I Should Never Speak Words

If you know me, you know I have a thing with words. With all humility I can muster, I am not terrible at writing, in fact, I think it’s one of my strongest attributes. Not to say that I have an overwhelming vocabulary, but I think I can string a few nice lines together. Verbally, not so much.

I should probably just not be allowed to speak. Too many words have I butchered the pronunciation without even realizing, until of course someone shouts it in my face. Paradigm, satiety, and traipsing to name some of the more recent words. Phrases are also something I should very much stay away from and not just because they’re cliche.

For example, when my mom asked me how my car was driving after it’s surgery (new battery), I told her it “was smooth as a sailor.” She kept talking past it so I thought I had gotten away with my mistake, but she made a point to mention that was not the correct statement near the end of conversation. It’s smooth as…well, actually, I can’t remember. The sea, maybe? In which case, I was close.

Perhaps the worst of all was when I explained to a friend how some guy gave me attitude. The expression is “gave me lip,” but I said “gave me tongue,” which is just completely wrong to say out loud to someone. He was very calm in correcting me, but I still had to slap face to palm. Or is it palm to face? I DON’T KNOW!

My sister says my struggle is because I am a strong and frequent reader. I must pick up my vocabulary from reading, which means I wouldn’t necessarily hear the words. I am also a champion speller, which backs up the reading theory.

What I think she’s trying to say is that I’m a genius and I overwhelm everyone with my unique ability to bypass every rule in the English language and just go with what sounds right in my own damn brain.

Point 1: Caitlin. Point 0: World.

Let’s see, for food, the past few days. Breakfast yesterday was peanut butter pancakes, lunch was a cheese, spinach, and red pepper quesadilla, and dinner was turkey tacos.

Yesterday was my rest day from official exercise, but I did go for a refreshing, brisk walk around my neighborhood.

Today, I had a piece of wheat toast with a smear of peanut butter and half a banana before my workout. Post-workout, I had a cup of Greek yogurt with blueberries and granola. Lunch was out with my mom and it was a Greek salad with toasted ravioli. Yum!

I killed it at the gym this morning. I started off with an awesome Spin class that wrecked my legs (in a good way) and finished off with a few strength circuits. First, I mixed up triceps and chest exercises and followed it up with leg and core workouts.

Some shopping, dining, and studying followed.

Happy Friday, people! Hug your loved ones a little harder, live your lives a little brighter, be kind, forgive, and relax.

I Sound Like Adele (When I Sing in the Shower)

If there’s one thing I regret from my time in the womb, it’s not honing my singing voice more. Okay, I know that’s not how things work, but wouldn’t it be kind of cool? If our strengths and weaknesses were based off of training we did before we were born. You know what? This conversation is getting wacky. The point is…

When I sing in the shower, I sound just like Adele, I’m sure of it. There is something about the acoustics in the shower- I’m sure it’s a thing- that allows you to hit all the right notes. I think it must have something to do with the hot water opening up your throat to reach new depths. I’m also talking out of my ass right now. Oddly enough, when I sing in my head, I nail the vocals too. Maybe I just have a strange perception of myself.

What you should take from this conversation is that if I could sing, I would be the biggest music star in the world right now and you all would be weeping at my feet due to my tender, agonizing words and haunting melodies. Semantics.

Another wonder of the world is the missing sock. I am particular when it comes to running, in regards to what I wear, eat and drink before, and time of day. I take a lot of precision when it comes to my runs, in a weird superstitious kind of way, because I live in fear of having to suffer through it. One thing I love are my Saucony striped socks that I wear religiously when I exercise. There are no socks like it that offer the comfort, without the bulkiness, I need.

I also live in fear of losing one of these socks because I couldn’t bear it if I had to throw the lone sock left behind. It’s already happened once, but last night, I thought my pink striped sock fell victim and I was devastated.

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I did a little digging and found it sitting cold, wet, and afraid in the washing machine. Phew.

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For the record, I wore these socks on my run outside- it was SO nice out!- and I rocked it. Message proven.

This was a strange little post.