I am sure you have all heard people rant about it being a stupid, invented, Hallmark holiday.  It’s contrived to drive chocolate and greeting card sales, and to make men crazy.  (Yesterday, I popped by the supermarket after work.  Trust me, the frantic men I saw definitely had the crazy-eye!)  It is also horrendously sexist.  The man is supposed to dote on his lady, shower her with gifts proving his affections, and go out of his way to make her feel special.  She, on the other hand, merely sits on her behind, anticipating the adoration of her mate.  Ladies, typically, aren’t the ones to buy the flowers, the teddy bears and the chocolate.  They don’t have to run out and spend an arm and a leg THE DAY BEFORE PAYDAY.  (Which is an evil predicament to put those of us who get paid the middle of the month into.)

Then, of course, there’s the massive suckage that is being single on Valentines day.  I am not single now, but the times that I have been on this rather silly holiday haven’t been great.  It can seem like a never-ending cascade of lovey-dovey couples, whispering sweet nothings and rushing around town.  It’s a day long reminder to the single that they’re as of yet unsuccessful in love.  The worst part might be having to watch someone live out the perfect Valentines Day, the one that companies are busily shilling down our throats, while you gorge yourself on free, Valentines day office chocolates just to numb the emotional pain.  (Just me?)  Single women do not relish watching a co-worker squeal over an oversized bouquet, as they plan tonight’s meal-for-one and wallow in self-pity.  If you are without a partner on February 14th, it might be a good day to stay home and hide with a good book.

Ok, um, upon reading that last bit back to myself, I do apologize.  I did not mean to make it sound like ALL single women are crazy like that, but I think there were times when I was!  But, see, here’s the thing; now I’m NOT single.  And THAT, my friends, is where the confusion comes in…

By all accounts, especially given my feelings about things becoming too commercial, I should in no way be a fan of ‘lots-of-red-hearts’ day.  Love, however, makes people much crazier than being single does.  Even *I* get a little twitterpated at the thought of what Valentines  Day COULD bring.  Even I can get caught up in that media-driven romance fantasy.  I’m not proud, but I sometimes want to be on the receiving end of this sexist, expensive, crap-holiday.  (Guess the bastards got to me, too.)

That stupid day is enough to get me daydreaming, and thinking about all of the things that I love about a certain someone, who knows who he is.  It’s enough to make me want to tell the world how lucky I am.  The truth is, I DO want to celebrate love, I just don’t want all the baggage that comes with big, awkward Valentines day.

I move we have it rescheduled.

I cling to the idea that, supposedly, it will get easier.  One day I will glide effortlessly from bed, and smile and pirouette myself out the door.  For now, the reality rather more curmudgeonly.  (Those who know me prefer to let me sleep, knowing that my immediate response to being roused is rather like that of a bear being poked.)  At the very least, however, my finding my (very sleepy) way not only up, but out the door and at the gym at that ridiculous hour has, I believe, been a source of some amusement for my ‘morning lark’ (read: chipper and unnaturally perky) sister.  The other day, I accidentally kicked over my coffee mid-exercise.  (Yes, the coffee comes to the gym too.)  On a separate occasion, when the gym was quite full, I turned to talk to my sister while on the treadmill, tripped, and saved myself from falling by clinging to the side, in a way which I fear may have screamed ‘n00b’.  I also once failed to realize how loud the music that I had blasting in my ears was, and shouted, when I noticed one of the gym TV’s, “OH LOOK!  IT’S STAR TREK!”

Mishaps and fumblings aside, however, I am doing this.  I have been meeting my sister in the AM the past little while, and sweating in a myriad of new and intriguing ways.  I had thought I was doing well, what with my continued interest in running and stuff, but working with my personal trainer sister is quite an education.

Bitch is tough.

I am very comfortable (most of the time) in the world of yoga mats and treadmills.  I am no stranger to long, slow distance, or to stretching out tired muscles to a little Enya.  Ooooh boy, how things have changed!

Lunges?  We do many.

Ab work?  Hell yes, in ways I hadn’t known existed.

Big ol’ weight plates?  We heft them ’til my hands scream for mercy.  (In fact, I think I need to get those gloves weight-lifters use!  I’m like…legit!)

And then….there’s….TABATA.

TABATA.

Tabata!

Isn’t it a weird word?  Sort of sounds like a combination between a martial art and that delicious bread stuff, ciabatta.  The truth is though, it is most regrettably NOT related to anything carbohydrate-y or buttery, but it does have to do with one’s…er…buns.  (Ha ha!  See what I did there?)

Supposedly, Tabata can raise one’s metabolic rate for 48 hours!  There are studies and everything.  And it’s crazy good cardio.  Aaaaaand you can do it in 4 minutes.  Since I only get an hour in the mornings, every minute counts.  Crazy 4-minute cardio?  Very, very good.  Here’s what you do:  Hop on a treadmill, and set yourself a speed interval.  The bottom speed is a brisk walk.  For me, that’s about 4 miles an hour.  (My sis is faster, but she’s practically a million feet tall.  She doesn’t count.)  The top speed is an all out sprint.  (I was brave enough to try 7.5 last time, but I need to find out what ‘all out’ really is for me.  I am so used to going slowly…I have no idea!)  Anyway, you do your walk for 2 minutes, and then toggle your speed interval.  You bust your butt for 20 seconds.  You go, go, go, like a damn little jack-rabbit.  It should be a killer 20 seconds.  Then, you jump.  Yep, you jump!  Right onto the sides of the treadmill.  You do that so that the speed of the band stays constant.  Wait 10 seconds.  Then you jump back on, and do it again.  You do that cycle (sprint for 20, rest for 10)  eight times, for a time adding up to 4 minutes.

I did two sets of Tabata the other day, and by the end?  I had to say, that was a tough 8 minutes of running!  It does not contain the pleasures of a slow jog down a country road in the sunshine, but it serves our purposes nicely.  We also must look quite amusing, jumping up and down on our treadmills.

Well, it appears that I am up past my bed time again, and my gear for tomorrow still isn’t laid out.  I’m thinking I’d better go and try to catch some zzzzz’s, before there aren’t enough left to catch.  After all, I still really don’t have the knack of 5AM, but between sleep and coffee, I’m aiming to give myself a fighting chance.

Morgana is 9!  9 years old!

Can you even believe that?  Can you believe that nine years ago, I had a crazy Saturday night that involved a child being “untimely ripped” from my womb in a hospital???

(Aren’t I gross?  Seriously, birth was the most shocking, invasive, medical-establishment thing my body has ever gone through, and you would not believe the pain or recovery time.  Ugh.  Unless you’re in the mommy-club!  In which case, you know alllll about it!  Wow, I bet, like, at least a third of you have stopped reading now!)

But, yeah, I had my darling, wonderful, friendly, smiley little girl.  And now she’s 9.

She changed my life, my motivations, my drive to work, and study, and get things done, (as in, I suddenly kinda…had to) and somehow has made things everywhere she has gone…better.

Which she continues to do every day.  Morgana is not only hilarious, but also very comfortable with who she is, very down-to-earth, and very grounded in reality.  She doesn’t mind getting dirty, being ridiculous, or watching documentaries about space and time.  She loves aliens and dinosaurs, and thinks bacon ought to be a vegetable.  (Ok, that last bit is oddly more to Jason’s liking than mine!)

Every day, her smile is my ray of sunshine, and I am eternally grateful.

Here’s a quick update on what I’ve been up to!

As many of you either know, or can probably guess, I am very interested in the pursuit of better health.  Over the years, I believe that I have improved my diet, and my fitness habits.  (Not to say that I don’t eat cake or get lazy…I do!)  Anyway, at this point, I am proud to feel healthy and energetic most of the time.  However, up until recently, I was not sure what my next move would be.  I still have some bad habits (love being up late, still probably eat too much, enjoy a few drinks on the weekend, which can mean some rough mornings!) and I felt the increased need for some kind of…purpose.  I want to push myself harder.

I also want to be able to do a chin-up.

So, my sister wrote me this big email the other day, about how she wants to train for something crazy; a figure competition.  She explained in her email that she could anticipate my thoughts and feelings on the whole thing.  She figured I’d give her hell for it.  Of course, she was right.  I wondered why she’d participate in an event where you are full-on judged based on your body.  I wondered if it was no better than a pageant.  Why do something like that unless you feel you have something to prove?  But then…my curiosity got the better of me and I started asking her real nuts and bolts questions.

Do you run?

What do you eat?

What are the strength work outs like?

How long will it take?

Why do they all look so damn brown?

And, lastly, (and most shockingly, perhaps even to me) Is this something I could do?

Once I listened, I started to see the possibilities.  Possibilities like: bigger, stronger muscles, feeling more balanced, a REASON to sleep, and get up early, motivation to maintain a healthy diet, and maybe, actually, get around to doing that stupid chin up,  I was more on board for a new, empowered adventure.  Especially one I could share with my sister.

Competition is November.  I had my first 6AM work out yesterday.  I’ll let you know how this thing turns out!

Alone and lonely are not the same thing.  I have previously referenced my being loner, and though I love my friends (and family, and wonderful fellow witches, and groovy co-workers) I need, and I take advantage of, lots of down time.  I consider myself very fortunate.  Honestly, I am never lonely.  (I hope that this is not taken as evidence that I am positively mad!)

I am so very ok with being alone, that if the world were up to me, I don’t think I’d have a word for ‘lonely.’  (Weird thought; does anyone else ever wonder that way?  Like, “If the world were all like me, X-thing would never have existed”?)  Anyway, yeah…never lonely.  From what I gather, this is not the state of being that a lot of people are used to.  I don’t think finding my own company amusing makes me better, but I am at least entertained most of the time.  Maybe I can explain why it is that makes it so that loneliness and boredom are relative strangers for me.

I would say one thing that keeps me from too much ennui (such a dramatic word, that) is that I have a long to-do list.  If you can keep a to-do list running, without letting it stress you out (As in, don’t beat yourself up for not getting it all done) then you have a ready list of things to do during any time that you get to yourself.  It’s hard to allow yourself to get really down if you are still supposed to go running, want to get some writing done, and really need to torture yourself with a foam roller later.  The to-do list means that you still have purpose, even if you are outside of work hours.  You will also feel great if you manage to attack a few small projects solo.

Let’s face it though, getting a few hours to yourself late on, say, a Friday night (*sigh* like me, later tonight probably) might NOT make you want to do a bunch of boring work stuff.  My advice? Don’t do something depressing that will make you feel lonely, or bored, or, just, meh.  (Like TV-watching.  So not motivating.)  Get into something that makes you feel positive.  Get a hobby.  Get several.  I will never make money from any of mine, (unless, you, uh, wanna buy a paper crane?) but they’re fun.  Whether it’s diving into a good book, writing a silly poem, or putting together an awesome puzzle with unicorns and lasers on it, (SHOULD EXIST!) everyone needs a pastime.

Then there is also the really bizarre juicy part of being truly alone, and that is actually being truly alone in your own head, without distractions.  Chances are, YOU are a very interesting person.  When was the last time you bothered to explore the neato things that make you ‘you’?  At this time in my life, finally, and after a lot of time, I am mostly comfortable with who I am.  Sure, we at Jenn have our fights, (dear thighs, please go away…) but I think of myself as pretty good to be around, and I generally like who I am.  I still can’t do a single chin-up, and I don’t understand quantum theory, but I’m alright.   

Then, there’s the fact that I have always kind of lived in my own head anyway.  (Wow.  That makes me sound kinda nuts!)  Truthfully though, I am a daydreamer of the highest degree.  Some folks are nice and balanced, some folks need to experience the physical world just to feel a live, and some of us have our own little cozy space carved out within.  I have always been the type to visualize things, or to spend time wondering about all kinds of “what if” scenarios.  I think my best when I am alone with my pen.  I fully admit that while I may not be lonely,  I do need some of the best people in my life to gently remind me of reality from time to time.

Thank God for some of those people too.  Because as cool as I am with being all alone, that doesn’t mean that I don’t sometimes miss people, or enjoy seeing them.  I might be content to hide away, and to enjoy peace and quiet, but I love, sometimes, to be interrupted.  I fully endorse the idea that some days, YOU are the best company you can have, and that you should invest in yourself.  But please, if you’re ever thinking of calling or dropping me a message, don’t allow that to put you off.  Please don’t hesitate, and don’t let my words stop you.  Because while I am awfully, fiercely, stubborn, fully independent, and happy to pair up my socks on a Friday night, sometimes it’s nicer being alone with company.

I had always been pretty healthy.  I didn’t cope will with hurting so much,  and I wasn’t used to being an agony-bag.  I also felt that I was way too young to have to deal with always feeling old and achey.  I was unwilling to accept this as some new, permanent part of my life.  I also felt that popping pills just to feel ok was not quite where I wanted to be.  Unsure of what to do, I decided to visit a chiropractor.

I was skeptical.  This was not helped by the fact that the Chiropractor turned out to be rather a tiny woman.  What could she possibly do for (then 200 lb.) me?  I didn’t really know what to expect, but this smallish lady was completely able to make my back pop in crack in the most startling of ways.  Afterwards though?  I felt better.  Much better.  I became a regular, and my pain all but disappeared. 

I am deeply grateful for that initial success in my explorations of alternative therapy.  I am grateful not simply because I didn’t have to take anything anymore to live without pain, but also because this first experience paved the way for my growing interest in alternative health.

Slowly but surely, I got curious about other approaches.  I tried massage therapy.  (My sister has since become an awesome massage therapist!)  My take?  EVERYONE needs massage therapy, and, certainly, as a runner and desk-monkey, I get the occasional knot that needs to be forcefully pounded out of my body. :) (I prefer athletic massage to the spa-like relaxation variety.)  I also tried Healing Touch, Reiki and Energy Medicine, all of which I have thoroughly enjoyed.  (The last of these was particularly special; I even went as far as working through 5 levels of Energy medicine training, but that’s a different story!)

Finally, I found myself in the office of a Naturopath.

Naturopathy, I have found, is utterly fascinating.  It’s an entirely holistic approach to health.  I admit that I don’t fully understand it, but I have gone for a few sessions, and I already like the changes that I’m seeing.  The particular Naturopathic doctor whom I see also has training in accupuncture, nutrition, and as a lifestyle coach.  (I guess that means that her approach is REALLY, REALLY holistic!)  Through her, I have received advice on diet, supplements, relaxation, self-confidence, anxiety, my running, and even one session with accupunture needles in my feet and arms.  The naturopath is perfectly capable of taking me from hyperactive and anxiety-ridden to calm and centered, with a good grasp of where to aim next.  I don’t always follow her advice the way that I should, but I certainly feel a positive difference when I do.

I was very lucky.  One great experience has led me toward so many more.  I am happy to have found myself on such an empowered path to health.  However,  I know that some otheres haven’t been quite so lucky.  Please don’t abandon hope on alternative therapies!  Certainly, just as there are bad doctors, there are quack therapists!  Everyone always hears about the chiropractor who snaps someone the wrong way, or a yoga instructor who forces someone too deeply into a pose.  Clearly, credentials and track records matter, and anyone looking into a new therapy should be sure to do their homework.  With that in mind, I would still urge anyone to try out a new, complimentary approach to healthy living this year.  (Resolution, anyone?)  There’s so very much available beyond the mainstream, and, after all,  isn’t it all about living the best life possible?   

“Namaste”, as I understand it, is sort of  like the big, overarching cosmic word for “Don’t Panic.”  (If you’re not quite following, read The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.)  After all, Namaste when used as a greeting to that thing inside us that gives us tremendous power, it reassures us that we are all spiritual creatures.  It makes sure that we know that we’re in this mess together.  It’s like a wink and a nod from the soul of the universe.  It’s a huge and vast acknowledgement; soul to soul.  And it’s all in one word. It is also much catchier than a Christian version I heard once, at Bible camp.  It was, I kid you not, “the Jesus in me loves the Jesus in you.”  (Namaste is also at least a little better at NOT making you sound like a loony, or making you picture a long-haired fellow running around inside you.)

Really though, I do love this word.  It could perhaps even replace my earlier big love for the word “everything.”  (Dunno why really.  Maybe it’s something spiritual about how big and all-inclusive. and silly and simple the word “everything” is?)  And I love the word “everything”  a lot.   (Random thought:  Who invented italics?  What a great idea that was.  I need lots of italics!!!!!)  Anyway, good night, and…

Namaste!

 I don’t know where it started, but now I’m fully pro-gingerbread, sparkles, and Christmas hymns played upon the harp.

Is it the sweets that I can’t resist, even if I know how bad they are for me?

Is it the general, prevalent feeling of love and peace that even affects the curmudgeons I know?

Is it the okay-ness of a dash of Bailey’s in one’s Java at 2 in the afternoon over the Christmas season?

Is it the awesomeness of everyone celebrating Pagan rituals under the guise of them being hallowed ”Christmas” traditions?

It’s all that and more!  At this point, I’m fairly bursting at the seams!  I want to be wrapping gifts, singing “Joy to the World,” sipping hot cocoa, and worshipping the gradual return of sunlight to the earth ALL AT ONCE!  I want to tell all of the strangers at the supermarket that I LOVE THEM, and have it not be weird!  I wanna smooch all of my friends and relations under the mistletoe!

Well, maybe not that last part, but I really do turn half-foolish this time of year.  (Ok, three-quarters foolish, as I am halfway there year-round!)  I was practically shaking in my bed last night, anticipating that today is the 23rd of December, and unable to sleep from excitement!

I don’t have a lot to write about here, to be honest.  I just want to share my unbridled excitement with you guys.  I mean, holy doodle!  It’s festive Yuletide time!  Plus, around, here, the 23rd is extra-special!  Today’s a neato day you guys may or may not know about;  today is Tibbs eve!

“What the rum-drenched fruitcake,” you may be asking, “is Tibb’s Eve?”  Honestly, I’m not entirely sure.  It’s spelled “Tibbs,” “Tibs,” Tips,” or “Tipps.”  It is a Newfoundland tradition of sorts, and the name may or may not be connected to the word “Tipsy,” and a tradition of going door-to-door tasting your neighbour’s brew.   Tibbs Eve always occurs on the eve of Christmas eve, and the 23rd has become a fun adult drinkin’ holiday around these parts.  As for myself?  I fully intend to participate with my lovely sister, a scatter friend or two, and my wonderful Jason. 

Yes, of course, I celebrated Yule as well, but that celebration was much more of a quiet, personal (non-drinkin’) ritual.  It was very small-scale, and very meaningful.  I am a very fortunate Pagan, and I am well-pleased with to take this time of year and fully experience the gratitiude of how fortunate I am.

There are benefits to being a Pagan Newfoundlander at Christmas…I can legitimately have a hand in celebrating Yule, Christmas, and Tibbs!  What can I say?  My life is full of festive winning!

Now I’ve just got to figure out how to dress in a way that says “I’m a cool, rockin’ lady, but I LOVE GLITTER, CHRISTMAS AND FOOTIE PYJAMAS” for the festivities tonight…

Sure, I’m weird, that goes without saying, and that tends to make some people reject you.  I dye my hair funny colours, tease it to within an inch of it’s life, and sometimes stick a giant fake rose in it.  I love to subject my office-mates to epic heavy metal involving dwarves.  My hobbies include origami and playing didgeridoo badly on the back deck.  Nonetheless, being a weirdy alone doesn’t make the world not wanna be your friend. Look around.  There is an easy 2 or 3 percent of the population who are just a little extra off-kilter. (We’re here!  We’re weird!  Get used to it!)

I think that all my life I’ve kind of pushed people away though.  Fear of rejection could do that maybe, or perhaps being used to maintaining a protective bubble.  Personally, I don’t know why I might do that, but I do. I try to keep my distance, and I worry that people won’t like me.  And yet…

Yet there you are, even when I fail to return your calls, or ever email anyone back, or reply on facebook.  There you are, when I cancel a million dates at the goddamn last minute.  There you are, when I manage to ruin the party by getting upset, or by becoming overly depressing.  There you all are, when I feel like no one should be there, at all.  Look, I suck at reaching out, but you, my friends, you do not.

For that, I am more grateful than you can possibly imagine.

For Jeremy, who never ever, not even once, forgot my birthday, (or Morgana’s, or Christmas, or Easter…) I can’t even begin to express my thanks.  You were there when I cried so many times, or freaked out, or busted another computer (they oughta be indestructible!) or ignored you forever.

For Stacey, who has always believed in every dream I ever had, and was sunshine and roses when I could have almost hated the world, who would I even be without you?  You are an extra sister, and so much more than an ordinary friend.

For my dear dear sister, whom I simultaneously, and very confusingly hate and love,  (hatefully adore?  Bah, whatever, come over for drinks!) you are my twin, my competitor, an amazing friend, my idol and my most fierce motivation.  Your inner fire leaves me astounded, and sometimes?  In the dust.  (Making me stronger, when I get up again of course!)

For Jason, who keeps giving more to me and my life than I would have thought anyone possibly could, which deity was it I made proud in a past life?  How the hell did I get you into my life?  You keep my feet on the ground, and my energy from boiling over.  You teach me to appreciate my home life, comfort, and the value of slowing down.  You keep me from residing solely in my head, and, miraculously, you hug me when I’m angry, and…it works.

For Paul, who is a laugh and more than a half, I am so glad there is someone who makes more ridiculous faces than I do in the office.  It is so cool to get to get stuff done with you, and call it work.  I cannot wait for you to have another party.  You keep your merkin in check, and things will be just fine.

For the rest of my fantastic workmates, who are so patient and kind, even if I am a mad woman, how have I been this fortunate?  If I had been put in a cubicle somewhere, I would have wilted.  Instead, I get to learn about the value of my roots from Melanie, the power of being a source of love and affection every day from Nicole, the value of a good day’s work, being a self-starter, and keeping a level-head from Ryan, (fart noises not withstanding) and now I even get to know someone whom I already would consider I friend; Sandi.  Once I step outside of the office, my work life consists of some of the most diverse and fascinating individuals I’ve ever seen gathered in one place.  Many of those people have been nothing but kind to me.  I can’t help but love them for that.

For Renee, whom I never see, which is a shame, how the hell do you put up with me?  You are so flippin’ cool, and fun, and loyal and kind.  You also have been known to push people my their faces, and rescue me from men working at hot dog carts.  You are a saint with an attitude, and I really admire your tenacity.  You are also a more voracious reader than I am, and I think that’s the coolest thing in the world.

For Shove-on (ha ha!), you are proof that friends can come from the most unexpected places.  I do not meet many female friends, and I think it’s really awesome you wanna be mine.  I cannot promise I will call nearly enough, but yes, I always want to hang out, get into trouble, paint the town red, and make the boys cry.  We can do it, too.

For all of these people, and soooo gosh-darn many others, I am eternally grateful, gradually learning, and truly in love with your spirits and minds.  I am lucky.  I never wanted friends, but they always found me!  I know I take a while to get to know, and that I sometimes disappear, and need a lot of alone time, but, somewhere in my loner heart, way down there, I wish I could tell you how much I care.

Hell, maybe I did.

Last night was different.  Last night…I did it.  Everything.  Done.  My whole ‘to-do’ list for the day.  I tidied up.  I did a strength workout.  I did yoga.  I made a craft.  I wrote a letter.  I did some reading I wanted to do.  I wrote a bit.  Wow.

I don’t want to believe that this has anything to do with not checking texts, BBM’s, and perusing Twitter.  I want to believe that I could do the same on any other night, but…I don’t think I typically can.  I think I’m actually more productive without my phone.

Which is, by the way, complete and utter shit.  I LOVE my phone, and it loves ME and it NEEDS ME, and I MUST have it!!!!

I did start thinking about this last night, and as I was working on a decoration for the Christmas decorating contest at work, a thought struck me: it’s really hard jumping from one thing to another.  That’s what I find myself doing with my phone all the time, too.  If I hear it ding, I check the message, taking myself out of whatever the task at hand is.  Once I have done that, I return to the task at hand, and must take a second or two to reorient myself.  I’m no super-genius, but I think that results in a LOT of wasted time.

Another kinda weird thing I’m noticing is…I don’t get that many non-work emails.  I had this idea that I did, and that I am buried under messages in my inbox.  I do get a bit of junk (which seems no big deal to delete when I do actually, purposefully log in), but not a lot else.  My email has not gone insane and exploded since I lost my phone.  I am not that popular, which is a let down.  And not one, NOT ONE, of my Twitter followers seems to be looking for me.  Ouch.    Honestly, I don’t think anything really awful is going to happen if I continue to not have my phone.  The sky is not falling.

I remember never wanting a phone when it originally became the thing to do.  Too intrusive.  Who needs to find me 24/7?  I’m not a doctor, or a drug dealer!  But, like just about everyone, I got lured too.  They’re cool.  Innovative.  Neat-o.  You can have the world in the palm of your hand and always have whatever tech you could ask for within reach.  But, now that I’m spending a little time without, I’m wondering…was I wrong to heed that siren call?  Do I really need a phone?  Am I a better person without one?  Apparently, without distractions it is easier to hop on the treadmill, focus on things I need to do, and be really engaged in totally human interaction.  Maybe I can use this as a springboard, and begin a journey into progressively more natural living.  Maybe someday I can be fully ‘off the grid’, not tracked by the government, raise my own food, and shun the world of consumerism.

I still miss Twitter though.