First Dating: The relentless muse (short essay, rough)

More ramblings of the heart, they have become my obsessive little muse. There is so much to study, and assess - and these emotions are beautiful and ugly and confusing and exhausting! So what is IT? It is the allure of finding a love that consumes you. The kind that draws you in like the prick to a balloon - slowly at first, but eventually deflating all sense of logic and bringing a dreamy air of possibility to your conscious. It takes you. It feeds you. It changes you. Love pumps venom through your heart and brings life to youthful fairy tales - is Prince Charming real? How many toads am I supposed to kiss? What of those toads - who ends up with them? That first fall will cripple you. Your communications skills, persuasion tactics, and emotional tolerances are challenged. Too philosophical? I am easily lost inside metaphors and unnecessary verbiage. The truth is this: love is a hostile takeover.

A bit more about me: I am an insubordinate asshole. You say black - I say rainbow. You say no? I forge ahead and paint my rebellion in your skyline. Is this a sign of immaturity? A quirk of personality? Sometimes with love I scream, "NO!" I fight. I run. I muzzle my emotion - always without success. No matter the refusal, my heart always wins. I have cussed, and turned my back, and unsuccessfully attempted to spit out this fire. The fire that eagerly tries to ignite its insanity in my heart. Does this make me the Scrouge of love? Probably. But does any writer have a story that isn't bleeding with heartbreak and difficulty? Is pain the muse that propels our pen - or our cursor - into motion?

Hemingway drank and whispered imaginary people into his prose. He seemed to have it right.  Every work of his mind has been regarded as a "revolutionary piece of art" - and it was. It still is. But he was also a drunk that penned his thoughts to paper with self-loathing and whiskey.  Every writer has a trigger, or two, that prompts thought into action. Guess what mine is? Emotion fascinates me. Love hypnotizes, terrifies, and stumps me. I realize that my disgruntled obsession is self-inflicted. I know that the pursuit of understanding such an elusive enigma will pickle my mind and, likely, breed pessimism - but I still think that love is the greatest thing that can ever happen to you. Or to me. Every folly - every fall - every heartache and every single butterfly IS a hostile takeover. How will I choose to submit? Find. Understand. Conquer.

The search continues.

Day Three: I hate all of you.

5am came really early today. I am pretty well adapted to this insane workout regime I implemented on myself, but today was just terrible.

Going into this cleanse, I knew that day three was going to be wretched. This is the day that your body starts detoxing all of the nasty crap you have been feeding it - caffeine, alcohol, hot dogs, BARBEQUE, of all things. I am pretty picky about what I eat, but let's be real. Sometimes you just need a damn hot dog with grilled onions, relish, sour kraut, fresh onions, and jalapenos... (Have I ever mentioned how much I LOVE hot dogs??) Where is the Hot Dog King right now?!?! I have a funny story about that guy, but I will share that one later.

This morning was rough. I stumbled out of bed and begrudgingly drove myself to the gym. I map my workout routine the night before and save it to my iPhone (it minimizes my mindless wandering around the machines) and I completed every single set of leg exercises. I felt like death through the entire process. I felt nauseous. I felt tired. I felt cranky. I felt like sleeping on the ab bench sounded much more gratifying than sit-ups on the ab bench. When Stephen asked me, "how are you feeling?" This is what I told him:

How am I feeling? How am I FEELING? Let me tell you how I'm fucking feeling. I feel like shit. I'm tired. I'm hungry. I'm sweaty. I smell like ass. And I'm pissed off at that stupid girl and her pony tail - why does she look so damn chipper!? I hate you. I hate this. I hate everyone and I just want to go home and take a NAP.

I stormed off, miserable and exhausted. Once home, I kept my promise and took a 30 minute siesta. Mind you, I was drenched in sweat so now my awesome egyptian cotton bedding smells like angry gym girl. At 8am I woke up and was less angry, but still feeling yucky. I did some more research on the mechanics of juicing and I deduced that I was not drinking ENOUGH of that green sledge. I am basically an anorexic juicer. I kind of feel like that is a double negative, but I'm not a doctor.

Trial and error, I seem to be doing a lot of that. I stopped by Daily Juice and ordered a 24oz Depth Charge - it is 100% green nutrients, and it was delicious. I am also upping my water consumption and introducing a fish oil vitamin into my routine. For now, I am less crazy and feeling much more optimistic about this juicing thing. Time will tell.

Stay thirsty my friends.

One down, twenty to go.

Day two. I survived the night and maintained a surprising amount of energy this morning. I learned, the hard way, that the amoxicillin I'm taking can cause insomnia. How awesome is that? I am a total diva about my sleep, but when 5am struck I was one perky ponytail pounding away on the treadmill. I always open my workout with a 2.5 mile run; I like to sweat. If I'm not sweaty, I feel like I'm not making any changes. Post run, I was high on endorphins and pumped to tackle my least favorite day of the week: arm day. I understand why men like to pump up those SWOL biceps - they see instant results! I do not see instant results. I have weak little woman arms and no matter how many tricep curls or military pushups I do - I still look like Patty Mayonaise. It is maddening. But yet, I push on.

I need to stop right here and make a confession: I made a slight modification to my juicing regime. After several conversations with the only doctor friend I have, and a few recommendations from friends, I was finally convinced that juicing while on heavy antibiotics is not the best idea. HOWEVER, I found the happy medium. I will continue to drink my veggies for breakfast, lunch, and snacks - but for dinner I will rotate in various vegetable based soups and smoothies. Last night I went fat girl on a bowl of five-onion soup from Central Market. If you know me, then you know how much I love onions. All onions. Slice them up with salt and pepper, and I will crunch on that tangy snack all day long. YUM. Today I am rotating carrot juice (which I learned, I do not hate!), black bean puree, and that dreaded "veggie juice" I mentioned yesterday. I think I'm going to heat it up and drink it as a soup. Stephen doesn't think I can muscle through it, so clearly I must prove him wrong.

Here I go, trotting along the trail to physical enlightenment. Or am I just stumbling into Crazy Town? I think it is too early to tell. No wine. No booze. No coffee. No chocolate. And NO hot dogs. NO FUN AT ALL!! I haven't attempted any acts of homicide, yet. I had a nasty craving for tater tots last night, but then I reminded myself that nobody wants to see a tater tot in a bikini. One day at a time, people, one day at a time.

To be continued.

Juicing: Day One. Let's get our feet wet.

I would like to start by bringing up the topic of oral health, and I would like to add emphasis on the importance of regular visits to your family dentist. I mean, REGULAR. 

I am good to my teeth. I brush, 2x daily, floss, gargle with mouthwash, and I have even dabbled in the trendy art of "oil-pulling". I have braces, as an adult (pause for snickering), and I am pretty reliable with my ortho and dental visits. Or so I thought. My orthodontist mentioned, about a year ago, that my wisdom teeth needed to be pulled. The conversation was casual, and he suggested a handful of oral surgeons that would be a good fit for me - I left his office and never thought about it again. Wisdom teeth - what was the big deal? My current insurance plan didn't cover the extraction and if it was such a looming problem then my Orthodontist would have said so, right? My work schedule is erratic and the idea of blocking out time to get hopped up on funny gas and endure a set chubby cheeks just didn't sound like anything I was interested in. I mean come on, ain't nobody got time for that.

Well...I should have made time for that. Let's talk about how awesome my Easter weekend was! I woke up Saturday morning with mind blowing pain in my left jaw; this pain was so intense, it shackled me to the bed all. Day. Long. I googled every known toothache remedy - clove oil, tea bags, salt water, you name it! Nothing would alleviate my agony. By 10pm that evening I was seriously considering a trip to the ER; a good friend of mine, bless her sweet soul, dropped by with a few pain meds that promptly lulled me into a peaceful slumber. (I would like to insert a disclaimer here, before rumors of drug use circulate the Internet - I am NOT a recreational drug user, but sometimes you need something stronger than a Tylenol) Sunday morning I woke up with zero pain. In exchange, my face had swollen to the size of a citrus fruit and I looked like a chipmunk. I instantly thought I had inadvertently ingested nuts at some point, but my boyfriend reassured me that he didn't try to poison me while I was out. What. The. Fuck.

After several conversations with my mother, my friends, and God himself, we all agreed that I needed to get into the dentist ASAP. Unfortunately for me, my dentist is a family practice and they are not open on the weekend. It was not until Monday morning (today) that I could get in for a consult. And wouldn't you know, those evil WISDOM TEETH had resurfaced to ruin my life. So here I am, puffy faced and on an intense cocktail of amoxicillin. We have set the date for oral surgery - Cinco de Mayo, God really has a peculiar sense of humor. On another note, once these wretched wisdom teeth are gone, my braces will follow. FINALLY.

On another note, and the real reason behind this blog post, I am taking this opportunity - the one where I am puffy faced and reduced to mush as nourishment - to test the infamous "juice cleanse". I am a sucker for trendy "lifestyle" changes. I am militant with my workout schedule and I am pretty picky about what goes into my body. However, after watching 'Fat, Sick, and Nearly Dead' I have decided that a little detox would do me some good.

My Goal: 21 days ON THE JUICE, to encompass my time on antibiotics and the recovery period after my oral surgery.
Plan: I am starting with the Central Market, in-house juices until I find a juicer I like. Today I picked up Beet/Apple/Orange/Ginger and it did not suck, it was actually delicious. I also bought carrot juice, and a "raw vegetable" concoction of celery/spinach/jalapeno/tomato/carrot/leek/cucumber that does NOT sound so awesome.

I will make a very solid attempt to track my progress via this blog. Let's be real, I have made that promise in the past and failed every single time. This time, (un)fortunately, I refuse to show my face in public until the swelling is gone. This Mac and I are going to have a lot of one-on-one time together to bond. Or to blog. Cross your fingers.