Commitment Issues

I follow a blogger on tumblr who posts her handstands everyday. She has a series of 365 days of handstands. The first thing I thought when I found her blog and photo series, was wow that’s quite the commitment, and then I thought wow she can actually do a handstand and look graceful doing it AND hold it long enough to take a photograph. I recently started a 30 day yoga challenge. For 30 days, I’ll receive emails with 20 minute yoga videos attached, which is just dandy. Today I did my video then explored the online yoga world for another hour or so, trying out various poses, wishing I could actually do them. I realized something after I filmed my wheel pose just to see where I was at: I’m pretty weak and inflexible. It got me thinking. How could I improve not only my ability but also my dedication? I could try to practice a pose everyday for a certain number of days. It didn’t have to be 365, it could be 100 or 75 or even 50.

For 50 days I will practice a pose or two, let’s see if I can actually make my goal. I think I’ll practice wheel, (since wow that was embarrassing to see how bad I was) crow and/or standing fold. And on the 51st day hopefully I’ll be able to say that I’ve improved and grown.

Gosh I hope I stick with it!



It’s Been Quite The Week

Hey there! It’s friday finally, the first day of my spring break. This break is very very very very much needed, especially following this week. Not only was it a stressful, frustrating, and suffocating experience, but it was a learning one as well! Don’t worry I’m not going to bore you with a rant about school. I’m not quite sure where to start… I’ll just list some things and then describe them later.

DISCLAIMER if reading about anxiety or body image is triggering for you please leave this page and go do something happy! Coloring books and crayons can help (as childish as it seems) or dancing to fun music or going for a walk in the sunshine, just smile my friend and I hope you are alright.

This week:

– I had a two day crush. TWO DAYS. That has to be some kind of record.

– I wrote one of my most pretentious pieces of writing.

– I found out I admire a commonly hated teacher.

– I (possibly) had an anxiety attack at practice but had to stay for another 20 minutes because I was so freaked out I couldn’t tell anyone what was happening to me.

–  I actually added weight to my squat!

– My face is breaking out for no reason.

– One of the worst body image weeks of my life

Other than that it was a pretty normal week, and by normal I mean as awful as usual. (I’m not a pessimist, I’m just a junior in high school who can’t cope well with anything.)

Let’s start with the track related items. This week’s practice was an utter waste of time. My coach isn’t usual unreliable but this week he didn’t show up on time once. He had us waiting until 4:30 or 5 to even get started. Monday and Tuesday I left at 4:30. Wednesday he came, and we practiced throws and it was good, until I found myself obsessively staring at the clock and unable to catch my breath, soon I felt like I couldn’t breathe at all. I told my coach I was feeling dizzy, but in reality I feel like I was suffocating and the noise around me was wavering, suddenly loud or suddenly quiet. I had to stay and roll back the shot-put for one of the new throwers. I felt like I was going to die or throw up or collapse. I started crying but since I was at least 30 feet away from most people no one noticed, which I was thankful for. I’m not sure if it was an anxiety attack. I’ve had panic attacks many times, even once at school which was fucking terrifying. But I’ve never felt like this before, but it had a lot of the symptoms I get when I get overwhelmed or anxious, for example, not being able to breathe. So after that I skipped out on lifting because I could barely stand. Skipping made me feel even worse. It was hell but at least this time I wasn’t in the middle of a crowded hallway surrounded by my friends and peers and I wasn’t uncontrollably sobbing and gaspingly loudly for breath. (this time it was quieter gasps.) But I’m incredibly proud of myself for going back to practice the day after. And even more taking initiative and working while my coach was no where to be found. I did ten rounds of stairs and around 20 minutes of abs, then squatted with weight and benched. It was a pretty successful practice and *cliche warning* it taught me that no matter how bad your day has been, the next can be better.

Another event of the week was my school’s version of J-term. I had two classes that participated this year so I had two new classes. My first hour was Flash Fiction. This class was so fun and helpful with my writing, but for an assignment we had to turn in a piece of writing based on a photograph. One of the requirements was to have a “once” moment in it. We had to have a paragraph on the past in the middle, to add depth and entice the reader. When I was writing I blanked on what I could possible use as a memory for this story, so I wrote some crap about weaving oneself into the day, and personifying “days,” I said I wanted my days to dance with events. Then after a few overly dramatic sentences I wrote about a crappy car ride memory. It felt quite forced and ridiculous. My other class was taught by a teacher who I’d heard so much about, unfortunately not good things. She was pretty intense but she was also so insanely passionate about her ideas. She had this brilliant idea that we could send help to Albinos in Tanzania. It was an amazing cause but it got shut down. I felt so bad about it. She was discouraged but she didn’t give up! She was going to keep helping on her own and was going to send our cards and the few items we had donated to a camp in Tanzania. She’s an incredible person, and I’m glad I got to form my own opinion about her instead of hopping on the bandwagon and hating her for no reason. You should always think for yourself, and not just agree with everyone else. Sometimes they can be dead wrong.

This is a really long post oh my. I’m sorry you probably don’t care as much about my week as I do, but whatever there’s only about ten of you guys. (Thanks for following me btw!)

Next I’ll talk about one of the shortest crushes of my life. Actually, that may not be true. I’m not one to “like” people and when I do it’s usually for a very brief amount time. I did used to sort of like this guy, so maybe it was dormant? But I hadn’t talked to him in a while and we started talking again this week so my brain said “hey hey hey you’re talking to a boy hey hey think about that boy all the time now.” and I was like “shut up brain gosh you’re so lame you’re embarrassing me.” So after 48 hours of my brain saying “wow he’s so cute and nice” it started saying “yeah you have enough things to think about. Do you really want to spend energy thinking about a boy who gives you a millisecond of his day???” I kind of hate how I do that. It would be fun to like someone and not be lazy and actually do something about it. It would also be fun to like someone and not start talking myself out of it the second I realize I like someone. (I said “like someone” too many times in those sentences…) Maybe in college I’ll put forth effort to advance my love life.

I’ll guess the last point will be the most depressing one. My body image was so awful this week. Thoughts about how fat I am started to consume me and it wasn’t even when I was alone. I’d be in the middle of class and would start obsessing over how fat I looked and fidget like crazy, trying to find a position that didn’t make me look like a sack of lard. It got so bad that even when I was having a conversation I could only think about what they could possibly see. If someone looked somewhere other than my eyes I felt as if I was exploding, my stomach expanding, my arms swelling, my face bloating and the number of chins growing. It was horrible and it got really hard to just sit in class, trying to think about something other than my body. It gets hard sometimes but I know I’ll be okay eventually.

So this week was definitely a roller coaster. I’m glad it’s over. I grew this week. I learned that I could take initiative. I learned that I could push myself and accomplish what I wanted. I learned that I don’t have to listen to what everybody says and I can form my own opinions. But I think the best thing is that I learned is I can have a horrible, terrible, dreadful day but the next day always has the potential to be a good, hopeful, wonderful day. That reminds me of something Winston Churchill once said,

If you’re going through hell, keep going.

Don’t give up guys! Even if it’s the worst day of your life. If it is truly the worse day ever, tomorrow is guaranteed to be better. That’s just how superlatives work.

PS: I think I’m going to try and start a “quote-of-the-day-or-week-or-random-days-per-month” post series. It will get me to post more often plus I LOVE QUOTES SO FRICKING MUCH.

And Now Another Installment of Pointless Tales

I’m writing this as I avoid joining in on my parents’ conversation about scheduling college visits over break. I have this tendency to get super scream-y and emotional anytime I try and fill out the visit application. “Oh my god she’s going to cry.” is a common phrase uttered by my sister.

Sometimes I like to think about all the possibilities that college has to offer, and then I think about all the talents I don’t have to offer and I get kind of sad. I try and take a step forward towards adulthood and I end up taking two steps back. For example, there’s been a tab open on my laptop for two hours as I debate whether or not to go to an engineering and physics camp at St. Olaf College this summer. I know it would be good for me, but I’m too terrified to even finish the application.

New experiences have never been my forte. At my school we have this week off of english classes (I feel like I’ve written about this before???) and we take new, “fun” and “interesting” classes. I actually like one of mine this year. *GASP* Kita enjoys a new situation?!?! It’s a class called “Flash Fiction” and surprise, surprise as I was signing up for it my stomach was doing summersaults because I knew that I was going to have to put myself out there, take a class by myself, learn something new, and actually write something decent. When I initially entered the classroom, I turned around and walked out. There was barely more than six people and they were all freshmen. I lurked in the hallway looking for anybody I recognized to enter the room and finally gave up and walked back in. Two of my classmates from my english class walked in after me.

The second the teacher started talking I knew I would love the class. She seemed so excited about words. Not just stories, but words. I also love words and language super duper much. *rolls eyes at my word choice to express my love of word choice* She asked our class if any of us wrote fiction or poetry. Almost everyone raised their hands. I felt my shoulders tense and my eyes twitch.

I guess you can say I’ve never been good at sharing, I wasn’t one of those kids who screamed MINE every time someone else touched something they were interested in, but I did stew about it and vow silence vengeance. When I comes to writing I’m no different. To quote the over-quoted and over-romanticized Sylvia Plath, “I am jealous of those who think more deeply, who write better, who draw better, who ski better, who look better, who live better, who love better than I.” And I am very jealous and very selfish when it comes to writing. I know there’s billions of people better at writing, I just refuse to acknowledge that fact. Don’t look at me like that! We’ve already established that I am a horrible person. Now, back to the previously scheduled unnecessary story.

After she established that anyone who could hold a pencil has an abundant and unique universe inside of them that they’re dying to share, she told us what this class had in store. We were going to “play with words” and I had to put forth a great amount of effort to not manically grin. WORDS ARE SO MUCH FUN. The rest of the period consisted of us generating words, writing down whatever. Then we took a lap around the school and wrote down any word that came to mind. The strangest one on my list was probably bagpipes.

The cool thing about flash fiction is that it’s short and powerful. Like a flash of a camera or a bolt of lightening that lingers in your sight, flash fiction does the same to your mind. It can tell an elaborate story in very few words. I encourage you to explore the world of flash fiction and play around with words. I promise it’s fun!

Story Peeves

Typical young adult authors have filled my head with such bullshit. Sometimes I marvel at it.

So instead of making any progress on the avalanche of schoolwork that’s crashing into me, I think I’ll make a list. Of course this list will be naive and hold no intellectual value – in fact you’ll probably find it ignorant – but hey! Why else do you follow my blog? (literally I look at this blog as you might look at a diary from the fourth grade) causally attempts to lower your standards for what’s to come because I’m insecure about my opinions and my writing ability.

Things they have subliminally etched in my brain:

Some lanky boy with messy hair, who’s either A. popular beyond belief or B. just as misunderstood as me, will enter into my life and save and complete me. This unnecessary plot device drives me incredibly insane. I personally don’t believe that people are incomplete. Imagine it: I fell in love now HOLY SHIT I JUST GREW AN EXTRA LIMB. WHAT SOMEONE WANTS TO DATE ME??? MY HEART JUST NOW MY HEART HAS ANOTHER CHAMBER. WHOA I HAVE A THIRD EYE NOW THAT I’VE BEEN ASKED TO HOMECOMING.

You need to be crazy/suffering/special/lonely/unattainable to be interesting to a boy. If you’ve ever heard of something called the Manic Pixie Dream Girl, you may have stumbled upon one of my biggest -and I mean mountain sized- literary peeves. (Also can be found in every other type of storytelling) If I hear/read “you’re not like other girls” one more time I might stab myself with the quirky personality of your female love interest.

Apparently you have to be magical to get laid. What the hell is up with teenage girls and supernatural powers? It’s even more irksome when they themselves don’t even hold the powers and the boy of interest has them. It’s as if the author feels that a plain human girl isn’t enough to satisfy the audience of plain human people so they add superpowers or make them undead in order to make up for the author not being able to add depth to a character. (that was a little harsh sorry!) 

Depression and other mental disorders are romanticized. Judging by personal experience, whenever I’m having a panic attack or feeling like I’m less worthless than dirt – because at least dirt can grow flowers – I’m not thinking “Oh I wonder what type of boy can get me out of this fix?” Although due to the abundance of this theme of “Once I find love my mental health is completely restored!” I have thought about it at times. And I do feel ashamed of wondering if a boy or girl will find me more interesting because of my problems.

I will add to this later but for now I think I’ve made enough cynical generalizations for one evening.

Favorite Quotes

I spend the majority of my free time, which I barely have any of, on tumblr. While I’m mindless scrolling down my dash I’ll come across a quote that I absolutely fall in love with it. I’ve always loved quotes, probably because I’ve always loved words. And I love the perfectly crafted combinations of words that are so bold that they stand out to thousands of people through several generations. Quotes prove how powerful words can be, whether written or spoken they demonstrate the artfulness of humanity. Many of the quotes I’ve stumbled upon on the internet evoke different feelings and thoughts and concepts. Some make me want to write a novel based on that one sentence. Some fit perfectly to a feeling. So I decided to start a list of all the quotes that have caught my eye, and maybe in the future write a reflection on the quote based on how the quote made me feel. Maybe I’ll post a few of them here!