Now What?

Actual conversation I had with my therapist today:

Me: So. Uh. I have jury duty tomorrow and, um… I’m actually kinda looking forward to it… cause…

Her: Cause it’s something to do?

Me: Yeah…

Now that I’m done with my half marathon, I’m experiencing some letdown. It’s like the day after Christmas. Sadly, there’s no half price half-marathon candy at Duane Reade the day after the race to lessen the blow. [This probably makes me a prime candidate for postpartum depression some day. Oh joy.] Training was such a huge part of my day-to-day existence, I feel sort of sad without it now.

So, now what?

I suppose the best strategy would be to set a new goal, one with a definite ending point or means of measuring my success [those goals seem to be the most satisfying, right?]. As I look back on my hopes for 2013, there are a few things that jump out at me.

10. Cook more. I have DRASTICALLY reduced my delivery.com consumption (YAY!), but I’m still not really, actually cooking. I heat things up. Occasionally I make pasta. I wouldn’t really call those things cooking.

17. Go on some dates. OkCupid Month of Yes got a little waylaid by my training. I’m going to keep at it (I have a date tonight, actually), but I’m also going to explore some other options. I know that this is 2013 and everyone is on OkCupid, but sometimes it just feels so forced and fake to meet people through the interwebs.

19. Keep my room clean. And really, my whole apartment, while I’m at it. I want to buy some new furniture and linens, but I have decided that I cannot do that until I keep my apartment consistently clean for a good amount of time [what is a good amount of time? 4 months?].

25. Get back into dance class. This is an addition! I used to dance a lot [A+ for effort, but I was never going to be on So You Think You Can Dance or anything like that] and I miss it. Ideally, I’d like to take 3-5 classes per week, but they are expensive. I’m going to commit myself to one class per week and see how it goes from there.

For some reason, this video seems apropos. I can do anything good!

How do you pull yourself up after something major has passed?

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Comfortable Being Uncomfortable

I was already out of breath and glistening* when I arrived at my very first SoulCycle class.

The day before, Olivia from season 11 of The Biggest Loser** posted on Facebook that she was teaching a free SoulCycle class on the Upper East Side. All you had to do was comment on her post and she would message you a confirmation and additional information.

I’ve been wanting to try SoulCycle for awhile now. People are obsessed with it. It’s like lululemon or iPhones or pork belly. I had to know what was so revolutionary about a spin class***. However, I had no idea that I regularly rub shoulders with so many closet trust fund babies. These classes are off the hook expensive. So I had resigned myself to just wondering about SoulCycle.

I commented on her status and excitedly awaited the arrival of the promised confirmation message.

It never came.

I thought it was strange. But I also had other shit going on, so I didn’t worry about it too much. I came to terms with the fact that maybe free SoulCycle was too good to be true.

At 1:10, fifty minutes before the class was set to begin, it occurred to me that her message might have gone to my “other” inbox. I don’t know when this “other” inbox came into existence, but I just recently became aware of it. Apparently Facebook arbitrarily decides which messages should go into your “regular” inbox and which should go into your “other” inbox. If a message is deemed “other”, you don’t receive a notification.

Sure enough, there were TWO messages from Olivia waiting for me. I had a bike with my name on it.

I was angry. I called my mom [as I am wont to do in these situations] and recounted the sequence of events.

Me: So now I’m pissed because I was so excited to take this class and meet Olivia [*cough*fangirl*cough*] and now I can’t.

Mom: Well. That’s your decision. [I HATE it when she says those kinds of mom things to me.]

Me: What? No it’s not! I have no control here!

Mom: You could still make it to the class on time, couldn’t you?

No. She was wrong.

Mark Zuckerberg was deliberately sabotaging my opportunity for free SoulCycle.

I needed time to mentally prepare myself for this class.

I hadn’t showered.

I was just another innocent victim of Facebook upgrades, and I was going to wallow in my self pity for the rest of the day.

And then I realized that she was right. I COULD, in fact, make it to the class on time. It was my choice.

So I made the choice to go. I ran to the subway. [Half marathon training and express train FTW!]

Olivia started class and announced that the theme was “comfortable being uncomfortable.” It seemed so serendipitously fitting. In my ideal world, I would have been preparing (mentally, water-bottle-and-sports-bra-gathering-wise, whatever) for hours before. But I decided that it was worth it to step outside of my comfort zone in order to attend class.

The class was awesome. I felt a little bit like an uncoordinated buffoon because I could not stay on the beat of the music at all. “We ride as a pack!” she exclaimed when the class started. Well. If we were a pride, I would have been the lion picked off by hyenas. I was NOT part of the pack, try as I might. But I had an amazing time nonetheless. The 45 minutes flew by. I loved the feeling of community [no thanks to me and my beat-less-ness] and accomplishment and jazziness [there is dancing and music and mood-lighting, oh my!]

I am painfully aware of the fact that, usually, when I force myself to do something that I don’t want to do, I have a lot of fun. I meet new people. I have experiences that are unfamiliar and awesome. My comfort zone is comfortable. It is also predictable, stagnant, oppressive at times.

I left class pondering “comfortable being uncomfortable” and I happened upon this sidewalk art.

Image

The universe was sending me messages. Messages received [no thanks to Mark Zuckerberg].

*In the interest of full disclosure, the glistening part isn’t that surprising. I’m a sweaty gal. My mom thinks it’s because I have Nordic blood, so I’m just naturally warmer. To be honest, my regular temperature is around 99.1, not 98.6. So I’ll just blame my Swedish ancestors and natural selection for my proclivity to perspire.

**You guys. I told you I LOVE The Biggest Loser. I wasn’t playing around when I said that. Olivia was one of my most favorite contestants of all time.

***I took a spin class once at Gold’s Gym and I would liken it to cruel and unusual torture. Apparently, there was a sub, and all of the class regulars decided to play hooky. There were 3 people in the class and the instructor knew I had never spun before, so he just spent the entire hour silently observing and judging my failure.

Classy and Fabulous

Dear People of the Information Superhighway,

Hello! Welcome to my blog. Take off your coat! Can I get you a drink? I know it’s still a little barren here, but I’ve only just moved in and I’m still trying to get settled. I had grand visions of having a black and white and red theme (or mint and peach and cream) with a lower case cursive header. Sadly, such a theme did not exist in the “Free Themes” section of WordPress. Mama can’t afford to pay for a theme (or a custom design, for that matter). So, we’ll stick with the Twenty Eleven theme until this blog lands me a book deal, sold at all of the Urban Outfitters across the nation. (Kidding. Unless you, whoever you are, DO want to offer me a book deal. Then, I am your writing monkey.)

This is actually my second foray into the blog-o-sphere. My first blog, sadly, led me into a deep, dark pit of despair. It made me sad. Sometimes, I dreaded writing it. Most of the time I didn’t have much of anything to say, save to recount the embarrassing, painful things that had happened in my (recent and ancient) past.

It was about my dating life.

Clearly, I could not continue to blog in such a self-destructive, self-loathing manner.

So, here I am.

2013.

As I rang in the new year, I had two horrendous realizations:

  1. I turn 30 this year.
  2. Much to Coco Chanel’s chagrin, I would probably not, in all instances, describe my life as classy and fabulous.

While I can’t really do much of anything about Item 1, I can surely make it less painful (and, dare I say it, extremely enjoyable) by eradicating Item 2. So. I’m just going to focus on being classy and fabulous and watch everything else fall into place. Easy as pie.

I’ve compiled a list of sorts. I’m not going to call them resolutions. They are just suggestions or goals for this year (and beyond, I suppose).

Ideally, I’d like there to be 30 items on this list. So, it’s a work in progress. Like me.

  1. No soda. [This is the only real resolution on this list.] I gave up soda for like 8 months once before, but then I started drinking it again. Not only are all those chemicals pretty gnarly, I can only imagine how much money I throw at Pepsico/CocaCola every year. One 20 ounce bottle of soda per day (~$2) equals $730 per year. WHAT?!?! $730?!? And I guarantee you that my actual expenditure on soda per year was more than that. Just doing that math gives me anxiety. I should probably not even think about the dollars and just focus on not drinking soda. #soda
  2. Finally reach my goal weight. Weight. Boo. This is a boring item. Next!  #body
  3. Run a half marathon (and maybe a marathon?). I’M REGISTERED! I’m going to be running the NYC Half Marathon on March 17 for Think Pink Rocks, a breast cancer charity. My 10 week training program starts on Monday. #run
  4. Make a budget and follow it. I’ll just say it: I’m TERRIBLE with money. Awful. Horrible. I’ve never been on a budget (that explains my credit card bills). Part of this budget is going to include not ever using my credit cards ever, ever again (except for emergencies and flights. And shoes. Wait. No. Not shoes. I think. Unless they’re emergency shoes? This is not going to be easy). #budget
  5. Get called back for The Broadway.  And book it. (I’d be happy with a callback first, though.) #broadway
  6. Book a regional job for the summer. I’d like this for no other reason than the fact that New York is absolutely miserable in August. Miserable. But also, really, because I like to act for dollars, much more than I like to do anything else for dollars (uh… like wait tables, you dirty!). And really, I would even act NOT for dollars except that I have this thing about shoes… #summer
  7. Go to Europe (London and Paris). I haven’t been since I studied abroad in 2003 and that is absolutely unacceptable. #europe
  8. Drink less. I’m going to be 30, not 21. My liver and I have had some raucous adventures. It’s time to simmmah down now. (I’m kicking off this initiative with a sober January. Rough.) #temperance
  9. No more drunk texts. If we’re being completely honest here, drunk texts are probably the sole reason that Number 8 of this list exists. That’s all I’m going to say about that. #texting
  10. Cook more. I have enough delivery.com points to get a delivery.com Snuggie. Shameful. I could probably count on one hand the number of actual, non-frozen meals I have prepared for myself in my apartment. That’s pathetic. And also expensive. (I’m not even going to attempt to do the math on food like I did on soda. The money I’ve spent to have someone else make me mediocre chicken pesto paninis and walk them up six flights of stairs to my door is abhorrent.) #cook
  11. Leave the apartment looking like someone loves me. Sometimes I leave my apartment with greasy hair, mismatched clothes, no jacket, and no mascara. People think I’m 12 or I’m homeless. Not really, but I look like I don’t give a shit. Some people can rock that look. I, unfortunately, am not one of those people. #ifeelpretty
  12. Be kind. To others and self. Duh. #kind
  13. Volunteer. Most of the time, I lead a pretty selfish existence. (What do you want from me? I’m a single 20-something living in Manhattan.) Anyway, it’s time for me to think of someone (or something) other than myself. I’m going to volunteer at a no-kill animal shelter (cause we can’t have pets in our building and my roommate doesn’t like animals anyway. So, maybe this isn’t as selfless as I’d hoped. Oh well. I’ll still be volunteering, and that’s what counts!) #volunteer
  14. Get a tattoo. It’s happening. I know what and where. I just have to build up the courage. And the funds. #tattoo
  15. Learn to cook proteins. I can’t cook proteins at all. When I cook chicken, it (no fail) has this weird white film all around it. Gross. Once, I bought rack of lamb at Whole Foods (uh – that shit is EXPENSIVE) and I followed a recipe and… well… I should have just gone out for it. #protein
  16. Learn to make French macaroons. They are just so delicious. And so ridiculously expensive. I bet I could make some bangin’ macaroons. #macaroons
  17. Go on some dates. (Maybe fall in love). I mean who doesn’t want to fall in love, right? I pretty much suck at being on okcupid. I’m going to try and make a better effort at that. I’ll stop not responding to messages that people send to me. At the very least, I’ll have some good tales to tell. #dating
  18. Audition for some plays. I still have grand dreams of playing Juliet someday. I know she’s 14 and I’m 29. Maybe I’ll play her in my retirement home (and Annie, too). I don’t EVER go on play auditions. That is just silly. #audition
  19. Keep my room clean. It’s just so much easier to throw my clothes on the floor when I’m done with them. #room
  20. Wash my face before bed every night. I have a nasty habit of going to bed with my makeup still on (uh… that is, when I actually PUT it on – see Item 11). This is so bad for my skin! And it ages me! And it irritates my eyeballs! Stop it right now! #face
  21. Learn to sew. I think I sort of have aspirations of someday being on Project Runway. That is obviously never going to happen. But I WOULD like to be able to hem my pants and do my own mending. (That makes me think of Little House on the Prairie. Maybe I should add “learn to churn butter” to this list?) My mom sewed her own wedding gown. Can you even?!? #sew
  22. Read one book per month. Don’t laugh at me. I know this is a pitifully low number. I just get so distracted! It’s hard for me to focus on reading when there is internet and TV and bars and coffee shops and sleeping. I’ve been reading Devil in the White City for an embarrassingly long amount of time. #books
  23. Be happy. Duh. #happy
  24. Organize my closets. Really, really organize. Donate, keep, mend, trash piles. Do the backwards hanger trick. Just do it. #closet

Here’s to a classy and fabulous me.

Erin