Wisconsin in the damn summer

/ Ashley / 2 Comments

I was driving home with my father from work today and we were talking about how hot it is. It’s roughly hot as balls. Which is an expression I don’t really use, but it’s really the only way to describe this weather. My previously clean-feeling skin took on a sticky residue not unlike the back of a post-it. (Poetic, huh? Can you tell I work in an office?)

“It’s frickin’ hot,” I said, wiping my forehead with the back of my hand.

“Well the other option is freezin’ your ass off in a blizzard.”

“Well…” I paused, thinking of how to back my claim that a sticky heatwave is worse than a blizzard. Then I realized his logic was off. “No, I have many other options,” I said. “I could sit in air conditioning. I could go to the pool. I could go to a beach. I could drink some cold beer. I could go workout in an air conditioned gym. I have plenty of other options.”

I don’t think he had a retort. Probably because I was right.

Anyway, we have a heat advisory for the rest of the week, so I’m going to have to find some ways to cool off. After I dropped my father off at home, I continued on to my apartment, thinking of ways to stay cool.

[why not just say “hot as balls until Friday?”]

[for any of my southern friends, I’m sure 90s sound refreshing and cool. Probably because you’re not taking the hellish Wisconsin humidity into consideration.]

Go to the pool/beach

A public pool is about a two minute walk from my apartment. I’ve found this is a great way to cool off. I have mixed feelings about public pools – more negative than positive. But when the weather is hot enough I don’t really care. On the one hand, it’s a pool available to me to use whenever I want. On the other hand, a lot of kids see it as a a big toilet. There’s a ton of chemicals in the water to dillute the children’s urine. There is almost always too many people there, and there is always a person or two who really shouldn’t be wearing a bikini. I  feel on display at pools or beaches.  I’m convinced that when I take off my cover up, everyone is looking at me, thinking that my thighs are huge and that I should probably just go ahead and leave that thing on. Then when I wade into the water, I’m paranoid that somebody is going to go into my bag, take my wallet or worse – my journal or Kindle. When I finally dip underwater, I feel refreshed for a few seconds, only to resurface, fully convinced that my waterproof mascara is not actually waterproof. In order to avoid looking like a black-eyed sea creature emerging from what must be pure chlorine, I wipe under my eyes about a dozen times before I feel okay. I quickly return to my seat, check my bag for the essentials, crack open my Nalgene bottle of lemonade and settle in with my book until I overheat again and have to go through the whole submerging process all over again.

This is what I opted to do today. It was bright and sunny when I got home. I immediately changed into my suit and walked over to the pool, only to be there for about 20 minutes before this happened the sky started getting darker and people started talking about the pool closing. Another twenty minutes passed before lightning was spotted and everyone had to get out of the pool. I sat reading until I was sufficiently creeped out by the guy with the North Carolina logo tattoed on his chest who kept staring at me.

Sit in air conditioning 

This is by far the easiest of the options, since all I need to do is flip a switch and sit. This does require a television, Netflix, and possibly some snacks. If I’m looking to make it a more productive evening, I’ll grab a book or a notebook and actually accomplish something. This also has the potential to be the most soul-crushing. Usually when air conditioning is called for, it looks absolutely gorgeous outside, so I feel guilty for being inside. Typically, sitting in air conditioing doesn’t last more than an hour or two before I get sick of my living room and decide to do something else.

Drink cold beer

This is nice if you have some good microbrews. Few things are as satisfying as opening an ice cold beer and drinking it before the condensation soaks through the label. I don’t drink more than two or three, because then I get the genius idea of making inappropriate phone calls or texting people I have no business talking to. That usually results in a lot of blushing, which makes me feel warm, thus defeating the purpose of cooling off. Though I’ve only drank wine on my patio, I suspect it’s an excellent place to drink cold microbrews as well.

Work out at an air conditioned gym

This is funny, I know. Ten minutes into a workout, it no longer matters that the gym is air conditioned. This is just silly. It’s really just a half-hearted attempt to encourage myself to workout since I haven’t done anything since Saturday. I’m going to the spinning class again tomorrow night, and I’m sure I’ll return to my apartment fresh-faced and not at all sweaty. On a related note, I’m signed up for a heated yoga class on Thursday. The room is heated to 90 degrees with a 50% humidity so I should probably bring a parka in case I get a chill.

Demanding someone (most likely my dad) take me out on boat

Think about it. You’re on water, skipping over waves  with your hair flying back from the wind. This feels amazing. Then if the boat is anchored, there’s swimming without the public submerging dilemma.

Standing in front of the freezer while eating popsicles

Do I really need to say more?

Window shopping at the mall

With this,  I can kill a few birds with a single stone: I can finally find bedding for my adult-sized mattress, cool off, and conveniently have my paycheck pre-spent upon direct deposit. It’s all winning, all the time. Probably the smartest of my ideas so far.

I’m sure I’ll survive as long as there is shade, moving air, water, or ice cubes nearby. If none of those things are around, I’ll probably just pass out from heat exhaustion.

A little about Jay-Z, Kanye, and my blog.

/ Ashley / 5 Comments

Yesterday afternoon, I went to my uncle’s house to celebrate my cousin’s 21st birthday. Along the way, my little brother and I listened to Jay-Z and Kanye West. By the way, I just had to google Jay-Z because I wasn’t sure of the correct spelling or notation. I can’t decide if that makes me feel very old, very uncool, or very superior for not knowing how Shawn Corey Carter, who is worth $475 million, (Thanks, Google!) spells his stage name.

We were rocking out (does one rock out to rap?) and singing along, laughing at how ridiculous Kanye’s lyrics  were (“That shit cray, that shit cray, ain’t it Jay? What she order? Fish Fillet”), because honestly, how could you record that and still respect yourself as an artist? Because it’s clear that Kanye thinks of himself as not only an artist, but a visonary.

I’m not sure if anybody remembers January 4th when Kanye forgot he was using Twitter to unveil DONDA (hah, what?), but it was a ridiculous thing to witness. At the time, I had his tweets sent to my phone as text messages because he said awesome things like this:

That night, I didn’t have my phone near me for a few hours. I found it and saw that I had something like 36 missed texts. About 33 of them were from Twitter. All from Kanye. And they were still coming. Obviously, I changed the mobile forwarding on Kanye’s tweets.

Now that I’ve shared my extensive Jay-Z research and  given you a brief history of Kanye’s Twitter, I’ll move onto what I actually meant to write about. Ryan and I had a lot of fun on the 20-minute drive. When we arrived, I was bombarded by half of my family telling me they loved my blog. I’m not going to pretend like I didn’t like it. Compliments are nice. They’re even nicer when they’re about something you care about.

While I was in high school, I kept a Xanga. I think that for the most part, it was very similar to what this is, except even more self-absorbed (can you believe it?) and melodramatic. However, I do think I posted some interesting things. That was around the time I remember feeling like I was exploding with creativity.  I credit a lot of that to Xanga. It was the perfect outlet for my artistic restlessness and wandering self esteem issues. But I was embarrassed of it. I didn’t share the link anywhere (myspace?), I didn’t tell my friends to read it unless they stumbled upon it themselves, and I certainly didn’t invite my parents or extended family to read and comment on it. Part of this is because I was a teenager and while I didn’t want my parents knowing my business, I wanted everybody else in the world to realize the importance of my personal dramas.

Now that I’m older and have a better sense of self, I’ve sort of taken a claim to my blog. It still seems weird to articulate that, but I have one and I enjoy it. I’m enjoying it now even more that people are reading it and telling me they enjoy it. It means a lot that I can be doing what I want (ie: writing about myself) and be recognized for it. Despite appearances, I’m not doing this to just blather on about my life. I’m doing this because I think that every person’s existence is important. I believe that everybody has a story that deserves to be told. And if they don’t feel comfortable sharing their story, then at least they can be reminded that they are not alone in those feelings of love, loneliness, despair, euphoria, or hopelessness. By sharing myself on an intimate level, I’m trying to remind people in this crazy age of technology that we’re humans, not just profile pictures and clever autobiographies.

And if people are entertained along the way, that’s good too.

I feel extremely tacky saying this, but if you read my blog and you enjoy it, I’d like to invite you to comment, subscribe, or even share a link to it. I would really like to expand my pool of readers and possibly even start conversations in the comments. I love hearing other people’s anecdotes about similar situations; it’s a nice reminder that human existence isn’t solitary. Though we all think we are special snowflakes and our sufferings are unlike those of anyone else’s, we’re really just going though the same trials with variations on dialogue and setting.

Anyway, thank you for reading. It means more than you probably realize.

Somehow, I’m terrible at shavasana.

/ Ashley / 2 Comments

This morning I went to yoga. I woke up feeling optimistic and fresh-headed, mostly because of the sunshine and a good night of sleep. I am still feeling like my body is made of rusted tin, so I figured yoga would either be the perfect or absolute worst way to spend my morning.

It turned out to be a mix of both. I took a few yoga classes when I lived in Milwaukee. The first one was taught by a ballet dancer who was obviously incredibly flexible and did each pose so accurately she could have been the model for a yoga coffee table book. Fortunately, she was also an excellent teacher who made sure to explain each pose very thoroughly, telling us which muscles to engage and which ones should be void of tension. I actually felt like a got a workout in her class. I was usually sore on the days that followed the class, realizing I could engage muscles I had never acknowledged. It was sort of like discovering my body and what it was capable of.

I also felt much more balanced. The I used to think that the whole body-spirit balance was for crazy new-agers who stink of patchouli and incense, surviving on jicamas and green tea, swearing that animal protein is full of evil. But I’ve realized over the last few months that it’s pretty important. I feel so much better when I’m active and taking care of myself. If I spend a few weeks with my butt on the couch, my whole outlook changes. The only thing that seems in the realm of possibility is continuing to watch Netflix and eating bowls of cereal. My outlook turns negative and I say no to everything because none of it seems worth the effort. Then somehow a switch is flipped and I get sick of the lethargy and go for a bike ride or something. That’s when things turn around – I’m more excited about life, days seem brighter and I get upset that there aren’t enough hours in the day to accomplish everything I want.

It comes down to something very simple that I don’t acknowledge as much as I should: physical activity like exercise, excitement, love, and sex raises endorphins. This makes a person feel good. It gives you a feeling of euphoria. Which might explain why Michelle Obama Arms continues to work out despite the fact that she looks amazing.

What I like about yoga is that it feels like an hour of stretching. You’re encouraged to turn inward, focusing on your breath and working at your own pace, coordinating the poses in sun salutations with your inhales and exhales. Today, I remembered the one thing I struggled with the most while I was in classes at Milwaukee: calming my mind in order to be fully engaged in the poses. The ballet dancer used to tell us that the goal of shavasana (the corpse pose at the end of a session, where the body recovers and your mind, body, and spirit are rejuvenated) was to have a completely blank mind. We worked during the class to breath deeply, imagining all the stresses and worries being expelled with each exhale. During shavasana, I was usually aware that my mind was noisy. I was distracted by the buses starting and stopping in front of the building, how if I moved my palm slightly on my mat, it made that soft sticky sound, and that my breath was much more shallow than I realized. There were only a few times when I felt truly at peace and clear-headed during shavasana. And when that happened, it was amazing. Those were the best classes.

I didn’t achieve a clear head during yoga today. I’m assuming it was because it’s been years since I’ve done a downward dog or a sun salutation. I don’t think I turned inward once. I think it was because it was a new situation. I was aware of the smallness of the fitness studio and began to wonder how they held classes in a such a small space. Then I noticed the trees outside and realized it was windier than I remebered. And the cars on the street – they were driving fast, offering a sharp contrast to the stillness of the bodies in the room. And the whispery flute music playing over the speakers was distracting since every other song seemed to be a variation on Pachelbel’s canon. At the end of the class, my body felt much better, but my head was still all over the place.

It was so unsatisfying. I had woken up with such a clear head, but as the morning had worn on, it had gotten cluttered by the day’s plans and things that needed to get done. I felt off balance in such a strange way – much like when your body is exhausted and your mind is racing or vice versa (which is worse in my opinion) – when you’re mentally exhausted but your body is awake.

I really did enjoy it though. I’d like to do this more regularly. Ideally I would like to do it daily, but I doubt that will happen. I’ll shoot for a couple times a week at least, then maybe it will just become a part of my day on it’s own.

Anyway, namaste from my couch to you, wherever you are.

Michelle Obama Arms

/ Ashley / 1 Comment

Tonight Katie and I went to a strength training class. It was further proof that I have almost no arm or core strength.

This time, the instructor was male. He was a small-built man with tight muscles and small tattoo on the inside of his forearm. He seemed nice enough. He welcomed us as he put on his headset – which I found funny since there were only five people in the class tonight, but whatever – and told us we would be doing a circuit workout with three stations.

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So, other than Katie and I, there was a young mother trying to lose baby weight, a middle-aged woman, and a fifty-something woman with Michelle Obama arms.

Each station lasted twelve minutes and consisted of six exercises. The first was arms – chest presses, rows, curls, something called an Arnold press, and squat presses. Because I have almost no arm strength and have very little willpower, I thought I would grab 10lb weights. I started out with chest presses, only to do three reps before Tattoo Headset came over and handed me 15lb weights. “You can do more,” he said. “Ten pounds isn’t allowed here.”

“But I have no arm strength!” I protested.

“You’ll get it,” he barked before also swapping Katie’s weights and then harassing the middle-aged woman.

I think I should have stayed with the 10lb weights. Tattoo Headset kept yelling about form and each time he yelled, my form got worse.

Michelle Obama Arms was a champ with perfect form and Tattoo Headset kept complimenting her. I wanted to tell her to go home. She was done working out. Like, done working out for her life. She was in the best shape a woman her age could hope for and could rock a sleeveless dress.

Then we had to do these exercises around these massive tractor wheels. I don’t know if you know about tractor wheels, but when lying on the side, they’re roughly four feet tall. Tattoo Headset told us to step up with kettlebells (EIGHTEEN GODDAMN POUNDS) to the beat of the music – which was roughly 210bpm. And we had to keep our bodies straight when we stood on the wheel. Yeah, my body was not cooperating. My abs hurt more than anything else by that point, so it was almost impossible to stand straight. I would pause briefly to compose myself (re: let my muscles stop quivering), and he would yell, “KEEP GOING! MAKE IT WORK! STAY STRONG! COME ON, GUYS!” I had no center of gravity. At one point, I almost fell into the tire and then back out of the tire.

When I gracefully stumbled with the kettlebell prepared to break my fall, Tattoo Headset just told me not to do that. In fact, he said to pretend it was lava. Right. Like my body would stop falling just because there was pretend lava in the middle of the tire.

While I was falling into the tire, Michelle Obama Arms was stepping up like a champ, hardly breaking a sweat. Bitch.

On the way home, Katie said she hated the instructor. She’s one of the most stubborn people I know, so it doesn’t surprise me that she didn’t like him swapping her weights or telling her what to do. But I appreciated his insistence. As I’ve already stated, I don’t have much willpower, so when I work out, I tend to slow down when it gets hard, instead of pushing through. So, even though I almost fell into a tire and will most likely not be able to pick up a folder tomorrow at work, I feel good.

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Now I’m going to go make this face in and flaunt my imaginary Michelle Obama arms.

I should thank Tattoo Headset for making me use the 15lb weights.