No Title (But Wait, That's A Title.)

Sometimes, I just wish I were somebody else entirely. That's all.

Skinny B#@$%!

Okay, one thing I cannot stand at all is when boys (yes, usually gay boys) refer to themselves as bitches. Seriously. You were born with testosterone producing glands, so act like it. But I am just this once, going to aspire to become just that: A skinny bitch. Jen told me about this book, Skinny Bitch, a week or so ago, but she never told me what it was about. I just assumed it was another Confessions of a Shopaholic type book. Then, Adam told me that he was transitioning from being a vegetarian to a strict vegan because of a book he read called Skinny Bitch. He told me that if I read it, I would love it, and it would change the way I looked at food and health forever.

Well, I bought it last night, and finished it today. The verdict? Well, I just sent off for my free Vegetarian Starter Kit from www.goveg.com, and I made it a goal to cut out chicken, beef, and pork from my diet. I don't eat much meat anyway, so I don't think it'll be too hard to do, however; I am taking baby steps and not quite eliminating fish and eggs yet. I am teetering on eradicating dairy as well. Oh, gosh. How would I live without cheese? I tend to fart and get bloated quite a bit when I drink milk, so switching to soy products might be a blessing. Ooh, and I love soy milk! Oh, yeah, and besides producing a lot of interesting and disturbing information, the book posed a question that would stump even Einstein: Who decided to use cows for our milking habits?

Hopefully, with this change in my diet and my already vigorous exercise routine, I'll be a sexy male specimen in no time (still mindful of at least one of my New Year's resolutions! Ha ha!).

Hey, Martha! Mimi's Has The Best Corn Chowder!

I've been a slacker at this blog thing lately. Just a little recap since the surgery: I recovered for a couple days and then I've just been working at Mimi's. By the way, if I had blogged at all in these past few days, I'm sure it would all be about how much I hate the Mimi's here, and how much I miss the peeps in Orem. No, seriously. I hate it. Who told all the snowbirds in Arizona that they should go to Mimi's for their cup 'o corn chowder? And why does every single one of them insist on asking me how tall I am? Trust me, I get at least five or so clever comments from these old timers a day. Comments like, "Is it true heat rises?" or "Weren't you just drafted to the Suns?" No, sir. Actually, I'm not seven feet tall, I hate basketball, and I'm also dating your grandson. Heart attack. (Thank you, that needed to come out and it's better it came out in written form.) To their credit, I have had a few really sweet elderly guests since I've been here...

Also, if I had blogged I'm sure there would've been just a little "heart" angst in there too, but not too much. I've been dealing with that through music therapy. And lately, the man who can communicate every feeling I have been feeling through music and lyrics, is good ol' Ray. Ray LaMontagne. He is amazing and I highly suggest that anyone who enjoys good talent to get on iTunes right now and download his CD "Till The Sun Turns Black." My personal favorite is "Lesson Learned," but they are all equally good. I'm leaving you with a clip of him performing "Empty." Enjoy!

Goodbye, Tumey.

I finally had the tumor, Jeremy so lovingly named Tumey, removed from my back. I am so glad to have it gone. The surgery went well, except for it was a little bigger and deeper than anticipated, and at one point I could feel the slicing of fibers that held it to the ligament near my spine because it wasn't numbed deep enough. It hurt so bad I nearly jumped off the table. Other than that, it went swimmingly. I did ask to keep little Tumey, so I could take a picture, but I just realized how disgusting and weird that really is, and I'm sure I'll throw it away soon. But, cheers to no more sleeping sitting up, no more back aches, and hopefully fewer headaches.

Luke's A Big Boy!

I'm Holding On Your Rope...

... and I'm ten feet off the ground.

Happy Belated New Year!

It's now the seventh of January, and I have not even thought of what my New Year's resolutions are going to be. It seems like I am always resolving to do something better all year long. Not really a good thing though, as it means I rarely complete or attain anything. But, nonetheless, I still try.

I think this year, I'd like to get into shape. I mean, get a rock hard body complete with bulging biceps and washboard abs. I talked briefly about training to be a UFC fighter, but have since scratched that idea. I remember before I started school more than two years ago, I was a die hard health nut. I felt so good back then. There's nothing like having that ache in your muscles from having worked a particular body part to the bone. And, no, that was not dirty.

Being a kinder person ranks high on my list. I used to be so attentive to other people's feelings, and I'm not so much anymore. I mean, sure, I still cry every time I see Extreme Makeover: Home Edition, but that's not the same. I was the one that would hold the door open for strangers, call my cashier by name, and give every homeless person I saw money or food. I want to participate in those little actions that make the world a little better to live in. I want to feel empathy and compassion.

I want to love myself. I have spent my entire life struggling with this one. I think so many people do. I want to be able to know that I do the best I can, and other people's validation is not necessary to make me feel valuable as a person. I want to be able to say what I want, dress how I want, sing when I want, dance when I want, yell when I want, cry when I want, and know that I am fabulous no matter what anyone else might say. It's easy to fall in love with another person, but it's the hardest thing to fall in love with yourself. The sad thing is that if you don't love the latter you can't truly love anyone else. The companion to this, is the desire to help others love themselves as well. So many of my friends/family members fail to see the gifts, beauty, and potential they possess. I could to a lot better at telling them.

I told a friend of mine recently that she needs to remove all the things in her life that keep her from being truly happy or experiencing joy. I highly doubt that anyone would knowingly take a daily dose of Strychnine and expect to feel good. Why, then, do we allow other things that are poison to negatively affect our lives? This could be foods and drinks, volatile relationships, types of media, defeating thoughts, etc. Anything that has a negative affect, don't do it! D@*# the vices! It's so much easier said than done! So, this is what I'll do: I am going to choose three things that affect me negatively -two easy things, and one difficult, and I am going to purge them from my life.

The truth of the matter is that we are all capable of doing a little better. We are capable because we truly are fabulous. Or as my quote below put it: We are all crazy good in one way or another. This is everyone's best year. I can feel it! The future is bright, and it glitters with opportunity. Opportunities to experience life, make memories with friends and family, and just love, love, love!

There IS An Arizona... And It's 75 Degrees!

Well, I made it here safely. It's good to be here. Though I miss everyone terribly, I believe it was the right decision. At random moments throughout the day, different people will cross my mind for different reasons, and it makes me a little homesick. I also have a few dear friends who have major changes/trials going on in their lives. I wish I could be closer to them so that I could be more supportive, but I have every bit of faith and confidence in their strength, and I know they'll be okay.

On my way here, I stopped at the edge of Flagstaff, Arizona to get some gas. Mom called me right as I pulled up to the pump. I went into the gas station to prepay, got back into my car, and drove away. I was driving through town, just jabbering away with my mom, and my car began to sputter. I looked down at my fuel gage and the low fuel light was on, and the meter still measured empty. I thought to myself, "That's really weird, I just put gas into my car." Then I realized, I hadn't put any gas in my car. I slipped the attendant thirty dollars, and then sped away. I ended up pumping gas at another station, and then returned to the other station to explain my stupidity, and hopefully get my money refunded. It took a few minutes to figure it out, and after waiting for the manager's approval, I was on my way.

It gets better though. After I made it to Mesa and was settled, my mom sent me to the grocery store to get a loaf of french bread to go with dinner. I went into the store, paid for the bread, got out to my car and realized that I didn't grab the stinking bag off the counter! I was too embarrassed to go back in, especially for a measly baguette, so I drove to another grocery store a few blocks away to pick up another loaf. I definitely was having problems yesterday. Probably fatigue and stress. Ha ha!

I'm staying with my mom until I get settled with a job and have a little more money for an apartment. It's nice to have all those little perks back that so often are taken for granted. You know the ones: having a washer and dryer at your disposal, food in the fridge, homemade meals cooked, and someone who does the dishes. It's like I'm staying at the Hilton (or Kacee's)!

I'm getting ready to go to bed now, and there is a tinge of sadness emerging. I'm not used to it, and I don't like sleeping alone. I'm scared to meet new people. I'm also scared to go to the gym tomorrow. It's been too long, and my body is gross. I think the first time going back to the gym ranks just as high as public speaking on my list of things I fear. Oh, gosh! Not that high, but it's close. Plus, I think I've damaged my heart with all the pain pills I've taken recently, and the moment I get on the treadmill, my heart's just going to explode. Ha ha!

Anyways, I'm hitting the hay. I woke up early this morning, helped clean Mom's studio for eight hours, played nine games of Sequence between three mealtimes, and watched Lord of the Rings. Goodnight!

Party Like A Moxstar.

Okay, someone out there (one of the three of you who look at my blog) is wondering what is a "moxstar"? First, let me start off by giving you the definition of the word moxie. It actually is a word, in the dictionary. I'd never heard of this word until Christmas, when I got a small book of quotes about it from my mom. This is how the dictionary defines it:

mox·ie [mok-see]
–noun Slang.
1. vigor; verve; pep.
2. courage and aggressiveness; nerve.
3. skill; know-how.

This how my little book defines it:

"Moxie. It's a street-smart spirit that's as old as recorded history, and as new as the rising sun. David had it; Goliath didn't. It's that intagible tangible. You don't learn it in school and you can't get it from a book. It can jump oceans and move mountains. It says, "Make your life what it can be. Take your life wherever it can go."

I came up with this little word "moxstar" while driving around town with my mom over Christmas, and it makes me smile everytime I say it. I love moxie, and I want more of it. So I say, "Get addicted to moxie. Live your life like you are a moxstar." Why not, huh?