I don't know how to say this, but...

I don't have a hell of a lot to say. Surely this cannot come as a huge shock to any of the 12 of you following this somewhat sorryass blog. But some of you may be wondering, "what IS this blog for, anyway? Does SHE even know?" 

The answer is, hmmm...I'm not sure. The only thing that's certain here is that I'm attempting to remain focused on several goals I'd like to accomplish by the end of the year - and by stating these things in semi-public (or, again, to this select jury of 12), I'm hoping to hold myself to these goals. 

What are my goals for this year? I have just 2, but they're big: 

1. Get back in shape and shed 15 lbs;

2. Make some music and play some shows again.

I said it here, so I have to stick to it. That's my thinking, anyway.

The thing is, I don't have a whole lot to say about it all. So I'm finding myself wondering why the hell I'm "blogging" (god I hate that word as a verb) when I don't really have much to share with you kind folk on the innernettes. Will you forgive me if I post infrequently? Will you trust that I'm not quitting (on you or on myself) if I don't check in as regularly as most "normal" bloggers (wow, I hate it even more as an active noun)...? Am I a pretty big loser for thinking this is a good way to keep myself motivated?

Regardless of the answers to those questions, I'mma go ahead and post sporadically anyway. So THERE. I showed YOU.

Well, you ARE 38...

Yesterday, I went to my doctor to discuss the results of a brain MRI. It sounds a lot scarier than it is - I had the MRI because of a long history of migraines and sinus troubles. The good news is, my brain looks completely healthy. There was no bad news. The NP said, "you have a little arthritis in the left jaw, some TMJ." I had suspected the TMJ part, since sometimes when I yawn, my jaw does something utterly horrifying: it locks WIDE OPEN. I can't imagine what that must look like, but I digress. Basically, I didn't know TMJ was arthritis. So I said, "arthritis?" Her response?


"Well, you ARE 38..."


What do you mean, "you ARE 38"??? Last time I checked, this wasn't an age at which people begin making their final arrangements, preparing to shuffle off this mortal coil. 


You may have figured out, this post isn't about arthritis at all. I'm cool with the TMJ thing. I just wonder if these days, we're making people older...younger. We live in a culture obsessed with youth, and that's nothing new. But slow it DOWN. About a month ago, I was looking at a brochure that outlined all the recommended surgical procedures for women, broken down by decade. Sure enough, the recapturing of youth via surgical intervention began in the teens. Say it with me: what the fuck?????


My OB-GYN is rather quick to remind me of my age, too. All that's missing in that office is an outsized hourglass that allows you to actually HEAR the grains of sand racing to the bottom half of the glass.


SLOW IT DOWN, guys! Yeah, I AM 38. I'm not 78! I'm still pretty young, god damn it! Don't get me wrong - I have regular panic attacks about whether I've wasted my entire youth, and I frequently ask myself, "is this ALL?" But I'm not ready to give the understanding head nod when someone acts like arthritis is all the rage at my advanced age. There's plenty of time to start arranging my meds in a pill reminder strip. Can I finish my 30s first, please?

Demonic Discs of Temptation

I'm looking to lose 15 pounds this year. That's one of the things on my "stuff I'm not going to quit" list. Before anyone tells me "shut up, you're not fat" - I know I'm not fat. I just want to get myself back into shape, and maybe shed a little of the extra. My soul won't be crushed if I don't lose 15 lbs., but I'd like to try and do it.


Here's what doesn't help: fucking OREOS. Seriously, what is in these things, and why does my aunt keep buying them for my dad to bring to the office? CUTITOUT. I can't eat ONE Oreo. It's physically impossible, and against the laws of both science and nature. Even two feels like deprivation sometimes.


Why are Oreos so awesome? And, while I'm at it...why the hell is CHEESE so awesome? What about Bison Dip? I have Prader-Willie when Bison Dip is in the vicinity. I literally cannot sit down with "a few" chips and some Bison Dip and just be satisfied with that. I might as well just put on a lobster bib and throw down when it's anywhere near me, because I'm not going to be stopping at a reasonable point.


There's really no point to this particular blog entry. I just wanted to ask the universe why there are certain food items that exist solely to fuck with me. I mean, there's not ONE ounce of nutrition in half the things that taste awesome...and these are generally the kinds of foods that are completely addictive. WHY, LAWD???


If it takes me longer than I want to lose 15 pounds, you can blame Oreos. And my Aunt Lynne.

checkin' in...

Hey kids, haven't had much to say for a few days, but I'm checking in to assure the handful of you who may be reading that THIS filly has not done any quitting. w000t! That's right - I'm still working on my Mama Obama arms, still exercising regularly, and attempting to eat sensibly without resorting to any of my old, obsessive ways. 


That's all for now. More soon...

Baby Got Back

When the hell did my BACK get fat? Seriously, wtf? Needless to say, I'm on a mission now, because I have a LOT of backless Mara Hoffman dresses in my closet. This reeks of middle-school-locker fodder, but I've kept this picture of buff Buffy around to remind me of my goal: to be the one, chosen every generation...no, seriously, to have a killer back.


I use free weights a lot, so I've added all these dorky looking "lat" exercises to my routine, in my quest to undo whatever the hell made my BACK all out of shape and grody looking. So, in addition to my Michelle Obama arms, I hope to attain an amazing Sarah Michelle Gellar back...minus the tramp stamp. Wish me luck. My arms are killing me.

Lilias, Yoga & You

This 1970s yoga show pissed me off. As a child, I didn't want to see some woman with an overly long braid, wearing a onesie, doing yoga at ungodly hours of the morning. I wanted my Sesame Street, and I wanted my Electric Company. Lilias, Yoga & You was a harbinger of doom. It meant boring television for the foreseeable future.


But that's not my point. My point is, I'll never be someone who gets up at 5 a.m. to do any type of exercise, no matter how peaceful yoga may be. There's nothing that should be done at 5 a.m. that doesn't involve me sleeping. Me + mornings = no.


I'm never going to be that person who gets up and goes running BEFORE work. I've made peace with the fact that my physical activity will always take place after work - or, on days off, after I'm good and ready to get out of bed. I've vowed to stick to my plans this year (this is where the blog thing comes in), and to get my body back into shape. This in no way involves getting up early to work out.


Oh, know this: I'm also never going to be that person who talks about how awesome it is to work out, and how empty I feel if I haven't worked out in 24 hours. Because let's face it: working out kinda blows. If I had my druthers, I'd return to the days of sitting on my ass, eating chips and Bison dip, watching crappy television, and weighing 105 lbs. regardless. Alas, that's not to be. I've accepted that exercise is something I HAVE to do, because my body is getting all, "yeah, this is what happens when you act like you're still 25." Ugh, THANKS, body.


So anyway, I'll work out and I'll stick to it (with your help!) but don't expect any early morning antics, or any 5 a.m. yoga to "clear my mind" and prepare me for the day. Lilias, Yoga & Me? Bitch, please.

Why I'm Here

Here's my story, in a nutshell:


I'm kind of a quitter. My theory is that this is one of two things that happens when you're a little ball of stress as a child, then an adolescent, then a teenager. Some people become ambitious, and others become...well, lazy. I'd like to change that, at least a little. That's why I'm here.


One of my best friends just started a blog called Me On A Diet. This morning, I was rollerskating (you heard me correctly) and I thought, I need to copy Shaun. If he can publicly whip himself into shape - set his goals and then MAKE himself do it - then so can I. Right? 


Maybe.


That's the thing about me: I start things, and I don't always finish them. I've quit just about every kind of lesson you can imagine...I've quit writing songs...I've quit recording them...I've quit ballet...I've quit the gym almost as often as I've joined it...Why? I don't know, but I have to quit.


I'm forcing myself to write down some thoughts so that by the end of 2010, I can say I've done a few of the things I wanted to do. That's why I'm here.