Back to Work

I know, I know.

It’s been quite a while since I posted last. I wish I could say I have been planning a huge post for today, something extremely special, but that unfortunately is not the case. Life has simply gotten very, very busy.

It’s my senior year. Yay me! As graduation approaches, I’ve been avoiding the idea of going back to school in a few semesters to get my bachelors. The thought of freedom from TCC is just too good. My boyfriend attempted to ask what my future plans were after graduation, poor him. I shut down at the thought of spending more months inside a classroom surrounded by people I wasn’t fond of and teachers who didn’t know how to teach, and all the darned homework (Sorry, babe!). You may or may not have picked up on my ‘I Hate School’ vibes, but be assured, they run parallel to my veins.

It took a while and several suggestions from him of what I could do instead before he struck on an idea I have actually been turning over in the back of my mind for a few months. Fitness instructor.

Now, before you start lecturing me about jumping on the bandwagon, I think you should know that at the end of last year I got into fitness and since then I have adored it. I was working out every day of the week, going to fitness class twice a week, and eating healthy, before I came down with my month-long plague. It took a while to catch up on homework and work, but now that my schedule is back on track, I’ve been jumping back into fitness just as eagerly as before. So, the idea of actually helping people achieve their goals and improve themselves is pretty cool to me.

I’ve been in the Martial Arts for going on nine years now. I’ve worked one on one with people, in groups, and even taught a class or two. While I enjoy it, I never could see myself being a Martial Arts instructor the rest of my life. I prefer working one on one with people. But the idea that these past nine years have been preparing me for something I genuinely believe I would enjoy doing is pretty exciting to me.

So, starting this fall, your girl is going to begin studying for her personal trainer certification.

I still love writing and I’d still love to be an English major, but for now it’s going to be on the back burner. At least until my hatred of school and student loans have simmered down. Until then, I plan on improving myself and my lifestyle through fitness and healthy eating. Will I get tired of the idea of making it my career? Maybe. Maybe I’ll come back in a month with my tail between my legs saying now I’ve decided to be an animation major again (unlikely). I don’t think this will be the case. I might just be trying to reassure myself, but the more I’ve looked into it, the more I believe being a personal trainer could be for me.

Call me stereotypical, but I love the healthy lifestyle. You already know if you read my last few entries how I fall into a rut if I don’t staying moving. Working out regularly has helped keep the depressed thoughts at bay and even improved my self-esteem. I’d love to be able to share that with others. I’d love to use it as a way to develop deep friendships and influence people’s lives for the better.

I’ll let you know in a month if that changes.

 

 

Third Time’s a Charm/ Bad Things Come in Threes

This is my third attempt at a blog.

The first was a dramatic High School-aged attempt to portray myself as mysterious and incomprehensible. Embarrassing, yes, I know. The only remnants of it are in my memory. Sometimes, the delete button is the greatest gift we are given.

The second I told no one about. I wrote through my first and second semester of college. It was an opportunity for me to bare my soul to the world, just an empty shout to the void,  without drawing any real consequences. I referred to it as my self-psychotherapy, I remember (I was taking a philosophy class at the time; there was an entire post on Rene’ Descartes). I gained a surprising number of followers, but still deleted the blog in the end. It helped me through a difficult time and then its use came to an end. That’s not the entire story, of course, but that’s the only part I care to mention.

So here I am, returning to my march to the sea. Do I know what I’m going to write about? Of course not. Do I have a plan? If you think I do, I will fix that erroneous thought process quickly. But I will write and I will vent and I will rewrite. Because the fact is, no matter how many times I delete what I write, I return to it. When I write, my head gets a little clearer and my anxiety lessens. And while frequently my words are dripping with sarcasm and inside jokes with myself, as well as come across as extremely pretentious to others, and probably make  no sense… Where was I going with this? Oh. Right. I do genuinely mean the things I say. I don’t want to seem mysterious and incomprehensible. I don’t want to pretend to bare my soul while actually hiding in a crowd of strangers.

The alarm on my phone says, “You will write words that change the world.” Pretentious? Yes.

But I still hope it’s true.