Every type-A needs a zumba

Tuesday night at 8:15 pm I went to my first Zumba class. I didn't know what to expect, every infomercial, poster, or workout DVD I saw just had a girl shaking her hair around wearing half of a shirt and that had a 6 pack. But I declared February as "cardio month" and therefore I needed to sweat and I needed to change it up. My roommate Danielle graciously joined me and I embarked on a new fitness endeavour. Zumba drew quite an interesting crowd as the classroom quickly filled up and then a perky, tiny instructor in neon bright clothing bounced in and strapped on her microphone. A Flo Rida song started blaring and we were off and running. I had seen pictures on pintrest captioned "what I think I look like doing zumba" depicting a scene from Step Up 2 and another one that says "what I really look like" with Napoleon Dynamite getting his groove on.... thankfully the room was so packed that I couldn't see myself in a mirror to confirm that assumption. The first song, I was concentrating on the instructor's moves and trying my best to focus on whatever muscle was needed to move that way- hoping to squeeze out the 800 calorie burn that the instructor promised if we worked hard. As I started to get the hang of the moves and the repetition around the 3rd song or so, I suddenly realized that I wasn't counting anything....I wasn't logging my sets.... I didn't look at my watch. I have been counting reps, sets, intervals, circuits, laps, miles, calories, points, RPMs, PERs, and BPMs since I was about 13. Being a self proclaimed type-A personality... I've never minded. "How else are you going to run your life if you don't log it, schedule it, or make a list about it?!" (My reaction to basically anything.) But Zumba didn't require numbers or lists.... it was just dancing and sweating. By the last song I was making Napoleon Dynamite proud and was dancing like nobody was watching and I was also not analyzing which muscles I was working. It was the most refreshing thing I have done in a long time. Granted, I sweated more and was more sore from the High Intensity Interval Training class.... but I'm pretty sure I smiled more at Zumba as I reminisced about my old dance days. And doing a squat while Chris Brown is singing didn't seem as painful as squatting for 30 second intervals while Shawn-T from Insanity is saying "Push it!" I encourage all type-A's to let go every once in a while.... color outside the lines, don't look at the nutrition facts on the back of the box, leave your watch at home, wait until the last minute on a deadline, rinse and don't repeat, have dessert for breakfast.... or just dance!!

Last first day of school, Spring 2013

I'll always remember that on the last first day of college- it snowed. It didn't stick around long, but on January 15, 2013 I put on my warm snow boots that I never get to wear and my white marshmallow jacket and with the furry hood over my head....that in my head I looked like a wintry skiing super model.... and in reality I look like the Michelin man..... and I walked across campus to find my first class. All of the sudden as I got off the bus on campus for the last first time, my senses are heightened and I'm absorbing more than usual. I started to think how familiar everything on campus had become... the sights, the smells, the sounds. Whether things were cool or weird to me freshman year, it has all settled into a routine of sorts. As I walked into the Union, I immediately smelled the Einstein Brothers coffee that already had a line out the door. Such a familiar smell, I had walked through the Union at least 2 times a week for the last 4 years.... but today I took a moment to take it in and then became sad that in 6 months, I would never walk through the UNT Union ever again. Walking past people with obscure piercings and blue hair and inappropriate clothing choices....I think about how I'll probably never interact with a more misfit crew than what you can find on UNT's campus. I won't miss having to add 30 minutes to every task in order to factor in the bus or walking factor. I won't miss the printing factor in any way shape or form. I won't miss waiting in line at the financial aid office for an hour. I won't miss getting up at 6:30 on class registration day, stressing and praying that I get in the classes I want. I won't miss the project/homework/study time that consumed my every waking thought. But I'll miss the beautiful rec center where I worked out my frustration with a cast of characters that I don't even know their names but I've been working out beside them for 4 years. I'll miss the art building- even though it isn't pretty..... I basically lived there and grew up there. I'll miss seeing the BSM building, because that's where I met my dearest friends and the love of my life and I'm eternally grateful for that. I'll miss my familiar 3 mile running path around campus that has helped me with my first 5k, 2 break-ups, 2 portfolio reviews, a triathlon, lose 10 lbs, and a half-marathon. Besides learning about a field that I'm completely in love with, UNT also taught me about myself. It has raised me to become the woman I am going to be for the rest of my life.

I'll never stop writing

Although I haven't posted any blogs since June 2012, I never stopped writing. When I'm walking to class, grocery shopping, or running....especially running.... I'm writing in my head. I've been listening to audio books while I'm training for my first half-marathon and when I write in my head- I imagine the narrator of Safe Haven also reading my words. It's not my own voice, it's a much calmer, soothing voice that reads my words back to me. I've been writing about running of course... funny instances like "If I ever do actually get hit by a car while I'm running, I hope it's more of an Elf moment than actual pain." (referencing the Christmas movie in which Will Ferrel gets hit by a taxi and just stiffly lands on the hood and keeps going, sharing the advice later that, "The yellow ones don't stop.") I write about the defeat you can feel while running when you just have to stop and the confidence that comes when you can tell people "Yea, I ran 10 miles this morning." While my boyfriend Matt was at firefighting boot camp for 2 weeks, I wrote about missing him and realizing how I took how safe I feel with him for granted. I wrote about how I oddly missed him the most when I had to go get groceries without him and how he makes the little mundane things more fun. And when he got back, I was inspired by the Tim McGraw song "One of those nights" that talks about how you can just tell when you're going to remember a moment for the rest of your life.... and when I came home from work on January 18th, after not hearing from him all day, and had a dozen roses and a note that said "I missed you" next to my bed and immediately took off running to Matthew's apartment..... I knew I was going to remember that moment for the rest of my life. Then I started writing about time..... and how right now my freshman year of college seems like "a long time ago" and that in about 10 years.... I'll lump my college years together and talk about them in one blurred notion. Right now every week brings a new phase a new thought a new blessing or a new challenge.... but down the road it will all be one chunk of my life. These and other thoughts will find their ways from my head and my heart onto the keyboard.

The Rules of Gibbs: For Interior Designers

The Rules

Rule #1: Never let multiple clients stay together.

Rule #1: Never screw over your project manager.

Rule #2: Always wear work boots at a jobsite.

Rule #3: Don't believe what you're told. Double check your measurements.

Rule #3: Never be unreachable…have your Blackberry glued to you at all hours.

Rule #4: The best way to keep a secret? Keep it to yourself. Second best? Tell one other person - if you must. There is no third best. Accept you should probably tell the project manager…..

Rule #5: You don't waste good ideas.

Rule #6: Never say "You're Sorry." It's a sign of weakness. Say “I apologize” it’s much more professional.

Rule #7: Always be specific when you lie….. but it better not be on the construction documents.

Rule #8: Never take anything for granted. Including laser’s that measure the ceiling height for you.

Rule #9: Never go anywhere without a measuring tape.

Rule #10: Never get personally involved in a project.

Rule #11: When the job is done, walk away….as fast as you can walk in heels.

Rule #12: Never date a co-worker…or an architect…or a contractor….or an engineer.
Rule #13: Never, ever involve a lawyer.
Rule #15: Always work as a team.
Rule #16: If someone thinks they have the upper hand, break it…. With a strongly worded email.
Rule #18: It's better to seek forgiveness than ask permission….unless it involves a load-bearing wall and a sledge-hammer.
Rule #22: Never, ever bother a contractor on concrete pour day.
Rule #23: Never mess with a designer's coffee... if you want to live.
Rule #27: There are two ways to follow someone. First way, they never notice you. Second way, they only notice you…when you’re checking the contractor’s work behind their back.
Rule #35: Always watch the giant crane….it’s cool.
Rule #36: If you feel like you are being played by the sales reps, you probably are.
Rule #38: Your project, your lead.
Rule #39: There is no such thing as coincidence.
Rule #40: If it seems like the engineer is out to get you, they are.
Rule #42: Never accept an apology from someone who just sucker punched you…figuratively in a strongly worded email.
Rule #44: First things first, hide the women and children…on demolition day.
Rule #45: Clean up the mess that you make...on painting day.
Rule #51: Sometimes - you're wrong.

Rule #69: Never trust a woman who doesn't trust her man.

Red, white, and blue spandex

This Sunday I participated in the Wounded Warrior 10k and Half Marathon. I finished the 10k (6 miles) in just under an hour. In that hour all you can really do is think, observe, and be in pain. Luckily 2 of these benefit my blogging. Being the Wounded Warrior Project's race, there were patriots all over the place! It was enough to make you tear up as people were running with shirts on that said "I'm running for my son." and everyone who ran by her would say- "Tell your son thank you." A group of grandma's sported pink camo in honor of the troops. One couple ran the whole race each carrying the end of an American flag. Military men and women ran with huge backpacks on...which I can assume were not filled with cotton balls or feathers. Red, white, and blue spandex, sweat bands, and even hair could be seen amongst the crowd. It was very encouraging from a runner's standpoint as well as an American. It was harder to stop and walk when I see the guys running with the backpacks. It was harder to walk when I saw a Dad trudging along with his daughters name written on his calves. It was hard not to feel a sense of camaraderie with complete strangers running right beside you. We were there for a common cause- to run and to support our troops.

When last we left them....

I believe the last post about Chapter 1 of When Matthew met Kasey, left off with him picking me up for our first date. One extremely different thing about how me and Matt started off was that we weren't friends before the date. It was pretty much a cold call- like the dates you see in movies. Sometimes couples can't even define their first date because they always hung out when they were friends and then just slowly made the transition. If you go on a date with a friend- you already know them. All I knew about Matt before our first date was that he was from Leonard, played football, and that he was tall & handsome. So our first date was filled with the basic general questions about each other. But before we could get to the questions.... we had to park. It was a crowded parking lot and Jenny's a big truck...and that combined with being nervous.... caused Matthew to have to re-park the truck about 5 times. I immediately made a mental note that if this thing worked out- I would have to remember to make fun of him, but for now I would smile and make sure he knew that I wasn't judging him on his parking skills. When we went to sit on a bench outside to wait for our table, I remember sitting awkwardly far from him and regretting it because I couldn't hear him that well and I didn't want him to think I didn't like him already- but it was too awkward to scoot closer. While I'm trying to figure out a smooth way to move closer to him, we talk about our family and how we grew up. When we got to the table we were both relieved to be sitting where we could both see TVs. "I was watching the Ranger's before we left, I was hoping to see the end." I said. Then he confessed, "I was watching the Longhorn's game before we left and was hoping to catch it too." (Imagine the light bulb noise happening in our heads) We then began to talk about sports for a good percentage of the time- both the teams and people we loved and what we played ourselves. I breathed sighs of reliefs when he hated the people my Dad hated and loved the people he loved- it just makes things easier. haha. To this day it's a subject we can't talk enough about. I love watching him talk about football, he gets so passionate and excited- I wish I could've seen him play. When we had exhausted sports Matt asked, "So when did you become a Christian?" It was so bold a question it caught me by surprise but I was excited to talk about it. We then talked about our spiritual walks and what the Lord was doing in our lives... Little did we know that He was doing something pretty big that night. We ate good food and never ran out of things to talk about and my jaw hurt from smiling so much. I later found out that, that night was the first time Matt hadn't  finished a meal.....ever. He claims he was a little distracted. On the way back I made a smart comment about if he was going to be able to get out of the parking spot ok, and talked about our weekend plans. In my head I was trying to figure out how would I kiss him..... he's so tall... I can't get up there....I could pull up a chair....that's stupid.....I could jump..... that's dangerous...... ugh! He walked me up to my door and I said thanks for dinner and hugged him goodbye- eyeing the chair on the porch and then chickening out... and he left. I came back inside and sat on the couch and was mad I didn't kiss him, but couldn't stop smiling either. I immediately typed a text to him that said "I had a good time tonight." and stared at the phone wondering when it would be appropriate the press send. 10 minutes later I sent it and immediately got a text that said "me too. : )" He didn't seem like the cutesy-text-smiley-face sender-all-the-time-guy.....so I thought, this has to be good.

25% Meadow, 75% Traffic & Burnt Toast

The more I observe and experience the more I realize that the majority of work isn't what they taught you in school. Not only does this apply to interior design, but every where. In elementary school, high school, and college we're told by teachers and parents to chase our dreams....dream big....land the dream job! What they didn't tell us is that even if you land the dream job, you'll only be experiencing the dream about 75% of the time. They didn't tell my Dad in the Kineseology department that along with getting all the glory for coaching a winning team to the State championship....he'd also be doing laundry 3 times a week, sweeping the gym floor 6 days a week, running the sounds system, being hospitality for the referees, running a concession stand, and repairing the shoot-a-way. The road to glory isn't glamorous. My interior design classes have yet to talk about invoicing, inspections, correct email etiquette, or rules of the construction site. We talk about concept and the psychology of design about 75% of the time in class....I've talked about it in the "real world" about 5% of the time. Today I went to visit a friend who just had a baby in the maternity ward. While waiting for her I was observing the nurses running around like mad-men, cleaning rooms and filing. I started thinking...I bet when they were in school they thought they'd just get to take care of people and take care of babies- I bet they didn't imagine 75% of their time would be spent mopping the floor because a guest of one of the patients spilled a Coke or alphabetizing medical records. My former boss Jeff Miller once gave me the advice that when I go back to school "make everything a meadow". After interning with them for a summer, he was worried that they had hardened me to the real world and that all my projects would become ultra practical. For my year left in college I will try my best to make everything the coolest meadow possible. Even though the real world is really 25% meadow, and 75% construction, traffic, dental cleanings, calling customer service, and burnt toast.