The Cough: An Update

I know.

I know.

You're all sitting there, on the edge of your seats, waiting. Waiting to hear about the state of my cough.

Well, it's changed! It's now a result of massive irritation in my throat, not the bronchitis. The drugs took care of that. So...yay? I guess? For that? 

I still cough. I cough away. 

*hack*

*hack*

*cough*

Scotland Yards of Ireland Issues

I was trying to find writing inspiration last night, and so I journeyed to my picture folder and found myself looking at photos from my first study abroad to Scotland the summer after my freshman year. I went with a group of students from Seattle for a theater festival in Edinburgh and I saw something crazy like 40ish plays in 20something days. It was one of the single most amazing experiences of my life.

But as I started going through the pictures, you know the very first complete memories that popped into mind?

During our first few days there, two things happened.

1) The very first night, we had gotten pizza and were chatting around the kitchen table. One of the girls interrupted me when I was telling a story and said something, I don't even remember WHAT it's been so many years, but along the lines of "Oh my god Taylor, you're loud!" or "be quieter!" or "you're screaming!" or some variation. I mean, we were drinking! So I shut my mouth like a fucking child and didn't talk for twenty minutes.

2) I was a nineteen year old know-nothing about alcohol, and I ordered the only beer on the menu I recognized at the first bar we went to---a Budweiser. Someone made the mistake of telling me that the bartender made fun of me for this, and I obsessed about that all night. And I'm sure everyone was like dude, shut up about the bartender.

I know right? I know. Sadness. I did better, for the most part, the rest of the trip, at least to my recollection, with containing my crazy.

It's a reoccurring theme in my life. Obsessing over what people think of me, to the detriment of my enjoyment of fabulous, once in a lifetime events.

Or not taking full advantage of these chances because of anxiety about being accepted by the group, or not having fun, or not having the energy because of my weight, or not being capable enough in some way or cool enough or mature enough or something. And then regretting not participating when it comes down to it.

That's what happened all too often on my second study abroad trip, three months in Belfast, Northern Ireland when I was twenty.

Look at me, hiding my chins
behind my cider.

If I were to pick out two memories from our first few nights there, they would be these:

1) When I rejected the invitation to hang out with the girls on my floor, and I never got invited again.

2) When I rejected the invitation to go hiking the first weekend with the group because I was too afraid I'd be fat and slow and make everyone wait for me, and I still look at everyone's pictures and wish I had seen that view.

There are other times on that trip that I pulled the same types of behaviors, nights I didn't go out to the pubs because I felt too fat or boring, days I couldn't muster the energy to participate in conversations because I felt like I didn't belong.

It makes me sad to think back on the amazing opportunities I had over the course of my life, and think that I didn't truly enjoy them the way that I should have, because I was too wrapped up inside my own head, a dark place at the time. Study abroad, college in general, even high school.

But what can you really do? I could fixate on the moments I missed out on, the things I didn't do and the memories I wish I had, or I could try to move past that and focus on all the awesome ones I do have. Of which there are A LOT. Both trips were two of the best times of my life, and I cannot even begin to catalogue the incredible nights I had. So why sit here and remember the most painful moments when I can remember the happy ones?

The past is the past and it makes you who you are. Every picture I have is a part of my story, and when I tell the whole thing some day it will be more interesting because of the good and the bad, the beautiful and the painful. I keep reminding myself not to regret, and of course it applies here.

I don't have to be a masochist. When I look at all my old photos, I don't have to let the bad memories resurface first.

Night and Day

Tree

Dark. Mysterious. Trapped.

Deuce and Annie Boo

Happy. Sunny. Free.

Things I Am Not, A-Z

Things I Am Here

Athletic
Blonde
Confident

Dedicated
Enigmatic
Friendless

Getting any

Hopeless

Indifferent
Joyless
Kempt
Lean
Monied

Neat
Organized
Patient

Quiet
Reticent 
Statuesqe
Tan

Underweight
Vapid

Wild
Xenophobic
Yiddish
Zealot

Reasons Why A Guy Blows You Off

Reasons Why A Guy You Made Out With In High School Stands You Up When You Gather The Balls To Invite Them Out Downtown:

A) Their phone really did die, and they really did forget!

B) They were attacked by a GIANT MUTANT BLOB THING CREATURE MAN!

C) Something about his grandma.

D) He's banging a chick.*

....

......

I'll wait. Give you time to think.

Did you think?

Did you pick D? You're right.

I don't care. I mean, obviously, I'm not that much of a cray bitch and it's not like I've seen the guy in years. Couldn't give less of a fuck, and now I know the reason, which is way better.

But damn. WANTED ME A MAKE OUT.

*Things you learn from Facebook.

Morning Meowing Practice

You can check out other animals doing yoga here and here courtesy of Liz over at Vegging Out In SacTown!

Perfection and Passion

I can't expect everything to be perfect.

This is my realization of the day. I had an appointment with my drug doctor today, and the crux of it is, I'm not 100% happy right now. Things are feeling kind of...stagnant. And the question I'm asking myself is, should I be? Should a bunch of little pills be making me totally, completely, all-consumingly blissful?

Nope.

I have to work at happiness, too. I have to put in some effort, and do more. No, I don't need to put tons of pressure on myself and pile on the goals, and I need to calm my tits, but I do need to do more that makes me happy and feel good. And less that makes me...not.

Anti-depressants are supplemental, they're not all-powerful. I think a part of me is almost waiting for some switch to flip until I'm really ready to make the final change and charge towards being the kind of person I think I can be. Till I'm perfect. This super productive, impressive, yoga-fied goddess, on the go, full of energy, positive and powerful. I keep thinking the right combo of drugs in the right dosage will kick in and turn me into some mighty mistress of awesome, but the only thing that will turn me into that person is me, and my willpower.

(I should really read that damn book.)

But you know, I also don't have to be that person, right? Not totally and completely. It's okay to be who I am just naturally part of the time too, which is a kind of a lazy, self-involved, goofy homebody.

But only some of the time...

I think a lot of it comes down to passion, really. Rediscovering it, redirecting it. I know I'm a passionate person, I see it in the way I act and love and live, but all too often I let those passions drift towards the unhealthy, the indulgent, the detrimental, and away from the nurturing and the challenging. Because of fear, of course, and because I like the safe and the familiar.

And I'm lazy.

It's just so much easier to be lazy.

Whenever I try for something, I try for perfection. It's my ultimate problem, I've discussed it often in therapy. I always have this image in my head of the best way things could be, the best person I could be. I make plans and I make schedules, I fantasize, I imagine a world where this perfect me achieves this perfect ideal and things are so much happier then. That ultimate goal is never going to be attainable, so when I try and try and you know, fail as I am inevitably going to, I get frustrated and disappointed and I spiral into self-loathing.

I'm incredibly predictable.

You've seen this before, if you've been reading my blog long enough.

And this happens with everything.

So what is it that I'm waiting for? The perfect combination of motivation and happiness to launch me into...what? A disconnected yogi who meditates all day, never goes online at night, drinks nothing but water and tea and reads until her eyeballs fall out of her skull?

Who says I have to be that person?

Baby steps, folks. I can mix good habits with the more indulgent. I can find myself some balance. That's what yoga's all about anyway, balance. Not perfection. Not forcing yourself into habits that don't suit you yet, straining to find some sort of meaning amongst a Spartan life.

Not that there's not something to be gained in all these goals and challenges I've set for myself, I'm not saying that. I'm just saying that perhaps my motivation for it and my methods aren't the best right now. Maybe I don't have to be the best. And I don't have to be perfect.

Screen Free Week: Day One

Well, I already fail.

I woke up this morning and pulled my laptop into my, well, lap, before I even though about it.

And I'm kind of on a writing kick, and I really really reeeeeeally don't want to leave my laptop at work tonight...and as we all know, it's very hard for me to resist my wants.

And I want to write.

WHY CAN'T I JUST DO WHAT I SAY I'M GOING TO DO!?!?!

I think I'm overwhelming myself with too many goals. I keep wanting to OD on self-improvement, no Diet Coke and no computer and no this and more yoga and more reading and more that, and maybe I just need to breathe for a second.

I AM CALM.

Callllllm.

Screen Free Week...you are my Everest.

Happy Monday

Thank the Universe it's over.

15 Reasons Why Having A Cat Is Better Than Having A Boyfriend

In case you haven't noticed, I may be a little lonely lately. Missing the fellas. Wanting a boyfriend.

So this Buzzfeed could not come at a more opportune time.

Feeling clingy? No problem.

Cats take exceptionally good care of their appearance.

Fact: a pretentious cat is 400% more tolerable than a pretentious boyfriend.

My Inner Lady

A lovely little old man looking for Social Security told me today that I am "pleasant and feminine". It was sweet.

Something like this, I imagine?

If only he knew...

Orange Sky

Assortment of thoughts.

1) I ordered takeout on Friday night from my fave spot and my receipt had "VIP customer" on it. They certainly know how to keep my business.

2) I just feel so much better about myself when I take the time to beautify. On Saturday, I just felt more...me. It doesn't really take that much effort, I need to just do it, Nike style.

3) I think I want to do a cleanse before yoga teacher training. I know everyone has different opinions about cleanses, and Queen Goop Gwyneth Paltrow's endorsement makes me not want to give them any of my money, but the Clean cleanse did really wonderful things for me a few years ago and I think I want to do it again.

4) I used this cat age calculator, and apparently my Bentley is just shy of 73 years old. Old cranky man. Always staring at me.

5) I have another seeeeecret. This one I'm just going to tell you right away, though. I've been keeping it from you long enough. Are you ready? ARE YOU READY? Okay.

I'm getting a tattoo next weekend with my Biff and my Buff.

OH YEAH.

The idea came to us a few weeks ago, to all get foot tattoos together, and it just seems oh so right. The Biff and I are matching, the Buff is getting a quote. Never fear, I'll show you pictures and explain the tat when I get it, but you'll have to wait.

A preview: has to do with yoga (duh). Not the om symbol, though.

I am so very excited, and I WANT IT NOW.

The Return

Shhh.

I went to yoga. Don't tell the doctor.

But it's okay! Because 1) it wasn't heated and 2) it was restorative, so it won't set back my recovery AT ALL.

And it was glorious.

I was at the studio anyway for my cleaning shift that I switched from Sunday, and one of my favorite teachers was subbing, and I was like WELL OF COURSE I HAVE TO, and I did.

Mmmmmm stretchy.