letter to 8 year old me

i watched this one on one of the dreamy blogs.

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dear 8 year old self:

i know you cried when you asked for spaghetti and meatballs for your birthday after you took one bite and realized it was turkey burger.  ewwwww.  you probably looked really snobby and spoiled.  but i guess it was your birthday, and you shouldn't have to eat healthy grossness on your birthday.  sometimes moms forget these things.  it's not their fault.  they do make the best chocolate orange birthday cakes in the whole wide world.

but try not to worry.  some day, when you're really old (like as old as your "when i grow up" assignment in school, where you're going to be married and have 3 kids and be an art teacher, or pilot, or whatever was the career choice of the day at that point), 25 whole years old, you will try turkey burger again and find that it really is as delicious as your mom told you it is.

the trick is to go to your favorite tea house slash bistro and order their special of the day, which is a feta thyme turkey burger.  you can even get it with salt and vinegar chips, which you will also grow to like someday.  will the surprises never cease??

when this happens (i know you don't believe me, but it will), make sure you tell your mom so she can gloat and tell you how moms are always right, and she knew it all along.  because she deserves it.  after you made her look practically abusive for crying in front of everyone on your birthday (at least, that's how you will remember it when you're old as dirt).

love,
your very very very old dinosaur bones self

hair adventures

apparently the movie les miserables just came out.  i have seen the musical, and it's pretty fantastic.  i found this little gem when i was...working really hard on things.  it's pretty impressive.  watch it when you have time, because it's worth watching the whole thing.

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so yoga.  is hot.  and awesome.  and sweaty.  as in, just jumped in the pool, dripping on the floor, sweaty.  so hot and sweaty that you must shower afterwards (which is a given after working out).  and you must wash your hair.  because it is also drenched and sweaty and gross.


those of you who know me very well know that i only like to wash my hair every few days.  originally this started because i liked to sleep in until 15 minutes before class, get up and get ready in 5 minutes, and then ride my bike for 5 minutes to school, and get there 5 minutes early.  (that was the plan, anyways.  sometimes i was 5 minutes late.  or so...)

but then, my hair started to feel and look really nice once it got used to my laziness.  and my scalp stopped being so wyoming dry.  and i didn't have to blow dry/straighten/blah blah blah my hair every single day.


back to yoga.  all this showering is getting rough on my hair.  i don't want it to get untrained and need shampoo every day.  because it's healthier when it doesn't get shampoo every day.

so, i tried something, that i think is going to turn out amazing!  i once read a fancy article about washing your hair with no shampoo.  you just use baking soda and vinegar or lemon juice.  everyone is so grossed out by it, but honestly, it can't be any grosser than going 3 days without washing your hair right?  ok scratch that.   it can't be any grosser than working on a fire for a week with ash and dirt and grossness in your hair.  and i survived that.

my hair is still wet from my shower, but it combed surprisingly easy, and feels fine as of right now.
i'll let you know how it turns out.

you know who you are.

happy valentine's, valentine. 

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don't worry if we're billions of miles away this year.  next year you can take me out and buy me fancy gifts!  or just make me a valentine.  i like those too.

i'm a yogi bear! as in yoga, yogi. not picnic basket, yogi.

did i ever mention that i started doing bikram yoga?  i got a groupon a while ago.  and then put off going, because it's always a little scary to go the first time by yourself.

and then in december, maybe, i went and almost died.  it's 90 minutes of 105 degree weather.  they told me my goal for my first time was just to stay in the room.  and that was a lofty goal, not even kidding.

so i didn't go again until after i went home for winter break.  when i came back i planned to go about 3 times a week.  but i put it off and so had to go for 4 days straight the last week before my groupon expired.  of course, i didn't want to waste my money so i made myself go every day.

i was so dreading the last week.

and then, suddenly, on day 3, it turned from torture to therapy.  it was amazing.  i felt amazing.  i started figuring out the postures.

day 4 was even better.  it even started to feel cool.  i seriously wondered if they turned the heat down.

so i bought a membership.  and i got a discount because it was january.  and because i was on the last day of my groupon.  and because i'm a student.  and now i get to go whenever i want.

i'm working on doing many days in a row again.  and i think i'll keep going for a while.  i had a rough day at school the other day and was all mopey and didn't even try to drink a lot of water because i was too pouty to go to yoga.  then i woke up from my nap and wanted to go, because it seemed like it would make me feel better.  and it did!

the only thing is, is that i'm finding it hard to fit in my running....have to work on that, i guess.

so here is one of the poses and how it's supposed to look:

and here is how i look (plus a little bit of torture on the face):

but it's cool, because no matter how much you do, they still say you're awesome and that you're benefitting, because "you're trying."

they should probably be motivational speakers on their days off.

this may or may not be getting out of hand.

for some reason i have been thinking about this one lately.

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remember that time i had this revelation about dreamy blogs?

well, it reminded me how i have always been this firm believer in expression.  therapy is good.  talking is good.  writing is good.  heck, crying is good.

i survived my "traumatic" adolescence by writing in a journal and even in a poetry journal.  yes, i wrote devastating, woe-is-me, 13 year old poetry.  and i wasn't bad at it, either.  when i was brave, i would submit it for young author's competitions in school, and win almost every time (not bragging, just stating facts, kids.).

and then i guess i got busy.  i got distracted.  yes, i would use my journal when something bad happened.  like a bad grade or a fat day or a broken heart.  but my journal became less of an every day occurrence, and more of a record of all the bad things that happened to me.  i didn't use my writing and expression as "preventative maintenance" anymore, but as a quick escape when the stress became too much for my body to handle.

which is fine.  because at least i was decompressing somehow.  but a little sad, too.

it's like anything else, i guess.  it's so easy to get out of the habit, and then you lose your "skills."  maybe it's like working out, and i'm out of writing shape.

guess i'll just have to get back in shape...