The Great Bear

Today the heavy clouds and brisk temperatures make me feel as though I’m inside of a Thomas Kinkade painting.  Tree leaves are still secured, but they show the tell tale signs of autumn’s approach.

This is a time when I’m supposed to be concerned about politics, national interests and change.  I am interested in change, though it’s much more personal in nature.  I don’t know what the political climate will be in one month, two months time.  I don’t even know what I’ll have for dinner tomorrow.  I do know that I personally have a lot in common with the changing autumn leaves.  When the weather gets cooler they stop producing food, and the chlorophyll inside them breaks down, making their natural colors more visible.  I too feel more like “myself” during this time of year.  I’m less rushed, more creative.  I feel more alert.  And for these reasons I feel more beautiful.  Like the fall leaves.

Native American legend holds that spirit hunters in the sky killed the Great Bear, or what most people know as the Ursa Major constellation.  When the bear’s blood fell from the skies, it dripped down onto the trees, coating the leaves with a crimson hue.  A very vivid, poetic description for the changes we see around us late in the year.

Whether they be political, spiritual or emotional, it’s the only way to move forward.

Worth the Weight…

Current mood: thankful

If you browse through childhood photos of me, you will see a relatively normal kid, albeit a goofy one.  If you’re a little overweight in elementary school, you’re “cute”.  Once you reach middle school, you’re more “chubby”, and then finally it’s high school that labels you “fat”.  Teenagers can be very cruel, but oddly enough, adults can be the worst when it comes to pointing out the obvious.  If you’re overweight, odds are that you know it.

I’ve never been so overweight that it was a health concern, but just enough so that teenage girl’s could snicker or roll their eyes as I shopped for clothes too close to the “normal sized” aisles.  You see, in this great country of ours, size 14 and up is considered plus-sized.  The problem is that it’s all relative.  I am 5′10″ – so I’ve always given myself a little wiggle room there.  It doesn’t help that we are so preoccupied with image that we literally encourage these kinds of obnoxious kids and adults to whisper and point.  (And I thank GOD for every single inch of my height.)

I’ve never hated myself, but I have spent many an hour in front of the mirror being disheartened and depressed.  I would finally find something to wear, just to go to a store and catch a glimpse in another mirror – the dreaded mirror – and flinch at what I saw.  Invariably at this point, I just wanted to go home.

I always promised myself that if I ever lost the weight I wanted to lose, and looked the way I truly felt best, I would never behave like those who had delighted in making me so uncomfortable.  This is just something I know about myself.  I don’t take personal pleasure in watching others cry or avert their eyes.  I guess I’m just not that shallow.  The trick is, as you lose weight, you do gain confidence.  It’s all part and parcel.  But for those of you who have struggled with weight and then lost it – fair warning – it can and often does come back, and it brings friends.  So be mindful of your own karma.

I used to say I could never follow the Slim-Fast plan.  They simply taste too good!  Now a chocolate shake with a meal?  No problem!  But 2 shakes a day instead of 2 meals?  Forget it!  Yet earlier this year, my husband decided he too wanted to lose some weight, so he jumped on the Slim-Fast bandwagon.  I watched as week by week, he got slimmer and slimmer.  (Hence the name, I guess.)  I finally decided that if he could do so well, I should give it a shot too.  So I did.

Since Monday, August 18th I’ve lost 17.5 pounds, an average of almost 3 pounds a week.  Apparently 1 pound a week is ideal, but I am in NO way complaining.  I’ve gone down 2 jean sizes.  I’m more flexible.  I have more endurance.  I literally feel, well, lighter.  I also have more confidence, but mainly because I’m not so concerned about my appearance now.  The other day my husband and I walked through a store and I noticed I wasn’t looking down as people passed by.  I felt confident.  I just didn’t care.

Don’t get me wrong…I’ve still got a good ways to go.  I’ve still got these chipmunk cheeks (cabbage patch head as I call it) and my tummy is still way too pokey…reminiscent of the Pillsbury Dough Boy.  I have another 14 pounds to lose to be at my first super goal.  Then probably another 15 after that.  I’ll see how I feel.  I’m not concerned with the “national standard”, I’m concerned with how I look and feel.  Again, I’m tall and built like a female linebacker.  It’s safe to say that size 8 is probably not in the cards for me.  But I’m totally fine with that.

I want to thank my loved ones for all their support throughout this process.  My husband and parents have been very encouraging, and know when I have to be tough with myself.  My best friends have consistently cheered me on and complimented me – and I know it’s sincere.  I’m no Heidi Klum, let’s face it hehehe….but that’s ok with me.

The bottom line is being happy with yourself at ANY size.  Whether you wear a 2 or a 20, be who you are.  If you’re underweight or overweight, and it’s at an unhealthy level, be proactive about taking good care of yourself.  A woman is not guaranteed happiness because she weighs 100 pounds, anymore than a woman is guaranteed misery at 200 pounds.  (And by the way, you can be overweight and healthy too.  My sister-in-law is tiny in my eyes, yet our family doctor tells her to lose weight.  He’s never once suggested it to me.  The reason is that she had gestational Diabetes with her youngest child.)  Family medical history does play a big role, but just try to be as healthy as you can at whatever size feels best.

As for the Slim-Fast, it really does work. The first day was ROUGH.  I wanted to eat everything in sight.  The second day was not as bad, and by the fourth I felt better about things.  It takes patience.  You aren’t going to lose 10 pounds in a week, unless you ingest nothing but Slim-Fast.  (I wouldn’t recommend that.)  Another thing that has helped is my exercise regimine.  Yeah I know, the dreaded “E-word”.  It’s true though, you simply have to burn more than you consume.  I use our Wii Fit every morning, then ride my bike for 20 minutes every evening.  The one meal I do eat every day is usually a baked potato, or a chicken salad sandwich.  And yes, I eat ice cream probably once a week at least.  This is not about starving yourself, or completely denying yourself.  When you do that,  you end up losing your mind one day and binge on anything you can find.  Then you’re right back to square one.  If you eat something decadent one day, just exercise a few extra minutes the next day.  It’s really not that hard.

Our fridge is full of strawberry, french vanilla, rich chocolate royale and cappucino blast Slim-Fast Optima.  (The Optima, as opposed to the regular variety, has 30 fewer calories and an appetite suppressant.  Nothing jittery or obnoxious though.)  Other than that, you’ll find a stray potato and some Diet Coke.  Our freezer has an assortment of Lean Pockets and Michelina’s Lean Gourmet snacks. (I highly recommend the pepperoni pizza snacks..taste just like pizza rolls!)  We’re saving a lot of money on groceries, so that never hurts.

I will continue to post my photos, and I thank everyone for the kind words.  Once I reach my goal, or rather, the weight I’m comfiest at, I will do my best to maintain that size.  I’m not going to be a Barbie doll and I have no desire to be.  I just want to feel good about myself on the outside.  I’m a pretty decent person on the inside.  Sometimes you just want it to match.

And to my husband, who has now lost 40 pounds, KEEP IT UP!  You gave me the courage to try it myself – I’m proud of you!

Investigate the Black Pt 2

Investigate the Black

(c) J.S.Smith 2008

The first ten minutes of the car ride home were silent.  Jacob was lighting his third cigarette when I pushed the button on my door to lower his window.

“Jesus Jake…that’s not helping.”

He stuck his right arm out the window, wiping his face with his left hand.  “What the fuck was that?  What the hell?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know.  This makes absolutely no sense at all.  None.”

“Fucking acid.”

I rolled my eyes.  “Jake, I have never used acid and I saw the same thing…well..didn’t see, I guess.”

We were quiet again.  I turned the heater on and focused on the gentle hum from the forced air.  How was this possible?

When we got to my townhouse, Jacob fell down onto the living room couch.  He reached for his cigarettes again.

“Don’t even think about it.”

He sighed and tossed the pack onto the coffee table.

“Maybe it was an illusion.  I mean it was getting really dark, so maybe we just couldn’t see the barn.”

I lifted his feet and sat down on the couch.  He stretched his legs out over my lap.

“Then how do you explain being able to see the entire fence, with nothing obstructing it?”

“I don’t know.”

More silence.  Finally he sat up.  “I’m gonna head out.  Stay cool, sweetheart.”  He leaned over and kissed me then stood, grabbed his smokes, and walked out.

That was three years ago.  I’ve been back to the property every single day since.

Some days it’s there for hours.  Some days it’s nowhere to be found.  I’ve studied the land, town history, and visited three city councilmen for information.  Either they know nothing about it, or they refuse to discuss it with me.  A year ago I was taking photos of the fence when a police cruiser pulled up.  The officer told me I was trespassing and demanded I leave.  I explained that there were no signs posted and that I was entirely within my rights.  He looked around, zipped up his coat, then left.

My family has all but disowned me.  They say I’ve become obsessed with this place, this phenomena, yet none of them offers any possible explanation as to why this barn is here one minute, gone then next, then back again.  Eight months ago, my sister paid for me to visit a psychologist.  Dr. Webber listened to me intently, scribbling every so often on his yellow pad of paper.  Finally he leaned back in his tufted leather chair and said, “I guess the important question is, what do you hope to get from all of this?”

I scratched my cheek.  “The barn?”

“No, the therapy.”

I thanked him for his time, then left.

I ended up failing out of college.  I lost the lease on my townhouse, and have been living in an art studio in my aunt’s backyard.  My walls are covered with a collage of photos.  Photos of an empty yard, photos of a black barn.  Sometimes my aunt will come in at night and admire them.  She never says anything, just looks, then pats me on the arm and leaves.

I’ve been asking Jacob to come back with me ever since that first night.  He’s refused ever since.  He never explains why.  Too busy, too much work.  Last night, after trying to get someone else to go with me, I got angry.  I woke up at 4am and drove to the barn alone.  Usually when I visit the barn, it’s midday or late afternoon. I’d never been there at this time of the morning.  When I pulled in, I saw a small fire burning in a pit to the left of the barn.  I got out of my car, then hesitated.  Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. I finally relented and moved forward.  There was no one in sight, though my small Maglight didn’t offer much assistance.

“Hello?”

No answer.  I noticed that one of the barn doors was ajar.  I’d not been able to get back inside the building since the day I found it.  My adrenaline was racing.  I walked to the door, opened it, and stepped inside.

Investigate the Black Part 1

Investigate the Black

(c) J.S.Smith 2008

Something is wrong.  I’m standing here in the middle of an abandoned, seemingly empty building, yet something is wrong.  Very wrong.

I’m trying to recall what led me here.  I remember calling Jacob lastnight, around midnight, and asking him to hang out with me today.  He sighed something about deadlines and a conference call, then swallowed his beer and hung up.  I just sat there, leaning against the wall, listening to the dial tone.  You can’t do that with cell phones.  I like the sound of a dial tone.  There’s a resolution to it.  A finality, and at the same time, a possibility: Now who will you call? I listened to it for a while, until it turned into that unnerving beeping sound, then pressed the reciever button and called my sister.  She wasn’t home.

I’ve been watching the black barn on route 17 for about three years now.  I first noticed it while finishing my junior year at state.  I was looking for Professor Tomlin’s house.  We were supposed to discuss my essay on theoretical physics, and I was already running half an hour late.  The rain was coming down in heavy bursts, and I ended up missing my exit.

An overgrown, gravel driveway appeared on my right.  I pulled in, and that’s when I noticed the barn.  It sat on the very edge of the property, an abnormally tall chain link fence behind it.  There was no house anywhere, just this barn.  I got out of my car, the engine running, and squeaked over to the barn in my faded red rain boots.  I had my Canon EOS DCS 3 in my backpack.  The camera was a gift from my great-uncle Marcus, and it never left my side.  I looked both ways as I approached the front of the barn.  I don’t know exactly who I was looking for.  There were no houses around.  No people.  No cars.  The grass wasn’t even alive, just uneven clumps of chocolate dirt and stray rocks.  I frowned.

The barn doors were heavy but unlocked. I pulled on one with my free hand, and it reluctantly opened.  There was nothing unusual about the inside of the barn.  A few bales of hay and what appeared to be a torn work glove lying near one of them.  I crept inside and immediately noticed that there was no sound.  No rainfall, no wind.  I hadn’t shut the door behind me, yet I could not hear a single atmospheric noise.  It was unnaturally quiet.  And I didn’t like it.

I called Jacob the next night.  He laughed at my discovery.

“Morgan, you’re gonna get your ass shot.”

“I’m..why?  Why would I get shot for going into a barn?”

“Because you don’t know who owns it.  That road is full of fucked up inbreds.  Remember Tommy Spin-”

“Spinnaker, yes Jake.  Good God that was third grade.  You’re still perpetuating that story?”

Jacob exhaled his cigarette smoke.  “I don’t think it’s a story..I think there’s some truth to it.  That kid wasn’t right.  And for all you know, that barn belongs to his family.”

“You’ve been watching Texas Chainsaw Massacre again, haven’t you?  Look, your concerns about my trespassing notwithstanding, I don’t see any danger here.  You’ve got to see this place, Jake.  It’s surreal.  I mean it’s a black barn, for one thing.  Who paints a barn black?”

“Maybe it’s black from the elements.”

“No, no you didn’t let me finish.  When I walked out of the barn, I noticed seven overturned buckets next to the fence in the back.  Black paint.”

“Why in the hell would someone paint a barn that’s not being used?”

“Exactly!  Come on, go out there with me.  I don’t have classes the rest of the week, and I know you have two days off.”

Jacob sighed heavily.  I heard him take another drag.  “Fuck it.  Alright.  I’ll come over tomorrow afternoon, Nancy Drew.”

We got to the barn around 5pm the next day.  Jacob began complaining the moment we pulled into the driveway.  “Shit.  This is not good, Morgan.  It’s getting dark.”

I dismissed him with a wave of my hand and climbed out of my car.  He walked with me toward the barn, pulling on his black trench coat.   We stopped in front of the building, looking up where the roof met the sky.  Jacob absently reached into his pocket and pulled out his cigarettes, lighting one without looking.

“Pretty insane.”

I leaned to the left and noticed that the buckets were still there, though one was missing.

“One of the buckets is gone.”

Jacob looked at me.  “How do you know?”

“Because there were seven.  Now there’s six.” I pointed.

He walked around me and looked, his hands in his pockets, cigarette dangling from his lips.  “Why the fuck did you count the buckets?”

I ignored him and headed back to the barn doors.

“See this is the shit that gets your ass killed.  Digging where you don’t belong.”

“Jake shut up and help me.”

I tried to pull the doors open, but they wouldn’t budge.  Jacob tugged on the handle.  He jerked harder, his cigarette falling out of his mouth.  “Fuck.”

“I don’t get this.  I was just here yesterday and they opened with no problem.”

Jacob picked up his cigarette and dusted off the filter with his fingers.  “I don’t know Morgan. Let’s just go.  This place is weird.  I keep seeing a cat or something in the background, walking around in circles.  It’s weird.”

I sighed and turned toward the car.  It suddenly dawned on me that I hadn’t taken any photos of the barn.  I spun back around, pulling my camera out of my pocket.  It fell to the ground with an audible THUNK.

“Jacob..”

Jacob was leaning against the car, lighting another cigarette.

“What?  Can we..”

He stopped talking.

We were both staring at the back of the property where the barn stood.

Only now, there was no barn.

Be all that you can be…

Whatever the hell that means.

I’m in the process of self-discovery.  Finding out who and what I am, what makes me tick.  It’s a curious adventure.  Some elements of my personality are quite charming.  Others make me cringe.  I don’t know exactly how or why I became who I am today, but I know that I need to be comfortable with that realization.

I’m a flawed, but decent person.  Yeah, I know that sounds like something you say when you want people to pat you on the back and point out all of your endearing qualities.  Yet the truth is that I really am not a bad person.  I’ve just made (make) mistakes.  I don’t think things through.  I can be completely irrational, and downright stubborn most of the time.  I intuit things, feel things out.  Logic has no place in my mind.

I am a person with strong emotional needs. This is a trait that some people love, others reject.  Why am I such a sponge?  I don’t know.  I was born that way, which sounds like an excuse but it’s the truth.

We have no say in who we were, only in who we will become.  Face it.  If you could go back in time, would you rearrange your life, take back things said, or perhaps leave some things unsaid?  Great.  Now try to do it.

I am not interested in continuing to beat myself up for my shortcomings.  I am interested in strengthening the positive qualities I have, and to aspire to be better and more mentally and emotionally developed than I am now.  If this means taking risks, so be it.  Risks are not comfortable and they’re scary as hell, and I find I like that more and more each day.

I have realized that I do not need anyone’s judgment.  We should sit in judgment on ourselves.  You have never walked in my shoes, even for a day.  I’ve not had the pleasure of experiencing your life, either.  So let’s be fair about this and recognize that our lives are just that; ours.  Ours to enhance, ours to weaken.  The choice is, again, ours.

I once wrote a short story about a young girl trapped in an unloving home, surrounded by strangers called family.  She’d stare out the window and wonder “why the glass worked one way…she could see out, but no one could see in.”  I very often feel like this.  I absorb energy, light, dark and everything in between.  I see people, I have experiences.  Yet I feel as though, very often, they cannot see or experience me. The real me.  Maybe they’re afraid to.  In a way, I know I am.

I think this will be an interesting adventure.

Otro Dia Mas…

So I just walked almost 2000 steps on my Wii Fit.  This thing is addictive, despite the fact that my “Mii” avatar grew in size when it first weighed me.  Yeah I could have done without that bonus feature, Nintendo of America.

Yesterday we experienced the remnants of Hurricane Ike.  At this point, he was more of a Depression, and let me say he caused it too…because thanks to the 65+mph winds here in OHIO, our power went out.  I do NOT do well without electricity.  Yeah yeah, I know that my ancestors got by just fine without it.  That’s only because they didn’t know any better.  Trust me…if you’d asked Laura Ingalls Wilder if she would have preferred cooking over a fireplace for 3 hours or nuking a frozen dinner in 3 minutes, I’m thinking she would have chosen the latter and still had time to nurse baby Rose and knock boots with Almanzo.

I just sat there in the dark, watching tree limbs fly past the window.  My husband did fine.  He reads books like a vampire consumes blood.  He can’t get enough of them.  For him, no power = solitude. For me, no power = nervous breakdown.  His reverie was often interrupted due to my incessant bitching and pacing back and forth…him lying on our bed, a book in one hand, book light in another…me cursing the local power company and flipping light switches off and on, “just incase”.

Today the heat, wind and humidity has been replaced with cool, dry air and billowy rain clouds.  Our power has been fully restored, and even I can’t find anything to complain about.  My “Mii” may still be pudgy, but I’m 2000 steps closer to my goal.  What else can you ask for?

Little green-eyed monster…

The jealous bring down the curse they fear upon their own heads. ~Dorothy Dix

Been awhile…

So I’ve no excuse except that I’ve been busy recording, going on investigations, making new and amazing friends, and all sorts of fun stuff.  It’s my blog and I’ll ignore it if I want to.

In recent weeks, I learned that I had yet another psychic vampire in my life.  A person whose only position is to drain all the happiness from you, while keeping it for themselves.  The kind who sighs and bats their eyes and smiles their false grin, just to scan your back for a suitable location to insert their dagger.  This time however, was different.  I was prepared.  This ain’t my first rodeo, folks.

The irony is, just when I’ve removed two thorns from my side (this particular thorn has a counterpart) I’ve replaced them with some INCREDIBLE people.  You guys know you who are….you’ve motivated me, inspired me, and just plain supported me.  I love you.

It takes some of us a long time to realize that none of us are doormats.  You do not deserve to be used or taken advantage of – unless- you take part in these activities.  If you’re a genuine and kind person, I will defend your honor.  If you’re one of the vampires (and I’m not referring to the cool variety) then..well, all bets are off.

Why do selfish people wonder when everyone around them starts to leave them behind?

People make mistakes.  It’s part of life.  I’m more concerned with your intent.  If you intend to cause harm, I have a problem with that.  Have the courage of your convictions. When I find out that you’re talking about me, and I always will, the gloves are off.  And I don’t mean my gloves. It’s your karma.

Shadows

False friends are like our shadow, keeping close to us while we walk in the sunshine, but leaving us the instant we cross into the shade.

~ John Christian Bovee 1820-1904)

Uncertainty

It’s very hard to be insecure.  Worrying about every word, every look, every gesture, every nuance.  It gets tiring and emotionally overwhelming.

I’ve had many relationships, both female and male, that caused me to feel insecure.  The situation seemed unsteady, or perhaps I didn’t fully understand their position.  My unease usually led to more problems.  People tend to like confidence in other people.  They don’t have a whole lot of sympathy for those of us who are worried all of the time, or who assume the worst.  The irony is, I dislike that quality.  I appreciate optimism and confidence in others.  Sometimes it just seems hard to practice what I preach.

Words can move people, can motivate people, can break people…but they can’t do anything without the power we give them.  I can write all day long, but if I’ve no ink in my pen, if I’ve no keys on my keyboard, it doesn’t mean a whole lot.  Sometimes we get caught up in words that mean nothing.  They sound good, sometimes great, but in retrospect we often realize that there was no weight there, no substance to the sound.  How many times have you said something you didn’t mean?  We do it all of the time.  But I’m beginning to see that the best way to be is to have conviction behind all of your words.  Otherwise, why even say them?

I have always been a person who thirsts for kindness and shows of affection.  You would think I’d never been held as a child.  (I was.)  I don’t understand where it comes from, I just know that it has caused me a lot of problems over the years.  People who have selfish motives can utter the sweetest phrase and I am swept away.  I believe them.  Why?  I guess because I want to.  I want to believe that all of the kind things said are intended and sincere.  The bad you can keep, but the good is something I cling to.  Sometimes it bothers me.  It makes me feel very needy.  Not an attractive quality.

I know a man whose wife adores him.  I mean the woman literally lives and breathes for him.  People often say things like that when trying to be dramatic, but in her case it’s the truth.  He has done things for her that no one else ever cared to, and he has helped her become a stronger, healthier, more vibrant person.  This is the kind of man you usually read about…you rarely meet him.  Despite his obvious love, she has quite often found herself feeling emotionally vulnerable and needy when it comes to compliments, shows of affection, of kindness.  Her husband leads a very busy life and quite often has a lot on his mind.  In those moments, when life is hectic and his mind is heavy, she worries that he doesn’t see her as he once did.  That his passion for her has worn away.  It’s not an easy subject to discuss, so she has sometimes behaved in ways that are contrary to her better nature.  The thing is, I know him better than she does.  He loves her completely and fully.  He does everything in his power to be everything he can be for her.  Sometimes it’s not easy for him.  He has his own burdens to bear, in great part for her.  I wish I could explain to her that if she just accepts on faith that someday soon he will feel like himself again, he will feel even better about things because of her understanding.  Her uncertainty is unfounded.

Who knows what makes us feel the way we do sometimes…emotions are strange things.  They can bring out unattractive qualities, selfish qualities.  They can bring out beauty and love and compassion.  I have to work on that myself.  I can’t ask anyone to do it for me.  I have to believe in the good I am shown, and know that great things are unfolding for my family and I.