A Small Fish in an Ocean of Blogs

It's silly I know, but my little blog really means a lot to me. What started out as a hobby and fun way to keep friends and family updated on my life, has become an accomplishment of sorts that I am actually proud of.

I started blogging just over a year ago. My very first post was called "The world is your oyster", a brutally honest raw exposure of myself. I didn't have a name or an identity to my blog then, and truthfully I had no idea what I was doing, I just knew I wanted to write.

A large part of my inspiration for going back to college was this blog. I knew I had ideas and stories I wanted to share, but I also knew from a technical standpoint my writing left a lot to be desired. So last summer, I walked into the Salt Lake Community College, 2 weeks before classes were scheduled to start, and enrolled. Again, I had no idea what I was doing. No game plan. I just knew it was where I needed to be.

Sitting here reflecting, feet propped up on a chair - laptop warm in my lap, it's fun to think of some of the highlights my silly little blog has brought me.

- I remember the first time I got a comment from a blogger I, for lack of a better work, idolized. People like Caveat Emptor, Black Hockey Jesus and the amazing Jenny the Bloggess. It may seem silly, but it totally made my day to think that something, however small and trivial, in my blog sparked their interest enough to visit AND leave a comment.

- I remember coming up with the name for my blog and asking my friend and blogging mentor Sarah what she thought of it. "Honestly I think it's fucking brilliant and wish I would have come up with it." A better compliment has never existed. She helped me register the domain name and set things up.

- I remember getting approved to have ads on my blog through the BlogHer network. It only took 6 months of having them, but I got my first check too. I celebrated by going to coffee with Sarah just this last weekend.

- As it turns out the whole being a student and a blogger really worked out in my favor recently too. I am headed to the BlogHer convention in Chicago in a little over 3 weeks. Truthfully there is no way I could have afforded it without the discounted student rate and I am so happy they offer one. I'll try not to cuss when I pay next months tuition now.

- Last but certainly not least (cliche much?), the highlight of my evening. Getting mentioned on the "Here is the good news happening around our GiST network" email for finally getting the balls to get the tattoo I have been talking about for over 2 years. Seriously, how cool is that?

I know I am rambling on a bit and a lot of these things may not seem like a big deal, but I am a firm believer it's the little things in life that count and you should celebrate ALL victories.

Thanks lovely Internet for giving me more reasons to celebrate! Oh, and the local wine store says thanks too.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

A Womans Logic is Never Wrong

Sometimes dating a man who does professional fitness for a living is a real pain. He goes around using "technical terms" and "facts" and completely ignores a little thing I like to call logic.

Me: "So I ate 6 cookies before coming to the gym tonight."

ED: "Six cookies! Why?"

Me: "Because I needed a snack and I knew that our work out tonight would cancel them out. That's how it works. I'm surprised you didn't know that. Plus I had milk, which is healthy, so, you know, that helps too."

ED: "Sweetheart, that is not exactly how it works."

Me: "Um, yeah it is."

***

Yesterday my amazing friends Sarah and Susan responded to my plea for relief from the bondage of homework. We met up at the Utah Arts Festival and even though they chose not to share the dress code with me (bitches) it was exactly the break I needed.

And wouldn't you know, they share the same brilliant logic as me!

We figured the calories from the wine, beer, pizza, hot dogs, ice cream and fries we collectively consumed all didn't count. You see, when you are at an outdoor festival or event nothing counts because they are so few and far between that it's practically a crime NOT to take full advantage. Plus we were out in the hot sun sweating out any pesky calories that may have gotten into our food. Also, should there have been any calories, we were totally covered because we all pretty much skipped breakfast but still managed to do individual morning workouts.

So, yeah, a day of no calorie guilt with my girls! How sweet is that?

Oh and the best part is, as an added bonus for me, Sarah and Susan both agreed that the fact I worked out on a Saturday night counts as double calorie canceling points. So in reality, I'm like way ahead in this whole calorie canceling game and can eat 6 more cookies today!

Psshh! Fitness coach my ass. I should write a book on this stuff.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Grace In Small Things

I've been pretty bad about posting this week. My excuse? I'm doing some revamping of Blogfully Yours. Still the same site, with all of my crazy stories and random ramblings, but with a new semi-professional "glow" to it. I've been told that I can not rush this process if I want it to be done right, so I'm practicing that little skill known as patience. I'm also doing my research so I don't end up crashing and loosing the past years worth of posts.

Woosah.

So to put things in perspective (whilst I practice my patience), here is an installment of Grace in Small Things:

1. People who are smarter than I and willing to share their know how with me.

2. Having an open discussion with my boss.

3. Taking part in promoting National HIV Testing Day.

4. Sore muscles (it let's me know I did something to them).

5. Setting up my first 401K plan.


Blogfully yours,

Summer

Deal with stomp-stomp creek-creek or lift heavy objects

I've lived at my current apartment for just under 2 years, which is a record for me. I normally move every 6 months to a year. My lease is up the end of August and I must give 60 days notice if I want to move, which means I have just under a week to figure out if I want to stay put or move out.

For the most part, I have really enjoyed my little place. That is, until the past 2 months when the new upstairs neighbors from hell moved in! Now, I've lived in apartments for the greater part of my adult life so I am accepting of a lot of things, but these neighbors are ridiculous! The are night owls who like to start pacing above my bed at exactly the time I am trying to go to sleep. I know you are going to think I am just being dramatic, but I swear they wear lead boots too. They also play a game every night where they open and shut every drawer and cupboard in their place then go out on the balcony 3 or 4 times slamming the door on their way. I'm sure it's a lot of fun for them but all I hear is stomp-creek, slam, slide, creek, creek, stomp, stomp and occasionally the err err, err err of their bed while they are doing the nasty.

The worst part is, there is absolutely nothing I can do about it... except move.

But I don't want to move! What with all the packing and lifting of heavy furniture. Ugh! I've moved 5 times in the last 4 years and none of the times has been what I consider fun.

So what's a girl to do?

I spoke with the leasing office and they said I could upgrade to a newly remodeled top level apartment for basically the same price as I am paying now (guess the economy has been hard on them too).

But moving... again? Blah!

So now it's crunch time. Deal with annoying neighbors for another year or move. Somehow I don't feel like there is a right answer here.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

PS - anyone have a truck?

Every Tattoo Has a Story - Part II

So I did it... After 2 years of talking about it, I actually did it and let me tell you, I forgot how freaking bad getting tattooed hurts! Call me a wuss if you must, but sitting still while someone continuously jams a needle into your back is draining!
I'd like to thank the talented Mitch Anderson of Mutiny Ink for being the one to continuously jam that needle.

Before Picture

Step One: Sketching for placement

Step Two: Drilling The Outline. The most painful part in my opinion.

Step Three: Coloring. I guess the technical term is "shading", but whatev.

Finally, after 2 hours and 15 minutes of resisting the urge to either scream or punch Mitch in the junk, we have the final product (notice Mitch in the background smiling? I swear it is not because I was showing him my boobs! He is probably just happy about the whole not getting punched in the junk part)!

I can't tell you how happy I am with the results! I'm in a shit load of pain right now, but I can't stop staring at it. ED told me he thinks it looks very sexy and to be honest, it makes me feel sexy too.
Right now the challenge is finding clothes to wear. Because of the size and location it makes wearing a bra all but impossible, but going without one is not exactly an option so I'm going to have to suck it up and find a way to make it work.

Pain is beauty, right?

Blogfully yours,

Summer

PS - While the parents were a little... um... shocked? at Fathers Day dinner, they did not react too bad. My mothers only question, "did you have to get it so big?".

Every Tattoo Has a Story - Part I

In the Spring of 2007 I freed myself of a very toxic relationship. I moved in with my parents for a short time to work on getting back on my feet - emotionally and financially. One night, my father and I went for a walk along the Jordan Parkway, a walking/biking trail that runs along the Jordan River. As we were walking along the path it's really quite ugly. The plant life surrounding the trail has not yet woken up from its winter slumber. The river is a murky shade of brown and the dead reeds made the scenery down right depressing. We walked for several miles. Despite the scenery, it felt very cleansing. Then, out of no where one branch of a tree, not more than 4 feet tall shot out of the ground among the ugliness. The branch had green leaves and pink cherry blossom flowers growing all the way up it. I stopped my Father and walked through the mud to it, grabbed out my phone and took a picture. When I got back on the designated walking trail I looked at my Dad and said, "I just found my next tattoo."

When we got home I started researching the meaning behind cherry blossoms and found there are different meanings from China and Japan:

Chinese Cherry Blossom

For the Chinese the cherry blossom is a very significant symbol of power. Typically it represent a feminine beauty and sexuality and often holds an idea of power or feminine dominance. Within the language of herbs and herbal lore of the Chinese the cherry blossom is often the symbol of love.

Japanese Cherry Blossom

For the Japanese the cherry blossom holds very different meaning. The cherry blossom is a very delicate flower that blooms for a very short time. For the Japanese this represents the transience of life. This concept ties in very deeply with the fundamental teachings of Buddhism that state all life is suffering and transitory. The Japanese have long held strong to the Buddhist belief of the transitory nature of life and it is very noble to not get too attached to a particular outcome or not become emotional because it will all pass in time.

The fallen cherry blossom is not taken lightly in Japanese symbolism either. It often represents the beauty of snow and there are many connections made in Japanese literature or poetry to a fallen cherry blossom and snow. This also has been extended to the life of a warrior whose life was ended early in battle.

**

I am taking bits and pieces from both meaning. For me, it serves as a reminder of the strength it took to get out of a toxic situation, is serves as a symbol of femininity, it serves as a sign of a new beginning and it serves as my belief in finding true love.

I still have the picture I took on my phone that day, although it is save on a disk that I left in my office so I will add it to this post later. But this picture is fairly close to what I will be getting today (4PM MST), but without the Chinese writing.
Wish me luck! Follow up pictures to come!

Blogfully yours,

Summer

UPDATE: I found the original picture I took while on a walk with my Dad.

I Can’t Believe She Actually Hit Me!

Yesterday was much like any other day. I got off work and headed to school. I pulled into a parking spot near the back of the lot, parked and began my ritual of putting on a fresh coat of lipstick and powdering my nose. I was lost in my own thoughts while looking at my reflection when I was rudely jolted into consciousness by another car pulling in and hitting the front of my car! I snapped the visor mirror shut and stared at the driver who was now backing up a few inches so that she was no longer on top of my car. The driver did not meet my jaw dropped, appalled gaze. No courtesy wave. No mouthing of "oops" or "sorry". No getting out to make sure my bumper was still attached. No, this reckless SUV driving student did nothing. I kept on staring at her, in shock of this woman's ignorance and lack of common courtesy manners. Surely at any minute she was going to get out of her car and apologize. I had no idea what I should do. Do I walk over, pound on her door and demand an apology? Do I try to out wait her (at this point she is busy continuing to act like she is oblivious to me and collecting her things) and confront her then?

In the end I did nothing. I’m not a confrontational person and I was on my way to take a math test so, I did nothing. Seriously, what does one do in this situation? No damage was done to either of our cars. Really it was only a parking nudge, but it’s the principle of this person having the audacity to completely ignore the fact that she hit me. It irks me! It also irks me that I don’t know if I should have responded or not.

What would you have done?

Blogfully yours,

Summer