I did the darn rollerblade-across-the-backyard thing again today. That's two days in a row. And because it's the backyard, I don't have the fear of being seen and mocked, because it HAS to look ridiculous, me, an awkward, fat, middle-aged dork, trying to do a young person's thing, in a vain attempt to expand the shockingly-narrow parameters of his life.
I thought that doing this over and over again in March would help get me over my fear--practically terror, at this point--of falling down on the pavement, but I'd bet any amount of money that it's done no good, and perhaps the opposite. There was one time, last week or the week before, when I slid forward on the grass, and my body did lose its balance and try to topple me, but I caught myself and kept going.
Sit-ups Today: 100
Sit-ups In March: 2879
I checked out an old Clint Eastwood movie from the library two weeks ago, and it was a hundred and fifty-five minutes (which is LOOOOONG). I kept putting it on while I was working, despite hating it, and inching toward the ending, but never quite getting there (there was something Sisyphean about the task, as if the movie got longer every time I started it up again), and I called Big Anklevich when I found out how much more was left (at this point, only twenty minutes or so), and he said, "If you hate it so much, why don't you just stop watching it?" I guess I had it in my head that it was a point of pride to get through to the end, despite loathing the movie and everything about it (well, almost everything--the stuntwork was good), but once Big gave me what I considered to be permission to turn it off, I took out the DVD and just let that darn rock roll to the bottom of the hill on its own.
I think the rollerblading may be the same thing. Sure, I bought the skates, and sure, I bought the knee and wrist and elbow pads. But that doesn't mean I HAVE to keep doing it. If it scares me and I'm not any good at it, maybe I just have to accept that it's not for me and move on, despite the loftiness of my original goals. It's like that time in L.A. when the Sony lawyer told me I'd never work in town again, and I resorted to pleasuring truckers at the gas station right off the 405 for rent money. One of those dudes said, "If you do enough of it, you'll start to enjoy the taste of strange truck driver."
Rollerblading In March: 8 (of 10)
Push-ups Today: 50
Push-ups In March: 2768
I hit the library, right before it closed, and--even though you've heard me say this twenty times now--I started getting into my story just as they made the announcement that everyone had to leave. But take heart, noble traveler, starting Monday, they'll be open until nine pm again, just like they were before the pandemic. Not on Saturdays, though . . . because they dislike me.
I wish I could say that every time I go to the library and sit down to write, I get in a zone and start creating and the tapestry of the story reveals itself to me, but it doesn't. There are times when I'd rather do anything but write, and even worse, there are days like today, when in the morning and afternoon, I thought about the story I'm currently writing, decided where I wanted it to go, and then did other things (not just work things, I'm talking about watching YouTube videos for two whole hours or driving to the mall and considering going in to kill half an hour despite having my laptop with me and the library closing in ninety minutes). I could've been focused and got the work done--put that stuff that was in my head down on "paper"--but instead, I dorked around until it was almost too late.
And then I resent them when they kick people out.
Words Today: 1304
Words In March: 23,669
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