The good, the bad and the really really pretty.

Hello Blogland friends,

This post comes to you courtesy of my very sore fingers. Why are they sore, you may very well ask? Because last night i did boxing and i punched so hard that the blood vessels between my fingers have burst. Not it a totally gross way, more like in a tiny love bite between the fingers way.

So. The good news is that on Monday i went for a 3km walk and on Tuesday I spent an hour at the gym. This included:

1. Running 2km in approx 9 minutes.
2. Boxing
3. Doing some weird stuff to a massive ball and putting my feet in some hanging rings.
4. Revisting my worst ever exercise-a horrendous murderous thing called a Burpee. Stupid name, total bitch of a movement.
5. Pretending to stretch but really talking about french films.

The bad news is this:

My Quit Coffee Campaign lasted 48 hours. The problem is:

1. I had a MASSIVE withdrawal headache
2. I completely lack will power
3. I became nostalgic for coffee dates with my friends
4. Coffee breaks at work are BORING without coffee.
5. I just really really like it okay?

I am drinking much more water though and this morning i even visited Coles supermarket to buy fresh food to *gasp* cook. No more lounging about in restaurants for me. No siree bob.

Oh and the pretty? The pretty is everywhere at the moment. Spring is my favourite time of year (well equal first with Summer, Autumn and Winter.)
Check out some of my favourite spring things.



This type of Blossom.


This type of Blossom? Not so much.


We all know how i feel about dresses by Fleur Wood.


hanging out with these guys at the Collingwood Children's Farm




Going to see my friend as part of this.

ahhh...i love Spring.

coffee and other addictions.

hola.

Part one:

So. I am giving up coffee. This is why:

1. I am addicted to it and i hate being addicted to anything. Free will exists for a reason. or something.
2. My friend Kate is doing a mega detox and if she can kick alcohol, sugar and all things lovely, then surely i can give up coffee.
3. it is expensive. i spend at least $25 a week on the stuff. that is ridiculous. The problem is i only drink organic coffee (because i am a wanker) and it has to be fair trade (again, wanker) and it also has to be quite large.
4. I didn't feel like one this morning so it seems like a good place to start.

Part two;

I have a new resolve to become a better individual in general. This includes doing all my essays in a timely fashion, working hard at work, exercising every single day, documenting said exercise in this blog so as to remain accountable, drinking 3 times more water than i usually drink, not leaving washing in the washing machine for a week, eating things other than the things cooked in restaurants and getting more organised in general.

Part three: a sample from a short story i am submitting to be published. It is called Blueprint.

As time goes on, Girl starts writing her own stories, one by one, until the day, when she is

no longer a girl, she meets a man. He has green eyes and is quick to smile at almost

anything. They talk endlessly about love and life, truth and beauty.

He asks if he can give her his phone number.

And of course there is nothing to write it on, and of course he pulls a copy of Love in the

Time of Cholera from his back pack and of course he tears out the last page, scribbles in

lilac pen and holds it out to her.

And she has already read this story and reread it and reread it and even though she knows

all about how it ends, the grief, the pain, the romance, the misery, she still takes the page

and tucks it up her sleeve. There’s no room for will she won’t she second guesses. She

kisses him.

Years later, the man finds a piece of paper in the back pocket of some old

jeans. The creases are soft from so much folding, the ink a faded purple. Right

there, right underneath a series of numbers is a jumble of words, a

mishmash of letters. He holds it up into the sunlight to see if he can

make out what it says. Somewhere in there he reads “regret” and the word

“sorry” repeated again and again. Then side by side, in a perfect line he finally

finds the words he has been looking for.


Part four:

I really want a coffee.

What i think about, when i think about running.

For me, running is not just about the physical action of putting one foot in front of the other. It is more than the breathlessness, the pounding of sneakers on concrete. More complex than the wind on my face, a song in my ear.

Running for me is about proving to myself that i can do it. When my legs are screaming "noooo!!!" and my heart is pounding out of my chest, my brain is quiet except for a few words whispering out in time with my feet. you. can. do. it. just. keep. going. stop. thinking. keep. going.

I mean, that's like life isn't it? We get so distracted with the future, the past, the possibilities, the consequences. So busy in fact that we forget about the right here and right now. About putting one foot in front of the other. We worry that we better conserve energy, fret over the fact that in five minutes we might be too tired to keep going. But what about right now? Right this second? Well, that's a different story.

Eight months ago today, i went for my first run. I wanted to be able to run five K's by March. Instead, my marriage broke up, i moved house, started personal training, started dating someone really amazing, doubted myself, cut my hair, hugged my cat goodbye, wrote short stories, met celebrities, ignored the pain in my heel, read a million books and got HD's for every single essay i wrote.
And now? I am still putting one foot in front of the other...but there is a definite spring in my step.

Happy Wednesday.

Lust

It's all about running (kinda.)

I am lusting after the following stunning items. It's a problem considering i am broke but i am optimistic about a future in which i stick to a budget and therefore can afford beautiful items like the following.



Since my Ipod got stolen out of my car a couple of weeks ago, i have been dreaming of replacing it with one of these babies. I would like to make a promise to the universe that if i am allowed to have nice things, i will be much more careful with them.



I love this dress. Always have, always will. Fleur Wood is like a fairy princess who makes pretty dress dreams come true.



Two tone hair. I used to be able to go to the hairdresser every 8 weeks. She would trim and treat while i sat in a massage chair with a heat pack or glass of wine. Now i use a $12 DIY packet whenever i get around to it. i miss having nice hair. When i finish school and start earning money, a hair cut is the first thing on my list.




cute huh? Imagine how fast i could run in these!!!

Paintbrushes, running and the first day of Spring.

Well hello there dear reader(s)

I've just had a particularly good session with a client-despite the fact i forgot to take paint, paintbrushes or any drawing implements to an art therapy session. Thank goodness my car is FULL of crap such as beads, wire, PVA and felt. What sort of an art therapist forgets to take paint? This kind i tells ya.
Anyway, my client was talking about how she has "landed in her body." i love that idea. That her body was waiting or her all along and suddenly, through a series of art, exercise, extensive counselling and reflection, she finally feels present; awake, aware.

I often have times where i feel myself slipping into the ether of anxiety, busyness (not to be confused with business....), or simply behaviours that fall under the very broad umbrella of Not Being True To Myself. Those times where my inner voice is drowned out by fears or denial or, often, being too tired to listen. My heart flies off into the universe and i have to search my pockets for the tiny piece of thread that anchors it to my body. Then it's just a matter of tugging and twisting until it finds it's way back where it it belongs.

It's hard to get there sometimes though. It's hard to always do the right thing for yourself. Especially when being true to ourself lives inside a can of worm which you may or may not want to open. But at the end of the day, i am brave enough to say no. I am brave enough to disappoint, put my hand up and ask for help. I am brave enough to honor myself and look inside my little soul with the quiet question of "what is it that you really want?" The answer is not always easy to find and often even harder to achieve.

But as my client sat there today, talking about landing back in her body, I couldn't help but think that for all our differences, for every single experience that is miles away from my own, we are one and the same.

Hearts Memory and The Absolute Truth.

So that's the name for the short story.

I like it. It's a comment on the he says, she says nature of perspective when it comes to relationships. I mean, there is always your truth then the other persons truth then somewhere in between that is the absolute truth (which does not really exist except when saying "the only absolute truth is that there is no absolute truth" which is just a contradiction really now isn't it?)
Anyway, i like it because of the reference to Love In The Time Of Cholera. And i like the length of it. I think it is intriguing. I would read a story called that. Yes.

In running related news:
My ipod was STOLEN and along with it, my much loved jogging playlist. The good news is, i can now buy a better ipod AND create an even better playlist full of Beyonce, Rihanna and you know what else? Some songs from the Lion King. I know, i know...it seems lame. But someone put it on at the gym the other night and it was surprisingly uplifting. Not as surprising as the amount of videos people have put on you tube from the Lion King but still. Who would have thunk it?




Talking about the gym, i better put my runners on.

Happy Tuesday!

Don't run with chewing gum in your mouth.

Last night at the gym i ran on 14. i know out of context, this number means nothing to most people. But let me tell you, it is fast. it's almost a sprint i would say. As soon as we started i knocked off a kilometer and a half on the treadmill before doing evil things to my abs. Then i got back on and went again and for some stupid reason i was all like "make it REALLY fast" to my trainer.THEN I spent some time looking in the mirror and wondering why my face was so red while he asked me if i was going to faint. (I didn't. I am more of a spewer than a fainter.)

Last week felt quite out of control. Like the universe teamed up with mother nature to whip me around in a merciless game of Past and Present Collide to Remind You That Life is whatever that word is that means fluid and changeable and ever evolving. But i am back in the drivers seat. My house is a mess, my hair needs cutting, my life needs minor repairs but at least i am holding the steering wheel again. Thank goodness for running and painting and coffee.