| Now |


7 July 2009, 01:00

So, I was lazy yesterday. I felt terrible about it. And I gained three pounds which pisses me off. The thing is that it’s not the weight that I think matters, or it’s vanity that makes me feel slightly anguished about the three pounds, it’s that I’m trying to get lighter so my frame can handle running. I love running. I thought I would never say something like that. I always said I was deathly allergic to exercise and effort. My motivation waned a bit this morning but I woke up so early that I have time to build it up again.

I have the track to do, and bills to pay today. I need to get somethings signed and notarized but I’m waiting for my roommate’s delinquent funds. I have a growing yearning to gobble up a pint of Chunky Monkey, but the resulting remorse and regret would send me into a tizzy. I wish my leg would be totally well. It’s getting much better, but I still have to take an inordinate amount of ibuprofen and worry about what THAT is doing to me. It allows me to run a bit, and if I can’t run, I would sit in Hee Haw in a cloud of depression.

I’m looking better and feeling better. But I am getting increasingly annoyed at some of the more southern, country-fied parts of my life. I am SICK to FUCKING DEATH of a landlord who’s attitude is from the 1950s giving me advice on my personal life. I’m sick to death of people being in my business. If I fucking dance down the street, do you think I fucking KNOW it? That I don’t kneed some doddy old man telling me that “people” say I’m crazy? Fuck that. I grab the tiniest bits of happiness I can get here in HELL and you want me to act right? As if being different is acting wrong? Take a pill pops, or evict me, but shut the hell up. I survived without parents and parenting for 25 years, I don’t need it now.

Rant over.

Flotsam & Jetsam Section:

I’ve never had grits. Friday, I’m going to have grits for breakfast. Yee haaa.

Milo needs a haircut. He’s shedding enough hair from which I could knit an Afgan.

The fourth of July is coming up. I need to think on that, on how me, an America-hating, commie, elitist liberal feels about it. I’ll get back to you on that.

Having a roommate might have been a mistake. Well. Having this one might be. I’m starting to want one that is more… normal. Although, I like the fact I don’t see her much, that means most of the time I don’t get to see roommate fundage that much either. She hasn’t crossed the “okay-get-the-fuck-out” line. I’m just waiting, giving her rope to hang herself with. Wait. No. Knowing her the way I do now, let’s not do that. Maybe I just want to be mad at her for some ungodly reason. Maybe I need to be more forgiving and less … evil. I need to be more understanding. I need litium. I need something.

It’s hot and sometimes muggy – not too different from home. The bugs are horrendous and numerous in volume and variety. And I’m deathly afraid of bugs, and apparently a mosquito magnet. Oh yay.

I love my dog Buddy so much, but I feel guilty that he’s bored all the time. Me and the other two ancient, couch potato dogs just sit around being glad we aren’t dead while Buddy longs to play out in the yard with kids or SOMEBODY. He just wants to play, and us the old’uns of the family don’t. He needs kids. He needs to be with a family. He loves us to death but he needs more than a lazy old lady and two old dogs with issues.

Sigh. I guess it’s time to make myself do stuff. Double yay.

  • Later ***

So, I’m back. Motivation was hard to find, but I pushed through. I feel good, and got a bit of exercise. I met a nice lady who apparently knows me – or she sees me at the track all the time and said “I noticed you are getting stronger”. We got to talking and she does the same sort of work out I do, with the same goals. She measures progress the same way I do. She’s a teacher. She seemed so cool. I have to admit, not everybody in Forest Shitty is a horrible example of human reproduction. Especially at the track. Progressive woman are at the track – especially if they are a little older. You get the young girls who are in shape, who’ve always been like that and are just there to keep up their Athenian-like body. Then you have the ones that drive to the track, have about 200 dollars of workout clothes on, one of those ipods with the athletic armband and really expensive new shoes. They do three laps and go home. And you come to me – and folks like me. We are pretty normal looking, in t-shirts and shorts, struggling around the track.

Today, it was a struggle. Leg hurt more than it should, but I got my goals accomplished. I REALLY want to cut back on the ibuprofen and I’ve discovered I shouldn’t really miss a day because the body really rebels when you come back to try and start back up again. But I pushed myself – not beyond my limits, but pushed just to complete what i started.

I like the track. I feel good there.