Movement in the Lighter Extremities
2/23/2010 12:50 PM – 1:10 PM
So it is later than normal to be writing the instants. I neglected to go to bed as there were pressing matters on the internets to attend to. That would be a joke. There are few pressing matters on the internets. I then neglected to get up on time even with my alarm reset to give me 8 hours of sleep. And then, this morning, there were more pressing matters on the internets.
Someday, when I finally come to be the type of person that gives up things for Lent, wasting time on the internets should be in the list. Ben said that he’s planning on quitting smoking in the next week or so. I’d guess that I should as well. Amy will be gone that weekend and two angry boys hanging about the house might be more than even a Mennonite could handle. And they have a fetish for torture. I lifted weights today. This is the start of week three of strength training. If I had picked up running, it should have started yesterday, so I guess that I’m waiting till March. Perhaps to coincide with the quitting of the smoking. It’s my Monday, and despite the fact that I did very little useful today, aside from lifting, sitting and starting my laundry, I feel good. Probably the poppy seed tea. But I did call my mom yesterday and we talked for an hour and a bit.
I admire people that can charge into life and do it. My brother has three kids and is looking to adopt another few. He has a career in the military and a dream of what he wants to do when he gets out. I sit here and look at statistics. The probability of a marriage surviving until the death of one spouse is one out of two. That’s probably the wrong way to word it, technically. The probability of someone making a living as a writer of books is worse than that. I do not understand. I understand so very little and even less of what I really want to understand. I want to have faith. Faith is generally acknowledged as a key component of a healthy outlook on life. I want to believe. I want to believe but I don’t want to be an asshole to others or dishonest with myself. I don’t see much wrong with being an asshole to myself and dishonest with others. That would be a joke. Mostly. It’s definitely gray outside. The trees are fairly still. Some movement in the lighter extremities. No animals that I can see. But I feel fine. A shower, a change of clothes and then off to work. Tomorrow, I’ll work more on the novel. I’ll go to be on time tonight. Someday this will make sense. There, a crow flew by.
So it is later than normal to be writing the instants. I neglected to go to bed as there were pressing matters on the internets to attend to. That would be a joke. There are few pressing matters on the internets. I then neglected to get up on time even with my alarm reset to give me 8 hours of sleep. And then, this morning, there were more pressing matters on the internets.
Someday, when I finally come to be the type of person that gives up things for Lent, wasting time on the internets should be in the list. Ben said that he’s planning on quitting smoking in the next week or so. I’d guess that I should as well. Amy will be gone that weekend and two angry boys hanging about the house might be more than even a Mennonite could handle. And they have a fetish for torture. I lifted weights today. This is the start of week three of strength training. If I had picked up running, it should have started yesterday, so I guess that I’m waiting till March. Perhaps to coincide with the quitting of the smoking. It’s my Monday, and despite the fact that I did very little useful today, aside from lifting, sitting and starting my laundry, I feel good. Probably the poppy seed tea. But I did call my mom yesterday and we talked for an hour and a bit.
I admire people that can charge into life and do it. My brother has three kids and is looking to adopt another few. He has a career in the military and a dream of what he wants to do when he gets out. I sit here and look at statistics. The probability of a marriage surviving until the death of one spouse is one out of two. That’s probably the wrong way to word it, technically. The probability of someone making a living as a writer of books is worse than that. I do not understand. I understand so very little and even less of what I really want to understand. I want to have faith. Faith is generally acknowledged as a key component of a healthy outlook on life. I want to believe. I want to believe but I don’t want to be an asshole to others or dishonest with myself. I don’t see much wrong with being an asshole to myself and dishonest with others. That would be a joke. Mostly. It’s definitely gray outside. The trees are fairly still. Some movement in the lighter extremities. No animals that I can see. But I feel fine. A shower, a change of clothes and then off to work. Tomorrow, I’ll work more on the novel. I’ll go to be on time tonight. Someday this will make sense. There, a crow flew by.
posted by Spike at 10:11 AM
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