Ugh. Today was a massive fail, and you're probably getting as sick of reading about massive fails as I am of writing them down. I did make it into the gym for my eight a.m. training session with Alyssa, where she tortured me with a variety of ridiculous-looking exercises. Then, she introduced me to this other dude (Art) who specializes more in stretching/alignment issues -- she works out with him herself sometimes and recommended that I see him, since my left side is such a disaster compared to my right side. They spent five minutes circling me and examining my body like it was a used car, commenting on my musculature and posture, etc., before Art confirmed what Alyssa already knew -- my left side is significantly weaker than my right. So, I'm seeing him tomorrow for a full session to see what he recommends -- if I am like a used car in this situation, hopefully he's able to help me increase my resale value (I'm so funny).
After being examined like an insect, I was in a slightly fouler mood than I usually am when leaving the gym, and so I messed around on twitter for a couple of hours, and then ate lunch (a salad that I picked up from the gym and brought home with me). I also did a load of laundry, since the situation (mostly with gym clothes and pajamas) was getting dire. I inadvertently took a nap, since I didn't sleep well last night (nothing to do with Chandlord!), and then relocated to Peet's for awhile in an attempt to get some writing done. I was only marginally successful; I even browsed around Borders for a bit to try to find some inspiration, but it wasn't happening.
So I came home, finally unpacked the Christmas presents I shipped back to myself (all of which made it intact), and was briefly in a better mood from unwrapping all my presents all over again. I ate frozen enchiladas for dinner, proceeded to waste a lot of time on the internet, and then spent the last hour and a half writing in my journal -- not anything related to Madeleine and Ferguson, but helpful nonetheless. I'm coming to the realization that because I'm so used to viciously controlling my emotions, the act of writing can be difficult for me because it involves tapping into all those emotions that I refuse to let myself dwell on (which is probably why I take so many naps/have so many headaches) -- and that I think I use the internet as anesthetic, since my twitter stream certainly serves to wipe out all thoughts of my own.
With that little bit of brooding to depress you, I will attempt to cheer you up with the entertaining thought of me not using the internet for the next few days. I'll still blog, and I need to check email once or twice a day because I've got stuff going on -- but I'm taking the utterly draconian step of charging my unlocked nonsmartphone so that I can switch my sim card over and stop carrying my email/twitter/etc around with me for the next few days. We'll see if I can survive it, but I'm curious about the experiment.
And now, I need to sleep; since I don't have to be to the gym until eleven, that gives me a chance to get up and write beforehand (which I am endeavoring to be excited about, and attempting to reassure myself that it will happen and that I won't just pound my head on my desk in frustration). Goodnight!
No comments:
Post a Comment