Biking Meditation

Yesterday I took my bike out for a spin.  My mother recently decided she didn't want her bike rack anymore.  Good news for me--I can now go biking pretty much anywhere I want.

I recently moved into an apartment with my boyfriend where we have luscious green and neighborhoods all around.

Once I started pedaling, I felt an instant rush of excitement and nostalgia; the wind in my hair and the scent of Queen Anne's Lace was just the same as it had been when I was young.

It was as if this path I had taken had been waiting for me all this time to return and explore.

Exercise is a funny thing.  It seems to be a real chore for a lot of people.  Making it a habit and putting aside precious time when you could be working on a project or spending time with family is the hardest part.  But the adrenaline and the feeling that you can do this, that you can achieve anything at all--that's what makes it worth it in the end.

In the last few years I've gained 30 pounds.  I struggle everyday with making the right choices and eating the right food.  I'm "dieting" every week but then mess up by eating a little too much chocolate.  That starts my binge eating all over again because I'm angry at myself.

Exercise isn't so hard for me.  It seems that I take my anger out in my sit ups and squats.  I think, "I'm an idiot for eating those cookies.  Now I'm going to pay for it."  After my work out is over with, I feel a lot better.

When I biked yesterday, I was too preoccupied with taking in the foliage around me to punish myself for screwing up with my eating habits.  I guess it was more of an exercise of the mind, to get those rusty wheels turning again in my mind.  I want to be a writer.  I know I can do this.  I just have to believe in myself, like everyone says.  And practice.

Annie

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Inspiration from houseplants

I know what you're thinking: Why should I be interested in someone else's room?  That's a good question.  A lot happens in someone's bedroom.  It's personal.  This is where I spent a lot of time as a kid.  See those scratches on the floor?  That's from my dog, Abby, who used to follow me everywhere I went.  I used to think of her as my little sister because I had no siblings of my own.  When she got older, she was my older sister, and finally, more like a godmother because I wasn't looking after Abby the puppy anymore; she was looking after me, the teenager.

My desk is where I've done most of my writing and homework over the years.  I've even doodled on the surface with sharpie when I ran into some kind of writer's block.  Which happens a lot.  Writing is something I've been passionate about for a long, long time.  I love reading about other writers, especially Virginia Woolf and Stephen King, but I've never been able to write as much as I've wanted.  Sadly, I'm intimidated by other writers or that I don't have the right vocabulary to truly express what I'm trying to say.

This blog is a way for me to develop my writing skills and to grow and learn from myself and others.  Let's start by taking a closer look at one of my interests: plants.  There's one sitting under that lamp on the brown table.  Here, take a closer look:

 Look at those colors! After Abby passed, I was devastated.  Having a dog is a huge responsibility as we all know.  It was a weird feeling not having anything to take care of anymore.  My parents weren't planning on getting another dog anytime soon, so I went plant crazy.  My dad used to do a lot of landscaping as a career but plants never interested me until I needed something for me to take care of.  I had about twenty houseplants in my room at one point.  Some needed watering every day, some didn't need watering for weeks, some needed partial sun, partial shade, no sun at all, or needed to be somewhere with consistent air flow.  Talk about responsibility!

The thing is, I need to spend as much time writing as I did looking after those plants.  The time is now.

Annie