Hi guys, I hope the weekend has been off to a good start!
Right now I'm typing up this post while snacking on some chocolate chip pumpkin bread with a mug of chocolate milk...
Mmmh, please excuse me as I talk with my mouth full.
I don't know about you, but in the early years of school we used to have a 'word of the day'. Our teacher would make us memorize that particular word, and learn to spell it.
I remember having a hard time learning the spelling of onion... I only got it right after one of my mom's friend told me, "Think of it as on on, and then comes naughty i and sits in the middle. Bad i!" Well, that turned out to be an effective method, and I am a little embarrassed to admit how long I actually used that way to remember how to spell onion.
Anyway, with that concept in mind, today's word of the day is...
|a strong affection or enthusiasm for an object, concept, etc: a passion for poetry|
Don't worry, I'm not going to come up with a kooky way of how to memorize this particular unit of language, but to have a passion was definitely something I wanted all my life. Unbeknownst to me, I have actually found one, and I've actually been living this one for a while now.
Since I was a little girl, I've always tried to find my passion in other people's passions. My brother plays the guitar/bass, so I gave a shot at being musically inclined as well... No such luck - I still have an unused ukulele and extra guitar at home. One of my friends was learning how to skateboard, so I tried as well... Nah - I still have a $150 skateboard lying under my bookshelf.
Of course I love photography, art, and listening to vinyl... But I only love them to a certain extent. I don't like the technical details, I don't clean my records every time I play them (Varun, I hope you don't see this), I don't sketch out of the blue, and I don't bring my camera around everywhere.
So just the other day my dad was telling my mom (I totally eavesdropped on their conversation when I heard my name) that he had never seen me so independent all my life until recently. And then I realised. I am independent. I am living my own life, my own passion. And I've never been happier.
I found passion in myself, my body. I love to work out. I love the nitty gritty details, like how a flat bench press works both portions of the pectoralis major, but also hits the lower and anterior delts whereas an incline bench press hits more on the anterior delts and upper pectoralis major. I love the burn in my legs during a 50-minute spin class. I love feeling strong as I increase my leg press, dumbbell, or barbell weights.
I don't go to the gym for anyone, I don't do it to prove anything. I don't run because anyone is forcing me to, and I don't go around telling the whole world that my glutes are sore from doing squats. Heck I don't even do group classes (with spin as an exception), because I don't like comparing with other people. I do it because I just like to.
I also can tell that my passion is not an obsession because I don't pressurise myself to exercise. If I don't feel up to it, or if I just want to be lazy and lounge in my pyjamas all day, then I do that. I don't feel guilty missing a workout anymore, and I don't believe in eating lesser if I don't work out.
I feel like exercise, nutrition, and all the scientific jargon behind it is something that's mine. Something that I found myself, and that I enjoy for myself.
I mean... I don't think my friends would be too interested in what goes in my monster of a salad, right?
Hodge-podge of veggies, salsa chicken breast, sweet potato, olives, vintage cheddar, and a olive oil-balsamic dressing. Alongside a slice of flax toast.
Because only you guys would get that...
And that's why you all make me feel at home ;) Lotsa love!