Over the months (like tonight) I've been trying to write up part of one of my Asia travels. Sort of like the trip, it keeps going nowhere. The problem is I want it to be interesting. It really wasn't very.
Well, it's exercise.
On Mondays we do chest, on Tuesdays shoulders, on Wednesdays biceps. Somehow I slacked off today (back and legs), probably because I forgot that tomorrow (triceps) I have a doctor's appointment. I know I can't expect myself to do much more than push-ups over the weekend.
Well, it's exercise.
Sometimes my lips pucker up and just need to play a trumpet. Especially when my kid is practicing. I'll grab my old horn and tootle a little bit, do some scales and some song I heard once, until the sticky second valve pisses me off and I quit. I don't play often enough to get any better.
Well, it's exercise.
At night we have the stupidest arguments. Matters so technical our sons roll their eyes that anyone would care. But we have different instincts in how we approach factual matters, and neither of us is the passive sort, and we have energy built up over countless minuscule issues that like individual raindrops fill a raging sea, and besides we're too tired to know better. And then, a deep breath later, or a night's sleep, or something in-between, and we're back to loving normality.
Well, it's exercise.
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4 comments:
I hate that--writing something that just doesn't work, always because there's not enough truth in it, or something. Or you're trying too hard to write about something that just doesn't deserve it.
The latter, I think. My conceit is that a "good" writer can make ANYTHING interesting. But trying to turn a business trip into a story that has some sort of story-like point to it may be sort of like spending all your gym time on wrist curls.
OK, you guys know I'm not a writer, but I am a reader!
I read this post, then clicked on the "post comment", but had to leave for a bit. I wasn't stalking, I promise.
While I was away from my laptop, I thought about your post. I feel that this is probably one of your most creative and heart-felt posts that you've written in a while.
There's something about not having a lot of time... I had an art teacher once who timed me while I was doing drawings. I hated it because it made me a nervous wreck, but it was good for me. I get too caught up in the details.
I think your lack of time for writing is spurring your creativity. Along with other issues. We all have them. Trust me (loneliness, gray cubicles, bills, frazzled nerves, travel, Christmas trees to be disposed of, etc.)!
I'm sorry that you're facing that gray cubicle every day, and the family issues. I hope that they smooth over soon, but you shouldn't stop writing. It's too important!
Alrighty then, I'll shut up now.
Dude, you need a pull-up bar in your house. Pushups alone are not enough. You must work the antagonistic muscles.
Are you really going to the weight room everyday? There must be story in there somewhere, at least about the ungodly boredom you must be experiencing.
Or, tell the story of one pushup. Just the one. It's exercise, no?
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