JAZZERCISE

My friend Andrew so lovingly said to me the other day: "You can't write just one blog entry.  That's called a rant." 

It only took me a month, but without further ado I present my second blog entry.

JAZZERCISE

I know what you're thinking.  "Jazzercise?  Is it 1992 already?" 

I had never seen a Jazzercise building until I was 19 or 20.  I remember, I literally laughed out loud when I saw it.  It immediately brought to mind legwarmers, hot pink leotards, and images of Tamilee Webb in those "Buns of Steel" movies. 

"Who would do Jazzercise?" I said to myself. 

Little did I know, in less than 10 years, I would be one of those people.

Over a year ago a friend of mine started taking Jazzercise classes.  She would talk about what an amazing workout it is, and urged me to attend classes with her.  Not noticing any discernible difference in myself from my preferred method of working out - that is to say, not working out at all - I decided to give Jazzercise a try.

Holy cow, did it kick my butt.

It is an intense hour of cardio, stretching, and strength training.  You don't get to stop moving AT ALL for THE ENTIRE HOUR.  It's torture.  I can imagine that if the government started making all the suspected terrorists do Jazzercise, they would get them to sing like school birds.  It may be cruel and unsual punishment, but it's effective.

I loved it.  I had never pushed myself so hard or felt so completely satisfied after a workout in my life.  I decided I had to join right then and told myself that I would attend at least three classes a week.

Naturally, I made every excuse not to go to Jazzercise during the rest of 2011.  "My head hurts!  I had a bad day at work!  Global warming!"  I did manage to make myself go occasionally, but realized that my three-day-a-week goal was a little ambitious.

This year, I promised myself that things would be different.  Like most people, at the top of my New Years resolution list was to "get fit."  I told myself that I would work my way up to going to Jazzercise three times a week, but I wasn't going to force it. 

I wanted to have fun with it.  I cut the collars out of various t-shirts I have lying around my apartment to make them looser and help myself channel the 80s Jazzercise being I have within.  I switched my work schedule so I can start/leave an hour earlier to make it to classes.  I'm even considering buying more workout pants.  I said workout pants, as in not sweat pants.  Considering I only own one actual pair of non-sweat workout pants, this is kind of a huge deal.

It's been effective.  I still don't go three times a week, and I really have no one to blame but myself for that.  I know my life is busy and fabulous, but I also know that I can find an extra hour a week for self-improvement.

I'm hoping to make it three times this week.  I know this cliffhanger is going to drive you crazy, and you're all going to be on the edge of your seat until next time wondering if I made it three times this week (just kidding :-) ).  I promise I won't make you wait so long between blogs next time :-)

Because I want to know everything

*Disclaimer:  I think I'm funny.  However, if you were to ask my friends to list five traits about me, they would probably say "smart," "nice," or even "a little flaky."  "Funny" would be nowhere near that list.  Even so, I still think I'm funny.  Please take what follows with a grain of salt, and if you can manage a chuckle or even a sad "aww she's trying" smile, it would be most appreciated.*

Many great stories have an "a-ha!" moment.  It's that moment where everything changes.  The hero may decide that he fell in love with the nerd at school, or the heroine decides to take that class she's been putting off.  It's some sort of twist that makes the story move forward in a positive way, turning it into "happily ever after."

I think I'm at my "a-ha!" moment.

A little about me: I'm 25.  I have two bachelor's degrees. I've been working at the same place since college.  I'm hopelessly addicted to FML and Craiglist Missed Connections.  In short -  I feel like I've done nothing with my life.

What makes this feeling worse are the constant reminders of the people my age or younger who have made it.  Thank you Emma Stone for being younger than me, prettier than me, and having more talent.

I'm not just talking about famous people either.  I have many friends who have these fabulous careers that they love.  Who knows what they're supposed to do with their lives at 25?  Apparently them.  I hate them for being so self-actualized, and hate the Facebook newsfeed for rubbing their self-actualization in my face.

I've come to terms with the fact that I was never a child prodigy.  I played the violin, I acted in school plays, but I didn't really have talent.  If you were to put my orchestra recital up on youtube, it would probably only have 168 hits - 150 of them being from my mom showing her friends and playing the recording over and over, 10 of them being my teacher watching and critiquing the performance, and 8 poor people who were redirected to my video from that video of the kid playing the piano and singing Lady Gaga.

My point is, I'm not where I want to be in life.  I know you're thinking: "Big whoop homes, everyone feels this way and we don't gripe about it on the internet."  Well I do.  Deal with it.

I used to ask a lot of questions when I was young.  One day, my mom looked at me and asked why I ask so many questions.  I looked back at her and said: "Because I want to know everything."  I guess that's kind of the point of this blog.  I'm 25, but unfortunately am nowhere near where I want to be in life.  There are so many things that I want to do but haven't.  So I decided to start doing them.   I'm still young-ish, I'm healthy, so why not try some new things.

Hopefully I will use this to sort of track my progress, or how I'm "living with my quarter life crisis" (in case you didn't get the message and needed me to bash you over the head with it).  I'm hoping to update this at least once or twice a week.  We'll see what happens.