A school friend told me his girlfriend broke up with him yesterday. This guy is one of those class-clown, everything is a joke kind of guys. He brushed off the terminated relationship, but I think deep below that he's really lonely.
I didn't know what to offer him when he told me about his ex. I just listened as we road the college shuttle bus together. He started to sound upbeat again when he changed the subject to the NFL playoffs, comparing the Ravens' loss to the Giants' win, both coming down to a field goal. I think the loss the Ravens went through, being the underdogs and getting so close to the Super Bowl, missing by only a kick, helped him put his relationship into some perspective. This would have sounded so strange to me when I knew nothing about football, but it helps me to understand a different kind of loss.
When it comes to football, I still know just a little bit above nothing, but I was really happy that by learning more about this sport, I could have a conversation with this guy that seemed to raise his spirits. This wouldn't be possible only months earlier!
Monday, January 23, 2012
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Packers vs. Giants
I am so proud of myself for watching my first NFL playoff game today: Green Bay Packers vs. New York Giants. In previous years, if I read that first line, I wouldn't even know what I was talking about. Packers? Giants? It would have meant nothing to me. I knew a touchdown meant football; that was about the extent of my knowledge.
I decided to watch football to become closer with my brothers. My brother who lives in Tuscon is a huge Packers fan; my brother who lives here in Utah was rooting for the Giants. The Giants won 37 to 20, and I think the hail Mary put the game in the Giants favor. I was rooting for the Packers, but at least I know what a hail Mary is now. This is also the first time I've watched a game where my team lost (because I've watched enough games to count on one hand!).
I am thinking I would like to watch the Super Bowl this year. I don't know who to root for... the Packers are out now; I'll continue to adopt my brothers' teams before I develop my own preference. I used to think football was boring and dumb; it just seemed like a bunch of big guys jumping on top of each other. The more I watch it, the more I appreciate it for its complexity. I think the Packers didn't give up today, although they seemed to have anxiety with so many fumbles. Fumbles? Is that even the word I'm looking for? I know so little; it's like a joke, but I'm laughing at it and willing to learn more.
I decided to watch football to become closer with my brothers. My brother who lives in Tuscon is a huge Packers fan; my brother who lives here in Utah was rooting for the Giants. The Giants won 37 to 20, and I think the hail Mary put the game in the Giants favor. I was rooting for the Packers, but at least I know what a hail Mary is now. This is also the first time I've watched a game where my team lost (because I've watched enough games to count on one hand!).
I am thinking I would like to watch the Super Bowl this year. I don't know who to root for... the Packers are out now; I'll continue to adopt my brothers' teams before I develop my own preference. I used to think football was boring and dumb; it just seemed like a bunch of big guys jumping on top of each other. The more I watch it, the more I appreciate it for its complexity. I think the Packers didn't give up today, although they seemed to have anxiety with so many fumbles. Fumbles? Is that even the word I'm looking for? I know so little; it's like a joke, but I'm laughing at it and willing to learn more.
Saturday, January 7, 2012
I am a Closet Crier
When I decided to do something new each week for a year, I expected such an adventurous year would be wildly happy, but sometimes it was the exact opposite.
All these new experiences did make me happier overall, but only after facing people and parts of myself that left me sobbing in my bed at times I felt I should be smiling. I am a closet crier; I cry more often than people probably realize, since it's almost always when alone.
I am afraid of being rejected for showing my true feelings. I carried that fear with me when I wrote the first draft of my manuscript. Like a good girl, I edited out all the pain I experienced, keeping it as hidden as I could.
A good example of this is my chapter about the Ogden Half Marathon. I never thought I would run 13.1 miles; I still have my finisher's medal hanging by my window. But what I remember most from that day happened right after the marathon, and I dared not write a word about it.
I had met someone as a result of my new experiences. I ran faster during my half marathon because I knew he would be waiting at the finish line. My family would also be there, and this is the first time he would meet them.
I was twenty-six at the time; he was nineteen. I looked up to him because he lived on his own and in some ways had more life experience than I did, seven years his senior.
As I ran, I imagined how great it would be for him to meet my family. In Utah, most people marry young; the average age for a woman to marry is nineteen, and here I was twenty-six. My family sometimes wondered why I was single, and now I had someone to introduce to them.
When they met him, my younger sister, Tiffani, also nineteen, looked like a younger version of me with perfect makeup and hair in contrast to my sweaty self. I could not help but make the comparison. I even had orange legs! In an attempt to look more attractive for this guy, I had used a spray-on tanner that didn't quite match the rest of me, so I looked like I had eaten one too many carrots.
Later that day when I asked my older sister, Cari, what she thought of this guy, she said, "I probably shouldn't tell you." Of course this only made me press for an answer, so she said, "Well, he was looking at Tiffani a lot."
I already knew it was true even before she said it. I knew exactly what she meant by it, too. I could only be grateful that we were alone at the time.
I certainly did not want to write about that in a book. Instead I wrote about the different kinds of buses driving runners down Ogden Valley to the starting line, about conversations I had with people who have no significance in the story, and about the color of my timing chip that recorded my time during the race. Riveting, I know!
The truth is that for a long time after this guy met my family right after my race, I felt like a failure; regardless of how far or fast I ran, in the end, I am undesirable.
By censoring the real feelings I had that day, I do not give myself a chance to overcome the bigger picture: not just 13.1 miles, but the damaging self-images that kept my heart in chains.
The crushing disappointment of this guy meeting my family is now going in the book.
All these new experiences did make me happier overall, but only after facing people and parts of myself that left me sobbing in my bed at times I felt I should be smiling. I am a closet crier; I cry more often than people probably realize, since it's almost always when alone.
I am afraid of being rejected for showing my true feelings. I carried that fear with me when I wrote the first draft of my manuscript. Like a good girl, I edited out all the pain I experienced, keeping it as hidden as I could.
A good example of this is my chapter about the Ogden Half Marathon. I never thought I would run 13.1 miles; I still have my finisher's medal hanging by my window. But what I remember most from that day happened right after the marathon, and I dared not write a word about it.
I had met someone as a result of my new experiences. I ran faster during my half marathon because I knew he would be waiting at the finish line. My family would also be there, and this is the first time he would meet them.
I was twenty-six at the time; he was nineteen. I looked up to him because he lived on his own and in some ways had more life experience than I did, seven years his senior.
As I ran, I imagined how great it would be for him to meet my family. In Utah, most people marry young; the average age for a woman to marry is nineteen, and here I was twenty-six. My family sometimes wondered why I was single, and now I had someone to introduce to them.
When they met him, my younger sister, Tiffani, also nineteen, looked like a younger version of me with perfect makeup and hair in contrast to my sweaty self. I could not help but make the comparison. I even had orange legs! In an attempt to look more attractive for this guy, I had used a spray-on tanner that didn't quite match the rest of me, so I looked like I had eaten one too many carrots.
Later that day when I asked my older sister, Cari, what she thought of this guy, she said, "I probably shouldn't tell you." Of course this only made me press for an answer, so she said, "Well, he was looking at Tiffani a lot."
I already knew it was true even before she said it. I knew exactly what she meant by it, too. I could only be grateful that we were alone at the time.
I certainly did not want to write about that in a book. Instead I wrote about the different kinds of buses driving runners down Ogden Valley to the starting line, about conversations I had with people who have no significance in the story, and about the color of my timing chip that recorded my time during the race. Riveting, I know!
The truth is that for a long time after this guy met my family right after my race, I felt like a failure; regardless of how far or fast I ran, in the end, I am undesirable.
By censoring the real feelings I had that day, I do not give myself a chance to overcome the bigger picture: not just 13.1 miles, but the damaging self-images that kept my heart in chains.
The crushing disappointment of this guy meeting my family is now going in the book.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Happy New Year 2012
Two years ago, my new year's resolution was to write a book about my new experiences every week for a year. I finished my first complete draft on December 31, 2010. The plan seemed simple: spend 2009 living the book, 2010 writing the book, and 2011 publishing the book. It seemed logical to me. After all, I gave myself three years!
So now that 2011 is over, did I accomplish that goal? Not even close. And I'm glad, because after about three months of sending queries for my manuscript, enough time passed to realize my sitting manuscript was in no means ready for publication.
I've done a lot of writing in my life, but this is the first time I've written something past two hundred pages. I've had over a dozen book ideas, but I usually don't even make it past the first few chapters, or even the first few pages. What I realized as a first timer is that a book should be like a good landscape painting: there are dramatic rises and falls, as well as some even ground, but there must always be a clear path to follow. Some of my new experinces are irrelevant and probably boring to the reader, so I'm finding ways to consolidate them with the better ones while focusing on the key points that build the story.
I don't know when I'm going to be done revising; it could be ten months or ten years. I know what I need to do, but it's easier said than written well.
Furthermore, that year of new experiences truly changed me, and now I'm in my second semester back as a full-time college student. Through some of my new experiences I decided I wanted to be an art professor, but I still have a long way to go on that, as well. So I'm hesitant to make any 2012 new year's resolutions about the book, other than to revise. I scheduled an hour every day to work on my book, but that's only if I've finished all of my homework, so it will be hit or miss.
Regardless of the rate of progress, I still believe in my book as much as I ever did, if not more. I know that sounds cliched, but it is true. It made such a difference in my life, I can't help but think it will make a difference in someone else's life. All that change is very scary, but so liberating! Life is so much better with new experiences. Even today, I cooked salmon for the first time in my life (and it was delicious). I never knew it was as easy as a little seasoning and butter, preheating the oven to 350 degrees, and coming back in fifteen minutes!
So here's to a happy new year of focusing on school, revising my manuscript in my spare time, and eating salmon!
So now that 2011 is over, did I accomplish that goal? Not even close. And I'm glad, because after about three months of sending queries for my manuscript, enough time passed to realize my sitting manuscript was in no means ready for publication.
I've done a lot of writing in my life, but this is the first time I've written something past two hundred pages. I've had over a dozen book ideas, but I usually don't even make it past the first few chapters, or even the first few pages. What I realized as a first timer is that a book should be like a good landscape painting: there are dramatic rises and falls, as well as some even ground, but there must always be a clear path to follow. Some of my new experinces are irrelevant and probably boring to the reader, so I'm finding ways to consolidate them with the better ones while focusing on the key points that build the story.
I don't know when I'm going to be done revising; it could be ten months or ten years. I know what I need to do, but it's easier said than written well.
Furthermore, that year of new experiences truly changed me, and now I'm in my second semester back as a full-time college student. Through some of my new experiences I decided I wanted to be an art professor, but I still have a long way to go on that, as well. So I'm hesitant to make any 2012 new year's resolutions about the book, other than to revise. I scheduled an hour every day to work on my book, but that's only if I've finished all of my homework, so it will be hit or miss.
Regardless of the rate of progress, I still believe in my book as much as I ever did, if not more. I know that sounds cliched, but it is true. It made such a difference in my life, I can't help but think it will make a difference in someone else's life. All that change is very scary, but so liberating! Life is so much better with new experiences. Even today, I cooked salmon for the first time in my life (and it was delicious). I never knew it was as easy as a little seasoning and butter, preheating the oven to 350 degrees, and coming back in fifteen minutes!
So here's to a happy new year of focusing on school, revising my manuscript in my spare time, and eating salmon!
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