My e-mail is cleaned up and I still don’t know what to write about. I go upstairs to moisturize my skin and I come back down to a blank page. My heart is racing from the double shot of espresso I had earlier in the morning and I still don’t know how to get scribbling. I’ve opened up my packages from Amazon finally, after waiting a couple of days due to THE virus, and still, nothing. I go back upstairs to brush and floss my teeth, but when I come back down it’s still nada on the screen. I watch an episode of one of my favorite TV shows and then come back and not a single letter materializes on my Word document. I go do the dishes and then look out the window for a little bit. A fly has attached itself on the glass and while it stares out into space, I scratch the glass with my finger. The fly rubs its front legs together like a scheming person. Oh how I wish I could scheme some words onto the page. I walk away again, this time accidentally bruising my knee and wondering if bruising my knee could ever happen on purpose. I mean, I suppose if I’m a parkour expert or something, but I imagine I wouldn’t pull any stunt to bruise myself on purpose, right? Nope, there’s no logical reason why getting a bruise would ever not be on accident, just like there’s no logical reason why I can’t seem to find the words to fill this page. As I am nursing my knee on the couch, I stare at a painting on the wall. It is one my parents had bought from my art teacher from a long time ago. My mom didn’t really like it, but I did because it had a butterfly in it, so she reluctantly got it. It was the beginning of me fighting for my right to be heard. If only this page could hear me in my time of need and spill some words out. Nothing. My eyes shift over to my bed. I yawn and really want my head to make friends with the pillow. My eyes agree. I think they are tired of looking at a lot of nothing, so my brain agrees as well. I remove my butt from the chair. I think I’m good to work on this writer’s block tomorrow…
You too, are a crazy writer. Ernest Hemingway once said, “There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.” He is correct. There’s culture, there’s race, there’s gender, there’s sports fan, there’s music fan, there’s age, and then there’s writer. We belong in a category all our own. I mean, if you really think about it, I think writer might be a category for everybody. I used to think all my overanalyzing everything, all my replaying every embarrassing moment in my head, all my word hustling, all my perfectionism, all my redundancy, all my thoroughness, all my curiosity…was just a girl thing. Now that I really think about, it’s a crazy writer thing. And honestly it probably stems even further than that. It’s a human thing. Whether you actually enjoy writing or not, as long as you learned how, you’ve probably done some sort of writing in your life for any number of reasons, from making a grocery list to writing a dissertation. Every piece of writing comes as a result of thinking. You wouldn’t even be able to do any physical writing without thinking. So in a way everyone who is able to think is a writer. Every thought that is not voiced aloud can be written down and in a way appears in invisible ink on invisible paper that is stored somewhere underneath an invisibility cloak. But when we need something to be written down for real, we can always pull off the invisibility cloak. (If only crafting a novel was that easy, am I right?) When Hemingway said we bleed, he meant we share the raw unadulterated thoughts that most people would be too afraid to share. We do this because we are crazy writers and that is part of who we are. Each one of these thoughts we share opens us up for ridicule and shame and ultimately, judgment. But we do it anyway because it is who we are.
I would not want to enter an eating contest. They don’t say “too much of a good thing is a bad thing” for nothing and an eating contest is exactly that from my stomach’s point of view. And that is also precisely why I can’t imagine being Miki Sudo or participating in the 10,000 calorie challenge. Apparently Miki Sudo broke her personal best record last month at the Nathan’s Famous Hot Dog Eating Contest by consuming 48.5 hot dogs. Meanwhile, I just found out the 10,000 calorie challenge is where someone tries to consume 10,000 calories worth of food in one day. That may sound like an epic cheat day to some, but even though I have never tried it, no way José does that sound like an epic cheat day to me.
Where does someone have the room for 48.5 hot dogs in their stomach? I’m having trouble imagining where it would all go. Your intestines would be working overtime and that would be just during the contest. After the contest is over your intestines would continue to work so bad you would feel all the pain and discomfort that comes with an overly expanded stomach. That is not something I would want to go through or feel. Call me a big baby and call me lazy or unmotivated, but I don’t believe ruining my digestive system is worth the hype of winning an eating contest as a life goal. I’d rather work hard towards something that actually matters and makes a difference in this world. I’m going to say that even if I sound self-righteous to some because I know what I really mean and if someone thinks I’m sounding self-righteous, that is their own misinterpretation and I have no control over that.
Where does someone have the capacity for all that sodium and sugar that a 10,000 calorie diet day will entail? I know people taking on the challenge were prepping their bodies for it in various ways, but still. I can’t see any health benefits from it. Call me a health freak, but I don’t see how that can be a bad thing, especially after I watched my father die of colon cancer. Trust me, when you watch a loved one go through a health crisis like that, it pretty much kills any sort of desire in your body to eat wrecklessly. It doesn’t mean I don’t sometimes opt for something that is higher in sodium or sugar than I should, but I have become a lot more health-conscious since losing my dad. I already was before he passed, but I am even more so now.
I would not want to enter an eating contest. Sorry not sorry.
Saturday, April 21, 2018 – I’m sorry I don’t have any pictures from this Nerdy 30s event. I honestly don’t know what happened to them. This was at one of the girls’ house. I remember walking in thinking “wow, her house is nice, but in the way anyone who is around her 30s with a house would be.” I don’t mean that in a bad way at all. I am not one to talk as I don’t even own my own house. Anyway…she did an excellent job hosting in my humble opinion. I remember three distinct areas: one with all the refreshments, one with all the couches and sitting room, and of course, one with the table with all the loot.
Now I’m not as into makeup as I believe many other girls are, but I decided to come because I wanted to do something fun like my own DIY skincare product with like-minded girls. I had my eye on making a lip scrub so that was my focus while I watched the other girls work on actual makeup for eyes and lips and the such. I was amazed at how simple it was to make a lip scrub by mixing a few natural ingredients together like sugar and lemon. (And no, that’s not a lip scrub by itself, just two different ingredients.) Since then I’ve been using my lip scrub on areas of my skin where it’s more dry than others so it did not end up being strictly for my lips. If it did, I’m afraid I would have eaten it up faster than I let it exfoliate.
Our hostess had Hershey’s nuggets and I was so excited for them because I hadn’t had those in forever and I loved them as a teen! She also got us talking about our favorite shows and guy chick flicks like That Awkward Moment and what everyone does for a living. I got to know a lawyer and an editor better than I did before, which goes to show it doesn’t matter what we girls do for a living, we all like hanging out and chilling at a girly table laughing about our life experiences that many times involve our jobs. So hopefully I didn’t disappoint you by the title, but it was not named by me and the whole event was more about makeup than any sorts of trouble, though I guess you can count us sharing work stories as that, but it was a fun, relaxing afternoon to say the least. Sometimes that’s all you need. No drama mamas here.
What is it about matching three things in a row? The makers of Candy Crush and all games where you have to match three of the same things in a row is so addictive! Maybe I’m late to the game in discovering this, (I’m not sorry for the pun) but a few days ago I suddenly wanted to find a new game to play on my phone so I searched and I found this new one (not going to name it here to protect its identity) that is a version of the match three in a row game and wheel of fortune combined. With each solved word puzzle you get a motivational quote. It’s very girly with butterflies and flowers and rivers and water droplets and such that give an extra boost in power per move. If Oprah comes to mind, you would be correct. She invented this game and it has over 300 levels. I like the motivational quotes, but I don’t like the five life limit where you have to wait half an hour per life to earn each life back and while I wouldn’t just sit there and wait, I did find myself remembering whenever the time was up. I don’t like my brain constantly thinking of ways to crack the level I’m on as I’m trying to do something else. I don’t like my grabbing for my phone every time I’m in a waiting-for-the-next-thing-in-my-schedule situation. I don’t like staying up late playing away my five lives. I don’t like myself opting for watching the 30-second video to refill a life a lot faster. I don’t like playing the game while I’m out for a run just to try to get to the next level faster. I don’t like playing the game while I’m trying to eat lunch at the same time. I don’t like the red low charge warning percentage that keeps showing up. Most of all, I don’t like all the time I will never get back because I was busy with this game. A few nights ago before I even made it to the 40th level, I clicked on the “x” on the corner of my app and let it delete itself off my phone including all the “data” I had gotten to with all the levels of the game I had become successful at. I feel like I rebooted and I have my life back again. I whispered to myself, “Never again.” So far it is the loudest whisper ever.