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Oh, Mashrou' Leila...this was the best dancer you could find for your new music video?
SAD FACE.
Thirty-two metronomes, set out of time, achieve synchronicity. There's a metaphor about the power of societal norms and the difficulty of individuality, here.
The lack of appetite continues. Something is most definitely going on in my guts because this is not normal. I ate hardly anything yesterday (about a cup of tuna salad, one can of sardines, and a handful of pistachios) and woke at 2:10am this morning so hungry I was nauseated. I stumbled downstairs, ate a few spoonfuls of mashed sweet potato, and went back to bed. When I woke, however, no appetite again. I didn't eat breakfast until 10:30 this morning and even then I had to force it because I knew if I didn't eat it would throw off my timing for my between-meals medication.
It's annoying as hell, yes, but I can't help being a little excited about the possibility that this means something new is happening in my guts. And at this point, just about any activity is good activity IMO.
Yesterday was my second session lifting at Robinson. There were a lot more people there than on Tuesday. Well, a lot more guys. Only one woman, and she was on the recumbent bike in the Nautilus machine room. I don't have the courage to lift as heavy at Robinson as I do when I'm with Andrew at the CrossFit box. I'm much more concerned about failure. Part of this is that Robinson doesn't have the handy stacked and padded boxes to receive a dropped barbell. If I fail, that thing is going straight to the floor. And that's not a little intimidating. But also, I'm unwilling to spectacularly fail in front of these strangers. It's fine to spectacularly fail at the box because even if I don't everybody there, there's still this mentality of "we're all in this together" and that feeling is most definitely not there at Robinson. I'm not sure what I need to do to get over this. Maybe it's just a matter of time.
The persimmon tree across the street from my campus building is finally dropping fruit. I'm harvesting about ten teeny little persimmons a day. Most of them go to appreciative graduate students, but at least four (two at breakfast, two at lunch) are mine, all mine. Delicious.
I am so glad it's Friday.
My life:
SAD FACE.
Thirty-two metronomes, set out of time, achieve synchronicity. There's a metaphor about the power of societal norms and the difficulty of individuality, here.
The lack of appetite continues. Something is most definitely going on in my guts because this is not normal. I ate hardly anything yesterday (about a cup of tuna salad, one can of sardines, and a handful of pistachios) and woke at 2:10am this morning so hungry I was nauseated. I stumbled downstairs, ate a few spoonfuls of mashed sweet potato, and went back to bed. When I woke, however, no appetite again. I didn't eat breakfast until 10:30 this morning and even then I had to force it because I knew if I didn't eat it would throw off my timing for my between-meals medication.
It's annoying as hell, yes, but I can't help being a little excited about the possibility that this means something new is happening in my guts. And at this point, just about any activity is good activity IMO.
Yesterday was my second session lifting at Robinson. There were a lot more people there than on Tuesday. Well, a lot more guys. Only one woman, and she was on the recumbent bike in the Nautilus machine room. I don't have the courage to lift as heavy at Robinson as I do when I'm with Andrew at the CrossFit box. I'm much more concerned about failure. Part of this is that Robinson doesn't have the handy stacked and padded boxes to receive a dropped barbell. If I fail, that thing is going straight to the floor. And that's not a little intimidating. But also, I'm unwilling to spectacularly fail in front of these strangers. It's fine to spectacularly fail at the box because even if I don't everybody there, there's still this mentality of "we're all in this together" and that feeling is most definitely not there at Robinson. I'm not sure what I need to do to get over this. Maybe it's just a matter of time.
The persimmon tree across the street from my campus building is finally dropping fruit. I'm harvesting about ten teeny little persimmons a day. Most of them go to appreciative graduate students, but at least four (two at breakfast, two at lunch) are mine, all mine. Delicious.
I am so glad it's Friday.
My life: