Writers and characters

Tonight I watched "Starting Out in the Evening," an interesting movie that explores passion, freedom, and what seems to be turning into the lost art of appreciation for the written word. This movie was so complex that I found myself getting lost in all the layers of meaning and symbolism, but in the greatest way. The only thing I didn't like about it was the subplot about the main character's daughter and her boyfriend. Otherwise, a phenomenal movie. Lauren Ambrose plays "Heather Wolfe," a graduate student who is in awe of her literary hero ("Leonard Schiller") and seeks him out in hopes he will participate in contributing to her master's thesis: a closer look at the man behind the older, more famous novels from years ago. Schiller has been working on the same novel for 10 years prior to Heather showing up at his door, his life seemingly as stale as his current writing project. Though the age difference between the two creates awkward and uncomfortable moments for both characters at times, they still manage to challenge each other's intellectual acumen and emotional vulnerabilities. It's done in such a way that isn't contrived, but genuine with refreshingly honest dialogue to match.

I could appreciate this film because it seemed to combine and explore two of my favorite passions in life, psychology/reflection and writing. I found myself identifying with bits and pieces of both Ambrose' character, as well as Schiller and Schiller's daughter. Usually I only tend to identify with characters in books because the character development is lacking the substantial depth to really get into a character's mind and heart.

But I could empathize with those in "Starting Out in the Evening" because they mirrored parts of myself here and there:

Heather Wolfe's desire for both a cerebral and emotional connection ("Men my age are like chewing gum; ten minutes of flavor, and then just bland repetition.")

Leonard Schiller's passion (and muse) for writing that gives meaning to his life and the conflicts he battles within himself to live his convictions ("Freedom isn't the choice the world encourages. You have to wear a suit of armor to defend it. ")

And even though the subplot juxtaposed with the main plot could have either been done better or not done at all, I liked how Schiller's 40 year old daughter Ariel attempts to make changes to her dysfunctional relationship patterns.

The character development isn't the only thing that separates this movie from others similar to its kind out there. The overall theme of the film honors the power of the written word--- the thoughts, feelings, and impact writers have on those who loyally read and appreciate the message. To read a novel/intimate writing...is like soaking up someone's innermost self like a sponge and yet, you always want more. Or at least that is my hope. Schiller even says something I have wondered myself. Heather asks him if he's concerned whether people will still be reading his novel in 100 years. His concern is whether people will even be reading novels in 100 years. Sadly, therein his statement is truth of the times. For now though, I'd just like to be inspired by this movie's story.

Synchronicity

Synchronicity: A non-causal connection between two or more various phenomena (psychic and/or physical). --Psychologist Carl Jung

Or in simpler language: a meaningful coincidence.

When I reflect on the idea of synchronicity, I am grateful for the impact it has had on my life, particularly in regard to friendships over the years. Some of my best and/or most interesting friendships have been the result of synchronicity:

How I met and became friends with Nicole: Back in 1998 I think, I went to Mardi Gras with this girl Tiffani. We went with a group of people, Nicole being one of those people. Never thought I'd see the girl again. One summer semester a year later after I had transferred to Southwest Texas State, I walk into a self defense/karate class. Who was sitting there? Nicole! She became my best friend in college. :)

How I became friends with Melissa: I was at Friar Tuck one night with my friend Paul. I think I went to the bar to get another drink and he was talking to two women. He introduced me to them and I chatted a bit with Melissa and her sister-in-law at the time (Mary). She had just moved to Chicago from Florida and turned out she lived just 5 minutes away from me. We exchanged phone numbers, as she was new and wanting to meet people/make friends. I didn't think I'd hear from her, but she called me later that week. I thought she was (and still is) an interesting and generous friend. Interestingly, I'm not friends with Paul anymore; he turned out to be an asshole. But if it weren't for him, Melissa and I never would have met!

Then there's Rajiv: I had been friends with this older guy Mark for about six months. One night he invited me and his friend Rajiv over to watch a movie. Rajiv and I 'clicked' right away. My friendship with Rajiv stuck, while both Rajiv and I's friendship with Mark didn't. Again, never would have met and had such a wonderful friendship with Rajiv if Mark didn't bring us together that one movie night!

Then there are those that have spontaneously 'found' me online or through another friend: Ricky (via my "Follow Your Bliss" blog), Palo (via Tracy telling him about my blog/writing), Josh (via our mutual friend Brandon), Sara (via Johnny/The Dimes) and the list goes on

....interesting people I wouldn't have gotten to know if it weren't for good ole' synchronicity at play. :)

Celebration

What is the importance of celebration in your life? Why do you choose to celebrate something? Is there enough celebration in your world? Or too much?

Celebration is incredibly important, yet I don't think there's enough of it. Celebration gives us something to look forward to, a reason to feel loved and appreciated. Maybe if there were more celebration in people's lives, the world would be a friendlier and happier place. Sure, there's celebrations for the status quo kinds of things like weddings, graduations, baby showers, and the like. But what about celebration for just being who you are? Celebration is about acceptance and joy; it shouldn't be about circumstances.

It reminds me of an episode of "Sex and the City." Carrie had this friend who was married and had children. Carrie went to her friend's party and when she arrived, the friend asked her to take off her really nice shoes. Reluctant but respectful, Carrie acquiesced. When it was time for her to leave, Carrie noticed her shoes were missing. Although just shoes, they were 'her thing,' something that gave her joy. Carrie's friend didn't seem to care that Carrie's shoes were missing. Carrie politely asked to be reimbursed for the missing shoes and the friend was irate. Carrie pointed out how many celebrations she has willingly and happily attended in the friend's life and wondered why the friend could not honor HER. Carrie sent her friend an invitation to "A wedding/marriage to myself." She let her friend know that if she couldn't attend the 'wedding,' she was 'registered' for gifts at the same store where she had bought the shoes that went missing. Carrie got a new pair of the same missing shoes from her friend.

I remember that episode from time to time when I'm feeling sad and in need of celebration. Oddly, it gives me comfort and a sense of empowerment to create more celebration in my life, no matter how small. It sounds funny, maybe even petty....but just remember how you feel when you're in need of a little celebration in your life. :)

Seattle Freeze

Has anyone heard of this? http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/pacificnw/2005/0213/cover.html

Weird. I had not heard of it until I had already moved here. I certainly hope I don't experience this, even with the help of social networking/meet up group activities....

Mundanely pleasant

Ever have a day that for whatever reason, is just a really pleasant day in all its mundane glory? I'm sure you have. Today was one such day for me.

I had the best 8 hours of sleep last night that I've probably had in the whole time I've been here in Seattle and woke up this morning feeling totally refreshed. Bright sunshine coming in through the windows, I opened my eyes and noticed it was only 7:30am....yet, I was ready to jump out of bed! Sunday while on a walk with my mom, I found I liked the route with all its hills and other natural splendors. I went for another hour long walk on the same route on Monday as well as this morning.

Maybe it's fun because to me the route is kinda like a maze: I walk about a block, make a left that slightly curves around on a dead end street veering into another street. I come upon a slightly ajar fence that leads into a moderately big apartment complex parking lot, cut through there, exiting the complex onto another street. Walk to the end of that street. Turn right, walk on the sidewalk of another street for half a block, cross the street and turn onto a paved airport parking lot exit from high up on the hill so that I'm walking down a steep slope. There is a grassy marsh/hill to the left that sounds like it has a mini brook of water running, which is very relaxing to walk beside. I cut across the vast parking lot, walk a little uphill to exit the lot. Take a left onto SeaTac Intn'l Blvd where the airport and all the hotels are located (naturally, I think of my friend Carol when I think of hotels....I miss that lady so much!). I walk straight for 2 blocks and turn left onto 188th Ave and stay on that street for about 10 or 15 minutes, which is an uphill slope a majority of the time. I then turn left onto my mom's street and walk half a block.

What I loved most about my walk was listening and looking at all the beauty around me. I love looking at all the colorful flowers and trees, especially the huge cherry blossom trees; they're everywhere! I've also decided tulips are my new favorite flower. I never really noticed the elegance of tulips before. I'm not sure if it's because I see them more than I ever have prior to my move to Washington, but regardless, my eyes enjoy looking at them. :) I listen to a little bird chirping above me on the telephone pole wire. I see and hear more than one airplane taking off in the blue sky in front of me. It reminds me of how excited I feel when I'm on a plane, about to see someone I haven't seen in a long time. Or going to a fun destination in hopes of great adventure.

I'm also reminded of how much walking helps me to do two paradoxical things: to think AND not to think. How amazing it is when your mind lets you do both at random times, giving a comforting and much needed balance between problem solving and calm meditativeness. It's funny because I don't have any music to listen to while exercising. At first it was a nuisance, a boredom not to have...but now, I'm starting to enjoy the silence.

After my walk, I decided to make an excursion downtown to see a movie that a friend of mine told me about, "Forgetting Sarah Marshall." What's funny about having watched this movie is that it made me chuckle (in more ways than one), mainly due to the blog I wrote about men not getting naked on screen (See "Private Gender" blog: 4/16/08). In FSM, the main character is completely naked in like three scenes. It was great! Hahaha. And not for reasons you may think, although probably those too. ;) FINALLY it's a man getting naked in a movie, not a woman. Come to think of it, I don't think there were any naked women in the movie. There was a scene where there was a photo collage on a wall in the men's bathroom where women are flashing the camera, but I don't think that really counts. All bodily exposure aside (hahaha), I enjoyed the movie. I definitely recommend it to my friends!

My mom also gave me an ivy plant that she bought tonight, so I have a plant to take care of again; yay! I'm becoming such a domesticated nerd. :)

Ok, it's 11:30 pm. Time to go to bed soon and hopefully have another mundanely pleasant day tomorrow....

When are you (really) an 'adult?'

(photo and quotes from "Lars and the Real Girl")

Lars Lindstrom:I was talking to Bianca, and she was saying that in her culture they have these rites of passages and rituals and cermonies, and, just all kinds of things that, when you do them, go through them, let you know that you're an adult? Doesn't that sound great?
Gus: It does.
Lars Lindstrom: How'd you know?
Gus: How'd I know what?
Lars Lindstrom: That you were a man.
Gus: Ahhh. I couldn't tell ya.
Lars Lindstrom: Was it... okay, was it sex?
Gus: Um. Yeah, yeah, yeah, it's uh, yeah, yeah it's kind of - it's uh - no. Well, it's kind of sex but it's not uh, you know? I don't know. I don't know. It's - uh - good question, good question.
Lars Lindstrom: Yeah, but I have to know.
Gus: [dryer buzzes] Hold that thought.
Gus: [in basement] You know, you should ask Dagmar.
Lars Lindstrom: I did ask Dagmar. And she said that I should ask you.
Gus: Okay, you know I can only give you my opinion.
Lars Lindstrom: That's what we want.
Gus: Well, it's not like you're one thing or the other, okay? There's still a kid inside but you grow up when you decide to do right, okay, and not what's right for you, what's right for everybody, even when it hurts.
Lars Lindstrom: Okay, like what?
Gus: Like, you know, like, you don't jerk people around, you know, and you don't cheat on your woman, and you take care of your family, you know, and you admit when you're wrong, or you try to, anyways. That's all I can think of, you know - it sound like it's easy and for some reason it's not.
____________________________________________________________________

I watched this movie the other day. Although it was odd, the above conversation really struck a chord with me. I like Gus' idea of when you really feel like an adult.

Becoming an adult seems different than feeling like one. My mom and I were talking about this today while we were taking a long walk---about parents, family, adulthood. She told me she didn't really feel like an adult until she was 30 years old. "Why?" I asked. It was when she was able to start setting boundaries in her relationship with her mother, my grandmother. She also started doing what she wanted to do, what she most wanted to do with her life.

I was surprised, however, when she went on to say that when she has asked students in a classroom discussion this question ("When are you an adult?" ) she seemed to answer differently.

"I get alot of resistance from students when I ask them. They will say 'Oh, when I'm 35 or 40' and I say 'No, you're an adult when you turn 18."

I turn to my mom quizzically, "Mom, surely you don't believe that psychologically a person is an 'adult' when they turn 18? And I thought you were technically an 'adult' when you're 21, not 18."

"No, that's just for drinking. You can vote at 18 years old." She went on to say that while someone may not feel like an adult at 18, it is at that age that one must learn how to start acting like an adult because mom and dad can't keep bailing you out anytime a problem arises.

I suppose that makes sense. While I certainly had moments where I felt like an adult from 18 years and up, I didn't REALLY feel like an adult until maybe I was 28 years old. Why?

I stopped taking things personally (aka, not everything is about me).

My parents became people (imagine that, they're people too? Who knew! hahaha)with their own thoughts, feelings, lives that I really wanted to know and have a more authentic relationship with. This included forgiving whatever happened in the past and moving on.

I stopped living in the past so much and began focusing on creating my life in the 'present.'

I became not just responsible for myself, but other people....in a big way (my counseling job).

So, if given the chance to be a child again with all there is to learn....I think I'll savor my adulthood. :)

Colors

I thought I would do something a little different today to help inspire some creativity within me, seeing as I feel creatively dehydrated with my writing lately. I want to write, but nothing comes to mind. Maybe this little exercise will help. I got this book last weekend that has different creative writing ideas to help get the flow going.

I just stumbled across this one: Make two lists, one of colors that attract you and one of colors that repel you. Choose a color from each list. Approach each of them from your other senses; how do these colors sound, smell, taste, and what is their texture?

Colors I'm drawn to:
Light aqua blue
Lavendar
Deep valentine red
Forest Green


Colors I'm not so crazy for:
Neon orange
Most shades of yellow
Grey

Light aqua blue reminds me of peace, serenity, pastel colored houses in Seaside, Florida, tastes like a warm comforting cup of Chamomile tea. It sounds like waves of the ocean crashing on a sandy secluded shore. It reminds me of glowing candles burning in my apartment on a lazy afternoon. It says, "No worries" and lets me do whatever will let me be free. It's as soft and salty as a freshly made oversized pretzel. Cool as a cup of frozen yogurt being eaten atop a desolate rooftop. Refreshing as a subtle summer breeze, wisps of stray hairs gently tickling my cheek.

Lavendar is my grandmother Crooker incarnate. Lavendar lilacs in bloom, lavendar incense, an atypical color to associate with a hippie like kind of love. It is a rare and glorious shortlived summer sunset to be savored. It tastes of Cracker Barrel Vermont cheese melted on toast. It looked like a tiny kitchen in Derry in the 1980's and always sounds like Narn's laughter. This color is my legacy.

Deep valentine red looks like my alter ego, but really is my passions. My pulsating heart, my femme fatale wannabe painted fingernails, the wild adventurous woman inside me. The occasional thunderstorm, followed by a rainbow. It is a voyeur of stories and emotional drives. Tastes bitter and smooth like the best of margaritas, exotic like Spanish tapas. Thick and gooey cookie batter, gluttony in disguise.

Forest green is miles of unknown territory, like a picture taken in the middle of nowhere, Michigan on a wintery day of 2007. It is natural, crunchy granola getting stuck against and in between my teeth. It warns everyone to take care of this fragile home of Earth. It can be seen every time there are tornadoes, hurricanes, tsunamis. It looks like running a marathon, sweat dripping down a runner's neck, swallowing a tall glass of cold water. Replenishing, refreshing, reinventing.

Neon orange carpet circa 1970's smells like pot and lacks original thought. It resembles an era marked by disco and psychedelic drugs. Confused, hairy hippie folks and cheesy so called 'horror' films. Neon orange tastes like artificial cheese squirted out of a can, sister to its brother: Spam. It is a lonely old widow's comfort coat, something that makes a person lose all sense of fashion after the age of 60. It feels like long fingernails being scraped down down down the classroom chalkboard. It screams, "Stop torturing me!"

Most shades of yellow is the urine I used to collect at my drug counseling job. Pale yellow indicated more healthy, brighter yellow dehydration and other potential problems. Its stale smell makes me cringe and reminds me of the homeless stinky crazies on the Chicago Red Line L train. Tastes like sunflower seeds scattered across the sticky floors of the CTA. It sounds like a series of non sequiturs when you're just trying to travel without being bothered. A magic eight ball that declares "Outlook very bleak."

Grey is a conformist, neither here nor there. Charcoal, dust, a wasteland of indecision. An actor's happy and gloomy mask, never revealing its true colors or uniqueness. Bloody like a T-Bone steak cooked medium rare, tough trying to cut through the thick layer to get to the real meat of things. "I wear many masks," it likes to say. Initially appealing to those that don't favor black and white, but it feels stuck in the midst. The spines of a fork in any road. A lost highway less interesting than David Lynch.

Last Lecture, Randy Pausch

The Private Gender

Have you ever wondered why we never see a man naked (or even HALF-naked most times) on television and the movies? I'm not talking about pornography; I mean your average Hollywood film or even indie flick. Even cable channels that need not be as readily concerned with potential child viewers, such as Showtime or HBO. I don't say this out of perversion, only flat out curiosity. I have wondered about this from time to time and it's easy to find any kind of rationale I suppose: Men's genitals aren't considered 'beautiful.' Men are more sensitive and vulnerable about exposing themselves because their parts are outside of their body. We live in a patriarchal society, so naturally women's bodies are more objectified than men's. But I could also easily find arguments to shoot loopholes in all those inaccurate assumptions.

Both men and women have functional body parts. If it is argued that we can display a woman's breasts because technically they are 'mammary glands' (which, let's face it folks...when viewed that way, makes them sound a whole lot LESS sexy!)....it can be argued that a man's penis is functional to urinate as well. See how silly the logic can go if we reach for any rationale?

If we live in such a patriarchal society, why aren't we seeing more men's bodies on display? Wouldn't they want to proudly display their masculinity?

If men are so incredibly self-conscious about showing their parts, then how can they urinate in front of one another at urinals every day in public restrooms?

Why is it so controversial? I got to thinking more about this the other night when I was watching one of my favorite movies, "Secretary." There is a scene at the end of the movie where Maggie Gyllenhaal is completely nude. You can see her breasts and a small patch of pubic hair revealing her genitals. Meanwhile, James Spader is completely clothed. What's up with that?

It made me wonder how each gender would react if roles were reversed for a day....if instead of seeing a woman's naked body in television, movies, media....what if it were the men who were physically exposed? I bet men would be upset if they never got to see a woman's body. After all, they are visual creatures. A little secret though....so are women! And what about gay men. No wonder they tend to resort to watching pornography; it's the only chance they have of seeing a man's naked flesh!

If roles were reversed, would we live in a world of matriarchal value where exposing a woman's body would be the ultimate taboo? Is the gender that's exposed more respected less? Does the gender that reveals less subtly hold more of a perceived power maybe? Consider the cliche' phrase we sometimes use to describe when someone has been insulted: "He/she hit below the belt." A telling phrase?

What about exposing both genders? Surely this is a sociological issue, as I know other countries are more open with exposing naked bodies than America...yet, we seem to have more hangups and repressed sexual perversions than other countries. I would have to do some research on this, but it's strongly likely.

Maybe if we were more comfortable with our bodies, the idea of nakedness wouldn't be such a prude concept after all.

What happened

The blond 9 year old sits in the condo's modest dining room, finishing up the dinner her lonely single mom has prepared for them. It is the summer of 1986 in the small New England town. The girl is sad too, but isn't old enough to understand how to articulate the confusing swirl of thoughts and emotions. It's like mother and daughter are in two separate worlds. The daughter just having returned from a busy summer filled with camp activities, the mother still struggling to make sense of the husband that had betrayed her. As the bronze tanned and chubby girl scraps off the last few bites off the plate, her mother hurriedly enters the kitchen. Water rushes out of the faucet, dishes colliding and clanging loudly underneath as mom distracts herself with completing the domestic chore. The tired girl isn't paying much attention to whether her mother is speaking to her or not. Mother wonders if her daughter is listening, continuing to raise her voice with a more stern and authoritative tone.

The girl has plopped herself on the couch in the adjacent living room. She couldn't remember what she was thinking at the time. All she remembers is that she felt trapped by the inner confines of her brain, unable to control her body for what seemed like eternity. She was alone in those moments, scared and helpless. Silent screams do no good in dire straits. "Who can believe something is wrong when there is silence?" she could only wonder in retrospect.

Mother storms out of the kitchen yelling at her daughter, furious at what seemed at the time a blatant disrespectful silent response. Time seems to have slowed down for the girl. Her body starts shaking and she can't stop this force that overpowers her being. Mother abruptly stops her disapproving complaints, which are immediately replaced with panic and fear. She was only doing dishes for a few minutes. What could have gone so wrong in such a short span of time? What did she miss and more importantly, what can she do to stop the terror that both mom and daughter are experiencing? It appears as if the girl could be swallowing her own tongue, or choking on something maybe. Mother sticks a finger or two down the girl's mouth near her throat, attempting to see if an object has become lodged there. Nothing. So she calls 9-1-1.

Within minutes an ambulance has arrived. EMT workers are able to get the girl stabilized and lying on a stretcher shortly after her body has stopped shaking. The sun is beginning to go down as surrounding nosy neighbors crowd around to stare and guess as to why this girl is being whisked away in an ambulance on a quiet summer's evening. As they wheel her out the front door of the condo, the girl has somewhat regained enough consciousness to be unexplainably embarrassed and ashamed by the dramatic, scary experience. She justs wants to disappear....herself, them, everything. But making sense of what happened will have to wait. Fatigue weighs heavily on her. It feels like days since she last slept; the intensity of what her body went through sucked all the life energy from her insides.

She awakens hours later in the comfort of her bed. A chunk of what happened to her is a big blur, a blackout triggered by something with far more serious consequences than alcohol or any kind of drug. Tests had been run, diagnoses given. But from that day forward for years to come, the girl felt self-conscious.

Mostly, she felt unsafe with herself and others.

The face of compassion

Yesterday I had the wonderful privilege of attending "Seeds of Compassion" here in Seattle at QWest Field, an event that emphasizes the need for empathy and compassion for all of humanity. The event was primarily geared towards teaching our children (the next generation) how to become beings of 'compassion in action' through attitudes of kindness, nonviolence, tolerance, and constructive dialogue with one another.

While there were various cultures and backgrounds represented, the highlight of the main event was seeing an individual who is the embodiment of the aforementioned qualities: The Dalai Lama. Despite false accusations made against harsh critics (one of which included an airplane broadcasting a banner that read "Dalai Lama, please stop supporting the riots"....flat out ludicrous, as he does NOT support violence whatsoever!), he courageously forges ahead and inspires others (me included) with his wisdom. I am happy and grateful to have enjoyed this experience with thousands of people, especially on such a gorgeous sunny and warm day!

Just being in his presence was magnificent, probably one of the most interesting and profound speeches I have had the pleasure of witnessing right before my eyes. If only everyone around the world could put forth the same kind of peaceful efforts as the Dalai Lama....I can only imagine the positive impact it would have on the whole of humanity. Wow.

Ode to Garcia's

I know it hasn't been that long, but I miss you so oh Garcia's! There will never be another one like you. Try as I did tonight at Viva Mexico (a decent Mexican restaurant) here in the Seattle area, it just wasn't up to par with you. It started with the chips and salsa. Theirs didn't look as homemade (or at all for that matter!) as yours. I was craving a salty, on the rocks margarita and well, let's just say I didn't get very far with that either. I ordered the 22 ounce and barely drank half. I had to keep licking the salt off the glass just to trick myself into believing it tasted delicious. $6.75 for just that glass and they couldn't even give me moderately top notch tequila! What were they thinking? Sigh. Dinner was good, but nothing like all YOU used to offer me.

Oh Garcia's, how you spoiled me with delectable luxury. Now that I've had the best, how can I possibly find another to surpass the divine goodness that is you? Most of all, how you brought my friends and I closer. :)

I'm more in shape than the dog.

A sad, but true statement indeed. Why? For starters, I haven't engaged in vigorous exercise (such as jogging/running) for about 4-5 months until yesterday. My eating habits are average, but definitely not stellar. I am perpetually 20-30 pounds over my ideal weight, something I've struggled with for years. And yet, my endurance and speed during exercise surpasses that of the 9 year old family Sheltie dog, Chloe. I don't know whether to be comforted, disturbed, or a combination of both by this revelation.

I took her for a walk/jog this afternoon, eager to stave off boredom and give the both of us something healthy and active to do. While I would jog off and on, she merely lagged behind on her medium long leash. In fact, I could have jogged MORE and for alot longer but I didn't because she couldn't. What is wrong with this picture, I wondered. How sad it is when a dog is more sedentary and out of shape than a human?

As far back as I can remember, food and exercise have been two sides of the same coin: an enemy in my life. Food was constantly around and exercise wasn't enforced nearly enough for it to become a part of my daily living. I've spent more years fat than thin (or more so, just less fat). The only exercise I remember doing as a child (pre-teen years) was required gym classes at school, a few karate classes I took for fun when I was around 9 or 10, and swimming in the pool during the summers. Not exactly frequent enough exercise to maintain a healthy lifestyle and ideal weight for a child quite susceptible to becoming overweight. Exercise wasn't typically framed as a fun experience, something to be shared with family members. That was usually just reserved for...yup, eating. Exercise felt more like an upward task to me, a dreaded and challenging 'chore' for an overweight girl like me to overcome on her own.

Once I started engaging in any exercise (such as jogging or rollerblading), it wasn't until my later high school and early college years. A sedentary lifestyle was more the rule than the exception within my family. My parents taught me a strong work ethic, that in order to succeed in life one must be persistent, focused, determined to work hard for it. Sometimes I wonder how growing up for me would have been different if they had instilled that same quality within me regarding my physical health. I'm not saying this in a judgmental way towards my parents, more out of just curious reflection.

My dad has always been of average to thin body weight, his eating habits also average. While I don't recall seeing him exercise much beyond my vague memories of him rollerblading and doing the occasional workout training for work-related physicals, he tends to remain active and healthy through home improvement projects and the like. I think he tends to take the all things in moderation approach. My mom, on the other hand, doesn't tend to have the best eating habits (she, like me, tends to be an emotional eater) and isn't very motivated to exercise. Years ago, she did go through a phase when she was actively and happily involved in karate classes....but once she messed up her back from it over time, she gave it up and that was that. It makes me wonder if I had more physically active parents, maybe exercising would have come more naturally and regularly with me.

I see so many parents and families that have taken it to a whole other level, an obsessive quest for competition and perfection in the name of sports. I'm certainly not enforcing that approach either (It's one of the numerous reasons I loathe sports actually, but I'm getting off topic!). All I'm talking about is creating a balance between one's physical, mental, and emotional health.

If someone's mentally or emotionally unhealthy, we usually encourage them to exercise their brain/mental muscles. The same must occur for physical health and for optimal health of oneself. After all, one's physical health can have a significant impact on one's mental and emotional health. Research confirms this! It builds confidence, motivation, relieves tension, and boosts one's energy to conquer life tasks. I'm not saying anything new; everyone knows this. So why aren't we doing anything differently? It's not just me or my family dog. Obesity rates in the United States continue to skyrocket as never before.

If being lazy is just another learned behavior we can change, why aren't we learning newer healthier behaviors?

I think one of the reasons I can empathize (if even on the slightest scale) with how difficult it is for drug addicts to become completely sober is because I am reminded of how many times and how many years I've been trying to lead a healthier lifestyle of proper diet and exercise. You can want something really bad, but it never happens in the blink of an eye.

As with addicts, "relapse" is part of the change/recovery. Being hard on yourself will only leave you feeling discouraged, defeated. Making excuses for a bad habit, however, will only enable you to keep doing it. Thus, trying a little harder and smarter with more mindfulness of what you're doing each time is part of the ongoing process. As I said, I honestly didn't start exercising much until I started college, whether by going to the gym or working out with a friend. It lasted for awhile, but sure enough, once I was in a different environment I stopped. I gained the workout momentum once again while in graduate school, going for runs by the nearby lake or using the elliptical machines at Bally's. Once I no longer could afford a gym membership though, the frequency of exercise dwindled. Naturally, I slowly gained weight that I had worked so diligently to lose in my longterm disciplinary efforts towards a more fit body.

Food isn't a drug, but it has been my destructive habit when abused....regular exercise my rehab. So in a way, this is how I can understand how long it takes to change a negatively learned behavior.

I'm not sure how long my recent motivation for being physically active will last, but I'm oddly comforted and hopeful by the fact that I'm still doing better than the dog. Maybe I can be her motivation....and she can be a reminder of my own willingness to change.

Favorites, to name but a few

Brownies (I could eat these for the rest of eternity and be a happy camper, funny because I'm not much of a sweets person otherwise!)

Six Feet Under
Love. This. Show. And Peter Krause isn't bad to look at either. Not so much on the new tv show he's on these days, but on SFU...definite eye candy.

Photography
Taking photos and looking at them. I never get sick of pictures. :)

Broken English
Excellent movie, one of the few movies I can watch a bazillion times and it still speaks to me.

Writing
Obviously. :)

Osho books
I have no idea why, but I always feel good/better when I read his books...some more than others, but all are insightful in their own way.

Traveling
There's so much you can learn and enjoy about yourself, others and the environment you're in when you're traveling. I wish I were my brother Alex right now, traveling the world. He's in Turkey and onto another country soon....

Psychology
Keeps me intellectually stimulated. Always.

Dogs
I really want one, hopefully sometime this year. :)

Sleep!
Sounds silly and simple, but so UNDER-rated and it's a FREE luxury (especially after basically feeling sleep deprived when I had to wake up at 4am up until a month ago!). :)