Lots of things swirling around in my head. Potential post topics are plentiful, but my focus is waning and I can’t figure out what to write about first. In a perfect world (or a perfect blog, at least), I would have split each idea into brilliant, individual posts. But because I don’t see an opening for that kind of time or concentration in the next few days, I need to get it all out now before it becomes irrelevant or I simply forget. So please forgive the disjointedness (and length) of this post, and let’s just pretend it’s one of those clever, intentionally-random bullet posts. (Update: I discovered something at least slightly clever once I wrote it all out, hence the titles for each section. Small victories, guys.)
Run
First things first: Last week I mentioned wanting to write about my 11-minute mile. I was going to tell you about how energized I felt, how empowering it was to finish the first lap and realize I still had more in me. And then I was going to tell you that on the second lap, I couldn’t stop smiling because for the first time ever, I was running a second lap which was just as strong as the first, and I knew I could go for a third. And I was going to tell you that when I was rounding the last turn of my fourth lap, I started laughing at myself because in my mind I was saying, “Take THAT, asthma!” — and I almost said it out loud. And now, I want to also tell you that yesterday at the gym, I ran at 5 mph for 15 minutes straight, which is a major record for little asthmatic me, and once again I was grinning ear to ear like a big dope and I didn’t even care because, you guys?! I AM A RUNNER. It’s official. And never in my life did I think I could say those words. Being athletic was something I gave up on back in middle school when I realized that trying to play my flute and march in a straight line at the same time seemed a lofty fitness goal. (Really, it’s a wonder I’m not 300 pounds by now.) All this to say, I wanted to tell these stories on my running progress in a much cooler, much more creative way, but this will have to do.
Walk
Last Saturday, my college roommate Rachel hosted a breast cancer benefit party for her cousin Becca who is 27 years old and has had breast cancer TWICE. They were raising money for an upcoming Avon Walk-a-Thon, so there were tons of raffle prizes, a silent auction, and breast-cancer-themed goodies for sale. I wanted to write a whole post about this event, because it was a blast! And because when it came time to draw winners for all the raffle prizes, there were some pretty hilarious occurrences. But to sum it up, I’ll tell you that Joe and I won SIX out of the 45 prizes. We split up our raffle tickets, each of us putting about 40 in the various bags coordinated with their prizes. The prizes included board games, kids’ toys, body lotions, and a few, uh…sexier items. See, Rachel has an aunt who runs some kind of erotic website/store, so she donated all kinds of products like a sexy board game called “Truth, Dare or Chocolate” and Kama Sutra kissable body powders. On the spectrum of “sex toys” it was all relatively tame, and some of it was just sets of bubble bath and lotion that smelled romantic. But anyway, I obviously put a few tickets in for some of those prizes…and so did Joe. So imagine the uproarious hilarity when the raffle tickets were being called out and I won not one, not two, but THREE of the game-type prizes…and then Joe proceeded to be the holder of the tickets which were drawn for not one, not two, but THREE of the sexy-type prizes. His face was beet red, everyone was pointing and laughing…and I never loved my husband more than I did at that moment. He kept saying, “She told me to put the ticket in there!” or, “Hey, we both win with this one!” It was really great. And be on the lookout for some upcoming posts wherein I will tell you a little about each of the things we won, and how we like them. *wink wink* (It’s very likely they’ll end up being password-protected…for pretty obvious reasons.)
Oh, and check this out: the guest of honor at the benefit party has a blog! Show some love, would ya? She’s over at Becca Beats Breast Cancer.
Fly
Last but not least: a wedding. I know, you thought I was done blogging about wedding stuff, right? Well, it’s not about mine. It’s about Cari’s. You probably know by now that I’m making jewelry for her wedding. But what you may not know is that Cari lives in North Dakota. She lives in North Dakota, and she invited me to her wedding, and I want to go. Let me rephrase that. A girl I’ve never met in person, who I only know through blogging and the occasional Gchat, has invited me to her wedding on the other side of the country, and I seriously want to go. And yeah…it’s probably crazy, and it’s probably not the wisest use of my money, and maybe it’ll be the only time we ever actually get to exist in the same time zone together so what the heck is the point anyway if we’re not going to be able to cultivate a “real life” friendship, and maybe I won’t even get to talk to her for more than three minutes because she’ll be a little preoccupied with, you know, GETTING MARRIED and all, so how stupid could I possibly BE to want to spend hundreds of dollars to get on a plane to spend a day and a half in a strange place with a bunch of people I don’t know only to watch a girl I’m only cyber-friends with say “I do” and then get whisked away to her honeymoon having barely made eye contact with me…and — how crazy am I, really? But here’s how I see it: All that stuff about how Cari is only my cyber-friend and we may never have a “real” face-to-face type of friendship? It’s either complete bull, or all the time I’ve spent in the last year on blogging, getting to know some incredible girls all over the continent, sharing deep, emotional stuff and giving and receiving advice and comfort — it’s all a farce, it’s meaningless, and there’s no point in pursuing it anymore.
So you tell me: which is it? Should I consider it worthwhile to travel 2,000 miles to attend Cari’s wedding, or should I forget it and quit investing emotional energy in friendships with a bunch of people I will probably never be able to have coffee with on a random Tuesday afternoon? And, okay, I know there’s more to this decision than whether or not my blog friends are “real” friends. The financial aspect of it is really significant, and the fact that we probably wouldn’t have a lot of time to talk does matter to me. I guess I’m just looking for some input all around on this one. I’ll tell you that I’ve found some really great deals in terms of airfare and hotels, and I do have enough money in savings to do this (but it’s savings that, eventually, are meant to become an “emergency fund” like for a tire blowout or pneumonia, which I keep depleting to buy Christmas gifts and big-ticket items like this one).
What do you think about…all of it?
[Update:] I realized that it might sound like I’m seriously considering the possibility that my blog friendships aren’t real or worthwhile, and I want to make sure that you guys know I don’t feel that way at all. I was mostly going into an extreme-point-of-view situation, considering what the devil’s advocate (or people outside of blogging who may not “get” it) might say about this decision. I hope that makes sense, but please feel free to respond or email me if I’ve hurt your feelings in any way! I love you all.
I don’t want you to be a homebody who just blogs, makes jewelry, bakes and reads all the time.
At first, I wanted to be really angry. How many times have I tried to explain that I need my “me” time, my time to myself, time to recharge after a long day interacting with a thousand people? I felt like he was saying, “Honey, you’re a loser, and you need to get a life.”
(I wish I knew how to turn off that auto-defensiveness that comes with each bit of criticism or advice that comes my way, especially when it’s from the person whose motivation is never, ever ill-intentioned.)
But the more I think about that conversation, the more I realize: he’s right. He talked about how he feels like I don’t really hang out with any girls my age, except for when we have big game nights with a bunch of couples. He doesn’t want me to fall into being an old married lady just yet; I’m young, I’m adventurous, and most of all: I’m a GIRL. And girls need girl friends, no matter how wonderful their husbands are.
He’s right.
And as much as I’ve come to feel like you, my blogging pals, are just as good as any close girl friend I’ve ever had (and sometimes, better), I really do need to make a better effort to connect with people who live in the same city as me. I need girlfriends to drink Cosmos with, to see chick flicks with, to talk about how boys are gross and sweaty with, and to sometimes turn to for advice or comfort. And Nora? Cari? Kyla? Emily? Nilsa? Mandy? You don’t even KNOW how badly I wish those girls could be you!
But it’s time to man — er, woman? — up and start putting myself out there. I’ve got to make some genuine friends (who live within 20 minutes of me) because I really AM turning into a homebody. And that’s not to say that beading, blogging, reading and baking are in any way bad or lame or anything…cuz um, hi! They’re some of my absolute favorite things to do, and I’m not about to stop doing them. Still, I need a better balance. I need to get out of the house for more than just work, the grocery store and the gym. I need a social life.
Maybe you remember way back when Joe set me up on a girl date? And maybe you’re thinking, “What happened to those two new girlfriends?” Well, we’re still acquainted, but for one reason or another, we’ve never managed to get together again since then. And that’s okay, because not every girl I meet is necessarily “compatible” with me, ya know?
There’s still one little problem, though. Think you can guess what it is?
Yeah. I’m TERRIFIED! What if I reach out to a girl at the gym who seems cool, and she’s all, “Um, eww. Your mousy hair is, like, seriously cramping my style. Could you move over a couple of treadmills?” Or picture this: I’m walking through the grocery store, piling stuff into my cart (peanut butter, pickles, rainbow chip frosting — you know, the usual — not to eat together, of course, but she doesn’t know that), and another 20-something girl goes for the same tub of frosting. Our hands touch. We both chuckle awkwardly. And I say, “Wanna come over and watch Titanic and bake rainbow chip cupcakes and braid each other’s hair?” And then she goes, “Oh, I thought this was spackle. I threw my Donna Karan boot at my boyfriend and it left a hole in the wall. But anyway, I don’t eat frosting. Actually, I don’t eat at all. Can you tell me where I can find spackle?”
Okay, so I’m kind of making fun of all those hair-flipping, 400-dollar-jeans-wearing Santa Barbara girls, which does not bode well for actually becoming friends with any of them, especially if I told them about my blog and they read this post, right? But all joking aside, I really am uncharacteristically afraid to try to make friends, and I think it’s because in the past, I’ve always been kind of thrust into situations where I’m in a room full of girls who are all feeling exactly the same way, so the chances of finding at least one other person that relates with you and thinks you’re pretty cool are a lot higher. Basically, I haven’t tried to make any real friends since college.
So basically, I’m a huge loser, and I have no idea how to make friends without being creepy or awkward. Which obviously explains my current pattern of blogging, beading, reading, baking, lather.rinse.repeat. My life is entirely too thrilling. Really.
So…help?
I wanted to write a beautiful, poetic post about how I ran a mile in 11 and a half minutes last night, and how amazing that felt, but this day has been crazy and is going to continue to be crazy until I get all the crap done that needs to be done. So I’m copping out and re-posting something. Except it’s something that hasn’t been posted HERE yet, because it’s the piece I wrote as a guest post on LovelyAnomaly’s blog.
I figured a lot of my regular readers might not have gotten to see it, and it’s a post I thought was kind of good. Maybe it will inspire some thoughts, or something. So here we go with the recycled post. Happy Friday!
***
First things first.
I, like 98% of the 20-something population, have no idea what I want to do with my life. Nevermind the fact that I spent a hundred grand on four years at a private university studying English with the intent to go straight into a teaching credential and Master’s program. It was never what I wanted, but I didn’t allow myself to figure that out until two weeks into said credential program when I realized I HATED it.
So, yeah, I often catch myself feeling like a big loser for wasting so much money and having nothing to show for it. I mean look at me. I’m working as an administrative assistant, where all the other people doing the same job as me are high-school-educated at best, and they make more money than I do. Let’s face it, I’m better than these other admins, and I should be DOING something better.
(Wow, that sounded kind of mean. I’m a really nice person, I promise! Read my blog!)
But the problem is, I don’t know what that “something better” is, or should be, or can be, or whatever. Which is why I’m still here.
Today, though, something happened. And it’s something that made me think, if only for a moment, “I can and WILL do amazing things.” Do you want to know what happened?
I looked to my left.
I know, major revelation, right? Okay, so that’s not the big thing. Here’s the set-up.
I was sitting at my desk at work, doing a mundane and repetitive task (as usual) which involved looking from my computer screen down to a stack of paper which was to the left of my keyboard, back and forth, entering data. See, in this job, I’m always either looking down at the stuff on the surface of my desk, or straight ahead at the screen. The very few photos and pretty things I’ve tacked up on the miniscule amount of “wall” in my cubicle are rarely ever acknowledged by my eyes. So today, when I happened to look to my left — and NOT down — I saw it.
Fantastic, right?
Except my next thought was, “So…what’s my dream? What do I want?”
*chirp chirp* (That’s the sound of electronic crickets, symbolizing the very apparent LACK of an answer to those questions.)
People, this is the endless circle that is Tabitha’s Career-Path Contemplations. It’s ridiculous.
But I will hold onto this little fortune, because maybe, just maybe, the act of remembering on a daily basis that I CAN do anything will help me to start discovering what I want and dream of doing.
And maybe that’s all this whole search for purpose is about: knowing that the possibilities are endless.
So last weekend while we were visiting my parents in the desert, my mom asked if I wanted to go to Stars on Ice in San Diego, and I said, “HECK YES.” It has been probably six or eight years since the last time I got to go, and frankly I don’t think either of us expected to be able to go again.
But she found a great deal online, where she can get $15 tickets if she gets a group of 4-8 people to sign up together, and you just don’t pass up an opportunity like that. I don’t, anyway.
Which is why I just realized that I can’t go to Bloggers in Sin City in May. See, Stars on Ice is May 22nd, right smack dab in the middle of the Vegas meetup extravaganza. And as much as the thought of meeting a hundred amazing bloggers from across the continent makes me all giddy and happy inside…it doesn’t even come CLOSE to taking priority over an evening watching the most amazing ice skaters twirl and spin in a huge stadium with my mom.
I’m sorry, guys. But you understand, right? There will be other meetups. There HAVE to be, because I am determined to meet some of you in person, if only to prove to my friends that there are NORMAL people on the internet, and that blogging is sooo the new form of having pen-pals.
And as much as it bums me out that I definitely won’t be going to Vegas in May, I gotta admit that I was on the fence anyway (because of finances, stress, etc). And I am that much MORE excited to share an evening with my mom, doing something together that holds a lot of significance and nostalgia in both our hearts. Call me a mama’s girl if you want. It’s going to be fun. And I will be sure to take pictures and write an outstanding post about What I Did While You Punks Were in Vegas.
Tell me: Are you going to Bloggers in Sin City?
If so, give hugs for me, would ya? And if not, what are you doing that weekend?
Wanna come to San Diego and watch some people in glittery spandex dance around on ice?
(Seriously. You’re SO invited.)
I bought a pair of fancy running shoes on Monday.
I bought a fancy pair of running shoes that will actually HELP me rather than HINDER me in my quest to become a better runner.
I bought a fancy pair of running shoes that will HELP rather than HINDER, and they cost over a hundred dollars.
People, this is serious.
I’m running a 5K in ten days. It may not seem like much, but it’s 3.1 MILES of running. Outside. With a ton of other people running alongside (okay, more like AHEAD OF) me.
And, um, hi. I’VE NEVER RUN THAT FAR IN REAL LIFE (you know, like, outdoors).
So I’m nervous. But I bought these fancy shoes because I was sick of the ones I’ve been wearing, which are uncomfortable and sweaty and painful and, I’m convinced, actually make running harder. And, okay, I’ll admit that up until last night when I ran on the treadmill in my new running shoes, I was actually more convinced that nothing could help me and that my uncomfortable shoes, while AWFUL, weren’t really the problem.
I am here to tell you that proper shoes are essential . And all you athletic types, you pros at being fit and fabulous — you probably already knew that. But it was a marvelous revelation to me when, upon stepping onto that treadmill in my beautiful Brooks Glycerin 7 shoes, it felt noticeably smoother to walk, and then to run.
And then, when I decided to try to run at 4.8 mph for five minutes, thinking I might make it to four but five would be the ultimate goal, and instead I TOTALLY did it?
That. Felt. GOOD.
So, last night at the gym, I ran a 14-minute mile (well, a combination of walking and running, but the point is, I did a mile in 14 minutes). And then another. And I could’ve probably done two more like that, but I’m starting slow. Tomorrow, if it’s not raining, Joe and I are going to run at the community college track. It’s been probably a year since the last time we ran on the track, but I’m looking forward to seeing how I do. I know the treadmill is not the same as running outside, but I think that the practice I’ve had these last weeks will definitely help me.
Between now and the 5K, I’m hoping to run (either outside or on a treadmill) at least four more times: tomorrow, Saturday, next Tuesday and next Thursday. That’s four opportunities to push myself a little farther, to sweat a little harder, and to perfect my running and breathing techniques a little more; four opportunities to see if I can stack up to the “real” runners who will be at this event. I have no illusions of actually being able to run the entire 3.1 miles without stopping to walk, because I’d need quite a bit more training before that kind of accomplishment. But if I can run a full mile, even? That would rock. And if I finish the whole race in under an hour, I’ll be stoked. That’s an average of 17 minutes per mile. Piece of cake, right?
Anyway, check out my sweet new kicks. (This is just a photo I found online, not the actual ones in my possession.)
