well, i did it.

i knew i wanted to go skydiving someday. ever since i babysat for a family, where the dad was a skydive instructor. i would idolize the insane photos that hung on their walls- groups of skydivers making figure 8's and creating images using their bodies. they moved away five years ago and although we have kept in touch, i always felt saddened that i would probably never have a chance to skydive with them and that i would no longer babysit their two adorable boys.

yesterday, my sister and i drove on to Santa Barbara. we were more than happy enough to see the smog-infested skies fade away as we welcomed 73 degree weather, sunny and blue skies ahead, well aware that we would soon be in the midst of such beauty.

on the way their we did just as any girls do. we sang to the radio and discussed what may or may not come to our minds and mouths as we leaped 13,000 feet to our death :D

we arrived to skydive santa barbara at 11:43 a.m. we checked in and watched a four minute video on what we can expect, but we were to busy to really incorporate the meaning of the documentary because we were too busy signing and initialing our lives away. we paid our dues and waited. and we waited as we saw many types of men and women gear up for their debut in the sky. and then i saw him.

i saw the dad, the skydiving instructor i once babysat for five years ago. our eyes met, we hugged, and surprisingly my nerves went away. i couldn't believe that our paths had crossed on this very day, the one day of the week he works and the one day i chose to jump out of a plane. it got even more incredible. it turns out without even having to request him as my tandem partner, i was already scheduled to be attached with this old friend of mine. i was ready now, more than ever.

i got geared up and took my seat on this 8-seater plane; next to my sister and packed in with a few other jumpers/instructors/camera men.

13,000 feet later, i just had about ten minutes to safely see the skies and the ocean shores from my seat. it was my turn. knees to the edge, head back, arms crossed. AND YOUR OFF. i can't explain to you the feeling, 120 mph against your skin feels incredible, just as does the view from above. you somehow catch up to the camera man and do what you do, smile :D the parachute departs and all you have is panoramic bliss and complete silence. not the silence you get when you plug your ears, this was silence i had never experienced before in my twenty years of life. it was awesome and overwhelming.

it's over before you know it. i left with pictures, a dvd, and two ropeburns on my armpits from when the parachute jerks you. oh yeah, and i scheduled my next jump.

i feel sorry for those who will never jump out of a plane and experience the rush i had yesterday. whether that be because you are afraid of flying, heights, or just plain chicken. i thank god im not one of those people. i have one life and i'm gonna live it to the fullest!

i just ate an entire head of cauliflower.



like a put the whole head in a pot of water on the stove.


on high and twenty minutes later it was super soft and piping hot.


then i mashed it until it's texture matched that of mashed potatoes.


[[no, i've never done this before]]

well, lets just say i went crazy and ate the whole thing.


seriouslyyyy.


im going to explode.


that, or turn into a cauliflower myself.



[[oh my god]]
seriously, i haven't felt like this since i went to sizzler at the age of ten.

talk about a BAA-AAD idea...

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Okay, I'm a television watcher, I'm not gonna lie. In fact, although I am not part of the obesity epidemic in today's children and teenage society, I do get my daily five hours or more of television in. Sure my butt gets sore and my brain turns to mush for a bit, but it's not all talk shows and reality nonsense. One of my favorite channels, A&E, has really taught me about the world we live in today. I often compare my eating disorder and compulsive addiction with those of the drug addicts and alcoholics on Intervention and get a complete 360 outlook on heinous murders and illegal crimes on 48 Hours. My feeling towards this channel is beginning to shift after recent preview regarding their newest series. Psychic Kids is an hour version of Haley Joel Osmond's award winning "Sixth Sense." And while I loved the movie and it's shocking ending, the coming attractions for this show have me giggling like a school girl. Eight year old girls with make up and fake nails look straight at the camera whispering "Dead people speak to me..." and young boys who haven't even reached puberty yet express just what it is they see in their dreams....  ARE YOU KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW? These kids haven't even learned about themselve yet, and are all ready showing the television viewers of America their paranormal powers and ESP abilities. Don't get me wrong, there's a part of me that believes in the afterlife, guardian angels, and ghosts who have not yet crossed ever, but this show is a joke. A&E needs to ditch the psycho kiddies and send them and John Edward from Crossing Over to Loonyville  :D

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It's no surprise that gas prices are outrageous and that everyone's suffering. Farmers, city police and firemen, mothers and fathers, children and teachers.

Yes, some of you now bike your way to school, work, and just about everywhere. Some of you carpool or opt out of those out of town vacations. BUT when, more so how, can we all as AMERICANS unite to stop this thing. How difficult would it be if every single person in the California, the US even, just complete left their vehicles in the garage.

I'm talking about a scene like that in Finding Nemo. For those who have seen the movie should know what I'm talking about. Fish are caught up in a net that being wheeled up above the sea and into a fishing boat, just until Nemo urges every single fish to "swim down, swim down". The cable breaks and the fish are freee.

What is it going to take, how long is it going to take, and who's gonna set the record straight to throw the car keys aside and "swim down." I fear that if we don't, we'll all end up like fish out of water...

 we as american's need to decide whether we want to swim or go belly up...

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It's been 584 days since my eating disorder began. That's one year, seven months, and six days of constant struggling both physically and mentally.

About 213 days into my anorexia, I was running two miles in fourteen minutes- which was a big turn around from my 15 minute mile time in high school. Mentally, I was a wreck, but physically I felt unstoppable, strong, and robotic almost. Summer or Winter, it didn't matter, for I just ran like I had been a marathon runner all my life.

Now that I am mentally stable in my disorder and recovery, I decided it was time. I laced up my tennis shoes and charged up the iPod. Within the first song, I took a deep breath, looked straight ahead and decided to start out easy today. I had the route planned out in my head; no major streets, just a few cul de sacs here and there.

Two minutes into my jog, I swear I felt as if I were a butterfly coming out of it's caccoon for the first time. Sure, it was a little rocky at first but I was beginning to feel a sense of being (for those you who run, I am hoping you can relate to this feeling).

Four minutes in, I began to feel my heart beat like that of a mouse wrapped in the coil of a hungry snake (you know you're gonna die, you just don't when)  . I could feel the various palpitations that my doctor had warned me about so many times.

Five minutes in my legs grew weak and numb. I found myself tripping over my own two feet every few steps.

By the end of the second song, about seven minutes, I had felt like a failure. Walking the rest of the way home, my mind was blank while my body was reminding me of how stupid I was....

I hope my body forgives me someday soon.

So much for thinking I was superman....