Aztec & Aqua

I have officially started my job at Starbucks! (WOO!) So far it's been a lot of coffee tasting, and trying to learn the secret language of the Barista. I don't speak Starbuckian fluently, not yet anyway. Of course, today was only my second shift. I got up at 5:30 IN THE MORNING to be at work by 6:30. It's a good thing my latest direction is taking me down a road paved with coffee beans or I'd pass right out by the time I got there. I'm enjoying it so far. Also I'm about two shifts away from becoming a coffee snob, too.

I'm really hoping to try and get some creative juice going, to maintain a good writing&blogging schedule while working two jobs at the same time. Oh yes, having a life might be fun too, in there, somewhere. Also naps. Also, running. Good lord, it's no wonder I was forced into using a day planner!

Anyway, my shift was only four hours of training this morning, so I decided to get some errands done at the mall before I punched my daily run right in the FACE. I ended up wearing something that I thought was unusual and bright, so I decided to snap a couple pictures in the name of colour!

This picture reminds me of Yoshi from Super Mario.

Is that crazy?
I started with the pants then pulled on the shirt because of the blue and aqua in the pattern. Keeping with the print, which seems a little outdoorsy, kind of Native American or Aztec, I threw on the boots. Maybe it's not the COOLEST thing I've ever worn, but it's bright and comfy for the errands I had to run today. Plus, I felt good wearing it which is the most important thing. Also, I didn't take a picture of it, but my prized bag ended up with this outfit too, along with some red lipstick and a naked eye. Love it!

Shirt & Jeans: Forever 21
Boots: Chuck Taylor's Converse
Glasses: LOVE

Topsy Turvy

Today I've been up making Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Stuffed Cupcakes for Kacy's 19th birthday tomorrow. I had to make her something TOTALLY cray cray and over the top-- what else are bake-happy older sisters good for? I'm also going to meet up with some college friends tonight for some food and drinks in celebration of my friend Tyler's birthday. (Tyler, of I'm-trying-not-to-cry-next-to-you-in-127-Hours-this-is-awkward fame.)

BUT, yesterday Rebekah and I got to do something else totally boss: we went to see the local Busker Festival. Our city has one every year, and it fills the downtown area with street performers who complete amazing acts and crowds of people to see it all go down. We saw the end of an acrobatic act and then watched an escape artist escape from a straight jacket 20 feet in the air. COOL stuff. The other amazing thing about live street theatre is seeing this stuff up close. The performers clearly LOVE what they're doing and there's a lot of audience interaction. You're going to get heckled by them if you're on their cellphone or if you're standing someone clear and obvious in their sight. There's a nervous energy about it that you don't really find in other kinds of theatre.




Fun lights are fun.

The Lazy Guide to Health

As you can see, we've done a teeny tiny makeover here. I was thinking about it yesterday and I think the new title reflects a lot more about what this blog is going to be about. Arcade Ragdoll was snazzy and flashy, but Life of Wiley is... well. Self explanatory. I'm probably going to be messing around more with links/layouts/other stuff, but for now, this will do.

I haven't been posting at all because I've been busy: thrift store shopping, working, building my new Ikea desk... (actual workspace, WOO!) and working out. Lots and lots of working out. With the 10K run on the horizon (October 16th!) Jill and I have been trying to add half a kilometer a week to ensure we can run the distance when the time comes. It's all very physical and mental, like getting your mind to hold hands with your body. You can't have one without the other, it all has to work. Two weeks ago I ran outside for the first time in a long time. I was dreading it so badly, because running outside is buckets harder than running on a treadmill. I couldn't push myself to run more than 2 kilometers, running for about thirteen minutes.

This week I ran almost 6KM nonstop. (5.92, so sue me.) The difference? Making up a strategy to run harder early in the week and soften up later, plus keeping a strong, positive mentality. I don't mean sprinting around for miles thinking of sunshine and rainbows, (sometimes, running or pushing yourself takes you to some dark places-- that's why I find it easy to run to Slipknot...) but you have to appreciate everything your body does for you.

You might be thinking I'm crazy, on this sure footed suicide mission to smaller jeans and a finish line that's miles away, so far no one else can see it, but I tell you. There are little things you can do to make small health improvements in your every day life, and yes, it can be fun. Depending on your idea of fun, I guess. They don't even involve working out. Yes, I said it.

Random ideas to improve your health and/or happiness without working out:

Pop a Pill
If you have a bit of extra cash kicking around, you could invest in a multivitamin. A good multivitamin can keep your iron levels up through any tough workouts you might put yourself through. (Iron makes hemoglobin, which helps your bloodcells carry oxyen. It's also good for keeping your mind sharp. Woo!) Besides that, it can lower the risk of heart disease & helps to prevent cancer. It will probably cost between 10-20 dollars, but it could be a little boost that your system needs.

Quit it!
Everyone has a vice. Jill's is chocolate/sweets/desserts, she used to have to eat them every day. I have a Diet Coke addiction, a big issue since lots of people I know and love are expecting me to die from Maybe you smoke. Maybe you guzzle coffee like a Hummer engineered by Starbucks. Maybe you stay up too late! Whatever it is: there's always a little room for moderation, or extreme prejudice when it comes to vices. Jill's boyfriend made a bet with her that she couldn't eat chocolate or candy for a month. In a show of solidarity I'm giving up my precious Diet Coke... (15 days and counting!). Even if it's not for good, trying to cut something back or out is a good way to start.

Try Wholesome Livin'!
No, I encourage whatever debauchery you might have goin' on, I'm talking about food again. When I was in college (god, I feel old now) my darling friend Josh looked at the margarine and the turkey bacon in my fridge and gave his head a shake. I saw lower calorie options, he saw chemicals and processed foods. I saw quantity, he saw lack of quality. Nowadays I tend to prescribe myself to a similar philosophy. The less ingredients, the better it is for me! I may not be able to taste the difference between butter and Becel like he can, but I'm a lot more conscious about picking my foods now. (Thanks Josh!)

DIY
In a train of thought close to the previous one, making your own salad dressing, cookies, pizza, pasta sauce is better for you and lets you light up with culinary ambition and accomplishment! Making it from scratch, do it. It's healthier for you. If you enjoy spending time in the kitchen, this one is a gift AND a no brainer. Plus, if you're making it from scratch you'll appreciate the process more and also the final product.

Team Up
You need a partner in crime, don't you? The Robin to your Batman? Find someone close to you, from your best friend, your lovah, your sibling, your co-worker, whoever. Tell them about your goal and ask them to try and keep you on track and encourage you. Then offer to do the same in return. You scratch, they scratch type deal. ;)

Embrace Your Inner Child
If your goal is endurance based, such as quitting or even starting something for a week, a month, a year, try giving yourself visual motivations to keep going. To keep ourselves active and training hard, I stuck a calendar on the fridge, then popped to the local dollar store and bought a jumbo pack of stickers. Everyone in my family got a different kind (I'm dinosaurs!) and every day we work out, we get to put a sticker on the day. It's fun, and it keeps us on track and competitive as we try to match one another sticker for sticker.

Anyway, I have to run now, I'm going to yoga because I need to get my sticker for the day. What small changes have you made/can you think of in the name of better health and happiness today?

Beep beep!

We're under construction! (As you may or may not have noticed!)

See you soon, kids!

Peach Almond Semifreddo

Dessert isn't something you usually get to indulge in when you're on a "DIET" or as the-diet-is-a-naughty-word people like to say, a "lifestyle change." There are alternatives, like dried fruit, and tea, strawberries, that sort of thing.... But those don't hit the spot. Sometimes you want the slab of chocolate cake, that bowl of ice cream... Well this semifreddo recipe might be the next best thing, while I'm still trying to squeeze into a smaller pair of pants.

Traditionally a semifreddo (Italian meaning half-cold) is a dessert with a frozen mousse-like texture, made with ice cream and whipped cream. DOESN'T sound very healthy, does it? Thankfully, I found a recipe in the July 2011 edition of Clean Eating magazine. It's tasty, low cal, and about as good for you as you can get with dessert.

I made this for my parent's anniversary dessert (along with a stellar Roasted Garlic Barley Risotto, ohmygod) because we're all trying to eat a little healthier these days. It's hella easy. HELLA, I SAY.
Peach Almond Semifreddo (Clean Eating Magazine, July 2011)

Ingredients:
1 cup nonfat plain Greek yogurt
1 egg, separated
1/3 cup evaporated cane juice (I didn't have this, so I just used the same amount of agave nectar. If you don't know what any of this stuff is....uhh.. Go ask your local hippie/yuppie grocery store!)
1/2 tsp pure almond extract
1 tsp pure vanilla extract (I used a vanilla bean as well, because I had one around the kitchen!)
3 egg whites
2 medium peaches, pitted and diced
1/3 cup unsalted almonds, toasted

Prep:Line a 8x4x5 loaf pan with plastic wrap. No worries about nonstick sprays or nothin'!

I toasted my almonds over medium heat in a frying pan on the stove for about ten minutes, until they smelled good! Then, I covered them in a tea towel and smashed them with a big kitchen hammer. MORE FUN!Then I separated the eggs, taking care to make sure no yolks got in with the whites, and cut up the peaches. Easy peasy!

Instructions:
Combine yogurt, the egg yolk, the cane juice and the extracts. As I mentioned I used a vanilla bean in addition to this... and I have to admit the flavour was a little strong. I'd put in half next time.In a separate bowl, beat the egg whites into stiff peaks. (I find that they whip better with a pinch of cream of tartar, and also at room temperature!)
Fold the whites into the yogurt mixture, 1/3 at a time. Then gently fold in the peaches and almonds. Pour mixture into the loaf pan and smooth the top. Freeze for 2 or 3 hours, until just frozen.
When it's finishing, invert it on a serving tray, peeling away the wrap and slice with a knife that has been warmed by hot water! (Warning: REALLY try to eat it after 2 or 3 hours. Through a series of unfortunate events, I had to wait 24 hours and it was frozen solid and by then... So then it had to thaw. It was a little icy, but it still tasted awesome. When done properly, I bet it's the shizzle.)

Looks like ice cream?

Split Personality

One of the fun things about self improvement is reinventing yourself, and getting to try new things. Whether it's cooking new foods, (That's right! New recipe posts coming soon!) trying a new workout routine, or maybe, trying something in clothing and fashion that you've never tried before. I'm not crazy about posting outfit pictures here. I feel a little self conscious or...I guess the better word is egotistical. Who really CARES what I wear, anyhow? Mostly I do it because I have started to dress more nicely... And it's blogs filled with gorgeous, well dressed fat positive ladies who made me realize it's NEVER too early to embrace yourself.

Since Jill and I have started training harder for our 10K run in October, as I've mentioned, I've been cycling a lot of gym clothes. So it was a proud moment for me to step out in this style. To be a different person from the one I am when I'm IN THE ZONE. The runner and the zen yoga addict. The well dressed girl and the messy artist. The lady and the troublemaker. Be Marie Curie, Daisy Lowe, Rosa Parks and Marie Antoinette. Why the hell not? People are complex, full of contradictions. That's what makes them human. That's what makes them awesome.

Whatever the case, I feel as though it's been such a long time since I've posted one, and that this posting is acceptable, especially because it was partially inspired by one of my fellow bloggers. Laura over at the Blog of Worldly Delights recently posted an outfit where she mixed a striped shirt with a patterned skirt. I was charmed by the look in short order. (I'm plugging her blog for a reason-- you should go check it out, she's quite charming and the layout is, as I say, ADORABO.) Maybe by posting THIS someone else will see it and will go out and try something bold of their own.

Remember, well behaved women rarely make history, and fortune favours the bold!

Mixing patterns is one of the things I've always wanted to have a go at, but I've never had the care to try, or the brass. Well after seeing her post, I was reminded of my urge to play a little game of mix and match. I went into my freshly cleaned closet to see what I might be able to find, and the results were, well, in my personal opinion, a success. I know this because:

A) The stripes made my boobs look bigger. (Always an A+)
B) Rebekah, my fashionista style meter told me I looked cute today. She said that I was, "pulling it off." PROUD MOMENT.


Scared or high? Maybe both.

The second I start making model faces for outfit posts exclusively, please shoot me.
My new hipster gogs. LOVE.
Shirt: Suzy Shier
Cardigan: H&M
Skirt: Joe Fresh
Glasses: LOVE Brand Eyeglasses
Belt: Borrowed

As a random side note: through a series of events, I found a website called My Body Gallery. It allows you to enter your specific height, weight and even body type. THEN it shows you user submitted pictures of REAL women who have the same stats as you. I thought it was pretty cool... One of the things Look Better Naked talks about is how people, specifically women, are so accustomed to hating on themselves. Well... looking at other girls in my weight/height category, I couldn't judge them. I thought a lot of them looked GOOD. It made me think: how do your own biases LITERALLY change the way you see yourself? When people tell you you're beautiful and you don't believe them, is it because you have a seriously distorted POV?

Do you know what you REALLY look like?

Sexy Librarian

As of late I've been wearing a LOT of INSIDE clothes. Gym clothes. Yoga pants. Running shoes. Sweats. So today when I finally got the chance to go out IN PUBLIC, even running errands, I felt the need for a little spit and polish, if you'll pardon the expression. I ended up wearing a checkered black and blue dress that was short-- I had to wear shorts under it.. I paired this with some black knee high socks, my black wing tip shoes, and of course, my new slightly larger glasses. The ensemble was a little risque, a little schoolgirl. With my hair down and gigantically poofy (or as we say, serious) I was feelin' pretty styled.

"Let me put on my slightly larger glasses!"

That's when I walked into the little library close to my house. I strolled up casually to the lady at the front desk: "Excuse me? I reserved a book online about...10 minutes ago. Would it be on the reserved shelf already, or would it still be out with the other books?"
Short dress. Knee high socks. Hipster goggles. This woman thought I was a BIMBO: "....Did you reserve it at /this/ library?"
"Uhm. Yes."
She told me it was probably still on the shelf.

I wandered over to look for this particular fitness book. After checking for a good three minutes (small library), I divined that it wasn't there. I even checked the new arrivals: nada. So I returned to the desk, dreading every step. "Uhm...I couldn't find it." She turned her attention the computer, fingers set of the keyboard.
"What is the name of the book you're looking for?"

"It's a fitness book," I assured her, then with extreme hesitation and a lowered voice, "it's called..... Look Better Naked." She gave me THE LOOK. The one you get when you know someone is judging you. In my mind, she was sure I was a porn star in training. Next I was going to ask for the Little Book of Big Blow Jobs. After a few seconds of searching on her computer, she pointed out that when there isn't enough room for books, they put them on TOP of the shelves. Something I had failed to notice until I made myself red in the face by asking this SLIGHTLY elderly, bespectacled librarian for help finding infamous naughty books. She assured me she would help me find the book if I couldn't and I walked over there, past two rows of people on computers, who may or may not have heard the entire conversation.

There, sitting on top of the shelf was Look Better Naked, a book by the editor of Women's Healthy magazine that covers everything from nutrition and workouts to skin care and confidence boosting. My only checkmate was that instead of signing my own books out at the kiosk, I proudly presented them to the librarian at the desk.

So in a few weeks I will in fact look, or at least FEEL better in the buff. But you're just gonna have to take my word for it. Until my professional porn career launches, there just won't be any nude pictures of me on the internet. (To Mom finding this blog and seeing this post, somehow: JUST KIDDING.)

Photos: August 5-7

August 5th. Cowboys & Aliens.
It's my goal to figure out a way to wear this hat in a real outfit without looking like Indiana Jones. Also, to marry Sam Rockwell, because he's adorable, no matter what movie he ends up in.

August 6th. The Hill.
Every day when I drive home from work at night and the streets are a little empty, there's a big hill. My favourite thing to do is speed up the hill, then to take my foot off the gas and bomb down it with nothing but gravity to accelerate. I love the speed and the freedom.

August 7th. Cat's Eye View.
The after work nap!

Annnnd I missed the eighth. OOPS. I'll just have to update with two pictures on one day or something....

4AM Rambles

I like staying up late because it affords me the time to sit with my own thoughts, without distractions and write, think, make plans. When I'm up late I can dream about the finish line, the films and stories I'm not yet writing. I can think about the acoustic guitar I want to learn to play, and the people I miss with more clarity than in the chaos of daytime. I can really get down to the marrow in the bones of what I want, or need. Things that seem unclear suddenly emerge like they're really obvious.

What I need to do with my future. What I want from life. What I feel about who, and why. Sometimes the hard thing is admitting to these revelations, because they're not what everyone else wants or needs to hear. Sometimes, they're not even what I want to hear, especially if they mean putting myself before pre-made plans or notions. Things that might mess with other people.

The pressure to appease the other people in my life is manifest in a diagnosed social phobia/anxiety disorder that I try not to let define me. Every now and again though, it allows me to open up, especially to other people. I found out two of my co-workers also suffer from anxiety today and it immediately put my heart out to them in a way I don't think I would have connected with them otherwise.
It seems like almost everyone I know has suffered through, or is suffering through some kind of anxiety of the times. At dinner I asked my parents if this was the case 30 years ago. Were people just more quiet about their problems because mental illness was taboo? Or is the internet age breeding directionless heart broken kids with carpal tunnel and happy pills to keep them upright during the day?

Staying up late also affords me the brilliant ability to ramble for paragraphs, a constant stream of thought sort of thing. I don't think I should write much longer, it's 4AM. We'll be back to your regular programming soon... I'd just post this because I'd hate for all these thoughts to go to waste somewhere.

Sticky situation.

WARNING: This post is NOT safe for you if you're uncomfortable with talk about lady parts, waxing, swearing, (you can see where this is going) and other fun things of such nature. If you want to stop reading now I'll leave you with this picture of my pussy....cat rocking his PRIDE bling and then you can have a little giggle, wander on your merry way, and leave the rest of us to our debauchery.ANYWAY. Now that it's just us, let's get down to it. I've written other blogs about the adventures of waxing BEFORE, but I'm too lazy to dig them up and anyway, today was a particularly comical episode in the Life of Riley. For reasons unknown to myself today, I felt the need to pare down the savage garden a little bit. Whether it was for the beach trip I may or may not be taking, the short SHORT shorts I'll be wearing to hot yoga tomorrow, or just general insanity, I may never know.

What I do know is that I had strips from a home wax kit my friend bought and left at my house awhile ago. I looked at them and thought, "Hey, cool! Why not?" So I stripped my pants off (because I ALWAYS wear tearaways) and got to work. These particular strips were low maintenance. You only had to warm them with friction. It kind of looked like I was trying to start a fire.

I peeled the strip open and applied it to the freshly trimmed greenery downstairs, only to realize: holy SHIT this stuff is sticky. Ohmygod this is going to hurt. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod. So I did what I had to do and took it off. But because I wussed out, I did it slowly. (I'm one of THOSE band aid people.) And it DID hurt, regardless. When I looked at the sheet, a few hairs were hanging out on it pathetically. Otherwise, the damn things had been pretty ineffective... Mostly due to the fact that I am LAME.

That's when I came to the horrible realization that I had a sticky, glossy candy coating of wax on EVERY. SINGLE. HAIR. Horror. I imagined all the horrible things that might get stuck in my pubic hair if the problem wasn't attended to. So I hopped into the shower and tried to wash it off with soap. Nothing. Expensive facewash. Nothing. Bodywash. Nothing. Shampoo. Nothing. It was like the episode of the Simpsons where Lisa gets gum in her hair and Marge tries everything from Peanut Butter to Baba Ghanoush... If that episode were to take place in my crotch. I hopped out of the shower (the towel stuck to me) and hurried into my room.

If I couldn't save myself, the internet was going to have to give me answers. Moral of the story: GOOGLE IT. Also, if you EVER for ANY reason have problems with removing wax from your skin, the trick is OIL. Any oil. I used baby oil. Google said olive oil, vegetable oil or canola would also do the trick. So now, the name of the game is learning to SHAVE the South Pole, or else, paying someone who will NOT pussy out when it comes to making me feel pain by riddling my nethers with hot wax and linen band aids. The end.

Photos: August 1-4

August 1st. 15 minute break.

August 2nd. Walk the tracks to the store.

August 3rd. Late night.

August 4th. Dimoitou!

Sitcom

I am a character in a sitcom. I'm am convinced of this because:

A) I get into situations you would find in a sitcom.
B) I react like a TV character, this meaning... Not rationally. (Also, a lot of the time I see the people around me as characters in their own lives. I'm like Abed from Community, and the way he analyzes everyone like they're on a TV show. Whether this is healthy or not really remains to be seen.)

For example: Today at work, we were finishing up our money counts so we could all go home for the night. I dropped a nickel on the ground counting out my till and it was like the scene in A Christmas Story where Ralphie's dad has to change the tire on the car.
"Ohhhhh fffffffuuuuuuuu-dddgggee..." I said.
"Were you just going to swear? Were you going to say fuck?" My manager asked.

Then she went on to say that I'm so NICE and sweet and innocent. So much so that when I swear she finds it surprising. (This is where everyone I know in real life bursts out laughing. I have a bit of a profanity problem...especially when I'm driving. The word 'sluts' comes into play a LITTLE too often.) In fact, my manager called me the Preacher's Daughter. Not the naughty misbehaving kind-- the GOOD kind. I was shocked, and to be honest, appalled. I guess that's the kind of image I project at work, being happy all the time. I always try to be as nice to people as possible... So don't ask me WHY I found this label surprising or offensive. It was one of those irrational things sitcom characters do. I immediately wanted to begin swearing like a sailor, just to make a point. Just to prove that old line from Fight Club: you are not your job. You are not who you ARE at your job.

I spent my drive home imagining ways to prove that I'm NOT a goodie two-shoes, in hypothetical ways. They started out hilariously small, such as not charging people for bags, or wearing bright coloured converse. Then they started getting more extreme: caught shoplifting. Speeding tickets. Losing it in an aisle and trashing items off the shelves. I'm actually thinking about writing a mini pilot episode, just to stretch my writing legs. I'll call it: THE LIFE OF RILEY! (Which was already a sitcom in the 1950s, but shush.)
This isn't the first time I've thought this way: that I'm a character in a TV show. In fact I'm pretty sure I've ranted to my friend Josh about this fact a couple of times. Josh specifically, for some reason.

Like the time I thought a guy at my internship was asking me out for coffee, when really, he was asking me to GET him a coffee.

Or the time I went to see 127 Hours with a friend-- not the kind of friend I was comfortable crying around-- and had to keep myself from all out BAWLING at the end of the movie. Awkward central.

OR the time when I-- oh geez. You get the point here. Life is comical. It's only a matter of time before I start hallucinating a laugh track, I get my own theme song and some wacky neighbors move in next door to fuel the fire.