Tag Archives: starting over

Accountability in my pants

Hey, remember that time I was going to blog about making monthly changes in my life as a way to chronicle the lead up to the end of the world?

Shut up.

So things haven’t gone the way I initially had hoped, that is clear, but as I look back over the last 4 (!?!) months, they really haven’t been a total wash. To be honest, the only part that hasn’t worked out in this blogging experiment is, well, the blogging.

I have managed to maintain regular gym attendance; I have been eating healthier, and above all, I am a lot happier than I was when I set out on this quest. True, I’ve made some mistakes. Ok, I’ve made A LOT of mistakes, and I’m nowhere near as settled with the first three life switches as I had anticipated, but I am able to see where I exactly went careening into a ditch of failure, and much like Aaliyah, I have the desire to dust myself off and try again (wait, she’s….oh).

Here’s the thing, in order for this blog to even come close to accomplishing my drunken schemes, I obviously need to post more than once a month. I am going to need to actually chronicle the changes I have been making, and not just post a quarterly, “could we start again, please” check in.

Sigh. In order to do this, I am going to have to do something I didn’t want; something that is against my very nature.

I am going to have to keep…a schedule.

(Blood curdling scream)

As horrifying as it sounds to my, “all clocks should be taken out back and shot” sensibilities, the only way I am going to save this project from becoming just another pathetic, abandoned web-relic, is by creating a routine. I am going to have to stick to that routine, and as an added flame under my ass, I am going to have to disclose said routine. That way, all four of you bitches know what to expect, and you can call my lame ass out when you don’t get it.

So here it goes. I had originally set out to accomplish 12 life switches; one for each month left on earth before the dinosaurs come back and kill everyone except for Kirk Cameron and the founding family of the Westboro Baptist Church. In my mind (and on paper, even) I had all 12 of these worked out well before I hit “publish” on my first post. Obviously, we are 4 months in, so some modifications had to be made.

Moving forward, here is my plan. Much like the opinions of a certain presumptive presidential hopeful,

this plan is “etched” permanently in the paramagnetic particles of a baby boomer’s childhood toy.

Remaining Life Switches

April 19th until May 9th: Study and implement a more minimalist practice and lifestyle.

May 10th until May 31st:  21 Day detox. Why 21 days? Fuck you, that’s why.

Truth be told, I’ve done some pre-research (presearch?) on this, and after combing through several detox plans, the one I opted for seemed like it would least likely lead me to kill my entire family and everyone within a 30 mile radius. Take a moment to check it out. Who knows, you may want to take the journey with me!

I’ll also be taking the time to study vegan cooking and practice recipes to add to my repertoire.

June: Using what I learned in May about vegan cooking, put together an entire meal plan for the month. Additionally, build off of April’s minimalism by spending no money. Seek out free entertainment, drink at home with friends, catch up on reading and time with family.

July: Working off of June, continue to build and maintain my relationships with my chosen family. Celebrate my 6th year of marriage by having lots of sex (I’m sure y’all are going to LOVE reading about that!)

 August: Take the last month of summer to reconnect with my childhood through my daughter, commune with nature. Limit time indoors and online. Slow down.

 September: While my husband and daughter head back to school, my education will come from reading at least one book a week.

 October: As if turning 33 wasn’t scary enough, I am going to use this month to constantly push my limits, step out of my comfort zone, and maybe even perform again.

 November: To prepare for the holidays, another detox is in order. This one however will involve working on my mental toxins as well as my physical body.

 December: Most people turn to religion at the end of their life, so with 21 days remaining until the zombie apocalypse, I am going to use this time to explore and experience various religions.

Ta-da. 8 ½ months of self-discovery and change all laid out for you to scrutinize.

Now, for the posting schedule, that is going to change SLIGHTLY each month. What won’t change is the amount of posts or which days. The topics however, will obviously change depending on the month’s switch. Regardless of the topic, you can expect a post from me on Monday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday.

For example, for the remaining 3 hours in April, I will adhere to the following schedule*:

 Monday: A recap of the weekend and where my adventures in minimalism took me.

Wednesday: What I am learning; thoughts and feelings about minimalist literature, blogs, etc.

Thursday: Mid-week minimalism; some minimalist action I took that day.

Friday: Free for all; check in on other switches I have turned on, random posts about life, or photos of drag queens.

There you have it, a solid framework sure to catapult this blog into an almost mediocre success. All of the pieces are laid out for me, now I just have to actually follow through.

Piece of cake.

No really, shut up.

*Obviously this will begin full-force next week, since it’s already, you know…Thursday.

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Mea Culpa Runneth Over

Deep audible sigh.

A week. A fuuuuuuggggin week. 7 days. 168 hours. 10,080 minutes.

That’s how long it’s been since I’ve been to the gym.

That’s how long it’s been since I’ve attempted to write anything substantial.

That’s how long it’s been since I felt in the groove of my own life (whatever the fuck that means.)

Don’t get me wrong. I have completely legitimate reasons for why I not only lost my path; I went careening into a ditch. For one, I have been fighting a major infection. My husband, my gym partner in crime, was also fairly ill last week. Tuesday was a busy day, complete with a final trip to criminal court for a civil disobedience arrest that occurred during the NY marriage equality push, an incredibly intense interview for a new field placement, and a rally in front of Governor Cuomo’s office for homeless youth funding that lead up to, yep, another civil disobedience arrest.

I have had some serious anxiety and mild depression over wanting to move, and the lack of affordable apartments in my area. This culminated in pretty much a major, albeit brief, nervous breakdown on Thursday, where I blamed

every.

single.

mistake.

I have made over the last 10+ years for the shit show that my life is now. J’s illness + my melodrama = big ol’ fight in the Casa de Us. We’re both Italian and stubborn as fuck, so needless to say, that pretty much ate a good portion of the weekend.

Saturday, I had to go put on a happy face at an event for my daughter’s school.

I am the President-elect of the PTSO (pause for raucous laughter) and had to serve as a judge’s assistant for a chili cook off (pause for even more laughter.)

Fortunately, sneaking in a 6 pack of Hoegaarden makes EVERYTHING better.

Oh, and I watched about 9 hours of Shameless. (Which EVERYONE should watch, and commit certain scenes to memory.)

So, in 7 days my routine jumped the tracks, slammed into the side of a mountain, and caught fire. By now I should be into my 3rd week of this new routine. I should have posted a recap about Week One’s progress (not to mention, Week Two.) Instead, I am sitting here pissed off at the lost time, angry at the fact that I have to basically start from scratch, and scared that I will get derailed again because classes start up next week, and my schedule will get pretty serious.

These are all feelings that I didn’t want to feel. When I set out to accomplish 12 life switches in 12 months, the last thing I wanted was for it to make my life more difficult. These changes are supposed to ENHANCE my life, not cause more problems. I stewed in these feelings for a while.

Then I watched another episode of Shameless.

As I sat watching William H. Macy drink himself into a stupor for the eleventy-billionth time, I had an epiphany that had absolutely NOTHING to do with watching William H. Macy drink himself into a stupor for the eleventy-billionth time.

And you thought I was going to make a connection to the show…

Seriously though, I realized that, to quote Shakespeare, “Shit doth happen.”

Illnesses will happen.

Arguments will happen.

Sudden mental breakdowns and feelings of utter inadequacy will happen (although Christ, I hope not that often).

Chili cook offs will happen (see above).

Life.Will.Happen.

We can make the choice of going all shrunken violet emo crazy chick who throws her hands up in the air (and waves ’em like she just don’t…wait, what) and gives up, or we can acknowledge that much of this crazy little thing called life is out of our control.

The best we can do is move forward.

I am sitting here with the sinus infection of the ages. I did not make it to the gym today.

I already know that I won’t make it to the gym tomorrow morning either. I have to be up at O’Dark:30to get on a train and head to Trenton where I will be rallying for Marriage Equality and NOT getting arrested (I promise.)

There is still a part of me that feels like I am failing this whole project. I could honor that dark voice and let it take over my thinking. Or I could tell it to sit the fuck down, and shut the fuck up. I’ll go to the gym when I get home in the evening.

And if I don’t, that’s OK too. Wednesday morning is another day.

We’re all doing the best that we can on this rotating sphere of water, rock, and gas. We face obstacles. We make mistakes. The last thing we should be is our harshest critic. We can do our best, but understand that sometimes our best just won’t be good enough, and we will always have the option of trying again tomorrow.

Having a pity party for what should have been is about as useful as tits on a nun. So the next time you feel like going all William H. Macy and drinking yourself into a stupor of shame, get the fuck over it.

The sun will come out tomorrow, Annie, and with that flaming ball of gas, a chance for you to try, try again.

What are you going to do with your new day?