More balance...

I started a new workout program this week. I wasn't seeing the results I wanted from what I had been doing so I made a change. Bought a book on the anatomy of workouts, they detail the actual muscles and movement so you can really focus on what you need done. They had a fitness test included and after doing that I decided to do their overall workout. It's a good balance of upper and lower body. Added some cardio and a few extra stretches and I was off to the races.

And I have discovered that I am way out of balance.

See this particular routine has pushing exercises as well as pulling. I am not really good at the push away. The pulling in? Three times the weight at least. On Monday as I set up the chest press machine I picked a fairly low weight, I thought, and laid down and pushed and...oh well that's not going to work. So I moved it down a bit. And...nope. A bit more...a bit more...Okay...so what is the least amount of weight I can do on this machine? And then it moved. Holy shit...well that's humbling.

Especially the next day when I felt like my arms had been taken off my body, thrashed around a bit and then reattached. Backwards. They were better enough today that I tried moving the weight up a little bit. Ummm...no.

So on Wednesday as I was working out doing a pull in at the high weight and dreading the move to the push away I thought...Well it kind of fits your personality anyway. I've always been better at bringing things in than pushing them away. I want to touch things. To feel them. To hold them in my arms. To have them. Even things I know I shouldn't have I grab and pull in. Cake. If I didn't pull in so much cake I wouldn't be pushing out so many reps at the gym right?

Anyway, I thought it was kind of symbolic.

But I still need to get the balance in my muscles back. As a former LMT I know how bad it is for you to be out of balance. It pulls your entire body out of whack. So I am working on it. It will eventually get there. Or at least get closer.

Then I started thinking; wouldn't it be wonderful if there was a simple balance test for everything else in life? Like one of those Buzzfeed quizzes maybe. You could take it and then look at the answers and see where you are not paying enough attention. Sure it might hurt a little, but it would get better as you focused on those areas a bit more. Everyone talks about needing balance in their lives, right? How do you make sure you are actually achieving it?

So there's your homework assignment. Look at your life. What is it you really want to do? What do you feel you need to accomplish in your day to feel balanced? Now what are you actually doing? Where are you out of balance? Work on those areas.

You might have to start on the lowest weight, but you'll get there...

You just have to laugh...

Okay, this isn't really a great real blog, but I'm a little off balance right now so it's all I have.

The blog I wrote yesterday has been shared and seen by more people than any other piece I've ever written. Ever.

I told my friend Corrie that if I had known that would happen I would have taken more time with it!

According to Facebook the link reached almost 600 people and I had over 100 unique page views just yesterday. One hundred new eyeballs (200?) on my stuff...I know it's not a lot in the realm of big time writers but for me it's pretty amazing.

But then to balance out that feeling of "wow...what I have to say moved people" I have this.

A family member sent out a mass email to people about something going on in their life. They asked for feedback. I made the mistake of giving it. Even knowing that in the past this person has never really wanted help, they just wanted to...hell I have no idea what they want. But I still thought to myself, they took the time to write out this massive missive and send it out the least I can do is take it seriously and answer it.

Huge mistake. They came back at me guns a blazin' and that is the end of that relationship such that it was.

So friends and some strangers read my opinion and thought, this is valid and someone in my family read my opinion and thought you are full of shit.

Ah life, it's good to have balance!

I am amused and bemused.

And tomorrow I will write something with more substance.

Probably.

On Heroes...

This was going to be a status update on Facebook but then it got too long so it became a blog.

If I were to tell you that my parents are my heroes you would accept that. You would nod and maybe ask why. But you would accept it. You wouldn't feel the need to point out the mistakes that they made. The issues that they didn't quite measure up on. The fact that the areas I admire most in them a lot of other people have as well and have possibly even been through more. You would just say okay and move on.

But for some reason this isn't applicable across the board. On Monday the cover for Vanity Fair came out with Caitlyn Jenner. And people are using heroic to describe the story. ESPN is going to give Caitlyn the Arthur Ashe Courage Award. Marking the accomplishment she made not as Bruce Jenner at the Olympics but as coming out publicly with her struggle in being true to herself and becoming Caitlyn. And people have started to freak out. They don't agree that she deserves it, there is a war veteran who lost and arm and a leg who still competes who was up for the award, surely he deserves it more. There was a young woman who lost her life to brain cancer but still played basketball in college and raised money for her cause, surely she deserves it more. Why in the world would they give the award to Caitlyn Jenner? What has she done?

And then there are the statuses and the memes. Firefighters. Policemen. Armed Forces. These are heroes. Caitlyn Jenner got plastic surgery. That doesn't make her a hero. Or worse, they refuse to use her chosen name and pronouns and stick with Bruce and he. Just to make their point. Which, as far as I can gather, is that they are assholes.

So why is Caitlyn Jenner a hero? What has she done that is heroic? Why does she deserve an award for courage?

Did you know that people who identify as transgender are 28% more likely to be victims of violent crime than gender normative people?

Did you know that 4.6% percent of the total population have attempted suicide but that 41% of transgender teens have?

By opening up about her journey. By telling people this is who I am. This is who I have always been. This is how I feel best. By doing all of those things Caitlyn Jenner has opened herself up to a level of scrutiny that no one really should have to face. People are speculating about her genitalia, her sexual preferences, who knew what and when. Every detail of her life is now open for discussion. That's pretty fucking courageous if you ask me.

But more importantly, MOST importantly. If her cover, and Laverne Cox on the cover of Time magazine, if those images help one person to see that they are not alone? That there is a path for them in the world? That their life is precious and they shouldn't snuff it out too soon? If her story saves lives?

That's pretty fucking heroic to me.

You know?

Growing up in New Mexico we add no to the end of a sentence to make it understood you have options or that we are looking for your agreement.

Did you want to go to the store or no?
He looks all sad no?

The all is also a New Mexico thing. We use all instead of very. All sad, all bad, all sick (which means really good). Just turns of phrase that are local and still used.

Some expressions come in for awhile and then fade out. Trendy. Wazzup? Face! Cherry! Pick any that you can remember. I'm sure they are all the bomb dot com...

Then there are the ones that stick with you. I know, right? We said this one growing up and it made a resurgence a few years ago. I've used it for a long time, not sure that I ever let it go the first time. It's very handy. Less formal than I agree with the point you are making. And also a little more excited. I know, right?!?

Because...science.
Because...reasons.
Because...blogs.

This one is fun but I don't see it lasting. But it has just a touch of snark, a bit of fuck you, and a dash of whimsy. I like it.

But the one that I am really enamored with right now is I can't even. There are the variations I just can't. I can't. But I can't even is the one I love. It's just the perfect phrase for exasperation.

The kids waited until bedtime to tell me they needed a costume for their book report tomorrow. I can't even...

See? You can fill in whatever else you want to that. I can't even believe that they are that forgetful. I can't even understand why sending them out on a ice floe is illegal. I can't even muster up the energy to finish this sentence.

My general moment with I can't even is when I'm reading something that defies logic and common sense. Junk science. Conspiracy theories. Generally I can't even with those things because I know that it's a waste of time. If someone believes the junk science I am not going to be able to convince them they are wrong. They will have links to articles quoting their junk science as facts that will show that it's all a big conspiracy because of reasons...Junk science reasons...I can't even...

Bigotry is another one that will eventually lead me to an I can't even...

You hate someone because they are different than you? That's the whole reason? You believe that someone deserves fewer rights than you do because they are different than you? You cannot treat someone with basic courtesy? And you feel justified in that? Even proud? While you arm yourself in ignorance?

I can't even...

What a woman wants...

She didn't want a man who told her she was beautiful.

She'd been with men who had waxed poetic about her eyes, her hair, her skin.

She didn't want a man who told her she was smart.

She'd been with men who had sworn they were dazzled by her intellect.

She didn't want a man who told her she was funny.

She'd been with men who claimed her laughter was as intoxicating as a fine wine.

She didn't want a man who told her she was sexy.

She'd been with men who had said they were left speechless by her curves.

She'd been with men who had told her all of those things.

She didn't want those men.

The men who told her what a woman wants to hear. 

She doesn't want a man who tells her:

She is beautiful.
She is smart.
She is funny.
She is sexy.

She wants a man who believes...

Dear future you...

My niece is doing this very cool thing for my grand nephew. She is taking the Oh the Places You'll Go book that we bought her for her high school graduation and having his teachers sign it at the end of each of his school years to give to him when he graduates. Along with that she is having us write him letters at the end of each year that she will give to him then as well.

Isn't that cool? I was completely on board with the idea when she asked if we would write him a letter. What a great thing.

Then I sat down to write the letter. What do you say? I'm writing to future him while he is current him. What can I say right now that will matter to him then? Should I talk about what he is like? Should I talk about what I hope for him? And how do I talk to him? He's 6 right now. But he'll be 18 when he gets the letters. Completely different person. So it's a challenge.

Then I started thinking about those Facebook things that go around off and on, "What would advice would you give to your 16 year old self?" or "If you could tell your younger self one thing what would it be?" I don't usually have anything to add to those threads. First off the teenage me wasn't keen on taking advice from anyone. I was forging my own way, dammit, and you just better stand back. And what would you say that would mean anything? I saw one friend who said she would tell her younger self to stay away from Joe. Well, okay, but your younger self doesn't know who that is yet, and will probably meet a lot of Joes. What if they stay away from one that gave them a job? Or a good piece of advice? Or if in staying away from the Joe you meant they didn't learn a really valuable lesson about misplaced trust and ended up with Allen who was MUCH worse?

It's all about the changes that you make. If you could make specific changes that didn't then change everything else you would. But then there would be no point in making the changes in the first place because you wouldn't really be changing anything. So no advice for 16 year old me. And no one thing I would tell my younger self.

But that still leaves me with the letter. Well I kept it fairly short. If I am going to write one of these a year he will end up with 13 from just me and I have no idea how many other people are writing them. And odds are he won't really care right at graduation. He will later. We tend to get more sentimental as we age, so I would expect that when he is starting his own family he will go back to these letters and read them again. Knowing how much his mother loves him, how much planning she put in to this project. That will matter so much more than any words I can write to him.

So I touched a little on who he is right now. A little on what he was doing. A little on what I wished for him and finally a little on the whole challenge of doing the letters. I hope he likes it. I guess we will see. Just 12 more years to go!

(oh and don't worry about this spoiling the surprise, hard to believe but he doesn't read my blog!)

She was perfect...

I met her today.

The other me.

She was so polite. How do you do? So nice to meet you.

She sat up straight and still. No slouching. No fidgeting.

She listened politely. Never interrupting with questions.

Her hands were beautiful. Teeth have never met those nails.

Her shoes were stunning. Not a single scuff mark.

Her outfit was perfect. Everything matched. No tears or stains.

So poised. So lovely. So calm. So perfect.

I memorized everything about her.

How do you do? How do YOU do? How DO you do? HOW do you do? How do you DO?

How did she do that? So calm.

I sat up straight and still. For a minute. But then my foot began tapping to the music I heard.

I tried not to interrupt, but I had so much to ask. HOW do YOU do?

I folded my hands in my lap. Is that paint? How did I get paint on my hand? When did that happen?

How do you DO?

Is that sauce on my skirt? Or more paint? I think it was paint. No sauce. No paint. No wait...juice!

How DO you do?

I looked at her again. She smiled. The other me. The one everyone said I should try to be.

HOW do you DO?

She was perfect.

But she wasn't me.