In Which I Depress Myself or Squick Myself Out on Purpose

For some reason, I am attracted to articles/stories/news that are either crushingly sad/depressing or so horrifying/gross that I've been scarred after reading or seeing them. I'm a very visual person, so just reading something that is graphically described will just play on an endless loop in my head.

I guess I wouldn't say I'm attracted -- more like plain stupid. Repeatedly.

I can talk about this now (because I am no longer scarred--OK, fine, I'm no longer having nightmares about it) but my most recent example of this stupidity involves an article on The Awl a month or so ago about cannibal fetishists, or basically people who want to be eaten and find that exciting even though the end result is being dead. I know. I am an asshole for even clicking on the link to read it. But since The Awl tends to be snarky fun and I had the idea that it was just about communities of people who talked on discussion boards about it (and that was also covered in the article), I started reading. And then the article started talking about a dude WHO WAS ACTUALLY EATEN, and that there were VIDEO RECORDINGS of how it happened that they would then GO THROUGH IN GRAPHIC DETAIL.

YES I HAVE TO USE ALL CAPS DID YOU JUST READ WHAT I WROTE?

So guess who didn't stop reading? Yeah. I can't even link to the article because I don't want to subject someone else to it.

It was like I was driving and couldn't stop in time to keep from running over a squirrel. I just could not stop reading. And then picturing it. And then freaking out to the point where I actually broke out in a cold sweat. Who does that to themselves?

I was traumatized. I tried talking to my husband about it later that night because nothing makes you feel better about something awful than forcing other people to experience it. I still had crazy dreams about it that night and for a few nights after, and then for weeks I'd be driving or running or whatever and into my head would pop SOME DUDE TRIED TO EAT HIS OWN JUNK. Why God why??

So I share this story of my epic dumbassery as a public service: Don't be me. That's good advice on many levels, but particularly in this case. I can't even get into why I always end up reading stories about spouses and children dying, end up tears, and then internally yell at myself for putting those vibes into the universe. I think the cannibal article is my swan song of Fucked Up Shit I End Up Reading.

It's puppy dogs and ice cream from here on out.

Awesome Summer Plan - Oh it's ON!

I'm Type A. I like to plan. Hence the 50 million plans I have going on at all times, some of which were listed in my last post.

I mentioned an Awesome Summer Plan last week. After having an awesome weekend, I figured hey, let's make this weekend the model for our summer.

Elements of the Awesome Summer Plan:

Stay home more. Considering how much havoc traveling for work and family wreaked on my life this spring, I want to stay home as much as possible this summer. Being home means long evenings playing in the backyard, beers on the deck, home cooked meals, and low pressure.

Local entertainment. We hit the local farmers market this weekend, scored some great produce and grass-fed beef, then we went home and ate it. It was yummy. We plan to lather, rinse, repeat. I like the philosophy of eating local, reinforced by my current book, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver. We're embracing local restaurants, venues, attractions. Why waste all of that gas schlepping around, anyway?

Get over my fear/hatred of hot weather and its fashion. I hate being hot. HATE. I'm usually a mess during the summer because I have so many hangups about my body that I practically wear fall-ish clothes all year (pants/cardigans/light sweaters), with the occasional short-sleeved shirt thrown in. This year I'm done with that crap. I've already worn my first dress of the season (gasp!) and I plan to wear short sleeves, skirts, dresses, and whatever other warm-weather staples will make me more comfortable. Maybe even shorts! Look at me, brave girl! People will just have to get over my flabby pale self. I'm finally starting to.

Stop whining and do something about fitness. My personal local food movement doesn't really include my good pals Ben & Jerry, so I'm OK on the food front. Now, to fitness. I've joined and quit a gym, taken classes, tried just walking around the neighborhood, blah blah. Nothing sticks. The only thing I have ever been able to do with some regularity is hit the treadmill. Yes, it can be dreadfully boring, but I always do it. I need one for my house so I can stop bitching about not having time to hit the gym. I'm buying one as a birthday present to myself. I've managed to lose 65 pounds in 2 years -- it's really time to get the rest of this weight off. Plus I need an excuse to compose more random mixes on iTunes.

So there's the plan. I'm ready and excited. No pressure, just time with my guys, my house, and my 'hood. Pale legs be damned.

More Plans

I'm just plugging along, getting projects done -- both professional and personal.

Up next in the personal projects? Another book (possibly The Thirteenth Tale, it seems like a fun spooky read) and some sort of Physical Activity plan. I've got figure out something to do with myself to spur the rest of my weight loss. I'm trying not to obsess about the weight like usual, yet still stay motivated. It's difficult.

My son has already embraced his physical activity: Little Gym classes this summer. He'll be a Beast. And I'll try not to lunge at the first kid who knocks him over during class. Hey, I have restraint! Sort of.

As for the rest of the plans:

The Get More Sleep plan started out strong this week and has faltered a bit, but I'm getting back to it tonight. The Cook More at Home plan included a family meal last night courtesy of my husband, and I made homemade chicken stock. I feel so Ina Garten!

Now I need an Awesome Summer plan. We'll see how that goes; I may need to implement a Don't Blind People with Your Paleness plan first.

Hit the Books

After whining my way through my last entry about gaining balance, I decided I need to pull an Oprah-style makeover of my daily life. If only I had Nate and Peter and the other experts to just come over and do it all for me ...

In the past, the first step of any makeover would have been weight loss; this time, I'm taking a new direction. I'm going to get back to reading. When I traveled a lot in my former job, I was a reading fiend and blew through stacks of books. My latest travel schedule inspired me to get back to it, and hopefully continue when my travel slows a bit.

I mentioned before that I read God Save the Fan and Eat, Pray, Love. I also recently finished When You Are Engulfed in Flames by David Sedaris, Company by Max Barry and Love is a Mix Tape by Rob Sheffield.

I enjoyed them all, and now you can see how seriously behind I am in my reading stack: the Sheffield book is two years old. At least the Sedaris is new.

It feels good, as a former English major, to be reading again. Reading is absolutely helping my writing -- I write A LOT for my job and things finally seem to be falling into place after a bout of writer's block. It's probably no coincidence that I started this blog when I started reading again.

So yay, reading. Especially now that I'm reading something more challenging than Sandra Boynton board books. Although I do like the twist ending of But Not the Hippopotamus.

At Least it Wasn't Woody Paige.

I'm reading Will Leitch's God Save the Fan and really liking it. Will is the founder of Deadspin, one of my favorite sports blogs. The book is perfect business trip reading: funny, interesting, and most importantly for my ADD tendencies, written in easily-digestible essays so I can flit in and out of the book as needed.

But his book took me to an uncomfortable place. A place I had tried to ignore for a long time.

In a few of his essays he mentions crusty old-school sportswriters and how they've brought themselves over to a variety of ESPN's shows, most notably Around the Horn. Leitch can't stand AtH and talks about how many of the panelists went from engaging (or at least half-interesting) in print to scripted, screaming banshees on TV.

I used to watch Around the Horn almost every evening - my husband likes the show and again, it had that great ADD-friendly format. The point-keeping, yelling, and Tony Reali were tangential to the whole point for me: finding out, in a nutshell, what's up with sports for the day. At some point, we stopped watching because now my son is obsessed with Yo Gabba Gabba! and now that's the way we roll with our evening programming.

So anyway I'm reading this book and something popped into my head that I had kind of forgotten - but was no less embarrassed to remember. When we used to watch AtH, I kind of sort of had a tiny crush on Tim Cowlishaw.

I KNOW.

But he was so rumpled, and he had the salt and pepper hair thing going, and he wasn't as loud as the others, and he kind of looked like your friend's rumpled and kind of cute Dad. I couldn't help it. So I'd watch AtH and while other women my age were probably liking that little slice of intern Tony R., or that nice boy J.A. Adande, I was thinking that Tim was cute. Yeah, I'm not proud of it.

But hey, in order to make myself feel better, I read the title of this post. Repeatedly.