Sunday, January 30, 2011

The Bearded Runner

I have decided to grow a beard.

Not the Salma Hayek I-shaved-my-face-so-I-can-grow-a-moustache kind for her role in Frida.



Although, kudos to her for taking the role so seriously.  But bummer she has to wax her lip for the rest of her life.

No, I'm talking a bona fide, full-on Grizzly Adams beard.


I just wanted you to know.

Second topic, I completed my 8 mile run today.  Outside.  Remember my "rant" about no sunshine in Madison in months?  How I was begging for decent temps and a ray of sunshine for my run today?

Well, Madison made me proud.




See that sunshine?  That beautiful, amazing sunshine?  Wow.

To honor this perfect day, I also took a moment and just soaked it in...with my very own "Sun Pose"/thank you salutation.


I miraculously finished 8 miles, although it was a bit of a struggle fitness-wise.  I walked a bit to catch my breath.  My rib cage is sore after WTF class yesterday.  Much more sore than I anticipated.  I stuck with it though, and it was worth it.  I did a lot of good thinking on this run, and I almost caught a glimpse of the 'old' me...almost.

You may now be wondering - what's the deal with the beard?  Well, the two topics are related, I promise.

In typical Madison style, there were a lot of people out today.  It was 29 degrees, but I spotted a lot of runners on the arboretum course.  All of them men.  All of them with beards.

I was wearing the turtle fur you see above...however during my running I had it up over my mouth and nose to protect my face from the cold, harsh air.

The men?  No turtle fur.

I had to rotate the turtle fur every mile or so to move the wet icky area away from my face and start fresh.

The men?  Still donning the same beard.

I have decided in the entirety of all things unfair between men and women...the beard as a protective face layer in the elements is my current fixation.

I want one.  Just when I run.  And maybe occasionally in those rare moments where I am contemplating life so I can scratch it while I look out into the distance and seem even more philosophical...

I guess I will simply settle for 2 things that made me happy today:  Sunshine and 8 miles.

Saturday, January 29, 2011

TRX = WTF

Saturday is cross-training day on the current IronMin training schedule.  3 days of running and 1 rest day in the can this week so far.  X-training had the makings of an adventure.

Because I like to embarrass myself...I mean, try new things...I went to my very first TRX class today.

From this moment forward, TRX shall be henceforth known throughout the land (or at least, to the readers of this blog) as -

WTF.

WTF class was held from 8:30-9:10 this morning in the upstairs balcony of a fire station.  With real, live, working, fire trucks.  And lots of fire fighting type gear.  Plus it had a real, live, working firefighter mopping the floor, not exactly loving the fact that a bunch of triathletes and other assorted crazies were trekking in the sidewalk salt to come in for a workout.   I smiled anyway.

I am friendly even in the face of fear.

There was a firefighting boat in there too.  I am not sure how many fires erupt spontaneously on our lakes, but I guess if Nirvana can sing a song about a lake of fire, it must be possible.

It's where bad folks go when they die, apparently.  In case I lost you along the way.  It looked pretty new and hardly if ever used, so I guess there must not be a lot of bad folks in Madison.  Or we just don't care so much about sending the firefighters out to save them.  There's a philosophical debate in there somewhere.

Back to WTF class.  I have decided to appraise the class using the ultra-sophisticated rating scale:

Me Likey/Me No Likey/Deal-Breaker

Yes, I just invented it.  Yes, it is very highly regarded & technically superior. Yes, that feeling churning in your gut is normal. It's called jealousy.

Strap yourselves in (look, I made a little joke) for the inaugural edition of the rating scale on WTF...
Straps hanging down from the ceiling for me to hang on?  Me Likey
Being told I can't swing or even sway on them? Me No Likey
Supporting Argument: Why would you hang things from the ceiling and NOT let me swing from side to side like a tire swing and try to leap off the balcony?  Fun police.
Superman planks?  ME NO LIKEY 
With caps, for the appropriate amount of emphasis.
Pulling my leg up by the strap to go into a deep stretch?  Me Likey
Plank with my toes in the straps, again with the strict no swaying rule?  Me No Likey
The right leg, left leg lungy dance move while holding the straps with my hands?  Me Likey
Editor's Note: It's the first class so clearly I have no idea what these moves are supposed to be officially called.  
Being told for about the 7th time to keep my butt down while doing the crunchy moves in the toe straps?  Me No Likey
Supporting Argument:  She had a microphone.  Everyone heard about my butt insubordination. Why can't I be more coordinated?
Leaning forward with my hands in the straps and doing the stepping moves? Me Likey

No Deal-Breakers this time.

The workout for my core?  ME LIKEY


Couple more sessions and I will be coming up to you and shouting in your face, "PUNCH me in the stomach!  DO IT!  DO IT!  Come on!  PUNCH ME AS HARD AS YOU CAN!  It's like a ROCK!  Feel that?  ABS OF STEEL!"

Where has WTF training been all this time?  I just found out you can actually order the system for your home.  If I do, I'm creating my own tire swing, jumping off move that I shall henceforth call...

IronMin's WTF Signature Move.

Ok, I have a little time before I have to finalize the name.  I'm going back to that class though.  I'm hooked.  WTF has just right the balance of fun and OMG - I'm shaking - Can't hold this move for another second - This feels great - Is that an ab muscle popping out?

Me Likey.  If you haven't tried it yet, I highly recommend it. Just don't steal my signature move.

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Caution: Annoying Complaining Runner

You've been warned.

I've been running.

Hold for applause.

Ok, so maybe that isn't newsworthy.   I am supposed to be running.  I am supposed to be training.  I am supposed to be enthusiastic about the plan.

I'm not.

I am trying to be.  And after each run...I do feel good.  About myself.  About getting back to the plan.

It's the 'getting on the treadmill' part that I am not enthusiastic about.  On the treadmill, 5 miles is my limit.  Major meltdowns of the I can't possibly take another step variety happen past 5 miles.

These meltdowns are generally followed by shooting tears, curse words, and a vow to move somewhere where treadmills do not exist...a place where every day is 70 degrees and sunny...a place of rainbows and unicorns and...

Well, you get it.

It's kind of like the motto "nothing good happens after midnight" at the bar. Nothing, and I mean, nothing good happens when the treadmill hits 5.01 miles.

I am an absolute terror on the treadmill.  I cannot stay consistent, which if you think about it long enough, makes NO SENSE.  If you can't be consistent when the pace is literally set by the belt flying by underneath your feet...well, then there's just no hope for you.

I mean, me.  No hope for me.

Here's my typical treadmill routine:
Start at 3.8mph - Warm up for a few minutes
Crank it up to 6.5mph.  This is fast.  This is really fast.  Ouch.  I can't breathe.  Is that a side-stitch?  Crap.
Back down to 3.8mph - Just to catch my breath
Ratchet back up to 6.3mph.  This feels great.  Rhythm is easy and I feel like a gazelle.  Hey, is that knee pain?  My right knee hurts.  Crap.  I have 18 more weeks of this.  I need to take it easy.
Back down to 4.0mph - Man, I'm such a wimp.  I can't even handle 6.3.
Up to 6.1mph - Just need to hold it here for 3 songs on the iPod.  Oh man, I totally hate this song.  Let's see what's next.  Hate this one too.  What playlist am I on?
Hit pause on the treadmill.
Rotate through iPod playlists.  Wow, I have nothing to listen to.  More than 5.000 songs and yet not a single thing to listen to.
Restart treadmill.
My shoe is untied.
Hit pause.
Tie shoe.
Look around the gym to see if anyone I know has walked in.  Nope.
Restart treadmill.
Let's try 6.0mph...

Yes, I am pretty much the most annoying person you will ever run next to at the gym.  Although if you hang on long enough, I will either trip, whack my hand on the handrails, or fall off.

It's worth the wait.

So, this weekend I have an 8 mile run on the schedule in my very early stages of marathon training and I am just praying that the weather in Madison will be positive degrees vs. negative, and would it kill the state - would it really kill it - to throw us a ray of sunshine???

Seriously.  Just one ray. Or even a "Ray of Sunshine Coming Soon" message across the gray, low-hanging, heavy sky would be adequate.

I'm done complaining.  For the moment.

Next week I start swimming.  Stay tuned.  I love swimming but have a more than normal dislike for the 5am wake-up call.  There will be complaining people.

I'm sorry in advance.

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Monday, January 24, 2011

Turn it off

Sometimes I wish my brain had an off switch.

It.Just.Never.Stops.  There are memories, thoughts, and feelings I would do anything to avoid right now.  Anything.  Yet I can't.  

There is no escape.  A million different things in my life seem to trigger the unexpected release of another unwelcome memory.  It doesn't matter where I am, what I'm doing, or what I was actually thinking about before it happens. I can be hanging out with friends or running errands alone...working or working out...watching a movie or even, writing.  

There is no escape.

I can't even catch a break when I sleep.  My dreams are haunting, and that's when they don't evolve into nightmares.  I habitually wake up in a cold sweat, sometimes gasping, sometimes crying...it takes several moments of quietly staring into the darkness to collect myself, remind myself that this is reality, tell myself that even the worst hurts can be healed.  

The memories come rushing in and I can't stop them.  I only now realize I have not dealt with a lot of what I have been through.  I repressed so much. I pushed down the deepest hurts and turned away from the biggest betrayals. And now, I can't escape.  Each memory wants a chance on stage. I'd rather shut the production down, close the curtain, and walk away from the theater.
   
Yet I can't.  And, though it pains me to admit it, I shouldn't.

I first berate myself then forgive myself, every single day, for not moving on faster.  Usually, many times a day.  I have resolved that I am weaker than I want to be.  I wish I could be the girl who picks herself up, brushes herself off...then walks on proudly with her head held high.

I am not that girl.

I am the girl who takes a 1/2 step forward then 3 steps back.  The girl who fights back tears when confronted with her heartbreak.  I am the girl who panics and has to close her eyes and count to ten when she gets hit with another memory.  The girl who has to keep a running dialogue in her head of personal affirmations like, "you can do this"; "this will get easier"; "you can handle this"; "you will make it through".

I am the girl who hides behind a smile and a laugh so no one will really know how vulnerable and raw she feels inside.  The girl who has all but retreated into the corner, yet still gets up every morning with just enough venom to fight her way back out. 

I am the girl who nods and looks away when his name comes up.  The girl who tries valiantly to pretend it doesn't hurt like hell. I am the girl who trusted too hard, gave too much, and walked away with her heart in her hands.  I am the girl standing alone.    

Whenever I'm asked how I am doing now, I have surrendered to a somewhat convincing "I'm ok".  I no longer want to be a burden.  I no longer want to talk about it.  I no longer want to think about it.  

I don't know how long it will take before I can get through an entire day without taking those 3 steps back.  Or even only 2.  I am holding onto hope that maybe tomorrow, I will take a full step forward.  A full step.

I want to be that girl.


Can't help but smile

This has been traveling through the viral online world and I'm sure most people have seen it at least once.  However, in honor of Monday, which is historically a bit of challenge overall, I decided to post it here.

I go to my happy place every time...



Home - Edward Sharpe and The Magnetic Zeros Acoustic Cover (Jorge & Alexa Narvaez)

Sunday, January 23, 2011

2011 Training Plan

March 13: Shamrock Shuffle 10k

April 30: Crazylegs Classic 8k












May 7: Lake Monona 20k Run






May 29: Madison Marathon


June 18: High Cliff Half Ironman Triathlon

July 28-31: Make A Wish 300 Mile Ride


August:  Top Secret...more to come



Thursday, January 20, 2011

I need a sign

I find an odd comfort in horoscopes.  Some people believe very strongly in them.  I am not one of those...however, not a day goes by that I don't check mine.

Almost always at the end of the day.


I guess I hold off because I prefer to let every single day unfold as it will without any preconceived notions on my part of how it might turn out.  I do believe in self-fulfilling prophecy and if I started each morning with the knowledge of what my astrological sign told me the day should be, I would likely steer it that way unconsciously.  And I easily admit, I am not always the best judge of what is right for me.


So instead, I check the current day at the end of the day, usually before I go to bed.  It's a good gut-check on whether or not there is any science behind the art.


Today was challenging.  I confronted my broken heart twice face-to-face and the aftermath was rattling to my core.  To balance the ever-appearing reminder of my hurt, I also had a few wonderful, light-hearted moments that I characterize in the "what-if" category.  Just enough to make the day bearable as I daydream about a different road.


So tonight I read my horoscope -

Aries
By Rick Levine
You continue to move toward a powerful turning point in your life, yet now it feels even closer than ever before. However, you're not necessarily at ease because your habitual patterns have already started to change. The problem is that your new vision hasn't yet taken form. Although you may be annoyed that the process is taking so long, resign yourself to progressing at whatever speed the currents carry you along.

This really is the perfect wrap-up to the day.

I am moving toward a powerful turning point.  Some days it is at a snail's pace, almost imperceptible, but it is still movement.  

Tonight I built a fire, poured a glass of amazing red, and allowed myself to daydream about tomorrow.  It is hard, but I am trying with all of my might to be patient.  I do not possess the gift of patience, but I believe the path to healing is worth it.


Tranquility

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Welcome to the world little man...

Marge, my best friend of (gulp) 23 years brought another miracle into the world on Friday...

Please meet Joshua Landon...


He is beautiful. 

Marge is doing well, although understandably tired...but more importantly...peacefully, blissfully happy.

Marge is not her real name.  I would say she would want me to tell you that, however, I am pretty sure she is ok with it.  It's been her real name to me for...well, almost 23 years.  It has been pretty much the only name I have called her since high school.  Her real name is Jennifer.  Some people call her Jen.  Or Jenny.  

I call her Marge.

In high school and beyond...we were inseparable.  My last name was Holmes.  I became "Holmer".  People never saw Holmer without...

Marge.  

Like the Simpsons.

Only cooler.

Marge gave birth to her 2nd son on Friday.  Big brother Jack (how big can you be at 2 1/2?!)  is so excited.  Dad Jason is in total love and adoration...of Joshua and of Marge.  And of Jack.  

I am beyond proud of her and in love with the newest member of her family, and mine.

I count myself blessed to have had the opportunity to see them this weekend in the hospital and to hold onto the little guy and stare into his beautiful face.  He is gorgeous.  She is strong and graceful.  I am...in awe of the whole deal.





Finally...open eyes!  

Complete, absolute...Love.

Congratulations Marge, Jason, and Jack.  See you soon.  Miss holding that little man already!

Saturday, January 15, 2011

Thursday, January 13, 2011

Letting Go

I'm awake when I should be sleeping.

Again.

Long day, I guess.  Longer year.  Yesterday, the book slammed shut on this chapter of my life.  It was the culmination of everything I have been through and it was supposed to bring some sort of artificial closure and relief.  It was the final step in a process that has been nothing short of nightmarish for me because tender parts of my personal life have gone public.  I am fully accountable for a portion of it - I let my heart rule my head.  Never again.

The other parts are the catalyst for my insomnia.

Believe it or not, I am a private person.  I write as an outlet and a lot of what I write I am not brave enough to share openly.  I confide completely in very few people.  I pick and choose carefully who I can trust.

This time I got it wrong.

So wrong, in fact, I have managed to find a new way to fold into myself as wave after wave of emotion crash into me. Hurt. Betrayal. Confusion. Rage. Disillusionment. Defeat.  As more is revealed to me in terms of how deeply my trust has been violated, I am now just floating on the surface, letting the sheer enormity of it toss me around and further batter my broken heart.  

I have lost faith.  I feel defeated.  I realize it's not an official stage on the path to healing but I think we get the right to write our own rules.  Capitulation.  I have no fight left in me. I am black & blue.  I have tried to internalize the pain as much as possible while I ask why....over and over...why?  Why?  More why.  No answers.

Is it defeat or letting go?

I'm struggling with finding the music to capture my feelings right now, but I am migrating to parts of this song by Carrie Underwood - Jesus, Take the Wheel.  There's a bit of religion in it which I tend to steer clear of on my blog.  I'm focused on the letting go part.  No more fight.  I'm throwing my hands up.

...It'd been a long hard year
She had a lot on her mind and she didn't pay attention
she was going way too fast
Before she knew it she was spinning on a thin black sheet of glass
She saw both their lives flash before her eyes
She didn't even have time to cry
She was so scared
She threw her hands up in the air

Jesus take the wheel
Take it from my hands
Cause I can't do this on my own
I'm letting go
So give me one more chance
Save me from this road I'm on
Jesus take the wheel

As a close friend said,

Min, it's time to start writing the next chapter. 

Get out a fresh sheet of clean paper.  I can't find my pen today but it really is time.

Sunday, January 9, 2011

Saturday, January 8, 2011

Dance Dance Resolution

Well, hello insomnia...my old friend...

I didn't miss you. I know it's impolite to lead with a declarative statement about my feelings. Perhaps I should ask you how and where you've been, what you've seen, why you're back, but I'm not going to do that for 2 reasons:

1) I am so TIRED I just don't have it in me to engage in pleasantries
2) In 2011, I am working on being more honest

Before conclusions are drawn and assumptions made, let me explain. I am an honest person. The only times in my life that I may attempt to sidestep the truth are when I am trying desperately not to hurt someone's feelings. And I never attempt to sidestep the truth in my professional life, however I am pretty good at dancing around it until the words eventually start evolving into what I am trying to say (apologetically, of course), or the audience wants to throw their hands up in exasperation and cry just.get.to.it.already.

In the new year, I didn't make resolutions per se. Nothing makes me feel worse in the dead of the winter than broken resolutions. After all, if you can't get a promise to yourself it makes it a hard sell to believe you can keep promises to other people. My problem in the past was that I tried to make too many promises and I wrapped them up in a pretty bow & used different color ink and drew doodles around them...then carried them in my purse and thought...YES! I have a plan. THIS is the year.

I'd write things like:
Call my Mom more often
Then set measurement goals:
Call 2x a week
And create a schedule:
Call on Wednesday and Saturday

Another example:
Make sure my family and friends know how much I appreciate them, by
Checking in with at least 2 people every week, and
Telling them I am thinking about them and am happy I know them

In February...or May...or October...I would come across the list, long after I suffered the disappointment of knowing I had failed, and then relived the crushing blow of knowing that no matter how pretty I packaged it up - if it didn't become action it was just words on a paper.

This year I am not going to put myself through it. 2010 was challenging enough to my sense of self, thankyouverymuch. I'm taking it on easy on myself this year.

Instead, I have a few areas in my life I am going to spend a little more time in.

This year, I am going to protect my heart and not in the "now I'm eating Cheerios" sort of way. It's not what I want to do because it goes against my nature. It's something I have to do as an interim solution on the path to healing.

As I get older (not old, I said "older"), I am becoming more comfortable in my own skin. Finally. I mean, it's been my skin all along so it's about time. With this safer feeling within myself, I am starting to have a stronger handle on what's most important to me in my personal life. Family, friends, fitness, writing...I want to spend more time cultivating these aspects and let go of the rest. Like lawn mowing. I pretty much gave that up last year, much to the dismay of my neighbors.

In my non-personal life, I am very passionate about my career. I love marketing. I have love and trust in the brands I work on and I believe in the plans we are developing to make them even more loved and trusted by the people who use them. This year, I'm focusing on expressing that passion more openly with the folks I work with. Not only on the positive side, but also when tough decisions need to be made or when a plan just isn't all the way there. I want to be able to shorten the dance number to a few quick moves and cut to the chase.

(Bet you were wondering when I was going to get back to the sidestep/dance/truth part of this, weren't you? See? It takes me a few unchoreographed moves to get.to.the.point)

One of our core values at work is: tell it like it is
Another one is: lead from the head and the heart

These values make sense to me. I want to express myself in a more honest and direct way and if I am coming at it using both my head and my heart - hopefully hurt feelings won't be left behind in the aftermath. I want to shorten the dance because it's a waste of time, for everyone.

If a friend asks when we are shopping, do you like these jeans on me? My typical response would be..."Well, I do, I think they are a nice shade of blue, I do like that brand a lot, I like the way they fit around your ankles, I don't know, I did like the other pair you tried on a little more, I don't know, what do you think? Do you like them?"

Where I'd like to be: "There are things about them I like, but the pair you had on before fit you better and the detailing made your ass look amazing (this is girl-talk in the dressing room..BTW) I think there are better options for you than these"

At work when asked, what do think of this plan?
Instead of saying, "I like it, I think we're close, I know this is tough project, lots of details to consider, do you like it?, how do you feel about the progress you've made so far?, I'm not sure it's where it needs to be yet, there are parts I really like, I am confused by parts of it, I wonder if you could walk me through why you chose this aspect to focus on, I guess I'm not quite there yet, are you ok with it?"
I'd like to respond, "I think you nailed the objective with x and y. (insert brief supporting argument) There is more work to do on z. It's not all the way there yet, it feels off strategy and isn't as impactful as I expected. I'd like us to spend more time on z to get it to where we expected it to be"

I still want to be a nice person and there is no way I would ever be able to not consider someone's feelings (usually before my own). I just think there is a better way.

Less dancing. More honest.

I'm saving the dancing for my living room and the occasional trip to the dance floor.

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

IronMin Parking Only

I can finally admit that I totally understand the sheer enjoyment and sense of importance one can derive from having their own parking space at work.

I have one this year.

It's mine. As in - no one else can park there. If they do, security will come and leave a nasty note on their car. That's right - I said - A nasty note.

I envision it says something like this:

"Hey jack-o-lantern (remember, I like to change colloquialisms), this isn't your parking space. You can't park that 'beater' of a luxury sedan or outrageously over-sized SUV here. This space belongs to IronMin and she is understandably torqued. Park here again, and we will be forced to do something drastic. Like pour muddy water on your pristine paint job. Or call you names in the cafeteria. Which will make you cry. Or interrupt the office Muzak to announce that you thought you were better than everyone else and decided you could just park your mortgage-payment-with-wheels anywhere you want. Don't force us to do something really mean like plow all of the snow from the rest of the lot and deposit it behind your shiny, happy tail lights. If we ever get snow. It could happen. Don't test us.
Signed, Security/IronMin's Hit Team"

In reality it probably reads:

"This is a warning. Please refrain from parking in unauthorized spaces. Sincerely, your security personnel"

At any rate, I am the proud owner of spot #40 for the rest of the calendar year. It's ALL MINE. (insert diabolical laughter)

You may be thinking - wow, IronMin is a Big Wig. She must be extremely important. I should try to get to know her better. Maybe even comment on her blog to suck up to her. I had no idea she was this powerful or had this much social currency.

Well, if you want to suck up and comment - that's your business. Who am I to stop you?

Yet - no, no, no. I paid for this spot. Not with blood, sweat, and tears. Not with elbow grease either. With hard-earned American Dollars. Moolah. Dinero.

Whatever. I know dinero is not American Dollars. I do things in 3's. Don't judge.

Back to my story. We have a United Way campaign every year at my company, and someone came up with a genius way to incent folks to help the community through small, yet significant rewards. Hence, United Way parking spots were born. That's right, United Way parking spots can only be attained by either:

a) winning the lottery (yeah, that would never happen to me), or
b) by donating a predetermined % of your salary (ding ding ding)

I give to the United Way every year, without need for reward or incentive. I believe in giving back to the community in which we live and work. And I am fortunate that my company believes whole-heartedly in giving back. It's just one of the many reasons I landed here and a very compelling reason to stay. Not only do we generously give monetarily in our annual campaign drive, but we also take time out of the office to help our community in other ways. we participate with Days of Caring, Second Harvest, Meals on Wheels, and we build playgrounds with KaBoom! It's in the fabric of our DNA and I love that.

As I was lucky enough to be promoted through the years, I gave a little more of my salary every time. This year, I gave enough to cross the parking spot threshold.

I don't expect to receive a reward for supporting my community, like I said. I can't deny, however, how good it feels to have that spot. For one, it reminds me daily that I'm not just in it for myself - that I have a lot that I am grateful for. And through giving a bit of what I have away, I have hopefully helped look out for someone in need or helped fund an essential program that will benefit many.

Secondly, and brace yourself, this is selfish - it's comforting to know where I am going to park every single day when I pull into work. For the past few years, it's been a crap shoot. Get in late and you park so far away the building is a mirage in the distance. Get in early and you pretty much score the same deal. I'm not sure what the magic time is - but I've been fortunate only a few times to arrive when someone is randomly leaving their spot. Randomly.

In summary, I like pulling into my very own, designated, special parking spot. And sometimes, it's the little things that make your day just a smudge brighter.

P.S. I had better not find you in my space. I'm just saying...

Monday, January 3, 2011

Word Porn

Yesterday on the long drive back to Wisconsin from Michigan, I was on twitter.

Yes, I was driving.

Yes, I know it is illegal to be driving and texting. The powers-that-be did not say anything about tweeting and driving. I am a very literal person. I am pretty sure I found a loophole in the law, and I'm willing to battle for it.

When you have recovered from the one-two punch of first, my rebelliousness against authority and second, my complete disregard for car safety that was reckless at best...I'll continue.

OK, yes, I will even give you "Menace to Society", although if I were you - I'd reserve that one for later nuggets of IronMin persona for which it is more applicable.

So, I'm tweeting. And driving. And I found myself in my very first twitter debate.

The theme: Paying someone for a list of blog post ideas.

Discuss.

I was con. While I have the utmost respect and admiration for the writing and insights of the blogger offering the service...I questioned the very nature of a writer's need to pay someone to help them come up with ideas to post.

Now, I am self-aware enough to know at least 2 simple truths:
1) Sometimes (ok, maybe more often), my blog posts SUCK
2) Writer's block is a real phenomenon (please throw salt over your shoulder and pray this never happens to you. Or me, if you don't mind)

However, I had to ask - if you are a writer, and you love to write, why do you need to purchase a list of ideas from someone else to generate your writing?

The debate was lively. Art imitates life. Which is another way of saying, in my opinion, art often steals inspiration from sources outside of ourselves.

I get it.

Yet I argue, I blog to share. I blog to entertain myself, and if I'm lucky...entertain another human being. (Because essentially, my cats don't really care)

I blog and write because my head and heart fill up and I have no other outlet to empty them out, sort through the pieces, and try to understand what is in there. It's a physical feeling for me - the filling, the emptying, the sorting...it's like I just ate way too much spaghetti and I might explode.

I have a love affair with words that has outlasted most of my other love affairs. A word, well-said or well-written...literally takes my breath away. Sometimes I just look up words in the dictionary, just to discover new words. Word porn, I guess. I like reading them. Saying them. Putting them together in meaningful and impactful ways. I enjoy changing colloquialisms and making them ridiculous. Like "Playing hard to get" to "Playing hard to want"

I guess you had to be there.

Maybe it's because I love words SO much that I cannot understand why my own head and heart wouldn't be able to generate enough reasons on my own to write them.

I write because I have to, or the spaghetti incident will happen.

I don't look for reasons to write. Reasons always seem to follow me around, keep me up at night, make me cry, make me laugh, make me yearn for human connection through conversation, get me angry, or just fill me up.

So, I won't pay for blog post ideas. If others want to, I won't judge. To each their own.

For me, I just want to play with words.

Sunday, January 2, 2011

Let's Just Laugh for a Moment

On a lighter note, you have got to see this...

I visited my friend Tracy from college today (more on that later) and she has me hooked on what I can only call - comedy crack. Here is a taste:



Amy Winfrey = Genius.

And now that you have the background, all I can say is...SUGAAAAR COOOOOOKIES