|Out the other side of the wormhole
||[Jun. 18th, 2013|05:42 pm]
Okay, this will no doubt be disjointed, but it’s like your first day at the gym after not going for a while. I mean, you probably had a good reason to stop going in the first place, like oh, you’ve got this renaissance faire thing that’s going to eat up 11 weeks of your life, turning each week into a seven day workweek and each day into a 12-20 hour workday. And then for giggles, you throw in throwing a big surprise party for your parents, done from a distance. And three business trips. And other stuff that may pale in importance, but manages to infiltrate whatever interstices of free time you had left. And then you haven’t gone to the gym in so long that GOING seems like such a chore. The guilt from NOT going becomes a ball and chain that would now have to be dragged along with you and well, it seems far easier to NOT go, even when some of those interstices open up a little.
Because you know how hard that first time will be. You’ve lost the routine, and you’re not sure what’s worse – no one recognizing you anymore or having to address the questions or ribbing about being gone so long. You’re going to be all out of shape. Again. And dragging your kit bag of guilt and self-disappointment around the room, machine to machine, where it’s pointless to try and remember the settings on everything because now you’ve been gone so long that you’re going to have to start from scratch.
That first time you go to do an arm curl and damn near rip your bones out of their sockets because you really can’t lift that much anymore. So you move the pin down one and try….expletive…and move it down another notch…and the whole time, you’re certain everyone in the room is snickering at your clearly delusional idea of how strong you are. Each snick downwards of that pin another tick mark on the checklist of what a loser you are.
And you just can’t FACE that, so you flop on the couch and pick up the remote. Tomorrow, you think, I can handle it tomorrow.
That’s been me and writing lately. (Okay, I’ve also lived that scenario at the gym, the pool, the barn, the refrigerator.) Much easier to kill those infrequent moments of spare time cruising lame-ass facebook updates, or watching videos of baby sloths. (Seriously, I have four cats in my house, on me, around me at all times. The LAST thing I need is to watch them on the screen. Instead I watch sloths and fantasize about pets that would just hang from a pole somewhere, could be easily outrun and if you turn them upside down in a bowl, they just lay there looking adorable and goofy. For hours.)
And part of what’s kept me away has been feeling the need to not let you down. Not phone it in. I have dozens of semi-launched posts that have just demanded more brain and time than I had to spare, so there they sit, gathering electronic dust. I didn’t want to just spit out some disconnected flotsam and jetsam, plumped up with links to things I found interesting because I couldn't manage to stich a decent analogy together. After being away so long, I didn’t want to disappoint, first time out…move that pin down the stack of weights.
But seriously, at some point you’ve got to grab yourself by the shorthairs and just expletive start. Or you'll die.
Here’s a random link to a post I found interesting and attitudinal: http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/wonkblog/wp/2013/05/24/these-31-charts-will-destroy-your-faith-in-humanity/
Because even if this post sucks…
I’ve been on Facebook an awful lot lately, people and your brains are being worn away, passing along meaningless crap that someone else only slightly more creative produced, drifting about in the wallows of self-pity and cries for attention from people who forgotten how to self-soothe and now rely on the “likes” of others to prop up their self-esteem and substitute for real affirmation. Seriously. It’s like junkfood or bad television – a little is a great treat and fun. But if you wouldn’t let your kid eat junk food for days on end, or watch 8 hours of television a day? You’d tell them that first they need to eat dinner and not ruin their appetite with Doritos. You’d tell them that 2 hours of cartoons was enough, now get the hell outside and to play. Right?
If not, then well, it's your life. But I still think you probably should find something better to throw your brain against. I’m not saying THIS is it. (There ARE actually limits to my hubris.) But I got you to look away, didn’t I?