Day 21: Bad
I’m back.
I’m back.
It's 8:30 and I'm sitting here with a glass of wine warm in my tummy and the accordion next to me warm from practice ("The Music of the Night" still is imperfect... How can I practice so much and still not have a clean performance? Sheesh).
A few days ago, I came to work to find a thank-you note and a lovely gift on my desk. It was from a colleague who was thanking me for photographing his surprise baby shower. He said something to the effect of, "you have a gift." I thought he meant, "Here's a gift," but I realized he was talking about my photography.
Here's the deal. I love taking pictures, and I love finding ways I can tell stories with photos. So if I'm photographing an event, I look for little details that tell the story of the event. I like finding different angles. I love taking candid shots and trying to show what happened as it was happening.
...And I have no idea what I'm doing.
F stop, aperture, exposure... no clue. I take aim, I shoot, I hope it comes out, and move on.
I've become the defacto photographer in my department, and that's just fine with me. Everyone tells me I'm very good at photography, and I wave them away every single time with, "I have no idea what I'm doing." I get embarrassed. I discount what I do. One of my coworkers actually offered me money to photograph her new baby (not born yet). I was horrified! How could someone trust me - a hack - with such an important job? (I told her I'd be happy to, but I'd be damned if I was going to accept money).
...But what if they're right? What if I'm actually good at something and I'm waving it away? What if I disown a good part of me? What a huge waste. And really, how embarrassing for the person who has put herself on the line to compliment me only be waved away with essentially, "You have no idea what you're talking about." How completely ungracious.
Sometimes you need to recognize that just because you feel like you're not "the best" at something or "untrained" or "clueless" or whatever doesn't mean what you do - what you contribute - isn't valuable and appreciated. I can learn more about photography, surely. I can learn about aperture and all that other stuff and in the meantime keep taking photos in my own hack way.
I'm pretty sure my photographs won't be hanging on the wall of a museum any time soon.
But I'll bet my photos of that yet-to-be-born baby will be framed and enjoyed for a long time to come.
Tonight I was making dinner and wondering if this little experiment was sustainable after this month is over. I was thinking about all the "have tos" I need to do every day: have to get up, have to go to work, have to provide dinner, etc., and how little time that left for the "want tos." I'm certainly not the first person to contemplate this.
But then I thought about the shades of have tos and want tos. I have to go to work, I want to work at my company in the job I hold. I have to make dinner, I want to make a healthy meal and supplement its construction with a small glass of red wine and NPR. I have to exercise, I want to do something that makes me feel good.
I know this has been covered by Mary Poppins (what, with her "spoonful of sugar" and all), but I think the key to sustainability is to find those overlaps between have tos and want tos.
Not an original thought, I know. But it is for me.
Yesterday morning we packed up and went to Sonoma. That Guy I Live With's friend/coworker "won" a wine blending/tasting session in an auction, and we made the cut. It was a day filled with wine, food, and a really, really good time.
I guess you could say I was "bad." I had a lot of wine (I can't bring myself to spit into those wine jugs... as Veruca Salt said, "Spitting's a dirty habit") and I got tanked almost immediately. Then, of course, you need to eat to soak up all that alcohol, and our hosts provided an amazing spread: almonds, olives, fig cake, brie, bread, smoked salmon, macaroons... Oh my. I ate. And ate. And ate.
And sitting there sipping on my wine, noshing on all that good food and enjoying the gorgeous day in Sonoma, I didn't feel bad. I felt amazing. If I could feel that way every single day, life would be phenomenal. I knew I had been "good" all week, and seriously, how could one feel bad about a day like that?
Yes, I didn't stick to my diet. And I didn't bring the accordion or computer with me, so no practicing or blogging got done. And really, in my state, either activity would have either been useless or would have yielded hilarious (pathetic?) results.
And yes, last week I only went to the gym once and didn't do yoga at all. I do feel bad about that. I'm finding as I go through this experiment is my biggest "feel bad" issues center around diet and exercise. I thought they might.
So this week, I'm going to prioritize the diet and exercise above all else - even above any social things I may want to do. I think if those requirements are met then all the other ones will fall into place.
I also know I haven't done the videos like I wanted to. It's hard to do videos yourself (I had wanted to video my blood-giving experience, but that was impossible to do by myself), but I'll see if I can get creative with these things.
For today, I just finished a week's worth of blogging for Dog Bliss, practiced accordion for an hour, planned the week's meals and made a shopping list, and blogged here. Still up: brushing Bliss, making a couple of phone calls, and getting my things ready for tomorrow.
New week. Time to regroup and be good.
Today I gave blood. This is the first time I have ever given blood; I showed up at the blood bank in Southern California a couple of years ago (before we relocated) only to be rejected because my iron was too low. I tend to run a little on the anemic side, and being a vegetarian makes it even more difficult, so I've been taking lots of iron this past week to prepare. It was like a test, and I was determined not to fail.
I arrived right on time today, the first appointment of the morning, and was asked to fill out that questionnaire that grills me on my sexual habits and needle usage. I was pleased and surprised how nice everyone was. I mean, really nice. I'm not sure what I was expecting - the DMV, maybe? But my suggestion to you is if you want someone to be nice to you, go give blood.
The nice lady took my pulse and blood pressure. My pulse was quick (I had been walking and climbing stairs), but my blood pressure was way low. Almost borderline too low. Which was interesting considering last night I was really angry about something and ranting, raving and dropping F bombs left and right. I was asked if I ate a good, hearty breakfast like I was supposed to.
"Um... huh?"
I was directed into the kitchen where I choked down a granola bar and sucked down some OJ (I don't like eating that early in the morning). I got in the chair, and then they took my blood. It really wasn't bad at all. In fact, I'm a very quick blood-giver. Even with my low blood pressure, that stuff was just shooting out of me. I was done in about 5 minutes.
I was told to sit in the chair for a few minutes, then head to the kitchen for more snacks. I felt fine. I ate some peanuts (bypassing the donuts and muffins), sat around for a few minutes, and, feeling pretty good, I left.
As soon as I started walking it hit me. My head buzzed and my heart pounded. I made my way to BART and immediately got on the wrong train - the first time I've ever done so. I got off and hopped on the correct train, and then walked the half mile home from the station.
That. Was a bad. Idea.
I wasn't sure if I was going to make it home. By the time I opened the front door, I was a wreck, and I've been next to worthless the rest of the day. That Guy Who Lives With Me made me a wonderful lunch, which helped a lot, but I had to lay down several times in between working.
I'm recovering now, and really, I feel pretty good about finally giving blood. Somewhere, someday, someone will have my blood flowing through their veins, and inexplicably start singing Disney tunes.
Cool.
...a little.
This is the part where resolve starts to dwindle. When I first get started on anything, I'm motivated and excited. But my interest starts to fade. I need constant change and challenge to stay focused (odd, but true), and I'm already slipping a little on the Month of Good.
I didn't go to yoga on Tuesday. That was an okay thing, because my friends were having Taco Tuesday and I was invited over. Great! Socializing! That's good for me! So after work I hit the gym, ordered a cake for a party I'm going to next week, got snacks/light beer at the store, filled up the car ($4.09/gallon, by the way), headed home, and got to my friends' place at about 8:30. I ended up getting home at 11:45, and into bed by 12:30. Okay, that's fine. I got to the gym, and I got to have fun. Good, good.
I had planned on going to yoga last night, but hadn't realized last night's class was advanced. No way in hell I can do advanced. Instead, I treated That Guy I Live With to homemade tacos (he missed Taco Tuesday and was highly regretful), practiced accordion, and went to bed at a decent hour.
I had planned on going to yoga tonight, but just found out that it's movie night in the park and they're showing Fast Times at Ridgemont High. WHAT TO DO WHAT TO DO?!? If I don't go to yoga tonight, I'll have missed it all week (we're headed out of town for the weekend), but if I go to yoga I'll miss this month's feature.
I'm leaning toward Fast Times.
Does that make me "bad"? What if I practice accordion, make dinner before I go? What if I'm extra-good tomorrow?
Man, this good thing is hard.
That's what she said.
Today was particularly difficult. I was really, really hungry all day. It was just that kind of day. And what I wanted above all else was a plastic tub of vanilla frosting. I usually get this craving when I'm cutting way back on sugar; when I did a cleansing fast a couple of years ago I dreamed of that chemically, buttery, vanillay stuff all the time. And today was no different.
I sat across from all that candy and all those cookies and I resisted. I stuck to my diet. And then I went to an office baby shower and was confronted by cupcakes. CUPCAKES. CUPCAKES WITH VANILLA FROSTING. Oh man, I could smell them. They smelled so good. As I was presented with the box of cupcakes I considered - briefly - sticking my head in the box and inhaling the frosting off one of the cupcakes. If I did it quickly enough, perhaps no one would notice.
But I said no. I said no to the cupcakes. Month of Good for the win! Yay me!
And now, changing subjects for a moment, I have to be completely honest with you. I really don't feel like writing this. I'm exhausted, and the only reason I'm doing this is because I promised and because I failed to do so yesterday. I'm sitting here trying to be at least somewhat entertaining and clever, but my heart isn't in it. I need to figure out a better time to blog than later in the evening, because I know I'm selling myself short. I had several topics I wanted to talk about, but the effort it would take would require energy I just don't have. And that's really too bad, because those are the things I want to capture.
Although I suppose what I'm writing right now is also something that should be captured, right? Exhaustion? Me forcing myself to follow through? The whole refusing cupcakes thing?
Maybe.
I could seriously go for some vanilla frosting right now...
Here I am on Day 7, finishing out my first week of Month of Good. It's not necessarily what I thought it would be like... I thought it would be nonstop, well, doing things. But I'm sitting here with my glass of wine watching The Office reruns (new episode on Thursday!), because I was so good and already made dinner, practiced accordion, and got everything ready for tomorrow.
And you know what rules about that? No guilt sitting here on the couch with a glass of wine watching the The Office.
And that feels, well, good.
Back to John Krasinski...
Once upon a time, I did yoga regularly. I loved it. It appealed to me on every level: physically, emotionally, spiritually and socially. It kicked my ass regularly. It amuses me when people assume yoga is just sitting crossed-legged on the floor chanting, "Om." I had a doctor ask me if I exercised. I said, "Yes, I do a lot of yoga." He said, "Okay, that's great, but do you exercise?" I said, "You've never done yoga, have you?"
I met lots of great people at yoga, which was wonderful because it's really hard for me to make friends. I seem to be outgoing, but I'm really not. If I have a "script" of some sort (a meeting, presentation, etc.), I'm really good at getting in front of people and presenting (love it, in fact), but without it I'm helpless. So it came to pass I lived in my former city in Southern California without making so much as a single friend for years until I started taking yoga.
It also helped me slim down and become stronger, but, more importantly, it made me more comfortable in my own skin. As I practiced, I could do things I never imagined I could do (my first handstand was cause for celebration), and I was proud of my body. Not because of what it looked like (though its improvement certainly played a part), but because of what it could do. It was healthy. It felt good.
I did this for about a year and a half, longer than I had ever stayed with any kind of exercise program.
Then my work schedule changed and it became all too easy to not go. If I missed the beginning of the class even by five minutes, I would skip it altogether (it's bad form to walk in late to yoga, because you disturb your fellow yogis), and once I got out of that habit, other good habits like eating well and drinking enough water fell away.
When I moved to San Francisco, I thought I would take it up again. I mean, seriously - you can't throw a rock without hitting a yoga studio. I don't know why you'd want to throw a rock, but still. But my practice never got into gear again. I have lots of excuses, but no good reasons. So all that work I did and all the progress I made disappeared, day by day.
Back to square one for me. And this week when I went to yoga, it was very frustrating. Things I knew I could do before I can't do anymore. My hips are almost freakishly tight, and it's painful to attempt certain poses. Handstands are out of the question, and backbends are almost impossible due to the way my arms are built (they bend funny. Not funny "ha ha" but funny weird).
Bottom line is I have a choice to make. Do I decide that this is worth it and stick with it? Or do I decide that another form of exercise would be better for me?
I have all month to figure this out. But what I do know is, difficult has more to give than easy. If I want all those benefits I remember from my regular practice, they won't be given to me.
I have to earn them again.
...but it's okay.
This morning I woke up at 8:00, and immediately put on my "walking" clothes, because otherwise I knew I would get sucked into the computer and never get to the walking.
Today I had a treat, because my husband and stepson decided to join me. Up we climbed for what seemed like forever, and without a video break, this time the walk was much more difficult. My lungs hurt, my heart pounded, and, inexplicably, my ears were ringing. We made it to the top, enjoyed the view, and headed back down again.
I made some homemade carrot/apple/ginger juice which served as my breakfast (along with some freshly brewed Ritual coffee... mmmmm...), and had a slice of whole wheat toast with a little peanut butter as my "lunch" at 11:30.
Why such a sparse menu today? Because tonight was date night, of course.
Oh, it was lovely! Foreign Cinema, baked cheese, champagne, pasta, pot de creme... I blew the rest of my Weight Watchers points for the week, but it was one night. And I chose to spend them this way.
See? Choose. Choice.
Feel bad? No.
Yoga at 9:00 am tomorrow.
