I’m going to see Fleabag in the theatre tonight. If you haven’t heard of it, Fleabag was a short series on Amazon Prime. It’s only two seasons long, but it won the 2019 Emmy for Best Comedy Series, despite its short duration. It’s hilarious and Phoebe Waller-Bridge is amazing. Now they have a feature film, but it only plays for one night, at least in this area anyway. Several friends are seeing it as well, but we are all going to different theatres, closer to our respective homes.
I found out this past weekend I’m a negative splitter in yoga, just like I am in running. (Even though I’ve tried to switch that up when I run to challenge myself). I doubled-up on classes and found the second hour a lot more productive than the first hour. I’m a lot stronger and quicker and have more endurance. There are two ways of looking at this. The first is it takes me an hour to warm-up, which is a really inefficient time-suck. Another way of looking at it is this could also be evidence that I’m a stayer, not a sprinter. Either way, I feel like a thoroughbred who has morphed into a warmblood.
These days I need to do twice the sprints and eat a fraction of the calories in order to keep up with the rest of the field.
That said, who came up with the statistic that 30 minutes of moderate exercise a day is enough for optimal health? How did we go from being hunter-gatherers for a large part of our day to moving around for thirty minutes and calling it a success? We’ve whittled it down to the bare minimum, according to what expert/experts, and for what good? I’m beginning to wonder if we’ve created a world defined by pages and pages of Excel sheets. The squares of information are purported to be the truth, and if you don’t fit in one on the graph, then you must doing it wrong, or are wrong. That’s a long-winded way of saying moving around for thirty minutes is a bullshit solution to good health.
That means sitting around on your ass for 23.5 hours a day is totally fine, too.
I write notes down everywhere when a thought or idea pops in my head. I’ve finally learned to embrace the “notes” app on my phone, where I can quickly jot something down on the go. Below is a compilation of notes written in 2019. They are random, at times senseless, somewhat funny, and mostly true. It starts with the day after Russ and I got married, so on January 19th. I thought I’d clear them out to make room for the new, starting with the upcoming holidays. Here are a few:
- My husband is singing “If you liked it then you should have put a ring on it…,” buck-naked, staring into the open fridge door. The day after our marriage. #priceless
- Russ uses pepper the way I use ketchup to flavor food. #notsimpatico
- I tried to give a La Madeleine box of food to two homeless women after work today. Both refused. I thought the first girl was going to scratch my eyes out. She looked at me with such hate before acknowledging my question with a slow shake of her head. #youcanhavenothingandstillwantnothing
- When did contemplation become thinking about yourself, and to reflect is to gaze in the mirror? (From Manifesto, Rosefeldt). #word
- I walked past a women today who suddenly stopped while looking down at her phone. She put her hand over her mouth and burst into tears on the sidewalk. What was the message? Was today the day she got the worst news of her life? #heartbreaking
- Sometimes I think I was better off when I didn’t know anything. Ignorance is bliss. Bliss is happiness. Now I know better, which is ironic, because it’s not better. #incongruous
- My orchid is dead. Has been for a while. If that isn’t some kind of metaphor, I don’t know what is. #deadplantwalking
- Effort does not guarantee outcome. #itsnotameritocracy
- Why is it when I lie down, my belt is two holes too loose? When I stand up, it’s instantly snug. This is tangible proof there is always more than one way to look at things. #justchangeyourperspectiveoryourposition
- Anyone can build a story to suit their narrative, depending on the tale they tell themselves. #weallweaveaweb
- There’s a fine line between acceptance and complacency. #idontlikeeither
- What’s with all the selfies? The better question is, what is with all the selfies in cars and bathrooms?? There’s a whole world out there, yet people choose the two tightest spaces in existence?? #photoinatunacan
- After being tethered to something for so long, I find myself unmoored. I’m not attached to anything and trying everything. #freedomgivesyouwings
- I’m at the stage now where I want to save all of my father’s emails and voicemails. They’re just two sentences these days, but I don’t want to delete a single one. #timemovestoofast
- A river cuts through rock, not because of its power, but because of its persistence. #slowandsteadywins
- Writing is like pissing in the wind. One day I’ll look back and hate what I’ve written. As it is now, I only find some of it barely good enough to put my name on it. #someofitreallysucks
- Familiarity breeds contempt. #truedat
- Blah blah blah, my family is perfect, blah blah blah, we have so many traditions, blah blah blah, we love each other, spend all of our time together, we’re best friends, blah blah blah. I live in the best town, blah blah blah, I’m the best citizen, blah blah blah. #pleaseshutupnow
- Twitter Affairs: When two people champion each other’s posts endlessly and superfluously. Get a room already. You really need to fuck each other’s brains out and just get it over with so we can all move on. #twitterflirtingistheworst
- The day your fat pants become your skinny jeans. Not. Good. #crying
- What I can’t understand about middle age is the fact that my zits and grey hair appear at the same rate. Nothing like sharing a bathroom with your sixteen year old nephew and finding that you use the same zit cream. #bullshit
- I pick at my cuticles constantly. Sometimes my lips. Anxiety is always on the lookout. #thebastardexists
- One day you wake up wearing a sausage casing from your boobs to your knees. How does that even happen? #gravityisnotnice