To do.

Today I made a list of things to help me get back into my grove.

First. Go to yoga. That lovey dovey stretching new agey business make me healthy happy and limber. I need to find my way back to practicing. A class is a good start.

Two, blog. And be positive about it. Use this as my creative, free counseling outlet.

Three, stop the negative self talk. It’s time to get out of this rut I’ve been in. Life has been hard the last year but it’s time to just cut myself some slack.

There’s also a few other reachable goals. Start Couch to 5k. Again. Despite my hatred for running, training for something is good for me. Need the structure.

Finish my last grad school class. Just do it. And then knock out the thesis. Just that simple. Ha.

So there. It’s a plan.

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So what?

The interesting thing about working to accomplish a huge goal, and fulfilling a dream, you ultimiately do it in the middle of living your life which is often a bit bumpy and overwhelmig. So here I am enjoying this fantastic adventure I’ve embarked on while also trying to do it within the confines of my overthinking, control freak self that often feels successful to just make it through the day without considering a nervous breakdown.

Seriously. It’s hard living in my head. And it’s almost like I went into auto pilot for a good year because if I took the controls…my brain would explode or I would cry a lot.

I really have no idea what I’m trying to say here. Just trying to filter through a years worth of chaos in my psyche, and trying to be ok with the fact that settling into my dream life is hard, and that’s normal. I still work, I still have 15 ridiculous pounds that I can ever seem to really shake, I can count my NYC peeps on one hand (and that’s not even using all fingers), I miss my family, and mostly I’m still the same overthinking, confidence lacking woman I’ve always been. Despite the zip code change, that seems to be the one consistent thing I have. And that does make me laugh.

But I think I see the light. Everyday I find a sliver of my old groove, and the exciting thing is that I get my old self (which ain’t too shabby), in this awesome city. I just have to hang in there, keep living life, and it will all fall into place. 

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Eight months and counting.

So yeah I’ve blogged here a whole two times since arriving in NYC. Wow. Ok but in my defense I did totally turn my life upside down, broke it into a million and four pieces, and have been feverishly trying to make sense of it all again in. Man I’m tired.

I’ve been realizing recently that I can’t seem to get the final pieces in their place. Sure I’ve got a job, the apartment is mostly together and the best place to buy groceries has been identified but I’m still looking for the ever needed balance. I’m not productive, don’t want to workout to save my life and cant even dig up an ounce of turn things around. I’m not unhappy or depressed. Or even super lonely. I’m actually pretty content and excited about our adventure but I really just continue to feel out of whack. And maybe out of whack should be expected. I’m just expecting too much too fast. I have only been here eight months. Either way I just want a reboot. You know the ah hah where it all falls into place for awhile.

So in my search for my reboot, and one that doesn’t involve too much money, I thought I would return to the place that lets me get these thoughts out of my head.

And honestly I already feel a little bit better. I suspect in typical fashion I am demanding too much of myself and life. So lets just try to relax. Get some sleep and luckily we all get a “do over” tomorrow.

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The truth.

I realized the perfect content for this blog. The stuff that I can’t post over there because my mother will likely use it against me at some point. Like how I’m not having a good week at all, feeling somewhat depressed and completely overwhelmed with my job (and the three trains it takes to get there). Eddie is sick and I’m not sleeping enough. Blu might be the only one that’s happy right now.

And I suspect if I told her this she would tell her friends I was totally unhappy and coming home soon. When actually I’m just having a bad week. My job is new and I’m struggling to find my place, which is normal and always a challenge. I just have to work through it. And I’m moving next week into a much easier location. All will resolve its self. And we will have shitty weeks here, just like we did there.

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A little free time.

Ha. Who knew. I’ve discovered the most convenient time to blog. While waiting, sitting on and riding the subway. Some people read. I will just ramble. About what, not sure since I’ve got another blog underway that my mom reads.

So guess what I saw today. A man peeing on the sidewalk. Mid-afternoon. Just taking a leisurely piss. Nice. But strangely I was not that shocked. Settling happens quick around here…

And there was the movie shoot I may have accidentally walked through with a guy from Lost in it.

Oh and the tossed salad places are the best thing ever. It’s like a salad bar but they toss it for you. So convenient.

So really maybe this is what you have to read now. Sorry.

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Ahhhhhhhhhh….

In a nutshell. I have a job. We leave tomorrow. My dog keeps peeing on everything. And my mother keeps crying. Oh my.

In order to document this business accordingly, we have set-up a joint blog over at www.esaidcsaid.tumblr.com. Feel free to catch-up on the unfolding madness there.

I think it’s safe to say this blog will continue to lay dormant for awhile…here we go folks…

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Two things.

Okay. Let’s be serious. There are approximately 12,000 things on my mind these days but right now at 12:07am CST there are two things that have been bugging me for the last week that have gotten me out of bed. Granted if sleep would come easily, I would likely continue to ignore them but there was a crap load of coffee at Panera today. So yeah. First I’ve been thinking about posting something on here lately. It’s been a while and my life has officially been turned upside down.

As of May 31st the Jones family became homeless. Not cardboard box homeless, maybe mortgage and rent-less is a more accurate statement. We have entered into…never mind I’m too overwhelmed to remember what phase we are in. Shit. I have to keep reminding myself I even have a plan.

We are living at E’s brothers house. A nice roomy house, with an incredibly laid back guy but it’s a bit of a challenge. The dog. The country. The carpooling commute. The lack of alone time. The fatty foods. But I’m grateful to save up a bit more money and to slowly transition into a whole new way of life.

Our plan is to be out of OKC in early August. So there’s job hunting, apartment panic, and a wealth of other stuff that I’m trying to not think about right now. I’m not particularly excited yet. I’m just really overwhelmed and trying to talk myself off the ledge of uncertainty and too much country food.

And number two, I keep thinking I should call my grandma. My grandma who I love dearly, who is quite possibly the reason you may like me. She’s funny. Kind. Catches wild turkeys. The best biscuit maker around. But I’ve come to recognize that there’s some sort of bittersweet emotional response to my childhood and what she (and those family memories) mean to me. I’m starting to think a counselor might be needed to resolve said paradox. The memories of my childhood and my grandparents on Beaver Mountain are lovely. Love. Fun. Fishing. Digging taters. Fried taters. But there’s also this underlying dread. Maybe it’s the fact that my dysfunctional father is a constant in my life with them. Or that I was a lonely child who felt like she had to please everyone. I’m not sure. But I don’t like it. I feel as if I owe these great people more than my inability to deal with the emotions. But sometimes it’s just easier to ignore it all. And I’m not sure facing it does anything but make my guilt subside and bring up another set of uncomfortable emotions.

And I suspect this is tied to leaving. And how when I told my grandma she said “I don’t know what your grandpa and dad are going to say about this.” And up until this one decision I would have let that dictate what this pleaser did. Keep everyone happy. Just do what you need to do to not upset anyone. Guess what, that never really works out for the pleaser.

She also said, don’t forget about us. All I could say way, Beaver Mountain is in my blood. And it’s true, it’s as much a part of me as my blue eyes.

But at some point, I have to be me, figure out how to let 7-year old Christie rest in peace, and just call my grandma. It is what is.

Really folks. This blog offers nothing other than giving me a place to try to lay out my thoughts. That probably sucks for you…sorry. But at least I’m rarely here, right?

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Weight watching 101.

So today was weigh-in for my fourth week on Weight Watchers. Ai yi yi. I gained a pound.

But in the defense of the 1lb…I did eat a lot of bad things over the last week. One of our great friends was in town and she happens to be a big fan of food and drink. So there was lots of food and drink had in the name of good friends and fun. And guess what…it was worth it. Oh and there was also a little bit of “house for sale” drama in the mix.

So dear 1lb you can thank me for the pizza, cookie, cupcake, fish tacos, 1/2 Republic burger (oh my) and other things that I’ve blocked out. So I’m walking away from this weigh-in, weighing exactly what I weighed after week 1. But I’m going to embrace. Because 5lbs is 5lbs, right?

I have been pondering this diet/healthy eating business a lot though. And I’m happy to say that it is definitely easier this go around. I think for the most part I eat a lot healthier now than I did five years ago (the first time I did WW). So much healthier. But there’s still this issue with sugar. And how I love it. There’s also my inability to deprive myself. It pains me to not eat tasty things that are in front of me. AKA the sugar cookies that I ate on Monday, that I left off my above list. I almost feel ill, or guilty, or unhappy, and I’ve been pondering what the origination of that emotion is. Haven’t completely worked it out in my head but I think it has something to do with my lovely grandma Freda and how I have such wonderful food memories/associations with her and my childhood. I think her food, or food with her possibly communicated love to me. Or has that association. And maybe not eating, or being able to eat it makes me feel rejected or unloved. Almost like shame. This sounds totally wacky. And I’m really just typing out loud here, sorry I should have warned you.

I always suspected the shame was associated with wanting to eat bad things. That I was bad for wanting it. But I think that’s not quite the reason. Hmmm. Going to have to ponder this a bit more.

In the meantime, it was a good day. Work was annoying but when is it not. I ran. I ate well. I cleaned my bathtub. And I got some of my never-ending thoughts out of my ever-thinking head. Thanks blog.

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A favorite.

We watch the Grammys every year. They are like a car crash of questionable music and talent that I can’t stop watching. Last night was not disappointing, between Cee Lo Green and Bob Dylan, I was pretty speechless.

But I love Muse and Mumford and Sons so it was worth it.

While enjoying the pop culture spectacle I remembered my favorite Grammy performance ever. Ever. And the band nerds win.

And in case you care, one of my favorite bands as of late. So amazing live.

As you would expect, I’ve been thinking lots about roller derby and the avoidance of cookies. But I’m going to save that for another day because it’s the big V-day, there’s lovely music in my world and my couch is soft and fluffy.

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Had an offer. Lost an offer.

Got an offer on the house today and by 9pm it was gone. Ahhhhhhhhh! Long story but something about the patio.

And I ate a hot fudge sundae.

Not the best day.

Here’s to a happenin’ Monday.

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