Things That Make You Go Hmm..

When pigs lose their voice are they disgruntled?

Committing and why it's like trying to get blood out of a stone(but you can't get blood out of a stone...can you?)

I could make an agonizingly long opening sentence about what an age it has been since my last blog, but I won't..wait.. Despite the fact it is already proving to be quite the epic balls up, I do in fact wish to make a point in this post and as the title states, I am going to talk about committing.

What is committing?

As I tucked myself into bed last night with my grandpa bear hot water bottle, steaming cuppa and a retainer as all teenagers do, there was only one thought on my mind, running. I had it all planned out: Up at 6am, change into sportswear, sprint for 20 minutes before school. It was the classic night before excitement of an ingenious plan, a new beginning. This was the new Aliel, the up before sunrise, all singing all squatting athlete. So what did I do at 6 this morning when the delightful bell chimes rung in my ear, the title of my alarm 'getcho ass up' flashing charmingly in my face, I wiped the sleet from my eyes, stretched out my limbs, and slammed one determined hand onto...the snooze button. Yes, 2 hours of my overactive imagination the previous night spent sighing with contentment at the mental image conjured up, flawless abs and brilliant buns, yet alas what was to win out in the end but the age old dormancy, the fickle wants of a pampered conscience. I suppose a more fitting title for this section would have been what isn't committing, my story does have a satisfying end however.

So ten minutes and 4000 (exaggeration, more like 3900) uncomfortable position shifts later found me twisting the blankets irritably and feeling extremely sorry for myself. 2 hours of planning and a 5 second decision to say..naah! I gazed over to my left, the metallic sheen of my sports bra staring back at me, judgingly. With a groan of frustration (Ooh-uh!) I threw my blankets to the side, ripping the retainer from my mouth as I marched to the bathroom, for one does not want to go sprinting on a full bladder, potentionally hazardous to many. It was over before I knew it, I returned to the house slightly red in the face, with an attractive gloss on my forehead and despite one small incident in which a dog walker caught me doing a catch-my-breath-awkward-wiggle dance, it had gone smoothly. I'd done it, I just needed to know how good it would feel when it was over, how better my day would be if I'd just overcome that one thing.

'Thank the lord almighty, IT'S OVER!'

No, I wasn't referring to this post, rude. That's just a small example of what one might say when they have achieved or exceeded their goals, albeit a few more swears may be included in that victory. Committing is hard because you are faced with other options, options that in the short term will seem so much more appealing and above all, easier. I started weight training a year ago but didn't truly commit till january this year, every single day I come home and see the large cushy armchair beckoning to me, 'come rest your weary feet young child!' uhh..it might say. Of course even worse than the options is the excuses! I tell myself, well other people aren't doing it so it's okay. The problem is, you're NOT other people. Why be the person who everyone overlooks, why settle for mediocre, in fact why ever settle. It's that elation, not comfort, not contentment but the pure euphoria achieved when you've triumphed over your hardships. That is committing , and thought it can be a long painful process filled with doubts and difficulties, it is always worth it.

...God I'm good.

Armadillo.

Right, be warned. This post is a happy one.

We have a new maths teacher.

Never have I ever seen any man command such respect from a room whilst indeed wearing socks and sandals.

That is all.

Awkward_Donkey.

Pointless Observation of the Week.

The man on the right in the red t-shirt is holding a balloon.

This picture could be perceived as racist. It's not.