Well, it’s official.  I’m crazy.  And have trouble realizing the full implications of my decisions before I implement them.  I decided to do a juice fast and chronicle how it’s going each day.  Right now, the end couldn’t feel further away.  As I write this, all I want is a package of sodium-packed, chew-able creamy chicken ramen.

I recently began a new job at a chiropractic clinic.  Chiropractic is a more natural attempt at healing, and along with it comes the drive towards good nutrition.

Last week, the doctors and clinic employees started a 7-day juice fast, encouraging me to join them in detoxifying our bodies.  This sounded like a great idea for various reasons…I want to be healthier, I like juice, and I want to impress my new employers.  I didn’t have any vegetables or a juicer, or any time to get vegetables or a juicer, so my sisters (a.k.a. roommates) and I decided to start our juice fast today.  We got this fantastic juicer from our mom:

It belonged to my grandmother, presumably in the 1950’s.  She had it when my mom was a kid, and now my mom is lending it to us.  Isn’t it cute?  Me being the vintage-inspired interior decorator-type that I am got all excited about this whole thing just because the juicer is awesome.

Well, today was day one of our juice-only diet.  We made a juice mix of apples, celery, beets, beet greens, carrots and ginger root.  It actually didn’t taste that bad.  At first, I felt as though it was going great.  The juice was yummy, and whenever my stomach complained of not eating normal food, I’d take a swig of the juice and the feeling would go away.  As the day wore on, work got crazy busy and a few difficult patients later, I realized that I wasn’t going to get to go home and eat dinner.  I was going to continue drinking the same juice I’d been drinking all day.  Luckily, it was a super busy day, so I was distracted from the thought of no food.  I got off work very late, ran home, changed my clothes and headed out to Bible study an hour later than I’d hoped.  After a very busy day and after Bible study, I finally got to come home…only to spend 2 hours juicing.  I’m certain that a newer juicer would be a tad more effective (and faster!), but this adorable little snail is what we’ve got.

How am I feeling?  I have a dull headache that’s been creeping up all day, possibly due to a lack of water intake and more likely due to depriving my body of the junk I’ve been feeding it for the last 30 years.  I feel hungry, and my body is craving something I can physically sink my teeth into.  I’m pretty exhausted, but I worked over 10 hours today and it’s now after 11pm, so that’s to be expected.  But all in all, I’m ok.  I hear the first three days are the worst, with each day getting successively harder than the last, but that day four you feel a lot better.

Day one down.  Day two tomorrow.  I’m off to bed before I eat something I shouldn’t.

Yulia Brodskaya is such an amazing artist.  She uses paper to make amazing designs. Check more out by doing a Google Image search of her name, or visit her website here: http://www.artyulia.com/

maxshimasu-concordia:

JungleBird by Yulia Brodskaya for GoogleChrome

Ladies and gentlemen of the class of ‘99:

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable then my own meandering experience.  I will dispense this advice now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, nevermind, you won’t understand the power and beauty of your youth until they’ve faded, but trust me in 20 years, you’ll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can’t grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine.

Don’t worry about the future, or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubblegum.

The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind: the kind that blindside you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday.

Do one thing every day that scares you.

Sing.

Don’t be reckless with other people’s hearts; don’t put up with people who are reckless with yours.

Floss.

Don’t waste your time on jealousy.  Sometimes you’re ahead, sometimes you’re behind.  The race is long, and in the end, it’s only with yourself. Remember compliments you receive; forget the insults. (If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.)

Keep your old love letters; throw away your old bank statements.

Stretch.

Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with your life.  The most interesting people I know didn’t know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives; some of the most interesting 40 year olds I know still don’t.

Get plenty of calcium.  Be kind to your knees — you’ll miss them when they’re gone.

Maybe you’ll marry, maybe you won’t.  Maybe you’ll have children, maybe you won’t.  Maybe you’ll divorce at 40; maybe you’ll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary.

Whatever you do, don’t congratulate yourself too much or berate yourself, either.  Your choices are half chance, so are everybody else’s.

Enjoy your body: use it every way you can.  Don’t be afraid of it or what other people think of it; it’s the greatest instrument you’ll ever own.

Dance…even if you have no where to do it but in your own living room.

Read the directions (even if you don’t follow them).

Do not read beauty magazines; they will only make you feel ugly.

Get to know your parents; you never know when they’ll be gone for good.

Be nice to your siblings: they’re your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.

Understand that friends come and go, but for the precious few, you should hold on.  Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people you knew when you were young.

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard.

Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft.

Travel.

Accept certain inalienable truths: prices will rise, politicians will philander, you too will get old; and when you do, you’ll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble, and children respected their elders.

Respect your elders.

Don’t expect anyone else to support you.  Maybe you have a trust fund, maybe you’ll have a wealthy spouse, but you never know when either one might run out.

Don’t mess too much with your hair or by the time you are 40, it will look 85.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it.  Advice is a form of nostalgia; dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal—wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts, and recycling it for more than it’s worth.

But trust me on the sunscreen…

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An unused commencement speech, Written by Mary Schmich, adapted by Baz Luhrmann

Why thank you, kind sir!