Workout Diaries: Day 210 (more or less)

Travis and I took a little hiatus from working out when we first moved to Nevada. Moving in and getting settled required all of our attention. So by the time we were settled and had found a gym to go to, it had been a little while and we both needed to work our way back up to snuff.

As many of you may recall, my primary goal for working out (ironically) is to GAIN weight by gaining muscle and increasing appetite. Let me report on that. Net weight gain=0. Net weight loss=0 (so that, at least, is good.) Net appetite increase=0. I went to the doctor this week and when I mentioned I'm having a difficult time getting up to a healthy weight, they decided to test me for hyperthyroidism. Again. I was tested last year and it was negative. Now, don't get me wrong. It's good to have a healthy thyroid. I don't take that for granted. I know too many people who don't. But... sometimes, I just wish there was some medical diagnosis once and for all for what I'm going through. It doesn't seem right that I don't change anything about my lifestyle, and suddenly (well, not suddenly, but steadily) I drop over ten pounds. Ten pounds, I might add, that I do NOT have to spare. And when I DO change my lifestyle it only slows the weight loss instead of reversing it. ??? I can't just "eat more." It doesn't work that way. I physically cannot.

Occasionally, I think about all of these things and it depresses me for a day or two. I feel helpless and scared and out of control of my body. It isn't a chronic depression, by any means. I don't curl up in a ball and cry. But it is awfully hard to get out of bed, and I feel like I'm moving through jelly all day long. (Of course, part of that moving-through-jelly feeling may be a result of soreness from the previous day's workout.)

But then, when I look at myself in the mirror, I don't see the reflection of someone who is starving to death. My cheekbones aren't poking through my face (although, I found some pictures of me from eight  years ago, and my! what chubby cheeks I had!); my collarbone doesn't look like it's going to tear out through my skin; my thighs touch when I'm seated. I actually have pretty impressive musculature now in my back and arms. I look...actually...really good! And I mostly feel good, if I'm eating healthily--and i DONT step on the damn scale!

So maybe that's what I need to do: NOT step on the scale, NOT measure my overall health by an instrument that only tells me one thing about myself.

I AM MORE THAN WHAT I WEIGH.

And This is Why I Will Never Publish

< writing process >

I'm gonna write. Where's my computer? 

[ten minutes, and a snack, later]

Ok. Gonna write. 

First, I gotta check my email. [Strongbad voice] "Email! Email!" I could have some important message, like maybe someone, somewhere, did... something really cool... Nope. Not even an automated message from the library.

That was disappointing.

Facebook! I haven't been on Facebook for like...five whole hours! My newsfeed's gonna be like...THREE FEET LONG! I may even have a NOTIFICATION! Maybe someone responded to that thing I posted... [ten twenty minutes later.] Wow... surprisingly little happened in five hours. What a shock. {sarcasm}

Well, okay. Back to my draft. I really don't have any other "pressing" web-related business.

Oh, wait! BLOGS! Yippee! I have at least twenty blogs I read, and I haven't checked them all day! Ooo, I love spying on other people's lives... [twenty minutes later] Ok...90% of these people haven't posted anything in over 3 months. One person posted one thing that was kind of long and I spent the entire time clicking the various links because I'm desperate to find ANYTHING INTERESTING ON THE INTERNET.

Close tabs. Open gmail. Again. Open Drive. Open draft. Stare blankly. Level of creativity status: Underwhelming, having been all sucked away by the mind-numbing distraction of voyeurism.

Wait! I can blog about this! That's writing, isn't it? It's being creative AND wasting time at the SAME TIME.  *mind blown*

Also, I forgot to check Twitter and Reddit...



< /writing process>

Island in the Sky

Believe it or not, the adjustment to living in Las Vegas has been a little difficult for me. I feel confident that this is where we're supposed to be, but I am continually exposed to a lot of what makes Vegas cheap and sad. Which sucks.

I know. I have only been here for two months, so who am I to criticize. But it is hard living in a place that builds its economy and its personality ("What happens in Vegas" and so forth) on vice. It is hard moving from a place where my personal philosophy was frequently reaffirmed to a place where most people find that philosophy quaint, at best, and in some cases downright ridiculous.

It is hard being LA's weekend mistress.

Anyway, to the point: Since we've been here, we've kept hearing about this mythical "Mt Charleston," a supposed "real" mountain in the vicinity of Vegas. Haha, I thought. I grew up in real mountains, and what I see around Vegas are dry craggy hills, at best. "But there's a ski resort on this mountain!" So what. I'll believe it when I see it.

Today, we had our last day off before Travis starts school again, and we decided to check out this Mountain of Charleston. So northward we went. Up past the strip, northward, westward, and out of town completely. Then we turned left, went several thousand feet straight up a gentle incline.

And suddenly yucca trees gave way to pines. The temperature dropped steadily. The air was fresh and comfortingly thin. The ground was almost--dare I say it?--green! We arrived at the base of a long loop trail (which we only did about 3/4 mile of, being unprepared) and just stared and stared and stared. It was like...a REAL MOUNTAIN.

One of the signs described it as an "Island in the Sky." An ecosystem so isolated and so unlike the surrounding Mojave Desert, that there are species of plants here found nowhere else on earth.

And the best part is, for the first time, I thought--I really thought--I could love living here. I mean, not just in a "it feels like we're on vacation here" way. But in a visceral way.

Guys, this place is totally LEGIT.

Storycrafting

I'm starting to get back into writing, now that I've got time. Now that I've graduated and I don't have school breathing down my neck. I have at least two manuscripts in the works right now, and it is time to get back to at least one of them.

One thing I've discovered over the past several years is that writing takes time. Duh. But I mean, it really, really takes time. Much of that time is spent not actually typing, but just thinking. Mentally planning. I can't just sit down and start blipping something out and expect it to be great. I have to plan my characters. I have to get to know them in my head, and then on paper in a kind of character summary. Then I know what they would do in any given circumstances. And only then can I begin to write their story.

I'm writing the story of a girl who goes through a spiritual journey. I feel like I can tell her story with some degree of authenticity, because it is, to a certain extent, my own. It is easier when I can infuse experiences from my own life into my storytelling. Yet, I don't know if it is any more difficult when a character and I have little in common. Another of my characters is a sociopath--and I don't think I'm much of a sociopath. This person is angelic on the exterior, and yet sadistic in ways I could never imagine myself to be. It is an interesting exercise designing the motives for a man such as he.

The most difficult thing about writing for me, at this point, is tone. I'm not sure who my audience is, yet. I'm writing a story that I ultimately would like to have published commercially, and for that, you need a definite audience. I don't know if what I'm writing will be more interesting for adults or teens--or both. But for now, I'll write it and see what comes out and decide all that later.

Out of the Frying Pan into the Fire

I don't know what I thought I would escape by leaving Utah. I think if I tried to explain it, I would just come off sounding like a jerk. And I also see the irony of this statement in reference to a previous post I wrote in defense of many things Utah. I still stand by that post.

But I will say, that in the move to Nevada--and, consequently, on my quest to redefine myself--maybe I thought to escape the culture of politely pretending to be perfect. I know no one, anywhere (with probably a very few exceptions) actually thinks they're perfect. It just seemed like everyone was trying really hard to be really good, and it made me uncomfortable sometimes, because I knew how really flawed I was. How really not into some things I was. How many doubts and questions and struggles I had with things that everyone around me took for granted--or at least seemed to. And I was mortally afraid of being judged for not trying hard enough to pretend that everything was all right. In some ways, it has been a relief to just...leave.

Now, that being said, let me share with you an observation of behavior here in Las Vegas: pervasive rudeness. Not everyone all the time. In fact, almost everywhere we go we meet genuinely cheerful people. But there also does seem to be a lot more out-and-out incivility. And feeling the dampening effect of this incivility on my spirits has caused me to reflect on the one thing I mentioned above that I thought was "wrong" with Utah. It made me realize that, though the hypocrisy of someone pretending that everything is all right bothers me, it doesn't bother me near as much as someone who doesn't even bother with the veneer of civility. It made me realize that it is not my problem if someone judges me for not being perfect.

That being polite, being nice (I know people hate that word) is totally, and wrongfully, underrated.

What Is Wrong With this Picture?

Take a look at this:

This rolled around Facebook last week and created quite a stir. Mostly of approval. I didn't think much of it at the time, except to feel a vague sense of unease. I didn't "Like" it, and I certainly didn't share it. But I didn't stop and address my unease either. I just moved on.

Today, I read this invective about this very meme, and it made me sit down and seriously think through my unease, and I find that my opinions have become...stronger. First, let's start with some hard, scientific truth--because, behind every fallacious argument rests a grain (however small) of truth.

Truth: Most men are hardwired to frequently think about sex. Visual cues are very strong for men, and seeing a woman display some skin MAY (not WILL) inspire a man to think sexy thoughts. That is scientific truth. If this is all this meme had said, it wouldn't have been controversial at all, and probably wouldn't have gone viral. But I suspect, by the charged wording, that sensationalism was its author's intent.

And this really gets to the heart of what I think is wrong here. Not the old, tired debate about whose responsibility it is to "keep mens' minds clean," but the question, Why are we still talking about this issue in these terms? Why are we still resorting to droll witticisms? And why, Oh WHY, do people still gobble up this kind of pharasaical nonsense as if it were gospel Truth?

First, the word "immodest." Modesty is a judgment based on subjective cultural values. In many Muslim countries what I wear every day is heresy. In Las Vegas, what I wear every day probably looks like way too much clothing to almost everyone else. What the author* doubtless meant by modesty here was the Mormon standard of modesty: no sleeveless, no booty shorts, no plunging necklines, etc. For those who don't know, this standard of modesty has its basis not solely on the caprice of Mormon culture, but because of certain commitments many Mormons choose to make in LDS temples. I personally have made these commitments, but as far as I'm concerned, they are between me and my God; I choose to conform to this standard of dress without reference to you, my neighbor or any other stranger. And I certainly don't expect everyone else to share my beliefs. What the author of this meme has effectively done, however, is to impose his or her standard of modesty on the world at large, regardless of the World-at-Large's sharing in the author's beliefs. This attitude really bothers me, because I feel, if fostered in Mormon communities, it will achieve nothing but to antagonize and to separate Mormons from their neighbors along totally superficial lines.

And even if it is only aimed at Mormon girls, what on earth does the author hope to achieve but to be divisive within the Mormon community?

The use of "immodest" bothers me, but not as much as the response to this meme. It was "liked" and "liked" and "liked" again! Some people were even avowing to use it in their next Young Women's (LDS youth group) lesson! WHAT? The only thing this is going to teach teenage girls is that men who appreciate women's bodies for the beauty that they are are not "real" and are ALL PIGS, and that it's okay to judge other girls' dress. I know teenagers love these simple little sayings, but that doesn't mean we need to be feeding them to them. That doesn't mean we need to be fostering self-righteousness. 

Whoever authored this is doubtless congratulating him or herself on a job well-done. They got lots of virtual slaps on the back from people. If you were one of those people who "liked" it or "shared" it, it's fine. Obviously, it doesn't make you a bad person. I do challenge you, however, to think hard before jumping onto this kind of bandwagon again. 

So basically, what bothers me the most about this meme is that it exists at all. Its very existence, and the praise it garnered, is, to me, an indication of an attitude that I wish were totally absent among the LDS community.

*I am actually not sure if this meme started in the LDS community, which necessarily makes some of my points moot. It may not have. Regardless, it became very popular among Mormons.

In which Australia's second favorite marsupial saves the day

It is time for an update. And I definitely feel more compulsion to write now that almost no one I know or care about (besides Travis) is involved in my daily life. So here goes...

We moved to Las Vegas on Friday, June 22. It was about 105 degrees and cloudless, and it only took about three minutes of moving sundry heavy items up 16 stairs to realize I was in trouble. My heart was racing and I could feel my face turning a bright, tomatoey shade. So I chugged ghastly amounts of water and came up with an ingenious plan of staying cool:

Did you know that kangaroos living in the Outback lick their arms and let it evaporate in order to stay cool? I'm sad to say, this little factoid gave me the idea. No, I did not lick my own arms, though the temptation was real. (Mmm...salty!) Every five minutes, though, I would splash cold water on my face, neck and arms, and by the time I made it back down the stairs to keep moving stuff, I was totally dry--but cool! Let me just say that it TOTALLY worked, and I have Australia's second favorite marsupial (after the koala) to thank for the idea. Hey. Don't bag it till you try it.

 Dad and Sue helped us move for the next three or so hours, and we all took turns resting in order to avoid heat exhaustion. After getting everything in the house, two things were determined: Summer really is a horrid time to move to Nevada. But all that said (and DONE) it was actually time to get some food.

The next day, we were able to take a VIP tour of the Hoover Dam that Sue had arranged for us. She knows the guy who runs the dam (yes. she knows the guy WHO RUNS HOOVER DAM) so we got to explore some places where almost no tourists get to go. Awesome doesn't do it justice. Neither does a photo, but here you go anyway.

It was another hot day.

In fact...let's just get something out of the way here, while we're at it. Fact: It is hot here. There hasn't been a day yet that hasn't soared well above 100 degrees. There are actually some clouds today, which constitutes a minor miracle. But the heat is still seering, and from everything I've been told, will continue to be so for the next few months. So, until further notice, just assume it is hot, and if it isn't, I'll be sure to let you know unless, of course, I first die of the surprise.

Well, that's it for now. There is more to tell--big news, even--but my patience for reporting all things quotidian is remarkable slight. So, for my benefit--and for the readers--I'll keep my updates short.

One last note, though. My parents in law, for my upcoming birthday and graduation, gifted me a Nook a couple weeks ago, and It and I have been inseparable ever since. I had been debating the purchase of an e-reader for some time now and had recently come to the decision to get one. Imagine my delight when, with very little effort on my part, my desire was fulfilled! I have now read all of Peter Pan as well as Pride and Prejudice (alliterations not intended) and my love for my Nook is now very real. It goes with me wherever I take my bag and sleeps on my pillow at night. In fact, i am now in the process of petitioning Harry Reid to draft a law that would allow polyandry in the state of Nevada so that my Nook and I might solemnize our love before a justice of the peace.

Travis doesn't mind. He's used to competing with my love of literature.