It's been so long...
Hello, lover. I've missed you. But, seriously, I haven't written in this journal (I hear the distant deathnell of the b-word, or hope to) in quite some time. Today is Sunday. Tomorrow is Monday, which I thankfully have off from work/school. Technically I work at a school, but I refer to my job as both;
school, when I'm focused on my lovely students, smiles, art, creative lessons, delicious lunches, done by 5ish kind of days, and
work when I'm distracted by the dominant paradigm of disheveled, self-serving bureaucracy, colleagues who appear contemptuous, mouthy students, no time for planning, in-depth discussions of "Biggest Loser" in the staff lounge, and being there, in my little, window-less room until 8ish, only to realize that all the lights in the media center are turned off and I have to find my way, with many "ooofs" around the bookshelves to the exit in pitch darkness. In summary, I'm having a very nice day today because I don't have to worry where I'm going tomorrow, or which name might be bestowed upon it.
Things have subtly shifted since last we spoke. I'm feeling happier, healthier, appreciative of my blessing, and more optimistic than I was. Maybe it's because Spring is breaking on the horizon (each day I will the thermometer to rise above 50), and I can sense plants hesitantly waiting for the right moment to push their ways up...to make my walks more green, less brownish-yuck. I've also tried to make a shift in how I feel about myself.
For most of my life, I've dealt with guilt about body image: I think people should love themselves for who they are and love the bodies they have. Like a second piece of chocolate cake? Absolutely! No regrets. That being said, I've come to the conclusion that I wasn't going to actualize that attitude in myself anytime soon. So for me, I decided the healthiest decision was to take control (surprise! that's unlike me) and respect my body. It deserves better than the choices I've made in the past, which include way too many bags of nacho cheese Doritos. I also wanted to respect my mind. Why should I spend so much time thinking about unhealthy choices, worrying about if I would look as I wanted in my clothes, or wondering if I'd ever truly be "in shape?" In February, I joined a program at my gym that helps you create a habit out of making positive choices for your health. Which is exactly what I need! A way to shift my paradigm away from "This is what everyone eats, so why can't I eat it? People all eat like this and have for years, so why shouldn't I? French fries are an appetizer AND a side-dish! Dinner should fill your entire plate and make you feel tired, sweaty, and a bit sick...it's American!" to a place where I understand what food does for me and how to give my body what it actually needs to be strong and healthy. I didn't want to make choices based on losing weight, but on having a healthy connection between feeding my body and my, Oprah as it is, soul. That meant stopping eating for emotional reasons (when I'm sad, happy, stressed, bored, or as a reward for happiness). My refrigerator is chock full of delicious food that I can eat whenever I'm hungry and all of it is good for me! I love it! My newest complete obsession is mango...where has this been all my life? I feel like I'm eating something rare, exotic, and tropical each time and they're less expensive than I would have thought. While I do feel like I'm a little wrapped up in thinking about my progress toward my fitness goals, I hope that, with one more month of practice and discipline, I can ingrain in myself how to sustain these healthy choices, and then it can become easy, and second nature. And then I will rarely have to feel the obnoxious pains of unhealthy regret again and can focus on more important things in life (=everything).
On a completely different note, I've discovered a secret boutique filled with everything I love in jewelry. It's called Luna Sole, and it's on Hennepin, south of 28th. I just bought a golden necklace with a little pink stone this afternoon, another step in the process of grieving for my confirmation necklace. It's the end of an era in my life: the gold (plated, it turns out) necklace that my parents gave me when I was 13, and which I have worn
every single day, never taking it off for 13 years, has been removed, and is now officially off the neck. Apparently, a baker's dozen anni is what it took to wear down the gold to the nickel underneath. At that moment, precisely, is when the skin on my neck got enraged, turned red, reptilian in texture, and very itchy, and demanded it's removal. It's been four days and I still feel scaly and dry. And sad. That necklace has been around the world with me- I kissed my cross on Palm Sunday in Paris in the last row of pews of Notre Dame- and it's endured so much: years of cross country, innumerable showers and baths, and my almost-constant fidgety tugging (which never broke it's tried and true clasp). Farewell. I found a chain that looks almost identical in the bottom of my jewelry box, along side the invisible necklaces and friendship bracelets, and the transfer of cross and ring was simple, painless. But still sad. This does, however, confirm that I truly have an allergy! I've always been irrationally jealous of people whose bodies had one specific dislike, for no apparent reason. And it's apropos that I'm allergic to nickel. Now I've got something new to tell doctors.
In music news, I have to take offense at Rolling Stone for panning Vampire Weekend at SXSW. Granted, I wasn't there and didn't see it, but I feel credit is due for writing one of my most interesting and beautiful albums I've heard in a long time.
M79 has been on practically constant rotation for me today (running around Lake Harriet, at the gym, washing dishes, and chopping veggies for homemade soup...and now) and I still love it. The violin? It's like classical-indie, a genre which must be established immediately. I've heard tell that the band's pretty cute, too, hence (or partially hence) the sold-out show here.
What else? I've been dating a lot, in hopes of finding a man who's not desperately clinging to college life, living with his parents, or already in the tasseled-shoe stage of life. It's a tricky balance to achieve. I've developed ways to make even bad dates fun, discovered that having a busy life is a turn on, and realized that the way to my heart, at least in the short term, is pink tulips and sweet little messages written in French! J'adore. I've also concluded that I could never settle for anything less than butterflies and that it takes more than two dates to know for sure if someone is telling the truth (about anything).
This week is going to be spent not lounging in Cabo- I'm not that girl and content in the fact. I'm going to clean up my entire apartment, which will also be a de facto spring cleaning of my stresses and neurosis which fester in my mind and compound other stressers. I'm almost done tonight, which is perfect timing. Tomorrow, I want to start going to the public library downtown every day for a few hours to plan my lessons for the rest of the school year. Since most choices I make are based on reliving future stress, I hope that spending this extra time charting a creative curriculum will let me relax more at
school in the eight weeks of instructional time that remain. And the downtown library is stunningly beautiful, so it will be wonderful quiet time for me, too. I'm such a nerd. Oh, and I'm turning into the obsessive controlish person that my mom is now. While I see many drawbacks to that- I pity my future children- my mother also has always had everything together, been someone who could do it all, and I would be lucky to be as successful an organizer of all facets of life as she is.
My parents had a party on Saturday night to celebrate moving into to their new house. FINALLY. Whew. They've been sans maison for about a year, living in my grandparents' condo in Edina, sleeping on two twin beds pushed together! For all of the holiday season, they also most graciously shared the condo with my grandparents, who wake up at 4am and go to bed at 9pm. Their new house is adorable, intimidatingly big (my dad still can't remember all of the rooms), and elegant. Without planning to, they also ended up equidistant from both of my aunts' homes. Fifteen years ago, my family lived in New Hampshire, my Aunt Emily lived in southern California, and my Aunt Ali lived in Colorado...and now this. It will be so much fun to have family gatherings this summer. And, the part I'm already outrageously excited about is that my reluctant, shy, previously nonspirited family members have suggested (by themselves- without prodding!) that we Christmas carol between all the houses this winter! With sleds! And hot cocoa! Some of it spiked! Aww, holiday spirit, how I've miss YOU.
The purchase of this new house has inspired a little bit of curiosity, too: would it be possible for me to buy a place of my own? My current apartment is a bit of a fun-house, as in "funny=sheesh," and I'm ready for something that feels comforting. The market is just at it's low point, I, the neophyte real estate analyst am coaxing myself to believe, and it's the perfect time to buy. With help from my family, I can probably find a nice condo that would cost less per month than this grr-inducing one. (Story short: my bedroom doornob fell off and rolled under the oddly angled bottom of the door last week, and I was locked in my bedroom for 1/2 an hour until I could finagle it back to me and screw it on again). And a new condo might even come with a heated parking spot! That's enough to give me shivers, created by excitement this time instead of the bitter cold of shoveling off one's car in a Minnesota winter.
I'm desiring the delicious cabbage soup bubbling on my stove, so I'll end here. Bon nuit.
