What happens when you watch too many Olympic events

Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Here's my problem (there are many)... I get inspired too dang easily. 

Two minutes on Pinterest, and I want to magically transform into Martha Stewart and craft myself into oblivion (or onto my own TV show). Thirty seconds of walking around Whole Foods, I instantly want to become a raving health nut... someone who buys flaxseed by the pound and actually enjoys coconut water. (This usually lasts until I see a Braum's, or I attempt a healthy recipe and fail miserably.)

So you can imagine what the Olympics does to easily motivated chaps like me.

Normally the only five golden rings I care about can be found at my local Krispy Kreme... but all weekend long, Grahm and I sat in front of our tiny television, completely riveted by all the athletic events. These people are beasts (except for the gymnasts, I'd be at eye level with most of those scantily clad men). What they can do with their bodies is unreal.

I found myself caring WAY too much about every single sport. Gymnastics? Volleyball? LOCHTE? Yes, yes, and oh my yes! In my head, I was scolding my parents for taking me out of gymnastics to put me in basketball (I'm 5'1''.). Think of what could have been! (Ha.)

While watching all of the amazing bodies bounce to and fro (knuckle-deep in McDonald's fries), I couldn't help but get ridiculously inspired. And, of course, I made some lofty goal:

I'm going to run my third marathon, November 11. (I’m telling you, so I’ll actually do it.)

After my first run yesterday, I know it’s not going to be easy. Turns out making a jamming playlist (featuring "Piece of Me" by Britney and "Stronger" by Kelly) and buying cute athletic wear is way more fun than actually running... especially in this Texas heat. 

Chugging water is also kind of terrible. I might as well superglue my buns to the toilet... my poor pea-sized bladder.

I'm excited. I've wanted to start training for a while; I just needed the right motivation. Turns out, imagining what my rump would like in volleyball shorts was just what I needed!

Who knows, maybe next week I'll be inspired to be the world's best couch potato… but for now, just call me crazy and Olympic obssessed.

Most Embarrassing Day

Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Most embarrassing day? That’s like trying to find a particular varicose vein on your granny's thigh. There are just so many.

I’m sure you’ve all read about my getting stuck in a baby-swing escapade. That was glorious. Or how I’m mortified pretty much every time I encounter the stove like here or there. Pretty much every day with me is filled with some kind of embarrassment of myself or the planet. My hair is blonde for a reason, I guess.

If I had to choose, I think my most embarrassing day HAS to be a particular day in college. Bear in mind, I’m a junior. In college. Like 21-years-old. Okay there, I've set the stage for you.

I was with a bunch of friends at some terrible restaurant on campus. My friend, Katie, was telling us all about her upcoming summer plans about living in Seattle. The conversation went something like this…
             Katie: “Yeah I think I’m going to love it in Seattle. We have exciting things planned!”
             The group: “Oh how fun! What kind of things?”
             Katie: “Well I definitely want to drive up to Alaska at some point.”
             Jena: “HAHAHAHA. Good one!”
             Katie: “What? I’m serious. I really want to.”
             Jena (totally deadpan): “Katie, you can’t drive to Alaska. It’s an ISLAND. Duh.”
             The group: Silence followed by outrageous bursts of laughter and pointing at me.
Katie: "Are you serious?? You thought it was an island? BAHAHAHA."

That’s right, folks. Until my 21st year of life, I thought Alaska (like Hawaii) was an island. Good lord, my life is sad. Bet my parents are glad they paid for that private school education now. My rationale behind this gross geographical error was due to every map of America. Like this one:

See? Alaska appears to be surrounded by water, like HAWAII?! I just failed to notice how straight the right side of the state is…

Moral of the story: Grahm never lets me navigate, and America needs new maps. People are getting lied to EVERY DAY. 

Link up with Sarah today!

Six-Word Memoir

Monday, July 2, 2012

Six words are not a lot.

Usually my six-word phrases consist of "Can I have the credit card?" or "Can you super size that, please?" and Grahm's personal favorite, "You're really going to wear that?"

When I started thinking about summing up my life in a mere six words, I was surprised at how challenging it was. Words like "McDonald's fries," "cookie dough by the pound," or "I have this really weird thing were I like to pluck people's eyebrows" came to mind. I figured though, this was meant to be a little more serious than a laundry list of junk food currently clogging up the cellulite pipes in my backside, or my weird desire to rip hair out of someone's face (strangely gratifying).

This is what I came up with: Seeker of acceptance, stories, and laughter

I think, in a way, all of us are searching for acceptance in some way. I'm not exactly the first. We all want to feel normal. Understood. Valued. I've definitely found this to be true in my own life; I'm constantly seeking acceptance from those around me like a lost puppy, "Pleaaaase loooovee me!" Every day I'm incredibly thankful that I married a man who, for some strange reason, accepts me just the way I am.

Stories are something that I'm always pondering. It's a weird way of viewing life. Either I'm reading a story, completely enraptured in its world... or I'm creating stories in my head. I think it's part of the quirkiness of writers. We're always staring into a stranger's face, creating their past, passions, and current pursuits... or we're scribbling down some stroke of brilliance or observation we've just had that we want to remember for a character.

And if you know me at all, I love to laugh. Really, I think it's God's greatest gift to human life (besides grace and Ryan Gosling). Laughing just makes everything better. Grahm often tells me I laugh in my sleep. I really like to be around people who can make me chuckle, and I try (entirely too hard) to make everyone around me laugh.

I think the great thing about these six-word memoirs is that they'll constantly be changing depending on your stage of life. It'll be interesting to do this again in a few years. Who knows? Maybe by then I'll have found some acceptance in the writing world by publishing a story that made someone laugh.

What are your six words? Link up with Sarah, here!