unbridled list.

The last couple days I've been keeping track of mini-thoughts and mini-goals that pop into my otherwise empty head. I'm making a list of things I can do to make myself "the best me I can be," (which I think is a recent quote from Heidi Montag, ohmygodshootme-whatatrannymess).

I guess you can say this blog is slowly taking shape as a self-improvement type thing. Instead of awkwardly standing in the Self-Help section of Borders, I'm doing it trial-and-error style. Maybe by publishing my goals in a public arena, I can be held accountable for the times I choose to isolate myself instead of push into the world. For the times I choose crappy Hersheys chocolate over a home-baked treat.

Marjan's "The Best Heidi I Can Be" List

• Take more pictures. They do not need to be beautiful, they just need to document life.
• Fix my nails more often. Severely chipped polish does not make me feel put-together, nor "with-it."
• Walk or run a new route/scene, at least once a week.
• Drink more tea and water.
• Wear more chapstick so I don't bite my lips all the time.
• Read more books. See it as an opportunity to be at peace, quiet, and calm.
• Stretch.
• Cook one new recipe a week.
• Every day, give at least one genuine compliment to someone I'm not particularly close to.

These things are all within reach, therefore hopefully more likely to be achieved. I already got started on a few of the "Best Me Goals" today: Fix my nails (no polish/all natural! gasp!), walk a new route (with Roxy!), cook a new recipe (these!), read a book (this!).

For anyone that visits my blog: What is one small goal you can set for yourself to be the best Heidi Montag you can be?

New blog header, by the way. Let me know what you think. I'm weirdly drawn to old anatomy sketches and skeletons. No hatin'.

a woofy announcement.

It is my pleasure to publicly announce that the pinto bean herself, little miss Roxy, just won the grand prize in Hallmark's cutest dog contest :)

I'm so proud of my muffin.


That foxy girl is my darling and the light of my life. And just as I wrote that, she threw up on my window sill. She has her issues, poor thing. Oftentimes she doesn't realize she's hungry, and ends up vomiting from an empty stomach. I honestly felt guilty for a few weeks because I somehow managed to pass an eating disorder to my own dog. I mean, really? Does everything I touch turn to a mess of rubble?

But for the most part I think I'm an above-average, first-time dog owner. During student-teaching, when I had no way of earning money, I spent much of my savings on quality, grain-free dog food. I spent hours online researching every little thing to make sure I was giving her the best life possible. And I give her all the love I can possibly give.

And she deserves it. Because she's turned the hearts of so many people. From strangers on the street to my own hesitant mother ("There will never be a dog in this home" is now "Can I watch Roxy for a couple months and fly her back to you?"), my baby has been a comical, sweet, exciting joy.

So this is an ode to mah girl.
I love you so much, Mushy.

runs and 'razzi.

I've set out running again, after a several-month hiatus. No, I was not injured, just exhausted during a hectic semester of student-teaching fourth grade.

So in a hysterical twist of fate, I'm finding that I'm running stronger and longer now than ever before. I had one particular three-miler on Wednesday that -- dare I say -- was my best run to date. By the end of the run, I felt strong enough to keep going for at least two more miles, but I had to make myself presentable for dinner with the boyfran. And by "make myself presentable," I mean I sprayed myself with 18 bursts of perfume in lieu of a shower. That's what you get after five years of dating: a neurotic girlfriend who smells like sweat, cold weather, and Viktor & Rolf's Flowerbomb.

The two of us are going to sign up for a 5K. I'm toying with the idea of finding a longer race, because I want slightly more of a challenge (who, me?). I also want to improve my 5K race time, though, which -- back in April '09 -- felt like less of a race and more like "Oh my god it's 80 degrees and SuperMom with BabyStroller is running faster than me."

Eats-wise, I'm finding it easy to transition to a vegan lifestyle. Probably 70 percent vegan, 30 percent vegetarian. The 30 percent represents the times I choose to forgo vegan eats for a more comfortable social setting. I never want to make others feel uncomfortable, and I don't want them to think they have to cook me something completely different. And I cringe whenever I'm at a restaurant and someone asks, "So, is there anything on this menu you can actually eat?" So I stick to side-dishes, dairy or not, and reap the animal guilt/lactose consequences later.

Photo-wise, I put myself through Nikon bootcamp, researching tips and tricks and functions of my D40. I'd planned to go out into the world and take photos, but the sub-20° weather forced me to stay in and be Roxy's papparazzi.


The camera will be accompanying me to New Jersey this weekend for some adventures in skeet-shooting (aw skeet skeet?) and socializing with other practically-married couples.
Goo-bye, muffin tops.

welcome back.

It's a new year, little muffins. I did not make any resolutions, because I resolute quite enough on my own terms, thank you.

I'm in my new winter coat -- black and white -- and the heater smells a little like burning. My little bean, Roxy, is sleeping at my feet. The Nikon battery is charging because I vow to use this neglected camera more often. No, that is not a New Year's resolution.

This is Roxy, by the way, if you have not formally met. She enjoys snacking on baby carrots and various fruits such as pears, apples and watermelon. She is softer than cashmere, models for the camera, but is a tomboy in every sense of the word. I adopted her in Portland almost six months ago, and it was one of the best decisions I've made in my 23 years.
With all that said, I'm leaving her to nap alone in my room while I take my freshly charged camera into the questionable streets of this town.
Hello to the [zero] people who read my words. It feels good to be back, even if I write for myself.