Aiyani Mersai

My alarm was set for 5am today. I wanted to be on the road by 6am. So you can imagine my surprise when at 7am I awoke to the sound of the garbage truck up the parking lot from my bedroom window. I jumped out of bed and moved my car closer and began loading it up. After looking at everything I was going to bring I didn’t think it was all going to fit. Then I got angry thinking why did I need all of this crap to go with me?? Then I realized. . .that box is for my wife’s wedding (yes wifey=caitlin) that box is for her bachelorette party, that bag has my products in it so I can practice facials while I’m gone, that bag has Miranda!! (new MacBook) that bag has my school books so I can keep studying because upon my return I will have to take many tests, I need my massage table and my scrapbook supplies, that laundry basket with clothes IS necessary and what I’m actually bringing to survive is a small suitcase and a duffle bag of clothes. Even now as I look around the guest bedroom at my dadda’s house I think its not THAT bad. . . is it??? Then I remember it IS for 2 months and i DID / DO need everything here, and I did leave a lot at home.

Ladies in gentlemen I’m in AG until August 5th, let the games begin.

The last time I saw Kaza was November 2006 at a surprise birthday party for a mutual friend. After a few margaritas I decided to actually go up and talk to her. We had ignored each other for the entire evening. Her husband David had given me a hug and said he missed my smile and asked how I was – I’m fine. I talked to Kaza outside that night for a good 45 minutes “hashing it out.” We didn’t yell at each, we discussed some stuff – but not too much. At this point i was still confused and angry and didn’t really know what had happened but knew that I was kicked out of the wedding, which I took to the next level by going through life as though she had kicked me out of her life completely. That night she told me she still wished I would have at least GONE to her wedding and that was the most confusing feeling I believe I’d ever felt. Are you kidding me? I didn’t even understand why I was fired, and now I’m being told well yah you were fired but you could’ve come to the party still. it was wierd. I was unsure of everything – still. We left it on a hug and we wanted to talk more. But after a few days I decided it wouldn’t have been good for me. I told her something like I didn’t want to walk on egg shells being sure I gave her the alloted time and energy she was required. I just wasn’t ready to tackle the idea of trying to figure anything out. I felt cut out, and that was it. I didn’t want to be around the trigger to my anger, frustration and confusion and at that point that was what she had become. A trigger. I wanted to just let things be as they were. I was with Cleveland, she was with David and we all had our separate lives. Besides I was now in my second year at school and knew that what ever ‘time and energy’ I believed she wanted or needed I would be unable to give her because of my grueling schedule. It sucked up my life and it was okay with some people, and not okay with others. A risk I didn’t want to take or deal with again.

Fast Forward

So there I was having spaghetti at my dadda’s house last weekend (5.25.08) I had successfully drunk dialed Kaza the weekend before and agreed to call her sober if I still wanted to talk to her, which I did – so I called, sunday afternoon. She had text me she was at lunch, then a show then she was at dinner with her friend Donna. Somehow in the conversation via text she found out I was home in AG (I wasn’t trying to keep it from her, I just didn’t assume meeting was an option) and she said I was welcome to go have drinks with her and her friend, to which I declined. I was spending time with family. She knew I wanted to talk to her though, so she continued to ask if I was going to be around tomorrow (monday 5.26.08) and if I wanted to meet and have coffee. This I was not prepared for. I immediately felt uncomfortable and said I’d have to think about it. I wasn’t necessarily afraid, I was just – uncomfortable. It wasn’t familiar territory anymore and much had “gone down” the last few times we had ever spoken and I didn’t know if seeing each other face to face would help, or make it worse.

Upon waking on monday 5.26.08 I showered and packed as I would be leaving that day to drive back to Vista after breakfast. I got bagels and headed over to Jenn’s house (my sister-in-law) and my mommie and brother Rik met us there as well. The smurf was golfing with my dadda. I had talked about Kaza with Jenn a bit, she’s become such a good friend that I have found I really look to her for an objective opinion and we are so much alike in so many ways it often does come from a place of “if it was me. . . ” I appreciate it. Anyway, we discussed and I decided I’d meet Kaza for coffee. So I text her, and we would meet at the Steaming Bean in Shell Beach,CA at 11:45am. Almost 2 years after the last time I saw her.

There was no small talk, I got mocha with coconut in it, and she got her beverage and we sat at a booth. It wasn’t as hard to see her face to face as I thought it would be. Actually it was much more emotional than I thought it would be. This is was “Mahroomah!” for years, even after we weren’t living together. We used to tell the same story on how or where we met, we totally dressed the same sometimes and we shared a love for shoes and Coffee ice cream with Heath bars in it from Ben n Jerry’s. But I still didn’t know her anymore, and she didn’t know me anymore. She was very willing to listen, after all I was the one who called, I was the one who needed to figure things out. So she listened, and when I began with “this for me started when I didn’t make it to your bachelorette party in Vegas” (August 2006) I may have said two more words after that before she asked to interrupt and asked to rewind to when it started for her – which was apparently a YEAR before that.

Floored.

I listened to her side, her thoughts, her feelings. How she felt when I moved away from AG into Santa Maria, how she felt about me venting here instead of talking to her, how she felt ignored or detached from me that first year of school when I was in rehearsals or class from 9am – 11pm 6 days a week. I listened and listened and felt lost when I realized all of the build up for a year resulted in the weekend I didn’t make it to her bachelorette party. So this was happening to her for a year and as far as I knew, we were fine – we were fabulous and both of us very busy. So you can see why in my utter confusion getting fired from wedding seemed like a very harsh decision. She told me she didn’t want to do that, but she felt it was all she could do. That somehow *I* had become distant and unwilling to discuss anything, or give her any time or energy or excitement for her planning her wedding.

My side of the story was much shorter, and it was a shame it had come down to this. I believed we were fine. I believed she knew I was not going to be in Vegas, I had the weekend of her wedding pre-approved to be gone and it was closing in. Her party was in Vegas on a friday and saturday night. I text her sunday “happy day of recovery.” She had never text me back after that. Instead I received a call from her sister, Teri, telling me that I let her down, that I disappointed her and kaza down and that my actions were not something a bridesmaid did, much less a good friend. My immediate reaction to hearing that they didn’t know i was going to be there was exactly “oh shit!!” And as I continued to listen to Teri’s message it became – hey?….why is she telling me what a disappointment I am? why is she telling me my actions are not what a bridesmaid does, “much less a good friend” . I went into defensive mode. There would be no stopping it, I was furious that she spoke to me like that. I did everything I could to go and couldn’t – I just COULDN’T. But as far as I knew, they knew I wasn’t going. That is the kind of wall that I slammed against. I described it to kaza as a very thick, very cold, metal and spiky wall that left me angry and confused – and I would stay like that for months and months following.
After the weekend of Vegas happenings kaza and I played phone tag for a day, then I received a card in the mail. A card with butterflies on it and a purple border. The card that so eloquently worded had asked me to step down from her bridal party. A card that said I had shown her my true colors…..a card I used to have memorized, that I still have but I do not look at. And in response I sent her a card back telling her she was a coward for not talking to me, but literally writing me out of her life on a card and sending it to me. I immediately felt that sort of break in your heart where you don’t know what went wrong or when, but you know that it was only going to get worse, at least for a while. And all that is left are questions, memories and anger. There would be no peace of mind regarding her after that card, not for months and months.

And even now that I’ve discussed the card exchanges with her I still hate it. I hate that whatever series events happened had altered our being forever. But we can never go back. We can only move forward.

I can’t say that I agree with everything she said or did, but neither her for me – but it was good to put it out there. It was good to ask my questions, it was good to be heard. I told her I think I was just looking for a way to be able to look back without always being depressed or furious.

Yes, it was like a “real” relationship.
No, we are not going to go back to the way things were, we never will be able to do that – ever.
No, we have not agreed that now we will try to be friends.
We have agreed that we listened to each other. We have agreed that if there are more questions that the other will answer them if they are asked, we have agreed to continue to listen.
But we both tread carefully.
We want different things now, we are different people now.
We are neither here nor there,
but we agreed *we* are “okay.”

Dear _________,

I read it.
I read it over and over and over as the credits rolled from you suggestion.
I was ready.
I was ready to tackle the meaning, or the inspiration, or that place.
And then you were gone.
You left so quickly I could only think of a couple reasons.
You are tired, you were tired.
you didn’t want to discuss it then, last night – or any night before.

It was yours.
After reading it over and over and over, I didn’t recognize it – its not famous, or infamous.
After reading it over and over and over, I had felt it
I think.

And even as i sit here contemplating other moments of my past creep in, its melodic, it is music, it reminds me of you. Seanah would sing it, then I would learn it and sing it for you. A part of me hated you for that, that you so easily could take something like a song and make it about you, you didn’t do that – I did and I blamed you for it. The song is sung by a girl named Amy and even now listening I weep for what is “then.”

I continue to read
It has to be yours.
It is not published anywhere but here, in this old, sacred place. This place you abandoned, this place I’ve returned to.
It has to be yours.
I cannot find it, or its origin, and maybe I’m not supposed. If it isn’t yours, it should be.

I don’t want to wait to dissect it. Even the subject that is was “something” that “came across your mind” it isn’t memorized, it is yours, and even so – it is mine. It was mine.

this was after I had moved back
after I left.
after you didn’t want me to have a title, and after you gave someone else a title but still wanted me because I was a challenge. your words.

More so now, then when I was close you want to know. . .
did i write about you or talk about you tonight, or even lately to anyone. my friends. my family. you’ve been a name – but only one has seen your face, besides me.
are you still a subject matter, if anyone looked then or now would they find your name, your alias accompanied by a short or long story that somehow ended with hope or sorrow or joy. you wonder these things. you wondered these things – then.

Don’t write me out yet

I left.
I left the area, that place, that line of connection or communication but you weren’t ready for it. Maybe you thought I would just come to you.
And I did.
And I hated it
And I loved it

Maybe you finally decided you didn’t want me to go, a decision that was too late. A decision that pulled me out of reality into a dream sequence with you, a heart to heart, and then I was thrust back into life. Forced to continue without ever knowing. Not for years would I know. Not for years would I believe.

We’ll speak of things like plants and trees.
It is you.
And for a while it was only you, and after that while I wanted it to be you, and after that it should’ve been you, and after that it wasn’t supposed to be. After he came along it was quiet. but i’ve always looked for you – here. i’ve always waited to hear from you, and even now that you’re voice echoes I turn to you for your thoughts, your words, your guidance.

I hate that
I love that

I am jealous
it will pass.
just as it always had
and this time you moving on, helps
and hurts at the same time
i don’t know.

Its a power that you attained, it should never have been yours, but it always will be. My confessions are yours, and they shouldn’t be but I dare not go against this.

Don’t use it against me, please
Not ever.
Ever.
you did so many times before. did you know that you had that power? did you use it on purpose? please tell me, you would never hurt me intentionally

hiding.
you could be talking of me
you could be talking of you
and only for a while – maybe it was me and you only wanted me to be gone for a while
maybe I am reaching
maybe you were hiding from me
from anyone, and only for a bit because you would always reach for your book and call someone who would come to you, it would not always be me, it should have been.
But only then.

it was me
sitting next to you
in the dream
wasn’t it?
and you could never say it
you would never say it
you would never admit it, or live it, or love it for exactly what it was, when it was.

you would let it go
you let it go
you let me go

and things have become what they are.
and he is there
and she is there
and there is joy – somewhere, because all of this – ALL of this, has nothing to do with now.
its something that i found
its something that i didn’t know
its something i don’t know if I ever should have known

what do you have to say about where the dream is?

something maybe then you didn’t want me to know
something you never finished/refined
but if you say its for me, i’ll take it
and i’ll keep it
forever.

with love,
aiyani

This last weekend I went to Lightning in a Bottle in Santa Barbara. My friend Adam-from-the-band-i-brought-home was playing and was able to score me a guest pass. Although I did not go the entire weekend and camp I went all day saturday and had a BLAST. The fog, the mud, the slight rain, then the sun and the parade and the live music. It was quite an experience. I went alone, well I got there by about 10:30am and adam got there to play around 4:30pm and then we hung out til 10pm then drove to san francisco. Wwweeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!

But I went alone and it was so ….freeing to be alone, be a stranger – and be accepted at the same time. I somehow had escaped life as we know, well – life as *I* know it; A stream of boredom and wallowing in my own misery because of the town I live in, I no longer get along well with my classmates (some of them I do, but the ones that are in my class have all turned on me), Jeffrey is in Santa Rosa, and time apart is very good for us right now. I escaped time, or perhaps it stood still or I had been time warped to a place that was full of positive energy and love and charisma A place full of life, of expression, of desire, of pull.

Adam played his trombone with 2 other members of the Jazz Mafia (based in San Francisco) with J.Boogie (DJ) featuring Aima, a fantastic female vocalist. He had arrived in time to play first, then hang out so when I made my way to the front row (as you know i LOVE to be in the front row) and blew him a kiss he smiled. It was the first time I’d seen him in 3 years. We email from time to time, and text, and I totally drunk dial him (always have) but it was so great to see him. And equally great to see him play. Musicians are amazing, and I have found that I appreciate live music, but I hang on to everything more when you know someone who is playing. Somehow knowing I have a backstage pass makes me feel superior, and knowing that when they’re done playing, I get a hug and their attention, and that feels like a million bucks, if not more.

I remembered the first time I met adam. It was August, 2001. I was with Ro, downtown SLOville wandering about and we heard music coming from Mothers Tavern. I was wearing brown shoes, a pair of jeans and a tan colored turtleneck. All the other girls were dressed with tight, revealing clothes. Their hair was perfectly pressed, curled or pinned and their makeup was designed for a shoot with playboy, the kind of makeup that looks like 12 layers of gloss were carefully applied while staring into a mini compact just before entering, the kind wear the moment the drinks really start to kick in the eyeliner and mascara start to smear with sweat or tear of laughter, or even tears of sorrow. You know they have on 7 different eyeshadows, and several swipes of mascara – totally committed to their “going out” look. At any rate the band playing was rocking the entire bar and Ro and I could barely get pass the front door,so we set up shop near the end of the bar, by the door. I had been staring at the trombone player, he seemed to be the ring leader making hand motions to the other band members with instruction, it was interesting. He saw often enough that I was watching him and had smiled in my direction. Enough for me to think “was that at me?” Soon enough the band was taking a break and the trombone player found his way over to me and Ro and asked how we were doing, quickly followed by could he buy us a drink and some small talk. Name of the band was Cannonball, they were from San Francisco, and his name was Adam, my name was Aiyani and this was Robin. He had dark hair that hung just above his shoulder and had dark colored eyes, and a wide smile. He was mysterious, I liked it. He went to play another set, and Ro and I enjoyed our drinks and reveled in the fact that a band member totally just bought us drinks and talked to us. We stayed and watched and listened, and drank. They ended the night with a rendition of “When the Saints, Go Marching in. . ” and I remember Adam standing on a table, or chair or something and he kept instructing everyone to go up in key, so they kept changing keys getting higher and higher on the scale – it was quite a site, and impressive to the ears, needless to say. (So of course, every time I hear that song – I totally think of Adam) All of a sudden it was the end of the night and the band was breaking their equipment down. Adam found me and robin safely at the end of the bar and pulled up a stool to talk to us. He found out we liked to do theatre and he asked questions about dancing and acting and singing and where we like to perform, if we’d ever done theatre in San Francisco. All the while the Poly dollies, plastic playboy bunnies, breast popping, drunken, ladies had removed their heels but stumbled up to adam to get his autograph on the CD they just purchased and wanted to tell him how amazing he was, how adorable he was and if he had a girlfriend. One in particular had draped her arm around him and tried whispering something in his ear and he sort of took her arm off and squirmed his head back and gave them some space. All the while asking me about what I do, where i work, what music do i like, where I lived, in a barn! And from that moment they had to come see it!!! The whole band, who was going to drive home at 2:00am, had caravanned out to the barn where Kaza was fast asleep recovering from her wisdom teeth being pulled out. Somehow in my glasses and turtleneck I had won the attention, without really REALLY trying, of the band member whom I had found so intriguing the entire evening and now he was going to follow me home. How dreamy. We got home, had chips and salsa, talked about the Harrison Ford cardboard cutout and soon were ready for sleep. That night, the band member I had found so intriguing on stage with a horn pressed firmly to his mouth in the middle of downtown SLO, slept next to me with his arms curled up around me, and he has made me feel that special every time I’ve seen him since. Like I’m the only person that exists, and all his attention was on me.

Adam finished playing on the Bamboo Stage at Lightning in a Bottle and I found myself backing up to wait my turn to see him. I had walked to the back of the audience and waited and watched the people flock to him, as per usual. Then I made up to him and waited my turn, and when I didn’t want to wait anymore, when the last couple people were telling him how great he was I went and stood next to him, ish. Not too intrusive, but so that he knew I was there, waiting for him. Within moments he had reached out and wrapped his arm around me to pull me next to him. He wasn’t done talking with everyone, so I felt bad for interrupting and buried my face in his shoulder, then accepted my place and listened to the conversation. When it had finished he turned to me, kissed me on my cheek and gave me a hug, told me it was good to see me and that I looked amazing.

We hung out and watched other bands play, had tofu for dinner with rice and whatever and were on the road to san francisco by 10:30pm. I had volunteered to take him home when his ride decided to stay the night. Adam had to play the next day, so it was better to get him home, then try to leave early the next day and risk being late. Road Trip!!! His band mate Rich also came in the princessmobile, and believe it or not I drove half way, and when I took the passenger seat I stayed awake.

Sunday I woke up and though I was invited to stay and go to his gigs (that such a funny word to me, like its ok if he says it, but dumb when I do) with him, and I would have LOVED to go, I needed to get home, so monday I could get back to vista. back to my “existence” as it were.

—————————

Monday came and I had bagels with Jenn (my sister-in-law), Rik, and my mommie, and then – met kaza for coffee at the Steaming Bean in shell Beach.

more to come.

For years I have been slightly consumed with the idea that I could guess a person’s personality, or better understand the kind of person they are based on the ice cream they loved / their favorite. And for the most part I do really well with it. Taking a look at myself my favorite for my ENTIRE life has been:

Mint n Chip

Not to be terribly confused with Mint & chocolate chunks, or peppermint with chocolate chip swirl or any variation on the theme. I’m talking Thrifty’s Mint n Chip Ice cream (Thrifty’s has since been taken over by Rite Aid but you can still buy the Thrifty brand, if you find it). Cold stone has a very VERY sweet base for the their mint ice cream to which I can request chocolate chips be added and they accommodate and I enjoy it, but mind you those were whole chips, not chopped, sliced, or diced chips – and don’t get me STARTED on places that put carobs as a topping (mostly frozen yogurt places) I mean that’s up there with blasphemy if you’re going to offer me a carob and call it a chocolate chip, don’t cross that line!!!! Dryers and Bryers lean towards a white ice cream that is mint flavored with chocolate shavings, and never enough of them. Plus their ice cream tends to remind me of ice milk. its not nearly as cream, in fact its a bit thin and flaky in its substance. It is the “posh” version the “upper scale” version of the sugar induced old time favorite. Their are generic brands that your grocers freezer will sell, the “albertson’s mint n chip” isn’t bad, but melts fast – and some days thats nice. some days i like my ice cream partially melted, so I’ll let it sit there. There are ice cream store that sell their option Ghirardeli Ice Cream, Baskin Robins (many many chocolate chip shavings, this is good but it lacks the crunch of the chocolate chip, its been sliced so thinly – but again, they try to make up for it by adding more of them, points given, and validation approved), Bernardoz ice cream (for those of you who remember it in “the village” or “Old arroyo” it is now Doc Bernstein’s to my knowledge) had a great color and texture but lacked in the chocolate chip to ice cream ratio, but you could at least count on chunks of the chips. they were cut rectangularly but it worked. And even nowadays you can find a good frozen yogurt if you’re trying to cut back on the ice cream itself – but lets not go there. The ice cream used in ice cream cakes or sandwiches is also off limits because it too is subject to brand and you have to factor in the other parts that you are getting with your ice cream (ie the cake, or the sandwich sides). Then there are those that don’t bother with trying to come up with a good Mint : chip ratio and simply make something similar but call it something different. A good example of this is Ben n Jerry’s Mint Chocolate Chunk. A bad take on this Mint Chocolate Cookie (shakes head) I don’t want oreos with my mint ice cream, somehow its wrong (this could be part of my personality study…..bringing the original idea back into the fold) it screws with texture and flavor too much.

So taking into consideration the different types, textures, flavors, over all presentation (this includes color), and what one might be looking for in an ice cream, maybe you can see why someone “like me” would give a damn about my specifications when it comes to wanting a good Mint n Chip ice cream, and furthermore maybe you could even see why someone with a similar personality may chose a mint n chip ice cream for dessert, or a snack, or a whatever – whenever

Follow?

With that in mind, and if you are my friend or family I’m sure you get my personality I’d like you to think about this statement:

Ben n Jerry’s Creme Brule has changed my life forever.

Have a great night.

I should be asleep.

I am unable to sleep, because I have “stuff” going through my brain that keeps me awake.

Normal Stuff:
write another list for Target (ie AA and AAA batteries)
get up early enough to make coffee
do we have milk?
I want some bacon, REAL bacon

Work Stuff:
When will someone hire me?
why do they not hire me because of my qualifications? I am over qualified, but I don’t want a career there, I want a job there – hire me already.
Will I have to buy new clothes. . .will i GET to buy new clothes??

Weight Stuff:
as per usual, I disappoint myself
i’ve looked into some dance studios and though I’d hate to be in the “Adult (ages 12 and up) group” I may just have to suck it up and go for my own sanity and well-being
I miss pilates and how I felt when I did it
I’ve never been long and lean, but i’d like to be

Friend Stuff:
I might get to see Adam-from-the-band-I-brought-home in a couple weeks, if not I visit him later this summer
I miss my friends
I miss playing, and drinking and singing and playing and drinking and singing, then eating and playing. . .
I miss coffee time with kitten

Personal Stuff:
I need to play my piano more
I have forgotten how to play songs I’ve written, but I know how they go, I just don’t know how to play them – now I have to relearn/rewrite/reteach myself
I should make lunch, instead of buying lunch tomorrow

Relationship stuff:
Cleveland leaves for Santa Rosa on the May 23rd. He’ll be gone for 7 weeks. We’ve been having “issues” lately so this will be well needed time apart and upon his return we have to reevaluate our relationship and if we are going the same direction and after the same things and can BE THERE for each other and support each other and DISCUSS BIG DECISIONS with eachother. Sometimes I find he misses his “bachelor” days. Not missing “the ladies” or “the parties” he wasn’t like that, but before me he could do whatever he wanted whenever, and now he has to consider that his decisions will effect me. Prime example, he told me sunday (may 11) he’ll be going to new york wednesday (tomorrow) and will go to the sound design seminar he wanted to go to and return monday….the last I heard of this conversation/decision was in March and he wasn’t going because we didn’t have the funds to send him. He asked his parents for help, but didn’t bother talking to me about it. He just – planned his trip and will be leaving and coming back, then…leaving again. I often find I miss my “single” days. They can’t be “bachelorette” days – that’s gay. 😉 I miss flirting and dancing with boys exchanging numbers and going on all of 2 dates before finding the flaws they have REALLY don’t interest me and its okay to say “hey i’ll just see you around, cool?” and everything is fine and fun again. I feel that I”ve given up who I am for Cleveland – which is no good and that I left everyone I know behind to follow him to a place I would never chose to live for myself because there’s nothing here for me. Then I find that I resent him for it, blame him for it and dump on him because of it. I know there has to be people out there going “but, you guys just got married, give it sometime” well, time is the part I jumped over so maybe I’m back tracing. we’ll see we’ll see.

I’m stuck between what I always envisioned for myself in a husband/mate/partner and what I have in a husband/mate/partner

John Stuff:
yes I’ve seen that he hung out with Jennifer Aniston, no I don’t think it will go very far. Yes I like Jen, but I don’t think they are right for eachother. It is my belief that when John is done living out his highschool fantasies and proving to the world that he is a prime example of the “ugly duckling” story that he will settle down with a girl-next-door type (and no not the playboy bunny girls-next-door) who isn’t an actor or a singer. . .but maybe a dancer and someone who can challenge his intelligence, he’s actually very educated, well spoken and able to speak a foreign language fluently. Which unfortunately, rules me out – I know…….sad huh?. =) But again, its just a theory – he could meet me, fall head over heels in love with me and follow me around til the day I die.

ps. I totally get to see him this July at the Fair. and maybe in Irvine too. maybe

maybe now i’ll be able to sleep

I went to the gym today. First time in a few weeks. I get going, and then all of a sudden – I just stop. But today I went and they were doing Free Body Fat Testing. I have had this done before, a few different ways. Sometimes people are pulling at the unsightly chunk around my entire body, sometimes they give me an approximate by typing in other information, today I held what looked like a video game controller out infront of me and the guy his “start” and in less then 3 seconds there was a number flashing before my eyes.

Now. . .the LARGEST I’ve ever been is 221 pounds. I weighed this much upon my return from Burbank living with Antoan off of “groceries” from the 99 cent store and McDonalds milk, yogurt and granola for months. Even at my “largest” I rang in at 32% body fat. As I put my little algebra brain to work that comes out to roughly 70 pounds of body fat. And obviously when you actually begin working out you are not just losing fat, you are gaining muscle so my “ideal” weight was never really 151 pounds. My ultimate goal has always been around 165.

TODAY however I weighed myself before going to the gym and it was at 211. A mere 10 pounds less than my largest and 20 pounds heavier than when I graduated PCPA last may……LAST MAY. So here we are a year later. Almost the same weight as my largest and I ring in at (drumroll) 35% body fat. My mouth did not drop to the floor. i was expecting 30-32%, but even the extra 3% extra made me feel horrible all of a sudden and I began questioning everything from why I wear two sport bras to the kind of dressing i use on salads I only occasionally make.

I did have a great workout though, but it was still hard to see that number flashing before my eyes. This of course again would lead people to believe my ideal weight, standing at 5’9″ barefoot is 145 pounds. I have to keep in mind I am not designed to be a stick figure, and have never BEEN a stick figure. I have muscular legs – somewhere beneath my chunk and under the rolls and rolls on my bells I have abs that long to be used.

I am discouraged and motivated at the same time. I am discouraged because even at my non-largest I am at my FATTEST, which for my height and age by the way is OBESE (information I found via the world wide web). But I am somewhat motivated because I’d like to see how I can get it to change. I’ve made MANY posts about my weight over the years, and I’d like to think that each time I’ve learned something ELSE.

I know what good foods are, I have to chose them – been there, covered it.

I understand cardio, heartrate and how I should actually keep it lower and workout longer than jump into crazy cardio. however cardio is how everything in your body starts to speed up and burn off fat.

I understand I have good form when it comes to lifting weights and I understand lighter weight and more reps is for toning and heavier weights with less reps will help build muscle.

I know i’m not girly

I know I DO like taking classes, but i don’t

I know I DO like the gym once I’m there, but don’t find it in me to GET there

What I think I’m learning this time around is, there has to be a reason.
I’d love to say “oh well, my husband wants me HOT, so I have to go the gym” but he loves me just as I am, for some reason
I’d love to say ” I have to change my shape for a movie role” but I don’t have anything lined up, I don’t audition for TV/Film right now because I’m too far away
I’d love to say ” my agent got me this great job but I have to tone up”
I’d love to say “I have to be bikini ready by xx/xx/xxx” but i don’t
I’d love to say “oh I’m meeting my trainer, he kicks my ass in the best way” but I can’t afford a trainer
I’d love to say “I want to be healthier” but the truth is right now I don’t want anything, AND i want EVERYTHING. This time around I’ve learned there has to be a reason. Not just a “goal” a Reason. A reason for the Goal to even exist. This however, is also – where I am discouraged.

I miss dancing and moving
I miss being creative
i miss feeling good about my life in general. it really is quite depressing being in a place where you know maybe 3 people. I don’t feel motivated to do ANYTHING, but at the same time if I don’t do something about 35% of my body weight I could be on a track to worse things and I guess that could be my motivation.

I dont’ know, I’m not sure, but i know something has to change and I need to find a good reason to do it.