The Truth About Blogging

So I started this blog with the greatest intentions. I really do enjoy it, but I've been so busy with other things lately. It takes more time than I realized to put together a section, then edit and proofread so no one thinks that you actually really don't know how to spel.

Anyway, I have had a lot of thoughts lately about things I want to discuss with both of my readers. :) Politics, work, my four year old, dating and blah, blah, blah.

I will make this quick but I must say that work is kicking my behind harder than ever before. Three and four hours a day on Dallas North is rough. My trainer, Kenny, told me today that he's declaring Friday's "pro day." That's where we just get currency on other positions and don't train. We both need a break. It sucks. It's a helluva lot harder than it looks. The level of complication and complexity is nearly painful. My head just spins and I can't hardly see straight at the end of the day. Tonight, it's going to be the gym and a stiff drink, again. So let's just cross our fingers that my key-card still works in the morning. I'll try not to neglect this, because it is fun, for too much longer.

So Tell Me the Truth...

Some of you may or may not know anything about my personal life, this is, again, assuming that someone reads this. I have no intention of actually dropping any of the juicy details, except to say that I started seeing a counselor. It's mainly just to deal with one area of my life. Not crazy, just conflicted and quite possibly confused. At the going rate of $100/hour, hopefully we can straighten this out quickly.

It was the oddest experience though. I've never even seen this woman before. I walked in, sat down, she introduced herself and I did the same. I then proceeded to drop the Cliffs Notes version of my dilemma and waited like a nervous school girl for the principal's reaction. This is something that I don't talk to other people about and I just blabbed on and on about extremely personal and private issues to a total stranger.

Could she help me? Would she laugh at me? Is she really going to keep this stuff confidential? On a scale of 1 to 10, how crazy am I, compared to others who walk in here? Did she really want to cringe? Was that your actual reaction or the generic one you save for the really bad cases? Do you think I'm a moron? Are you saying you can help me because you can or because you know I'm about to drop a lot of cash on this "experience"? Is that why you complimented me on my shoes?

I have been thinking about what this woman does for a living, as I wrote her what will probably be the first of many checks. What an easy way to make a living, right? Sit on the couch and listen to other people bitch. Then ask them about it and help them help themselves. Problem solved! I am clearly in the wrong line of work. Right?

Surely it must be a little depressing though. I know a lot of people have experienced horrors that make my trip to the counselor seem silly and frivolous. Maybe listening to traumatic experiences of others makes her feel better about her own life. All I know is that for $100 an hour, I would listen to a lot of crap, too.

--A

The Truth About Holidays

Happy 4th of July!!

I love this holiday. I remember so many 4th's when I was younger. There was the one where our friend Rebecca lit her shirt on fire with a misfiring Roman candle. Or the one where Charles got attacked by hornets. Ahh...the memories.

In honor of the occasion, I will be working to collect my holiday pay. I bet the FAA has their best attendance ever on holidays. Being that today is a Sunday as well, I would be losing hundreds of dollars to go enjoy hot dogs and sit in traffic. I really want a new dishwasher far worse than mesquito bites and more adventures in avoiding drunken drivers. Besides, one benefit to my career is going up the tower after sunset and watching every fireworks display in the DFW metroplex. It really is neat. About 15 stories up with not a high building around.

I probably won't be making an entry tomorrow, not that I'm sure anyone is reading this. I have to work this evening with an 8 hour break and then Monday during the day. Monday nights are a big deal for me too. Hot yoga is on Monday nights. Ohhh yeaaaa.

I love hot yoga. I tried some yoga in Japan after a foot injury and never really did anymore of it, mostly due to the whole single mom thing. That was until January when I joined a gym (another one of those 20 or so resolutions) and started going. I liked the regular yoga classes pretty well, but then a friend of mine convinced me to try Bikram Hot Yoga. My life has never been the same.

The thing about yoga is that it can seem intimidating. When you see yoga stuff, you think hot women with perfect bodies twisted up like some freak contortionistic hell dance. Real yoga classes are nothing like that. I love it because there is ALWAYS someone fatter, less flexible and more out of shape than me.

They turn the room up to 105 degrees with added humidity, and you sweat sooooooooo much that seemingly every ounce of tequila consumed during the weekend prior leaves my body in a hurry. My pores, oh my pores, feel so young and fresh after it's over. I don't think I've ever lost less than 4 pounds on the spot. And there is one more thing that keeps my attendance near perfect...hot Army guy. I don't even know his name, but I always try and get a spot close too or at least with a good view of hot Army guy. He's always wearing Army shorts and bringing comic relief to the oft awkwardness of bending your sweaty ass straight in the air in an extremely close proximity to total strangers. If he ever stops attending, I would probably still go, but he would be sorely missed. I look forward to seeing his sweating biceps in a tree pose all week.

So you now understand why there will be no more posting until Tuesday at the earliest.

--A

The Truth About Dirty Laundry

Last New Year's Eve, at the dawning of the new decade, I made a list. It was a list of about twenty resolutions. Some were obviously repeats from 2009, some were new. I promised myself that this year would be great (though 2009 wasn't bad) and I would work very hard to continually improve. All of the resolutions were geared toward self improvement. Some were very clear and specific goals and some were more vague.

One thing that I vowed to do was keep a journal. It's something I've done off and on throughout my adult life. Writing helps me contend with and air out my personal grievances. I purchased a nice leather journal and was doing very well with it.

Then, in March, my grandmother died. I sat on the couch in her living room and watched on the big, flat screen television as my Aunt literally went through every inbox, outbox, saved, folder, etc in my Grandma's e-mail in front of the family. My Aunt meant well, and being 89, my Grandma surely would have deleted any proverbial dirty laundry in anticipation of the inevitable, but this was a huge eye opener for me.

I came home and immediately took note of all of my proverbial dirty laundry lying around. I went through my e-mail accounts and stewed over what to do about my journal. Like a 15 year old girl, I would just die if anyone ever read it. So into the shredder the journal went and I moved my adventures in self-absorbed rambling online. That way all of my personal crap will go straight to my password-protected grave with me.

I've really taken advantage of the never-ending free space available online for my typing pleasures. In keeping with my resolution, I've bitched and moaned regularly to no one on my blog but me at least thrice weekly. I've enjoyed it so much, that I have decided to start rambling publicly in addition to my too-juicy-for-anyone-else's-eyes-but-mine blog.

So we'll see how it goes...