pushups

My latest obsession is that of trying to do a push-up. I've always had incredibly weak arms, but due to my love of yoga they are getting steadily stronger. For the first time in my entire life, I actually did a push-up. I thought I had been doing them for years, but a few months ago my boyfriend let me know that no, you're doing it wrong. Great.

But enlightened by this newfound wisdom regarding push-up form, I'm actually really enjoying it. Sure, I can't do more than one at a time, but I find it to be the strangest sensation when I'm lowered down, hovering dangerously close to the floor. The power to continue doesn't feel like it's coming from tensile muscles - but more an inner thrust of passion. It's hard for me to put into words - but I feel as though it's genuinely mind over matter, rather than braun. I feel like I magically levitate by thought alone.

Now I just need to sort out how to apply this to finding an agent.

Now click here and support me, would ya?

Spooks

Right, so...everything's been going all right in my life until last night.

I had fed the cat before I went to bed to ensure I wouldn't be woken up by the usual middle-of-the-night meowing. But at around 3 am, my bed began moving around in a strange fashion. I turn around to see what's going on. Matt was sleeping over, but he was fast asleep as usual. I presumed it was the cat rustling around, but he wasn't there either.

So I lay back down, too tired to really care much. But there it came again - that weird bed shaking. This time I sit up quite thoroughly, in order to get a really good view of the situation.

No cat. Matt's still fast asleep.

Well, now I gotta pee. So I get up, pee, and then return. Normally the cat will follow me into the bathroom, hoping I'll follow him to his food dish - but he never appears. When Matt stays over, it takes the cat a little longer to harrass me since he is skiddish of strangers (even ones that have been over on a regular basis for two years).

Anyway, I lay back down for the third time. After a little while, Matt starts moving around - I figure I had woken him up. He looks me in the eye and asks me if I'm okay. I find that really odd - how does he know that I'm freaked out right now? I explain to him what happened.

We're talking at the breakfast table about the fact that he was so intuitive to know I was worried. He says he knew something was up, because I was vigorously rolling around, and then poked him in his sleep.

As far as I know, I was wide awake, so who was poking him? That was when I started to get a little scared. And then a lot scared.

I'm easily spooked. I'll be sleeping with the lights on for at least the next week.

Bigger is Better, at Times.

I've hooked my laptop up to my television screen, hoping it will spur me to action. Having my work displayed in giant letters might make it more difficult for me to get distracted, and using only a keyboard will make it less difficult to Alt-Tab over to a new window and continue some dumb game on shockwave.

But really, who am I kidding? My brain will surely take this as a challenge - to see how easily I can multitask using this new setup.

No...mustn't give in...must focus on the words...

Truly though, I am getting mighty sick of facebook and all of my other internet diversions (I almost just typed "aversions").

What's in a Twist?

I love me some Yoga, of course. And in yoga you have your heart openers, your backbends, your forward folds, and your whatnots of other varieties.



Now say with your forward folds, it's likened to a surrender - it's mostly just bending forward as you would when you touch your toes. So it's an easy comparison; when the body lies limp, you are no longer reaching, you are giving into gravity, releasing your thoughts, etcetera. When I return to "regular" life, I can retain that sense of heaviness - I can say to myself, "let's just let this go, let's let this tension drop."



But what about twists? Twists are supposed to squeeze your body of toxins. Now, say I have a toxic influence in my life, such as - oh, an obnoxious person who behaves in an utterly rude manner. How do I reproduce that wrenching sensation of ridding myself of poison?



In the above mentioned scenario, letting go actually worked. After a few moments passed, I stopped caring. But where does the twist come in? How do I apply that to my daily life?



I hope I'm explaining myself properly. I just want to know how to wring my life of the negativity that has settled in without my welcome.

A Cigarette, Please?

I've been an "ex-smoker" for about five years I think now. The best part of that sentence is the phrase "I think", because when you are still a struggling addict, you'll know down to the minute the last time you smoked.

(Note: Just for truth's sake, I have had a cigarette here and there, and have had one a bit more recently than I'll likely admit - but you aren't asking, so I ain't telling.)

However, it isn't unlikely that when daydreaming about a theoretical conversation I'll picture myself with a ciggie in my mouth. Why is that? Smoking is not a part of my life in any way, so why would it creep into my thoughts so often?

So I find it so strange to me how it still permeates my brain. I guess it's sort of like how an alcoholic is always an alcoholic - you might preface their title with Recovering, but essentially once you're an alcoholic you always are.

Well I guess I'll always be a smoker.

When I quit, the hardest part was separating cigarettes from my identity. I thought smokes were a solid, unnegotiable aspect of my persona - which made it difficult to give up. But they are not; I am a fully functional and whole person without them.

...except in my head. But of course we do some other terrible, unspeakable things in there as well. The cigarettes aren't the worst of it.

P.S. I'm still also compulsively watching Snack Attack at least one a day, sometimes more. And every time I laugh out loud. That sketch is pure genius.

Time for Your Examination

I've started posting on examiner.com. I am, quite officially, the "Hartford Vegetarian Examiner". I am still murky-headed with a cold, and therefore cannot think - let alone write - properly, but I wanted to advise you of this latest venture of sorts.

Examiner Articles.

Now, if you love meat and find vegetarianism offensive, I won't be upset if you don't click.

However, you would if you really loved me. Waah.

The Steadfast Circle of Addiction

I’ve barely the motivation to sit up straight, let alone write, today. One of those weird sore throats began last night – you know the kind: that comes out of nowhere, without any accompanying symptoms. And then later, the symptoms do arrive, but yet you’re not really sick. Or are you? Who knows. It will remain a mystery until the whole ordeal is complete and you can review it in retrospect.

But back to the problem of this laziness. It lends itself to long, hedonistic breaks, and I inevitably fall victim to my addictions. At all times, my brain insists on obsessively watching/listening/reading something. Additionally, the obsession is something I’m frightfully embarrassed by in the end. So perhaps it is of shame that I am addicted. Regardless, as of late I’ve been watching Jake and Amir nonstop. To what I can attribute my obsession, I’ve no idea.

This happens to be where I’m currently compelled.

Why do I love this particular video so much? Is it the weird but believable lines delivered by Pat Cassels, the charismatic quality of Jake Hurwitz, or the ironic, quirky caricature that *is* Amir Blumenfeld? Maybe it’s the brief cameo by Sarah Schneider. Perhaps it’s simply my love of cookies that brings me back. We may never know.

Either way, it’s really messing with my productivity.