Woke up to my bones cracking again. The joints pop and snap in my shoulders and wrists. The muscles stretched thin and tired. I wonder how much longer they will last. No young person ever contemplates the deterioration of their body. But every morning I wake up with a slight, low-grade fear that my body will never be better than it is today. The running makes me feel better. I will experiment with “body-pump” this term, whatever the hell that is, but really this body will never be what it was when I took it for granted.
The last day before the term starts up again is always a lethargic one. The guilt of all that you didn’t do weighs down on you, but it quickly becomes clear that there is no way you are going to do any of it. The 50,000 word goal of the novel will have to wait till you are back in the swing of things this week; the two-and-a-half classes still left to mark will be jammed in tomorrow during your one prep and maybe a few tomorrow night. This is Sunday the last day of a three week holiday, there is no way to do anything productive. It’s time for laziness and sloth. Time for staying in your pajamas and crawling from couch to couch. Time for naps and lunch and nap again.
Before a quick exertion to Bergs for lunch and a beer, I played some guitar while Skylar was “writing a play” and Kaia drew some pictures. It was cloudy and quiet as I turned to nail down Landslide. Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love? Can the child within my heart rise above? It felt like a moment. Maybe a memory was being built- The kids might tell their children or spouses things like, “ We used to spend Sundays in the house while my dad played guitar and sang while we wrote and drew and created things out of nothing.” Just like I say about my father and our Sundays and past afternoons.
After lunch, another nap and I was glued to the #oregonunderattack hashtag. I couldn’t look away. Poor America. More and more often it feels like a country in some movie about a delusional futuristic place, where the people are dazed and confused and duped and lost and yearning for answers. I don’t have any. Our politics have been reduced to hashtags: #factsarentracists #blacklivesmatter It is a new year and already it feels like we are going backwards. I spent last night listening to To Pimp a Butterfly and it feels like so many conversations that could be happening are happening. Just hashtags in vacuums and carousels forever spinning. But I wasn’t down. Did you hear that Iran is threatening Saudi Arabia for an execution? The blind leading the blind and the spinning and the spinning.
So is he really doing this?
Well this is the third “extended post” in three days.
Yeah but he can’t be presumptuous enough to assume we all give a shit about his each and every thought. I mean look at this last post- he’s basically just talking about how bored and lazy he was all day. Who wants to read that?
I think he might be planning to write one of these posts everyday?
What? That’s crazy. For how long? Shouldn’t he be spending his time working on that damn book he has been talking about all year. Or doing school work?
I hope he is planning on one a day for the whole year. Can you imagine?
I’ll just have to hide his posts, or worst comes to worst unfriend him. I can’t handle a daily extended post everyday for the entire year.
He won’t make it through January.
Is he gonna have those daily lessons in each post?
Lessons Learned:
The last day before the term starts up again is always a lethargic one. The guilt of all that you didn’t do weighs down on you, but it quickly becomes clear that there is no way you are going to do any of it. The 50,000 word goal of the novel will have to wait till you are back in the swing of things this week; the two-and-a-half classes still left to mark will be jammed in tomorrow during your one prep and maybe a few tomorrow night. This is Sunday the last day of a three week holiday, there is no way to do anything productive. It’s time for laziness and sloth. Time for staying in your pajamas and crawling from couch to couch. Time for naps and lunch and nap again.
Before a quick exertion to Bergs for lunch and a beer, I played some guitar while Skylar was “writing a play” and Kaia drew some pictures. It was cloudy and quiet as I turned to nail down Landslide. Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love? Can the child within my heart rise above? It felt like a moment. Maybe a memory was being built- The kids might tell their children or spouses things like, “ We used to spend Sundays in the house while my dad played guitar and sang while we wrote and drew and created things out of nothing.” Just like I say about my father and our Sundays and past afternoons.
After lunch, another nap and I was glued to the #oregonunderattack hashtag. I couldn’t look away. Poor America. More and more often it feels like a country in some movie about a delusional futuristic place, where the people are dazed and confused and duped and lost and yearning for answers. I don’t have any. Our politics have been reduced to hashtags: #factsarentracists #blacklivesmatter It is a new year and already it feels like we are going backwards. I spent last night listening to To Pimp a Butterfly and it feels like so many conversations that could be happening are happening. Just hashtags in vacuums and carousels forever spinning. But I wasn’t down. Did you hear that Iran is threatening Saudi Arabia for an execution? The blind leading the blind and the spinning and the spinning.
So is he really doing this?
Well this is the third “extended post” in three days.
Yeah but he can’t be presumptuous enough to assume we all give a shit about his each and every thought. I mean look at this last post- he’s basically just talking about how bored and lazy he was all day. Who wants to read that?
I think he might be planning to write one of these posts everyday?
What? That’s crazy. For how long? Shouldn’t he be spending his time working on that damn book he has been talking about all year. Or doing school work?
I hope he is planning on one a day for the whole year. Can you imagine?
I’ll just have to hide his posts, or worst comes to worst unfriend him. I can’t handle a daily extended post everyday for the entire year.
He won’t make it through January.
Is he gonna have those daily lessons in each post?
Lessons Learned:
- Happiness is really boring.
- We are wound so tightly that when we do nothing we feel guilty about it.
- Our obsession with “Productivity” is moving us away from our need to simply be.
- It’s a good idea to put the Internet down when it is making you feel bad.
- Writing everyday, even if it feels pointless, is good exercise for different parts of you body, mind and soul.
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