Nonsensical Insomnia

I've said before that I don't understand why my son (and all children) fight sleep so hard.

This can't possibly be true, because I, too, fight sleep all the time.

I do completely understand fighting sleep. It seems there is always something that keeps me awake.

There are things to be done... Fun to be had... time to actually be alone. Thoughts to be pondered, considerations to be made, things that simply keep me from that subconscious slumberland that allows my body to rest and regenerate.

I live on naps.

Thirty minutes here, a few hours there.. I can go days on end only getting a short cat nap here and there... and then I crash. One entire day is wasted while my body plays catch up. I guess I would rather lose one whole day once a week rather than a half a day every day.

Or maybe it's just that I work nights so my internal clock is screwed beyond all measure. I don't know.

But I can't sleep. And that's just the way it is.

And I can't write either.
I am still sick.... and it has been over two weeks now.
My energy and creativity levels, it seems, have been completely drained...

Unfortunately, my sinuses haven't.

Learning how to breathe

Upon reading the the title of this blog, you might have braced yourself for a hearbreaking yet empowering read... A tale of depression and devastation followed by the realization that life does go on... Perhaps you expected that "get back on your feet" story that is often associated with a person metaphorically learning how to breathe again...

Sorry to disappoint you with the lack of a deeper hidden meaning... It was just a fancy way to say that I am learning how to breathe when my nose is filled with stubborn, dried, crusty boogers clinging on for dear life, that absolutely refuse to budge no matter how many times a day I blow and sniff and sneeze trying to clear my nasal passages.

Colds are nasty, nasty things.

I'm finding that the old familiar technique of breathing through my nose leaves me gasping for air like a geriatric whose grandkids thought it would be funny to put a kink in the oxygen tubes like they would a garden hose (the results are definitely not as fun as spraying the unsuspecting hoser in the face as they attempt to figure out why the water stopped).

Let me be the first to tell you, it is certainly not easy to breathe through your mouth without looking like a gaping idiot.

So I'm trying to breathe half through my nose and half through my mouth.
From a distance, I probably look like I'm mumbling to myself. Throw in the occasional nose twitching as I try to loosen those disgusting mucus plugs, and I probably look like a crack addict mumbling to myself...

I guess I just have to keep in mind it's only a cold. It WILL go away... and by the time I finally get this new method of breathing figured out, I'll be able to breathe regularly again. Go figure. But then, it won't be long and I'm sure I'll be finding myself under the weather yet again....

'Tis the season... =/

How not to come out of the closet.

Some lessons are best learned by experience.

Though this is a lesson most of you probably have no use for, it is something I learned through experience that I felt compelled to share. There is no need to be alarmed, I wasn't the one coming out and that is not anything you have to worry about coming from me anytime soon (unless you tend to be on the receiving end of some of my drunk texts... in which case I sincerely apologize)!

Several years ago I had a friend and coworker who felt the need to share her deepest darkest secret with me. We weren't the very best of friends... I did enjoy working with her and we spent a little bit of time together outside of work, but not enough that I would really consider her close.

But I take secrets very seriously. When someone shares a secret with you, it means they trust you - it's a sure sign that they think of you as a true friend, and I think that's kind of a big deal, so I was quite flattered...

Until she told me her secret, that is.

I was sworn to secrecy and was asked to promise that I wouldn't laugh at her. After I assured her that I would keep her secret safe and would not be judgemental, she finally opened up.

"I think I'm bisexual," She told me awkwardly.
"Oh." I replied, unsure of how to react to the most recent discovery my friend had made about herself.
"Don't worry," She put her hand on my shoulder, "You're really not my type... so don't think I'm going to be hitting on you or anything. You're just a friend."

Whew!

At first I was relieved. I wouldn't have to worry about her looking at my butt when I bent over (which happened often in my job duties) or trying to put any moves on me if we were just hanging out watching movies like we'd done before.

But as time went on, being one of the few to know her secret, I was subject to her rambling on about her crushes or love interests. Time and time again, she would point out a member of our sex that she found attractive, and the only thing running through my mind was her telling me I wasn't her type.

Seriously? She thought that skinny girl with the stringy blonde hair who wore too much eyeshadow was hot, but I wasn't her type? The short gal with the big nose and frighteningly white teeth was pretty, but she didn't like me.

I thought about it quite a bit.

It really wasn't that I wanted her to be attracted to me... I was much more comfortable with our friendship knowing that she wasn't going to be checking out my rack at any chance she got... but at the same time, I was offended.

How dare she not think I was gorgeous?

I'm pretty much over it now.

I don't have any advice on how to come out of the closet... and I don't plan to gain any personal first hand experience in that field. The only thing I can say is just keep your straight friends' feelings in consideration!

"Hey man, I'm gay but I think you're ugly" can and probably will insult your friend. But at the same time, "By the way, I like chicks, and I love your ass in those jeans" is probably going to freak them out a bit. Trust me - the latter would be me when I've had too much to drink!

(Just for the record, this friend of mine is in the open about her sexuality now, and I didn't mention her name, so I really don't consider this blog a breech of trust!)

Bloggercising

I am, at this exact moment, getting multiple types of exercise.

Yes... I have gone from being anti-physical activity to trying to find a form of exercise in regular every day activities.... such as taking the long way around the machines at work for an extra walk, dancing the night away at the bar (and trying not to lose any clothing) and... bloggercising.

Right now I am working my arm muscles, riding an exercise bike (5 mies is the plan) and... blogging.

"How in the hell are you managing that," you may ask.

I am on a recumbent styled exercise bike, for starters. This leaves my lap area open... perfect for a laptop computer. Or not... It is extremely hard to type on a laptop that is bouncing n my lap with each pedal. This is where the arm workout comes in.

I'm actually holding the laptop with one arm while typing with my free hand. I have to switch arms frequently... I am not sure how heavy the laptop is, but I am willing to bet that it is heavier than and most certainly more awkward than the three pound barbells I have been lifting.

Bloggercising exercises my mind... and body.

I have already ridden four and a half miles without even thinking about it! Pretty sweet deal, if you ask me.

I've also been sending text messages.
If text messaging counted as exercise, I could be considered a thumb-fitness enthusiast. Unfortunately, such dedication to conditioning my favorite opposable digits will likely result in multiple carpal tunnel surgeries later down the road.

I have to admit, it is certainly not nearly as hard to take 35 minutes or so out of my day to ride 5 miles on the bike and do my other exercising. Today was day 4 for exercising, and it's already getting easier. I can do 7 push ups before I have to stop to breathe! I am still feeling the burn every time I laugh, cough or move any inch of my body... But as I start to feel healthier and begin to see chages (yes, it will take time) I know I'll find the pain to be worth it.

Let's get physical

Illinois is the only state in which students are required to take some type of physical education (this includes extra curricular sports like basketball, volleyball, and, umm... bowling?) through all 4 years of high school.

I can't tell you how many times I'm sure I begged my parents to cross the Indiana border. P.E was my least favorite class, and I was never into sports. Unfortunately, my tiny school didn't have a bowling league - though I did have a friend in the next town who bowled on her school team specifically to dodge P.E.

As I mentioned, I attended a very small school. There couldn't have been more than fourty students in the entire high school during any of my four years there.

My Freshman year of high school, I ended up in a P.E class that consisted of mostly Seniors. There were a few Sophomores and a handful of Juniors, but I was the only Freshman in the class. Unfortunately for me, our teacher liked to have his students do their warm-ups by grade.
So my entire Freshman year of high school, I was running (ok, jogging..ish) the length of the gym, doing push ups, sit ups and jumping jacks alone.

I wasn't just doing warm-ups alone. When we played dodgeball, close to the end of classtime we would play teams by class. Freshman VS. everyone until it was over, then Sophomores VS. everyone, etc. etc.

Yes. It was me, the lone Freshman on one side of the gym... and 15 or so other students on the other side. Throw in 5 or 6 dodgeballs, it made for some fun times, I tell ya.

The next two years of High School still sucked, but it wasn't nearly as bad. I got used to the teacher, and by my Senior year, he was actually one of my favorites. That was a good thing, because I was the only Senior in my P.E class my last year of high school. It was the same thing all over again.

I got singled out and made fun of often.

In fact, he even told me once that I looked like a camel in heat while I was doing push ups. (I'm not really sure what a camel in heat looks like - but I'll warn you... If you google it, don't click on anything that says "camel toe." )

Up until last night, I think the only pushing up I've done since high school has been with a D cup. I have avoided exercise like the plague, despite the fact that I've been encouraged to do just that for most of this year.

Last night I gave up. Fine. I'll do it. Not because I'm being told to, but because I know I should do it... Because I can tell just how out of shape I am when I'm chasing a two year old around the house.

I was told to start easy, ten push ups and ten crunches for starters. Then work up to more. "Ten?" I thought. That doesn't seem like very many.

As I got down on the floor I could really tell how out of shape I was. As i started to lower my chest towards the ground, I instantly felt a burning sensation in my arms. I didn't lower myself very far for fear I wouldn't be able to get back up! After just three push ups I was ready to quit. I lay on the floor ready to accept my defeat when I heard that voice in my head telling me to get back up... At least no one was watching this time. How in the hell did I do this every day in high school? Oh yeah... I think I remember pushing my feet against the back wall of the gym....

I did three more and took another brief break. I couldn't believe how bad my arms hurt after just 6 (pathetic) push ups. Four more and we'll do the crunches.

I flipped over onto my back and took a deep breath. This won't be so bad, I thought. Oh, guess again. After just one crunch I swear I felt a rib break. Bodies weren't supposed to bend like this. My back hurt, my abs hurt, and I was trying to remember how to breathe. I read once in an exercise book that you are supposed to breathe out as you sit up. It's really hard to remember that when all you can think is "God this hurts, ouch, oh, God I'm going to be feeling this in the morning. Dammit I should have started out doing only five!"

But I DID IT.

And I have to do it again today. And tomorrow. And all of the days that come after that.
Somebody hold me accountable...