When the Grass Under Your Feet is Actually a Meadow....

Prepare for a post of vulnerability.

So, as few may know, I entered a weight loss challenge at work rightly called "The Biggest Loser." In the past three weeks I've lost 6.5 lbs...a small but very normal and healthy amount of weight to lose. I kick box twice a week, and get the gym one to two more times in addition to that. I've been jogging, learning about what happens when my muscles decide they don't want to work that hard (ace bandages are my new best friend) and eating very healthy. I'm not "dieting" I'm making a lifestyle change. I eat very little to no processed food/fast food/sodas/sugary snacks..etc. I'm conscious of what I drink and I try hard to work out all parts of my body. I've fallen in love with kickboxing and have seriously developed an addiction to eating right/exercising/becoming a healthy person. I've become so addicted that I've lost sight of other things in life...

Like my social life. Granted, I've been busy with various things, including a lot of work special events...but I've sort of pushed my social life to the side. Going out drinking all night sounds horrible after working out AND I've become a lot more tired (despite the energizing feeling you're supposed to have) by all this work/working out. I'm not a total bum, but I've made plans and cancelled with my friends a few times due to injuries and exhaustion. I feel bad, but I'm just focusing on the fitness right now.

Life isn't like that though. I'm coming up on my 25th birthday and can't help but shake my head when I think about how long I've been single. I'm not getting all whiney or anything, I actually had a self revelation this evening. See, I'm not single and alone because no one wants me. I'm single and alone because lately, I've stopped putting myself in situations where I could actually meet someone.

I decided to go out to my favorite bar for a drink and maybe strike up a conversation with a lone male patron if possible. This was a stretch for me, because when I go to bars alone (which is not that frequently) I am struck with a sense of self-conscious vulnerability. I'm thinking that everyone thinks I'm desperate because I'm that big girl, alone at the bar with a drink in her hand. Granted, no one is paying attention to me because they are with their friends. But still, I over freak out about it.

Well, I went to the bar and there weren't a lot of patrons there anyway. At first I was discouraged. I knew that I looked a helluva lot better tonight than I did two months ago. I knew that my stomach was narrowing, I was getting an hour glass figure, that I didn't have to worry about a double chin sneaking in my DMV picture today, that my arm fat jiggled less and my legs were getting really strong. I knew all of this, but I still got down. I figured that I didn't measure up to the super petite hot bartender and that I was still a long way from my personal health goals and an even longer way from the societal standard for beauty. I don't want to be a supermodel. I just want to have a nice clear bright face, shiny hair, white teeth and a non-obese figure. These are perfectly attainable goals!

A group of guys came into the bar and ordered drinks. The male bartender said "there is no one sitting from her on down." He was just exhibiting good customer service, but that is when I lost it. That’s right fellas, no one is sitting near me on either side. Then another terror ran through my body. What if one of these guys tried to talk to me. What would I do? What would I say? I began to freak out about this as I watched the women's Beach Volleyball match play on the flat screen in front of me.

As I picked up my Long Island for a sip, condensation ran down the glass and spattered on my leg. After about 10-15 spatters...I began to wonder if by the time I left this bar it would appear I peed myself.

I finally gave up, finished my drink and left...stopping at CVS for a sugary pick me up...nothing that would destroy my hard work but just something to induce endorphines.

As I walked home....alone...I thought about a few things. First of all, there weren't that many guys at the bar. It wasn't that I wasn't attractive, it just wasn't a good night for putting myself out there. Second of all, my looks weren't the problem, my attitude was. Granted I sat there with great posture, shoulders high...deep down I was worried about what others would think about me and if someone talked to me what I would say. I'm known as a master of words, I'm witty, scarcastic and can make even a surley elderly person laugh...but at that moment I was weak. I'd probably resort to my defense mechanism which involves me "bro-ing down" with the male speaking. I'd prolly look at him and say "this is my shit" and point to the Olympics or something. Because that is what I do. I bring myself down to the guy's level because that makes me feel more comfortable and yes....less attractive.

I over-thought it. I then decided that it wasn't just my body that wasn't in top shape for being on the prowl, it was my mind too. I'm doing the best I can for my health right now, but I still STILL feel the sting of hurtful words said to me by strangers who have called me fat, big, and considered me a grenade. Those days are way behind me but I can't seem to shake them. I'm not that girl anymore, but I'm also not the super sassy girl who thinks she's out of everyone's league.

I hate it when people patronize me with the usual “you’ll find someone when you least expect it” bullshit. I no longer wander the streets, staring into the eyes of every attractive person wondering if they are my soul mate. I quit online dating because I was typecasting every guy who messaged me and ruling even the average ones out due to several glaring flaws in my head. I’ve been focusing on self improvement and health and personal happiness and letting life take me where I need to go. However, I haven’t had opportunities to even accidentally find someone. I shouldn’t expect much since I look like hell after a workout and work with homeless women and children. Haha

Honestly, after all of this, I learned that I need to work on building confidence. I’m already repairing my body to make it better and stronger. But I need to repair my heart. For the longest time no one would even look in my direction unless they were elderly or homeless because of the way I looked and the attitude I had. Its time to change that. I need to convince myself that I’m not that big girl anymore. I’m healthier and getting sexier by the day. It’s just going to be a long process, however I’m grateful for the lessons learned tonight.

Until next time…

Wait...you got pregnant ON PURPOSE?

A few posts ago, I ranted about the velocity in which my friends are getting engaged, married, and popping out children. Today I will focus strictly on a rant regarding popping out children and of course, a philosophical take on FaceBook.

Every 20-something is going through this phase where pregnancies among one's social group is now a normal thing. I mean, let's face it...everyone is having babies. Its kind of funny, lately I think I'm being stalked by pregnant people I don't know. I think its because I'm hyper aware of pregnant women these days. Last night I had a dream about my pregnant college bestie (who is due a few days before my birthday). Pregnancy is EVERYWHERE.

Clearly that study on the news stating the US birth rate is declining was WRONG.

Anyway, Facebook...love it or hate it, our society is ADDICTED to it. You stalk people from Kindergarten to see if they're hot or not...you follow your college friends and post annually on their wall for their birthday...you creepily check out family members...etc. But Facebook is a megaphone for good news. See, users can filter the bad shit out of their lives and only post positive things on Facebook. This makes viewers believe that individual's life is PERFECT.

Think about it, you're on Facebook and all you see are pictures from vaycay in Europe, your ex-roomate's hot boyfriend, a very extravagant wedding, oh...yes...and ultrasound pictures with status updates like "OMG +1 SO EXCITED" followed by 50+ comments which all say "holy shit, congratulations"

Now, what you may not know about your "friends" who seem to have it all is that their dear Aunt Susan has cancer (unless they status a prayer request) or that their trip to Europe has now put them in a state of debt where they have to move back in with their parents. Or that their hot boyfriend just cheated on them with another guy. These are the updates you DON'T get to see on Facebook, rightly so because that's not classy.

So, back to babies. I have a point I swear. When damn near all your friends are posting positive pregnancy test pictures and ultrasound pictures of tiny fetus like peanuts or using the famous BABY TRACKER APP which states "3 weeks...my baby is the size of a pencil eraser omg" you start to wonder...am I doing something wrong?

There is an age old experiment where people get in an elevator and face the back wall. The one person that isn't in on the joke feels self-conscious and is like "but the doors are here...." Pressured by the need to conform, that person faces the back wall as well. They don't want to be an outsider and perhaps the wall facing riders know something he or she does not.

Conformity. We're at an era where people are having kids in their 20s and that is great, however Facebook makes it seem like EVERYONE IS DOING IT which is not so great. I have a decent salary paying job, I live in a 1 bedroom apartment in Center City Philadelphia, I'm in graduate school studying a craft I love and the only baby I see myself having anytime soon is my writing career....but am I doing it wrong? Like, should I be trying to nail down a man and pop out kids? DID THE INTERNAL BABY CLOCK SPEED UP AND NO ONE TOLD ME???? I'm in the elevator, knowing the doors open to the front but wondering why everyone is staring at the back wall.

Fear not friends, I am not going to go out and get knocked up. The majority of my "friends" who are preggers are actually in love with someone and want to raise a family. I'm in love with Dunkin Donuts Iced Coffee and I want to raise the world's awareness of myself. But it does make you wonder.

In my engagement rant post I stated I'll probably be that drunk grandmother sneaking martinis before noon...but perhaps I'll be that woman that has no family but many lovers. I'll have an annual lover name Gustavo who I hook up with every time I go to Italy. I won't get married....(or divorced) and I won't have to support kids (just my Boxer dog, Bronx and perhaps...my parents). I'll write until I die, drink until my liver gives out, and try a lot of things that my soon to be homemaker friends will never experience until their kid go to college. That sounds good to me.

Until next time...

The MisAdventures of MA

Groupon. I love it. I'm cheap as crap. As a social worker in the poor urban jungle, I make enough money but not enough where I can afford extravagant things. Which is why if I want my hair did, or my nails painted, or to go on a trip somewhere, I rely on Groupon, Living Social, Eversave and Deal You.

Which is why when a $45 cut, blow dry and color Groupon popped up I jumped at the opportunity. I've been dying my hair a Medium Chestnut Brown for the past few months. I love it but the color fades quickly, and I think salon color might last longer. Plus girlfriend needs to cover up her five-head with some bangs. So after researching the website and the Yelp reviews, I decided to go for it!

Today I went to schedule my appointment. I'm flying down to Ashville, NC in late August to visit a bestie of mine, so I wanted to look good. Welp, an African American lady answered the phone. I was like "oh shit."

Why do you ask was I like oh shit? Because after more research it appeared that I had purchased a Groupon for a black hair salon...which specializes in ethnic hair...which my hair is not. I panicked and consulted my co-workers. The lady that answered the phone had to call me back anyway. I could imagine her saying to her coworkers "There is a white lady on the phone!"

I don't care if a black lady does my hair. I just can't get a wrap, twist or weave. :) However, the lovely Groupon featured a blond haired blue eyed white chick as the picture on the ad. Also the website and Groupon stated that the salon SPECIALIZED IN ALL HAIR TYPES AND TEXTURES. Which made me think I was included.

Long story short, they called me back and I've got an appointment for August 11th. :) They do specialize in ALL hair types, it seems. I just thought it would have been an embarrassing conversation if it was an exclusive ethnic hair salon. "Hey, I'm cheap and wanted to get in on this Groupon but didn't realize it wasn't for my type of hair."

What can I say, I'm a magnet for misfortune. At least everything worked out for the best. To make it even better, I schedule a massage for that Sunday so I'm making it a self-care weekend. Can't beat that!

Until next time....

PinStaTwitterBook - Bucket Lists of Summer '12

Ever since I finished my first year of graduate school, I find that I have a lot of time on my hands. Since I spent months reading 100+ pages a week, writing little essays to prove to my professors I read the content, learning about Twitter, reporting on local stories, memorizing every country and capital in the entire world, spending 6+ hours creating double trucks, and working a full time job....I feel the need to fill that time with something that will enrich my life.

Sadly, Happy Hours with coworkers don't count...because that has been the latest trend. That, and looking back at Summer '11 and how miserable I was. I had 2 friends, I spent a lot of time alone, and I was sad all the time. This summer, I've been hitting up happy hours, cultural events, free concerts and every weekend gets booked with fun activities both with friends and solo before it even arrives. I've become quite the social butterfly again and I love it.

In addition to a very alive social life, I've also spent some time learning things and paying attention to the world around me. I have a Twitter account where I follow major news stories and try to contribute something of value to the Twitterverse. I have 140 characters and I don't want to use them saying things like "out for a walk, what a beautiful day!" I wish I had more followers because then I'd feel more relevant. haha I've also taken to following Philly Twitter accounts that tell me when fun things go down in the city. Now I'm a walking Zagat guide that knows where to eat, where to drink cheap, and where to party.

I'm also in love with Instagram. I find that any picture you take with Instagram (mainly self portraits) are instantly more flattering than regular pictures. There is something about a blurred sepia tone that makes me look skinner and healthier. So that is a new addiction.

Pinterest is an elite club for people who want to post their wants and likes for the world...like myself. I now find myself pinning books to read, my Summer bucket list, books I've read, My Style and finding endless things to cook, bake, mix, and enjoy. Kind of love it and its addicting qualities.

Facebook has been around for awhile, and while I hate Timeline, I've gotten used to it. To celebrate the obnoxiously hard to stalk format, I decided to create my own little Facebook game. Remember those 30 day song challenge games? Your friends would post a song or a photo every day for 30 days under some theme. Like "A song that makes me cry....My heart will go on, Titanic." That sort of thing. Well, in the spirit of originality, I decided to create my own 30 day photo challenge. For 30 days I'm taking pictures (one a day) and posting them to Facebook right after capture. I'm taking photos of interesting, beautiful, funny and creative things. Its sort of turning into "People of Philly" (like People of Wal-Mart) but I want to maintain serious subjects in the challenge as well.

Speaking of challenges...tomorrow my work kicks off the Biggest Loser Challenge which I have told everyone that I will win. I'm plotting a serious workout routine that mixes it up and I'm going to eat deliciously healthy foods. To kick off the healthy, I indulged in a "last supper" of sorts....Chinese take out! Yay! I'll be eating salad and beans and lean meats for the next 12 weeks. Winner gets all the money and it is a $10 buy in. I'm going to win and then spend the money on Happy Hours or a trip to Atlantic City. Muahaha

In an effort to learn new things, I'm also going to try a new fruit every time I go to Reading Terminal Market to buy produce. Fortunately this is every few weeks, so I won't run out of options. My latest adventure involved a Prickly Cactus Pear, which was actually quite delicious. I think I might try Mango next. I don't think I've ever eaten a Mango before. Also, sidenote: writing has been very easy lately, I should probably take advantage of the creative juices while I can and write some stuff before I run dry again.

I'm also enjoying Thrift Store shopping, shameless flirting every weekend, wearing flowers in my hair, reading books for pleasure and going to Phillies games whenever possible. I'm pretty excited about the summer.

As for technology, I'm sure I'll be getting into Tumblr soon.

Until next time....

The Gallbladder Story

Once upon a time...

Well, it all started with crazy abdominal pain at night. It would feel like someone blew a balloon up in my abdominal cavity and the pressure would cause me to vomit. I went to a G.I. specialist who, early on in the adventure, had no idea what was wrong with me. I had an endoscopy (came back normal), various blood tests, a HIDA scan (which said my gallbladder was completely blocked) and then finally...a recommendation for surgical removal of the gallbladder.

All was well with this. My mom actually came up for my HIDA scan. The internet said it was going to be long, painful, and uncomfortable. What was supposed to be pure agony was actually enjoyable! All I had to do was wear an intravenous port and hug a giant machine every 15 minutes while it took pictures of my insides. I even got to be fully clothed!

So I picked my surgeon and met with him to discuss my "options." He wanted an MRI to make sure my common bile duct wasn't blocked. Fair enough. We scheduled the surgery for May (this was sometime in early March....) because I REFUSED to have surgery during graduate school. I was in the middle of the semester from HELL and I didn't think it was possible to take time off for a surgery. I wanted to wait it out. He said I could as long as I could tolerate my pain. I have a somewhat decent pain threshold so I figured I could deal with a few more gallbladder attacks until mid-May.

Or so I thought....

I had taken off Friday, March 30th, to work on some stuff for school. I woke up at 6am with a sharp pain in my right upper abdomen. The pain got worse and before I knew it, I was having waves of sweating episodes, dizziness, and yes...vomiting. "This could be it" I thought. My worst fear was that my gallbladder ruptured or was about to. I tried to tough it out for a few more hours....make that about 6 more hours. I dozed off a little bit but for the most part I was in really dire pain. Nothing worked...pain meds didn't help, hot compresses didn't help...NOTHING was working.

Finally I called up work and asked if someone could take me to the hospital. I could walk to the nearest hospital but if I needed emergency surgery I wanted MY surgeon to do it. I wanted to go to MY hospital...which is about 40 minutes away in the suburbs. Fortunately I got a ride and as we wound through the streets of North East Philly, I tried to think happy thoughts. I packed an overnight bag because I did not know what to expect.

When I arrived in the ER, a nurse took down my info and asked me to have a seat. 25 minutes later I was called into triage. After taking some of my blood, peeing in a cup, and waiting forever (and freaking out because a patient came in vomiting in a coffee can and I was already feeling like vomiting myself) I was finally put in an ER room. It took, LITERALLY 10 hours, before I was pain free. A nurse gave me anti-nausea and anti-acid medication and then I finally felt relief. I was offered a "loopy" pain med as well but I declined. See, I live alone and my parents are in Virginia (worried sick about me...waiting for updates). I knew I had to be in my full senses to provide everyone the updates they needed AND to make an important decision regarding surgery.

Hours passed (I think about 6 more) and my surgeon tried hard not to say "what the hell, Mare I told you so." He scheduled me for a Monday surgery depending the results from an MRI. The catch? I had to admitted to the hospital FOR THE WHOLE WEEKEND. I asked him how much it was going to cost me. He said "where do you work?" I said "I work for Holy Redeemer" and he replied "Oh, well don't worry about it then." I wanted to respond with "Says the man wearing the Rolex" but I decided to keep my quips to myself.

After that exchange I was sent away for an ultrasound. My technician was great and even printed a picture of my gallstones for me. I had 19 GALLSTONES. They were itty bitty but they were very visible. After this I happily showed everyone who would look the picture of my "19 kids." I have to admit, I was told I was the evening entertainment in the ER.

After another hour or so (and a few beloved visitors) I was put in my room. I had never stayed at a hospital before so this was a new experience. The best part (by best I mean worst) is that I had to be chained to an IV constantly AND was unable to eat or drink until after surgery. I could have ice chips...that’s it. I thought I was going to die. I told everyone that would listen that I wanted a cheeseburger and a margarita.

I had some homework with me, my Ipad which was dying, my Ipod which was also dying, my stuffed dog and a change of clothes. I had a room to myself which is one of the many benefits of Holy Redeemer Hospital. AND I had a TV. So it wasn't too bad. I didn't sleep much my first night.

Waking up in a hospital is just like it is on Grey's Anatomy. At 7am sharp a nurse comes in to take your blood. Then a guy comes in to empty your trash. Then housekeeping comes in and asks to clean your room. Then another nurse comes in. Oh, and someone at some point comes in to check your vital signs. By 9am I was up and really wanting a shower. My amazing RN found me some body wash/shampoo combination (they originally only had bar soap) so I could wash my hair. I was unchained from my IV but had to shower while wearing a rubber glove taped to my arm.

I spent the day walking around the floor with my IV, being entertained by a few visitors and I watched the second half of "The Passion." I was so grateful I had my phone and charger so I could keep tabs with the rest of the world. That afternoon I was denied ice chips for the first time. I actually cried when the nurse left. I was starving and felt fine, except for the fact I was starving. I was being kept alive by the IV but I wanted to eat some food. Also, I had to pee in a bucket so they could measure my urine output. By the third bathroom trip, my bathroom started to smell like a SEPTA tunnel on a hot summer day. :(

That evening my best friend came to visit me all the way from New Brunswick, NJ. He was amused that he could just walk in the hospital and hang out with me without showing ID or checking in. I told him the hospital was filled with a majority of elderly white people. David brought me coloring books, "Catching Fire" - the second book of the Hunger Games series (which became a conversation piece for everyone who came into my room until discharge when they noticed it on my bed) and crayons! I finally had entertainment! (Earlier that day my co-worker brought me trashy magazines and an activity book). David and I spent quality time releasing a trapped Snickers bar from the snack machine in the waiting room. Then David left and I fell asleep, sort of.

My wing was made up of short stay patients and oncology patients...that means not a day went by without my hearing someone retching and vomiting. It was not a good situation. In the meantime, I alerted family, friends, my classmates and my professors of my condition. Everyone was understanding. Its kind of funny, once I was admitted to the hospital I felt like it was a "Jesus take the wheel" moment. Everything, literally EVERYTHING was out of my control and I had to just ride with it. I had been under a great deal of stress at work and at school, which may have expedited my surgery as well, but I was relieved to just have to take care of business and let the chips fall where they may.

Sunday I was offered Holy Communion, which I politely declined since I was still denied food and drink. I had my MRI that morning (I hate MRIs...) I had to hold my breath a lot and it was really hard. I found out later my inability to hold my breath for long really jacked up the images. I was particularly amused when my technician asked me if I had any food or drink to which I responded, “Honey, I haven’t eaten for three days.” She was amused too. My surgeon came in later and said he couldn't read the MRI. He had to wait for a radiologist to read it for him. However, he gave me the best news in the entire world. I COULD EAT CLEAR LIQUIDS/FOODS until 12am. I was so excited. My nurse came in to check on my and I nearly yelled with joy "I CAN EAT CLEARS!!!!" She thought I was lying.

Then she checked with my dr. and found out that yes, I was telling the truth. I was a little stung. During my stay I was a model patient....not letting my ice melt so I could drink the water...moving around every so often, being polite to everyone that entered my room...etc. Although I did have a lot of fun when nurses would ask me if I had a bowel movement. I was like "no....you won't let me eat." Once my nurse found out I was telling the truth, she brought me some water ice. It was the best tasting water ice I ever had in my life. Then I got to eat a soup broth, jello and juice. The food service worker brought me my tray and I told him how excited I was. "Its just broth," he said. "No, NO...YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND...I HAVEN'T EATEN SINCE THURSDAY EVENING....ITS SUNDAY AFTERNOON," I replied. He smiled and let me enjoy my broth.

I spent the day happily eating jello and water ice and juice to my hearts content. My night nurse was more than happy to accommodate my intense hunger. She kept feeding me until 11:30pm when I called it quits. Sunday was a pretty good day. My friends Sarai and Anne came to visit. Anne brought much needed items such as gum, razors, socks, and some of her magazines. I'm not going to lie, I kind of got showered with gifts during my hospital stay. I got beautiful flowers from the Angelus Community of the Sisters of the Holy Redeemer, and all the reading material I could want. My mom stopped by my apartment to grab a much needed change of clothes and some chargers and things.

I had trouble sleeping again, but woke up around 4am to my nurse saying "You're surgery has been scheduled. I think you're going in at 1pm" That was confirmed later on during the day. My mom came over bright and early and I paced around waiting to go to the operating room. I hated that you have to go naked...I mean yes..you can wear your gown...but nothing else.

When I went to my initial appt with my surgeon, he told me he would take a photo of my gallbladder for me if I reminded him. I did...multiple times. So when it was finally time to wheel me away in my bed to the OR, I had my camera tucked away in my gown pocket. We were outside the operating room doors when I said "I have some contraband on me." The nurses looked alarmed. I whipped out my camera and explained the situation. One nurse thought it was genius the other thought I was crazy. Then the OR staff had a good laugh about it (in a good way). One scrub nurse took the photo above to test the camera out.

The next thing (and last thing) I remember was being given a sedative. I moved to the OR table and they gave me a drug that they said "would feel like I drank a case of Natural Light." To which I got excited about the reference and tried to contribute to the conversation until they said they were giving me my anesthesia. I said "catch you on the flip side" and the next thing I knew I was awake in the recovery room...crying.

"Does it hurt that badly, dear?" a nurse asked me. My brain quickly registered what had happened...I had surgery...my gallbladder was removed.... "No" I replied. "Do you even know that you are crying right now?" the nurse asked. "Noooo" I wailed. Then I realized I was crying my eyes out. I think it was part anesthesia, part relief, and part pain because I was a little sore. The nurse kept telling me I could go back to sleep but I didn't want to. The patient next to me apparently couldn't wake up. She kept going back to sleep and the nurses were worried about her. My surgeon popped in and whispered "everything went well, you did great." I vaguely remember that. A good friend, who is a Sister of the Holy Redeemer came in to say hi to me. I was so happy to see her. I think I started crying all over again.

The nurse gave me some ice chips to eat and I was eventually wheeled down the hall. I toasted my mother in the waiting room with my ice chips and said "its tequila!" Then I was put in my room and hooked up to oxygen. I was pale, tired, and the pain was starting up a bit but I had made it through. I dozed off a bit but when it was time for me to go to the bathroom for the first time that day it was a reality check. They had strapped pressure cuffs to my ankles which squeezed and released my legs on 15 second intervals. For me to go to the bathroom, I had to be unhooked from the cuffs, unhooked from the O2 and carefully guided into the bathroom.

I cried again. The pain was awful. I had no abdominal strength due to the surgery. The nurse pretty much stood in the bathroom with me and even though I really had to pee...I couldn't...at least not right away. I was so frustrated and upset. By the time I was ushered back to my bed, I was shaking and crying. I had to rely on everyone for the smallest little thing and it hurt so badly.

I learned my pain medication schedule quickly. I could be given pain meds every 4 hours. Honestly, my pain reminded me it was time for the next dose. I had a fitful night of sleep but by 4am, my nurse mercifully removed the pressure cuffs. I was able to sleep for a short period of time but it was a horrible night.

The next day I was told to get my ass out of bed and move around. I had to use a breathing exercise machine every hour and walk around every few hours. It would be considered good progress if I could a)move around b)eat and c) pass gas before the day was over. I was finally discharged at 7pm (after eating 3 whole meals with no ill effects!) My cute transporter (who ironically wheeled me to my room Friday night before ending his shift and spending the weekend in Penn State) wheeled me outside where I got into the car and headed to the Provincialate of the Sisters of the Holy Redeemer with my mom for two days before heading home to Virginia to continue recovery.

I was out of work and school for two weeks. However, I spent everyday of recovery doing assignments so by the time I went back to class, I was completely caught up on homework! I'm a pompass ass, I know. I lost some weight after surgery was good. Of course, I got my picture as well.

VIEW DISCRETION ADVISED: GRAPHIC CONTENT

Looks like a buffalo wing, right? That is my gallbladder after surgical removal. The best part was that my surgeon even took a picture with the laparoscopic tools and I got a pre-removal picture as well! :)

Recovery was a long process...learning what I can and can not eat was the worst. The first time I tried to do yoga was an epic fail and my belly button was sore for a long time. Now I'm pretty much back to normal...watching what I eat...staying away from buffets and enjoying being healthy and attack free again.

I learned a lot in the hospital...like how hard nurses jobs are an the different sounds of laundry carts, food carts, and hospital beds make while rolling down the hall. I learned you can be kept alive on nothing but a potassium mixture in an IV, and that you can sleep being chained to an IV without strangling yourself in your sleep or pulling out the IV while rolling over (two of my biggest fears). I learned the value you have in other people's lives based on their generosity and concern during the time of an emergency. I learned not to push myself so hard that it hurts and that sometimes Jesus just has to take the wheel.

Until next time...

When All Your Friends Are Engaged, Married or Having Kids

I owe a life update like woah. I pride myself in keeping up with this blog. I had surgery in April, and I swear I'll blog about that later. But right now I have been struck by inspiration to rant about something else.

When all your friends are engaged...married...or having kids. Have you been on Facebook lately? If you're a 20-30 something, you'll notice that Facebook is turning into a virtual Wedding Photo Album. Everyone you know is suddenly getting hitched and you don't know what to do. If this were the game of life, you'd be on the start square and everyone else would be halfway through the game.

Granted, I'm no idiot. Life is like this: you go to school make friends, go to high school, go to college, everyone moves away and gets a job, people get engaged, people get married, people have kids...sometimes not in that order, people get jobs again...people grow old, people die. That pretty much sums up life...to some extent. But when you find yourself in one of those crazy transition periods, you can't help but look around you and go "what is the rush, everybody?"

I'm on my third glass of wine, but I realized some inevitable truths after viewing WEDDINGbook.

1) While I'm posting links to my latest articles, my friends will be posting pictures from their "Mommy and Me" classes

2) While I'm struggling to find an affordable car...my friends will be buying their first home.

3) When I finally get married, I'm going to have to rent out a McDonalds Playplace to accomodate my friends' children because there is no way they can all come to my wedding if I don't allow kids to attend.

4) The idea of traveling to Italy once every 5 years and culminating several Italian lovers sounds like a great idea.

5) My one best friends who is not married and I agree that if we're not engaged by 30, we'll file for a civil union and have male lovers on the side.

Looking at my life now, I think I'm doing MY life in order. You know the whole school, school, more school, career thing. I can not even PICTURE myself engaged right now, or married, OR WITH KIDS. In fact, every time I help with a major event at my work I start to question if I want kids at all. However I do want to get married SOME DAY and I do want kids SOME DAY. That day is not today.

I read in Cosmo that there is a large percentage of divorcees that married between 18-25 because people are in a "rush" to get married. They want to keep up with the Jones' and make sure their doing everything that everyone else is doing. Well, I'm married to my current salaried job...and graduate school.

But I can't help but wonder every so often/everytime I open up WEDDINGbook, if I'm behind in the game. Shouldn't I be developing that long lasting relationship with someone that will eventually lead to marriage? I mean, shouldn't I be hunted or hunt or something for someone? Its funny, people always say that 'it will happen when you least expect it' but I'm anticipating it all the time so I don't miss it. No, really, I walk down the street and if a stranger smiles at me I check Craigslist Missed Connections to see if I end up there. "To the girl with the red t-shirt that smiled at me on Market Street...."

Blame the wine.

I just want it all. I want the kick ass career. The adoring husband. The cute kids that look like they should be on a Gerber commercial. Then I want to grow old with my family and become that crazy grandmother whoes grandkids have to yell "Grandma, why are you drinking a martini? It's not even noon!" To which I'd respond "mind your own kids, when you're my age...you can do whatever the hell you want."

Until next time...

My New Years Resolution(S) ARE:

Another year has come and gone. On January 1st, 2012, millions of people around the world vow to utilize this 'new beginning' and 'clean slate' to make their lives better and healthier and happier. Come on, who really follows through with New Years Resolutions?

I myself have made a few:

1) Manage my time better - I'm a natural at procrastination and I'm also a natural and being lazy. Sure I've accomplished a lot, but in my "free time," I'm lazy as crap. As soon as I get home after work, I make myself a nice dinner and curl up on the couch for a rousing three hours or so of Netflix. Seriously? I could read a book, do a 20 minute yoga work out, write a letter to a friend or even WRITE FOR FUN! So my goal is to try to use my time wisely and spend less time sleeping in/watching Netflix and more time being productive and healthy. We'll see how long it lasts. Yesterday was technically my first day and I showered, cooked and watched Netflix. Old habits die hard!

2) Become more social - I know, I was the social butterfly in high school/college...but lately I've lazily embraced the joys of hermit-hood. Its great lounging around in sweatpants, cleaning my apartment and yes...watching Netflix instead of going to social gatherings which could a) help me develop a friend circle or even b) help me find a man. In 2011, I decided that many social gatherings were just too much work. I would only go out on the weekends and even that seemed too tiring. So I'm going to work on attending the events I'm invited to.

3) Write more - school will make me write a plenty, but I haven't freely expressed myself lately. I have a novel that barely has a first chapter and a poetry notebook with about 5 pages filled. I'd like to work on both of these things, since writing is the one talent God gave me. It's the laziness...and the Netflix.

4) Travel - This resolution is expensive but there are many cheap ways to get around these days. You can get to DC or New York for as little as $1 per way if you order your tickets fast enough. Plus there are always cheap deals for one or two night stays at fancy hotels in the area. Now, by travel...I don't mean Cancun, Italy, Ireland...etc. I would love to do that but given resolution 5, that's not plausible. I just want to go on mini-vacations once every two months. They can be close or far, doesn't matter. Just have to get out of the city for more than a trip to Virginia and a conference for work.

5) Budget better - In an effort to be healthier, I'm going to try to ween myself off of things like ice coffee from Dunkin Donuts, those delicious and healthy breakfast sandwiches from 7-11, and on the rare occasions I'm up for McDonalds breakfast, those damn sausage burritos. I ate more fast food in the month of December than I did during the entire seasons of Summer, Fall and Winter combined. My bank account is losing weight but I certainly am not. This also goes for Potsticker cravings and random dresses from Ross because I need "a pick me up." Done.

6) Become more spiritual - I'll be honest, I haven't been to Mass since November. I know, shocking for a girl who spent a year living with Catholic Sisters. I got so busy with school and work and life that I neglected to take care of my spiritual life. I pray, occasionally....but that is about it. I'd really like to get my butt back to Mass more regularly and incorporate some devotions in my life too. I think part of the reason I'm typically under-motivated and lazy and off balance is because my spiritual life is like that too.

That is it. Why have one resolution when you can have 6! I'm also planning on creating a new Bucket List for 2012. I'll recycle some of the old tasks that were never completed as well as come up with some new ones for the year as well. Hopefully I can accomplish more this year than last year.

Here's to a happier, healthier, wholesome MA! Hurrah!

Until next time...

The Joys of Clarity

Well blog, I apologize for neglecting you for so long. I neglect things a lot, which is a key reason I don't have any children, or pets, or living plants...

Anyway a lot as happened since my last post. I completed my first semester of graduate school! I'm at Temple University pursuing my Masters of Journalism. Believe me, it was hard, I bitched a lot, I cried, had panic attacks, walked around with crazy eyes but somehow managed to not only successfully complete my first semester but get A's in both my classes as well!

During my final presentation for my Critical Perspectives of Journalism class, I made a 2 minute movie to introduce my presentation: (it was on comparative news coverage of Turkey's recent earthquake and Haiti's devastating one). As the intro ran, I saw my professor exchange looks with one of the Ph.D students in our class. I stood there in the corner, smiling. At the end of my presentation, my friend says "I think you have a future in this field." We all laughed. My professor loved the intro and asked if I put it together on my own - Yes I did. It was a great moment.

Now, I didn't know I was carrying a 4.0 GPA until right before Christmas. I re-checked my grades to see if there were any updates and low and behold I had a 4.0. Then over Christmas break I went to a Chinese restaurant with my parents and received a fortune cookie which read "you are headed in the right direction." Well, that is always a good thing.

Once accepted into grad school, I didn't feel so certain about anything since I joined the RMC program. I love looking back to see how I ended up where I am today. William and Mary Graduate, volunteers for a year and lives with Catholic nuns, works full time for free, gets hired and a decent salaried job, lives in Center City Philadelphia and goes on to Graduate School for Journalism. It all seems like a grand master plan and I'm happy to be going along with it.

Christmas break was nice, short but nice. I like sleeping oh so much. haha I got an Ipad for Christmas and well...I'd addicted to it. I feel the need to hold it just a few minutes each day when I'm not even playing on it. I think at one point I was watching a movie with my mom and I was clutching the Ipad like it was some sort of memorable keepsake. Its awesome, and its going to be even more awesome using it for school.

This semester I'm taking Editing the News and Leadership in Communications Management. I heard Editing is a doozy, so I'm nervous. Way to set the bar so damn high I might not be able to reach it again. The pressure I put on myself to achieve is insane. I haven't cared so much about school/grades since high school! I'll admit it, I could have been in to the top ranks of my class at William and Mary had I actually tried.

As for the New Year, I guess I'm going to redo my bucket list and try to be healthier. I'm not going to say "I wanna lose 10 lbs!" That just sets you up for failure. I just want to be healthier, more active and more cultured. I also want to travel more around the East Coast when I get the chance.

That is about it! 2011, you were pretty awesome. I liked you a lot.

Until next time...

The 100th Blog Post

I've been trying to find a momentous occasion in which the 100th blog post could be dedicated towards and I suppose this is it. Today I turned 24 years old on August 24th. It is my Golden Birthday. It was a pretty epic birthday filled with cards, cupcakes, a delicious dinner with a dear friend, margaritas, and lots of well wishes. I was on a bit of a euphoric haze after an exciting orientation at Temple University School of Communications and Theatre where I will begin my Masters of Journalism in approx. one week. It was so refreshing to be around like minded people my own age. There is great hope that I'll be able to form my own little grad school crew of friends to do fun things with. Maybe I'll find some future bridesmaids. haha I'm kidding

Over the past few months I've learned a lot about myself. I've had to reshape the way I see myself and adapt to interesting aspects never before brought to light until recently. I've been challenged at my job in a way I hoped to never be ever again. I ended up in the ER after falling down steps at work and slamming my head into a glass door. I found out I owe about 9 months of gas money to PGW because I hadn't established an account when I moved in and now...sadly...Gilbert is dying.

Gilbert and I began our journey a little over a year ago. Me and this red and blue Betta fish moved to the big city of Philadelphia where we spent our first freezing cold night with our teeth chattering and I wrapped a towel around his bowl to keep him warm. Since then we've both adapted nicely to our new surroundings. I love this city and plan to stay here for awhile and Gilbert soon grew to love his Christmas present of a 5 gallon heated and filtered tank with castles to hide in and plants to sleep by. About a week ago he became listless and spends all his time on the bottom of the tank. He is not eating or swimming and it is just a matter of time before his little fish soul floats to the surface and I have to bury him. I'm not going to flush him down the toilet. I don't care if all drains lead to the ocean. I'm thinking about burying him by the river where I like to fish. Its ironic and peaceful at the same time.

Despite these downs (with even more downs in between) I've discovered that, like many in the human race, I am quite resilient. I didn't fall and cope with various vices but I probably could have done more healthy things to deal with the onslaught of a lot of shit in a short amount of time. Nonetheless I think I'm on an upswing.

I start classes on Tuesday and will go to school Tuesday and Weds nights. It is going to be tough working full time and going to school part time but I think I can handle it. I'm super excited to be back in school and am going to try my best to be the best. On orientation day, I felt like the first episode of Grey's Anatomy where the chief says "4 of you will make it, 2 will quit, 3 will be asked to leave." I mean no one said that at orientation but I felt a sense of competitiveness within myself. That is good, that is what I need.

So now I'm just waiting for classes to start and enjoying the East Coast Apocalypse with our East Coast Earthquake and now the potential doom and wrath from Hurricane Irene. I hope no one dies but I have to admit, I'm a fan of a big storm. I like hurricanes...probably because I've lived through so many of them. I know they can be destructive but in a weird way, they can be kind of fun too.

I dedicate this blog post to Gilbert, my beloved and surprisingly still living Betta fish, to my dear friends who made me feel so special on the day of my birth, to my family who loves me dearly and to the new friends of my future in graduate school. Life is good today.

Until next time...

Who Says You Can't Go Home?

Alas, I'm on the Eastern Shore of Virginia for what I'm willing to call a "vacation." I'm spending my all time favorite holiday (the 4th of July) at home with my parents. I was starting to get a little homesick for the great ESVA while watching "Friday Night Lights." This show, my new favorite show, portrays a high school football team which is the epicenter of a small town called Dillon in Texas. Now, the Eastern Shore doesn't revolve around a football team, but the small town factor of the show reminds me of well, home.

I can't go anywhere without running into someone I know. Whether its my friend who beat me out for class president my freshman year of high school, or my guidance counselor secretary or even my supervisor from my high school job, the fact of the matter is, you can't go anywhere on the Eastern Shore without bumping into someone you know. Try going to the local Walmart and you'll find people you worked with, lived by, went to school with, dated...etc. And I love every minute of it.

This evening I found myself at the Wachapregue Carnival, a small town fireman's carnival where anyone who is anyone comes out for fried food, kareoke, and a few carnival rides. I used to frequent the carnival when it was held in my old town, Onancock. I remember getting all dressed up just to walk around the carnival grounds and show off. Well now, years later, I find myself at this other small town carnival. Now I've been there many times before, but after living in my concrete jungle and working pretty close to the ghetto, its almost like a reverse yet refreshing culture shock to be amongst the small town folk.

I'm standing there, watching a guy sing a country song while wearing a cowboy hat and everyone and their mother is sitting at picnic tables, happily listening. Then I walk by the bingo tables (where I spent some quality time myself). At one point, my friend and I left the carnival for a bit and ended up at a little outdoor gathering/party where we scored some free Miller Light (because everyone is nice on the Shore) and some really good live music. I found myself sitting on a picnic table, with the seaside breeze blowing my hair, sipping on a Miller Light, listening to "Sweet Home Alabama" while overlooking the beautiful waterfront of this small shore town. It was an amazing feeling. I feel sort of displaced from it all. Its hard to realize that I spent my formative years on this little strip of land surrounded by water.

I returned to the carnival and just embraced the whole enviornment. When I come home to the Shore, I tend to look at the beautiful waterfronts and the acres and acres of farmland and listen to the stillness of life, thinking "why in the world did I give this up?" Yet this time I feel differently. While watching the locals mingle at the carnival, part of me was like "people, there is so much more out there besides the Eastern Shore." I know most of them travel to other places, but to be born, live and die on the Eastern Shore has me mystified. I know it is an amazing place to live but I think about all the fun an opportunities I have in Philadelphia and feel sad that everyone here is missing out.

The Eastern Shore is quiet, peaceful and nobody asks me if I can spare some change. It is clean, open, and incredibly friendly. Yet Philadelphia is loud, busy, cultured, entertaining, and in its own way, beautiful too. So for the first time since venturing back home and leaving my city life for a bit, I feel content with my past and my future. The Eastern Shore of Virginia will always be home to me. It will always be a place to come back to and just soak up the peaceful life it holds. However, Philadelphia is my home too. I'm proud to live there and love the city very much.

While both places are vastly different, I still call both of them my home. :)

Until next time....

How I Became a Tourist in My Own City

My Memorial Day Weekend plans were set to the tune of something like this. Friday I'd leave work with my best friend and we'd go to this Mexican bar we went to last weekend for a happy hour to start the holiday. Saturday I'd fish along the Schukyll River all day while wearing a cowboy hat and listening to my Ipod. Sunday I'd attend church, a West Philly BBQ, and end the day either watching movies in bed or finding something fun to get into. Monday I'd clean the apartment and exercise or something.

That was the plan. Friday was solid, those things actually happened. Saturday, not so much, but I found something else to keep me occupied. As it turns out, Modells and KMart do not sell fishing supplies. I guess they figure people living in Center City Philadelphia have no use for such things. Either that or fishing poles are not allowed on SEPTA buses. Anyway, I was bummed. Fortunately I found this out Friday night instead of wasting a trip to the Gallery on Saturday.

So Saturday comes and I make a delicious and healthy breakfast. By 2pm (I woke up around 11) I'm ready to go. I decided to visit the five original squares laid out by William Penn in Philadelphia. That would be Rittenhouse, Washington, Franklin, Centre (City Hall) and Logan Squares respectively. They make up a large rectangle surrounding downtown Philadelphia. So I walked 5.5 miles, enjoyed some site seeing (and gelato which I've never had before today) and took a lot of pictures. Overall it was a great way to spend a "plan-less" day. Tomorrow should be on track and Monday...well...we'll see what it brings.

In other news I finally submitted something to the Philadelphia Writer's Group. Wait, not just something, but the first chapter and the introduction to my novel, "The Writer's House." That's right, I'm finally working on a novel. I was really excited to submit it and I'm prepared to handle the critiques come June. If anything I need it since I've never worked on a novel before. My goal is to marry this project (divorce my work for a bit but still keep seeing him) and finish it! No set date but just to steadfastly work on it for awhile.

I walked 5.5 miles today. Wow!

Oh, look...a chicken!

I'm kidding. The heat is making me very scatterbrained. That's about all I had to say. Enjoy the holiday! (Wow, that rhymed!)

Until next time...

How I Survived the Rapture and Made New Navy Friends

For Rapture Day 2011, my cousin, Erin and I decided to hang out in Philly. It ended up being an epic day and an excellent idea.

We started off the day by getting a cup of Chai Tea (the best Chai in Philadelphia) at The Random Tea Room. Then we ventured down to Penn's Landing for Deleware River Day. We got to the River and immediatly gravitated to the USS Kauffman, a giant Navy ship that was docked at the landing. We wanted to tour it but the final tour had just been let onboard so we weren't able to go.

We decided to stalk the Navy guys, kind of blatnetly, and I found one who was absoutly adorable. I wanted to come up with some catchy Rapture pick up line but settled for asking for a picture.



Afterwards we went to visit the tugboats and then found a sailboat where we could take a one hour cruise onto the River for $5. So we did. It was about an hour till the rapture and we were about to "go on a boat, with our flippy floppies..." We met a guy and his daughter on board and had great conversations during our epic voyage. We took some fun pictures too.

Then I went back to stalk the hot Navy guy, to no avail. It was now about rapture time and the sky became dark and ominious. We took a few rapture pictures and then went down to South Street to have some delicious pizza at Lorenzos. After consuming a slice of pizza the size of our heads, we walked back to Old City and decided to have a beer at Mac's Tavern. This is when it gets interesting.

Erin and I were sitting at the end of the bar and I was in direct sightline to the Navy guys who happened to be in there. There were two seats open next to them but we didn't want to sit there and be obvious. Thankfully a guy and his friends tried to play darts behind us and Erin, slighly fearful she'd take a dart to the head, expressed her concerns. The bartender overheard us and relocated us to the seats next to the Navy boys. Call it fate, but I was overjoyed at our new placement.

After about 20 min we started talking to the one guy next to us. We played age guessing games, spattered some flattery back and forth and then the boys left. Erin and I were content with our brief interaction. We went to catch a bus to head back to my apartment so she could see it, and low and behold our Navy boys walked down the street towards us and invited us to come out with them again. We decided we'd go to one more bar but NOT on South Street. I took the guys and Erin to Drinker's on Market Street. I'm not going to lie, the highlight of my life was probably me leading a group of Navy guys down Market Street as if we were our own elite group. We got a table in Drinkers and had a merry ole' time.

Before we left, we took a group picture and wished each other well. It was a highlarious night filled with fun, eye candy, and epic stories. Before this weekend, I joked with my co-workers saying I'd spent the Rapture making new Navy friends and sure enough that is exactly what I did.

Until next time...

How I Got $1 After Escaping from Crazy Lil John

It was getting a little late in the evening on a Monday night. I had just finished up my personal training session followed by my weight management group which I affectionately call "fat class." After picking up some snacks for a work meeting for the following day, I went to 5th street to head back home. I hopped on the EL and got off at 11th street. I wanted to take a bus back because my bookbag was so heavy with the snacks and drinks. I didn't feel like walking home from City Hall.

As I waited at the vacant depot, a guy saunters up to me and sits down on the opposite end of the bench. He is Lil John's doppelganger. This guy even has the golden grill teeth. Maybe it was Lil John. All I know is that he was high, drunk, and crazy. He kept talking and rapping to himself. Then, when cars would stop at the traffic light, he'd scream at the cars and wave a cd around saying "HEY! BUY MY CD ITS HOT SHIIIITTTT!!!!"

Normally crazy people don't bother me. I typically avoid eye contact and find something shiny to stare at. Unfortunately the only shiny thing around was this guys teeth. There wasn't a bus in sight and I had to make muffins for the meeting as soon as I got home. I decided to hail a cab because I couldn't deal with the singing, slurring, crazy guy anymore.

The cab pulled up and I hopped in. Lil John screamed at the cab, trying to sell his hot shit CD. The cab driver, who looked like he could be from Turkey, said to me "what is he selling?" I told him "a music cd...and probably a poor one at that." "Thank you for rescuing me from crazy Lil John." Hailing from a foreign country, as most of the Philadelphia cab drivers do, my driver had no clue who Lil John was so the joke was lost.

I put my bus pass away and stared out the window. The driver interrupted my thoughts by asking me, "so what do you do?" Now, in the past I've had cabbies hit on me. One was a really hot Spanish guy who to this day I regret not getting his number. But this guy was just making polite conversation which was a switch from the Arabs who prefer to talk on their bluetooth the entire ride in their native language.

I told him I was a social worker who helped homeless women and children. I didn't know his scope of knowledge of shelters, transitional housing, and youth advocates so I played it simple. After giving him this information, he reached into the center console and whipped out a $1 bill. He handed it to me and said "for the donation bin."

I was touched and startled by the gesture. I was also really tired yet still managed to not make a crack about how we weren't a church or whatnot. I thanked him and told him I'd put it to good use. We continued our small talk which also included a brief conversation of what he should do with a bag of new baby clothes that a guy left in his cab and were now in the cab driver's personal car. In the end he decided to put them in a donation dumpster. He asked me if they'd reach needy people that way.

Having made the mistake of putting a ton of my clothes in the donation dumpster, I should have warned him that 9 times out of 10 the clothes just get torn apart and the fabric is recycled. Instead I wanted to keep his hopes alive and told him that "of course, the baby clothes will make it to a needy person."

We reached my stop and he said "It was a privilege driving you this evening. I really admire someone who helps others and does good for others. Its a rare thing. Have a great night." He gave me his number in case I ever needed a ride. I appreciated the gesture because he was so sincere. He clearly wasn't hitting on me and he cared about the human spirit. It was kind of a rare situation to cherish.

So the following day I brought in that dollar and told the Executive Director about it. We're not sure how it will be put to use but I assure you, it will help someone, someway. I'm a firm believer in donor intent so I'll be sure a resident or child benefits from this man's nice gesture. Yet, his kind words and thoughts behind the action were worth way more than the dollar.

Until next time...

M.A.'s Top 10

In light of feeling unfulfilled, here is a top ten list of things I'd like to do before I die:

1. Write/publish a Great American Novel, or at least one worthy of a noteworthy literary prize

2. Skydive

3. Go tent camping with a significant other

4. Interrupt a street break dancing routine with moves of my own and then walk away as if nothing happened

5. Learn to surf and purchase a surfboard

6. Own a boxer dog named Bronx

7. Travel to Italy, Australia, Africa, Ireland for the first time and visit Nicaragua again

8. Write an original song and have someone famous sing it

9. Dance on the Ellen Show (yet this requires me to become famous...oops)

10. Be married in a large cathedral

Eat, Pray, Love

On Sunday, after an epic night of going to the most bizarre yet really fun party in my life, I spend the day watching "Eat,Pray,Love" on Netflix and running over to my friend's house to do laundry. The story of "Eat,Pray,Love" is very interesting. I felt compelled to read it a little after the buzz of the story had died down. A good friend of mine lent it to me and I read a large portion of the book during an RMC retreat. Then, as always, I got really distracted by life and it took me a month or two to finish reading it. It was a great book, but I tend to not finish things when I start them and reading books that are lent to me is always one of those things.

Anyway, so I watched the movie (book was better but I still love Julia Roberts) and I felt so unfilfilled. Not because the movie, as most movies do, left out major and important parts of the plot, but because I found I was longing for my own adventure. Now, I'm not talking about an Italy, India, Bali kind of adventure for I do not have the money, resources, or time off for that. I'd be happy with a local vacay for a few days. But I feel I don't have enough vacation days or money for even the smallest of adventures. Additionally, I'm trying to go back to school and once that starts up (pending my acceptance) I really won't have time for a little getaway.

On top of that, I am not living up to my full potential. Between the weight management classes and work and an ecclectic social life made up of a variety of different people, corresponding into different groups, I don't have time. I feel off balanced, rushed, and like I'm just going through the motions. Here I am, at 23 yrs old and I have an amazing fulfilling job which allows me to make a difference every day. I have a great pay, great benefits, my own apartment in the heart of a buzzing city. Yet I wake up, roll into work, go home, cook, shower, sleep.

Do you want to know what I am NOT doing enough of? Writing. For myself. I don't journal anymore, I just update this blog. I haven't produced creative material in forever. I keep promising myself that one day I'll put myself out there and create and submit work to writing contests...etc But I keep promising and not doing.

What else am I not doing? I'm not praying, ever, unless someone close to me gets stricken with a sickness or a tragedy. I go to church but I just go through the motions, saying the responses, mumbling the words, and daydreaming about what I'm going to wear/eat/do afterwards and beyond into the week.

What else am I not doing? Taking care of myself. I can be the most selfish person you've ever met and also the most selfless. Lately, I feel like I'm living for everyone else but myself. I'm not taking time out to relax, meditate, walk for lesuire and yes...write. I'm too busy planning things for work, attending to my friends' mini crisis and whatever other trivial things that come my way.

These things are important but what is really important is finding balance. The weight management plan is stressful when you have to constantly be aware if your food is high or low glycemic. This gets particularly out of hand when your refrigerator dies in your apartment, like what just happened to me, and despite starving, you have to resisit the temptation to order an entire pizza and live off of it for a few days. The program has worked so far, but the demands are higher. I'm supposed to increase my exercise, do personal training, get up early and drink hot water with the juice of half a lemon squeezed in it, eat a big breakfast with protein and vegetables...yes vegetables for breakfast. Please, I'm lucky if I scarf down a banana or an orange before bolting out the door and rolling up late to work.

My job isn't particularly stressful right now, but I really, really HATE that my mind seems to think that the best time to brainstorm ideas for my job is while I'm laying in bed trying to fall asleep. My mind gets going, the wheels start turning, and before I know it, my alarm is going off and I realize I haven't slept. Forget all of those great ideas because I'm so angry I didn't sleep that I trudge into work looking like a hateful hateful person because I'm so damn tired.

All I have to do is find time for the things I love, maintain my responsibilities for the things I have to do and balance life between it all.

But first I have to try to pull myself together because there is no logical reason why I am falling apart.

Until next time...

Easter Joy and then Some

This past weekend was Easter Weekend. Prior to this epic weekend was Holy Week, a week of religious ceremonies that I've come to hold very near and dear to my heart since Freshman year of college. Its the four days a year when I feel like I can be overly Catholic with reckless abandon. I feel happier, a sense of Catholic pride, and I'm reminded of when I was confirmed during my freshman year.

This Easter I chose to spend this meaningful time with the Sisters of the Holy Redeemer. I don't know too many people who would be excited to spend Easter with a bunch of Catholic nuns, but these wonderful Sisters are like family to me. Since my parents are all the way in Virginia, and I took my GRE for grad school on Saturday so we couldn't arrange a visit, the Sisters were the next best thing to family. I got to spend time with some of my favorite people, sleep in my old room where I lived for a year during my RMC service year, and just enjoy life.

I love being transplanted. For example, when I'm home on the Eastern Shore of Virginia, I'm suddenly reminded of my roots. I remember fishing out in the bay or eating fried chicken and drinking beer on Cedar Island. I remember catching crabs off the local dock and working as a waitress at the local nursing home. I remember the simplicity of life and the large and elaborate dreams I once had.

The same goes for spending a night in the convent I once lived in. I was transplanted. I remember the joy I felt when asked to do a reading at mass. I could recall how excited I was to start my RMC year. I remember sitting in the chapel, writing in my orange notebook, trying to "discern" what ministry was right for me. I remember sitting in the living room of the convent, going over my expectations for my year of service, simple living and prayer. I remember my interview, when I pranced around the dining room as if I knew all the Sisters my whole life instead of just meeting them for the first time.

The realizations that came to light over this weekend of being transplanted were actually not of any religious nature. I forgot how much I loved nature, quiet and being outside. The Sisters mother house sits on acres and acres of land, with green trees and beautiful rolling fields. Its amazing. When I went to bed on Saturday night I was amazed at how quiet everything was. I forgot how quiet the suburbs were compared to my street corner in the heart of Philadelphia.

I also forgot how much I missed journaling. Lately I've been writing for everyone except myself. I miss nature, I miss writing, I miss quiet moments of meditation, and I miss not having anything to do. I miss having a choice about what activity to do instead of feeling obligated to do laundry, clean my apartment, go to some event or write for others.

And its sounds conceited, but at times we all need to hear from other people just how special we are. This weekend was full of praise and compliments on my reading, my existence, my writing, and my sense of humor. Sometimes we just need to get knocked over by the wave of accolades in order to remember that we are special and we have a lot to offer to the world.

So today, on Easter Monday, I have a bit of an inner peace. I'm done with obligations for awhile and am really going to try to find more time for myself and my personal writing. I'm going to bike along the river and try to explore some local parks. I'm going to do the things I missed and enjoy the things I loved. I'm going to live in the present.

I'm at peace today. I hope its sticks around because its a great feeling.

Until next time...

Things that go bump in the....Ipod!

There are very few things that I'm actually scared of. The list includes the following random fears:
* fear of climbing up things like trees, rock walls, stools..etc without something to support myself on for balance. (Pretty much scared of scaling heights)

* crickets: don't mind the sound they make but I freak out if I see one

* Getting burned: prefer those lighters with the long rod at the end. Hate lighting candles with matches or a regular lighter

* and the latest....playing Call of Duty Black Ops, World at War: Zombies on my Ipod Touch!

I had played this game before with a friend about a year and a half ago and loved it! I'm horrible at video games since I grew up playing computer games from Donkey Kong to Mega Race to Forever Growing Gardens and eventually the original Sim City. However, I enjoyed the one time I played this epic zombie shooting game and was beyond excited to download it to my new Ipod Touch.

Until I tried to play it...The music is creeptastic and the field of vision on the Ipod is very limited. So you're frantically trying to touch screen your way around the map, hoping that the zombies are not behind you...which they totally are all the time. The first time I played it on my Ipod, I lost in about 1 minute. As the zombie killed me I literally GASPED in surprise! Then I laughed at being scared, pressed restart, and go so wigged out that I had to stop playing. Granted, I was alone and it was late at night. But still, a video game? Come on!

I hope I get better and get over my fear of creepy video game zombies. :) Just thought you could use some amusement for the day. As a side note, I had a very productive weekend which included doing some maintainence on my bike, grocery shopping, two loads of laundry, cleaning the apartment, studying for the GRE and more! I feel accomplished.

Now, if only I could destroy those zombies.

Until next time...

Its not a Diet, Its a Lifestyle Change/How I Became Vegan for a Week

About two weeks ago, I went to the Art of Wellness in the Bella Vista section of Philadelphia to get a massage. I'm addicted to websites such as "living social, deal yo, and eversave" so I scored a very cheap one hour massage through the online discounts. While in their very nice and relaxing lobby, a staff member gave me a tour and told me about their weight management program. I was interested, I've been wanting to "manage" my weight for awhile. I could definetly use the support of a weekly group, fitness coach and a weight loss plan that didn't involve pre packaged meals, shakes, or a sure fire failure when you're done with the diet.

So after an overview of the Transitions Lifestyle System, I decided to do it. I decided to drop the dough (literally and figurativly) and invest in a weight management program that has the potential to change my life. The first portion of the "diet" involves a 7 day detox. This is..well..intense.

Basically you're Vegan for 7 days. However, you're like super restricted vegan. No nuts, no tofu, no bread (even whole grain), nothing to drink except water and herbal decaffinated tea. In addition to consuming nothing but 3 servings of fruit and unlimited vegetables, you also take a Fiber clensing kit thing. So in the morning I take two capsules that look like they have microbes on them and drink a glass of water with this fiber powder in mixed in. The fiber powder tastes delicious. In the evenings I take four supplements before bedtime.

Honestly, with each day its gotten easier. My first day I was craving carbs like crazy. On day two I went to work. Of course this day was the day the bread truck donates tons of pastries to my workplace for our residents. The stupid shelving unit with the bread is set up on the hallway to my office. So I had to smell that delicious bread all day. On top of that, my boss had leftover hot dogs to share with the staff in honor of the Phillies season opener. Hot dogs are by far one of my favorite foods. Needless to say, day 1 and 2 were very hard.

But today I'm on day 4 and I'm fine. My co-workers have been pretty supportive to. Today when I went to get my lunch there was a big platter of brownies on the table. My boss saw me look at them and covered them up. haha Plus apparently several co-workers are eating healthier because of me. They're not going full jungle vegan but they are eating more vegetables.

Once I get through this week, I'm able to incorporate some protien into my system. I'll be able to eat chicken, fish, and other lean meats into my diet. I'll still be eating vegetables as if they're going out of style but it will be worth it. The hardest part is the 6 week pasta/grain/bread fast. I can't have any pasta, breads, grains, nuts, cakes, or any kind of pastries for 6 weeks. This is to change my need for carbs and even my taste for them. I guess if I can get through one week eating nothing but fruits and vegetables, I can do anything.

I've already lost almost 5lbs. I'm pretty sure its just water weight. I do feel cleaner and even more energized. Maybe it is all in my head, but I feel a lot healthier, empty (in a good way), clean, and peppy.

The program lasts 12 weeks. I'd like to see a siginificant change by then. I won't make it in time for bathing suit season to try on that bikini, but at least I won't ooze out of my plus size swimsuit as much. :)

It's not a diet, its a lifestyle change.

Until next time...

Spring, Where are you? / What's with the noose?

Why hello, it has been a while. I haven't dropped off the face of the earth or anything, just been hiding in a busy corner of it. The past few weeks have went by in a blur of illness, major events for work, and a slow yet growing social life.

Highlights have been a successful academic awards ceremony for the kids at work, a highly attended book fair for work (my brainchild) and an epically successful major fundraiser that I sold my soul to (at least for the night).

So there are two major things on my mind. I really want to be like Peter Griffin from Family Guy and say, "You know what really grinds my gears?" Well, I'm frustrated that it is March 30th and the weather is still cold as shit. Ok well literally, shit is not cold, but I'm unhappy. I was hoping to retire my winter coat days ago. Now, they're predicting a Nor'Eastern with snow and crap this weekend. WHY??? This winter started early, is lasting forever, and is horrible. I know I sound like a whiney brat, but I am so sick of the cold weather and ready to break out the flippy floppies and t-shirts. In fact, on the four warm days we had, I did just that. My fellow Philadelphians thought I was crazy and they stared at my exposed feet while wrapping their heavy jacket around their body out of habit. I knew what I was doing, I was milking the warm weather for what it was worth.

Second thing. So today I'm on the EL, commuting to work, late, and this guy gets on the train car that I'm on. He's wearing a big green trench coat, and a variety of other clothes. I figure by the look of him, he might be really poor or homeless. I don't judge so I just sat there minding my business. He took a sip of something from his water bottle and then took off his jacket. He reached into his bookbag and pulled out a rope. Then he stood in front of us, the confused passengers. I figured he could be an old navy vet or something and would demonstrate how to tie knots in exchange for money. Its not a crazy idea, I've seen the evangelists, the people preaching the world will end soon, trumpeters, drum lines, break dancers, acrobats and just about everyone out in the streets of Philly trying to earn some money. Then you have your "hungry please help" people, handicapped people with cups, and the occasional, "do you have a quarter, $1, $5, anything?"

So I'm sitting on the EL, wondering why this guy has a rope, and then see its actually a noose. A feeling of awkward and discomfort started to come over me. The woman sitting across from me got up and either left the EL or changed seats. The people behind the man were oblivious to his...awkward display. I sat there, wanting to move but also trying to figure out what's with the noose?

I thought of the practicality of hanging yourself in a SEPTA EL car. He was tall, it wouldn't work. Plus, his rope wasn't that thick. It would probably snap if he tried something crazy. Maybe he was an exhibitioner, or and old member of the modern day Black Panthers that hold rallies outside the convention center requesting all black men to find Jesus, become better husbands and sons, and overcome the adversity of the majority. Or perhaps he'd whip out a sign that read "hung out to dry, need food and money" and the noose was there to prove a point.

He also had a fanny pack in addition to his bookbag and I didn't want to think what could possibly be in there. Thankfully my stop came before I could figure it out. I might never know what he was doing in that EL car unless it makes the news. I know I was uncomfortable and for the first time, really alarmed by a "strange person." There are tons of reasons as to why he had a noose draped over his shoulders. Right? I guess we'll never know.

Until next time...

Relaxation Fail

So last night, after a particularly not so great day, I decided I was going to take a nice hot bath. I really wanted the relaxation experience so I lit candles, put on classical music and poured myself a glass of wine. Now, I have never taken a bath in my bathtub in the apartment but it looked a lot larger than most bathtubs I have been in. So I figured I'd fit nicely in it and maybe have to bend my knees for ideal soaking comfort.

The problem is, I don't have a plug for my drain. I decided to use a coffee cup because it turned out to be the perfect size to cover the drain hole. I began to fill the tub and put a whole bunch of bath salts, bubble bath mix and even one of those gel bath balls. The tub filled up with hot steamy and bubbly water.

I stopped the water after the tub was a little over half full. I figured my body would cause the water levels to increase significantly. So I turned the lights off, put the candles on the ledge of the the tub, and stepped in.

The heat from the water felt awesome on my feet. As I submerged myself into the tub I realized I could use some more water. I turned on the faucet and alas, nothing but cold water came out. I had used up all the hot water! Giving up on that, I tried to lay back in the tub, bending my knees so the water would cover my stomach and chest. Well, this failed for obvious obesity reasons.

While lying in this awkward position I heard the faint sound of water draining. It was then when I realized that my coffee mug was not sufficently blocking the water drain. So I ended up sitting in the tub with water barely covering my legs until there was no water. I then got up and took a cold shower since I had used all the hot water.

After my cold shower, I blew out my relaxation candles, chugged my glass of wine, proceeded to watch my fish swim around for a half hour, and then decided it would be a great idea to read the cards from the Cranium game. I tested myself to see if I knew all the Humdinger songs. Then I pulled down my high school journal.

While reading my high school journal I was embarassed. One, because the writing is AWFUL. It screams hormonal teenager who can't write for crap. (I've improved in my writing so much by now) Two, because I did some really stupid and embarassing crap in high school that unfortunatly I still do today. I found a quote that I think I came up with on my own. It read:

"Don't make someone your world only to become their option."

Wow. If I wrote that, that is the most profound thing I have ever said! Words to live by.

So tonight I'm not going to try any cool relaxation technique. I'm going to get off work late, go home, watch Grey's Anatomy and go to bed early. I can relax in my sleep.

Until next time...