Geezer Envy.

This, is seriously insane:

http://www.people.com/people/article/0,,20624627,00.html

After reading the above article about Ms Besse Cooper from Georgia turning 116, all I feel like doing is stomping my feet like the girl begging for an oompa loompa in Willie Wonka's Chocolate Factory and screaming: I WANT TO LIVE UNTIL I'M 116 TOOO!!!

How cool is Besse?  Answer: So freakin cool. She was born in 1896 for goodness sake!  Before the Model T! She is the oldest person in the world (hello - that's how you get famous) right now, the 8th person to ever reach this age EVER, and the 4th person to do so in America.  So cool.

Making a fun recipe tonight. Stick around!

L

Relax to Survive.

This morning, I boarded the train, took my seat by the window and pulled out my notebook, ready to get some script-writing done before work.  A man walked by me wearing a hilarious jean jacket circa 1984 that attracted my eyeballs.  I stared as he passed and saw that all down the backside of his jean dream was embroidery that read, "Relax to Survive."   I thought about it. 

It struck a chord.

Reason being: I have anxiety. I'm not someone who you would think has such a thing (because I'm pretty even-keeled and laid back most days), but I do.  It hit me like a brick to the face in 2005 as I walked down the grassy aisle of my college graduation field, changing me in an instant.  I was about to take my place among my fellow hungover about-to-be-graduates when I suddenly became dizzy.  Within minutes of finding my seat, the president of my college took to the podium and something inside me burst.  I had to get out of there.  So, I ran. Off the field, through the crowds, hyperventilating, searching high and low for a bathroom, and basically dying. Or so I thought.  

I used the bathroom, ran back out onto the field and sat. Things turned black.  I became dizzy again. Nauseous again.  Heart pounding again.  I was about to die again.  Once more, I ran off of the field like a mad-woman cloaked in a black cape to search for the bathroom again.  Afterwards, I ran to the ambulance that had been parked on the sidelines in case anybody happened to be dying. Like me.  The paramedics checked me out and told me that I had heat exhaustion.  I disagreed, telling them, "No, It's not the heat, it's everything. Everything is wrong."  


As my graduation continued without me, I remained on the sidelines, head between my knees, with someone else's grandmother applying a wet cloth to the back of my neck.  Then, my number was up. It was my turn to cross the stage into graduation land.  Other-persons-grandma told me that I didn't have to go, but I did.  Shaking like a leaf, I stood up, I crossed the stage, took my diploma and shook the president's hand.  Every step felt like an eternity and every thread of my being begged me to stop because I was obviously having a heart attack. 

My hand escaped the president's and as I turned to the graduation day photographer waiting for me, it was gone.  The shakes, the nausea, the heart pounding, the dizziness.  All of it was gone.  I was no longer dying. Just like that.

That was my first full blown panic attack even if I didn't know it at the time.  Since then, I've had some years where my anxiety acted as a hidden ninja, pouncing only every so often...and other years were plagued with constant anxiety mind games brought on by myself.  Nowadays, it's mostly gone.  I have ways of dealing and overcoming, but that doesn't mean I don't think about it. Often.

Which is why today, when I read that man's coat, I couldn't help but think how correct the words are.  We have to relax or we're not going to make it.  To survive...and really, really live, we need to relax.  A little more each day.

Thanks for the insight, jean jacket man.

xoxo

L

Are you crazy? Get engaged to find out!

So, this is happening apparently...

Hi, I'm a psycho diet, nice to meet you.

First, I would like to say that the whole bridal industry scares the poop out of me (ew, I said poop). Prices sky-rocket, opinions fly, pressure mounts and people say things like, "I'm going to be such a bridezilla," while also thinking things like, "Wow, my best friend from 1st grade should be in my wedding party since she saved my whole family from that sinking ship that one time, but I don't know. Her hair clashes with my theme."

Now, obviously I wanted to look good on my wedding day, too. Duh. I wasn't trying to show up in sweats and be like, "What? This is how I looked when you said you loved me yesterday..."

I had my friend put extension things in my hair and I wore fake eyelashes so that I didn't have to bother with mascara the whole day.  AND when I was about 6 months out from the day, I told myself, "Now Laura, you may want to back off of the cheese and fried food," so that's what I did.  I got excited about the crafty things (handmade wedding dress! hotel gift bags! candles for centerpieces!), lost some weight and most importantly, I didn't go CRAZY. 

Because I'm pretty sure that the above article (i.e. THROWING A MEDICALLY UNNECESSARY FEEDING TUBE DOWN YOUR GULLET AND NOT EATING FOR 10 DAYS) is bat-crap crazy!  I mean...can we all agree that this is looney bin worthy? Not because everyone should just love themselves and blah blah blah (you really should, though), but because HOW do you erase that memory? How is your wedding day memory going to override that of a feeding tube being shoved down your nose?  It is way too rare of an occurrence to forget about.

I guess my whole "issue" with the extreme bride thing is that I honestly don't think these gals are doing 90 percent of the things they do for their husbands-to-be or themselves.  And if not, then what's the point? Weddings should not be an excuse to act mental!   They should be an excuse to eat, drink, and be merry! Yeesh.

Happy Monday!
xoxo 

Whyyyy?!

I am beyond tired today.  It's like...impossible...to just...be. 

I have the day off (thank you, freelance world), so I guess that's a positive even though I'm not sure it really is.  Working is inspirational, unlike today.  I really wish I had the energy to edit my book, send out a query letter, or even find a kickass dinner recipe for tonight.  Alas, I do not.  Why must days like this exist?  My brain is processing thoughts slower than sludge slipping through a pin hole and it isn't cool.

Oh fun.  I just received an email asking me to work on a new Lifetime show next week.   I guess I can feel somewhat accomplished now, even though it's kinda sad that RECEIVING an email is my big whoop for the day.  Well, that and going to Whole Foods with my sis and neph.  That counts for something, right?

Okay, this has to stop.  I'm forcing myself to do 29 jumping jacks followed by an hour writing in Diary Girl.  Ready, set...GET MOTIVATED!

Things that make me go hmmm...

Being a diary-keeping-kinda girl, it may come as no surprise that I gravitate towards true stories - old and new. Articles, books, short stories or photographs - I love it all.  I love to learn from other people's journey's, no matter where they've been or what they've experienced.  Some part of me wants grow from it, or at the very least, lend an ear.

So while story-listening is somewhat of an obsession of mine, I can't help but have favorites.  And it isn't glamorous.  I'm not in love with stories about puppies (even though I do) or courageous acts selflessness (also cool).  Nope.  Those are not my fave. I love... <drumroll please>....LOVE learning from people who have experienced any sort of mental disorder.  I guess I just want to know what's out there.  What our minds are capable of.

So...without further ado, here is an article on something I have never heard of before:

Orthorexia -  It's an obsession with only allowing the healthiest of foods to enter your system.  Like most disorders, it only gets bad when taken to the extreme.

Have a read:

http://www.cnn.com/2012/01/05/health/eating-healthy-obsessive/index.html?hpt=hp_t3