Let's Partner For A Gym-Free America

Have you ever been assaulted by well-meaning twentysomethings outside of your local grocery store? These special folks probably wanted to offer you a free month-long gym membership. (I signed up once, because I Felt Bad, which is so typical. I never used it.)
Today I conclude that there is NO REASON why I should EVER get a gym membership, although I have considered it of late, thanks to my highly sedentary post-college lifestyle.
Here's why I don't need a gym membership:
1) I live in a garage.
Yesterday I was feeling a tad bit stir-crazy. It was raining really hard, which means that I don't even take short drives to the local Starbucks, because my eyesight is that crappy. So I was stuck in my garage/bedroom. I needed endorphins like the Yos crew needs gear. Then it hit me: I could totally exercise in here, yo! My room is a freakin' two-car garage. I got up and did 100 jumping jacks, 20 lunges, some sprints back and forth between the closet and Kristen's bed, and a few crunches. I also ran around my pile of laundry and even reversed the direction of my running a few times, as an added challenge to my NOTABLY GOOD agility. (If anyone would have walked in, well, it would have given some more mileage to the hypothesis that I am "the weird housemate".)
2) I have funny friends.
As you are probably aware, an extended period of laughter makes for an intense ab workout. Speaking of abs: Abigail made me laugh so hard last night that my eyes became all stingy and weepy. Humorous, witty, freaking hilarious friends = no need for some ab-crunch-buster machine at some gym.
3) Crap happens to me.
Bird crap, that is. I was already running late for work today, and when I left my garage/room and went out to my HOT '92 Pontiac Bonneville, I saw that a bird had freshly done his business on my windshield. Now, this would not be a problem for any normal person who makes sure that he/she has windshield wiper fluid and doesn't fail to refill it for, oh, 8 months or so after it runs out. However, I am not a normal person. Hence, I had the opportunity to exercise some more by hightailing it into the house for a cup of water and some paper towels, and running back out too, of course (double the fun).
These are all reasons why I can confidently turn down the gym-membership-pushers. Just Say No. (I hope I win the essay contest!)

Broth, luck, and collisions with silence

I just spilled Chili con Limon! Cup O' Noodles broth all over my work desk. And it came about this __ close to infiltrating those hyper-sensitive between-the-key canyons on my keyboard. Ole! and booyah. I am so lucky in life sometimes. (Two weeks ago when I received a barely legible speeding ticket from a speed-trap-happy Po-Po on Biola Avenue? Not one of those times. Last Friday when I lost a contact, and therefore gouged my shin as I splayed my depth-perception-impaired body over a metal bench, attempting to find Ambrose Pizza's rest facilities? Again, not one of those times. *If that last incident sounds funny to you [jerk], you can read about it in more depth on a.m.r.'s blog. Find him in the comments section.)

Second, and unrelated paragraph: Do you have epiphanies? (Holy crap, you might be having one right now because you thought about that question.) Before I go further, I need to clarify that by epiphanies, I'm NOT referring to visions of the Virgin Mary. If you just experienced a vision of the Virgin, you may need more help than I can offer here. Anyway, I haven't had too many epiphanies in my lifetime. This is probably because I am a tad bit A.D.D. and my attention is busy creating more deficits somewhere else by the time the ah-ha moment would've hit me. My overall epiphany-lack is also very likely because I have not been driving my whole life. When I am alone in my car, the only distractions are, well, driving (and who needs that), and crummy radio stations with too many commercials about things I hate, like cosmetic surgery (see previous post).

. . . and you can get the breast enlargement AND the tummy tuck for only SHUT UP! I am trying to have an epiphany here! So the radio is silenced, and I am left with just me, God, and, if I am on Valley View, the nagging ghost of the dread Pirate Starbucks, who always wants me to turn in me hard-earned gold for some chai at his drive-thru window.

Around 12:30 last night, I was barreling down the 91. The Pirate was not nagging me, but God was. During that delightful traffic-free drive home from Norm's, where I'd enjoyed mediocre food and good conversation, God decided to hit me with the significance of the day's interactions with some dear friends. And I had a terribly simple epiphany: that it's okay to be myself. I don't have to be good at everything, or accomplish everything. It's okay to be small, to be one specialized part of the world and the body of Christ, and to fit into the whole. As I thought about this, relief swept through to the edges of my hyperactive, self-critical soul. Bonus - this was not part of the epiphany, but, as part of the whole self-acceptance theme I'd like to say: it's okay to like my body, shin-bruise and all, and to not go for KKLA's tempting cosmetic surgery deal, because, shoot, I can't afford it anyway thanks to my stupid speeding ticket, AND, why would I ever tamper with a body that CLEARLY possesses some of the most amazing hand-eye coordination on the planet. Ole! and booyah.

A real conversation

Scene: Aaron and Amanda are in the middle of an intense conversation (some would say "a fight", but we prefer the term "a growing opportunity")

Amanda: (in a serious voice) "I don't want you to think I'm clueless, or unaware ... "

Aaron: "Umm . . . you have jam on your jacket."

(Hilarity ensues)

It's not about me.

Do you ever think that you're responsible for the emotional ups and downs of your best friends, or your family members, or your significant other? Yeah. Emotional baby-sitting, that's what it should be called. And I do it all the time. I'm so over it. But I don't know how to stop.

I like to take care of people. Being the oldest of five kids has given me a lot of experience in hugging, making special meals for picky eaters, free math tutoring, and yes, babysitting. So I suppose it shouldn't surprise me when I tend to tackle my adult relationships in the same way: I'm the one who will do whatever you need with a smile on my face. But sometimes I can't take care of it all. Sometimes people need help that I can't give, and then I get scared that they'll discover my uselessness.

What if I can't fix everything? What if situations come up that require a real psychologist, a real dietician, an actual math major, a doctor, a pastor, God himself, or someone else who I'm not? What will I do then?

What if I'm not to blame for emotional difficulties in others? What if no matter how good of a friend, or sister, or daughter, or girlfriend I am, those closest to me still struggle with the same things? I guess it means that I'm more out of control than I want to be. I want to make people better. Sometimes I can't, and I get angry. God, my heart needs some rest.