Tuesday, April 15, 2014

all good things...

come to those who wait?  NO - they come to those who work for it.  And although my progress isn't progressing as quickly as one might hope for, I AM making something happen, which I guess is what really matters.  Five more pounds gone, bringing my total weight loss up to 23 pounds!  Ideally, I'd love to lose 7 pounds this month, bringing me to an even 30 by mid-May, but I'll just see what happens with the effort I continue to put in.  I've already made stipulations for myself, like I'm not going to starve and I'm going to eat what I want when I want, maintaining as close to 1200 calories per day as I can (making substitutions where I really don't notice a difference: light butter/sour cream/cream cheese/cheese, turkey bacon/burgers/sausage, brown rice, water with every meal - things of that nature).  I won't be miserable, and I thoroughly enjoy putting tasty stuff in my mouth!  All in moderation is my motto!  With that in mind, I know I could cut more weight if I drastically changed my eating habits, but I look at it this way:  if I want to keep this off for good, continue to lead a healthy lifestyle, I need to start habits that I will maintain.  I could go vegan, never eat sweets, learn to love flax seed and whey (bleh!) but as soon as that weight's gone, I'll just pick up where I left off.  I'm not looking for a quick fix or a miracle here, I'm looking for changing my habits for the good while still being able to enjoy the good things in life, like cake, and doritos, and pepsi... just not all day, everyday.

I got myself a Polar heart rate monitor/watch thingy and it's nice to see that I've actually been burning more calories than I thought.  Plus, seeing those calories tick off has been lending to me working out for longer periods of time.  I usually only run 30 minutes exactly, no matter if I've hit the 3 mile mark or not.  But with the watch, I find myself going more for higher calorie kill, meaning I go for like 45 minutes to an hour and it's good with me.  Let's not get ahead of ourselves and think I've made some leap and bound in the 'LOVING' it department, because I haven't.  It's the hardest part of my day, everyday.  I still feel like it's a massive waste of my time, even if I AM losing weight.  I hate the effort I have to put in, the sweat that rolls down my neck and underboob... it's all very not fun for me.  I have been able to find the slightest bit of solace in those last few minutes of a jog though; the beginning, when your muscles are all tense and taught and screaming at you to stop, those are the hardest minutes... and that time in the middle when you've convinced yourself you've done enough, you can quit early - those are rough.  But those last few minutes, when I'm able to push myself through the final quarter mile, I've learned that I can grant myself a tiny bit of pride in having accomplished something I hadn't been able to do only months before.  I know I've come a long way.  I may give myself too much credit, especially since I can only run a 17 minute mile, and maybe I should be pushing myself harder rather than being content to go slowly, but I don't care.  I'm burning calories, I'm sticking to what I said I would, and I'm okay with the way things are going for me.

Again, not getting crazy and thinking I'm coming around to this... and don't think I'm telling myself I can't enjoy it either as some stick it to the active-lifestyle-junkies... it's not my thing and it never really will be.  I think what I am realizing though - I can do it even if I don't enjoy it.  I've always had the mindset, "do what you love, love what you do," and while I maintain that mantra in pretty much every other aspect of my life, I realize for this... I don't love what I'm doing, but I love what it's doing for me.  Call it an epiphany or a miracle, whatever.  All I know is I like losing weight, I like my clothes not fitting (in a good way, aka too big for me), I like the pride my husband feels for my accomplishments, I like the compliments and words of encouragement from others.  I don't know what made this time different, trying to lose weight, but four months ago when I stared myself down in the mirror and told myself that I WAS doing this and I WAS going to see it through to the end, I've not once thought of quitting.  I've thought about how miserable I am and how I wish I didn't have to do this, but something inside me this time around just knew that I needed this for me, for my relationship, for my health.

Anyway... enough of this peppy bullshit - I've been writing a bunch, pretty close to finishing my second book.  I got through the hardest part, which was the research section for my hunters.  I've always been a firm believer in writing things that could be realistic.  Obviously succubi aren't real, but everything else about my book, I want to be believable and plausible, which is why I base so much of it on actual people and places and objects and events, just with twists.  Anyway... I'm in the homestretch, I think, and I'm hopefully going to go right into the third book when this one is done - no break this time.  I'm at least going to write the first half of it before I even publish the second book, although it's about two years behind my original deadline I set for myself, I want to make sure I actually finish this series more than I want to share it with everyone.  If you're eager, my apologies for keeping you waiting for so long.  It'll happen, I just hit a snag is all.  I certainly hope I'm over it; I'm finding it MUCH easier to just pick up and write at any moment.  I find inspiration in the oddest places and at the oddest times, which is actually a bit of a relief.  Before, I wasn't seeing anything anywhere, I was avoiding it - but now my mind is so much more open to seeing things from a different perspective, providing me so many jumping off points for my own imagination to take over!

Alright, enough positivity... I gotta go listen to some depressing music or something, get me back to normal ;)

Until next time...

Monday, April 7, 2014


Most of the time, the world of fiction can be freeing, liberating, desired.  Sometimes it can call out to you, provide you with an escape from reality, give you a much needed distraction.  Then...

there are days like today.

When fiction can be so overwhelming you can't withdraw from it, you can't or don't want to return to what's right in front of you.  I read, a lot. I write, I watch shows and movies. I have a fantastic life, so I'm not trying to escape a world I don't enjoy... but I do have a very active imagination.  And when I can't contain that energy anymore, I do whatever I need to do to drain it from inside me - whether that be create my own or revel in someone else's.  But there comes a point when your heart hurts for fictional beings more than real ones or you get so immersed in a pretend world you find it occupies every extraneous thought.

It hurts.  It's an affliction.  It's all-consuming.

I wonder if there's a word for it... book coma, fiction overdose?  Word depression? Who knows...

All I do know is: when a book becomes too close to reality, when real-world problems and outcomes litter the pages, it's even worse. I think it's brave of the writer, something I don't know if I'm capable of doing to my own fantasy world and made-up characters.  But as a reader it is heartbreaking and sad and hard and brings me to tears.

That's where I'm at. I'll give myself a few days to process and recuperate, but then I'll move on... on to the next. Because I'm a lover of reading, of fantasy, of imagination, of fiction.

Until next time...