Life is best, at least for me, when nothing of any real interest is taking place. I realised yesterday that, given the choice, excitement can be someone else’s job. In the general scheme of things, glam and bling and beauty and celebration are better experienced on your own, very specific terms. Being in lockdown has granted insight into what really matters. The superficial is definitely NOT on my list of stuff missed.
With the train wreck news currently resembles, this is a weekend to do as little as possible. I’m not gonna lie, not getting up tomorrow at 6.30am will be very easy to achieve. Doing nothing will not be a stretch. My obligations for the day, once dispatched, will lead to a state of relief that’s not been felt or experienced for quite some time. This is a week, done well.
Yesterday was a triumph of form over function. Who thought that a prose piece would cause so much damage, and that defending other people would be used as a means to attack my position. It is indeed all fun and games until someone’s ego is damaged and then all you have is memories and a far larger block list. Welcome to October, where everything is in free-fall.
Except, as it transpires, this is perfectly fine. No .GIFs of cartoon dogs have been burnt in the making of this blog. I have a minute of video this morning utilising two webcams and Discord, which is fucking light years ahead of where I was two months ago. Knowing how to use it, of course, is a different matter entirely, and now the tech needs to percolate in my brain.
I might be able to manage a poem a week on YouTube, though…
These are all small steps. Seeing my own work up is a step in a decent direction. It all works well in my own mind’s eye. That’s what this is all about, when everything is said and done. It is a slow, measured progression of ideas that started on paper. Now I can plan, and consider new ways to evolve myself, in new forms and possibilities.
All of it, in the end, is only working towards a single goal: expression.
Day 4: Wow, that’s a two hours I never want to repeat again. I’m utterly with Duncan Jones: kids are hard work. I know, they didn’t ask to be born and you were the one who make the choice [and therefore accept the responsibility], but BOY some days is it tough. Anxiety-producing, pain inflicting, nerve shreddingly tough. If the sun was out and the country hadn’t just imploded, it would be easier. Today therefore is penance, and I’m surprisingly okay with that.
Max of 124W on that ride. Maximum effort since Christmas Day. I can undoubtedly feel strength growing in my legs. IT IS SO FUCKING HARD to get better.
There’s a significant fork in the road up ahead. Watching my husband cycle last night, his level of fitness is a reminder that if things matter enough, you will find a way. I don’t eat badly, exercise more than has ever been the case before and slowly, so very slowly, improvement is coming. It is on days like today when I’m mentally wiped that those gains matter so much more. Pushing beyond comfort zones might not be the answer for some, but for me there are days when if I don’t, the consequences can be catastrophic.
— Sarah Reeson 📖 Fiction, Non Fiction & Poetry (@InternetofWords) January 16, 2019
I should have started this particular journey with more vigour about 20 years ago.
Decided to enter a book contest with the manuscript that keeps getting rejected. It’s really good, deeply personal and largely autobiographical, and I know full well why nobody I’ve sent it to thus far has shown the slightest bit of interest. So, if it gets rejected AGAIN it doesn’t get rewritten a third time. It stays this way, and we look for specialist publishers to send it to, and if that fails I fucking publish it myself, because sometimes it isn’t about compromise. Sometimes, what matters most is the idea, as you wrote it, not how someone else wants you to tell the story.
Occasionally you don’t write in the hope someone else validates you. You need to validate yourself.
Those of you who can just be happy without having to work at it are the luckiest people on the Planet.
Just so you know.
— 🌊 Sarah, Decking the Halls FaLaLaLaLa LaLaLaLa🌊 (@AlternativeChat) November 30, 2017
This was always going to be a tough week, because of the amount of interaction that had to go on with people I don’t know. We’re almost done now, just one more thing to tick off around 3pm today and the exhale I will give is going to be considerable. Those people who sail through life with no perception of the difficulty curve really don’t know they’re born. Not having to think through EVERYTHING, simply turning up, doing their stuff and then pissing off. You are the real MVP’s. Without you, the Earth would grind to a massive, insufferable halt.
Yesterday we got snow for 90 seconds and the reminder that getting the Boiler fixed last month was the best idea I’ve ever had. Today we were intermittently veering between rain and bright sunshine and now the sky’s a winter blue which is strangely inspiring. I have a lot planned this month, and intend to try and do more spontaneity where brain and timescales allow. The general idea is to not stress too much and produce stuff I enjoy, not what I think other people will find interesting. That’s probably going to mean some navel contemplation as time goes on.
If I could have a month where the ground doesn’t open up at some point to swallow me, then we have seen a distinct improvement in mental circumstances. I managed to do one pull up at the Gym with some kind of discernable movement yesterday. I need to keep working on the arms, and the legs, and getting stamina as a priority. It is working, I’ve hit 12k for four days in a row this week. I’ll run tonight after working and being a grown up. This weekend there needs to be five minutes to make some new Playlists too.
The trick for December is to do stuff on my terms, and not let the enormity of everything overwhelm progress. That’s utterly doable, right?
Number of Pull Ups I can do (with resistance band) = Three Have you ever dead lifted in a Gym? YES Have you ever bench pressed in a Gym? YES Do you know how to run properly? NO
That was my PT day, in a nutshell. It transpires that my gait is all wrong, I’m completely inefficient when running, and the treadmill actually scares me when I let rip. So, it doesn’t matter how good I am at lifting shit, I can’t run. My trainer was very nice about it, but I think its funny. What kind of fucking mess are you woman that you can’t put one foot in front of the other and escape from predators?
What, you going to briskly stroll away from your assailant?
I know, I’m sorry. For every moment you think you’re doing it right? There’s always room for improvement. I’ll be over here, walking around the house bouncing on alternate legs like an idiot. You know, LEARNING HOW TO RUN ^^