, right?
But there is one group of Chicagoans I absolutely hate.
I'm talking, of course, about fellow El riders. For those of you not in the know, the "El" is the train portion of Chicago's public transportation nightmare. It is shortened from the word "elevated", because most of the lines are, in fact, elevated (rather than underground like the subway of New York). These people come in every race, shape, creed, color and scent known to man, and they all deserve to be pushed right off the platform.
Never mind the fact that I am forced to sit, or more likely stand, somewhere I know someone has urinated or defecated at one point or another. Never mind the guy walking up and down the aisles preaching about Jesus and trying to save me. Ignore the Native American guy who is (stereotypically) drunk and yelling "white man" in my ear and going on about how I stole his land and raped his women (true story, folks). These things I can chalk up to inadequate mental health resources and/or the state of the economy. I feel empathy and patience for these people.
The people I am talking about are the four business men, of about 30 years of age who stepped directly in front of me as I patiently waited for people to exit the train this morning. They pushed passed those exiting, in front of me, and took the last little space on that particular car. I'm talking about the guy who makes his business call right next to me on my morning commute, obnoxiously yelling about whether to buy or sell, and laughing like a jackass. (Doesn't he know that the rush hour commutes are to be silent? It's an unspoken rule, people!). I'm also talking about the able bodied people who sit in their seats by the door, ignoring the pregnant or elderly person who they just saw get on the train. I'm speaking directly to the guys who sit, with their legs in a wide V formation, taking up half my seat as if to show the world how large their testicles are.
These people, my fellow Chicagoans, who suffer not from mental health issues, or poor hygiene due to lack of adequate housing; suffer from the greatest disease plaguing man and woman kind today. It's a lack of common courtesy. I see it every day, so many times a day doors are not held for me, I am cut off, and I am forced to listen to other peoples music and conversations about herpes.
Every day I fight the battle in my head about whether to do what is courteous, and continue trying to lead by example and being utterly frustrated with life, or to become the same selfish and ignorant asshole I am surrounded by. I feel myself losing this battle a little more each day.
If you can't beat them, join them, right?
October 6, 2012
One Away
I was sitting on the train yesterday, having just had all these conversations with friends who are adding to their families, or getting married, or working their dreams jobs, and I was having a sad/contemplative moment. I look up and see a cute guy (one whom I've never seen since I was taking an earlier train that day). We made eye contact so I smiled briefly and looked away, out the window, blushing. Let me stop right there and address the skeptical look on your face. I am shy. I am loud and obnoxious and outgoing, but when it comes to attractive men, I am socially awkward, blushy and ridiculous.
As I looked out the window contemplating my utter lack of charm, I thought about how comfortable I am in my new (slimmer) life, and how I want to be moving forward and start thinking about adding people to it. Let me say that I'm happy in my life and perfectly content to be single, but I'm no spring chicken (as they would say seventy years ago) and I need to start being a little more pushy in getting myself out in the world if I want things to change.
I had never seen this cute guy before, but I had never taken this train before. I suddenly had an epiphany that all it takes is one moment to change your life. In the past few years this has manifested in a negative way. There have been moments when things change in an instant and they've all been bad. But this doesn't have to be the case. It dawned on me that life can be changed for the better in an instant too. Maybe that smile could have turned in to a conversation, and a date and on and on. Maybe (as was this case) it was just a nice moment and nothing more.
I spend so much time on the same trains, and in the same bars, going to the same events with the same people, and obviously it's not moving me forward (surprising that hanging out with all married/attached friends isn't helping me in my relationship search, huh?!). My routine makes me feel like I'm so far away from my future; but really I'm just one change away from everything I've dreamed.
So what can I change today?
As I looked out the window contemplating my utter lack of charm, I thought about how comfortable I am in my new (slimmer) life, and how I want to be moving forward and start thinking about adding people to it. Let me say that I'm happy in my life and perfectly content to be single, but I'm no spring chicken (as they would say seventy years ago) and I need to start being a little more pushy in getting myself out in the world if I want things to change.
I had never seen this cute guy before, but I had never taken this train before. I suddenly had an epiphany that all it takes is one moment to change your life. In the past few years this has manifested in a negative way. There have been moments when things change in an instant and they've all been bad. But this doesn't have to be the case. It dawned on me that life can be changed for the better in an instant too. Maybe that smile could have turned in to a conversation, and a date and on and on. Maybe (as was this case) it was just a nice moment and nothing more.
I spend so much time on the same trains, and in the same bars, going to the same events with the same people, and obviously it's not moving me forward (surprising that hanging out with all married/attached friends isn't helping me in my relationship search, huh?!). My routine makes me feel like I'm so far away from my future; but really I'm just one change away from everything I've dreamed.
So what can I change today?
September 18, 2012
The Fix
I just needed a little fix.
It started last Sunday. We were talking about it at Holiday Club. How I went through a phase of my life where I went through pounds of the stuff. I should have known better than to talk about it. Got me thinking about it, craving it, again.
I fought hard. I stuck to my guns and I fought that urge for almost seven days. I was doing good. I was keeping my nose clean and yet in the back of my mind, the nagging voice kept calling. "You know you want some... just a little fix...".
By the following Sunday afternoon I was worn down, exhausted from fighting the urge so I gave in. "I only need a little bit. Just to get rid of the craving, I'll get a little bit and then share with friends". I slipped on my shoes, all the while knowing what I was about to do was wrong. I knew I'd regret it. I knew I'd hate myself a little when I was done. But the craving was stronger than my pride. I pulled my hoodie over my head and grabbed my keys.
My heart raced in anticipation as I walked briskly towards my demise. "Just five more minutes and I'll have it, just pay the gal and keep moving, don't think about it too much, just go!"
I got home and put my sweat pants on and curled up on the couch with Oreo. I cut the top and peeled back the wrapping to reveal the golden, oatmeal color flecked with a darker, richer chocolate chips. My mouth waters; Nestle Tollhouse, how I've missed you.
I told myself I'd stop at 3 cookies worth. That was half a tube ago. I fell and I fell hard.
When all was said and done I'd eaten a whole tube in a 24 hour period. I'm not proud of myself, I'm not too hard on myself, but I have learned that I'll never be able to make my future children cookies. They'll never make it to the oven, and I have to stay clear of the stuff for good.
My name is Lindsey, and I'm a cookie dough addict.
Balls
It started last Sunday. We were talking about it at Holiday Club. How I went through a phase of my life where I went through pounds of the stuff. I should have known better than to talk about it. Got me thinking about it, craving it, again.
I fought hard. I stuck to my guns and I fought that urge for almost seven days. I was doing good. I was keeping my nose clean and yet in the back of my mind, the nagging voice kept calling. "You know you want some... just a little fix...".
By the following Sunday afternoon I was worn down, exhausted from fighting the urge so I gave in. "I only need a little bit. Just to get rid of the craving, I'll get a little bit and then share with friends". I slipped on my shoes, all the while knowing what I was about to do was wrong. I knew I'd regret it. I knew I'd hate myself a little when I was done. But the craving was stronger than my pride. I pulled my hoodie over my head and grabbed my keys.
My heart raced in anticipation as I walked briskly towards my demise. "Just five more minutes and I'll have it, just pay the gal and keep moving, don't think about it too much, just go!"
I got home and put my sweat pants on and curled up on the couch with Oreo. I cut the top and peeled back the wrapping to reveal the golden, oatmeal color flecked with a darker, richer chocolate chips. My mouth waters; Nestle Tollhouse, how I've missed you.
I told myself I'd stop at 3 cookies worth. That was half a tube ago. I fell and I fell hard.
When all was said and done I'd eaten a whole tube in a 24 hour period. I'm not proud of myself, I'm not too hard on myself, but I have learned that I'll never be able to make my future children cookies. They'll never make it to the oven, and I have to stay clear of the stuff for good.
My name is Lindsey, and I'm a cookie dough addict.
Balls
September 7, 2012
One of those days, or five, or eight...
I'm having one of those days. I feel tired, stressed, sad, defeated, and all around crappy. This is (at least partially) because I will start my period tomorrow.
Once a month I feel like nothing in life is right. Once a month all the normal stresses and things I manage and juggle every day becomes too much and I crack. My mother usually gets the call. If it's not her, it's one of 3 girls I trust with my crazy. No matter who the lucky gal is, she knows I just need to vent, and that I know I'll pick myself out of this puddle of tears and lift the weight of the world once again in a matter of days. She knows I'm overly sensitive, overly reactive, and generally a pain in the ass. This once a month I am irritable, and weepy and ridiculous. I see it coming, I know why it's happening, and I always apologize for my overreactions even as they are occurring. But it happens.
I won't get in to my stress, my debt, my past, my future, or any of that. You have all that. You understand. I won't even try to justify this post, it's lack of logical flow, or it's purpose. It's purpose is because I feel like it and shut up!
So all the stress that is in my every day life is still here, but my sanity and ability to cope have left along with the lining of my uterus. All I can do is ride the wave of tears and blood. I try to manage the pain which is both emotional and physical; all during a time when my clothes are tighter, all I want to eat is chocolate and bread, and my body literally tears itself apart and flushes itself out. So pardon the hell out of me if, once a month, I yell at you a little, or cry my eyes out. And excuse me if my (not even as graphic as it actually feels) description of my life once a month has disturbed your delicate sensibilities. Man the fuck up and get me a cupcake!
I'm going back to crying now. I'll see you all in 5-8 days when my pants fit.
NOTE: This post does not discount the stresses in my life or any other woman's life. I want to make sure that the readers, especially the male readers, understand this. The reaction to stress and worries may be more exaggerated during this time, but the worries and stress are there all the time. So don't write a my words off by listening only to the emotions. Also don't think I'm going to jump off a building. I'll be fine.
Once a month I feel like nothing in life is right. Once a month all the normal stresses and things I manage and juggle every day becomes too much and I crack. My mother usually gets the call. If it's not her, it's one of 3 girls I trust with my crazy. No matter who the lucky gal is, she knows I just need to vent, and that I know I'll pick myself out of this puddle of tears and lift the weight of the world once again in a matter of days. She knows I'm overly sensitive, overly reactive, and generally a pain in the ass. This once a month I am irritable, and weepy and ridiculous. I see it coming, I know why it's happening, and I always apologize for my overreactions even as they are occurring. But it happens.
I won't get in to my stress, my debt, my past, my future, or any of that. You have all that. You understand. I won't even try to justify this post, it's lack of logical flow, or it's purpose. It's purpose is because I feel like it and shut up!
So all the stress that is in my every day life is still here, but my sanity and ability to cope have left along with the lining of my uterus. All I can do is ride the wave of tears and blood. I try to manage the pain which is both emotional and physical; all during a time when my clothes are tighter, all I want to eat is chocolate and bread, and my body literally tears itself apart and flushes itself out. So pardon the hell out of me if, once a month, I yell at you a little, or cry my eyes out. And excuse me if my (not even as graphic as it actually feels) description of my life once a month has disturbed your delicate sensibilities. Man the fuck up and get me a cupcake!
I'm going back to crying now. I'll see you all in 5-8 days when my pants fit.
NOTE: This post does not discount the stresses in my life or any other woman's life. I want to make sure that the readers, especially the male readers, understand this. The reaction to stress and worries may be more exaggerated during this time, but the worries and stress are there all the time. So don't write a my words off by listening only to the emotions. Also don't think I'm going to jump off a building. I'll be fine.
August 23, 2012
Petty? Me? Noooo
I've been doing this boot camp for 13 weeks now (I'm on my third session of 6 weeks) and I really like it, I'm seeing muscle where chub used to be, and I feel strong. I can even do push ups the real way now, without my knees on the ground! I do burpees and squats like a mad woman and I feel more energetic, and inspired and stronger after each workout. I try to focus on form and not be competitive when I don't need to be, just going at my own pace and making the most of it for me. But Tuesday WAS a competition.
We were running suicide relays. Each suicide was a different exercise, the second being the side shuffle. I was paired up against this girl in a purple tank top. I was sick with a cold and not at 100% but I showed up because I'm awesome. So I start shuffling to the first cone, we're neck and neck, I'm focusing on my form and giving it all I've got, snot running down my throat, it was pretty rough. I'm coughing but I keep going.
Side shuffle, side shuffle, We get to the second cone and she's about three shuffles ahead. I'm a competitive person, but I'm also an honest person and this purple shirted shuffle shirker was front shuffling! Hardly even attempting to look like she was doing it right. Our fearless leader, Brittany, calls her out on it yet she refuses to change. We know that this is a competition with something on the line, and I see that I'm losing my leg (of the relay, not the one below my butt), but she's cheating. I keep focusing on my form and fairness, and she keeps front shuffling like a little bitch.
By the end of Tuesday's session, three different relay sets, she has blatantly spit in the face of boot camp itself and that front shuffling little skank cost my team and I a total of 15 burpees.
I guess the plus side is that I'll look way better than her cheating butt in a bathing suit by the end and isn't that what really matters?
Balls
We were running suicide relays. Each suicide was a different exercise, the second being the side shuffle. I was paired up against this girl in a purple tank top. I was sick with a cold and not at 100% but I showed up because I'm awesome. So I start shuffling to the first cone, we're neck and neck, I'm focusing on my form and giving it all I've got, snot running down my throat, it was pretty rough. I'm coughing but I keep going.
Side shuffle, side shuffle, We get to the second cone and she's about three shuffles ahead. I'm a competitive person, but I'm also an honest person and this purple shirted shuffle shirker was front shuffling! Hardly even attempting to look like she was doing it right. Our fearless leader, Brittany, calls her out on it yet she refuses to change. We know that this is a competition with something on the line, and I see that I'm losing my leg (of the relay, not the one below my butt), but she's cheating. I keep focusing on my form and fairness, and she keeps front shuffling like a little bitch.
By the end of Tuesday's session, three different relay sets, she has blatantly spit in the face of boot camp itself and that front shuffling little skank cost my team and I a total of 15 burpees.
I guess the plus side is that I'll look way better than her cheating butt in a bathing suit by the end and isn't that what really matters?
Balls
August 6, 2012
A Note on Temperature
It’s six o’clock on a Friday night. A ridiculously attractive female sits at gate E9 in the Philadelphia International Airport Terminal waiting for her Southwest flight. She could already be home, but being the kind and giving person she is, she gave up her seat on that flight for someone whom she can only assume had multiple disabilities, was a veteran, elderly, and pregnant. But she doesn’t care;, she’s just that good of a person. (The voucher worth more than a free flight on future Southwest travel never entered her mind). She is richer than when she arrived at the airport, full of wine and fajitas, and happy as a clam and yet she scowls and crosses her frigid blue arms over her ample bosom.
Why? Because it’s so GD cold in this freaking airport!!!
Businesses across the land, heed my advice: Just because
it’s 90 outside, doesn’t mean we want it to be 15 inside. That blast of cold
air feels good for about 2 seconds and then we cool off, and then we freeze,
and then our nipples cut the glass of the airplane windows, the plane loses all
function, and we all die! Do you want that on your conscience? DO YOU?! I can
assure you that air that is even 10 degrees colder will feel good when we walk
into your building. It’s summer and most of us aren’t equipped with warmer
clothes to throw on above our skimpy shorts that accentuate our increasingly
chiseled legs (thank you, boot camp!). Turn it down a notch. I feel like I’m in
Antarctica , sitting in a bath of icy hot in a
wind tunnel, while eating a snow cone. Enough!
On the plus side, I was feeling pretty flushed after that
TSA molestation, so maybe you had my best interest at heart. So thanks, or
something.
Balls
A Haiku about my experience:
Sitting in the cold
Nipples turning hard; cut glass Care to warm them up?
July 24, 2012
Balls Deep #1
This the first installment of "Balls Deep"; my attempt at deep thoughts on life and the world around me.
Note: The picture is only mildly related to this post, so please don't roll your eyes in a "here she goes with a political agenda" way. It's just funny and I thought maybe you could use a laugh. You're welcome.
In the wake of a shooting tragedy, like the one in Aurora recently, people feel the need to blame something. They need someone to blame or some explanation for "why" bad things happen. I think the blame and finger pointing come more from the need to make sense of the darkness in the world, than the desire to vilify. However, it seems that are always two main "villains" taking the blame when something like this happens: guns, and the entertainment industry.
Guns were made to kill. Guns are used to hunt; guns are used in war, but they are also used for recreation. Skeet shooting anyone? I do acknowledge that there are many types of guns and we could sit here for days arguing about whether stronger legislation would actually keep all these guns out of the hands of people who use them for evil. But we won't. Besides, making something illegal keeps it away from those who would use it for evil, right? The fact is tat before there were guns, there were knives, swords, sharpened mammoth bones and, well, you can look up all the various gun predecessors. Humans are animals, animals fight and kill and our species just happens to have the intelligence and creativity to come up with some pretty amazing tools for this type of destruction. Oh, and opposable thumbs; those have come in handy.
Not only is violence innate in most every species, it can also be used for entertainment and has been throughout history. From Gladiators to Marilyn Manson, World of Warcraft, and that scene where Bambi's mother gets shot; we have created many different forms of entertainment which can be used to explore our violent tendencies. As our methods of entertainment expand, so do our viewing lenses for violence and, some argue, our desensitization to said violence. People love a scapegoat and the entertainment industry is a great one. There are many more expressions of violence now (and also sex, love, etc.) but is it more "in our faces" than before?I wish I knew the world that so many people seem to remember, before TV, video games, and gangsta rap (did I spell that right? I'm a little too white to even mention it). I wish I lived in this utopia of whistling while we worked and exchanging flowers along with opposing opinions. These pointing fingers vilifying the entertainment industry seem to be attached to people who grew up in awe-inspiringly peaceful times. But alas, video games were invented and senseless violence in the world began. (Pacman, you bastard!) People have been exposed to some truly horrific things in history and I don't think that we are more violent or prone to violence since the invention of mass media (although enlighten me if you have studies that prove me wrong). And if we are, is it the weapon choice and media making us more violent or are these merely reflections of what society has already become?
My heart goes out to my fellow human beings who have been touched by this, and all senseless violence. May your hearts not harden and you find strength and support in the love around you.
Balls
July 23, 2012
May I Have a Volunteer From the Audience?
By now you have seen my 30 by 30 post; if you haven't it's the only other post on this blog so stop being so damn lazy!
Read it? Good.
Now that we're on the same page you know I am going to need some help. Not just from a qualified mental health professional, but also from you. I'm going to need words of encouragement, and friends with balls to attempt some of these things with me. So here is a list of the activities I'd like friends to join in. Post a comment, Facebook me, or email me if you are interested in doing any of these with me and we can start to plan.
Also, I'll be walking, riding, swimming, crawling, skipping, doing the worm or otherwise moving my body 30 miles a week, so please feel free to schedule some time to go along with me.
Thanks for all your help!
Balls
Read it? Good.
Now that we're on the same page you know I am going to need some help. Not just from a qualified mental health professional, but also from you. I'm going to need words of encouragement, and friends with balls to attempt some of these things with me. So here is a list of the activities I'd like friends to join in. Post a comment, Facebook me, or email me if you are interested in doing any of these with me and we can start to plan.
Trapeze lesson Stair climb in Sears Tower
Sprint Tri Polar Plunge
Sprint Tri Polar Plunge
Dance class Canoe trip
Cooking class Improv class
Spanish class Pole dancing class
Also, I'll be walking, riding, swimming, crawling, skipping, doing the worm or otherwise moving my body 30 miles a week, so please feel free to schedule some time to go along with me.
Thanks for all your help!
Balls
July 22, 2012
30 Before 30
Is there a better way to start this blog than to take the next 45 weeks and actually prove whether or not I have the balls I claim?
In a completely unoriginal move, I've come up with a list of 30 things to do before I turn 30. 30 things in the next 45 weeks. Some of them will take the entire time, some things will be one and done. I'll be asking for friends to help along the way and sometimes I may even make them join me!
Without further ado here is my list:
1. Weigh 160lbs (I'm currently at 175) (admitting my current weight should definitely have been on this list because that's terrifying. But a little over a year ago it was in the 200s so I'm proud of my loss so far!)
2. Achieve "Lifetime" with Weight Watchers
3. Write 30 letters: handwritten and snail mailed
4. Write at least one blog post a week
5. Go on one date a month (July is done, this starts in August)
6. Go shark diving in South Africa
7. Go zip lining
8. Take flying trapeze lesson
9. Complete a sprint tri in under 2 hrs
10. Take a dance class
11. {Walk/Run/Bike/Swim (any combination) 30 miles a week} This is being updated to be earn 30 activity points a week. With boot camp three days a week it's just too darn hard to fit in 30 miles in 4 days!
12. Pay off credit card
13. Learn conversational Spanish
14. Join Association of Fundraising Professionals
15. Take a grant writing class
16. Finish decorating my bedroom
17. Organize every inch of my apartment (Container Store here I come!)
18. Wear a bikini in public (a stomach showing one, no tankinis)
19. Start a tradition with my niece Emily
20. Make a savings/5 year plan (yep, I'm an adult now)
21. Take a cooking class
22. Take an improv acting class
23. Submit a short story for publication
24. Take a pole dancing class
25. Walk the stairs to the top of Sears Tower (I refuse to call it Willis)
26. Do a Polar Plunge
27. Ride one of the rides at the top of the Stratosphere in Vegas
28. Take a canoe trip
29. Cut off and donate hair to Locks of Love
30. Forgive. Admittedly this last one is vague, and will be ongoing in life, but there are things that hold me back. Things that I need to forgive in my heart right now, and my goal is to move past these and into the future without my current grudges. This way there will be plenty of room for new grudges and hatred as life goes on.
Wish me luck!
Balls
In a completely unoriginal move, I've come up with a list of 30 things to do before I turn 30. 30 things in the next 45 weeks. Some of them will take the entire time, some things will be one and done. I'll be asking for friends to help along the way and sometimes I may even make them join me!
Without further ado here is my list:
1. Weigh 160lbs (I'm currently at 175) (admitting my current weight should definitely have been on this list because that's terrifying. But a little over a year ago it was in the 200s so I'm proud of my loss so far!)
2. Achieve "Lifetime" with Weight Watchers
3. Write 30 letters: handwritten and snail mailed
4. Write at least one blog post a week
5. Go on one date a month (July is done, this starts in August)
6. Go shark diving in South Africa
7. Go zip lining
8. Take flying trapeze lesson
9. Complete a sprint tri in under 2 hrs
10. Take a dance class
11. {Walk/Run/Bike/Swim (any combination) 30 miles a week} This is being updated to be earn 30 activity points a week. With boot camp three days a week it's just too darn hard to fit in 30 miles in 4 days!
12. Pay off credit card
13. Learn conversational Spanish
14. Join Association of Fundraising Professionals
15. Take a grant writing class
16. Finish decorating my bedroom
17. Organize every inch of my apartment (Container Store here I come!)
18. Wear a bikini in public (a stomach showing one, no tankinis)
19. Start a tradition with my niece Emily
20. Make a savings/5 year plan (yep, I'm an adult now)
21. Take a cooking class
22. Take an improv acting class
23. Submit a short story for publication
24. Take a pole dancing class
25. Walk the stairs to the top of Sears Tower (I refuse to call it Willis)
26. Do a Polar Plunge
27. Ride one of the rides at the top of the Stratosphere in Vegas
28. Take a canoe trip
29. Cut off and donate hair to Locks of Love
30. Forgive. Admittedly this last one is vague, and will be ongoing in life, but there are things that hold me back. Things that I need to forgive in my heart right now, and my goal is to move past these and into the future without my current grudges. This way there will be plenty of room for new grudges and hatred as life goes on.
Wish me luck!
Balls
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