Hey, look at me, darlings — I’m blogging!
Don’t fret, I’ll be back to writing as soon as I recover from NaNOMYGODIWROTEANOVELINAMONTHWriMo.
Seems odd — it’s exhausting, and one has to gauge whether it’s worth it to write a novel in one month if it means that when the month is over, you don’t want to write anything.
Whether you should pace yourself, and if that might be better. Whether ’tis nobler to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune…
Hey, I’ll take an outrageous fortune…
That’s not what that means, Helena…
What, so suddenly you’re a Shakespeare scholar? (And yes, that should be read with a Jewish New Yorker — think Jackie Mason — accent.)
Have I ever told you I sometimes dream entirely in dialogue from Hamlet, taken out of context? I once had a dream that I was sitting at a Kentucky Fried Chicken (which would never happen…. shudder) and I suddenly lifted up a spent chicken carcass and launched into the whole “Yorick’s skull” bit from the grave site scene.
“A chicken of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rises at it.”
“Yes, our food has that effect on most people,” the pimply faced KFC employee, dressed like a gravedigger, says.
“Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft.”
‘Um, Miss,” the kid says, “chickens don’t have lips.”
And then of course, I have no argument, so I wake up.
But I digress. I do that, darlings. I also make a mean Thai curry and can correctly answer the question “How many members of R.E.M. are there?” (Hint, it’s not as easy as you’d think — and no Googling, dammit!)
I’ve started back at the gym, because I never really meant to stop, it just happened. Here are some observations from the last couple of days. Take this as advice, or as a cautionary tale, or merely for your amusement.
In no particular order (because that’s how my brain works):
1) Success is not measured in calories but in the number of times you resist calling off or tapping out.
p) I no longer fear death. I know exactly what it feels like now. Some people call it “the burn”. Fuck those people. I’m dying here.
4) 5:30 in the morning comes very early. I mean seriously — when do farmers go to the gym? The next time you’re having milk or eggs or cheese or a hamburger, or chicken fajitas (mmm… Fajitas) make sure you thank a farmer who, instead of going to school for some liberal arts education which would qualify him or her to serve coffee or work at a call center, gets up at an ungodly hour every single day seven days a week 365 days a year so that you can have chicken McNuggets and milk on your cocoa puffs. Thank you, farmers. Holy shit, thank you, you underpaid, unappreciated angels.
j) Disintegration by The Cure might just be the best damn album to work out to ever. Hear me out. It has some upbeat songs, (Lovesong, Fascination Street) but the real
advantage that the album has is that if you make a deal with yourself to work out for one more song, well, you just committed to about 10 minutes. Plus (and I’ve said this before) listening to Robert Smith makes me feel positively emotionally and mentally healthy. Also, it’s like a cautionary tale: If you don’t cheer up, darling you’re going to end up being a gloomy sourpuss like Robert Smith.
π) You can tell yourself I can do anything for 10 more minutes but then when you start, you realize that 10 more minutes on an elliptical is actually the equivalent of a Lord of the Rings marathon (Extended Editions) without a pee break. In a word, torture.
2) Greek yogurt with lime is actually like having key lime pie for breakfast. However adding graham cracker crumbs is probably counterproductive.
16) Grapefruit juice is really good for you. It has potassium and vitamin C and all kinds of other good stuff, while vodka is not. I asked my doctor and even though it’s made from potatoes it cannot be considered a vegetable.
If x+y = 8 and y = the age you first realized there was no Santa Claus, Virginia, then solve for x) I have decided not to weigh myself until the new year. I am measuring my progress by how I feel not by pounds or kilos. I just want to feel comfortable and have energy and be healthy.
3) Added bonus/motivating factor: the shower pressure at the YMCA is better than at my house. Glorious.
z²) Another thing I’ve learned: I am still not a lesbian, but thanks for asking, locker 114.
God, Helena, are you really that cute?
Yes, darlings. Yes, I am.
16) Pizza is a treat, not a major food group.
1975) Baby carrots are only good if they are fresh. Otherwise they taste like Ebola.
7) The reward for all this: I’m tired, sore, cranky and hungry and I can’t eat any of the things that I love. On the upside I am currently experiencing an endorphin high, which totally, almost, sort of (okay not really) makes it all worth it.