run away...

sunday i went for a run. i shit you not, an actual RUN! sure, i was only gone for 7 minutes, but still. a journey of a thousand steps starts with one (and all that other malarky), right? right.

i have never been a runner. not even close. i've danced pretty much my whole life, and did cheerleading in high school, but never did any of that really involve running. a run, to me, is torturous in oh-so-many ways. the jarring of my bones together with each step, the wheezing, the light-headed-ness. most of the time, i feel like there is an actual hole in my throat when i am running, and sometimes i think i just might die from lack of oxygen. my lungs feel as if they are being wrung out like a wet sponge, and my face feels so red and swollen that it might just explode. you can see why i don't run very often.

i have however, experienced some of the benefits. once you get better at it, it's a lot easier, and almost even refreshing at times. there is, of course, also the amazing sense of accomplishment that comes along with it. the pride is the part i like, along with the satisfying next-day-aches.

the only time that i ever truly enjoyed running was in santa barbara. living in a dorm where i knew no one, i often found myself with new people trying new things that i never would have imagined doing before. one of these things was running. since my friend nicky excels at peer pressure, (i think he might even have majored in it), he was often the one pushing me into these things. and so thanks to him, one fall-like evening in october we went for a run. and to my complete surprize, it wasn't so bad. i wasn't totally converted, but throughout the year, nicky and i did go running every once in awhile.

a run in isla vista is different. it's different from a run in LA, different from a run around my high school track, different from a run in downtown san jose. and i miss it. since college, everytime i have ever gone for a run, i have always tried to mentally transport myself to IV. running along the cliffs, the ocean breeze blowing softly against my cold sweaty body, the salty scent in the crisp fall air, the crash of the waves along the sand, the view of the orange and fading sun setting over the flat blue water. it was truly breathtaking.

and it spoiled me on running anywhere else.

6625 Abrego Road

sometimes i long for such simple things from the past. just now i was thinking about one of the places i lived in santa barbara. the house itself wasn't that great, but it was the first time i had had my own room in, well, years. close to 5 years, actually. it was small (the queen size mattress i had stacked on my futon took up the majority of the space, with barely room for a desk and my tele,) narrow, and had dark green carpet; all of which made me feel like i was living on a pool table. thankfully there was a built-in bookcase, because there certainly wasn't room for a free-standing one. it was tiny, but it was all mine, and i loved it. it was safe and cozy. in that room i started my first blog, took an obscene amount of self-portraits, drank my first homemade cosmo (alone), and watched way too much elimidate (while eating an entire can of pringles.) it was my sanctuary.

this morning while i was walking to the bathroom at work, i for some unknown reason flashed on that room; the closet, in particular. for how small the room was, the closet was disproportionately large. it was a walk-in closet, with no door. since i didn't have any cats yet (pets are virtually forbidden in any Isla Vista apartment), i had the luxury of hanging a sheer white curtain in the doorway. (said sheer white curtain is currently sitting folded in my linen closet at home, unused since the arrival of my two koshki. if you are a cat owner, you well know that the words *sheer* and *cats* do not go together...)

anyways, i loved this closet, for no particular reason. it was just big and private and had a pretty curtain, and i could cry in it if i felt the need. and this morning i missed it. now that i live with 2 cats and a Russian, i don't have a lot of *alone-time*. our closet is giant, but it's not all that great for crying in.

and unfortunately, there's no pretty curtain either.