this morning on my way to work, I stopped by starbucks to get oatmeal and a drip coffee. I paid for the car behind me too. I hope they enjoyed their free drinks!
hope you're enjoying the free things in life too.
31 October 2010
new: all hallows eve @ bulls head pub
this year, Amy and I both tried something new: dressing up and going out for Halloween! I was a cowgirl, and she was a cat. I was super stoked to buy my boots and denim cutoffs for super cheap-- under $25 for both items-- and I owned or borrowed the remaining parts.
i even curled my hair in little ringlets for tonight!
here's Amy:
we chose the bulls head pub in meridian for our halloween destination. the no-smoking atmosphere was awesome! so nice to come home and not smell like marlboro man's armpit. we split some nachos and laughed at the comedy show--Gabriel something (he's been on comedy central)-- and grooved to the dueling pianos afterward. Amy put on a sad frown until I requested "jet airliner" by Steve miller band for her.
a fun night! so glad to experience something new with a good friend.
i even curled my hair in little ringlets for tonight!
here's Amy:
we chose the bulls head pub in meridian for our halloween destination. the no-smoking atmosphere was awesome! so nice to come home and not smell like marlboro man's armpit. we split some nachos and laughed at the comedy show--Gabriel something (he's been on comedy central)-- and grooved to the dueling pianos afterward. Amy put on a sad frown until I requested "jet airliner" by Steve miller band for her.
a fun night! so glad to experience something new with a good friend.
30 October 2010
new: misc
new: zero calorie, zero sugar, zero taste rating Monster aka poison disguised as canned energy
new: fall leaves make the view from my balcony nearly picture-perfect
new: my first pair of danskos. miracle to solve my aching feet? pending.
new: fall attire. complete with new skinny jeans.
what's new with you, reader?
new: fall leaves make the view from my balcony nearly picture-perfect
new: my first pair of danskos. miracle to solve my aching feet? pending.
new: fall attire. complete with new skinny jeans.
what's new with you, reader?
new: isaiah
dear readers,
i typed a thoughtful and meaningful post last night on my phone that did not post. steve jobs, i fall more and more OUT OF love with you every day. here's my rewritten-- and perhaps less real-- version.
xoxo, -a.
tonight, i attended another friday night bible study at calvary chapel which focused on the sin of false idolatry. the group's regular leader was absent, but i rather liked the lecture-style of this week's leader. as we read passages from the book of isaiah-- which the study leader (is this the right word? it sounds odd) stated is the most quoted book in the new testament and is considered the most "linguistic" book of the bible-- i couldn't help but think of queequeg and his little wooden idol (from moby-dick, for the non-Melville enthusiasts). but the actuality of worshipping false idols is far more prevalent than burning incense and hair in a closet. according to isaiah 45:18-19, "he who created the heavens, he is God; he who fashioned and made the earth, he founded it; he did not create it to be empty, but formed it to be inhabited— he says: "I am the LORD, and there is no other. (19) I have not spoken in secret, from somewhere in a land of darkness; I have not said to Jacob's descendants, 'Seek me in vain.'" so the evolutionist in me is a sinner, which i already knew. then, the study leader said:
"it makes no sense that someone would want a God who is impersonal, who may or may not care about you and what happens to you. so when you die, you just poof into the air and become one with the universe?"
wait, has he been reading my blog?
according to the bible, God created everything with a purpose and does not hide from his seekers. curious. so, i dedicated the remainder of my friday night to reading all 66 chapters of isaiah in order to learn more (and honestly, to scope out the so-called "linguistic" features... which i hope are isaiah's true words/meaning and not formed from the creative mind of the translator).
here are a few things i discovered from my self-motivated new journey into the depths of the crinkly pages of my red NIV bible:
- yes, i am a sinner, but i am in good company. God calls out "those who are heroes at drinking wine and champions at mixing drinks" (5:22).
- i am somewhat comforted that isaiah depicts God as an astute and insightful knower of hearts. God can see through the false praise and outwardly "christian" appearances and see to the blackness of humanity: "Woe to those who go to great depths to hide their plans from the LORD, who do their work in darkness and think, 'Who sees us? Who will know?' " (29:15). the best kept secret does not escape God. "what is dark in me illumine," wrote Milton (and which also serves as the inspiration for the title of my blog). so what are you doing to do about it?
- isaiah 53:10-11 caused me much anguish. the message of the chapter is that christians undergo much suffering for God but are rewarded: "Yet it was the LORD's will to crush him and cause him to suffer, and though the LORD makes his life a guilt offering, he will see his offspring and prolong his days, and the will of the LORD will prosper in his hand. (11) After the suffering of his soul, he will see the light of life and be satisfied". sooo... what if i don't want fertile loins and a long life and actually just throw my hands up and say "eff this" instead of wait around for my so-called prizes of children (gah) and universal satisfaction. none of these things really appeal to me... perhaps i could bargain and ask for a free pass to eat all the sugar and carbs i want and not gain a pound. sigh.
- and secondly, i have issues with someone accepting their lot in life as "a guilt offering" of God. here, child who was molested by your step-father, be comforted. here, student of columbine high school who was shot in the face, know you have a purpose. like, wtf.
sometimes i wish we all could just get along. sometimes i wish my brain and heart would work together to find peace. sometimes i wish my constant struggle for purpose and meaning would just be answered. sometimes i wish a bacom guacamole burger with a side of fries could cure not only a rumbling tummy but also a wandering mind.
as always, your thoughts are welcome.
i typed a thoughtful and meaningful post last night on my phone that did not post. steve jobs, i fall more and more OUT OF love with you every day. here's my rewritten-- and perhaps less real-- version.
xoxo, -a.
tonight, i attended another friday night bible study at calvary chapel which focused on the sin of false idolatry. the group's regular leader was absent, but i rather liked the lecture-style of this week's leader. as we read passages from the book of isaiah-- which the study leader (is this the right word? it sounds odd) stated is the most quoted book in the new testament and is considered the most "linguistic" book of the bible-- i couldn't help but think of queequeg and his little wooden idol (from moby-dick, for the non-Melville enthusiasts). but the actuality of worshipping false idols is far more prevalent than burning incense and hair in a closet. according to isaiah 45:18-19, "he who created the heavens, he is God; he who fashioned and made the earth, he founded it; he did not create it to be empty, but formed it to be inhabited— he says: "I am the LORD, and there is no other. (19) I have not spoken in secret, from somewhere in a land of darkness; I have not said to Jacob's descendants, 'Seek me in vain.'" so the evolutionist in me is a sinner, which i already knew. then, the study leader said:
"it makes no sense that someone would want a God who is impersonal, who may or may not care about you and what happens to you. so when you die, you just poof into the air and become one with the universe?"
wait, has he been reading my blog?
according to the bible, God created everything with a purpose and does not hide from his seekers. curious. so, i dedicated the remainder of my friday night to reading all 66 chapters of isaiah in order to learn more (and honestly, to scope out the so-called "linguistic" features... which i hope are isaiah's true words/meaning and not formed from the creative mind of the translator).
here are a few things i discovered from my self-motivated new journey into the depths of the crinkly pages of my red NIV bible:
- yes, i am a sinner, but i am in good company. God calls out "those who are heroes at drinking wine and champions at mixing drinks" (5:22).
- i am somewhat comforted that isaiah depicts God as an astute and insightful knower of hearts. God can see through the false praise and outwardly "christian" appearances and see to the blackness of humanity: "Woe to those who go to great depths to hide their plans from the LORD, who do their work in darkness and think, 'Who sees us? Who will know?' " (29:15). the best kept secret does not escape God. "what is dark in me illumine," wrote Milton (and which also serves as the inspiration for the title of my blog). so what are you doing to do about it?
- isaiah 53:10-11 caused me much anguish. the message of the chapter is that christians undergo much suffering for God but are rewarded: "Yet it was the LORD's will to crush him and cause him to suffer, and though the LORD makes his life a guilt offering, he will see his offspring and prolong his days, and the will of the LORD will prosper in his hand. (11) After the suffering of his soul, he will see the light of life and be satisfied". sooo... what if i don't want fertile loins and a long life and actually just throw my hands up and say "eff this" instead of wait around for my so-called prizes of children (gah) and universal satisfaction. none of these things really appeal to me... perhaps i could bargain and ask for a free pass to eat all the sugar and carbs i want and not gain a pound. sigh.
- and secondly, i have issues with someone accepting their lot in life as "a guilt offering" of God. here, child who was molested by your step-father, be comforted. here, student of columbine high school who was shot in the face, know you have a purpose. like, wtf.
sometimes i wish we all could just get along. sometimes i wish my brain and heart would work together to find peace. sometimes i wish my constant struggle for purpose and meaning would just be answered. sometimes i wish a bacom guacamole burger with a side of fries could cure not only a rumbling tummy but also a wandering mind.
as always, your thoughts are welcome.
28 October 2010
new: being nice
I grew up striving for excellence--in a practical way. I tried to dress nicely, develop my talents (music, writing, ranting), and make people around me proud of what I did. I quickly learned that the majority of society does not think this way, which is probably why I have been called a nerd and a bitch more times than "celebrity"
and "sex tape" have been said together.
perhaps my appreciation for excellence and my own neurotic tendency to decline compliments/unwarranted niceness explain why I rarely compliment others. perhaps I tire of dealing with rude people all day. perhaps I don't really believe people perpetuate positivity-- like my extra efforts would mean nothing and cause nothing. anyhow, today I set a goal to deliver 25 genuine compliments. it went a little something like this:
FAIL.
but I tried. really.
actually my day started out with a "hey, buddy!" from my coworker who is always friendly. then the first customer I rang up today said, "you have a beautiful conplexion. it doesn't even look real." guess she didn't notice my age spots. my mom, after enduring my pathetic complaints, asserted, "they are not age spots! they are...freckles you get when you get older." so... basically age spots. see, I told you I negate all compliments.
back to how I tried. I told a lady her name is pretty, another that he smelled nice, and another that they were great for being patient. I told an old man that his glasses made him look stately and sophisticated. I commented on a nail polish color, a necklace, and a purse.
so I tried.
then as I was typing a prescription for a woman's antidepressants, her husband asked me, "what's your last name?"
dude, really?
"ha, well why do you ask?"
"oh, my friend's sister works here. thought it might be you?"
doubtful my brother knows where I work, so I said, "well... it's probably not me."
"is your last name chu?"
my whole life has been filled with "heeey! are you related to the chongs who live in Minnesota?" and "what does moo gu gai pan stand for?" so this question did not phase me.
"no," I replied simply.
"well you look like a chu."
well, you, fatty white boy, look like a dumbass racist. why don't you ask me why I'm not tending a rice field in my silken kimono to buy fish for my kid sister who had her left leg blown off in a land mine? I mean, let's be logical here.
"oh. well. I'm not."
then I remembered I was supposed to be nice. so I smiled politely. and I said, "your kid is cute." it was hanging limply in its backpack on mom, a steady drool drip about to hit countertop. but cute. in a smelly baby thats leaking bodily fluids kind of way.
I said I tried.
and "sex tape" have been said together.
perhaps my appreciation for excellence and my own neurotic tendency to decline compliments/unwarranted niceness explain why I rarely compliment others. perhaps I tire of dealing with rude people all day. perhaps I don't really believe people perpetuate positivity-- like my extra efforts would mean nothing and cause nothing. anyhow, today I set a goal to deliver 25 genuine compliments. it went a little something like this:
FAIL.
but I tried. really.
actually my day started out with a "hey, buddy!" from my coworker who is always friendly. then the first customer I rang up today said, "you have a beautiful conplexion. it doesn't even look real." guess she didn't notice my age spots. my mom, after enduring my pathetic complaints, asserted, "they are not age spots! they are...freckles you get when you get older." so... basically age spots. see, I told you I negate all compliments.
back to how I tried. I told a lady her name is pretty, another that he smelled nice, and another that they were great for being patient. I told an old man that his glasses made him look stately and sophisticated. I commented on a nail polish color, a necklace, and a purse.
so I tried.
then as I was typing a prescription for a woman's antidepressants, her husband asked me, "what's your last name?"
dude, really?
"ha, well why do you ask?"
"oh, my friend's sister works here. thought it might be you?"
doubtful my brother knows where I work, so I said, "well... it's probably not me."
"is your last name chu?"
my whole life has been filled with "heeey! are you related to the chongs who live in Minnesota?" and "what does moo gu gai pan stand for?" so this question did not phase me.
"no," I replied simply.
"well you look like a chu."
well, you, fatty white boy, look like a dumbass racist. why don't you ask me why I'm not tending a rice field in my silken kimono to buy fish for my kid sister who had her left leg blown off in a land mine? I mean, let's be logical here.
"oh. well. I'm not."
then I remembered I was supposed to be nice. so I smiled politely. and I said, "your kid is cute." it was hanging limply in its backpack on mom, a steady drool drip about to hit countertop. but cute. in a smelly baby thats leaking bodily fluids kind of way.
I said I tried.
27 October 2010
new: Asian market
today, I visited the new Asian market in Boise. it's been open for about 2 months, according to the nice employee who patiently waited on me as I squealed over the Hello Kitty barrettes. I wandered through the market, observing the odd:
the delicious:
the awesome:
the questionable:
the uncanny:
the petite:
until I found exactly what I was looking for:
it's owned by a man named Ray and his wife, and they purchase the majority of their goods from Chinatown in San Francisco-- so rest assured that you are probably not supporting Vietnamese terrorism or pagan black market mobsters. Peace sign, and out.
the delicious:
the awesome:
the questionable:
the uncanny:
the petite:
until I found exactly what I was looking for:
it's owned by a man named Ray and his wife, and they purchase the majority of their goods from Chinatown in San Francisco-- so rest assured that you are probably not supporting Vietnamese terrorism or pagan black market mobsters. Peace sign, and out.
26 October 2010
new: appreciation
today's new was rather emotional for me. after some space from the pen, I decided to sum up my experience with a few sentences instead of a complex narrative through the often overly-complicated musings of my brain.
I wrote a letter to my high school English and creative writing teacher. two events sparked this: 1) I saw him while I was working and felt overwhelming shame/embarassment/guilt for abandoning my passions in life while being faced with the person who so inspired me to write... I cried under my blankey when I got home (when in doubt, always always blame ridiculous outpourings of emotion on birth control. always.), and 2) I saw a student of mine from my first semester teaching while--again--working and she said, "I liked your class," an unsolicited compliment revealed as if we were talking about them Broncos-- like, what, my composition clas was not a total failure or waste of time and, well, maybe I just projected my insecurities onto teaching the young and impressionable minds at my fingertips. her nonchalant comment made all those late nights at IHOP responding to unit projects completely worth it. and I thought that maybe my high school English teacher would appreciate a short note saying thanks for inspiring me to invest in an education that would shape my perspectives on how I observe and interpret and question the world around me.
after I sealed the note, I felt like tearing it up. what if he thinks I'm crazy? but I promise I will send it tomorrow. because, really, I am a little bit crazy. who isn't?
I wrote a letter to my high school English and creative writing teacher. two events sparked this: 1) I saw him while I was working and felt overwhelming shame/embarassment/guilt for abandoning my passions in life while being faced with the person who so inspired me to write... I cried under my blankey when I got home (when in doubt, always always blame ridiculous outpourings of emotion on birth control. always.), and 2) I saw a student of mine from my first semester teaching while--again--working and she said, "I liked your class," an unsolicited compliment revealed as if we were talking about them Broncos-- like, what, my composition clas was not a total failure or waste of time and, well, maybe I just projected my insecurities onto teaching the young and impressionable minds at my fingertips. her nonchalant comment made all those late nights at IHOP responding to unit projects completely worth it. and I thought that maybe my high school English teacher would appreciate a short note saying thanks for inspiring me to invest in an education that would shape my perspectives on how I observe and interpret and question the world around me.
after I sealed the note, I felt like tearing it up. what if he thinks I'm crazy? but I promise I will send it tomorrow. because, really, I am a little bit crazy. who isn't?
25 October 2010
new: combat training
when I joined golds gym, I was both intrigued and intimidated by the fitness classes offered there. so today, I decided to try one out: combat training. i figured it would be similar to my canceled turbo kick class, and the brochure pushed the high energy workout environment. so I showed up in the group exercise studio at 9:29 this morning, nervous but excited for my new workout.
four girls had already assumed their place on the wooden workout floor. a 7-months pregnant woman whose waist size is still probably smaller than the majority of american women was cuing up the stereo and affixing her headset. she chatted with the girl in front of me... just another monday...
my heart started racing with anticipation.
the music started. the beat echoed off the walls and reverberated in my quivering guts.
then I noticed that everyone was shifting their weight from side to side. guess I missed the memo to warmup. so I mimicked the movements, getting a feel for the music.
"forward shuffle!" boomed from the instructor's headset.
wait, what?
"and back!"
wait, what?
everyone--except me-- moved forward and back in unison. pretty sure I've seen wolf spiders pull this exact same move with me.
"and forward... now right hook!"
and in a swift movement of elbows and fists, I knew I was lost. so, Im standing there still bouncing back and forth and the instructor shouts, "and right punch! in the jaw... in the jaw... in the jaw! punch your attacker in the jaw!"
the girl next to me was staring angrily into the mirror punching the air like mike tyson and scowling like a woman scorned. I had a very strong desire to laugh. so I did. but then the instructor shouted, "now reach... and reach... and reach!" as the girls stretched their arms around like handcuffs... except at that moment, all I could think about was how they looked like sweaty earwigs trying to look tough with their reach around.
"and left hook! in the jaw... in the jaw... in the jaw... hit him square in the jaw."
my laughter progressed into shaking my head, so I gathered my water bottle and headed for the elliptical. there is something to be said for comfort. I caught glimpses of the class; the girls starting kicking and lunging in unison. obviously, I must have missed the BASIC combat training class for these choreographed self-defense moves.
I mean, maybe golds should teach how to defend myself against crazy ex-strippers from Texas who threaten me because her husband who I dated briefly in high school commented on my Facebook picture. because I'm pretty sure shuffle forward and left hook isn't going to work.
perhaps I already possess the necessary skills inherently present from my ninja ancestors.
and spider monkey... and spider monkey... and spider monkey!
and power ranger... and power ranger... and power ranger!
what I learned today: I am not cool enough for fitness classes. hi-ya.
four girls had already assumed their place on the wooden workout floor. a 7-months pregnant woman whose waist size is still probably smaller than the majority of american women was cuing up the stereo and affixing her headset. she chatted with the girl in front of me... just another monday...
my heart started racing with anticipation.
the music started. the beat echoed off the walls and reverberated in my quivering guts.
then I noticed that everyone was shifting their weight from side to side. guess I missed the memo to warmup. so I mimicked the movements, getting a feel for the music.
"forward shuffle!" boomed from the instructor's headset.
wait, what?
"and back!"
wait, what?
everyone--except me-- moved forward and back in unison. pretty sure I've seen wolf spiders pull this exact same move with me.
"and forward... now right hook!"
and in a swift movement of elbows and fists, I knew I was lost. so, Im standing there still bouncing back and forth and the instructor shouts, "and right punch! in the jaw... in the jaw... in the jaw! punch your attacker in the jaw!"
the girl next to me was staring angrily into the mirror punching the air like mike tyson and scowling like a woman scorned. I had a very strong desire to laugh. so I did. but then the instructor shouted, "now reach... and reach... and reach!" as the girls stretched their arms around like handcuffs... except at that moment, all I could think about was how they looked like sweaty earwigs trying to look tough with their reach around.
"and left hook! in the jaw... in the jaw... in the jaw... hit him square in the jaw."
my laughter progressed into shaking my head, so I gathered my water bottle and headed for the elliptical. there is something to be said for comfort. I caught glimpses of the class; the girls starting kicking and lunging in unison. obviously, I must have missed the BASIC combat training class for these choreographed self-defense moves.
I mean, maybe golds should teach how to defend myself against crazy ex-strippers from Texas who threaten me because her husband who I dated briefly in high school commented on my Facebook picture. because I'm pretty sure shuffle forward and left hook isn't going to work.
perhaps I already possess the necessary skills inherently present from my ninja ancestors.
and spider monkey... and spider monkey... and spider monkey!
and power ranger... and power ranger... and power ranger!
what I learned today: I am not cool enough for fitness classes. hi-ya.
24 October 2010
new: apple raisin cookies
tonight, I bought the ingredients for a new recipe from "everyday food" magazine (I bought a subscription for myself and mom last year for Christmas). I spent a little over $5 for everything-- plus two yogurts for tomorrow. I LOVE and so appreciate winco's bulk foods section.
cooking lesson moment #1: wow, I must not cook with nutmeg and raisins and etc much because I had to buy it all!
of course I had to treat myself to a caramel hot chocolate (quite a cup of happiness for 38 cents).
and then the baking started.
cooking lesson moment #2: I have absolutely no counter space in my kitchen. giant sad face with small tear.
cooking lesson moment #3: after all these years, I do not own a spatula. yes, that is a rice paddle. it worked just fine. high five to my people.
this is actually two "news" in one. I'm taking my cookies to work tomorrow to share with my coworkers. pretty sure everyone but me has brought in a handmade goodie... so eat up, kids.
cooking lesson moment #1: wow, I must not cook with nutmeg and raisins and etc much because I had to buy it all!
of course I had to treat myself to a caramel hot chocolate (quite a cup of happiness for 38 cents).
and then the baking started.
cooking lesson moment #2: I have absolutely no counter space in my kitchen. giant sad face with small tear.
cooking lesson moment #3: after all these years, I do not own a spatula. yes, that is a rice paddle. it worked just fine. high five to my people.
this is actually two "news" in one. I'm taking my cookies to work tomorrow to share with my coworkers. pretty sure everyone but me has brought in a handmade goodie... so eat up, kids.
23 October 2010
new: cinnaberry Asian
not quite a ginger but I'll settle for anime-worthy.
conversation:
mom: ok, stick your head under here.
[I place my hair under the faucet until all is wet.]
mom: why is it dripping?
me: because it's wet.
[mom rubs my hair with towel and then runs her fingers through my matted mess.]
mom: it's not very wet.
me: umm probably because YOU JUST DRIED IT.
mom: no, you didn't get it wet enough. let me do it.
and process repeats.
giving a plastic bag its fifteen minutes of fame.
red tint on my hair's infinite blackness. I smell like cinnamon.
conversation:
mom: ok, stick your head under here.
[I place my hair under the faucet until all is wet.]
mom: why is it dripping?
me: because it's wet.
[mom rubs my hair with towel and then runs her fingers through my matted mess.]
mom: it's not very wet.
me: umm probably because YOU JUST DRIED IT.
mom: no, you didn't get it wet enough. let me do it.
and process repeats.
giving a plastic bag its fifteen minutes of fame.
red tint on my hair's infinite blackness. I smell like cinnamon.
22 October 2010
new: bible study
tonight, I went to a bible study at Calvary Chapel. the fellow studiers were singles around 25-30 years old, including my friend Amy. I have not been to church or a bible study in years--for many reasons, mostly personal-- so this new experience prompts much reflection and many questions.
the focus of tonight's study was on the definition of man/sin in order to establish the importance of a foundation in Gos. we looked at 1 Thessalonians 5 and the first few chapters of Genesis. the bible states that man was fashioned after God and was given a task to tend the garden of Eden-- until, as we all know, the serpent tricked Eve and the fall of mankind ensued. we, therefore, are cursed with physical pain and separation from God because of sin. man is three parts: spirit, soul, and body. all three parts suffer because of original sin, but the spirit is important because it is a metaphorical umbilical cord to God. as the bible study leader said, we cannot know God without our spirit and we will be denied entrance into the kingdom of heaven.
cool. I believe all of that. I do not doubt that Eve was tempted by Satan with the false promise that everything would be ok, that through her rebellion she would learn about good and evil, and that sharing her knowledge would lead to greater enlightenment. so mankind is weak; but God made him so. and I believe that Christians are terrified by the thought of eternal separation from God and therefore spending their life away from earth in hell with the devil (any episode of "South Park" would confirm that). but what if the thought of living FOREVER makes me feel so tired and hopeless that I wish for nonexistence beyond my temporal life? like, really, I go through life here and there's still more to it? please.
how do spirit, soul, and body work together? who do I really address when I say things like, "oh my god" and "I swear..."? why don't I pray? (tonight, I prayed out loud for the first time in a prayer circle.) what keeps me from acceptance-- if belief is there, why won't I receive?
we all answer to a higher power. it's figuring out what/who that really is.
the focus of tonight's study was on the definition of man/sin in order to establish the importance of a foundation in Gos. we looked at 1 Thessalonians 5 and the first few chapters of Genesis. the bible states that man was fashioned after God and was given a task to tend the garden of Eden-- until, as we all know, the serpent tricked Eve and the fall of mankind ensued. we, therefore, are cursed with physical pain and separation from God because of sin. man is three parts: spirit, soul, and body. all three parts suffer because of original sin, but the spirit is important because it is a metaphorical umbilical cord to God. as the bible study leader said, we cannot know God without our spirit and we will be denied entrance into the kingdom of heaven.
cool. I believe all of that. I do not doubt that Eve was tempted by Satan with the false promise that everything would be ok, that through her rebellion she would learn about good and evil, and that sharing her knowledge would lead to greater enlightenment. so mankind is weak; but God made him so. and I believe that Christians are terrified by the thought of eternal separation from God and therefore spending their life away from earth in hell with the devil (any episode of "South Park" would confirm that). but what if the thought of living FOREVER makes me feel so tired and hopeless that I wish for nonexistence beyond my temporal life? like, really, I go through life here and there's still more to it? please.
how do spirit, soul, and body work together? who do I really address when I say things like, "oh my god" and "I swear..."? why don't I pray? (tonight, I prayed out loud for the first time in a prayer circle.) what keeps me from acceptance-- if belief is there, why won't I receive?
we all answer to a higher power. it's figuring out what/who that really is.
21 October 2010
new: hour of power
golds gym style.
-15 min treadmill
-15 min bike
-15 min combo stair stepper/elliptical
-15 min elliptical
(actually i spent almost 17 minutes on the bike... I got wrapped up in "the mentalist." that Simon Baker.)
-508 calories burned
-7.1 miles accomplished
and my cranberry-pomegranate juice with vanilla whey powder is the most delicious dessert I've had in a while.
i feel really good about my workouts since re-joining a gym. it's not hard work-- I can watch tv and socialize and burn off my daytime food sins (like the southwest-style chicken and dumplings soup at subway today... frickin awesome). today's new workout challenge is one I will likely repeat. 15 minutes per machine goes by so much faster than 30-45 on a single machine.
now for some edamame and antiques roadshow.
-15 min treadmill
-15 min bike
-15 min combo stair stepper/elliptical
-15 min elliptical
(actually i spent almost 17 minutes on the bike... I got wrapped up in "the mentalist." that Simon Baker.)
-508 calories burned
-7.1 miles accomplished
and my cranberry-pomegranate juice with vanilla whey powder is the most delicious dessert I've had in a while.
i feel really good about my workouts since re-joining a gym. it's not hard work-- I can watch tv and socialize and burn off my daytime food sins (like the southwest-style chicken and dumplings soup at subway today... frickin awesome). today's new workout challenge is one I will likely repeat. 15 minutes per machine goes by so much faster than 30-45 on a single machine.
now for some edamame and antiques roadshow.
20 October 2010
new: CPht
well, i finally took the plunge: i received my pharmacy technician certification. the testing location was boise state's technology building, so i rode my bike on the greenbelt this morning to get there; today was truly a perfect, sunny yet crisp day in boise and the fresh air woke me up more than my morning java-- i don't think i could have picked a more beautiful day to ride towards an exam. i can only speculate as to the real reason for my silly procrastination... my national certification means i will get a raise and can now brag about my awesome job title on my ever-waning CV.
because, you know this piece of paper with a number on it saying i passed has nothing to do with my ability to calculate days supply, or figure out how much blah i will need to make 20% of blah with blah-blah, or recite the formula for young's, fried's, and clarks rule for calculating childrens' dosing, or recognizing the difference between a proton pump inhibitor and an h-2 blocker.
i mean, you know that this certification really entitles me to go to work each and every day with a smile and freshly washed white smock-- where i can pander to narcotics addicts, and pretend like i care that the diapers being purchased are for a 17-year-old tabby cat with incontinence issues, and completely screw over yet another grandma who pays hundreds of dollars a month so she can breathe and build up her decaying femurs, and gradually despise every.single.welfare.recipient who reaches inside her coach purse with her manicured nails reeking of menthols in her juicy couture track suit, and answer the incessantly ringing phone with a genuine greeting and desire to help out my fellow human sickies.
congratulations to me.
because, you know this piece of paper with a number on it saying i passed has nothing to do with my ability to calculate days supply, or figure out how much blah i will need to make 20% of blah with blah-blah, or recite the formula for young's, fried's, and clarks rule for calculating childrens' dosing, or recognizing the difference between a proton pump inhibitor and an h-2 blocker.
i mean, you know that this certification really entitles me to go to work each and every day with a smile and freshly washed white smock-- where i can pander to narcotics addicts, and pretend like i care that the diapers being purchased are for a 17-year-old tabby cat with incontinence issues, and completely screw over yet another grandma who pays hundreds of dollars a month so she can breathe and build up her decaying femurs, and gradually despise every.single.welfare.recipient who reaches inside her coach purse with her manicured nails reeking of menthols in her juicy couture track suit, and answer the incessantly ringing phone with a genuine greeting and desire to help out my fellow human sickies.
congratulations to me.
19 October 2010
new: Asian helper
I am all about easy cooking. tonight, I let Betty Crocker lend me a hand with Asian Helper's chicken fried rice. you too can find this little kitchen friend in your local grocery store. in Albertsons, it is located in the boxed dinners (do not search for it next to the soy sauce and seaweed, as logical and tempting as it is).
I am no stranger to hamburger and chicken helper. I love the cheesy enchilada helper, and I am surprised that ol Betty hasn't launched a line of Mexican-- oh, excuse me, Latino-- Helper to stack next to Italian Helper (you mean the lasagna helper is trying to pass as american food?! gasp!) and Lazy Ass at-least-this-isnt-mcdonalds Helper. I am sure glad that the chicken fried rice box that I bought tonight for $1 was labeled Asian though-- I wouldn't want consumers mistakenly buying something so obviously ethnic and thinking it was just a version of middle-class, white American 3 cheese macaroni.
I mixed up some of my own ingredients:
and 30 minutes later, I had chicken fried rice! I was sooo helped by the Asian!
my tastebuds approve! although, I'm pretty sure ultra-authentic panda express still takes the prize for best fried rice.
then I noticed my meal was missing something. oh no! I forgot the egg!
then it was even better.
try it out. maybe next time I'll live on the edge and get Mongolian-style beef-- not to be confused with the real Mongolian beef... it's just the style...
I AM ASIAN HELPER!!!
and so can you.
I am no stranger to hamburger and chicken helper. I love the cheesy enchilada helper, and I am surprised that ol Betty hasn't launched a line of Mexican-- oh, excuse me, Latino-- Helper to stack next to Italian Helper (you mean the lasagna helper is trying to pass as american food?! gasp!) and Lazy Ass at-least-this-isnt-mcdonalds Helper. I am sure glad that the chicken fried rice box that I bought tonight for $1 was labeled Asian though-- I wouldn't want consumers mistakenly buying something so obviously ethnic and thinking it was just a version of middle-class, white American 3 cheese macaroni.
I mixed up some of my own ingredients:
and 30 minutes later, I had chicken fried rice! I was sooo helped by the Asian!
my tastebuds approve! although, I'm pretty sure ultra-authentic panda express still takes the prize for best fried rice.
then I noticed my meal was missing something. oh no! I forgot the egg!
then it was even better.
try it out. maybe next time I'll live on the edge and get Mongolian-style beef-- not to be confused with the real Mongolian beef... it's just the style...
I AM ASIAN HELPER!!!
and so can you.
18 October 2010
new: pool shark
since joining golds gym, I've spent countless hours exercising. I'll admit: boredom seeps in. and you'd think I would know better than dousing my epidermis in a non-chlorinated body of water, but I challenged myself to swim the saline waters at golds today. after months of excuses (I don't have the right swimsuit, I need goggles, what if I contract syphilis from microscopic chunks of floating flesh), I dove right in.
not exactly.
I walked in on an adult water aerobics class. so I sat in the hottub, avoiding the eyes of a rather dimply (and not just in the facial region) old man and a younger couple having a very serious conversation with their eyes. when the class ended, I shuffled over to the pool and dipped a toe in. the water was surprisingly warm-- but not TOO warm, because pool water that is body temperature reminds me of unknowingly swimming into my brother's pee patches in our backyard pool when I was younger. I always had an in-ground pool growing up in California, but my aquatic activities were limited to pretending I was a mermaid and diving for rings aka sunken treasure.
once I hopped into the golds pool, I kind of stood there. I stretched and pretended like I totally knew how to pull a Michael Phelps. except, laps made my shoulders hurt after one very crooked line to the other end. then I tried running in the water; seriously, it was much harder than I thought. feeling lost, I decided to float on my back and listen to the water sounds.
and then I decided to kick and swim backward. this worked out quite well--my shoulders didn't ache and my legs got a workout. in hindsight, I imagine I looked something like a giant silly sea otter but eh.
I'm still pruny and rather cold (I don't think hot showers could ever stop feeling amazing), but I would swim again if I could figure out how to exercise and not look confused. am I too old for swimming lessons?
not exactly.
I walked in on an adult water aerobics class. so I sat in the hottub, avoiding the eyes of a rather dimply (and not just in the facial region) old man and a younger couple having a very serious conversation with their eyes. when the class ended, I shuffled over to the pool and dipped a toe in. the water was surprisingly warm-- but not TOO warm, because pool water that is body temperature reminds me of unknowingly swimming into my brother's pee patches in our backyard pool when I was younger. I always had an in-ground pool growing up in California, but my aquatic activities were limited to pretending I was a mermaid and diving for rings aka sunken treasure.
once I hopped into the golds pool, I kind of stood there. I stretched and pretended like I totally knew how to pull a Michael Phelps. except, laps made my shoulders hurt after one very crooked line to the other end. then I tried running in the water; seriously, it was much harder than I thought. feeling lost, I decided to float on my back and listen to the water sounds.
and then I decided to kick and swim backward. this worked out quite well--my shoulders didn't ache and my legs got a workout. in hindsight, I imagine I looked something like a giant silly sea otter but eh.
I'm still pruny and rather cold (I don't think hot showers could ever stop feeling amazing), but I would swim again if I could figure out how to exercise and not look confused. am I too old for swimming lessons?
17 October 2010
new: tanzanite and beets
when I graduated from high school, my parents bought me a beautiful tanzanite and diamond ring. time dulled the white gold and thickened my finger; I wore it less and less. I decided to resize my ring up half a size and wear it on my right hand ring finger (instead of my left hand where I wore it before). the ring is newly plated and cleaned-- so shiny!
since I was heading to the mall to pick up my ring, I decided to dine at the Cheesecake Factory. I have been craving their endive salad and determined that eating at a real restaurant alone was something new. I've eaten lunch alone countless times but never at a restaurant where I leave a tip and such.
I approached the hostess and immediately became self-conscious.
"how many?" she asked.
"one," I replied.
"oh! how's your day going?"
"good. yours?"
she smiled and said, "oh you know!"
I really didn't know, but at this point she began conferring with another man who was pouring over the table chart.
"she's alone," the hostess reminded him. "here?" she asked him as she pointed to something on the map.
"no, 35," he said, "so she won't be alone."
perhaps eating out alone on a Sunday night is sadder than I thought. really, my intentions were to enjoy a good meal without relying on a friend to accompany me. I grow increasingly annoyed with feeling held back because of other people.
so table 35 was a table for 2 right next to a table for 6. its occupants turned out to be a fairly prominent Boise surgeon and his wife and kids; they also happen to fill at my pharmacy. after the somewhat awkward smiles of acknowledgement, I looke over the small bites appetizer section. in addition to the endive salad, I ordered beets with apples and gorgonzola cheese.
i had never eaten beets before. they taste nothing like they look; I was expecting somethig sweet but was pleasantly surprised by their earthy flavor (kind of mirroring the musky flavor of the cheese). I like my new vegetable friend.
my server asked me three times how I was doing. not "how's the food?" but "are you ok? how are you? things ok? you doing all right?" and what if they weren't? would she have listened? I suppose her questions were asked with good intentions, which brings me to believe people are not as cold and selfish as I sometimes think.
three girls ate dessert at the table across from me. they appeared to be looking for someone, and I heard one of the girls say, "we could ask her? she's alone." but then my server walked by their table, and one girl asked her to take their photo.
i don't really know what I expected from my solo dining experience other than good food. I did not enjoy the anonymity I would have appreciated; however, I ate faster (the lack of conversing with a table partner probably contributed to this) and felt more aware of my surroundings-- like noticing the mural on the ceiling of the CF and being able to study the details of the tile pattern on the floor.
not a bad way to spend a Sunday night.
since I was heading to the mall to pick up my ring, I decided to dine at the Cheesecake Factory. I have been craving their endive salad and determined that eating at a real restaurant alone was something new. I've eaten lunch alone countless times but never at a restaurant where I leave a tip and such.
I approached the hostess and immediately became self-conscious.
"how many?" she asked.
"one," I replied.
"oh! how's your day going?"
"good. yours?"
she smiled and said, "oh you know!"
I really didn't know, but at this point she began conferring with another man who was pouring over the table chart.
"she's alone," the hostess reminded him. "here?" she asked him as she pointed to something on the map.
"no, 35," he said, "so she won't be alone."
perhaps eating out alone on a Sunday night is sadder than I thought. really, my intentions were to enjoy a good meal without relying on a friend to accompany me. I grow increasingly annoyed with feeling held back because of other people.
so table 35 was a table for 2 right next to a table for 6. its occupants turned out to be a fairly prominent Boise surgeon and his wife and kids; they also happen to fill at my pharmacy. after the somewhat awkward smiles of acknowledgement, I looke over the small bites appetizer section. in addition to the endive salad, I ordered beets with apples and gorgonzola cheese.
i had never eaten beets before. they taste nothing like they look; I was expecting somethig sweet but was pleasantly surprised by their earthy flavor (kind of mirroring the musky flavor of the cheese). I like my new vegetable friend.
my server asked me three times how I was doing. not "how's the food?" but "are you ok? how are you? things ok? you doing all right?" and what if they weren't? would she have listened? I suppose her questions were asked with good intentions, which brings me to believe people are not as cold and selfish as I sometimes think.
three girls ate dessert at the table across from me. they appeared to be looking for someone, and I heard one of the girls say, "we could ask her? she's alone." but then my server walked by their table, and one girl asked her to take their photo.
i don't really know what I expected from my solo dining experience other than good food. I did not enjoy the anonymity I would have appreciated; however, I ate faster (the lack of conversing with a table partner probably contributed to this) and felt more aware of my surroundings-- like noticing the mural on the ceiling of the CF and being able to study the details of the tile pattern on the floor.
not a bad way to spend a Sunday night.
16 October 2010
new: B2B
in junior high, I hated two things: menstruating and "running the mile" in PE. I think a good mile time for me was something like 14 or 15 minutes. maybe even 20. sweating was just so, like, not kewl and skinny was, like, so gr8.
well, I still think sweating is yucky. however, so is feeling like a blobby chunk of cottage cheese with flesh. the scale says I've lost 21 lbs since June, and with newfound confidence comes a sense of athleticism and duty to display these solid beastly thighs. and ta-da, today I ran my first 5k race: barber to Boise, although the 5k actually looped through just Boise.
my pre-race self-portrait.
the race was quick. I started out frustrated, weaving through strollers and children in tutus. (now, I think a tutu would have been fabulous. then, I thought, "MOVE YOUR FLUFFY TAFFETA OR LOSE IT!") I made it past the 1 mile mark, still at a solid jog, and I heard a girl say, "1.33!" (miles), checked my watch and saw it had been about 12 minutes and I immediately thought, Frick, i'm going to burn out.
I walked five times between the halfway point and the finish line, was beaten by an 11-year-old in a grass skirt (the shame), but finished with a time of 31:44. I think my thought process during the final lap around Bronco Stadium was, "sweatpancakessweatpainpancakesowwwwPANCAKES..."
then I ate my victory food with a 50ish-yrs old friendly couple who finished in under 20 minutes. good for them, I hope I am still as fit and in love when I'm 50.
then I remembered why I should have ridden my bike today after reaching my car. stupid hybrid piece of crap, I hope you rot in a junkyard next to toasters and curling irons.
nap time.
well, I still think sweating is yucky. however, so is feeling like a blobby chunk of cottage cheese with flesh. the scale says I've lost 21 lbs since June, and with newfound confidence comes a sense of athleticism and duty to display these solid beastly thighs. and ta-da, today I ran my first 5k race: barber to Boise, although the 5k actually looped through just Boise.
my pre-race self-portrait.
the race was quick. I started out frustrated, weaving through strollers and children in tutus. (now, I think a tutu would have been fabulous. then, I thought, "MOVE YOUR FLUFFY TAFFETA OR LOSE IT!") I made it past the 1 mile mark, still at a solid jog, and I heard a girl say, "1.33!" (miles), checked my watch and saw it had been about 12 minutes and I immediately thought, Frick, i'm going to burn out.
I walked five times between the halfway point and the finish line, was beaten by an 11-year-old in a grass skirt (the shame), but finished with a time of 31:44. I think my thought process during the final lap around Bronco Stadium was, "sweatpancakessweatpainpancakesowwwwPANCAKES..."
then I ate my victory food with a 50ish-yrs old friendly couple who finished in under 20 minutes. good for them, I hope I am still as fit and in love when I'm 50.
then I remembered why I should have ridden my bike today after reaching my car. stupid hybrid piece of crap, I hope you rot in a junkyard next to toasters and curling irons.
nap time.
07 October 2010
a star is born
I have decided on a new venture.
I will break out of my box, get out of my rut, and all those other cliche phrases.
new.
change.
aiming for some perspective on the old.
challenge.
I will try something new everyday for 1 month. starting October 16 aka race day. be ready. set.
01 October 2010
next
lately, my blog functions as a challenge board for me. first, a post a day. then, pictures of summer. each blog post is like a little gold star. hoooray, I did what I told myself to do! and really, I benefit from writing (and photographing, I suppose) more than you do.
so why stop the ego trip?
I wonder what I should do now. I'm thinking, I'm thinking...
so why stop the ego trip?
I wonder what I should do now. I'm thinking, I'm thinking...