I'm feeling very proud of myself. Went to weggies this morning and had a seriously fun time picking out weird veggies to cook up into some very different meals than we're used to. I think I can do this.
What the hell is a rutabaga anyways?
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Friday, January 13, 2012
Me and the Doctor
It's now past 1300 on Friday the 13th. D-Day. Why, oh why did I say I was going to do this?
Sigh. It must have been the derranged skinny person who lives inside me. She's been knocking. She's been trying to get out for a while. I love her. I hate her. I AM her. I'm still not sure I want to do this, but as I've said before it's time.
As I type I'm remembering a Dr. Who episode (David Tennant, thank you very much) where the Doctor had placed the time-lord part of himself inside a watch and the person that was left was human, and didn't even remember that he was "The Doctor". At the end of the show, the human had to decide whether to let the Doctor back out of the watch, essentially killing the human dreams and life he could have had; or to give the time-lord/watch to the bad guys and live out his life as a human. The agony and the angst that he went through making that decision mirror the feelings and fears that I'm wrestling with at the moment.
I am at the crossroads. Am I really going to do this - killing the comfortable, non-risk taking, squishy and content me? Am I ready to log what I eat? am I ready to not eat the not-good-for-me yummies that taste so good? Or am I going to give that watch away and live life as a sofa?
I'll admit it. I'm scared. Really scared. That down-deep in the pit of your stomach and whirling around your brain scared. The kind of scared that makes your arms numb. Yea. THAT scared -- the scared that's usually reserved for really big screw-ups at work, or you left your FB page open for your mother to read. The bizarre thing is, I'm not really sure why.
I'm not afraid of change, so that can't be it. I'm not afraid of exercise - I don't like it, but I've done it before. I'm not afraid of healthy food - I actually like it. Why the hell am I so scared?
Maybe, just maybe, it's the thing that I'm terrified of more than anything else in the world...the unknown. I would have never made a good companion to the Doctor. The thought of walking out of the tardis into an unknown world would paralyze me. I have to know what's coming, where I'm going, what's going to happen next. And I don't know what's going to happen: will I succeed? will it be hard? will I have problems? how bad is it going to be? how will I fit this in my schedule?
I am NOT one of those people who can say, one day at a time. I need to see what's coming down the pike. I abhor the unknown.
Deep Breath... in.. and out.... in... and out... ok. feeling a bit better now. I've faced scary things before - life-flight, career changes, childrearing. I CAN do this. and I will.
Little steps at a time, and lots of breathing.
Sigh. It must have been the derranged skinny person who lives inside me. She's been knocking. She's been trying to get out for a while. I love her. I hate her. I AM her. I'm still not sure I want to do this, but as I've said before it's time.
As I type I'm remembering a Dr. Who episode (David Tennant, thank you very much) where the Doctor had placed the time-lord part of himself inside a watch and the person that was left was human, and didn't even remember that he was "The Doctor". At the end of the show, the human had to decide whether to let the Doctor back out of the watch, essentially killing the human dreams and life he could have had; or to give the time-lord/watch to the bad guys and live out his life as a human. The agony and the angst that he went through making that decision mirror the feelings and fears that I'm wrestling with at the moment.
I am at the crossroads. Am I really going to do this - killing the comfortable, non-risk taking, squishy and content me? Am I ready to log what I eat? am I ready to not eat the not-good-for-me yummies that taste so good? Or am I going to give that watch away and live life as a sofa?
I'll admit it. I'm scared. Really scared. That down-deep in the pit of your stomach and whirling around your brain scared. The kind of scared that makes your arms numb. Yea. THAT scared -- the scared that's usually reserved for really big screw-ups at work, or you left your FB page open for your mother to read. The bizarre thing is, I'm not really sure why.
I'm not afraid of change, so that can't be it. I'm not afraid of exercise - I don't like it, but I've done it before. I'm not afraid of healthy food - I actually like it. Why the hell am I so scared?
Maybe, just maybe, it's the thing that I'm terrified of more than anything else in the world...the unknown. I would have never made a good companion to the Doctor. The thought of walking out of the tardis into an unknown world would paralyze me. I have to know what's coming, where I'm going, what's going to happen next. And I don't know what's going to happen: will I succeed? will it be hard? will I have problems? how bad is it going to be? how will I fit this in my schedule?
I am NOT one of those people who can say, one day at a time. I need to see what's coming down the pike. I abhor the unknown.
Deep Breath... in.. and out.... in... and out... ok. feeling a bit better now. I've faced scary things before - life-flight, career changes, childrearing. I CAN do this. and I will.
Little steps at a time, and lots of breathing.
Friday, January 6, 2012
It's time
Well, I've been thinking about it for years, talking about it for almost as long, but I have finally named it. I am wearing a fat suit. The me inside is thinner, healthier and more beautiful. But this damn fat suit keeps me wearing "fat clothes" and keeps the world from seeing the real me.
This may not seem like much to most of the world, but the naming of this revelation is huge for me. I've always felt it and tried to describe it, but words never quite did my situation justice. And then one day, chatting with a friend, it came to me... The fat suit.
The fat suit is a shell, covering my true interior, hiding the precious me inside. It crept up on me and enveloped me and I did nothing to stop it. Ok, I admit it, I am lazy and undisciplined - I've known this forever. But what I didn't realize was the effect that my laziness and lack of discipline would have on my appearance. I'm sick of looking in the mirror and peering deeply to see if perhaps some semblance of the old me is still there... yup, it is. But it is hidden so far inside this awful shell that it takes some time to see it.
In my head, I'm still the same. I'm a size 10, longish hair, fairly decent features (although my nose is a bit too big for my taste) and intense eyes. To the outside world, I'm a size 22 with a square face, more chins than I care to count and those same intense eyes. My nose is a little less prominant with a bigger face, but it's still pretty good sized. Oh, and those damn wrinkles, ugh! They have been my companions for many moons now and will continue to be - but them, I can live with - the fat suit, no longer!
It has taken me years to come to this point. Years of pining, and wishing and imagining that I'm my old self again. None of which have done anything to get rid of the fat suit surrounding me. Sigh.
The only thing that there is left to do is work at getting rid of this thing. Jesus, I wish I could just unzip it and step out of it - but that ain't gonna happen. I want to go back to wearing fantastic clothes and turning heads as I walk confidently down the street - without Sciatica and Plantar Faschiaitis as my constant companions. I want to go back to walking in a store, picking something up off the rack and looking at it thinking how wonderful it will look on me - not "will it cover my stomach rolls enough?"
And so, with my desire for change finally stronger than my comfort in the status quo, I'm ready to begin. I have friends who will support me and guide me on my way. I'm fully aware of the changes that I will need to make. I will have to start logging what I eat, exercizing regularly and eating healthier foods. It sounds innocuous enough - but to me, well, you might as well be asking me to scale Mount Kilamonjaro. Naked. In the winter. Carrying Orson Wells on my back.
But, it's time. And so, as I prepare to begin a different way of life, I am bidding adieu to many of my favorite foods - oh, not permenantly, but at least the joy of guiltlessly eating them. Tuesday, it was KFC. Tonight, oh, joy! Bacon Pizza. Next will have to be chicken wings. Yes, definitely chicken wings... Finally, Chinese and Five guys (oh my how those guys can cook). Oh, don't worry Five guys -- I will occasionally partake, but for me it won't be without consequence. I will endure extra workouts, less at another meal, there are ways... But for now, I'm enjoying these treats with all of the exuberance of a child who has discovered their first hot fudge sunday.
I've chosen Friday the 13th as the first day of my new journey - appropriate, no? And so with a week to go, I prepare: finding sneakers, looking up and preparing food logger, ridding the house of treats, and yes, savoring every last morsel of guilt free pleasure that I have deemed as a few of my favorite things. It's a mixture of pleasure and pain, you know. I'm so excited that I will finally be on the road to shedding the fat suit, and so sad and scared about what it's going to take to get to that point.
As I've said, I have friends to help me along the path, and they are a consolation and a joy and a help. But the reality is - this has got to come from me. It's all me - no one can choose what I put in my mouth, no one can get me out of bed to work out before everybody else gets up, and no one, not anyone can take away my determination.
This may not seem like much to most of the world, but the naming of this revelation is huge for me. I've always felt it and tried to describe it, but words never quite did my situation justice. And then one day, chatting with a friend, it came to me... The fat suit.
The fat suit is a shell, covering my true interior, hiding the precious me inside. It crept up on me and enveloped me and I did nothing to stop it. Ok, I admit it, I am lazy and undisciplined - I've known this forever. But what I didn't realize was the effect that my laziness and lack of discipline would have on my appearance. I'm sick of looking in the mirror and peering deeply to see if perhaps some semblance of the old me is still there... yup, it is. But it is hidden so far inside this awful shell that it takes some time to see it.
In my head, I'm still the same. I'm a size 10, longish hair, fairly decent features (although my nose is a bit too big for my taste) and intense eyes. To the outside world, I'm a size 22 with a square face, more chins than I care to count and those same intense eyes. My nose is a little less prominant with a bigger face, but it's still pretty good sized. Oh, and those damn wrinkles, ugh! They have been my companions for many moons now and will continue to be - but them, I can live with - the fat suit, no longer!
It has taken me years to come to this point. Years of pining, and wishing and imagining that I'm my old self again. None of which have done anything to get rid of the fat suit surrounding me. Sigh.
The only thing that there is left to do is work at getting rid of this thing. Jesus, I wish I could just unzip it and step out of it - but that ain't gonna happen. I want to go back to wearing fantastic clothes and turning heads as I walk confidently down the street - without Sciatica and Plantar Faschiaitis as my constant companions. I want to go back to walking in a store, picking something up off the rack and looking at it thinking how wonderful it will look on me - not "will it cover my stomach rolls enough?"
And so, with my desire for change finally stronger than my comfort in the status quo, I'm ready to begin. I have friends who will support me and guide me on my way. I'm fully aware of the changes that I will need to make. I will have to start logging what I eat, exercizing regularly and eating healthier foods. It sounds innocuous enough - but to me, well, you might as well be asking me to scale Mount Kilamonjaro. Naked. In the winter. Carrying Orson Wells on my back.
But, it's time. And so, as I prepare to begin a different way of life, I am bidding adieu to many of my favorite foods - oh, not permenantly, but at least the joy of guiltlessly eating them. Tuesday, it was KFC. Tonight, oh, joy! Bacon Pizza. Next will have to be chicken wings. Yes, definitely chicken wings... Finally, Chinese and Five guys (oh my how those guys can cook). Oh, don't worry Five guys -- I will occasionally partake, but for me it won't be without consequence. I will endure extra workouts, less at another meal, there are ways... But for now, I'm enjoying these treats with all of the exuberance of a child who has discovered their first hot fudge sunday.
I've chosen Friday the 13th as the first day of my new journey - appropriate, no? And so with a week to go, I prepare: finding sneakers, looking up and preparing food logger, ridding the house of treats, and yes, savoring every last morsel of guilt free pleasure that I have deemed as a few of my favorite things. It's a mixture of pleasure and pain, you know. I'm so excited that I will finally be on the road to shedding the fat suit, and so sad and scared about what it's going to take to get to that point.
As I've said, I have friends to help me along the path, and they are a consolation and a joy and a help. But the reality is - this has got to come from me. It's all me - no one can choose what I put in my mouth, no one can get me out of bed to work out before everybody else gets up, and no one, not anyone can take away my determination.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Where did these lines come from?
It seems like everyone around me is in a very reflective mood. I guess I'm fitting into that right now too. I've seen a lot, been a lot of places, and met so many wonderful people. Some of whom have moved on, either in life or in new life. It seems as if the time I've had has been incredibly short, and yet, looking back, it's impossible for it to have been even remotely brief. I'm 42. I've been in ministry for almost 20 years and am looking at my life right now. Is this what I want to be for the rest of my life?
Considering that I have no idea how long my life will last (if you've ever seen alt 40, you'd probably wager with me that I've got a 50/50 chance of making it home tonight.) I have no idea what I want to be for the rest of it.
I don't have a bucket list, don't want to. I think it's a waste of time, because so many wonderful things come my way that to wish for big things is silly. But I can tell you that my time in parish ministry will be ending soon. Not today, not tomorrow, but in a while. I have no idea where God wants me to go next, but I know that it's different. I'm ok with that. now. I'm still struggling with the unknown, but that's ok too. I may never own that production company I've always dreamed of, I may never work for a great newspaper, I don't think I'd want that anyway, I'm in such a different place than I've been in the past.
I have such good freinds and such wonderful expereinces to look back on, I can only anticipate with joy where I'll go next. But can someone please tell me, where did these lines on my face come from?
Considering that I have no idea how long my life will last (if you've ever seen alt 40, you'd probably wager with me that I've got a 50/50 chance of making it home tonight.) I have no idea what I want to be for the rest of it.
I don't have a bucket list, don't want to. I think it's a waste of time, because so many wonderful things come my way that to wish for big things is silly. But I can tell you that my time in parish ministry will be ending soon. Not today, not tomorrow, but in a while. I have no idea where God wants me to go next, but I know that it's different. I'm ok with that. now. I'm still struggling with the unknown, but that's ok too. I may never own that production company I've always dreamed of, I may never work for a great newspaper, I don't think I'd want that anyway, I'm in such a different place than I've been in the past.
I have such good freinds and such wonderful expereinces to look back on, I can only anticipate with joy where I'll go next. But can someone please tell me, where did these lines on my face come from?
Monday, September 21, 2009
Does it make a difference?
I'm at my desk being completely depressed about ministry. I feel for Jesus dealing with his disciples - he offers the banquet of eternal life, and still they walk away. How hard we try to show people the Gift that Christ has given us, the chance to live eternally with him; only to have soccer or band or work or golf overshadow it.
How can we change the world when the world doesn't want to change?
How can we change the world when the world doesn't want to change?
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
What was I thinking?
Big Dreams, small abilities. I've done 3 out of 5 workshops so far on the History of Liturgy. Those who come seem to be enjoying it, but I'm getting so tired of it. I'm procrastinating and wishing I was anywhere else - like working on a podcast or camping. It seems like what starts out as a great idea gets dragged into a long, arduous task that never ends!
I wonder if the Tech world is like that too. We come up with some great ideas and folks are interested, but when it comes to implementing we lose steam. I've heard some fantastic ideas lately and I wonder: who's going to do it?
I wonder if the Tech world is like that too. We come up with some great ideas and folks are interested, but when it comes to implementing we lose steam. I've heard some fantastic ideas lately and I wonder: who's going to do it?
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Growing fast
I've been so busy with life that I haven't taken time to even think, let alone think about what I'm thinking.
I've started thinking (usually over drinks with a bunch of my old fart friends in the bar) that the world is so far ahead of us that we in the catechetical world are no where near being able to catch up, let alone actually do it. Kids and young adults don't even think in the same way we did! We need to grow up and get a movin....
The one thing I've been wondering personally is: what makes one person able to do what another person thinks? I've been having so many thoughts on the fact that we in catechesis are thinking that we're catching up, when we're in the dust. When I share that I've had a lot of thoughts on this, people tell me that we need to have a think tank. Come to find out I've been beaten to the punch! I think I'm just too scared to actually step out and ask folks, that they'll laugh because I'm such a smalltime geek...But I'm happy, because the conversation really needs to happen. Is there room for more than one conversation?
I've started thinking (usually over drinks with a bunch of my old fart friends in the bar) that the world is so far ahead of us that we in the catechetical world are no where near being able to catch up, let alone actually do it. Kids and young adults don't even think in the same way we did! We need to grow up and get a movin....
The one thing I've been wondering personally is: what makes one person able to do what another person thinks? I've been having so many thoughts on the fact that we in catechesis are thinking that we're catching up, when we're in the dust. When I share that I've had a lot of thoughts on this, people tell me that we need to have a think tank. Come to find out I've been beaten to the punch! I think I'm just too scared to actually step out and ask folks, that they'll laugh because I'm such a smalltime geek...But I'm happy, because the conversation really needs to happen. Is there room for more than one conversation?
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