Monday, July 15, 2013

Going To The Poo

I lost the cap on my L key, so it's difficult to type any words containing the letter L. I lost the N cap, too, but, since I use my index finger for that one, I've gotten used to pressing it harder. The missing L in the title sort of fit and made me laugh when I read it, so I didn't go back and press really hard on the spot where the L used to be on my keyboard.

In case my ramblings aren't completely clear, I'm not happy about having to resort to swimming for a workout. Actually, struggling to not drown for 20 minutes isn't really a workout, but that's about all I can handle in the pool. God. I swim for 10 minutes, and it feels like I've run a marathon. Obviously I'm getting out of shape, but I'm hoping my injuries are healing. Shit. I can't believe how very fucked up my body has been. I'm still shocked that I was running and even racing last year. I guess you sort of get used to limitations until either they improve or get worse and require attention. Now I have this weird thing where I can't even run. It's not just the pain, it's like my body is locked up and won't move. It sucks.

I got the OK to jog 20 minutes, but it didn't go very well. I'm a bit worried.

Uggh, the pool. Because I'm spending so much time and effort trying to avoid drowning, I can't really get my heart rate up, unless it goes up out of sheer terror, which might be the case with me. I bought goggles after one session without them, and that helped, only after about 10 minutes, I was thinking, "Damn, I have a headache." It turns out that I had the straps adjusted too tightly, so I pulled off the darned things -- which resulted in an audible sucking sound with a pop at the end -- and attempted to readjust them while treading water. Shit. And ouch! I bruised the area around my eyes. Not only were my eyeballs bloodshot, but I looked like a raccoon. Then my foot cramped up, and one of my toes went into spasm. Oh joy. To top off my pool experience, two young girls mocked me in the locker room for having colorful kinesio tape on my hamstrings. WTF? Like I didn't get enough teasing when I was a kid; I now have to endure it as an adult? Fuck that. I really wanted to say something nasty, but I held my tongue. A friend and I came up with all kinds of awful comebacks that I would never really say but made me laugh after the incident. It's scary the kind of power I know certain insults can have. I'm glad I kept my mouth shut.

Maybe with more swimming, my toothpick-sized arms will look a little less scrawny. They were sore after two laps. Wonderful. I have come very, very close to giving up exercise entirely.

Last night I was watching a really strange show that a friend suggested called Naked and Afraid. The idea is that two people are dropped off in remote areas and have to survive naked together for an extended period. I think it's something like 21 days. Oh, I'd die in the first day; I'm sure. If I didn't go in some freak accident like a coconut bonking me on the head in just the right place, I'm sure some disgusting monstrous insect would eat me before the camera crew could stop the disaster. Either that or the guy who ended up as my partner would kill me for whining about everything.

One of the episodes featured a guy with an infected foot. The producers had to step in and get him medical attention. When they showed him getting it treated, I had flashbacks of being in the hospital. Now, I know he was out in the wild, not in the hospital, but the way he was screaming and yelling when the medic drained the swollen body part made me feel a little less wimpy for shedding the tears I did in the same procedure. That shit HURTS!

My hormones are still completely out of whack. Nothing new there.

I had a spell of writer's block but grabbed a Stephen King book to read for inspiration. I'm very slowly struggling my way through the blockage. Some days, getting a few sentences out is like conquering Everest. My short stories are getting VERY mixed reviews, and I'm having to learn to deal with criticism, a lot of criticism. I get frustrated comparing myself to other writers and my editor, who happens to be a fucking genius, but I'm still working on improving.

I was about to jump into a heated facebook discussion about the outcome of the Zimmerman case, but I realized that the guy I was about to address was probably not going to listen to anyone who disagreed with him. When he cited two "news" sources -- one that's not much more accurate than the Enquirer and the other that has been criticized for copyright infringement and other indiscretions,  -- I decided to sit back and watch the mayhem unfold. It was quite upsetting.

Oh, this is kind of cool. Sue Ann Gleason (Chocolate for Breakfast) posted this earlier:

Famous Authors who didn't graduate in writing-related fields.

Back to messing around with words. 

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