In my "younger" days, in high school, I was very active. I wrestled, ran XC and track. I wasn't obsessed with my weight (unless you count wrestling season!!) and it stayed around 150-160 pounds. No matter what I did or did not do. I did not put weight on. God Bless the metabolism of a highly active 17 year old boy. Even after high school, I wasn't super active but my weight stayed around 160-165 until i was about 23. I would laugh at my friends who put on some weight and say it would never happen to me, boy was i wrong...
As previously stated, I lived with a young woman for about 2 years of my life. Things were good and we were doing ok and so was my weight. Well we started to hit our rough patch and in about 5 months I was up to 260-275! Without even thinking about it. Apparently light beer is not so light, SHOCKING.
I did not know what to do and I was miserable. So instead of sitting behind a computer for a summer, I went to work for a landscaping company and by the end of that summer I was down to about 220. My weight as stayed there for about a year. 220 seemed to fit me well. My 36 inch waist was just fine for me. I didnt worry about my weight and just let life happen....
I stepped on a scale for the first time in about 3 months and my weight (fully dressed with shoes) was 206? 206. 206! I am hovering at the 200 lb mark for the first time in about 3 years and it feels really good. I put on my belt today and began to tighten it....the very last notch was still a bit loose.
Why I am telling you guys this? I have no clue, but I am just shocked about my weight. I blew past 200 years ago and never thought I would come close to sniffing it again...well hello 200 pounds!
Friday, December 12, 2008
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Shaving
first off....boo.
second, i will tell you a story, it is a great story. About a young man and his beard.
He was 18, fresh out of high school and was heading down to the beach with a few of friends. All of the basic needs were covered, food, check, toothbrush, check, enough booze to kill a small village, check. swimsuit and 2 other pair of random shorts, check. The group got down to Ocean City, Maryland and the booze flowed like water. There were a few women, like cute blond steph :), there were fun times in the water, with cute blond steph...HOWEVER, there was no razor...not a single one. 7 guys and single one of them decided to bring a bic! As the week wore on, they all had their facial hair start to grow in...one being the the greatest of all. You see he had dark hair...and yet his beard was a golden red...
...So the legend was born. A beard, no...THE GOLDEN BEARD was born. The golden beard and the young man attached to THE GOLDEN BEARD knew all the power they had, they just had no clue on how to harness that power. Until a summer he spent working at a summer adventure camp. The young man decided to just let the beard grow. AND DID IT EVER. It was gold and it was long(-ish) and it itched, ALOT. But he wore it with pride. Then came another turning point, not as great as finding out about THE GOLDEN BEARD, but life changing now the less...
The young man realized he could manscape that beard into any design he would like. He could manipulate that fur on his face to make greatness. And he did. HE LOVED IT. He loved growing a big pushbroom mustache or a huge walrus stache. The handle bars or the hitler. He wore them all...and they all loved AWFUL...but he wore them with such pride...until today.
Today, he had about a months beard on his face. and he began to shave...he took all be a basic mustache. It was beautiful. It was darker gold then in his younger days, but still golden. The golden stache. And he sent a text message to his lovely lady friend...to see what she thought...and she called him and said they would not talk until the stache was removed. So..
...sorry golden stache...you will come and go, but I cant grow her once every two weeks and mold her the way i like...she is a one shot deal.
So here i sit, freshly and cleanly shaven...i feel so young and so not hairy and very very sad
second, i will tell you a story, it is a great story. About a young man and his beard.
He was 18, fresh out of high school and was heading down to the beach with a few of friends. All of the basic needs were covered, food, check, toothbrush, check, enough booze to kill a small village, check. swimsuit and 2 other pair of random shorts, check. The group got down to Ocean City, Maryland and the booze flowed like water. There were a few women, like cute blond steph :), there were fun times in the water, with cute blond steph...HOWEVER, there was no razor...not a single one. 7 guys and single one of them decided to bring a bic! As the week wore on, they all had their facial hair start to grow in...one being the the greatest of all. You see he had dark hair...and yet his beard was a golden red...
...So the legend was born. A beard, no...THE GOLDEN BEARD was born. The golden beard and the young man attached to THE GOLDEN BEARD knew all the power they had, they just had no clue on how to harness that power. Until a summer he spent working at a summer adventure camp. The young man decided to just let the beard grow. AND DID IT EVER. It was gold and it was long(-ish) and it itched, ALOT. But he wore it with pride. Then came another turning point, not as great as finding out about THE GOLDEN BEARD, but life changing now the less...
The young man realized he could manscape that beard into any design he would like. He could manipulate that fur on his face to make greatness. And he did. HE LOVED IT. He loved growing a big pushbroom mustache or a huge walrus stache. The handle bars or the hitler. He wore them all...and they all loved AWFUL...but he wore them with such pride...until today.
Today, he had about a months beard on his face. and he began to shave...he took all be a basic mustache. It was beautiful. It was darker gold then in his younger days, but still golden. The golden stache. And he sent a text message to his lovely lady friend...to see what she thought...and she called him and said they would not talk until the stache was removed. So..
...sorry golden stache...you will come and go, but I cant grow her once every two weeks and mold her the way i like...she is a one shot deal.
So here i sit, freshly and cleanly shaven...i feel so young and so not hairy and very very sad
Friday, December 5, 2008
Eye Opening 24 hours!
In the past 12 hours and in 12 hours, I will have helped make 25 families a lot better and sit down to take the biggest test I have ever taken, the LSAT.
In my job, i complain about a lot of things. I feel sometimes that all I do is sit at a desk and do random boring jobs. I make phone calls and talk to community partners, I send e-mails to professors to see about "Service-Learning" projects. I do this all and have no clue sometimes how exactly I am impacting the world around me. I took my job in hopes of doing this. For a bit, I wrestled with this demon...I was put here to do good, yet I feel like I just sit at a desk. I started to turn the corner recently and see that I am doing is working towards a greater good. Then today happened...
...IT WAS BREATH TAKING!
We (as a community service office) delivered "Holiday" (I'm not allowed to say Christmas) gifts to 25 families who needed the help. I got to go out on 6 deliveries and never seen someone so happy to see me. These families were touched, they were moved and they were happy. I was proud. For the first time since taking my new position, I was PROUD. I drove all over this county and it was totally worth it (NOW IF GAS PRICES WERE STILL $4/GALLON...). The smiles on the faces of these parents made every little boring mundane activity I have done in the past four months worth it.
It was also amazing because it took my mind off of the LSAT. I am prepared. I spent hours looking over stupid prep manuals, took COUNTLESS tests and analyzed every answer. AND THAT SCARES ME. I AM TERRIFIED. I have never been more prepared for anything in my life. This is the pinnacle of all this work! What if I bomb it? What if all my work went towards nothing? I am not even worried about getting into law school yet, this test has me terrified. And has corny has it sounds I just have to put faith that things will work out to where I need to be.
And because this is my blog, I can be whoever I want...I feel like Antonio Banderas in the final scene of the 13th Warrior. If you haven't seen it, watch it. Long story short, the final battle insurmountable odds and right has hell is about to break through the gates, AB starts to pray...he says a little prayer along the lines of...
...I have squandered my days with plans of many things, this was not among them. But at this moment, I want only to live the next few moments well. For all we ought to have thought, and have not thought; all we ought to have said, and have not said; all we ought to have done, and have not done.
And this is all that I ask from any higher power listening is to ALLOW ME TO LIVE THESE MOMENTS WELL! And enjoy them for everything they are worth.
In my job, i complain about a lot of things. I feel sometimes that all I do is sit at a desk and do random boring jobs. I make phone calls and talk to community partners, I send e-mails to professors to see about "Service-Learning" projects. I do this all and have no clue sometimes how exactly I am impacting the world around me. I took my job in hopes of doing this. For a bit, I wrestled with this demon...I was put here to do good, yet I feel like I just sit at a desk. I started to turn the corner recently and see that I am doing is working towards a greater good. Then today happened...
...IT WAS BREATH TAKING!
We (as a community service office) delivered "Holiday" (I'm not allowed to say Christmas) gifts to 25 families who needed the help. I got to go out on 6 deliveries and never seen someone so happy to see me. These families were touched, they were moved and they were happy. I was proud. For the first time since taking my new position, I was PROUD. I drove all over this county and it was totally worth it (NOW IF GAS PRICES WERE STILL $4/GALLON...). The smiles on the faces of these parents made every little boring mundane activity I have done in the past four months worth it.
It was also amazing because it took my mind off of the LSAT. I am prepared. I spent hours looking over stupid prep manuals, took COUNTLESS tests and analyzed every answer. AND THAT SCARES ME. I AM TERRIFIED. I have never been more prepared for anything in my life. This is the pinnacle of all this work! What if I bomb it? What if all my work went towards nothing? I am not even worried about getting into law school yet, this test has me terrified. And has corny has it sounds I just have to put faith that things will work out to where I need to be.
And because this is my blog, I can be whoever I want...I feel like Antonio Banderas in the final scene of the 13th Warrior. If you haven't seen it, watch it. Long story short, the final battle insurmountable odds and right has hell is about to break through the gates, AB starts to pray...he says a little prayer along the lines of...
...I have squandered my days with plans of many things, this was not among them. But at this moment, I want only to live the next few moments well. For all we ought to have thought, and have not thought; all we ought to have said, and have not said; all we ought to have done, and have not done.
And this is all that I ask from any higher power listening is to ALLOW ME TO LIVE THESE MOMENTS WELL! And enjoy them for everything they are worth.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Home
As I sit in my office workspace, with 2o+ students talking about going home for the holidays, I began to think of the places that I have called home in my life. Its not a really exciting list, but it is my list I call home.
The first house I remember, was a beautiful 2 story house in Pleasant Gap, PA. Pleasant Gap has exactly 2 stop lights and 3 bars. I lived there for roughly 20 years of my life. It was close to where I went to Elementary school and the location was perfect. My mom, dad, sister and I all co-existed in this house and this is where the family bonds were officially forged. My room was at the top of the steps and I was always the first one up on any gift giving holiday (Easter, Christmas). The kitchen and dining room was set up in such a way that we could all be preparing food and setting the table without it being too much of a big cluster F.
I loved this house, this is where I grew up. It was where I first fell out my bike and scraped my knee. It was where I believed so much in Santa that I made my father throw carrots on the roof for the reindeer. It was where I learned to drive and where I backed into my sisters car! This was my home...
The next place i lived was not much to talk about, it was a crappy two bedroom apartment with my 3 friends. We trashed the place, never did dishes and rarely, if ever vacuumed. It was where my friends and I figured out that we were great friends because we never lived together!
The housing situation then gets a bit weird
After spending a few months back with my parents, I went to a summer camp, i know, its not really a home, but I spent 4 summers there. This home was AMAZING, it was on a huge horse farm, and my room was shared with 13 other camp counselors. Staff quarters used to be an old chicken coup and now is used to harbor 14 staff members from all over the world for 3 months out of the year. It was amazing, it will always be my home. AND THE STARS LOOK AMAZING there. Stone Mountain will always be considered home...with 52 campers, 13 other staff, 4 directors, countless horses and a few smelly dogs.
Then, I moved into a townhouse with a girlfriend (no longer my girlfriend). I started back to school and lived here while my no longer girlfriend worked as a teacher. It was a sweet gig. I paid the bills I could, while working in a life sucking hell hole on campus and she took care of the rest. I would cook and clean and life started to make sense. Home was not a place where my entire family was, it was the place where the people most important to me is located. My no longer girlfriend and I lived here for two years and decided townhouse living was not quite for us (FINALLY!)...
We moved in to a one story ranch, with a garage for a basement. It had a huge back deck and a yard for my then, now no longer, dog to run around and poop all over. It was nice. It was a small slice of heaven...however no longer girlfriend became no longer girlfriend about 2 months after we moved in....
So my best friend and I decided to find a place to live, so i could finish up school. It was a nice place, 2 bedrooms, a bathroom, wide open kitchen and a living room. BEST PART, IT HAD A WASHER AND DRYER!!!! Life was hectic and beer flowed like water. My friend and I had our rough spots (and no cable for about 3 months) but it was wonderful...
During all this time, my parents bought a new house. It was nice. In ground pool, large TV room, 4 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms and I harbored ALOT of hatred for this house. It wasnt my home in Pleasant Gap. It was a house which was new to me and I never had a chance to make my own memories. I HATED IT...for 3 years I had no time for that house. Then, my moods changed. This house that I hated became home to me. I go home about two or three times a week for dinner and realize that my parents, my sister and those I hold close are my home...the place where they exist is just a place to hold the memories...SAPPY, I know, but it's true.
so where do you call home?
The first house I remember, was a beautiful 2 story house in Pleasant Gap, PA. Pleasant Gap has exactly 2 stop lights and 3 bars. I lived there for roughly 20 years of my life. It was close to where I went to Elementary school and the location was perfect. My mom, dad, sister and I all co-existed in this house and this is where the family bonds were officially forged. My room was at the top of the steps and I was always the first one up on any gift giving holiday (Easter, Christmas). The kitchen and dining room was set up in such a way that we could all be preparing food and setting the table without it being too much of a big cluster F.
I loved this house, this is where I grew up. It was where I first fell out my bike and scraped my knee. It was where I believed so much in Santa that I made my father throw carrots on the roof for the reindeer. It was where I learned to drive and where I backed into my sisters car! This was my home...
The next place i lived was not much to talk about, it was a crappy two bedroom apartment with my 3 friends. We trashed the place, never did dishes and rarely, if ever vacuumed. It was where my friends and I figured out that we were great friends because we never lived together!
The housing situation then gets a bit weird
After spending a few months back with my parents, I went to a summer camp, i know, its not really a home, but I spent 4 summers there. This home was AMAZING, it was on a huge horse farm, and my room was shared with 13 other camp counselors. Staff quarters used to be an old chicken coup and now is used to harbor 14 staff members from all over the world for 3 months out of the year. It was amazing, it will always be my home. AND THE STARS LOOK AMAZING there. Stone Mountain will always be considered home...with 52 campers, 13 other staff, 4 directors, countless horses and a few smelly dogs.
Then, I moved into a townhouse with a girlfriend (no longer my girlfriend). I started back to school and lived here while my no longer girlfriend worked as a teacher. It was a sweet gig. I paid the bills I could, while working in a life sucking hell hole on campus and she took care of the rest. I would cook and clean and life started to make sense. Home was not a place where my entire family was, it was the place where the people most important to me is located. My no longer girlfriend and I lived here for two years and decided townhouse living was not quite for us (FINALLY!)...
We moved in to a one story ranch, with a garage for a basement. It had a huge back deck and a yard for my then, now no longer, dog to run around and poop all over. It was nice. It was a small slice of heaven...however no longer girlfriend became no longer girlfriend about 2 months after we moved in....
So my best friend and I decided to find a place to live, so i could finish up school. It was a nice place, 2 bedrooms, a bathroom, wide open kitchen and a living room. BEST PART, IT HAD A WASHER AND DRYER!!!! Life was hectic and beer flowed like water. My friend and I had our rough spots (and no cable for about 3 months) but it was wonderful...
During all this time, my parents bought a new house. It was nice. In ground pool, large TV room, 4 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms and I harbored ALOT of hatred for this house. It wasnt my home in Pleasant Gap. It was a house which was new to me and I never had a chance to make my own memories. I HATED IT...for 3 years I had no time for that house. Then, my moods changed. This house that I hated became home to me. I go home about two or three times a week for dinner and realize that my parents, my sister and those I hold close are my home...the place where they exist is just a place to hold the memories...SAPPY, I know, but it's true.
so where do you call home?
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
First (and Forced) Posting
So here it begins...
my first step into blogging. I was never really drawn into the "blog" world, ever. Until that day, that one stupid day when I was flying around facebook and read one man's blog. I worked with the guy for a few years and really enjoyed making fun of everyone else that we worked with. I became addicted, I read his blog and really enjoyed hearing every story and every pearl of wisdom he shares. So I said to myself, "I can blog, people will really be interested in what I think!"
Now I am having blog fears. Do I talk about my challenging year as a VISTA or speak of wonderful stories from my past? Can I dazzle you with my words or challenge you with my wisdom? (STOP LAUGHING!) So what do i do? And then it dawned on me, it does not matter. If you read it, great, if you don't probably even better. So here we go...
This is me, I am Justin. And if you are reading this, thank you.
I am a community service Volunteer In Service To America (VISTA). I love my job, sort of. But I have a lot of free time. And in my free time I think. So this is my random thought of the day.
Why would someone read my random thoughts. I am trying to find something witty or wonderful to type, but instead of talking about twixters or my job, i want to ponder why you would want to read about my thoughts? So, for my first post, until I come up with something fun or interesting, I will leave you with this, why do you want read about what I am doing? And do you know what a twixter is?
my first step into blogging. I was never really drawn into the "blog" world, ever. Until that day, that one stupid day when I was flying around facebook and read one man's blog. I worked with the guy for a few years and really enjoyed making fun of everyone else that we worked with. I became addicted, I read his blog and really enjoyed hearing every story and every pearl of wisdom he shares. So I said to myself, "I can blog, people will really be interested in what I think!"
Now I am having blog fears. Do I talk about my challenging year as a VISTA or speak of wonderful stories from my past? Can I dazzle you with my words or challenge you with my wisdom? (STOP LAUGHING!) So what do i do? And then it dawned on me, it does not matter. If you read it, great, if you don't probably even better. So here we go...
This is me, I am Justin. And if you are reading this, thank you.
I am a community service Volunteer In Service To America (VISTA). I love my job, sort of. But I have a lot of free time. And in my free time I think. So this is my random thought of the day.
Why would someone read my random thoughts. I am trying to find something witty or wonderful to type, but instead of talking about twixters or my job, i want to ponder why you would want to read about my thoughts? So, for my first post, until I come up with something fun or interesting, I will leave you with this, why do you want read about what I am doing? And do you know what a twixter is?
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