Blah.
I want it to be warm enough so that I can start living outside. Maybe I should move somewhere warmer. Like right on the Equator. That should make me happy.
I need to start running again. This week, I am going to run every day. I’m hoping that I can start running outside with someone. I want a running partner. Anyone.  Anywhere. At this point, beggars can’t be choosers. I’ll run with anyone who wants to keep up.
This working six days a week thing can’t last much longer. I’ve got to ask for a day off or I think I might start screaming at people. Everyone who works out in the yard may work six to seven days a week, but sitting here in the office and answering the phone and talking to really unintelligent customers is not really ideal for someone who went to a four year college and runs seven miles a day. It makes me want to tear my hair out. On a good day. Bad days are a completely different story.
But, I noticed that I have ab definition. And muscles. Working out is definitely worth it. I want to be able to lift twenty five pounds without struggling like it was seven times my body weight. It’s sort of embarrassing that I can barely carry my laundry basket around my house when it’s full. More strength. More weights. More personal training sessions.
Speaking of personal training sessions, I have been invited to one with adorable boy by my friend who is already his client. I really can’t decide if I want to or not. Taking his class is already stressful enough with five other women, who take the attention off of me. I don’t want to imagine a two-on-one training session where I’ll get half of his attention. I like being mysterious. I don’t want him to get to know me. What if he won’t like me? What if he’ll find me annoying? What if he already finds me annoying? He’s so nice that I cannot figure out if I bother him or not. I mean, I barely talk to him but what if he thinks I’m just some silly twenty two year who isn’t worth a second thought? I really ruminate about this too much. 

The sun disguises,
The leftover winter wind
In warm, yellow rays.

Thursdays.
I hate Thursdays.
He’s really cute. Too cute.
“What, no book today?”
“Nope, I finished it.”
“That’s impressive. I even have trouble with Dr. Seuss books.”
Maybe I just want to be his friend. I can’t really figure it out and I’m not trying very hard. I spend a great deal of my time waiting for things to happen instead of making them happen on my own. I’m very indecisive. I hate that. But, I’ll probably never change.
Speaking of things that won’t ever change, my eating habits have since gotten weirder. If that’s possible. I’m binging and fasting. It’s hasn’t made a difference in my energy level as far as I can tell and I’m noticing that I have more muscle as of late. Perhaps on the days that I eat more, my body has the protein to make muscle. This is what I tell myself after I eat three pieces of pizza for dinner. But, as long as I’m not gaining a significant amount of weight, I think I’m all right. We’ll see.
Hey. At least this entire post is not dedicated to my stalking.

Drips of sweat falling
Onto the blue yoga mat.
It’s so disgusting.

I am awake and I am at work. I am hoping to get through the day without any casualties.
Seriously, no one can take me anywhere.
I get hit on at work. I get hit on at the gym. I get hit on walking around my neighborhood. I get hit on in bars. I get hit on via phone calls. I get hit on in restaurants. I get hit on while on a train. I get hit on in the rain, with a fox, in a box, with a mouse, in a house. I get hit on here and there. I get hit on everywhere. 
The attention is nice, but honestly. Please. Why can’t the attractive ones like me? I always get the weirder ones. 
Maybe it’s because I am a weirder one…
All I want is the adorable boy at the gym. That’s it. Just that one. So far, he’s turning out to be exactly the way he was in my head before I started taking his class and it’s just getting worse and worse. And I’m shy, so I pretend to be coy and mysterious which probably just translates to uninterest and unfriendly-ness. I wish I was outgoing and charming, but I’m not. I’m quiet, awkward, annoying, arrogant, self-deprecating, tired, restless, moody, opinionated, nerdy, immature, and usually crazy. I probably don’t possess any of the qualities he likes in girls and I’m probably not even close to his type, but every day, there I am at the gym, staring at him and hoping he doesn’t think I’m some stalker. 
What am I becoming. I never really grew up.

Once upon a time,
It was so sunny and warm.
But now it is cold.

Weather haikus. Learn to love them.

I’m not sure how I feel.
I mean, aside from my allergies being back with aggression, I feel sort of…gray. Kind of like the sky today. 
I’ve been doing the same thing for about a year now and I don’t think I really could handle another one. This monotonous lifestyle may be easy but it’s not fun. Or exciting. Definitely not fulfilling. I feel like I talk about how bored I am on a regular basis and I understand that it’s my fault that I’m unhappy. It’s up to me to fix it. I have the power. 
So, why do I feel helpless?
The other day, my boss’s wife called me “sweetie” in a really condescending way. I’m still offended by it. I know she probably didn’t realize how inappropriate it was to call a twenty two year old employee of her husband’s by a pet name she probably calls her fifteen year old daughter, but I still am seething over it. I have a theory that since I look young, people treat me as such, even if they know I’m older. It’s like they look at me and because I’m not wearing makeup and my chest is considerably smaller than it used to be, I get defaulted to teenager status. They could know me for years and still they talk to me like I’m a child. It’s really frustrating because I feel like I act younger because others see me that way. So, I conform and regress because people hold me to a lower standard since I don’t look my age. It’s not fair. And I’m really tired of it.
Although, maybe people see me as younger because I don’t feel like an adult. It’s like a big circle of cause and effect and I can’t figure out the beginning. Either way, it makes me feel like I can’t solve my own problems.
And we’re back to boring and restless.

Tick, tock, four o’clock,
It never comes fast enough.
So I keep staring.

My haikus need practice clearly.

Saturday.
He added me on Facebook.
And I’m pretty sure I almost passed out.
What is wrong with me? As he said, “This is just some guy at the gym that you have a crush on. It’s not set up to be some epic love story.” He’s right. It’s not going to be anything special. Or even anything at all.
It’s just a crush.
I’ve had them before and I’m sure this won’t be my last. So, I really need to cool it and focus on more important things like getting a new job and applying to graduate schools and taking the GRE and scheduling deliveries for tomorrow and getting more muscles and tanning for the summer and not staring at Facebook and not waiting for him to sign on and not staring at his name until it disappears.
Priorities. 
Obsessing is unhealthy. But I have to say it’s a very nice distraction from responsibility. With that being said, I really should get back to work. It’s finally busy.

Answering phone calls
And waiting on customers.
I hate my routine.

Haikus. I missed them.

It’s coming on summer. The trees have buds. The daffodils are coming up around mailboxes. And they’re playing those whiny rock-pop songs on the radio. Oh, I wish I had a river I could skate away on.
It was eighty degrees outside and not even near Christmas at all, but I found myself listening to that song as I was driving home yesterday. It’s such a sad song and really not about Christmas. I wonder she means. She, being Joni Mitchell. A lot of her songs are like that. “‘It’s cloud illusions I recall, I really don’t know clouds at all.’ What does that mean? Is she a pilot? Is she taking flying lessons? It must be a metaphor for something, but I don’t know what it is.” I feel that way about Joni Mitchell. Also about Walt Whitman, but that’s another story.
But, I listen to those songs and I read those poems and I feel like even though I’m not consciously aware, they affect me and I’m better off with it than without it. I like to think of it as furthering my emotional education even if I don’t understand half of the words. I don’t know if it’s osmosis or something else – just reading it seems to help. And it gets me through rainy, cold days that much faster.
Although this song really isn’t about Christmas, it does very nicely as a Christmas song. I think it has something to do with love and loss and even though it’s Christmas and the season of giving, some people find that it really isn’t giving at all. And that can make the holidays seem so gray. Maybe that’s what Joni Mitchell is trying to say.
“I’m so hard to handle, I’m selfish and I’m sad. Now I’ve gone and lost the best baby that I ever had. Oh, I wish I had a river I could skate away on.”
Happy spring.

Another day, another fist bump.
During his class yesterday, a woman asked him what his last name was. Of course, I was thinking, “Oh, oh! I know, I know! Pick me! I’ve known his name for months!” Alas, I kept quiet. Maybe my maturity level is increasing. I will be twenty three in a little less than two months. It’s about time.
Twenty three. It would be exciting if I felt like I was going anywhere in life. I feel stuck somehow and with every day, I feel like I’m just getting more and more lost. I can’t decide whether it’s this living at home in limbo or the fact that I’m working at this dead end job at almost minimum wage, but the fact remains: I need change. I’ve thought about what I want and I just can’t figure it out. Maybe I want too much. I know what I don’t want. 
As per my proclamation of participation, I think it’s getting better. I do need to work on eye contact. I’ve always thought that perhaps I have some form of autism, but that’s never been professionally diagnosed. I could just be significantly socially awkward. I mean, I am really awkward. It could be worse, though. It can almost always be worse.
I was amused yesterday when we were going outside for his class and I held the door open for him. He’s very nice. A gentleman, even. I’m afraid that he’s not how I imagined him, though.
He’s better.
And that was what I was afraid of.

It is seventy five degrees outside and I am officially wearing shorts in the office. I have declared spring. Summer. Sprummer.
The weather is giving me all of this extra energy and I found myself wanting to take two walks yesterday. But, it’s almost too warm. I started sweating and I hadn’t even been jogging. So, I called it quits after one round, but I ate outside. I think that serves as a decent compromise.
I’ve been training with a personal trainer at the gym for a few weeks now. I don’t know if it’s because I’m stubborn or too regimented in my routine, but I find it difficult to adhere to what this trainer believes I should be doing. According to him, no Butterfingers and less carbohydrates. Less chocolate, less bread. I know I should be “healthier” and I recognize that white bread and milk chocolate have little value when it comes to protein. However, in order to complete my crazy cardio, I find that I need those items to get through my workout. I guess I should give it a try, though. I’ll adjust. I really do need more muscle, seeing as I can barely lift fifteen pounds. It’s pathetic. I’m working on it.
I was reading on the treadmill, not looking up, avoiding eye contact. I thought it was going well when other guy went over to talk to someone else. But, that was short-lived. He came over to me and asked me about my life. I really don’t understand this. I think I’m sending out the right signals… Then again, maybe not. 
It would be nice to read minds. I think of this often, especially when I scan the gym from my machine and make eye contact with adorable boy. I really hope he doesn’t know how excited I am about our future life together. That would spoil the surprise.
Also, I’m tired of working six days a week and I’ve only been doing it for two weeks. I want two days at least. Not one. One is not enough.

“Hey, how you guys doin’?”
I get too excited about it.
Finally, the weather is starting to change from cold and wet to warm and dry. Today the temperature is supposed to reach the mid-seventies and I am actually looking forward to my twenty minute walk with the next door neighbor’s dog. It’s been too windy lately and any time I spend outside is rushed so I don’t have to feel the Canadian freeze that had decided to make its new home here in Maryland. But, at least it seems to be moving out today.
Maybe I’ll start running outside. And maybe I’ll start running by his house, which I located sometime Friday evening. Something must be really wrong with me if I think roaming around the streets, trying to find his car, is perfectly normal. If he found out, I may or may not have a restraining order taken out against me. I really need to cool it. 
I take comfort in the fact that I have now given him a reason to talk to me.

“Dreams like a podcast,
Downloading truth in my ears.
They tell me cool stuff.”

Sadly, I am not the one who came up with that haiku.
So. If other guy insists on continually acknowledging me at the gym instead of ignoring me like I’d prefer, I’m going to snub him. It’s easier to just not make eye contact, but he has progressed to walking by me and calling my name. So, I have decided. I’m not going to wave and smile back. I’m going to be curt. And terse. And frown. I’m not okay with this I’m-not-the-bad-guy-as-I-still-talk-to-you-like-a-friend crap that he only does to ease his own guilt. Stop it. I’m mean.
My theory is that if he thinks I am angry with him, it’ll probably bother him because he obviously cares enough to try to be friendly. Maybe by ignoring him, it’ll make everything go away.
Or maybe not.
Either way, I hope that my plan will eventually stop him from talking to me. 
Now that I’ve spoken with the adorable boy, I don’t even want to think about other guy. On Monday, I wonder if he’ll talk to me. 
I hope he talks to me.
And so begins my Friday afternoon pining. Welcome.