the 'new' me

Yesterday, between working a full day, spending four hours at the computer cartography lab, and making healthy mac and cheese: take two*, I did something I don’t think I’ve ever done.  I went for a run.  A what now?, you may ask.  Reba, you’ve never run a day in your life.  Okay, well maybe for that week you were on the field hockey team in junior high school**, but aside from that, nothing. Recently I’ve even had occasion to mention that I could bike 100 miles (probably more) but ask me to run a mile and I’ll inevitably fail.

Well, the new me decided that she wanted to try this running thing.  I got bundled up and headed out around 9:30 last night for the very first run of my life.  Two miles and about 25 minutes later I decided that maybe I could get into this.  I totally didn’t run the whole time.  I’d say it was about 60/40, run/walk, which I think isn’t too bad for a first go at it.  We’ll see how this running thing progresses.  I’m disappointed that I won’t be able to get out tonight due to the frumpy snow storm sitting on top of Chicago right now, but last night will definitely not be my first and last time running.

Any tips or music suggestions would be greatly appreciated.

* This time I halved the amount of pasta, didn’t use squash, and added cauliflower, broccoli, sweet potato (my new fav), jalapeno pepper, and shredded cabbage.  I paired it with a lovely 2010 Tecate.
**I took me an entire week to realize that my academic competitiveness did not translate to sports at all.  And I didn’t enjoy being hit in the shin with wooden sticks either.  Field hockey girls can be nasty little things.

last night

inside my head

• I am quite pleased when things that I learned in church help me with crosswords puzzle (or with anything else), because then I feel as if going there three times a week for eighteen years wasn’t a complete waste.
• Buffalo Bleu Kettle chips taste odd.  I knew I should have stuck with Salt & Pepper.
• I become obsessed rather easily with albums/songs/artists/authors.*
• The ways in which I behave around men I find attractive are horrifying.  Generally one of three things happen: 1) I get all googly-eyed and smiley and can’t think of a thing to say; 2) I get all googly-eyed and smiley and babble on and on about absolutely nothing, or worse, something completely inappropriate; or 3) I act a bit aloof and become entirely too sarcastic.  Why can’t I just act right?

*e.g. I can’t even tell you how many consecutive days I’ve listened to “Party in the U.S.A.”  After reading Midnight’s Children I think I read five more Salam Rushdie novels in a row.  The number of times I’ve listened to “Haven’t Met You Yet” today - and I’m sure there will still be a few more. 

places that are not here

I have been trying my hardest not to constantly wish I were someplace else.  I find that it’s easy for me to think that if I were just not here, somewhere better, that all would be well.  That I would be so filled with happiness and light that it would be bursting out of me.  I know that’s about as likely as me becoming an olympic athlete*.  So, I keep it check.

But a girl’s allowed to daydream sometimes.  And I can’t image life being anything less than sunshine and puppies if this were what I woke up to every morning.

*Dear god,
If it were possible for someone to become an all-star athlete at the age of twenty-eight, with no prior experience, I’m your girl.  I would be most obliged if it were in biathlon, or ice dancing.
Regards,
Rebekah

(images via grass doe)

on names, specifically my own

I just saw this post from twentysomething wanderlust and I thought I’d see what urban dictionary had to say about my name.

(I’m named after Rebekah, wife of Isaac, and even had a book about the story* as a child.)

I’ve had a few conversations recently about my name/nicknames and how I sometimes feel like they don’t suit me at all.  I feel odd introducing myself and saying my name out loud at times.

Growing up and until I moved to Chicago three years ago, eveyone called me Becky.  I never liked it much, but I could never change it.  I would start a new school year or job and I’d only introduce myself as Rebekah, but eventually everyone would be calling me Becky.

Now, no one calls me that (expect for a few old friends).  It’s now Reba, Reebs, or Rebekah.  All of which I like, but I’m often not sure which to use, and Reba and Reebs always feel clumsy coming out of my mouth.  I sometimes tell new people to call me whichever they feel most comfortable with.  None of them quite feel like me and I’m not sure how to handle that.  Or if there is anything is ‘handle’.  Maybe it has less to do with the names and more to do with me.  I’ve changed a lot since moving to Chicago and maybe in, let’s say, shedding my skin, the name (Becky) went along with it.  But I still don’t feel completely comfortable in this new skin, at least not yet.

I suppose it’s just one of those little things that one deals with.  Or, can I keeping trying names until one fits just right, Goldilocks style?

But rest assured my friends, whatever you may call me, I do have a ridiculously ‘banging personality’.

* The story of Isaac and Rebekah - See, Abraham, Isaac’s father, wanted his son to marry a woman of God, so he sent a servant back to his home land to find a wife for Isaac.  The servant didn’t know how he was going to find the right woman, so he asked God for a sign.  And the sign was, if he asked a woman for a drink of water and then she offered to get water for his camels as well (camels drink tons of water y’all) then she was the one.  Guess what guys?  Rebekah offered to water those damn camels.  So Abraham’s servant went to Rebekah’s parent and basically bought her and took her back to Isaac.  How romantic, right?  And I don’t even want to get into their kids - Jacob and Esau.