So after staying up until - I dunno - 3:00AM last night (that would be FRIDAY Nite) I woke up this morning at 9:30AM and made myself a delicious bowl of oatmeal before running into the shower, changing for the gym - and heading off to my study group for Geography. We met at the bookstore down the street and drank a cup of Joe (haha) and studying until about … um … 4:00-4:30? and then ran to the gym where I stayed until 7:00PM. I’m going to say something that is going to shock me. Even though I eluded to similar feelings in this post - what I experienced today was like 10 times stronger than that moment.

I was walking on the treadmill - at a good solid 3.8 MPH and a steep 4.5 incline. I was working in my 80 percent target rate about 40 percent of the time - and in my 70 percent target heart rate the remaining time. I was sweating … like a crazy woman; the kind of sweat that pools in between your tits (okay - guys shouldn’t know what that feels like… ) - collects at the nape of your neck - and starts this steady stream down the back of your tank top. By the time you’re done, you have this band of water around your panties (again … guys…) and the treadmill below you has evidence of your leak. When the treadmill tells me I’ve burned about 500 calories and walked a good 3 miles in 45 glorious minutes, it hits me. This feeling like - PRAISE GOD I AM ALIVE AND I AM HEALTHY AND I GOT PEOPLE WHO LOVE ME feeling. I want to raise up my hands and start jumpin up and down yelling to everyone about how fuckin great life is and how glad I am to be an American. It is at 45 minutes that it kicks in and I start to increase the speed - pushing my heart rate even faster - and feeling like I have come down from the best orgasm with Mr. Hitachi Wand EVER. I LOVE that feeling. I always end on this surge of energy - and an embarrassment that I was going to quit 30 minutes earlier.

The Nazi trainer pushed me so hard the other day (I asked her to because I was angry at the English teacher I once loved. It’s true. Check it out… I actually loved him at one point. How foolish was I?) that I was woke up thinking about her. I had asked Ms. Nazi to push me hard and she was all to happy to accommodate me. It was “leg” day - and I sat and pushed and did abductor and adducters and lunges and planks and … by the time I left I knew she had kicked my ass into a new dimension. But it felt good. So back to this morning - when I woke up - I had to stand in the shower for a good 30 minutes and just let the hot water penetrate the soreness. It wasn’t pretty - but again - I felt really great! So ok - today - I walk for an hour. 673 calories later - I’m HIGH. I feel like nothing can stop me. I go straight to the counter and I ask if there is a trainer available. A sweet guy that I call Scott Baio (spelling?) -the younger years - volunteers to work me out. I am doing pull ups (ok - they cheat and take away half of my body weight but still… !), I’m doing bicep curls and chest press thingees and working my triceps and then I go to do planks and BAM! Right on my face. I had no arms. Nothing in my arms. They were tingling and burning a little - and I felt a little light headed - and it was the BEST feeling (next to an orgasm with Mr. Hitachi Man and ‘you’) that I’ve ever had … EVER. I think it’s happened. I think I’m addicted to the burn.

I told Ms. Nazi the other day that I want so badly to tell her no when she asks me for 10 more lunges while carrying weights across the floor. I so badly want to kick her in the vagina — hard — when she asks me for 10 more seconds while holding the damn plank and I can hardly see because sweat is dripping into my eyeballs and blinding me. I so badly want to tell her to go to hell when she asks me to do step ups on the weight bench while holding 15 pounds close to my chest like am “old friend”. And when she puts me on the stair climber and asks me to walk up backwards to work my ass - I want to kick her in hers. But there is something inside of me - this incredible stubborness that can not say “no”. I say “yes” - and if it doesn’t burn enough I grunt out “2 more!” I have become that gym rat we all love to hate. For years I have been that type of girl who exercised because it was necessary to do in order to enjoy the things I enjoy. But I didn’t like it one bit. I liked the results - but not the process. I swear - no matter how much I complain about the nazi, no matter how much I may hate Scott Baio tomorrow when I try to lift my arms to brush my teeth, no matter how badly I think muscle heads are kinda a little loopy and in a league of their own - and that people who are so into their bodies really need to spend more time with friends and/a social life…no matter how much I might try to say those types of things - or believe in those things - the truth remains: I am in love with that burning feeling.

Who oh that burning feeling.

I put every bit of anger I had into those weights and treadmill today — and I only partially still want a cigarette. Which is really good because usually cigarettes are the only things that make me feel better when I’m that mad. And that’s another story for another day (the reason why I was mad…) - it’s 1:34AM and I’m way tired. I’m going to drink tons of water - take some Advil and get up so I can … yup… go to the gym. Hopefully I’ll be able to get some energy and then I can come back and talk with some of you. Unless there’s football - in which case I’ll do some studying - then come back later and play with you.

Even “The Burn” is no substitute for you guys! Come on! I’m not cumming on the treadmill or the weight machines. The gym just supplies that after sex shudder - that aftershock. Nothing but sex can deliver the true Earth Shattering Experience of an Orgasm. Well, except for Mr. Hitachi wand. And a really great shoe sale. And getting an A on a final. And realizing I have only one more class with Mr. AssholicalExtraordinaire.

And a nice marble. *if you don’t know - you should ask me!*

but yeah. The burn has nothin’ on you. But it is a rather nice discovery.

I know I probably should be writing about something like school - or my no smoking (3 weeks - thank you VERY much!) - but all that is coming to mind is Atticus. My newest brain crush.

As many of you know - I’ve been trying to watch To Kill A Mockingbird now for the past … I dunno - YEAR? I finally sat down and watched it the other night (it was a hard decision - A movie - or haploids, mitosis, meiosis, etc. But I FINALLY made a decision and buckled in and went for it!) What a lovely movie that was. And what an absolutely adoring father Atticus was. He was just so gentle and kind and strong and … wise. He is definitely the kind of father every father should strive to be. So yeah - brain crush and then some. Not to mention - Gregory Peck. Holy cow was that guy hot! He was so hot I couldn’t even fantasize about him. I know that sounds really strange - but - there it is. I use to think that Michael Landon was hot too - and could never have a fantasy about him, either. I would watch Little House on the Prairie and honestly just want to be Laura and curl up in his lap in a very innocent non sexually deviant way. I have those moments…that’s why you all love me.

I know it’s been like forever since I’ve written anything in here. Thankfully you’re all very understanding and you know that I have very good reasons - but it doesn’t make me feel any better that I’ve somehow neglected this blog. It’s deeper than that, though. I haven’t written anything lately - nothing in my journal, nothing on scraps of paper, nothing at all. And I’ve somehow been okay with that. I miss writing, but I don’t miss the - struggle. Writing to me is like - Gregory Peck and Michael Landon and all the other brain crushes I’ve ever had: It’s so perfect that sometimes I feel better leaving it alone and not tainting it with bullshit. We’ve all been down this road with CeCe before - but there it is.

My family is still in town and they are scheduled to leave soon. That should free up a bit of time - but school is still kicking my tender ass from one side of the state to the other. My biology teacher likes me now - and I’m pulling a rather disappointing C+ in biology right now - inches away from the B+ I would long to have but feel a sort of ambivalence to achieve. I have her figured out though. I had a feeling we would have a quiz today and we did. She is encouraging though, handing me back my tests and quizzes with notes on them like “Keep up the good work, CeCe - you’re improving” and all that other kind of stuff that typically propels me forward to get that A just to prove my worthiness. And Biology isn’t all that boring right now. For instance, did you know that as soon as the earth began to cool - and water appeared - there was life? Just like that. Reminds me of this story my father told me after reading the paper a few months back. Apparently there was a river - pretty big river - that was filled to the rim with fish and life and … well whatever else lives in rivers. This river suddenly dried up. Life around the river just died - along with everything in it. The big environmentalist people were concerned and knew that they needed to bring the river back. The scientists predicted that it would take years before life returned to the river and the surrounding area. They slowly filled the river back up again and with in months - not years - but a few mere months - BAM! Life. Birds and fish, and plants and flowers and animals - in abundance. So - yeah. I find that all very interesting and very … symbolic. I can get into that sort of biology.

So Atticus is my irrigation. Ok, ok - literature is my irrigation. I guess I need to do a bit more reading/watching and those types of things will literally wash over me and bring me back to life again. My writing coach told me that I need to write for at least 2 hours every day. It should be my “job” he said. I should just sit down and do it - and there should be no alternative. I worry about silly things - like what I will say - or what will come out of my head - or whether or not anything I write will make much sense and whether or not I should print any of it here - but I guess all that worrying does is prevent me from doing anything at all. So - I will try to write more and “worry” less. Words, after all, are my water.

It’s 10 minutes till Tuesday and I haven’t even started my podcast for the day. I’m banking on doing it tomorrow but I hate to make promises. You know how I get. What I will say is that thanks to “Mr. d” - I have a question for the podcast - and thanks to Atticus I have a topic, and thanks to my callers I have some feedback to share - and thanks to some super sweet and generous callers and friends I have some gifts to brag about that have recently made their way to my wish list’s “purchased” list.

Take care - and talk to you tomorrow…

So I finally posted this! Sorry for the delay. Slowly catching up on everything after taking a small hiatus to study for 8 chapters of ADT, ATP, Protein construction, functions and functional groups - not to mention also having to learn more than I ever really wanted to about phospholipids, mitachondria, and step by step production of atp through respiration and … never mind. You get the picture.
Anyways - here is Episode #7 - FINALLY - which is just a little bit of a rant on my adventures into the non smoking community and my discovery of the doggy park. 22 minutes of pure entertainment for your enjoyment.

I’ll be logging in for a bit this evening (8:00PM - 12:00PM). I’ll also be logging in in the evening on Thursday for a bit too. Maybe early evening - but days are reserved for all the day to day stuff that I haven’t been able to get to for the past week (recordings, laundry, studying, doggy park, etc.)

I’m planning on writing a longer more detailed post in a few days. We’ll see how that works. Sorry for being a bit “flakey” lately - blame it on Biology…my heart truly would have preferred to be here with all of you.

As many of my readers know (well - long term readers…) I have smoked off and on for the better part of … well - a year or so. (that’s the story I tell my parents and I’m sticking to that, k?) and about a year ago I went on the patch to stop smoking. Well - I started again after just a few weeks. So - I’ve grown tired of the little hints that my family throws my way about how nasty smoking is and how horrible it is for you and blah blah blah. Oh - and I also read a little chapter on free radicals in biology and happen to know that … well - smoking breeds those little bastards. So I officially went BACK ON the patch today. (waits for the applause to die down.) Yup - all smoking calls will be purely role playing for me from now on, boys. It’s true. I want to be free radical free - and also would enjoy talking through my mouth and not a tube thingee in my neck. I also realized that no matter how bad biology sucks at the moment - I still think I would rather enjoy living a while longer. I’m sure things will get better. So there we have it. It’s official.

For those of you who are fortunate enough to never have picked up the rather nasty habit of smoking (which I am not ashamed to say still appeals to me in a sick, twisted, demented sort of way) - let me explain a few things. The patch takes care of the nicotine part of things. I get a constant rush of nicotine for at least 2 more months. The amount gets lower and lower as the weeks go by - but the nicotine is still in my system thanks to a rather fashion forward clear sticky patch on my left shoulder blade. However (BIG COMMA INSERTED HERE____), the habit of having something in my mouth - something in my fingers - inhaling - blowing out and the whole damn ritual … is quite another cross to bear. What the hell was going to go in my mouth now? What was I going to do with my fingers? How was I going to have those moments away from it all - where I could totally take in nature and fresh (*cough*) air? I know I know! I would go to the DOGGY PARK! So off Jackson and I went - with my mom in tow - to discover the world of doggy parks.

This particular doggy park has 2 areas. The small dog area (ankle biters) and the big dog area (where the MEN hang out and compare their dogs to the others in the area.) Jackson and I went through door #1. Jackson cowardly hid behind me for about the first 5 minutes - and then sniffed a few of the dogs butts (”Hey! I’m Jack … who are you and where do you live?”) and politely allowed others to do the same (”Nice to meet you, Misty - I’m Jack and my person and I live on the other side of town!”) and then he was off. My little man ran - and barked - and ran some more. I laughed as I saw his fur flying away from his face - his mouth open in some lop sided grin - while 2 smaller dogs nipped at his heels. For about an hour I played and ran after - and enjoyed him enjoy his freedom and never once did I think to myself “I wish I had a smoke” - or want to trade the time with him and my mother with time alone out back puffing away another 4 dollars and 75 cents. The Doggy Park will see me often. Jackson napped for about 3 hours afterwards - and I discovered something that we both could do together that didn’t endanger (well - so far) each other’s health and well being.

In the evening, when I normally log in to take some calls - I was invited to watch a scary movie with three 13 year olds. I could not pass them up - and so the 4 of us cuddled up on my aunt and uncle’s bed and watched Disturbia. We ate icecream, screamed at sounds coming from the attic (still have no idea what the hell is up there but I sure as hell am NOT going to investigate!), and held each other’s hands through the scary parts. Soon it was 11:00PM - and my first day of not smoking was nearly behind me. So I signed in about 2 hours ago. I apologize.

So for anyone who smokes and is looking to stop - you may join me and Tiffy in our support group. It’s not as much fun as the doggy park - but it will do your spirit and your body good, I believe. Thanks, Tiffy, by the way, for joining in the struggle with me. I don’t think I would be able to do this with out you. (hands Tiffy a red vine licorice stick) << They really do work. Honest.

I’m exhausted and Jackson is out like a light. I think I’ll join him. Not on the floor of course - but tucked inside of my bed. Warm - safe - with a nice clear sticky thing on my back - promising many more adventures, many more days - and many more challenges I’m sure to overcome.