Warrior Princesse

I need to be a warrior princesse. I am inside. I used to be on the outside (in another world, another time) and I crave that body back. Not because I'm vain (which I am) and not because I want others to find me attractive, but because I want my body to be able to cope with anything. I want to take on the elements and not just survive, but feel amazing!

Yesterday morning, I woke up naturally without the alarm. Didn't think about it, but went into the living room and began to stretch. I did it the routine way, like in dance class. Head first, take it slow, start rolling your shoulders, swing your arms...there's a reason they do it like that and it felt goood. When I had eversoslightly improved my splits, I lay down, put my hands behind my head, and began some crunches. Felt so good.

I never used to understand when people would want to hear of new exercises. I do now. I want my muscles to feel challenged and then stronger! It's as simple as that.

Best part -- I did it again this morning.

Only about 19 more days before I've formed a wicked habit!

Getting Along

So, I'm a vegan. I own it. I suck at it because sometimes, I'll have a bite of the delicious spaghetti bolognese I just cooked, and sometimes, I'll include a delicious brie in my picnic, but generally, yeah, I do well.

I thoroughly enjoy looking up recipes for meals and baking and stuff to add fun and variety to what could otherwise feel like hell, but you know what I usually find? Vegans are assholes. They are so proud of themselves all the time! Can't they just be comfortable with what they're doing and not constantly announce it? ...Ha... is that what this blog is? I certainly don't intend it to be! Anyway, if I have ever come off as smug, erase it from your memory. I am extremely critical of myself and I never judge others. I really couldn't care less if anyone else ever wants to become a vegan. I don't think I'm doing something amazing for the world, I don't really care about the animals, I'm just trying to only eat food that makes me feel good. Not smug. So there.

Another thing I thoroughly enjoy -- going out to eat. When I do that, I either have to eat meat or cheese. Or fish, which I think I should eat anyway, once a week, or every two weeks. Sometimes, there's a vegetarian option, but it usually consists of more butter than I was ever comfortable with, or, as mentioned, cheese. Which I love. But it's not usually cheese worth cheating for, it's usually processed mozzarella. It's honestly not hard to just not use butter or cheese when making...almost anything! Especially salad! In some places, they have vegetarian restaurants or vegan restaurants. I even found a vegan pub in Bath! Hoorray! I had a great time eating there -- ALONE. Dudes, carnivores and herbivores hang out. It's a fact. We get along because we're NOT smug motherfuckers.

My idea is that someone (else) should make a restaurant where meat hungry wolves can dine out with seed nibbling squirrels. And everyone in between! Some people don't need meat with every meal or might enjoy trying something else! Then the smug vegans will have to put up with cow flesh being in the same kitchen, or even on the same table, heaven forbid, as their tofu, and everyone else will have the pleasure of my company!

Vegans, stop being dicks. Don't be like Mac pushers.

Balance!

Together vs Carefree.

Do I have to choose? Usually when I try, I end up with neither. I'm naturally carefree. But when there are other people to care for or things that I want in life, carefree doesn't serve. I need to be together.

But then I lose myself! I lose the things people like about me.

I'm focusing on the problem, not the solution.

What I've been trying is to appear carefree but work on being together. When I appear carefree, I feel stressless and fun and happy-go-lucky. When I accomplish together-ness things, I feel stressless and fun and happy-go-lucky. It's just getting myself together that's the hard part, the part where I feel stressed and boring and my mind fills up with lists and failures and embarrassments and eating disorders and growing old...

I do happen to be in a carefree phase. Trying hard not to let that be careless...

And just as a side note, Glee fucking rocks.

Cast Your Soul to the Sea

To put today in context, I must first describe yesterday:

Gray, gross and wet. A stereotypical setup for a crappy time. Pathetic fallacy (my brother and I are always ridiculously proud of whipping out that particular tidbit from English class). I had to go to the hospital for some unavoidable girly reason and found again that they are unacceptably incompetent. N.B. I never get sick except the odd cold, I never need doctors or medicine. Do you know how much council tax, the tax that is supposed to pay for things like health care, costs here in England? Do you know how impossible it is to get anything useful out of the NHS? (ps my high school was Newmarket High, i.e. NHS, so every time anyone says that here it makes me first think of my school, heehee.) Imagine how much blood-boiling wrath I'm filled with when I just need ONE thing from them and it costs me a quarter of my paycheque and they don't do it right? ARRRGH!

To top it off, I was only in there a minute and my bike light was stolen.

I rode around in the rain for a while, trying to get my endorphin-boosting cardio in, but it didn't make me feel very good. At home, very horrible papers were being marked and my no TV rule was proving quite painful. All I could think about was food and, while I did remain vegan and sugarless (yay!), I still didn't feel like the energetic, artistic hippie I hope to unearth (from the caverns of my couch-potato, slightly depressed exterior).

My go-to frustration expression is "what's the point?" Sometimes I add a few swear words, or start it with an "I mean," or end it with a "seriously." I try to think it's a positive thing, "what's the point of buying things if they're just going to get stolen? I can be perfectly happy with practically no possessions!" But really, it's negative, "what's the fucking point in trying to be a good person and ride my bike everywhere? I should just get a fucking car -- though that'll be stolen too! -- or work in a fucking bank and take taxis everywhere!" Then my overflowing anger makes me stub my toe or bang my elbow which makes me think "what's the point of leaving the house?" It's a tough cycle to end.

The end of the day got funner (I like to use that word ironically -- like irregardless -- and I am sad to see that it is accepted by the Safari spelling police) when I put on my new Pump It Up dance work out dvd. I laughed at first, they look weirdly shiny and the preview of the moves in the introduction just looked silly! So 80s and cheesy! But the second I started the warm up, I felt motivated, excited, determined and blonde (they do have more fun)! It was great!

Now, today! I woke up extra early as my partner had a 7:30am gym date. That gave me time to get the (2 week old) laundry going, wash and cut my hair (all by myself! There's one mistake and I assure you, it's well hidden), and make a delicious breakfast! The Beast returned heralding "a beautiful day!" and I simply had to get a taste. Luckily, it's Friday -- market day in Southampton! Popped on my oversized shades and ventured out with the iPod and a few bags. Mmmmm, the fruit and veggie stall was in full swing! I couldn't stop buying more! Heaviest bunch of stuff ever, and only 8 pounds! Some bacon for the man, some naughty baclava for moi and homeward bound again.

Poor lecturer marking abysmal reports again but listening to a lovely relax-o mix I made including classical and modern soothing music. One of my favourite songs in the world is on there -- it's actually from the Riverdance soundtrack. It's called Coinneadh Cu Chuliann and it makes me feel like I'm flying through some sort of tragic, mystic tale of love and adventure!

Then I remembered Loreena McKennitt and Dante's Prayer. That song carries me away as well. And, of course, A Case of You by the lovely Joni Mitchell. Which brings me to my next new thing I'm gonna do/old thing I'm going to get back into. Folk music. I used to become infatuated with something and immerse myself in it until I became an expert in my eyes and a crazy obsessive in the eyes of everyone else. I liked being that. I'm still that, really, but I haven't done it with anything tangible in a while, like music.

Folk music please -- mainly of the celtic variety. I want to feel spiritual and traditional, and I want to sing it and write it. Where do I begin?

I feel like this will tie in to my impending love of yoga and meditating.

PS, that picture is of Loreena and I.

Once More Into the Breach

As I sit in my (partner's) ergonomic knee chair, belly pleasantly full of tomatoes, avocados, wild rocket and hummus, hair smelling of sulfate-free shampoo, nostalgic music playing, legs still slightly achy from my early morning vigorous bike ride, vision board colourful and complete on the coffee table, I think, I've had a good day.

Up until now, a day like today would have been the exception, not the rule. The idea is to flip that. I would like it if a greasy pizza, chocolate almond, chemical-y beauty product, couch sprawl, Extreme Makeover: Home Edition because nothing else is on, whole jar of peanut butter kind of day happened once in a while. In a very long while.

Please don't get me wrong -- either kind of day, or any other kind of day could be right up anyone's alley, including mine. I would never assume that what feels right to me should be immediately implemented into your daily routine. It's hard enough learning about myself, how could I presume to know you? Besides, it is inevitable that my own mind will change in time. So why do I bother?

A good friend of mine loves to argue. Hard. She lurves it. It gets her into lots of trouble, causing many heated storm outs, silent treatments, uncomfortable debates -- a lot of people find her difficult to get along with at first, either intimidated by her aggressive insistence of her opinions or offended by her aggressive insistence that everyone else provides solid, unflappable arguments for their own. After one such (slightly drunken) philosophical brawl, her cheeks flushed and beaming as if she had indeed been kung fu fighting, I had to ask: what the hell was her deal? Why question and disagree with everything?

She thought about it. Cocked her head to one side and looked up. "Because," she replied, "if they're right, I want to know so I can change my opinion."

Huh.

My application of this principal is slightly altered. The plan is to try things (ways of life, activities, food, music, routines, theories, action plans...you get it) and see how they feel. Original and ingenious, I know.

The lovely day I described consists of (relatively) new things I've been trying: sitting up straight (duh); a vegan diet (I accidentally read Skinny Bitch by Rory Freedman and Kim Barnouin and they got me!); not using chemicals in my hair so that the next time I get it dyed, it'll hold on to the blue-black; cardio in the morning (it sets the tone for the day, much like making my bed); expressing myself creatively; and most recently, giving up TV for lent.

It is time. I must explore, I must examine, I must hunt for ways to be, for things to do, for inspiration for my mind, body and soul.