Limbo

I am stuck in limbo. Figurative limbo.

I graduated in May...seven months ago. We moved to Texas. I didn't want to worry about getting a job while in such a temporary location (temp. jobs aren't the most appealing), so I didn't work. Instead, I studied and tested for my ACSM Certified Health and Fitness Specialist certification, worked out a lot, tried to be a cook (less frequently), and fried my brain cells on pinterest (more frequently...much, much more frequently). 

The condensed version (but, not really) of my summer. Now, if it isn't obvious enough already, I might point out that my summer was not particularly productive...and not even as relaxing as I might have liked. A better word to describe it would be...boring. I do feel good that I was able to get back into shape. I am hoping to actually put use to my certification. I still suck at cooking...and I don't like it, anyway (sorry, Robbie). And there is never really much to say about pinterest (except that it is highly addictive).

SO. Why am I stuck in limbo (because, yes, I know I ramble)? Because I was supposed to do a lot more with the last seven months. I was supposed to find out more about continuing my education (which I actually do want to do...I miss school quite a bit). I was supposed to be preparing for work (specifically work that would help me to get into school, again). I was supposed to sew (I did...fix a skirt...). I thought I might read more. I wanted to get a six pack (wretched, delicious buffalo wild wings...and cheesecake factory...and cheesecake factory). 

So here I am. No school, no work, no six pack (I did make a couple of scarves and a baby blanket...and purchased another book...that I might read). How do I feel? Incredibly lazy. Do I care? 

Yes...........................and no. 

School seems incredibly menacing (but still rewarding). Applying for jobs flat out sucks (and apparently I am terrible at networking). I am going to start training for a show that will take place in March (so, I guess I will have done something). 

So this is my limbo. Want school. Want job. Don't want to do what is necessary.

But hey, at least I blogged again.

What Not to Wear...

I am not a pack-rat. I am simply a collector...

When I first got a job I didn't know what to do with the extra money. It was burning a hole in my pocket. So, of course, I did what any sensible teenager (haha...) would do...I went shopping. I was a hand-me-down dresser for most of my life leading up to that point...that, or my mom made my clothes (they weren't trendy or 'cool'...so I tended to prefer the hand-me-downs). Because of this, my enlarged income satisfied my long-time thirst for new clothes, clothes that were 'cute' (with older brothers, I wore a lot of t-shirts). This is how my collecting began.

I tried to be thrifty. I made some effort to find deals and get the most out of my money, and I did pretty well. My wardrobe grew substantially. I realized that it was easier to buy new clothes than it was to do laundry. Plus, being in high-school, I didn't have much else to put my money toward (because, heaven-forbid, I save it).

Over the following few years this collection simply grew, I discarded a few things here and there, but for the most part it only increased. I am generally the same size as I was in high-school, and everything still fits me...

But, I am female.

A misfortune of being a women is facing the ever-changing fashion trends. It feels nearly impossible to keep up.

With the seasons of fashion, my taste in clothing has changed. What was cute in high-school, and even the first few years of college, is no longer in style. What impact did this have on me? Well, it was simple. I hated my clothes. I would wake up in the morning, and if I weren't crunched for time from over-sleeping, I would sit in front of my over-flowing t-shirt assortment...and feel a complexity of emotions. Anger, at the rapidly changing trends. Sadness, for hating my once-loved clothes. Pity, for myself....and generally depressed.

Generally speaking, those emotions are rather unpleasant...so I did something...well, I did something after months and months of avoiding it. I began to dissemble my wardrobe. Pieces found new homes at Deseret Industries, with my sister, and my niece. I tried to do it slowly, but realized that getting rid of my clothes was like pulling off a band-aid. It had to be done quickly, with as little thought as possible. My sister took what she wanted, and the rest I shoved in bags that I would never again open.

This was last night and now I feel differently. Sad, because my options are nearly diminished...yet, slightly relieved.

Unfortunately, this doesn't mean my shopping bug has been cured. I still want to keep up with the nasty fashion trends. I still want to replace my wardrobe.

But I don't hate my clothes nearly as much anymore.