The First Five

I've been thinking a lot since my last post. Specifically I've been thinking about what you guys had to say about my last post; about having to like yourself, right now, not in a year, or 50 lbs from now. So over the past few days I've been pondering,plumbing the depths, getting my introspection on, and trying focus on things I like about myself. It's been harder to do than I thought it would be. I don't know if that's because I'm uncomfortable saying out loud the things that I like about myself (it feels like bragging, or being snobby and shallow), or that when I say those things, they ring hollow, and I don't really believe what I'm saying. Conundrum!

So I tasked myself to come up with 5 things (physical or otherwise) that I genuinely like about myself. My old therapists would be so proud. It's taken a week, and I'm still not sure how I feel about putting them out there, out here, but here it goes:

I like my eyes. They're kind eyes. Blue, but they change in intensity depending on what I'm wearing or if I'm pissed off, and sometimes they look kind of green. They remind me of the colors of the ocean, which is kind of cool because my name means 'star of the sea'.

I'm a really good listener. I feel honored and needed when someone trusts me enough to unload. It happens a lot, I think I put people at ease( that might be considered another "thing", but I think it's part of what makes me a good listener) Even if I can't offer any advice or solutions, I find it easy to empathise with people, and I can tell that they feel better for sharing whatever it is they have on their mind.

I like my hair. It's long and naturally curly, and while it's thinner than it used to be it's still really full and thick. I even like the color; a kind of reddish brown that with a little help from Loriel, can go a deep auburn. A friend once told me I had "princess hair". I know, it's totally vain, and I feel extraordinarily silly and sheepish writing about it, but its the one part of my physical self that I feel like I can flaunt.

When I put my mind to it I am a pretty good cook. I learned from watching my father, he did all the cooking when I was growing up, still does as a matter fact. He does amazing things with food. We haven't always had the best relationship,so the affinity I feel with him when I cook is very important to me. I don't do it very often, but I love getting in my kitchen and experimenting with different recipes. This past winter the Tapdancer and I had a ball dunking homemade cranberry orange biscotti(my own variation on my grandmother's recipe) into thick dark melted chocolate. Watching people enjoy what I've made is very satisfying. It feeds my soul. Perhaps I should do it more often.


I like my sense of humor. I'm funny dammit! Okay, so it may not come across here, but trust me, this is funny stuff. I love to laugh, and when I'm the one who's made the funny, all the better. I love those rare giggle fests, the ones where you laugh so hard you can't catch your breath, tears are streaming down your face, and you might even snort. I can be bawdy when the situation arises, and I pride myself on being able to hang as the only woman in my department. I get all the tasteless jokes and emails, and it is a constant source of amazement to my co-workers that I don't get offended. Bonus points if I can shock the hell out of them.


So there it is. The first five. I don't know if this little exercise actually helped or not, but it did bring to light just how hard I am on myself, all the time. That little voice loop that runs in my head is almost all negative. I don't know who gave the mic to the critical bitch in my head, but damn, she needs to shut the fuck up.

I have no idea what I want to be when I grow up.

I am not unique in the fact that I do not work in the field in which I received my degree. My undergrad degree is in psychology, and as much as I would have liked to go on and get my graduate degree, the lack of academic focus during my college years (all eight of them if that tells you anything), pretty much clinches the fact that graduate school is out of the question.

I currently work investigating and resolving billing issues for clients my company provides services for. It's cube dwelling at it's most glamorous, let me tell you. It's not horrible (much), and it certainly pays the bills, but it is by no means fulfilling, nor does it scratch any kind of creative itch I might have. So the question is always out there, just beyond my Monday through Friday grind; "What do you want to be when you grow up, Chanda?". I still don't know. Can Lady of Leisure be considered a career?

So, a year or so back I started looking into taking some computer classes at the local community college, more to up my skills and marketability than to branch out into something new. I found I could get a two year degree in something called Office Systems Technology ( I think that's just a fancy term for office manager, but it fit the bill in terms of what i needed in terms of skilz). So I signed up, sent in my registration, and picked the first two classes needed for the degree. I don't know if someone fat fingered my information or fate stepped in and said "no no, you're going to do THIS" , but two weeks before class was to start I got my schedule. I was a proud member of the Web Technologies program and howdeedoo, here are your first two classes. What?

I called the registrar's office and spoke to a very candid,very friendly woman who told me in no uncertain terms that yes I could change it back. All you have to do is come to campus, stop by the Registrar's office, get the appropriate paperwork, find your advisor, have him or her sign this and that,and bring it all back to the Registrar's office, and Honey,wouldn't it just be better to see if you liked Web Technologies? Point taken.

What the hell, I figured I would stay put for the time being, try something new, and see if my brain had atrophied or not since the last time I was in school. Turns out it had. I don't know if it's age or just the subject matter, but I found it all so much harder to absorb. I also discovered I resent the time I have to spend working on homework. It take much longer than I think it should, and it frustrates the hell out of me;and at the risk of sounding like my grandfather,these classes are all full of teenagers and twenty-somethings that have basically been weaned on inner mysteries of all things computer.

Welcome to the portion of the program where I drown in a giant pool of self inflicted insecurity.You knew it was coming,right? I've taken an introduction class to C++ ,an HTML class,and a Dreamweaver class, and Ive done well in all of them, but I don't feel like I've learned anything I can apply to actual web design. When does that start? When do I start to feel competent? This semester Im taking first of two graphic design classes, and Im both excited and trepidatious at the same time. I'm dying to learn the ins and out of Photoshop, how to make banners and buttons and learn how it all fits into designing a web sit. But these (online) classes move so quickly, I don't feel like I've mastered one skill before we're off on another. I've never had trouble learning anything before. I feel like the kid in the back of the class who eats paste.

Thoughts of quitting have crossed my mind more than once. It's usually what I do when something gets too hard, when I can't do something perfectly the first time out. How depressing is that? It's that realization that keeps me honest, at least where school is concerned. I may falter, whine, stomp my feet, drop a class, take a semester off,then whine some more; but I am determined to finish this, see where it take me, even if takes me nowhere at all.

So be prepared, class starts in August, and before you know it these pages will be full of bitches, gripes, tears, and of course your classic "I don't feel like working so I'm blogging posts". It could be worse, I could blog about cat vomit again.

We interrupt our previously scheduled post.....

When I started this blog back in November one of my primary goals was to focus a fair portion of my writing on my desire to get healthy and loose weight; to write about the struggles, learning experiences and small victories along the way. I have blogged here and there about it, but have not given it the attention I intended to in the beginning. This is largely due to the fact that I've found writing about my weight, and all that it entails, feels alot like standing in a crowded room. Nekkid. With no clothes on. And everyone is waiting for the monologue I was supposed to have memorized but left in my jeans pocket - which I don't have - because I'm Nekkid. So, Ive written about other things, or, as my blog entry numbers will tell you, not at all.

This, I hope, is about to change. I will still be writing about other stuff, you know, Life the Universe, and Everything, but also more of the weight stuff. My trip to Anguilla, while a lot of fun, was sort of an eye opening experience. I kept having this nagging feeling that "this could be so much better if...". Coming back to my empty little house in the middle of a cold January night was also kind of a jolt. A kick in the rubber parts, so to speak, to try to get my body in shape and my personal life in gear.

Ive been reading a lot of blogs lately by fascinating, strong, wonderful women who are all facing the same challenges I am. Some have more to lose than I do, some have less, some have already made it, some are well under way, but all of them have wisdom and support to impart in their stories. One such woman, Diana, over at Scale Junkie, started a "Healthy You Challenge" for 2008. You get to decide what your definition of healthy is, and how to get there. The idea being that everyone who joins takes on the challenge of becoming healthier this year, and by joining you get the added bonus of the support of all these other women.

So, Ive joined. And each Tuesday I'll be blogging about my progress, or lack there of. See my nifty button over there? I'm rather pleased about it. So, anyhoo - here goes nothing, or everything, depending on how you look at it.

Whine and Cheese

I read an interesting article over at Oprha.com (working real hard!) about venting and/or complaining continually about things you find unacceptable. Whether it be work, a troublesome friend or spouse, or *cough* weight, this article has some thought provoking ideas.

Basically it said that contrary to popular belief, venting about a situation is not as healthy as one might think. It basically allows you to release just enough emotional pressure to keep you in whatever situation is causing you stress, but does not actually effect change.

Wow. Kind of a simplistic concept, but it makes some sense, and I’ve honestly never thought about it that way. I feel like I do nothing these days except complain about what’s not right in my life, particularly my weight. Is this constant release of “steam” keeping me just comfortable enough to keep things status quo? Not that I would call my weight comfortable, but it’s safe.

This article challenges the reader to go on a “venting fast” for a predetermined amount of time, and see if that energy can be channeled and used the impetus for personal growth and change. There are rules, of course, and evidently a step not to be taken lightly. The article warns of the possibility for all that unreleased steam to expand and eventually explode. Who knows who could get wiped out in the storm? The rules involve a lot of journaling (hmmm, would blog entries count?), and finding at least one productive way to overcome whatever that day’s frustration was.

This all got me thinking about what I’ve been doing about my weight and my life for the past, oh I don’t know, DECADE or so, and the sad answer to that is – nothing. But man do I complain about it. A lot. It’s almost embarrassing. I’ve been whining about my job, my weight, my status as a singleton, my house, my parents, and my oh my how I do go on. And nothing has changed, in fact, in a few areas, things have gotten alarmingly worse.

Serious food for thought, and not a moment too soon, as today’s blog was going to be yet another spectacular whine about this weekend’s binges and the feelings of guilt and self loathing it produced. Perhaps it’s time for a paradigm shift.

If you want to read the entire article you can, here.

Garden State

I watched Garden State last night for the umpteen millionth time, and if you haven't already seen it, go watch it. Seriously. Tonight, go watch it. It has to be one of the best movies ever made. It stars, and was written and directed by Zach Braff. Natalie Portman stars in it as well, and she her usual brilliant self. Even if you never see the movie(which would be a bad bad idea), the soundtrack is amazing. The Shins, Paul Simon, Nick Drake, Coldplay, come on- it just doesn't get any better than that.

Andrew Largeman returns to his home town in New Jersey to attend his mother's funeral, he hasn't been back in nine years, and he hasn't been without heavy medication since he was a child. He chooses this week to stop taking all his medication as he is beginning to suspect he's missing something.

Anyway, without giving away anymore of the plot,the movie is all about waking up. Waking up and experiencing your entire life, and all it entails; all its beauty, and all its pain without apology.

It's an idea I find myself knocking around a lot lately - to shrug off whatever insular cloak one wraps around oneself, and really live, feel, and experience life with clarity(and hopefully with more than just a little kindness and insight). By doing so you open yourself up to the possibility of love, in all its beautifully flawed and dysfunctional guises.

I like that idea.

Good luck exploring the infinite abyss!.

Black wind Blowing.

Yesterday I was restless. All day long pacing around my house pretending to clean, but never focusing on any one task long enough to do anything other than leave finger traced notes across my piano. Dust Me.

It felt like those energized moments right before a big storm. Everything is still, but you can feel the atmosphere building pressure.

A drawing of breath before a primal scream.

I imagine how an alcoholic must feel when faced with giving up booze. To have to give up something used to comfort, and to numb. The idea of letting go, of living my life, feeling my emotions, no longer diluted by the protective haze of food fills me with a nauseating dread that boarders on panic. Oh, wait - that is panic.

The actual paradigm shift I have to make to be able to do this has to happen now. If I don't do this now nothing will change and I will never....anything. I will be stuck in this dusty cage of my own making. Bring on the storm.

Little Miss Chicken Little

I've wanted to start a blog for some time now, ruminating over it for so long my best friendThe Tapdancing Ms. B started one with me as a show of support. She managed to get hers up and running a full month before I got around to mine.

One could infer that I'm a horrible procrastinator(and one would be correct!), but I think there was more to my reticence than just being lazy(and again, I am that too).

The nano-second I posted my first blog entry I immediately wanted to take it down. I was overwhelmed with insecurity. Is it too personal? Is it too melodramatic? Will people think it's stupid? Is my writing so horrible that the blog police will knock on my door in the middle of the night to arrest me and steal the letters from my keyboard? Will people like it? Like me? And then it hit me.

I'm a big chicken shit-no really, I am. I have realized that I let fear run a big portion of my life. I'm neurotically afraid of what people will think(and god forbid someone actually confronted me), so I stay quiet. Afraid of failing, so I attempt nothing. Afraid no one will love me for who I am, so I make sure I find every fault with them and reject them first.

Ms.B is forever teasing me about how I'm always shushing her in public, and its true, I do. I'm so worried about drawing attention to myself that I try to make her tone down her amazingly warm- draw-you-in personality. She really should just smack me up side the head and tell me to get over it. But, as she knows me well, she knows I'm channeling my mother and can't help myself. So, she humors me(with the understanding that she can, and will give me large rafts of poo about it later). It's ironic, really, since it was her dynamic personality that compelled me to tap her on the shoulder 20 years ago in a poetry writing class, and ask her to work on a project our professor had assigned. She turned me down, but we started chatting as we walked across campus, and we've been friends ever since.

Back to this blog thang. It may not always be funny, or insightful, - hell, it may not even be coherent at times, but its mine. It's me, in all my scatter brained glory. So, in the spirit of self empowerment and not giving a flying hoo-ha what people think, I'm not going to hit that big red delete button just yet. Judge me, don't judge me - I'll try not to care.

Jumping In

I turned 40 this year.
40.
Forty.
Holy crap!
How did I get here? I look in the mirror and see an overweight single woman who has no idea who she is. I don’t feel like I’ve grown into the person I am supposed to be. Way back when there was this amazing person to nurture, and bring to her fullest potential, but the small, dark hearted side of me locked her away, and whispered damaging untruths, until she believed, then finally became the damaged goods I see in the mirror every morning. But I don’t want to dwell on that. Aside from being overly dramatic, my penchant for dwelling on the negative; on what I’m not, rather than what I am, on what I don’t have, rather than on what I do has been a large contributor to my current existential crisis.

What I want to focus on now (and the impetus behind baring my soul to the blogosphere - lucky you!) is how to unlock that metaphorical door, and let my true self out ('cuz damn, she really has to pee). I want to get to know her, become that person I denied myself access to so long ago. I suspect she’s a pretty cool chick. I want to unite what I see as my fractured physical, emotional, and spiritual selves into one well adjusted, happy, thinner me.

Pretty sentiment, yes,but how do I do that?

I’ve been thinking a lot about that lately ,and what I keep coming back to is writing. Honest- no holds barred- writing. It’s all up for grabs; my past, my present, my future, whether it be painful, embarrassing, or funny, I want to put it out there to try to understand who I am, and change myself for the better. Writing is also a great creative outlet, and anyone who knows me, knows I’m always whining about wanting to be more creative. So here I am, not whining (much), writing.

So, welcome to my little corner of the Internet, here’s to belly flopping into the deep end of the pool. Come on in, the water’s fine.