Operation: Muscle Mass

One year ago I moved South. In those 12 weeks there is no doubt I have changed. Changed in the sense of perspective and values. And while the rest of the year was spent in economic hell, I took advantage of the time off and began to change my physical person.

I'll come right out and say it: I am a fitness freak.

I was always fond of running, and have intermittently weight lifted since I was 12 years old. Now I have myself in a satisfying fitness routine that keeps me in shape and toned.

I wouldn't sign myself up for a 10k marathon, or enter a fitness competition just yet, but I'm already noticing the differences in my muscular make up and increased tolerance in how much and how often I work out.

If I really want to increase muscle mass [and necessary weight gain], I'll need to compensate with my eating habits, meaning I'm looking at food like a nutritional label. A big juicy steak is one tasty slab of Potassium. Chocolate milk = Calcium with extra Calories.

I find this both annoying and disturbing because I don't want to end up obsessive. The results, however, are already paying off.

My stomach used to have an awkward bulge like a character straight out of Dr. Seuss.
...or at least one inspired.

But look! I have abs!!!

"This ain't your mama's house!"

I've been sorta AWOL lately, but exciting things are happening. I finally got a job! Hired on the spot, full-time, and nearly 2 hours from here... which is one hell of a commute.

I may have found a cheap place to stay until I can find more permanent housing too. I am so ready to move outta here.

Right now I'm exhausted, waking up at 5:30 am and putting in a 12 hour day doesn't give me any extra time to do anything else. But I am already loving my job. Everyone is completely laid back and awesome, there's no pressure, no stress, and of course...

Sportscenter.

"Oh sweet Pepper of mine."

Happy July everyone! I've been preparing for the excitement of Independence Day and indulging in all things patriotic. I already have a case of sparklers and have been listening to John Phillip Sousa marches all week.

And I found a sweet dress at Goodwill for only five bucks that I'm totally going to wear to a party this Saturday.

This dress is perfect for my latest costume idea too. All I need yet are the bright yellow pumps.

And speaking of indulgence, after depriving myself for the last ten years of the deliciousness that is Dr. Pepper, I found a 4-pack for a dollar. I pretty much gave up all soda after drinking an entire 2-liter bottle of Red Fusion in 10th grade. But I couldn't resist it this time. I mean, it was a dollar!

Apparently Axl Rose couldn't resist either.

"Your life is what you make of it."

I may have crossed a line with my inquisitive nature. I may have just found something very discouraging that leaves me in a greater state of uncertainty and thus may never sleep again. Or I may have a renewed motivation to take action with an intense aura of compassion.

My conscience, my inspiration, my life... I'm hanging on my last shred of hope.


I started making a list (again) of all my options, possibilities, and desires to determine my next step if yet another job falls through the cracks. With my truck returning to the garage, my bank account on its last month, and the plethora of bad news that burdens me like the weighted chains of Jacob Marley, even a good idea is hindered.

Honestly, I don't know what to do. I have to start somewhere though, and take that first step; that tiny meaningless step could make all the difference.

Life is without meaning. You bring meaning to it.

Carpe f*cking diem, baby!

It seemed like a good idea at the time. But as soon as I was given the green light, I got outta there. House/dog sitting was fine, just boring. The dogs slept all day, which made my job a lot easier.
Cubby - always in a whole other world.


Kasey - who follows you everywhere, and will rub her head against your legs like a cat.

I spent the majority of my week reading, switching locations periodically to liven things up a bit. I was excited that the family had a piano, thinking that I could still play like I used to. I banged out a few chords then attempted Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata (I taught myself how to play it before by listening to it without any music).

The charcoal pencils didn't work out too well either. I only finished one drawing of rotting wooden slats on the deck. I felt more inspired to write. In my Advanced Writing class we often did an exercise where the professor told us to start writing and not to stop until she said so. Just keep writing. It's kind of a "self-discovery" thing and is supposed to help with one's writing.

So what did I discover in rapidly jotting down every thought in a haphazard manner? Nothing I didn't already know. But it did give me reassurance - a motivational boost to jump in and take a chance. A chance on what you ask? Well, if there still is one, you better believe I'll be risking it.

Carpe fucking diem, baby!

Now that I'm back at the parent's house, I can finish a project I started before I left. I'm combining collage with ink again, recreating a beautiful dream I had and could never forget; a dream you hope to God it comes true.

Meet Virginia

View from the hotel

Applied to job Monday, received e-mail response Tuesday, interview Friday - and that's how it's done.

Before I left Thursday night, my dad discovered my truck's gas tank hanging by a rusty thread and leaking. I also realized I'm about a month and a half shy of being broke.

So with that in mind, I grabbed my business suit and drove a borrowed vehicle to Alexandria, Virginia.

The position encompasses writing, research, and the military with an international company that I would LOVE to work for. I'm excited. Seriously.

Although I won't hear back right away, I have been asked to house/dog sit for a family about 3 miles away, so I'll be living in someone else's house for the week. And I'm taking my charcoal pencils with me.

"Why ask useless questions? How deep is the ocean? How high is the sky? Who is John Galt?"

After spending a week baking in the sun on the beaches of North Carolina, summer has begun. And so has my "Summer Reading Challenge".

Every summer I try to read as many books as possible, trying to beat my previous record of 15.5 books in 3 months. It all began when academia took over my life and I was only reading books for class, and never for fun.

However, I've been out of school for over a year already, allowing ample time to read all the books I want, averaging a book a week. So the initial point of this challenge no longer exists. Unfortunately I didn't keep tabs on what I've been reading, so you could probably take any 3 consecutive months and find I've already far exceeded my standing record.

I've been thinking of doing this challenge anyway, making my first official book of summer Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged. Being over 1,000 pages, it is nearly 4 times the amount of my average summer reading books, which then leads me to more questions... Do I have to count this as one book? or can I divide it into 3 to make it more accurate to the basis for this challenge?
My god, am I really trying to find loopholes in my own damn challenge? That's sad. Perhaps I should have started a less controversial book, but I was suddenly anxious to read this one because it is set in a state of crisis, similar to our current economical situation; a dystopian world which adheres to a majority of my favorite books... besides there's talk of a movie.