I'm starting my New Year's Resolution a bit late. Okay, really late. It's August. Regardless, my here-on-out resolution is that I want to branch out. Step out of my comfort zone. I want to try new things. Try old things that have gone by the wayside. I want to try harder at things I've picked up only to forget about it in the back of my closet or in my garage or in a stack of notebooks under my desk. I want to move forward, in other words. But sometimes I literally feel like a running fish. or a caterpillar riding a bicycle. or an elephant pole vaulting. You get the point. The thing is, I want to go beyond what I "can't" do. It's not good enough for me to tell myself that I can't run a mile because I've never literally ran one non-stop and I'm out of shape, or to say I can't write a novel on my own because I don't think my writing is good enough, or to say that I can't have a serious relationship with a guy because I suck at those kind of relationships. No no no no no. I'm sick and tired of that logic because I've been using it all my life.
*queue ethereal flashback music*
As far back as I can remember, I felt huge around my peers. Literally huge. HUGE. huge. I was the girl who by First grade was already a good half a head taller than the average in my class. By time I was in the Fourth grade, I was taller and about twice the weight (not exaggerating) as my teacher. In my defense, she was super petite. But still, I was ten and entering the stage where my classmates noticed this sort of thing. It didn't help my case that I wore clothes that were a good size too big for my already roly-poly body, I hardly ever brushed my hair, and I used this God-awful lavender and something scented shampoo/conditioner that still makes my nose wrinkle when I think about how it made my hair smell. It reeked.
Fourth grade was also the first year we started doing distance running in gym class. The goal was a half-mile that year. By Fifth grade, we were expected to go a mile at the end of the year. I was always the girl who either never finished because we ran out of time or was the last one to finish. I'd try to run, I really would, but then I'd get winded and would stop. It was actually painful.
The other kids would laugh at me as they ran past in a big group, all with their slender limbs propelling them along. I just didn't fit into the mold needed to be a part of the pack. Some years I was fortunate to have a classmate who was also on the heavy side to keep me company, but I was always still taller (and in those days that meant "bigger" as well) and I never finished ahead of anyone. Not once. From Fourth grade through my Sophomore year of high school, the last year I had a gym class that required a mile-run. I always seemed to come up short of doing anything well. I even got in trouble for reading when I wasn't supposed to, but that's another story.
While this all might seem like a really long tangent that needs to nipped off and redirected, it's all quite crucial to how I view myself and the world around me now as an adult. I still get a chuckle out of typing those words "as an adult" in reference to myself. Chuckle chuckle.
Fully grown now, I stand at 6'1" tall barefoot. I started to get a handle on my weight in my late teens- I lost approximately 85 pounds between my Freshmen and Senior years of high school. No small feat (pardon the pun), I will give myself a clap for this. Clap clap. College wasn't that nice to me, however, in the weight department. I managed to keep myself nice and trim my Freshmen year, but the following Summer and on into the Fall of my Sophomore year I gained a good 25 pounds back. Which is where I have remained for the past year.
To continue the positive note, however, I've developed my sense of personal style significantly. I've never been the super girly-makeupy-frilly type gal, but I have found that I really enjoy the times I put more effort into my appearance than pulling on the first pair of jeans and t-shirt that I come across in the morning. Not that I don't still do that...cause I do and probably always will. The point is I enjoy being slouchy but I also enjoy finding funky clothes and some simple but unique jewelry to wear. A little makeup doesn't hurt either. Funky glasses are a nice touch as well. I've come to actually embrace looking different.
I find that I've come a very long way from that chunky blonde kid and her smelly shampoo hair (I've since switched to a less pungent line of haircare products). But I've come to realize lately that I don't think that girl's mind set, the one that she learned from years of being bullied and feeling like an outcast, I don't think it's entirely gone from my system.
That little girl sure shined up like a new penny though in high school, when I finally made some lasting friendships and positively flourished under the guidance of some amazing teachers and fulfilling extracurriculars. More on them at a later date. That's the woman I want to be now, the one who shines like that new penny all the time.
This brings me back to my pseudonym, Running Fish. I am the ugly duckling girl turned swan. If I could mail a picture of myself and what I feel about myself now to my eight year old self, that would be one flabbergasted kid. I might not be the beautiful swan of Hans Christian Andersen's fairy tale, but I'm certainly not the ugly duckling anymore. I like the name Running Fish, it suits me because I've become what I never thought I could be.
I want more, however. Just like the little baby who takes his or her first breath of air and then sucks greedily for more, demanding life, I've gotten a taste of someone I never thought I could be and I want more.
Thus my next and final point: reinventing myself. New beginnings must be in the air. Or in the water here, because a close friend of mine is also going through a reinventing process of her own. We've been discussing the process, it's very technical. *takes a sip of refreshing water, asks to be pardoned for the pun*
I've always been of the list making variety (in school it's really the only way I can keep myself on track most of the time) but this time, I don't have a definitive "this is everything I plan to do to further myself" list. What I do have is an open canvas and a whole lot of paint I'd like to use. Some of the paint cans I've admired include fiction writing, martial arts, container gardening, creative cooking (my family has really loved it as I've explored this one, I must say), water color painting, and most recently archery. Some of the cans, container gardening for instance, I've only just opened. Some, like martial arts, I've already painted with quite a bit. Some, like archery, I've done before but haven't in a long while. I plan to try all of these things. I don't know what will find a permanent place in my repertoire of life activities. I don't know what else I'll stumble along now that my mind is cleared and opened.
I've taken a breath of fresh air. This past summer has been rather difficult emotionally for me. But I have high hopes for this fall and the seasons to follow it. My past will always be a part of me, but it is only that, a part not my entirety. I might have decided all of this a tad too late for a 2010 resolution or for spring cleaning, but I want this to last more than just a year or any other specific set amount of time. I want to reinvent not who am I but how I live. Because I want to live and live fully.
That's probably enough for now. I can put that deep, philosophical box of mine back on the shelf. Don't worry, it's still visible. I won't stuff it into the nether region of my closet.
Here's a fun video from the recent Disney film Princess and the Frog to wrap things up. If you haven't had enough of my philosophizing, and you're sad I packed that box up, you'll especially enjoy the sentiment behind this catchy ditty.
As far back as I can remember, I felt huge around my peers. Literally huge. HUGE. huge. I was the girl who by First grade was already a good half a head taller than the average in my class. By time I was in the Fourth grade, I was taller and about twice the weight (not exaggerating) as my teacher. In my defense, she was super petite. But still, I was ten and entering the stage where my classmates noticed this sort of thing. It didn't help my case that I wore clothes that were a good size too big for my already roly-poly body, I hardly ever brushed my hair, and I used this God-awful lavender and something scented shampoo/conditioner that still makes my nose wrinkle when I think about how it made my hair smell. It reeked.
Fourth grade was also the first year we started doing distance running in gym class. The goal was a half-mile that year. By Fifth grade, we were expected to go a mile at the end of the year. I was always the girl who either never finished because we ran out of time or was the last one to finish. I'd try to run, I really would, but then I'd get winded and would stop. It was actually painful.
The other kids would laugh at me as they ran past in a big group, all with their slender limbs propelling them along. I just didn't fit into the mold needed to be a part of the pack. Some years I was fortunate to have a classmate who was also on the heavy side to keep me company, but I was always still taller (and in those days that meant "bigger" as well) and I never finished ahead of anyone. Not once. From Fourth grade through my Sophomore year of high school, the last year I had a gym class that required a mile-run. I always seemed to come up short of doing anything well. I even got in trouble for reading when I wasn't supposed to, but that's another story.
While this all might seem like a really long tangent that needs to nipped off and redirected, it's all quite crucial to how I view myself and the world around me now as an adult. I still get a chuckle out of typing those words "as an adult" in reference to myself. Chuckle chuckle.
Fully grown now, I stand at 6'1" tall barefoot. I started to get a handle on my weight in my late teens- I lost approximately 85 pounds between my Freshmen and Senior years of high school. No small feat (pardon the pun), I will give myself a clap for this. Clap clap. College wasn't that nice to me, however, in the weight department. I managed to keep myself nice and trim my Freshmen year, but the following Summer and on into the Fall of my Sophomore year I gained a good 25 pounds back. Which is where I have remained for the past year.
To continue the positive note, however, I've developed my sense of personal style significantly. I've never been the super girly-makeupy-frilly type gal, but I have found that I really enjoy the times I put more effort into my appearance than pulling on the first pair of jeans and t-shirt that I come across in the morning. Not that I don't still do that...cause I do and probably always will. The point is I enjoy being slouchy but I also enjoy finding funky clothes and some simple but unique jewelry to wear. A little makeup doesn't hurt either. Funky glasses are a nice touch as well. I've come to actually embrace looking different.
I find that I've come a very long way from that chunky blonde kid and her smelly shampoo hair (I've since switched to a less pungent line of haircare products). But I've come to realize lately that I don't think that girl's mind set, the one that she learned from years of being bullied and feeling like an outcast, I don't think it's entirely gone from my system.
That little girl sure shined up like a new penny though in high school, when I finally made some lasting friendships and positively flourished under the guidance of some amazing teachers and fulfilling extracurriculars. More on them at a later date. That's the woman I want to be now, the one who shines like that new penny all the time.
This brings me back to my pseudonym, Running Fish. I am the ugly duckling girl turned swan. If I could mail a picture of myself and what I feel about myself now to my eight year old self, that would be one flabbergasted kid. I might not be the beautiful swan of Hans Christian Andersen's fairy tale, but I'm certainly not the ugly duckling anymore. I like the name Running Fish, it suits me because I've become what I never thought I could be.
I want more, however. Just like the little baby who takes his or her first breath of air and then sucks greedily for more, demanding life, I've gotten a taste of someone I never thought I could be and I want more.
Thus my next and final point: reinventing myself. New beginnings must be in the air. Or in the water here, because a close friend of mine is also going through a reinventing process of her own. We've been discussing the process, it's very technical. *takes a sip of refreshing water, asks to be pardoned for the pun*
I've always been of the list making variety (in school it's really the only way I can keep myself on track most of the time) but this time, I don't have a definitive "this is everything I plan to do to further myself" list. What I do have is an open canvas and a whole lot of paint I'd like to use. Some of the paint cans I've admired include fiction writing, martial arts, container gardening, creative cooking (my family has really loved it as I've explored this one, I must say), water color painting, and most recently archery. Some of the cans, container gardening for instance, I've only just opened. Some, like martial arts, I've already painted with quite a bit. Some, like archery, I've done before but haven't in a long while. I plan to try all of these things. I don't know what will find a permanent place in my repertoire of life activities. I don't know what else I'll stumble along now that my mind is cleared and opened.
I've taken a breath of fresh air. This past summer has been rather difficult emotionally for me. But I have high hopes for this fall and the seasons to follow it. My past will always be a part of me, but it is only that, a part not my entirety. I might have decided all of this a tad too late for a 2010 resolution or for spring cleaning, but I want this to last more than just a year or any other specific set amount of time. I want to reinvent not who am I but how I live. Because I want to live and live fully.
That's probably enough for now. I can put that deep, philosophical box of mine back on the shelf. Don't worry, it's still visible. I won't stuff it into the nether region of my closet.
Here's a fun video from the recent Disney film Princess and the Frog to wrap things up. If you haven't had enough of my philosophizing, and you're sad I packed that box up, you'll especially enjoy the sentiment behind this catchy ditty.
Signed,
Sparkle O'Featherty
(just kidding)
Running Fish
Kudos to you as you open those paint cans! I will be cheering the effort every step of the way. Run, Fish! (and keep blogging!)
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