23 August 2009
18 August 2009
Find A New Outlet, Be Happy With Yourself
The smaller portion of lasagna. I got the recipe from the Neelys on the Food Network a few weeks ago, and I quickly typed it up and saved it in a file on my laptop. I've always heard that this is one of the harder dishes to make, even more difficult to make it right.As I pulled the casseroles from the blazing hot oven, I thought I did a pretty fine job. I was so impressed with my effort that I even threw together a hearty green salad with some large, ripe tomato and feta cheese. Needless to say, I cut several squares from the smaller pan and handed some out to those who were wanting to try it. Now, I only have the larger dish left.
Another one of my creations. The one pastry I've made to date of which I am most proud. I don't know what to call it. It's a layer of sugar cookie dough baked golden brown, smothered in a thick layer of sweet orange marmalade, sprinkled with roasted almonds and walnuts, and drizzles and gobs of melted chocolate.
The highlight of this, my last week before the fall semester begins... the arrival of my sponsor from Las Vegas on Sunday afternoon. We waited for her bags then drove to El Chico for a Tex Mex treat and a much needed face-to-face heart-to-heart. After lunch, I realized that my fears and frustrations had been lifted. I felt that I was indeed on the right path with all the recent changes in my life, and I have a big, beautiful future ahead of me if I can only keep forward momentum.
So, what am I doing for 101 Days and Nights of Redemption? Here's a picture of me taken in the mirror that encapsulates a medicine cabinet filled with tweezers and floss and bandaids and hair products and body glitter and hair dye and colognes and oils and hand sanitizers and everything else that I enjoy utilizing when the door is closed and I can pamper myself and experience my gayest gay side.
Notice the post-its all over the mirror. I posted those about two weeks ago... they're just reminders. These remind me to floss, to remember my goals, to go back and do some push ups or sit ups... to make healthy choices. I have similar post-its all over my desk/study area. They ask me if I've been to a meeting, if I've worked on my step... I need to be able to look up and read one and tell myself to get up and do something... the books and the internet and the notecards and the syllabus (syllabuses or syllabi?) will be waiting for me upon my return.
What else? I still haven't quit smoking, but the idea is there... sometimes close to the forefront of my thoughts, sometimes buried below everything else that's pressing and necessary for the day.
I haven't been exercising. What am I waiting for? What's stopping me? I have my alarm set for six in the morning so I can get up and drive to NSU for fee payment and renewal of my id and a new parking sticker and about one thousand dollars' worth of text books and gadgets that are necessary for the months between the end of August and the beginning of December. I'm planning to get up and rush my coffee to kick in, but I really should try to shoot for about twenty to thirty minutes earlier so I can at least stretch, crunch, strengthen, and get my blood circulating, and my thoughts moving in a positive and healthy direction.
I've been thinking a lot about my past. Both the short-term and the long-term. In regards to school, work, sponsorship, meeting attendance, and all the little white lies that I told myself for so long.
Sometime during my first twelve months in recovery, my sponsor (the old, persnicketty lady who now lives in Nevada) suggested that I get a hobby. I read. I write. What other hobby do I need? She wanted me to do something that required effort, not necessarily expense. Something that required the use of my hands and minimal use of my mind once the creativity sets in. Juli works in her garden ("dirt therapy" she calls it), Jamie paints (and my walls are slowly being covered with her efforts), Krissy collects elephants (and I get her one every chance I have). I've always considered myself creative, but more with words and language and stories.
And I collect everything. Books. Movies. Music. Art. Clothes. Shoes. Bad habits. Bills. Odd medical issues.... additionally, I've begun collecting the little tabs of fortune that I greedily snatch from Chinese fortune cookies. I tape them all over my desk. Along the lines of the shelves and the parts that rise to hold my supplies and movies and other whatnots.
I tried painting and creating a collage. Nothing really did it for me, but somewhere, sometime, at some point, I began cooking. My famous chicken salad, jambalaya, tuna... I found that I liked putting everything together, trying new recipes... it led to me requesting a cutting of lime basil and chocolate mint, that led to gardening. Now I have plants. I have dishes. Recipe lists.
I think I have my outlets recognized and set up. Was that one of my goals for 101 Days and Nights in Pursuit of Redemption?
Desiderata--A Poem Sent to Me By An Old Friend
Desiderata
-- written by Max Ehrmann in the 1920s --
-- written by Max Ehrmann in the 1920s --
Go placidly amid the noise and the haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible, without surrender,
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even to the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons;
they are vexatious to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain or bitter,
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs,
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals,
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love,
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment,
it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be.
And whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life,
keep peace in your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.
12 August 2009
So Right As Rain
"You turn my head when you turn around, you turn the whole world upside down. I'm smitten, I'm bitten, I'm hooked, I'm cooked, I'm stuck like glue. You make me, make me, make me hungry for you..."
--The Cure
Not sure why I'm in such a good mood. Somewhat productive day for me, yet again, but isn't that the intent of 101 Days and Nights in Pursuit of Redemption?
I went to a meeting tonight that I'd never been to before. A meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous. It was exactly what I needed, exactly when I needed it. It was wonderful to sit in one of the plush, comfortable chairs, pray, listen, clap, and just be a member. It was the first meeting I've been to in months where I wasn't one of the people in the room with the most clean time.
St. Paul's tomorrow. Can I get my rear out of bed to start the day with exercise? That's an intricate part of this redemptive process that's missing at the moment. That and the cigarettes which are way too much a part of things.
One day at a time.
--The Cure
Not sure why I'm in such a good mood. Somewhat productive day for me, yet again, but isn't that the intent of 101 Days and Nights in Pursuit of Redemption?
I went to a meeting tonight that I'd never been to before. A meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous. It was exactly what I needed, exactly when I needed it. It was wonderful to sit in one of the plush, comfortable chairs, pray, listen, clap, and just be a member. It was the first meeting I've been to in months where I wasn't one of the people in the room with the most clean time.
St. Paul's tomorrow. Can I get my rear out of bed to start the day with exercise? That's an intricate part of this redemptive process that's missing at the moment. That and the cigarettes which are way too much a part of things.
One day at a time.
11 August 2009
What Have I...What Have I...What Have I Done To Deserve This?
Okay, Aunt Teresa, you've been asking for some photos of what I look like these days, especially following my sudden decision to just shave my head and get rid of all that pesky hair. The truth is that it feels good... nice and cool. Also, it requires very little effort. I can use the same bar of Neutrogena face wash to scrub all across my head and neck. The other benefit is that it was totally free. No reason to shell out twenty-five bucks and a tip for me to have it done professionally.
However, I have to be honest about something...
I'm not sure if I really like it.. Kinda like this picture here, though.
Another one, not so bad... I had to go to the big back bedroom bathroom to get a full-effect mirror picture for your review.
Okay, fine... after reviewing these here, I can't say that I totally hate it. Just looks strange to me when I'm brushing my teeth first thing in the morning.
The truth is that I did it for the ease of care, but I think it accentuates my widow's peak, which is just a fancy way of saying that I think I'm going bald (thanks Moons.. it comes from your side).
10 August 2009
Let Me Count The Ways
Just as easily as I become enamored of productivity and health, I can become lazy and easily stray to a state of sloth and living life as a couch potato. I have all these plans and ideas and hopes for projects and body definition, but time slips away.
I remember a sign over the kitchen archway at Catahoula's that read: "The hurrier I go, the behinder I get." It was something that reminded us to slow down and be aware of our surroundings because we were more inclined to have accidents and make avoidable mistakes when we were "in the weeds." I loved Catahoula's, learned a lot about myself while I was working there.
More than a year ago, my sponsor gave me an assignment that I've started and stopped and worked on at times, but never really put the effort into it as I really should have. She wanted me to use my skills of creativity and short story commission to write a story that employed the ideas that we discussed that day, something that would be a fictionalized version of actual events, my coming to believe and a path toward redemption.
And what's the cardinal rule for every writer when they're just starting out? Write what you know. It's always been my motto and a creed by which I've lived and worked.
I remember something that happened, something that I think of at times that makes me angry. It was something that happened just after graduation from Magnet High, when I was looking for a job for the summer. I went to an interview in the Eye Masters store located in Mall St. Vincent. I'd worked in the theatre there off and on for since my introduction to accountability and employment, but I'd heard that Eye Masters was probably hiring and I might have a good chance of securing a job there.
The interview was... strange from the start. After only a few minutes, I realized that I was not being interviewed based on any experience or any qualifications that had anything to do with work and professionalism. I felt like I was being interviewed as a candidate for a notch on the guy's bed post. I never said anything to anyone in general, never reported the incident, and ended up accepting a position with Sam Goody. It sat with me. I should have said something. I should have reported it. Maybe it would have prevented the same thing happening to some young guy out there trying to make a go of it in the world. However, I was silent. Life showed up. Other things became more important and more pressing. I eventually moved to Lafayette.
I came home for visits every so often. There was one night that I remember going out downtown with my sister-in-law and some friends that were acquainted with her and my brother. We barhopped a bit and ended up at an alternative lifestyles bar in the downtown Shreveport area. Atop a bar stool that night, perched up in all his obese glory was one of the gentlemen who had worked in the Eye Masters location. I was drunk. I was probably belligerant, and I only recall bits from the encounter. Somehow the conversation led to that interview. I don't think I initiated it, seems that he did. And I told him that I should have said something. I should have done something about what happened. I told him it was wrong.
I remember his response. He hadn't been any part of the interview, but I had met him that day. He told me that he had listened at the door while the interview was conducted and said that I sat down and stated, "My name is Miles and I'm gay." Uhh... Seriously?! It set me off. I flew off the handle and proceeded to call him on the lie, and was subsequently dragged from the bar by my sister-in-law and her friend. I still remember their words once we were outside. Despite the haze of the alcohol and anger, I can recall them as if it was only last night: "Miles, you need to do something about that." I never did.
I returned to Lafayette and eventually allowed the worst of my excesses to take over. It was only after coming home and driving a car with one headlight through the gates of hell that I began to encounter consequence. Rehab became imminent. The saga of that interview and its fall-out never really occurred to me. I accepted a position where I worked for years. I loved life. I got better, found a new lease on life, admitted powerlessness and unmanageability. Eventually, my life was opened up to living right and living in God's will. I went through the steps and became okay with the fact that I did a lot of things that were wrong and bad, but those were just actions. They weren't who I was.
I'm thinking about all this. I'm thinking about other things that have happened recently. The times that I should have stood up for myself and for what's right. Stand for something or you'll fall for anything. This calls for major soul searching and prayer. I will have to meditate to hear the appropriate course of action from God, but I know that if I just rest and try to forget about things that have happened, I'll have to add yet another moment when I could have done something for me, stood up for myself, and prevented another guy in his twenties from having to take the force of others' reckless disregard. I don't want anyone else to have to feel that they are not good enough, not worth it, and feel as if that's just a part of life they have to resign themselves to.
Despite my admission of powerless, I don't believe that turning things over to God eliminates one's free will. God gave us that will and wants us to use it, as long as we have the nature of his will on our sides.
Today, I talked to several people about the chain of events that has led me back to a place where I once again feel disheartened and powerless.
That doesn't mean that I can't still feel empowered.
Today I will take a stand.
Today I will stand for something.
I refuse to fall for anything.
I remember a sign over the kitchen archway at Catahoula's that read: "The hurrier I go, the behinder I get." It was something that reminded us to slow down and be aware of our surroundings because we were more inclined to have accidents and make avoidable mistakes when we were "in the weeds." I loved Catahoula's, learned a lot about myself while I was working there.
More than a year ago, my sponsor gave me an assignment that I've started and stopped and worked on at times, but never really put the effort into it as I really should have. She wanted me to use my skills of creativity and short story commission to write a story that employed the ideas that we discussed that day, something that would be a fictionalized version of actual events, my coming to believe and a path toward redemption.
And what's the cardinal rule for every writer when they're just starting out? Write what you know. It's always been my motto and a creed by which I've lived and worked.
I remember something that happened, something that I think of at times that makes me angry. It was something that happened just after graduation from Magnet High, when I was looking for a job for the summer. I went to an interview in the Eye Masters store located in Mall St. Vincent. I'd worked in the theatre there off and on for since my introduction to accountability and employment, but I'd heard that Eye Masters was probably hiring and I might have a good chance of securing a job there.
The interview was... strange from the start. After only a few minutes, I realized that I was not being interviewed based on any experience or any qualifications that had anything to do with work and professionalism. I felt like I was being interviewed as a candidate for a notch on the guy's bed post. I never said anything to anyone in general, never reported the incident, and ended up accepting a position with Sam Goody. It sat with me. I should have said something. I should have reported it. Maybe it would have prevented the same thing happening to some young guy out there trying to make a go of it in the world. However, I was silent. Life showed up. Other things became more important and more pressing. I eventually moved to Lafayette.
I came home for visits every so often. There was one night that I remember going out downtown with my sister-in-law and some friends that were acquainted with her and my brother. We barhopped a bit and ended up at an alternative lifestyles bar in the downtown Shreveport area. Atop a bar stool that night, perched up in all his obese glory was one of the gentlemen who had worked in the Eye Masters location. I was drunk. I was probably belligerant, and I only recall bits from the encounter. Somehow the conversation led to that interview. I don't think I initiated it, seems that he did. And I told him that I should have said something. I should have done something about what happened. I told him it was wrong.
I remember his response. He hadn't been any part of the interview, but I had met him that day. He told me that he had listened at the door while the interview was conducted and said that I sat down and stated, "My name is Miles and I'm gay." Uhh... Seriously?! It set me off. I flew off the handle and proceeded to call him on the lie, and was subsequently dragged from the bar by my sister-in-law and her friend. I still remember their words once we were outside. Despite the haze of the alcohol and anger, I can recall them as if it was only last night: "Miles, you need to do something about that." I never did.
I returned to Lafayette and eventually allowed the worst of my excesses to take over. It was only after coming home and driving a car with one headlight through the gates of hell that I began to encounter consequence. Rehab became imminent. The saga of that interview and its fall-out never really occurred to me. I accepted a position where I worked for years. I loved life. I got better, found a new lease on life, admitted powerlessness and unmanageability. Eventually, my life was opened up to living right and living in God's will. I went through the steps and became okay with the fact that I did a lot of things that were wrong and bad, but those were just actions. They weren't who I was.
I'm thinking about all this. I'm thinking about other things that have happened recently. The times that I should have stood up for myself and for what's right. Stand for something or you'll fall for anything. This calls for major soul searching and prayer. I will have to meditate to hear the appropriate course of action from God, but I know that if I just rest and try to forget about things that have happened, I'll have to add yet another moment when I could have done something for me, stood up for myself, and prevented another guy in his twenties from having to take the force of others' reckless disregard. I don't want anyone else to have to feel that they are not good enough, not worth it, and feel as if that's just a part of life they have to resign themselves to.
Despite my admission of powerless, I don't believe that turning things over to God eliminates one's free will. God gave us that will and wants us to use it, as long as we have the nature of his will on our sides.
Today, I talked to several people about the chain of events that has led me back to a place where I once again feel disheartened and powerless.
That doesn't mean that I can't still feel empowered.
Today I will take a stand.
Today I will stand for something.
I refuse to fall for anything.
08 August 2009
Early to Bed, Early to Rise-Not This White Boy, I Must Surmise
Does it count that I'm thinking about all the great, healthy things I should be doing? The best laid plans of mice and men... the road to hell... all that, right? I suppose that nothing really counts unless you're actually putting the metal on it.
Maybe I'll feel some more motivation sometime later today. I am just waiting for some sort of inspiration.
Some good news that will spiral me into action.
Maybe I'll feel some more motivation sometime later today. I am just waiting for some sort of inspiration.
Some good news that will spiral me into action.
07 August 2009
Today Was Not the Day
I haven't quit smoking, but I tried to make a few healthy choices so far. Only one cup of coffee in which I attempted to reduce some of my sugar content. If you've ever been around while I was making a cup, you already know that the ratio of sugar to coffee is sometimes close to 50/50.
I made one of my banana protein shakes. It's my new favorite treat. One banana, about 3/4 of a cup of fat free vanilla yogurt, honey, cinnamon, and nutmeg. It tastes great and gives you a nice, natural jolt of energy.
Still reeling from the movie last night. It was intense and impressive. My only concern is that A Perfect Getaway has such a prolific ad campaign revealing that there will be a major twist for the ending. Had I not known that one was coming, I may not have been looking for clues and would have been completely blown away by the revelations. Regardless, the movie offers one his money's worth. In fact, I found myself drawn up to the edge of my seat and sitting forward once I had determined who the bad ones were. I was anxious to see if the others would discover everything in time. It leaves the viewers breathless all the way up to the closing scenes.
I made one of my banana protein shakes. It's my new favorite treat. One banana, about 3/4 of a cup of fat free vanilla yogurt, honey, cinnamon, and nutmeg. It tastes great and gives you a nice, natural jolt of energy.
Still reeling from the movie last night. It was intense and impressive. My only concern is that A Perfect Getaway has such a prolific ad campaign revealing that there will be a major twist for the ending. Had I not known that one was coming, I may not have been looking for clues and would have been completely blown away by the revelations. Regardless, the movie offers one his money's worth. In fact, I found myself drawn up to the edge of my seat and sitting forward once I had determined who the bad ones were. I was anxious to see if the others would discover everything in time. It leaves the viewers breathless all the way up to the closing scenes.
06 August 2009
Dystopian Thoughts from the Subject
Distant - Disdainful - Disregarded - Disrespected - Disillusioned - Disheartened - Displayed
A moribund state of mind, I suppose, and the antithesis of where I feel I should be proposing right now. It's just a reflection, built from having too much time on my hands from these past few days. One can never realized just how thoroughly occupied their time is until it becomes less occupied and slightly empty. That's when the loneliness sets in, that's when the thoughts come, and they're difficult to hold back, mostly impossible to suppress.
Move a muscle, change a feeling.
I don't know what happened. It was just one of those afternoons where I don't suppose anyone could really do anything right, least of all me. A call came through from a disjointed former creditor that I'd actually contacted some time ago to finish repaying an extended debt, and things just snowballed from there. Everything and everybody suddenly just got on my nerves, so I grabbed Mary Louise and her leash and we walked briskly down the avenue, taking in the sights and smells and sounds of an Indian Summer night. Is this Indian Summer? Or does that not come till later? I never really recall seeing the term much unless I'm reading something from Stephen King. Regardless. The point is: I felt better.
Of course, the pads on the soles of my feet were rubbed raw because I wore a pair of sandals that were designed more for looks than for utility, and I walked a bit faster than I'd intended. And I realized that Mary was really leading me, proudly skipping along the sidewalk and weaving in and out of the grass, occassionally tilting her head back to me to be sure I had hold of the twenty five or thirty feet of leash (why is it so long? and why don't I do something to shorten it? it's cumbersome to continually pull on and wind up and spiral around my elbow!) and was following her as promised.
I had a multitude of realizations on the walk. Number one, better shoes next time; number two, there definitely needs to be a next time. I remember reading or hearing or seeing something to the effect that the easiest way to keep your puppy happy is to take her for walks routinely and often.
Number three, maybe I need to get my ass up and have her out there first thing in the morning. I know she'll be raring to go even if I roust her from the middle of her kicking and screaming dreams. All I have to do is pick up that leash and begin trying to put her harness in place. That's all. Number four, the cigarettes are tired. They taste bad. They're supposedly laden with some new chemical that promptly ceases a billowing plume of smoke when you put them down in an ashtray. What's more, I have to quit anyway. Smoking is not allowed during clinical. Smoking is not allowed on the Christus campus. Smoking doesn't really look all that attractive anymore. Not like it did in the 1950s and 60s. Nobody can look like the blondes in Alfred Hitchcock movies once did.. all Chanel suits, bright red fingernails, and a long, glamorous-looking stick of cancer poised between their fingers... aren't all those people dead now anyway? What was it? Lung cancer? Great!
So I'm gonna quit. Don't know if I'll pick a day or buy a patch or chew the gum or eat a lot or suck on cinnamon candy or what, but I've been thinking about it. And I suppose tonite could be as good a time as any. I'm sure I might cheat and break down some other way, but I might as well give it a shot. Could save a bit more money in the long run.
The walks are another thing. What is that? Number five? I need more exercise. I've been living in a pasta warehouse which, combined with the extensive history of spinal dysfuntion is not really the greatest combination. Of course, cooking has become one of my hobbies and a great past time. It helps me to think and meditate and listen for God's answers to all my varying questions, but just because I cook doesn't mean I have to sample. What's more, I've got this new-found affinity for dirt therapy and trying to waken the dead that come in the forms of a litter of plants that I could readily kill or readily nurture to keep alive.
The truth is, I'm generally unhappy with the way I look. I know, so are most people, but when your BMI scale reveals a possibility that is nothing I really want to face, I think it's time to do something a little different. Of course, I'm limited. There are a series of stretches and skills I need to hone to be sure I keep my back safe and the pain at bay, but isn't there always the possibility that this could strengthen things and make it all just a little better and more endurable for the long haul?
Six, I need to work on my step more. I went over one with Allison today, and I'd forgotten how good it feels to get all that stuff out.
Seven (lucky seven), I know I need to pray a little more actively than I have. It's something I forget or maybe take for granted or maybe refuse to acknowledge. The fact is, I know I'm always happiest when my life has a sense of balance and purpose and I know that I'm doing the best at everything.
I know that if I have what is true and good and honest and pure and right on my side; when I'm just doing the very best that I can from one day to the next without hurting anybody; when I'm really consciously trying and pushing and persevering with humility, that's when I know that I have God on my side. That's when I know that no matter what, all will be well.
So I blogged. A rather long blog this time. Maybe the longest one I posted so far, but I think what better spot to document my progress as I set forth these seven, simple, spiritual goals. I'll put it out there in the open. Beginning tonite and going for... oh, let's say the next 101 days... in pursuit of redemption. Let's see how I fare. Having heard the concept of the upcoming film Julie and Julia and seeing this dude on gay.com who's going on a three month journey around the country and documenting the whole thing, I figure that this is the least I can do. Take it one step at a time, one blog at a time, from minute to minute, and write about how crappy or great or rewarded I feel for the process.
What's 101 days from now????? Up till sometime in November? Thanksgiving or thereabouts? Right? Sounds about right, so that's close enough. And Thanksgiving is a nice, fattening, sleep-inducing meal to look forward to as a reward anyway. Best meal of the year. We'll see. Maybe I'll throw in some pictures and other forms of motivation and realization for good measure.
So let's see how this goes, this journey to quit smoking, exercise more, pray more, meditate more, push more, do more, spend more time with my dog, be nicer more, love more, live more, smile more, feel better more and cough less.
Thanksgiving suddenly seems kinda far away.
A moribund state of mind, I suppose, and the antithesis of where I feel I should be proposing right now. It's just a reflection, built from having too much time on my hands from these past few days. One can never realized just how thoroughly occupied their time is until it becomes less occupied and slightly empty. That's when the loneliness sets in, that's when the thoughts come, and they're difficult to hold back, mostly impossible to suppress.
Move a muscle, change a feeling.
I don't know what happened. It was just one of those afternoons where I don't suppose anyone could really do anything right, least of all me. A call came through from a disjointed former creditor that I'd actually contacted some time ago to finish repaying an extended debt, and things just snowballed from there. Everything and everybody suddenly just got on my nerves, so I grabbed Mary Louise and her leash and we walked briskly down the avenue, taking in the sights and smells and sounds of an Indian Summer night. Is this Indian Summer? Or does that not come till later? I never really recall seeing the term much unless I'm reading something from Stephen King. Regardless. The point is: I felt better.
Of course, the pads on the soles of my feet were rubbed raw because I wore a pair of sandals that were designed more for looks than for utility, and I walked a bit faster than I'd intended. And I realized that Mary was really leading me, proudly skipping along the sidewalk and weaving in and out of the grass, occassionally tilting her head back to me to be sure I had hold of the twenty five or thirty feet of leash (why is it so long? and why don't I do something to shorten it? it's cumbersome to continually pull on and wind up and spiral around my elbow!) and was following her as promised.
I had a multitude of realizations on the walk. Number one, better shoes next time; number two, there definitely needs to be a next time. I remember reading or hearing or seeing something to the effect that the easiest way to keep your puppy happy is to take her for walks routinely and often.
Number three, maybe I need to get my ass up and have her out there first thing in the morning. I know she'll be raring to go even if I roust her from the middle of her kicking and screaming dreams. All I have to do is pick up that leash and begin trying to put her harness in place. That's all. Number four, the cigarettes are tired. They taste bad. They're supposedly laden with some new chemical that promptly ceases a billowing plume of smoke when you put them down in an ashtray. What's more, I have to quit anyway. Smoking is not allowed during clinical. Smoking is not allowed on the Christus campus. Smoking doesn't really look all that attractive anymore. Not like it did in the 1950s and 60s. Nobody can look like the blondes in Alfred Hitchcock movies once did.. all Chanel suits, bright red fingernails, and a long, glamorous-looking stick of cancer poised between their fingers... aren't all those people dead now anyway? What was it? Lung cancer? Great!
So I'm gonna quit. Don't know if I'll pick a day or buy a patch or chew the gum or eat a lot or suck on cinnamon candy or what, but I've been thinking about it. And I suppose tonite could be as good a time as any. I'm sure I might cheat and break down some other way, but I might as well give it a shot. Could save a bit more money in the long run.
The walks are another thing. What is that? Number five? I need more exercise. I've been living in a pasta warehouse which, combined with the extensive history of spinal dysfuntion is not really the greatest combination. Of course, cooking has become one of my hobbies and a great past time. It helps me to think and meditate and listen for God's answers to all my varying questions, but just because I cook doesn't mean I have to sample. What's more, I've got this new-found affinity for dirt therapy and trying to waken the dead that come in the forms of a litter of plants that I could readily kill or readily nurture to keep alive.
The truth is, I'm generally unhappy with the way I look. I know, so are most people, but when your BMI scale reveals a possibility that is nothing I really want to face, I think it's time to do something a little different. Of course, I'm limited. There are a series of stretches and skills I need to hone to be sure I keep my back safe and the pain at bay, but isn't there always the possibility that this could strengthen things and make it all just a little better and more endurable for the long haul?
Six, I need to work on my step more. I went over one with Allison today, and I'd forgotten how good it feels to get all that stuff out.
Seven (lucky seven), I know I need to pray a little more actively than I have. It's something I forget or maybe take for granted or maybe refuse to acknowledge. The fact is, I know I'm always happiest when my life has a sense of balance and purpose and I know that I'm doing the best at everything.
I know that if I have what is true and good and honest and pure and right on my side; when I'm just doing the very best that I can from one day to the next without hurting anybody; when I'm really consciously trying and pushing and persevering with humility, that's when I know that I have God on my side. That's when I know that no matter what, all will be well.
So I blogged. A rather long blog this time. Maybe the longest one I posted so far, but I think what better spot to document my progress as I set forth these seven, simple, spiritual goals. I'll put it out there in the open. Beginning tonite and going for... oh, let's say the next 101 days... in pursuit of redemption. Let's see how I fare. Having heard the concept of the upcoming film Julie and Julia and seeing this dude on gay.com who's going on a three month journey around the country and documenting the whole thing, I figure that this is the least I can do. Take it one step at a time, one blog at a time, from minute to minute, and write about how crappy or great or rewarded I feel for the process.
What's 101 days from now????? Up till sometime in November? Thanksgiving or thereabouts? Right? Sounds about right, so that's close enough. And Thanksgiving is a nice, fattening, sleep-inducing meal to look forward to as a reward anyway. Best meal of the year. We'll see. Maybe I'll throw in some pictures and other forms of motivation and realization for good measure.
So let's see how this goes, this journey to quit smoking, exercise more, pray more, meditate more, push more, do more, spend more time with my dog, be nicer more, love more, live more, smile more, feel better more and cough less.
Thanksgiving suddenly seems kinda far away.
05 August 2009
100th Post - Cause for Celebration
The summer session is officially complete. Now we wait. It's funny to me that we have the syllabus, which is basically a contract between the students and the professor, and we're encouraged to follow it, yet the professor seems to be at liberty to break it, add to it, or otherwise alter it in some way with or without notice. I'll spend the next several days waiting for all grades to post, although I already know what I'll be making in the First Aid/CPR course.
Waiting. I do it with everything. I'm waiting for reimbursement from Training Logic so that I can pay some bills that are waiting desperately, needing prompt and immediate payment. I keep thinking the check will come tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe by Friday. I just know that I've been waiting a bit longer than is actually necessary. I suppose no one has ever really died from waiting. Unless the wait is for a transplant.
Waiting. I do it with everything. I'm waiting for reimbursement from Training Logic so that I can pay some bills that are waiting desperately, needing prompt and immediate payment. I keep thinking the check will come tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe by Friday. I just know that I've been waiting a bit longer than is actually necessary. I suppose no one has ever really died from waiting. Unless the wait is for a transplant.
03 August 2009
A Pregnancy Scare
I've finally completed everything that's necessary to prepare for my First Aid/CPR exam. This is the last week of six, and I'm ready to have a little more than a week to simply make phone calls and work on my step and read the Danielewski novel that's doing little more than gathering dust beside my bed.
The pregancy scare arrived tonight while I was reviewing the chapter entitled "Child Birth and Related Emergencies". I realized that this was the chapter that interested me the most for some reason, the chapter with the quizzes that I did best on. In fact, the two questions that I missed I marked because I figured I could argue for the answer to be correct either way. Interesting.
And my absolute biggest fear of clinicals (other than shaking uncontrollably with the inability to promptly start an IV in front of an instructor... and having to start a female catheter and receiving the news from the patient: "Uhh! Wrong hole!") has been that I will be handed a freshly baked baby that's covered in the slippery stuff that they come out covered in and the baby slips out of my hands.
Maybe I'll be fine with my Labor and Delivery rounds after all.
The pregancy scare arrived tonight while I was reviewing the chapter entitled "Child Birth and Related Emergencies". I realized that this was the chapter that interested me the most for some reason, the chapter with the quizzes that I did best on. In fact, the two questions that I missed I marked because I figured I could argue for the answer to be correct either way. Interesting.
And my absolute biggest fear of clinicals (other than shaking uncontrollably with the inability to promptly start an IV in front of an instructor... and having to start a female catheter and receiving the news from the patient: "Uhh! Wrong hole!") has been that I will be handed a freshly baked baby that's covered in the slippery stuff that they come out covered in and the baby slips out of my hands.
Maybe I'll be fine with my Labor and Delivery rounds after all.
August
Today begins a time of transition. Not only for me, but for several other significant figures in my life. I suppose every day is a time for change, but there are sometimes that seem much more emphatic than others. As a less-than-usual climate has flowed into the SBC, I feel as if I'm embarking on the next step of a journey, progressing toward the achievement of so many goals... I really don't know for sure where I'll end up, I just hope I'm happy.
A good friend that I carry on conversations with on a fairly regular basis has been talking up an associate that he has desperately wanted me to meet for some time. In addition to a change in jobs, the nearing completion of my summer session, and the upcoming semester which may prove the most challenging so far, I'm actually thinking I will allow myself to be set up on a blind date to see what this guy has to offer. I always believe that when you're not looking for anything at all is when you're poised to have the greatest things in life revealed to your benefit.
Who knows where this will go and what could come next. I've never been struck by cupid's arrow with a blind date, but I've seen it successfully conducted by others. I've even opted to do so myself with exceptional results... we shall see.
A good friend that I carry on conversations with on a fairly regular basis has been talking up an associate that he has desperately wanted me to meet for some time. In addition to a change in jobs, the nearing completion of my summer session, and the upcoming semester which may prove the most challenging so far, I'm actually thinking I will allow myself to be set up on a blind date to see what this guy has to offer. I always believe that when you're not looking for anything at all is when you're poised to have the greatest things in life revealed to your benefit.
Who knows where this will go and what could come next. I've never been struck by cupid's arrow with a blind date, but I've seen it successfully conducted by others. I've even opted to do so myself with exceptional results... we shall see.
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