BFF

We met when I was four and she was two.  I used to call her Harmonica, because I didn't get 'Monica'.  I knew what harmonica was, though.  We used to play in the woods and make up stories, draw stories, tell stories.  We lived in imaginary worlds that to this day seem more real to me than the world we actually lived in.

Then we discovered music.  Both taking up the guitar in '78, we became the 'Nurk Twins' like John and Paul- the 'Grofe Ensemble', 'Webbed Head' and wrote songs like "Idiosyncratic Men" and "the Harried Reporter".  Eventually we paired up with a couple of other adorable chicks and formed a band called 'Damsel' that only played obscure Beatles songs. In our bare feet.  I was the oldest and I was barely sixteen. Yes, it was cute.

Eventually growing up took place and she moved out to Maine, and then Jersey, we both had kids of our own and busy lives.  Even so, we can still pick up the phone or Skype and pick up exactly at the same place we last left off no matter how much time has transpired.  And that's what besties do, after all.

What a Difference a Day Makes...

I realized today that it's been a good long while since I blogged.  So much has transpired when I look at the months between my last post and this one, it would take a Tolkien-like trilogy to really describe it all.  Astonishing, actually.  I wish I had kept up with the story-telling during that time, because it would have made a rather good read.  At least for me looking back. I don't know about anyone else... But then a blog is sort of an open journal thing, so ultimately it's not about whether anyone else really cares to read it, but just the putting my little story out there, partly to process, partly to show that we all are muddling through this time on the pale blue dot and it's 'okay to feel messed up sometimes'.

Lots of crazy shifts up down and sideways and I find myself mid-2014 in a totally different plane of existence. " And I remember that some of it wasn't very nice. But most of it was beautiful..."

"

It's a bit like arriving in a new world... sort of like Dorothy, or Ollie in the Plane of Imaginings - who BTW is supposed to see print in the graphic novel of Return of the Exile in a month or so.  That's ONE of the many things that have transpired in my life and the lives of others.

I've lost weight, saw one child through some monumental challenges, and another child climb towards a life goal that is very nearly in reach.  Many other things large and small have transpired, but for me personally I have to admit that the largest shift has been relating to love.  Come on, the Beatles said it best- "all you need is love", and when I read my past writings, no matter how hard I have tried to deny it, the statement is very true.

I am in love. It feels more real than other love I have experienced, but I know that is the thing about real love- it fixes the past wounds and you feel healed.  Like everyone said it would it came out of nowhere, when I wasn't expecting it and was and continues to be effortless. Not that the relationship is effortless because such a thing does not exist- we're both middle aged and have lived and continue to live with many challenges, but the love itself, just IS.  Just effortlessly arrived and is there, real as can be.

I say all that mushy crap as one who has looked at 'the L word' with jaded trepidation since her sudden, shocking divorce almost 14 years ago.  But now, the cynicism is melting away.  Because this fellow has shown me that love isn't really love if you have walls in place- and he's proved to be pretty good at demolishing that fortress around my heart.  Onward into the sun!

The Gym Rat Rant

I'm not a Gym Rat in capital letters- you know, one of those types all decked out in expensive Nike clothing with monitors attached all over their bodies to check dissipating calories, pulse rate, blood sugars, weather in Cairo, how many ounces of feces they are carrying,  etc.  I don't go to the gym to pick up men, impress anyone, converse, or network... I go simply in an attempt to fight fat. Because unlike Capital Letter Gym Rat, I have fat, and I'm not pretty about how I get rid of it so I don't much want to spend time at the gym doing anything else.  My water bottle is scuffed, my tee shirts have holes in them, and my hair is definitely not coiffed.  Mostly I just use the cardio machines and supplement with the occasional fitness class.  So, while I'm puffing away on the human equivalent of a hamster wheel, I have time to observe the goings on around me.  Or go mad from boredom.

The road to fitness. Or nowhere...

The YMCA that I belong to is a small neighborhood place. You know, sorta like Cheers- where you're familiar with the folks behind the desk and they know your name. The workout room is pretty small, with some brand spanking new weight machines, free weights, and my personal area- the row of cardio machines. Behind this is a ceiling to floor window that overlooks the pool and gives the swimmers a (in my case unfortunate) view of the runners' backsides.  Ahead of you is a wall of unforgiving, and even taunting mirrors.  Yes dear, those running pants DO make your ass look fat because it IS.  Now get going, Sister!!

May I just add here that my true preference is to run on wooded trails in solitude.  I am the most profound of introverts, after all. If you can, imagine dappled sunlight streaming down, the occasional deer peeking out of trees, and few if any other souls around and you have imagined my runner's nirvana. It really is that idealistic, even on the hottest days, and I can clear my head and sweat and pant with careless abandon.  But I ain't doin' that shit in the winter. NO SIR. Remember, I'm not a fancy pants sort of fitness person. And you got to wear those elite Batman tights to run in the winter, and I don't need the YMCA mirror to tell me that 'those don't work for you on that butt of yours right now, dear.  MMM mmm.'

So, I'm resigned to the fact that in colder seasons,  I must work out in a crowded small space with people that I don't know. And that's fine...  usually.  Admittedly, in my head as I grow more weary and sweaty, a crabby internal conversation often takes place as I observe the goings on.  A list of gym archetypes is now formed there,  and I tick off 'there's another ones' as I see them.  Some of the types I could truly do without, but as we are in the first two weeks of the Resolutionary Month (by January 1-15 folks give up on their New Year's goals and the crowds start to dissipate) there are many of them all.

And you don't have to tell me, I'm already sure I'm someone's archetype too.

1. The Grunter: okay, these guys drive me nuts any time of the year.  You get this guy who loads up the bench press or squat press with ... I don't know...whatever... 2 tons (?) of weight (that they REALLY shouldn't be lifting yet) and they let out these roaring caveman grunts with every single exertion. UGH!! Pay attention to me.  UGH!!! Note the amount of weight I am mastering!  UGH!!  LOOK AT ME. UGH! EVERYONE!! UGH! LOOK!  UGH!! LOOK AGAIN!!!UGH!! SEE??? UGH!! SEEE!!  UGH!!!!

2. The Jabberbox Duo  I do understand the premise of 'workout buddy'.  You can motivate one another on those days when you ain't feeling it- your friend will tell you to get off your ass and vice versa. Sometimes I think that it would be great to have a friend that was available to work out all the time, but even if I did, I would probably talk very little. Because for me, getting the most out of my cardio does require some concentration.  Good or bad, I need to focus on pushing myself, and if I try carrying on an inane conversation, it will compromise the fitness component. So the Jabberbox Duos do bring a level of annoyance to my routine.  It's nearly always two slender women, they will either be on treadmills or ellipticals, and while they casually pedal or walk along with what seems as little physical effort as they possibly can, they talk and talk and talk and talk and talk usually loudly enough that I have to turn up my iPod to tune them out.  Oh i know and then we went to san diego and did you know that beth and rob broke up and she found out he was seeing someone else and how many calories are in yoplait and did you see the bachelor the other night and i have a great recipe for lo cal blah blah blah blah.... Girls, please just go to Wit's and dish over coffee - open up these machines to someone who could really use a WORKOUT.

3. The Pacer These are the ones who come in, go the weights area, do maybe eight reps on one machine and then slowly walk in front of the treadmills to the lobby, get a drink, shoot the shit with the guy behind the counter or whatever, and then slowly walk back in and do eight reps on another machine- (or not) and then repeat.  ad infinitum. Back and forth, just pacing around, often with their mouths wide open and vacant stares. They don't want to be there, they don't care, and they give off that vibe and fill the room with it. Usually I can dig in to my focus place and ignore them, but on weaker days, the uninspired attitude of The Pacer can really get me not caring either.

4. The Creeper As the name implies, these folks are just plain creepy. Typically a dude in street clothes you will find them just hanging around the corners of the gym looking around.  You have no idea why they are there, and I suspect they don't either.  A lot of times they are lurking around the scale, which just makes you feel great about weighing yourself.  Go away, Creepers.  Go away.

5. Unsupervised Kidlets  I am ALL for kids hitting the gym with Mom and Dad. I think it's great.  My frustration comes in when little eight year olds take up cardio machines to goof around while dad is grunting on the bench, and mom is jabbering to her buddy.  They'll set the speed at 7 mph and almost fall off for about 20 seconds, then make it stop, then speed it up to 2 mph, then speed it up a little more, hop off while it's moving, get back on, make it stop, walk backwards on it, etc.  Kid stuff.  Not only is this unsafe, but when you are next to these escapades trying not to keep your exhausted self running by staying focused while still in bad shape, it throws off your groove to have the neighbor treadmill being used as a jungle gym.

So that's my Gym Rant. Having said all that, I would also add that there are some folks that truly inspire me while I work out.

1. Geriatric Jocks There are many older members who work out- and I have to say they impress me. These people are making a real effort to keep themselves strong and healthy and I tip my hat to them all.  The one guy that gets the award for Mostest Awesome Senior is the gentleman in his seventies who was still an Iron Man competitor.  The first time I ever saw him, he hopped on a treadmill next to me, set it at 10 mph and ran for 30 minutes without breaking a sweat.  Not an ounce of fat on the guy and he stood as straight as a Marine.  A few weeks later I saw him pedaling an exercise bike at very high tension and reps.  WITH ONE LEG AT A TIME.  Crazy.  Awesome.

2. Hot dudes  (or hot chicks depending on your sexual preference) This is obvious.  We all get this one. Everyone runs a little faster, lifts a little heavier, gives a little more when a babe is in the room.

Addict

I think every human has some level of addiction to something, excluding the very most enlightened Buddhist monks... maybe.  Cigs, booze, coke, porn, shopping, sex,  whatever- we all seem to have a vice or two (or three)

My monkey is food. Hi, I'm Barb and I'm addicted to food. Crunchy, salty, creamy, chocolately, greasy, comforting GLORIOUS food. Who knows how this starts? Let me go on the record that I am not blaming my folks for my adult behaviors, but I come from the 'clean your plate' era, where food was also a soothing or rewarding mana: "Oh, you poor thing!  You had a bad day- here's some cake."  "Good job!  Let's get ice cream to celebrate!"  Spend your entire childhood this way, and the wiring is in place. Stressed? Eat. Scared? Eat.  Sad?  Eat. Happy or celebratory? Eat.

Tricky thing about this addiction is that you can't go cold turkey because, well you kind of starve and that's sort of counter productive to improving your life... yeeeeeaaaahhh.  So it's all about changing the relationship with food from a comfort to a sustenance. Easier said than done, baby. Easier said than done.

My friend Lucy a few years back said, "I'm breaking up with food.  We'll be friends, but the love relationship is OVER."  Lucy battled obesity throughout her childhood, and now here at the tender age of 22 or something, she made a concerted effort to completely change her behavior towards eating.  She carefully selected and measured fresh foods, lean meats, started running, did yoga, and now is a yoga teacher, in a relationship with a yogi, and very healthy and happy. Was it easy? NO.  Does she still battle with it? My guess is yes.

Because with food addiction you are fighting the ancient biology of the brain that descends from that feast or famine time of the nomadic, cave dwelling, feral homo sapiens.  Back then if you had food, you ate as much of that shit as you could because you didn't know when it would be around next time.  You had enough food to get fat?  Great! Get as freaking fat as you could so you could bear healthy babies, stay alive in cold weather, and withstand disease or infections.  Trust me, a hat rack fashion model would NOT have survived those times, or have been desirable to the tribe leader either.  Child bearing requires fat.

Food makers know this is still in our deep instinctive natures, and like the pushers they are they manufacture foods that will light up the addiction centers of our brain like Christmas trees with perfectly engineered colors and crunches.  These also just happen to be the foods that are least expensive to manufacture, with the highest level of profit margin. These processed brilliantly colored 'foodstuffs' are also the least healthy consumables for our bodies even if our brains are fooled into thinking the opposite.

So I'm addicted to food.  Given in to the shiny goodies.  I've yoyo dieted, lost and gained more times than I can count. Five years ago, I went on a quest to get in shape- I was 80 lbs overweight, couldn't jog a tenth of a mile, and panted when I walked up stairs.  Within a year and a half, I ran 4-5 miles a day, had lost 74 lbs, lifted weights three days a week, and looked and felt better at the age of 46 than I had my entire life.  Weighed less than I did in high school, loved to exercise.... it was great. I really thought my days of being obese were behind me forever.  Cleaned all the 'fat pants' out of my dresser and closet and closed that chapter of my life for good.

Not so fast.

Here is how addiction works- at least for me.  I gained all the excessive weight in the first place because I gave in to my addiction. I was divorced with two kids, little money,  frequent stressors, scrambling every day to get by blabity blah blah.  The one thing I could count on at that chaotic and frightening time in my life is that for the few minutes I was noshing on some high calorie decadent munchie, I felt good. Never mind that afterwards I was bloated and miserable.   While eating, the happy place in my brain was on fire.

When I made the decision to work out, things were looking up in my life.  My freelance business was doing well, I had met someone, my kids and parents were pretty stable.  I made an effort to use running as my stress reliever INSTEAD of food, and it was working.  The more slender I became, the easier that got. Stressors, as always, came along, but I was dealing with them in a healthy way and all was well.

Watch me change this!

But then I got smacked with 'big stuff stressors' in spades. A layoff here,  a child moving out of the house, death of a beloved pet, a breakup, and another breakup, a daughter in the hospital three times, a father in the hospital, money problems,  and then taking a second full time sit-down job because my art wasn't cutting it. And that's when it crept back in.  "Wow, that was an awful week. I DESERVE pizza."  "I can't get to the gym, I've been working all day and have to work tonight on artwork" "I NEED chocolate after this day"...

It doesn't happen overnight. It sneaks up on you gradually, silently. One day a favorite pair of pants seem a bit snug.  Then you notice your workout clothes that once hung on your slenderer frame have become like sausage casings.  That's the day you realize that you are 'back there', eating whatever and whenever unchecked.  Giving in to the addiction. Using it to feel better. The result? I gained back 50 lbs.

So, I am back on the wagon, so to speak, fighting the valiant battle of an addict.  A battle almost every one of us wages. One day at a time, denying my cave woman impulses to eat everything in sight, shoving that donut, chocolate and Cool Ranch Doritos® carrying monkey off my back and trying to outrun the temptations on a treadmill. One day at a time.

Challenging

Last two days have been really difficult. I'm doing okay with the diet so that's a good thing and I've been running everyday. But I'm also very scared in other parts of my life.

Fear has always been the biggest component of the challenges I face. It's kept me in situations I shouldn't be I'm and it's kept me out of situations I should be in.  It's difficult for me to deal with other people with my own set of fears, so avoidance of others is often the way that I choose to exist.  This is left me with somewhat poor interpersonal skills and I don't know what to do about it because it requires skill in dealing with others to make yourself understood.

I know what I want out of life and in the past I've never really gotten and I don't know how to get it.  I want to feel safe I want to feel cherished I want to feel all the things that women want to feel.  Maybe nobody really actually does get those things... I don't know ...many people seem like they do on social media or just out and about all so happy.

  I'm one of those people who can feel  like I'm by myself in a crowded room.   It's hard for me to make myself understood but I will keep trying.   The hard part is ignoring the splinter in my heart that I often feel in situations that I can't  articulate bit simply feel the cold sense of terror. 

Big Ole Resolution List '14

2014

Okay, last year's list sorta went all to hell, mostly because I took a part time job that ended up being a full time job and changed all the plans. Then the child kind of went hay wire and there was a lot with that.  It was an interesting year- I was able to handle the struggles that came at me a bit more adeptly, but I'm still hoping for some sort of breakthrough this year.  So, it comes down to a plan.  A big old plan.

Step 1 Fitness
This is a big deal- not just because I have drawers of clothes that don't fit, not because I used to look a lot hotter and don't anymore, no - the important reason is because it really helped my mental state to be in good shape.  I dealt with a lot of shit back then and handled it a lot better than I'm handling lesser things now.  So, that's number one on the list (as it is every year...) physical fitness.  Here is the plan.  It's gotta be hardcore.
•Cardio at least four days a week (6AM two days a week)
•Weights at least two.
•1200-1500 calories
•limit caffeine (no more four pots of coffee days...)
•lots of water
•no alcohol except occasional wine
It's common sense, I've done it before and I need to do it now. I WANT to do it now.
Goal: to lose 50 lbs by November.  Sounds like a lot, but it is definitely doable. just about 5 lbs a month. I'VE DONE IT BEFORE I WILL DO IT AGAIN.
Goal: run a 5K and a 10K

Step 2 Art
This is another important one as the last year has seen an erosion of my creative side that is unprecedented in my life.  The freelance projects have been more design oriented and not really soul feeding creative, and working another job takes a lot of energy.  I plan to stay there though through 2014 because of the piece of mind of a regular pay check is beneficial. But there are many people who would like to see me get back to storytelling and I would too.

So I need to make a plan for this too.
•Do gesture drawing for twenty minutes at least twice a week
•Spend 30-60 minutes a week writing
•choose a project (Dena or Xylia) and make time to work on it at least a few minutes a week
•do a painting a month
•musically- Donut Sharks shows- maybe two

Step 3 Personal
This is a tough one.  But I need to keep working on being more social.  Keeping up with correspondence, meeting with friends for coffee or at shows.

•meet with one friend at least once a week
•keep up with emails- set aside a 45 minute time to do this

Step 4 Miscellaneous 
Keep working at paying stuff off.
Accept help from people when they offer it. (this is a hard one...)
Do some home repairs
Don't sweat small stuff.
Leave the past in the past and don't worry about the future.

Wow that is a bad ass list.  It's all possible.  Just need to stay focused.  Eyes on the prize- which is being balanced and happy. Like any year, it will have its stumbling blocks but it will also have some exciting things too.   2014, you are my bitch.

Barbistar Chaotica

Having one of those Barbistar Chaotica periods.  I've been a little under the weather and didn't sleep well, so I tried to chalk some of it up to mental fatigue, but generally I'm starting to get that antsy feeling of  living in a movie that has no plot. The spinning plates crashing, the Crazy Train off the rails, all that regular bullshit that I've grown to consider my normal for almost 13 years. I know that I have no control over anything, but right now I'm skidding along without a plan and I'm really worried the bridge is out ahead.

I usually take this time of year to write my New Years resolutions and I still want to do that, but I feel so much unease I don't even want to look out that far.  The kid, the parents, a new relationship that scares the hell out of me (because love always does) money issues, finding time to exercise stop this alarming weight gain, working two jobs I feel I don't have a handle on, and desperately missing doing art for MYSELF and wondering if I ever will again.  Right now, everything is scary to look at in any sort of long term way.  And by 'long terml, I mean even as far out as tomorrow.  There seems to be a prevailing sense of that great big shoe waiting to drop- a giant, size 4,000 steel toed boot hovering over my head and waiting to squash me... roller-coaster-in-the-dark nerves... clank clank clank ... climbing that hill you know you are going to go over, just never sure when.

And now I'm being called out if I'm not authentic by someone dear who can tell when I'm faking emotions and won't let me get away with it. This is a very, very good thing, and I know it.  It's going to make me a better person ultimately, but at the same time it's challenging for a couple reasons. Since my M.O. whenever I feel something emotionally negative has been to immediately try to suck it up- something I've never wanted to do or even been good at, but out of duty and the old wiring in my head that emotion is wrong and anything other than stoicism is fail, I've always tried to maintain.  But also it's scary to jump out a window of the familiar and trust that it's not a mistake and that this other person, or any person, will accept me despite my strong component of feeling so deeply.  The curse of the creative idealist- a livewire conduit to the depth of human emotion.  It's what drives people away, and drives me crazy.  It's what makes me want to draw emotionally charged images and stories, and what makes me feel like a misfit.

 I'm very confused right now.