A week its been!

It really is sad. This is the most pathetic attempt at a blog that I've ever seen. Granted I haven't seen many blogs. But still, this is not what I had in mind for a daily discipline. I suck.
It seems that I have divided my "life change" and/or weight loss challenge into two seperate battles. And it seems that I feel unless I have both conquered, at the same time, that my goal will be reached. But if one falls to the way side, then the other must as well...because they go hand in hand. WELL...this is false. My two sides are 1. eating healthy and in moderation, and 2. regular excersize. While I do believe that these are both very important to a healthy life, it certainly is wrong to think I need one to accomplish the other. In fact, it's probably one of the main reasons I never conquer either!
Last week I started running with Jeff. He has been running for years and has a lot of really good information to help an amateur runner learn the ropes. He teaches me how to run properly, slowly and consistantly, and he also has all that biological (not sure if this is the right word??) information that keeps you from hurting for days on end after. I went for my first run (although greatly intimidated by his jedi running status) and found that I really enjoyed it! I didn't feel exhausted, I didn't hurt, and I felt ready to do it again the next day.
BUT, God gave me two left feet and an uncanny ability to hurt myself in any situation. So the next day while hiking down a very large mountain (to see this spectacular castle, but this is another story) I twisted my foot under itself and reinjured a fracture I acquired a year and a half ago. Yay for me.
So running was out for a little while.
AND this is where a normal person would say, ok since I can't excersize, I must eat more carefully and find other ways to kill the calories. But not I...no...not I. Instead in my head I hear, oh well you cant really tackle this problem until you can excersize anyway. So it's ok to have a little cheese after dinner, or an extra piece of icecream cake. ARGH! My brain is my enemy!
Ok, so this is a step. I'll acknowledge this. I'm admitting I have a problem. There is a bizarre barricade in my head that fights all will power to tackle this goal. I don't get it. Blah, I guess losing weight is more than just a physical fight, it's a whole Middle Earth meets the Death Star mental battle.
May the force be with me.

The lonely majority

AND SO....it's been a while. I've been here, there, everywhere. But still I haven't found myself with many thoughts on, well, anything. It's a poor exscuse to ignore something I planned on commiting myself to, but I can at least say I warned you. It may take time but I WILL get to the point where I have a daily commitment to this. Not that it's important to document each and every day of my menial life, but rather for the discipline of it all.
I often feel like I should have some sort of theme, or basic idea to this whole blog thing. But I can never seem to chose what would be interesting enough for me to write daily about. I guess this is, again, why I'm searching for a place and an interest to give me inspiration. I have many ideas, but of course, they change as often as my hairstyle.
So for now I will talk about one of my short term goal I have decided to take on while continuing here in France. In fact, it really isn't a short term goal, or at least it shouldn't be. It should be a complete life change. But I've made a short term goal of losing at least 10 lbs while here for the next month. What a perfect time in my life, unlimited free time, good solid meals everyday, and a crazy running coach that will make me run til I drop.
Losing weight has always been a struggle for me. Or should I just say my weight in general? It's sad really, I wasn't always overweight. But I always THOUGHT I was. And now here I am, getting to a place in my life where it's only going to get harder, and I'm not healthy. I don't care if I'm ever a Cindy Crawford, but I want to be healthy. And I must say, I would kill to know what it's like to be able to wear ANYTHING I want. So now I'm standing in the front lines again my biggest battle that I have fought for all my life.
More than the ability to lose weight is a chance for me to tackle a mental barrier I've had for far too long. It's going to take determination, patience, and a lot of will power. Especially when I head back to the good ol' USA. It's not easy to make healthy eating choice in our society.
Also, I want to know and always understand that my weight is not a measure of my worth. Being heavy often makes me feel like a social outcast, that I'm not allowed to enjoy the same things as others or that I deserve them even. It's pure crap from Satan, but I feel it none the less. And this is something that has to be nipped in the bud. I never want to see my little cousins or my dear sweet Lucie thinking that all of their worth is in the reflection they see.
It's easy to get caught up in the attention and the desires of the beautiful people, but I know now, better than ever, that I don't want friends that will only love me because I make them look good. Same for my future partner. I'm grateful I've had the opportunity to know and weed through the people worth keeping in my life.
So here you have it. The begining of an end. I may not have all of the determination of Napolian, but here is a small chance for me to document, share, and review all of the good and bad days of a major battle.
So for now, this is the Diary of the "Curvy" woman; those who make up the most of this world, yet always feel alone.

The great fall

Well...I know I haven't been keeping my promise to myself to write each day in this blog. But I have to say that I definitely have my reasons. I can't say I'm dissapointed though, I'm proud that I haven't spent all my time here in front of a computer screen.
Every time I think I finally understand the meaning of the say When it Rains, it Pours, I experience a further depth in it. I DO not understand, one bit, why this year has occured at all. I'm past the point of understand, the point of trying, and the point of FEELING anything. All that has happened is pain, suffering, and loss for myself and those all around me. Maybe I picked up a bad vodo in Mexico and brought it back with me.
I know that in everything we are supposed to be grateful to God; that we are supposed to take it as an opportunity to learn more about life. And maybe this is what eventually will happen, but as of now...I'm fed up. I pray so hard, almost to the point of tears, that nothing more will happen. I want a boring life in all senses of the word for a while. Let us recover from all of this!
Right now I'm sitting in Rodez, waiting for news on whether or not my dear French family is now homeless. Yesterday, the house was being renovated (the large part where no one lives yet) and the interior foundation came tumbling down. OK more like thundering down. It was a lot of rock gravity took out. And at that time Lucie and I were trying to take a little nap in the little house that was built adjoined to the large portion. Next thing we knew, men were running in the house telling us to get out as they thought the whole house would collapse.
The house hasn't collapsed yet, but basically everything this family has is in that house. And yes, it is just stuff, but the day before my poor family took a large blow of dissapointment that already had broken their hearts. Now their home, also, is gone. We will know soon if the house will be fixable at all. There is a very large crane holding up the house for now, and next week we should know the extent of the problem. But either way, it is a great loss for anyone to bear.
I begin to wonder what it is God wants us to take from EVERYTHING we've been through this year. I know that he wants me to rely on him despite everything, and maybe this is his way of showing me that I can live without so many things in my life. I'm not sure. But I don't remember the last time I felt so numb to the world. I really don't feel a single thing. Nothing. Not happiness, sadness, contentment, fear....I feel NOTHING. So if there is something he wants me to see, well I hope he can make it as obvious as possible. Because I'm more blind than anything at this point.
But maybe that is the point.

'A Room With A View'

I consider this to be a great time of discovery for me. Not the same as before but not much different. Last time I took the grand leap to come to France it was out of a desire to see, to learn, and to explore. What I did not anticipate was the great canyon of change I was going to face. Little by little, day by day, through every experience I learned valuable lessons that have stayed with me through every moment since. But there has been a time when I forgot many of the most important lessons of all; the ones I found within myself.
This trip to France has been much different. I came with different intentions, a very opposite frame of mind, and a broken heart. And for all those who can account to what this is like, it means viewing the world through different eyes. Although I want to try and make some effort, this trip is not about seeing the country, exploring new places. It's about being in a safe place with much time to think and reflect. Without the distractions I find at home.
So what better a way to become inward and pensive than to read! To take book and fall into the world the writter describes is an experience all in it's own. And maybe you'll think, what a shame! She is in the beautiful country side of southern France and she is reading! But what better a way to see one inward than to be surrounded by beauty, inside and out? To feel and smell, see and hear ALL that is real and then to let your imagination take over your thoughts.
In this frame of mind, I decided to go to the library in Mazéres to take a few books. Of course, I can hardly read French so I had to find what few books in english they had. Because they only have a small selection, it is made of mostly classic books, a few sci-fi novel, and many books of travel. So I decided to try my hand at a book called 'A Room With A View' by E.M. Forster.
I've heard of this book many times but I had no idea what it was about. It didn't take me long to fall in love with the witty quibble of the author and his obvious distaste for anything of the society at the time. Very much like my own personality, he shows a distinct rebellion against the world in which he lived in. He glorified people with deeper thoughts and whom were considered outcasts of society and painted people with proper mannerisms and social graces to be shallow and unfit. But most of all, I found it humerous how he described his heroine Lucy Honeychurch.
This is one of the greatest coming of age stories I have ever read. Lucy is a young girl, of great moral character who is trying to find her way in the world she was told was right, but often felt was wrong. She is kind in disposition and quick to love everyone. While taking a tour of Italy she ends up in Florance with her cousin and many fellow travelers in a pensione. She does not know it at the time but she falls in love with a man whom many people in her social circle would deem unfit. So to escape the pecular George Emerson and his wild views of equality and deeper mind she leaves Florence to Rome. Time passes, she returns home, and she becomes engaged to a Mr. Cecil Vyse. A proper, refined man with high social stance. As time passes she begins to lose her beauty and innocence she found within the world and becomes more and more like her cynical and snobbish fiance. The many who praised and upheld Cecil begin to dislike and distrust his obtrusive, rude ways. But Lucy, who is under the spell of what she felt was love, defends him to the end. Soon George Emmerson and his father move to the neighborhood and start in motion many great events which lead to the end of Lucy and Cecils engagment and the beginning of many greater things. Of course I do not want to reveal all that happens, other wise there would be no point in reading it!
I think this book has struck me in ways I haven't felt in much time. I feel to close to Lucy and her "muddled" confusion in life. I envy her in her clarity in the end. I have loved and felt the confusion of being with someone not at all in character with myself. And there lays much of the confusion. Cecil spent most of his time with Lucy trying to mold her and make her into the woman he deemed appropriate. Instead of appreciating the people in the world for the beauty they held as a person, he was dissatisfied and unwilling to accept people as they were. And in the end Lucy saw him as "the sort who can't know anyone intimately".
And after she drops the bomb and ends it all with him, instead of being angry and resentful he begins to see her as she truly was. "But now to Cecil, now that he was about to lose her, she seemed each moment more desirable. He looked at her, instead of through her, for the first time since they were engaged....she had become a living woman, with mysteries and forces of her own, with qualities that even eluded art." And he loved her more. With real and true appreciation.
I begin to think had she not loved George Emmerson, but still had seen the truth about Cecil, would this revelation in him saved them? Would it have been enough to open his eyes to the changes he needed to make to appreciate the woman he loved? To try and enjoy life in a way that was parallel with her, not opposite? And would he still love her once he saw that she was not perfect? When he saw her for what she was? Had Lucy loved Cecil, but just been tired of being picked at, molded, and made to dislike all that she loved, could she look past his begining flaws and hope for better in the future?
Love is a mysterious thing and in the end it's something I can never claim to understand. But as I'm spending this time in great thought and hoping for clarity on what the next turn in my life is, I felt this book was brought to be in perfect time. Most of you can understand how I can relate to this story, but differ in the same. So now it's time for my 'muddled' life to become more clear. It may take time, more thought, and much discipline.
But in the end, I'm not longer alone in my fight within myself.
No, it seems an English, male writter born in 1897 understands my problems more clearly than I can seem them. Touché Mr. Forster.

Old ways, new customs.

There is one thing, that I must say, will probably never change about the French. The way they eat. And, as bold as it may sound, I think no one will ever be able to do this quite as well as they do.
Food to them is more than a basic source of nurishment. It's not a copeing mechinism like many others take to. It's an art. A pure art based on the basic sense of taste and smell comes into play everyday and every meal for the French. It shows a beautiful ability to appreicate something many others overlook and forget within the rush of everyday life.
I know for myself, I often get so preoccupied with just trying to make each day work and live life (plain and simple), I lose the ambience of life that is around us every moment of each day. I forget what it is to feel, to sense, to have excitement...
I think about a movie made for children that came out not too long ago. Rataouille. Such an ingenious movie. A movie made to teach us the purity of enjoying our God given ability to taste and smell. I think on the moment when he takes a few pieces of food and begins to taste them...In the back ground, with each bite, a burst or swirl of color and texture with hints of melodies take over his mind. And this, I think is something we are all capable of. The point is, do we take the time to try and enjoy it?
So next time you are feeling overwhelmed and bored with the mundane of life, I challenge you; go to the market, pick up the stinkiest cheese, the sweestest fruit, the hardest bread, and the boldest wine you can find. And enjoy melody in your mouth for me...

The New Start

I know...Im terrible. It has been three days since I was last able to write in my blog. But I must say it is due to specific reasons.
1. Saturday was my birthday (yay for me). So I spent most of the day and a lot of the night with my family and friends.*
2. Sunday morning I left around 7 to take a plane and head off to the beautiful country of France! So I all of sunday and most of monday traveling.
3. Monday night I was so exhausted with Jet Lag I wouldnt have been able to form complete sentances. Let alone figure out how to type on the French keyboard. It can be such a pain.
But now Im back on track as much as I can be. It is a little difficult as I didn't bring my computer to I have to steal Helene's if I want to do anything. And I feel bad taking it too much.
So I will do my best to write in my blog as often as possible.
It has been wonderful being back in France. I feel as though a part of me that has been dormant was woken back up. And I feel parts of me coming alive again. It's wonderful. I wish I could explain. I have such sharp memories of everthing here. I feel as if I went on a short holiday and was just coming back. I remember every road, every smell, all the people. It is...spectacular.
Now it comes to the point where I must decide what it is I want to accomplish by being here. It's not such a long time, one month, it goes so quickly...so I have to be sure to make the most of every moment here. But I am so glad just to sit and feel again...it's almost enough to just be. But of course I must make the most of the time. Who knows when Ill get to come back again. (sadness)
But maybe the Lord will find a connection here...something that will keep me or bring me back again. Its hard to say. Or maybe it is his will that I take the time that is given and use it to become the person I should be at home. Its hard to say...

8 years to remember

8 years.

8 years ago I felt the first sting of life. My first encounter with loving and losing. It was my 16th birthday, and I was just coming home from going to the local community college to sign up for my running start classes. My mother came down the stairs sobbing and I knew something terrible had happened.

My friend. My heart. The man I was sure I was going to marry...had disappeared. Well, not like he just fell off the face of the planet. But he, his 2 cousins, and their grandfather had taking a little boat out for fishing just off the coast of La Push...their boat capsized and no one knew where they were.

A week later they found 3 of the 4 bodies. Including that of my dear James Starr.

I was much younger than James. But that didn't keep me from hoping. We worked together every Thursday and Friday night, as janitors for my uncle and his father's cleaning company. My first job...
He had always treated me special. Much differently than any of the horrible people I mostly surrounded myself with at the time. He was a breath of fresh air, and one of the kindest people I had ever met. Everything about him glowed with the Lord. There was nothing I could ask that he wouldn't do...even drive me all the way home after work...to Mead....when he lived in the valley past 35th. And when I told him I had feelings for him...instead of making me feel awkward and rejected...he just smiled at me and said..."We'll see..." Or when he told me I was beautiful in German, but made me go find out what it meant. Which took me a week. haha ~Sigh~

There are many stories of how this man captured my heart. But really, what good does it do? That was not the path the Lord had for me. But never will his memory leave my mind. And I will always be grateful for the beautiful legacy he left behind; the many lives that he touched.

And the heart he left behind...