I'll Have A Grande Motivation

I wish we could order emotions like Starbucks beverages. It would make certain things far easier. It would also make dealing with our emotions much easier. A lot of the time I have no idea what the hell is making me act the way I do, when ninety percent of the time I just want to be in bed with Caleb. Caleb is my Teddy Bear, for those of you who have forgotten, don't get the wrong impression. Some things are obvious, such as going to work. I go to work to make money. It's that simple. I need money to survive and provide myself with shelter and food. Otherwise, I don't think I would want to be nocturnal. Especially when the city rolls up the sidewalks at two thirty AM. There wouldn't even be anything to do from then till about eight or nine am. Even then the only thing that would be open is the gym, or the grocers. Oh, did I mention I forgot I was training to be a PT? Yeh, that is the full extent of my sleeplessness and disorientation. When I am not working, I have two main concerns: how long can I sleep for and do I have clean clothes to put on when I awake. That is all that I can muster to focus on. So during the weekdays I have very little capacity for minor details or simple errands, like remembering that I am in training. So, unfortunately, I have yet again forgotten to obtain the textbook. I am slightly concerned, but not really. So far all we have done in class is workout, take fitness tests, talk with fellow classmates and get lectured to. During the lecture the instructor tells us word for word what will be on the quizzes, he pretty much just reads from the pages, so it would be convenient to be able to have a book open to follow along, but I don't see it has necessary. Watch, with my luck tomorrow we'll be wanting us to read from the book out loud or some shit like that. It's just a weird concept to me all together really. This training, and class situation. The instructor is just that, an instructor who instructs. There hasn't been any teaching yet. It's all things I could have discovered had I google searched the phrase "personal trainer". I think I'm paying for the school's title and academic recognition. Plus I think the class comes with a free gym membership, for the gym we train at, but I'm not certain. Not that I would have time nor energy to make good use of it. I barely muster up the motivation to work out at my house. I use to do it to relieve stress, but now I don't have time for it really. I am much more stressed then previously, but I lack free time. Well I guess that's not true, I could make the time, but I'd rather sleep so I don't crash Danny into the highway median. Danny is the name of my car, for Sir Daniel Craig. I like to name things. Anyways. I motivate myself to work out because I fear my eating habits will destroy me, I don't have set times of the day when I can eat. I don't eat whole meals at once. And I certainly don't eat properly. And there is that slight problem with the ridiculous amounts of coffee I consume. So lately I have been working out to simply make my blood pump, encourage my body to urinate, and build stronger muscles. Bl odd pumping makes me sleep more soundly. Urinating gets the coffee out. And muscles help me for the day I breakdown and begin throwing cars into sky scrappers...I mean muscles help me lift things at work. Yes...for work. Don't make me Hulk out on you! I can't believe I forgot I was in training. That's so messed up. From Tuesday to yesterday I just didn't think about it at all. Which is bad, I know. But this week at work was also bad. In fact it was worse. It was worse then the forgetting. Oh, and, the government is an asshole. The more money I make the more they sneak out of my paycheck. The whole time I was factoring out the next couple months and budgeting my life away, I was not planning on having so much money ripped from my hands. What the hell is that for again?! I know it's my fault for not paying attention in school(I was more focused on living through another day), but having money removed from my paycheck makes me angry. And then we get tax refunds....so we get it all/mostly back? Does this seem strange to anyone? And since I know you're asking, no, I have not done taxes yet. But I will, soon. I don't want to mess with the IRS. Or anything like that. So there, avoiding jail time, the motivation for doing taxes. So I have motivation for work and taxes. If you add "death" onto that list, it'll make the three things that are guaranteed to all of us. Really, a person could maintain a third shift lifestyle and simply go through life motivated to merely work and pay taxes, I think death motivates us to do everything else we do. In a backwards kind of way. Since we all know death is going to happen, we motivate ourselves to make our lives as good as we are able to. This is where the variations come into effect. Some want fame and medals, some want artistic recognition, some want families and 401Ks. Some want to dance on you at the club for an hour and then not follow through. Which makes you a bastard!....I don't want to talk about it. Let's just say Friday night used only one barrel of a double barrelled shot gun. Bastard. Anyways. So since death is heading towards like Brooke Sheilds to a spokesperson career fair, we self motivate to make life worth living. But really Brooke, how many commercials do you want airing at once? Crest, Latisse, some other womanly shit. What are you, trying to break a record? Get a movie hon. Follow Demi Moore, pick up what she drops from her flawless dinner table. Demi is so lovely, and a badass. And probably a great lay. How else is she going to keep Mr. Kutcher under lock and latch? Do you like that? I just sorta invented it, "lock and latch", it works. Spread it around. Spread it like peanut butter. Peanut butter! A great motivator for dogs to do what we tell them to do. Don't make it dirty. I'm talking about calming down and stopping to incessantly bark out the window at a dog that is six houses down on the left which coudln't even be seen unless standing in the front yard anyways so it makes you wonder how the hell the dog is seeing the other dog in the first place unless of course dogs have some sort of projecto vision that can be turned both left and right....Are you worried for my sanity? I am, you should be. I think Caleb helps keep me sane. My having a "Caleb" is what therapists call "emotional projection", which means I have feelings, concerns, emotions, etc that need to be let out and or discussed but I lack the appropriate person, outlet, facility, etc to release them. See! Who says therapy is pointless? The only reason I'm such a good listener and advice giver is because I was in therapy, I didn't go to get fixed, I went to learn and steal tricks. I am a Bristow. And that previous line rhymes, I smell a bumper sticker. Or a graphic t-shirt. But I don't really wear those. Except when at the gym, or I'm attempting to be outgoing at the club. Oh, the club. What motivates anyone to go to the club? Sex, stress release, cheap drinks, cheap thrills, ego boost. It's all kinda the same. In different ways. Madonna talks about it in a song. She gets it. See Brooke, another fifty something to look up to. Stop with the commercials. Please, or we will be forced to take action. It may just be the channels I'm watching. I tend to gravitate towards Lifetime and Hallmark, they play Golden Girl reruns. That show is like heroin to me, soothing and I love taking in all the soft, pastel colors. And it makes me laugh. Alright, this one has gone on far too long. No one probably even reached this point. If you did, I love you. And I will buy you a puppy. Or rather, adopt you a puppy. I don't promote purchasing from stores or breeders, all dogs should be rescued. And all cats love me, it's just a random fact. Kitties like me, and I don't even try. Maybe that's why they like me, I should try that approach on men. If you're still reading I resend my offer of buying you a puppy. Sorry. I'm a broke twentysomething. Motivate yourself to adopt your own damn puppy.

"So I went into a bar. Looking for sympathy. A little company. I tried to find a friend. It’s more easily said. It’s always been the same. This type of modern life. Is not for me" -M. Ciccone

Let It Rip

I have a strange feeling that this week is going to be one long free fall. And when I try to pull the rip cord, there will be no parachute. It might be problematic. I was sitting in Philosophy class today and I was so disgusted by the conversation that I ready to drop out of college completely. The whole idea of it is so perverse to me. And if you really focus on it, it seems unnatural. The things that I am supposed to be learning in college will not be my parachute. There is no way. In the long run I see myself caring for a family and writing when I have the time. I like caring for people, I'm good at it. It comes naturally. My mother was a great example of how caring for people can be the most rewarding thing there is. School and college is something "they" created to keep us in line. Well I feel like stepping out of line, politely. I'm not going to start anarchy or develop a new kind of cult. I just don't feel my life and my skills are best utilized through college. Maybe I should go to massage therapist school. It's a form of caring for people, and you don't have to sit in a classroom that often. That's one of the many things that get to me, sitting in those white washed classrooms. I think the color is designed to suck the future right out of you. I can't stand it. Life seems to be passing me by. I don't like that feeling at all. Sometimes, usually after a couple of glasses of White Zin, this phrase returns to me: Gone and forgotten, before I had a chance to remember it. I first thought of it while riding my bike back to my first house from campus. It was so true. Everything around me seems to gone before I even had a chance to remember it. Today was like one long de ja vu, but it was stronger then that. I had sat in those classrooms before, I had typed a paper four minutes before it was due before, I had contributed to class discussion without having read the material before. I'm on some kind of weird pseudo auto pilot. I don't think I should be at that point already. I'm a little too young for that. Or, at least, I think so. I should be enjoying what I'm learning, and not zoning out and day dreaming. I should be okay with the parachute I have strapped to by back. Because, honestly, the one I have right now doesn't look all that appealing to pull. That's a problem, no?

-Absolutely Fabulous Memories

Have you ever tried to remember a movie line or a song lyric or that perfect sarcastic comeback, only to find that your mind draws a blank, your tongue fails you and that you have nothing to say at all. Then four days later you’re standing in the kitchen making noodles and then your memory kicks in and you end up with a slight case of turrets. My housemates were caught off guard when I yelled “yippy ki yay muthafucka” at my spaghetti. For the record the noodles did decide to clump together and be sticky. I find that these little brain farts have been occurring more and more since summer has started. I don’t want to say that I am off my game or even more flighty then usual, but I can’t seem to remember to memorize my thoughts. All the little things keep slipping through the cracks while the big topics are crashing down creating even more of them. Topics like love, heartbreak, family and confidence have rifled my last week so badly it would look like Swiss cheese. The ironic thing is that none of them were directly related to me, it feels as though the minute I forget to remember my life, my life is filled with living. I had already decided to lay low for the summer and try to regroup and prepare myself for the coming fall semester. My plan was to work hard and rest hard; I wanted to know what the dog days of summer were really like. I had intended to have a minimalist kind of summer, and so far its been busier then an Edina Monsoon outfit.

Being in the midst of all the activity and rushing makes you simultaneously learn and remember who you are and what you are made of. Lately I have been placed in situations where I seem to be the parental figure, both nurturing and instructing. Listening to what the problem is and figuring out the instigators, the actions, the results and the possible remedies to the event at hand. And let it be known that if I was standing in for the role of parent, the role of troublesome children was also filled. I might even say overflowing, but a parent never would admit to such a thing. In the eye of the shit storm, I had a strange brain fart, or I guess it would be more of an anti-brain fart. I remembered that I realized what I was doing; I knew how to caudle and caution, how to warn and wane, and how to heed and holler. I was doing all the grown up things I can barely do in my own life, for the lives of those around me. By forgetting to think about what I should be doing, I somehow remembered exactly what I need to be doing.

I think that things can get so cluttered sometimes and we can tend to over think and over analyze that we think it into something else. When you focus on something for too long it can just get bigger and bigger until it is the only thing that fits in your brain. But once you remember to forget about it, and think on something else, everything seems to be put into perspective. Your major isn’t really anything more then a couple words on a slip of paper. Your job is just an activity that helps you pay the bills and afford pizza and banana republic. Your relational title is just a social formality. Your goals and aspirations can change as often as the box office leader, so there is no point in remembering to think about it all the time. Being a nurse or an accountant or a marine or an English major isn’t who you are, it’s just what you think about. Who you are is what makes how you think, the ways in which you handle your situations.

When you don’t want to think about who you are, when you forget about it entirely and focus on everybody else, that seems to be when you really remember what you are made of. So remember to forget some things every once in a while.