How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?

I went to the gym today and remembered that I was supposed to weigh myself before working out (I got this whole lecture from my trainer on when to weigh yourself and how many days from your cheat day to do this and that and yadda yadda yadda). So I hop off the step mill and onto the scale. WTF?! I GAINED 2 pounds??? All the calorie counting and working out has done NOTHING? I get off the scale and walk back over to the step mill. At this point, I can't figure out if I want to cry or simply rage. I settle for mind numbing stair climbing.

My legs start to burn at the 15 minute mark so I head over to the elliptical. That's when I start thinking about those 2 pounds. 2 pounds. 2 pounds. 2 pounds. It loops in my mind as I sweat it out. I flag down the GTM and tell him about those 2 pounds. He tells me not to worry about them, saying I look like I'm losing inches which is more important than weight. Another trainer makes a sarcastic remark which successfully puts things into perspective and makes me laugh (2 birds with one stone). So I finish my workout feeling a little bit better.

I leave the gym and head over to Alice's. As I'm driving, I let my mind wander. I think about all the fun things I've missed out on because I'm constantly working or studying or being responsible (Example: "No, I can't stay out late because I have work/school/responsibilities that night/the next morning".). I could have gone to the beach today. I could have hung out last night with a friend who was leaving to go back to Seattle who I won't see for several months. But no. I had work.

I just need a moment to rant. I'm so over working. I really am. I'm not even doing what I really want to do, either. I'm doing something I'm good at so I can have money to support myself, money to reach my goals. I have this dream and I want it so bad I can see it, touch it. But I'm so sick of having no life outside of that dream.

Is there such a thing as being too driven or too goal oriented? Like, is there a point at which it becomes too much?

I guess it depends on the goal, right?

I mean, I've never done things the easy way. I could have been a teacher. I had myself convinced that's what I wanted to be for a while. But no. 3 years of college and I switch majors. I switch from Liberal Studies to Kinesiology. And then I move from Kinesiology to Firefighter Paramedic. No, I didn't take the easy way out.

I will always remember my dad telling me to choose to do something I love. "If you are doing something you love, it won't feel like work," he'd say. And it's true. So is the drive worth it? Is it worth missing out on the cliched experiences the majority of those in their 20's go through?

That's what I was asking myself on the drive from Escondido to Oceanside. For a little bit, I had even begun to plan my pity party for this evening. It involved crying and some form or another of Dane Cooks "I did my best" bit. However, upon arrival at Alice's, I had to push the pity party back. I had work to do, per usual.

That brings us to this current moment. I'm lying on the bed in the room I stay in ("my" room... for the weekend, at least) writing this blog. Looking back over my past blogs, they all seem to have a common thought process. It starts out with me whining about something that happened, then I move on to whining about how much my life sucks, then I move on to talking about how badly I want to be a FireMedic. It usually ends with me making a statement about how lucky/grateful/blessed I am. Why can't I just skip all the melodrama and just be lucky/grateful/blessed?

Eh, who knows. I suppose it's OK to have these moments as long as I don't let them overwhelm me and take over.

This is not forever. This is not permanent. Sure I don't get to see my friends or family as often as I'd like. Sure I can't afford to take road trips or vacations. Sure I feel like I am one of the most boring people you will ever meet. But this is not forever. This is not permanent.

I think it's time to accept my fate. I work hard. I like to go to bed early. I like to wake up early. I like to workout and be pushed past my limit. I like being responsible. I don't know why I start to wonder about the other life I could have led when it's obvious this is the one I was meant to live.

On another note, exciting news! My brother and I found an apartment! We move in a week! I also applied to several ambulance companies. Now the waiting game begins. Hopefully I'll be working as an EMT in the next month or so. *fingers crossed*

Perhaps it's time to end this long, run-on sentence of a blog. I often wonder how much sense I actually make in this thing. Probably not much. But that's OK. At least my head is clear. It's time to go back to taking it one day at a time. Or even one hour at a time. And at this time, I am looking forward to sleep. Yay for sleep!

Skinny Jeans:

And by "skinny jeans" I mean the jeans you keep in your closet that are a size or two smaller than what you normally wear that you're saving for when you lose weight. You know, those skinny jeans?

Well, I have a suitcase of skinny clothes, most just a size down from where I was when I decided to remove them from my sight about a year ago. Nothing depresses me quite like a closet full of clothes that are too small.

Lately, I've been having trouble finding things to wear simply because nothing fits like it used to. Granted, I tend to like my clothes to be on the tighter side (Andrea has dubbed me The Tight Monster), but I can handle it when things are a bit baggy. However, the jean situation I'm in is ridiculous! Example: I can now pull off all of my favorite jeans without unbuttoning/unzipping them. I work with children. Do you know how awful it is to be carrying a 3 year old and have a four year old pull on your pants, only to have them slide right off??  

Well, Sarah, why don't you wear a belt?

I asked myself that very question. So I went into my closet in search of a belt. I love my Seven jeans and want to continue wearing them, I just don't need any trouble with the law when I do wear them ("public indecency" anyone?). This is when I find out that not only are all but one or two of my belts too big, but wearing them with baggy jeans makes me look and feel even bulkier than before. Great. Excellent. Superb.

That's when it hit me.

The Skinny Suitcase! Yes! Surely I can wear some of my skinny clothes!

So I throw open my closet doors, grab said Skinny Suitcase and throw it on the bed (and I totally swung it up there with ease. Thanks trainers!). I open the suitcase and find not one, not two, not three, but FOUR pairs of jeans! I felt like I won the poor-college-student-whose-clothes-don't-fit lottery. At this point, I start to feel giddy. I find my favorite "flirt" and "sweetheart" jeans from Old Navy and a few pairs from Andrea (skinny ho-bag. But thanks for your clothing!).

This is the bittersweet part of the story. My "flirt" jeans no longer fit. My Kenneth Cole button up jeans (love them) slip right off. The "sweetheart" jeans are still a tad snug, as are one of the pairs from Andrea, but this is reassuring. I'll have at least one pair of jeans for the next couple of pant sizes down.

Even my favorite workout pants are too baggy to wear. I discovered this in the middle of a session when I was doing this odd plank-walking-hands thing and halfway through each set, my pants would sink dangerously low (very gangsta-like, which is fitting of my gangsta-ness, but very unattractive).

I have decided that I am going to look at this positively. It is a good problem to have. And luckily, it's summer time. I can get away with wearing dresses and skirts and bathing suits (oh warm weather, how I love thee).

I have also decided that tomorrow it's back on the calorie-counting bandwagon. It's funny. A couple of days ago, I got a mini-lecture about my eating habits (again). And of course, the rebellious, eff-you part of me allowed the more sensible part of me to be led astray and the evenings have been a little "binge-y" around my neck of the woods. But binge-y no more, I say! Tomorrow is a new day!

On another note, I made the worlds most fantastic chocolate chip cookies. They are perfect. Chewy, but not too chewy. Just chocolate chippy enough to rock my world. Before I go to bed tonight, I'm going to figure out how many calories are in each cookie. The recipe says it yields 60 cookies. Yeah, right. What are they, the size of quarters?? I got 28 cookies out of that recipe. I'm guessing each cookie is about 350 calories. We shall found out later tonight. I've been baking a lot lately. I'm trying to get my cooking/baking skills up to par so when I finally make it into a fire station, I'll be able to make decent meals for my "coworkers".

Also, this evening has been a fantastically productive evening musically. A lil' Brandy, some Lil' Jon, some 3oh!3, some Taio Cruz, some David Nail, a few top 40 lists. I love having new music. It makes me actually want to get up in the morning and go to work. I also get to lay down some new car dancing moves. It makes traffic fun. "Oh man, that red mini van has already seen that move. Time to bust out a new one!" Yeah, that's how I roll.

You know what's stressful? Trying to find a new job and an apartment at the same time. Especially when your housemate is being no help at all, except for offering criticism when I suggest an apartment (and let me tell you, there's nothing constructive about this criticism). 

I'm thinking it's time for me to wrap up this here blog post and hit the showers. Well, tub, actually. A good long soak in a tub of hot water is just what this body of mine needs. I have a busy weekend of packing, studying and cooking ahead of me.