I happened to run across an astounding little project today here in the WordPress world and thought I would share it with everyone. It is called “Beauty is in the I.” They/He/She are/is asking for submissions for photographs of yourself (gulp!) displaying a portion of your body that you feel is beautiful, and why exactly it is that you feel that way. Hopefully the word will spread a little, and therefore increase the number of participants. I would love to see more submissions! So to all of you beautiful people out there, flaunt yourself, please! (I suggest doing so appropriately. Just saying.)
Monthly Archives: January 2012
Listen closely to the whispers
coming from within, below the surface
hauntingly real though no one’s there.
I try not to listen, no I don’t have the time.
But they have their home.
They are there to stay.
They’ve unpacked their bags
far out of reality. “Join me”, they say,
“this is the life!
We have no worries,
no cares or no strife!”
As the days drag on
I’m tempted to succumb
“Throw out that day planner!”
“Take of your clothes, boy,
then you’ll be free!”
“Travel the Earth”, “Feel the stars”
They chant; they whisper; they sing.
“Pardon me, Sir, those cuffs are cold.
Let me be, just doing what I’m told.”
“You have the right to remain silent.
You have the right to a lawyer, a trial in court.
Hope your friends can testify, it’s your last resort.”
Listen closely to the whispers
coming from without
through the soft, white covered walls.
It’s hauntingly distant, like someone’s there.
I’m free to listen. I’m lost in time.
I have my home.
I’m here to stay.
No bags to unpack
since they say I’ve lost reality.
I’ve joined them now
and this is my life.
I have no worries, no cares
or strife. I sure am living the life.
And as the days drag on
I chant. I whisper. I sing.
I have had a writer’s block lately. Let me expand on this: this little writers block is more like four stairs. I am standing at the bottom of these four stairs looking at them as though they are Mount Everest or at least Pikes Peak or something. And I am far from being in shape.
As a side note, I did make a New Year’s Resolution to make myself get in better shape. I, Kristin, am going to run 300 whole miles this year. But I happen to be two miles behind schedule right now and am dreading the run this afternoon…
My solution for this writer’s block? Write down my thoughts on certain (interesting) topics for the day. Gosh, I sure am a problem solver. Cheers to day one.
You want to know my thoughts on this idea? No? Oh. Well, pull up your big girl panties, wipe your tears and do what I say, “Read on.” You remember from my New Year post? Hitler, I am. Speaking of which!
Hilarious until you realize that Hitler spoke German. “Gas die Juden” sounds nothing like “glas saft.” I suppose it could, though, if you were deaf, and in that case, everything would sound just about the same.
My thoughts are that you will enjoy these posts. I also expect that I will be less than prompt at getting these brilliant thoughts up on time. I also expect that they will be far less brilliant than I what I think they are. Be sure to boo me off the stage if that is the case. I can take a hint! Most of the time, anyways.
On the plus side, I am in the process of having a better blog page designed. I’d lie and say I’m cool enough for hiring out to upgrade my blog, but in all reality, I’m lucky my sister went into graphic design. I think I’m going to walk away and leave this as the cliffhanger it is.
My mind has just been blown. Well not really, but exponentially expanded. I am a product of a farming family in a predominately (98%) white community, I am about as rural American as they get. Or so I thought. Several schools, especially the one I currently attend, are focused on graduating rural and Native American populations.
Today in class, we were directed toward a website of a talented photographer, Aaron Huey, focusing on the Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota. Sadly, I was only able to find two photos that I could post on here. Bummer! The one that struck me most was the one of graffiti stating, “my heroes have always killed cowboys,” which you can find on his website. I had always idolized John Wayne, and played cowboys and indians in the same context as cops and robbers. It had never been mentioned that there are heroes on the opposite team.
Whether or not you are interested in the individual, community, and social issues that undermine this population, you can surely fall in love with the photographs Mr. Huey captured there.
P.S. I double dog dare you to look into all the issues that the Pine Ridge Reservation. Plus I, Kristin, will personally mail you a gold star if you become active in your community to promote some changes for similar issues! No lies, you will get that gold star delivered to you by your lovely mailman/woman, from me.
It is my best guess that all of you are all looking for leisurely reading this afternoon as you are running around the wordpress playground. It is also my best guess that you are looking to find someone quirky, hilarious, and is able to write about absolutely nothing while telling such a fabulous story you cannot stop. Unfortunately, that is not me.
Luckily, though, I do have a story. It is a true story, in case you were wondering. I’m not exactly sure I want to delve into this topic, to be honest. I’m not exactly sure I want anyone to know any of this except for the few people that had to witness the whole mess that is me.
Back in mid-October, we completed what has been deemed our most difficult class in medical school. It is also the first class, you know, as a sort of a throw you right into the middle of a sumo wrestling match as a five year old. Most people were able to overcome the obstacles fairly well, and everyone celebrated the night the course ended like it was Y2K.
I can easily say this is my most embarrassing moment to date. Somewhere in me, I decided it was a good idea to drink hard liquor- straight out of the bottle. Not too big of a deal, right? I mean, that isn’t the first time that has happened (MOH at bachelorette parties included) and nothing terribly tragic came out of it. Somewhere in that night, though, I forgot to stop. Ooops.
By about, oh I don’t know, the end of the bottle, my poor stomach/blood stream couldn’t hold any more alcohol. I don’t blame it. I wouldn’t want to hold that much alcohol at once if I were my stomach or blood. You all know what happens next, so I will spare you any excess imagery. I also apologize for any imagery I may have created. Anyways… Someone was nice enough to call me and my other intoxicated friends a taxi cab, gave us cash, and sent us on our way. How we got home you ask? I showed the taxi driver my address which ever so handily happened to be written on my arm in sharpie. Genius move, but hey, it obviously worked.
I hobbled up the steps that I’m pretty sure were as numerous as in a football stadium or something just to find out that I didn’t have my house keys. Lovely life. I did the next natural thing anyone would do in this situation: sit and bawl like a two year old. The worst part about this whole situation is that I am not one to cry, like literally ever. The last time I remember crying before this was for a whole two minutes after my ex and I broke up over one and a half years ago. The last time I cried over something so stupid? Never. (I am more than likely lying when I say that because I don’t remember crying much at all as a child, and every child cries profusely.) But here I am, shedding alligator tears on my porch over forgotten keys. I’m pretty positive I threw in some, “I wish I was smarter,” “All I want is to be prettier,” and “I’m so sorry I’m crying right now” comments, but I think I’ll ignore those right now for the sake of embarrassment. There goes all the best “Never Have I Ever” statements. Humpfff. (For all who happened to read Going Crazy, Ladies, please don’t categorize me as one of them so quickly! One minor slip up doesn’t qualify me to that level, right?)
We got my keys back, got inside the house, took off my face and took out my eyes, and got me in bed. I wish for the life of me that I didn’t remember all of this the next day. Unfortunately, I am positive someone would have filled me in on the profuse holes in my memory if I had forgotten because they tried to anyway. That is the glory of drunkedness, there always has to be some responsible, sober deck who decides it is a really good idea to remind you/fill you in on how ridiculously stupid you/all your friends were the night before. I shouldn’t call him a deck because it was his logical being that got me and everyone else home safely that night. That is beside the point. But forgive me, because I seem to have forgotten the point somewhere along the line…
Please forgive me in this post, because I am going to be the next Hitler. Hitler, reincarnated, maybe? I’ll respond to Stalin as well.
Why such the stone cold face and lifeless heart?
BECAUSE YOU CAN KEEP YOUR NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTIONS. You CAN keep ALL your New Year’s resolutions! Granted you are sane and made semi-plausible resolutions…
Why do I have such faith in all of you? The main reason is that I kept my resolution from January 2011 all the way to 2012. No slip ups, no issues, and only a few tears shed. Well, that is a lie because I don’t cry. I’m Hitler, for goodness sake.
Pffft. Yeah, but you must have given up something that you don’t like or resolved to do something you practically do all the time anyway. WRONG. I gave up sweets: brownies, icecream, truffles, jelly, Reese’s Pieces and Puffs, anything and everything with caramel, cheesecake, Kettle Corn, etc. And I have the sweet tooth the size of an elephant’s tusk, if I am being conservative.
How did I do it? Well, my good friends, that is what I am going to tell you, and you should listen this time. Most of what we want to give up is a learned behaviour. Smoking, eating chips while watching a movie, dessert after a meal, what have you. All habitual. What you need to do is define strict guidelines on how you want to change these behaviours. Here is what worked for me.
1. I love love to bake. Unfortunately, everything I love love to bake contains excessive amounts of sugar, more than likely chocolate, and pounds upon pounds of butter. So, the first week of the year, I went through and found probably hundreds of recipes I would like to try that I could actually eat. I packed away my favorite cook book, “The Chocolate Cook Book”, and any other one that I knew would tempt me. Not going to lie, it took me until October before I could bake sweets and not be tempted to lick the spoon or inhale all the finished products in one bite.
2. Define your resolution. For me, sweets excluded gum, breath mints only when gum was not available, coffee (including lattes but not mochas), and fake sweetened energy drinks only when I am in dire need. That is it. No ifs, ands, or buts.
3. I know it is impossible to get through Valentine’s Day without getting chocolate from someone, and Valentine’s Day just happens to lie in that 5-6th week when cravings are at their worst. Also, I know that I can’t get past Christmas without eating some of my grandmother’s lefse and my aunt’s famous cookies. So, I allowed myself all sweets, as much as I could eat, on holidays. This is where things get sketchy. Define “holiday.” For me, I included Valentine’s Day, my birthday (mainly because it is a holiday, duh), Fourth of July, Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas Eve, Christmas day, and New Year’s Eve until I fell asleep on New Year’s Day.
The best/worst part of allowing sweets is overdoing it. I would definitely set limits on this. I generally ate so many sweets (Icecream for breakfast, anyone? …and for lunch? Okay. Why not.) that I got nauseated ill, every time. Totally worth it.
4. Tell EVERYONE about it in the first week or two. This creates some sort of
guilt factor responsibility that seems to keep me going, even when I didn’t want to. There were so many times when I was alone in a room with a dish full of candy just staring at me, yet I didn’t eat any. Why? Most of the time it was just because I wanted to prove so many people wrong who told me, “You? You couldn’t go without sweets for two hours.” Hah. Showed them.
5. Indulge in other things. Quitting smoking? Treat yourself to something: take the money you were otherwise spending on cigs and treat yourself to something that you previously told yourself you would. Not instant enough? Buy things in advance, wrap it up, and treat yourself when you are craving. My vice was chips and dip, french fries, and sweet potato fries. Heckuva trade, I would say.
6. Avoid situations where you know you will have control issues. For me, this meant avoiding my Grandma’s kitchen. I purposely walked further away to a different door just to avoid the kitchen. Okay, you can’t avoid all situations. Be polite about your resolution, don’t snap at people for not knowing, and don’t be filled with anger that they are a trigger for the bad habit you are trying to break. Around Christmas time, people just seem to hand out extra bake goods to make everyone else fat, making themselves feel better. By this time, most people you know are close enough to you that they just pass the food on by. Which usually directly prompts people that don’t know you to offer you some. This is when you can politely say that you have a New Year’s resolution against it, and watch people’s amazement. That alone is powerful stuff, and makes you want to keep doing it.
The main points from all that jazz is this: you are a lot stronger than you think you could ever be. Breaking things down into manageable steps is the key, right after defining every single little thing that you may possibly find a loophole to later when you are really not wanting to keep your resolution.
But Hitler wouldn’t say that. He would just tell you to do it, and you better darn well do it.