Wednesday, May 14, 2008

This Came Spilling Out

Note: This post is long. Scroll down and skip to the happier part, I say. The brave among you can start here, at the pensive part. But don't say I didn't warn you :)

Being at home makes me extremely reflective. Mostly because I just lounge around the house all day. I stay awake at night as a result, because I sleep in so late. As my head flops against my pillow, I find myself turning my jumbled thoughts and recollections into blog post's that for dedication? Sometimes my siblings wear me out. I love my sister but sometimes secretly want to give her a good pinch. Mature, I know.

When it comes to finding someone to date, a complete stranger is ideal. Make sure none of your friends knows that motherfucker. I'm talking incog-negro. Go out and find someone interesting, not someone convenient. Trust me on this. If it's not people weighing in on the state of things, he or she will find your blog or something equally ridiculous that will probably not work well in your favor. Lines that should remain straight get blurry and the concept of "don't ask, don't tell" will be virtually ignored.

I could continue. But I won't. I'm slightly annoyed that I've written this much. I should have listened to my friends. In my defense, though, I rarely listen to anyone's boy advice. But like Maya Angelou said, "If someone shows you who they are, believe them." He did, but I didn't. Not only that, but I started to fall for him anyway.

But you put on quite a show
You really had me going
But now it’s time to go
Curtain’s finally closing
That was quite a show
Very entertaining
But it’s over now

"Take a Bow"-by Rihanna (quick shout-out to Top Chef! he loves this song)

Anyway. This isn't coming from anger, or hard feelings. Maybe a side-eye. Despite that, though, I still hate that I'm wasting an entire post on this. That's just who I am. I don't get over these things easily. I had this much of a hard time getting over Tex, too, and he never bought me cheesecake from Chik-fil-A. You don't get to make me feel bad about being who I am, a girl who is reckless with her feelings. You get to be a cool person in my life from here on out. "We" get to be a nice little memory. But that's it. The ship that had me "thinking about you in class" has sailed.

Oh! I just saw Lisa Leslie and Candace Parker on TV at the Lakers game (yes, I'm up watching basketball)! CP is like, my idol. She's one of the best college female basketball players (she can dunk, and she was the number 1 WNBA draft pick, y'all) around. And she's randomly gorgeous, which I don't usually care for in athletes. Let me explain. I think athletes should be buff and banged-up. Sports aren't be pretty, they are rough, grind-it-out, bloodbaths. In cheer practice, we looked like hell. But it was because we worked our asses off. I like roughed-up athletes almost more than too-pretty ones (I like that in general), because it means that they are truly putting their bodies on the line for what they do. It shows heart.

But I'm weird like that. I call every scar on my body a "battle wound," much to my mother's dismay. I want my body to be a testament to the fact that I didn't sit around my whole life, didn't get things handed to me (usually). I fall, I cry, I bleed, I eat a lot and can do the Crane pose in yoga. Don't get me wrong. I love fancy lotions, hand massages, and overpriced underwear (it's a vice). Those are my own little luxuries, stuff that makes me feel unequivocally like myself. And I love that.

I think I'm writing so much because being in front of this computer means that I am not in front of the refrigerator. There's a pair of shorts I've got my eye on, we can't have an untimely increase in the size I need, now can we? For real. I need a trainer, or at least a chicken to chase around my backyard like Rocky had. No, what I need is the will to drag my ass out of bed and onto the treadmill, let's be real. I've been watching "Stick It" all day, for inspiration:

But those stupid DIY workout plans bore me quickly. I need a physical person to come and whip me into shape. That might not work either, though, as I can't have her yelling at me or anything. And yes, it'd have to be a her. I don't do well with male figures of authority. Maybe it could be a gay guy. However, having a gay trainer might be a bit much even for me, a card-carrying member of the "princess among queens" club. I kind of want to take up a sport. Like soccer. That'd be sick if I came back to school a ripped soccer player. I dunno. I'll give it some thought. It sure is hard to get in shape. There's nothing around here but Dairy Queen and ANTM marathons.

Haha, I'm in a really good mood now. Don't ask me why. I'm gonna go with the flow, or maybe I should just go to bed happy?


(vixenchick) said...

ANTM marathons and Dairy Queen? I'm so wishing I was there with you. :) It might actually help you to work out-when I watch ANTM it makes me wanna work out. (I know, I'm so weird..) Have a great week!!

Bobby_2010 said...

Hey are so crazy!!! But I understand what you are going through with the needing a trainer thing!!! I need one too, but I'm gonna try to make it on my own this summer, maybe I can get a few of the folks to work out with me!

Lucky said...

I understand, it's like some twisted motivation ;) I try to watch TV while I work out, to distract myself, lol.

Yes, Bob, we should try and be self-motivated! And it'd be cool to find some workout buddies while you're at your internship!

I want some chicken lo mein right now, though...