It turns out that this blogging every single day thing is a lot harder than I thought it would be, not because I can't think of anything to write about or because I don't want to write but because I'm so bad with time. When I originally came up with the idea, I guess I had nothing to do; at least for now, though, things have unexpectedly changed. There's now BTJ who came over again last night and was over till 2 plus I'm doing the Runner's World Run Streak which entails running every day between Memorial Day and July 4, something that might not seem like it would take up that much time but between changing into running clothes, possibly driving to the gym depending on heat and humidity and rain, running, driving home if I've driven to the gym, taking a shower, and getting dressed, it takes a lot longer than the twenty to thirty minutes a day it would seem. I'm not saying I'm not going to post and publish every day, present blog excluded, until June 22 like I planned because I still intend to; I am saying something, though, and it's this:
On Saturday night I was talking to a guy (Bumble Gym Guy who scared me out of not going to the gym lest I run into him? Who for about two weeks I was snapping a ton with?) at Starbucks where, ironically, I'd gone to blog distraction free. The night before, I'd told him I couldn't talk to him because I had to write my nightly blog, and then while we were having coffee--well, he was having tea. Tea!--I mentioned how I never have time to do anything between writing and the run streak.
Why are you doing these things? he asked.
I didn't understand the question. I'd told him several times I committed to writing in my blog every single day for a month, and, well, Runner's World Run Streak...is the reason not implicit, maybe even explicit, in the name?
Because I have to, I answered. I made a declaration that I'd write every day for a month, and the run streak is every day from Memorial Day to the 4th of July. I don't have a choice.
We then went back and forth in conversation a little bit about why I do these things that I do. I don't remember it verbatim, but I do remember being annoyed. In the end, he asked, But why? Why don't you just do things when you want to? and then proceeded to say something maybe about pressure/stress and about it not seeming like I was having much fun. (He also said when he goes to the gym he does the elliptical and the stair machine and doesn't understand why I love to run, so appeal to ethos? Not so fucking much.)
I was aghast. I didn't understand how someone could not understand that, one, when you make a declaration to do something, you fucking do it, and that, two, this regimented pressure and stress--have to write, have to run, no matter what's going on, I've got to get these things done--was fun, that setting goals and meeting them was the funnest, most fulfilling thing in the world--well, almost--and that his lackadaisical attitude made me cringe.
Which brings me to last night.
I totally planned to write and post my blog. Griffin popped up at my house right around nine, and not long after, BTJ text me that he'd just finished work and was hanging out at Starbucks, and right around ten, he came over unplanned. When he left at two, I walked my dogs and then immediately sat down at the table, opened up my laptop, and started to write this post. I still had to brush my teeth and wash my face, and it was about 2:20. I wake up at 5:42.
I wrote one paragraph and started in on number two. I deleted, copied, pasted, wrote, rewrote, went through the whole rigamarole I go through every time I write. I have to post a blog! I thought as I typed, typed, typed and revised. At about 2:30, going against everything I believe in, I decided not to finish. I thought to myself, I'll do it in the morning during exams. Feeling like a failure, I closed my laptop and went upstairs.
All right. Bumble Gym Guy was not right. I'd say he was actually a complete ass except that he really was extremely nice.
Butttt
as much as I think the rules and requirements I place upon myself make me thrive and the thought of living all willy nilly is a fright (Capricorn much? I know), I suppose I do have to admit I'm a little on the rigid side, and it maybe wouldn't hurt me to relax. I'm the one who makes my rules, after all, and while I'll never be one of those stupid rules-are-made-to-be-broken people, I suppose it won't kill me to bend the occasional one.
On Saturday night I was talking to a guy (Bumble Gym Guy who scared me out of not going to the gym lest I run into him? Who for about two weeks I was snapping a ton with?) at Starbucks where, ironically, I'd gone to blog distraction free. The night before, I'd told him I couldn't talk to him because I had to write my nightly blog, and then while we were having coffee--well, he was having tea. Tea!--I mentioned how I never have time to do anything between writing and the run streak.
Why are you doing these things? he asked.
I didn't understand the question. I'd told him several times I committed to writing in my blog every single day for a month, and, well, Runner's World Run Streak...is the reason not implicit, maybe even explicit, in the name?
Because I have to, I answered. I made a declaration that I'd write every day for a month, and the run streak is every day from Memorial Day to the 4th of July. I don't have a choice.
We then went back and forth in conversation a little bit about why I do these things that I do. I don't remember it verbatim, but I do remember being annoyed. In the end, he asked, But why? Why don't you just do things when you want to? and then proceeded to say something maybe about pressure/stress and about it not seeming like I was having much fun. (He also said when he goes to the gym he does the elliptical and the stair machine and doesn't understand why I love to run, so appeal to ethos? Not so fucking much.)
I was aghast. I didn't understand how someone could not understand that, one, when you make a declaration to do something, you fucking do it, and that, two, this regimented pressure and stress--have to write, have to run, no matter what's going on, I've got to get these things done--was fun, that setting goals and meeting them was the funnest, most fulfilling thing in the world--well, almost--and that his lackadaisical attitude made me cringe.
Which brings me to last night.
I totally planned to write and post my blog. Griffin popped up at my house right around nine, and not long after, BTJ text me that he'd just finished work and was hanging out at Starbucks, and right around ten, he came over unplanned. When he left at two, I walked my dogs and then immediately sat down at the table, opened up my laptop, and started to write this post. I still had to brush my teeth and wash my face, and it was about 2:20. I wake up at 5:42.
I wrote one paragraph and started in on number two. I deleted, copied, pasted, wrote, rewrote, went through the whole rigamarole I go through every time I write. I have to post a blog! I thought as I typed, typed, typed and revised. At about 2:30, going against everything I believe in, I decided not to finish. I thought to myself, I'll do it in the morning during exams. Feeling like a failure, I closed my laptop and went upstairs.
All right. Bumble Gym Guy was not right. I'd say he was actually a complete ass except that he really was extremely nice.
Butttt
as much as I think the rules and requirements I place upon myself make me thrive and the thought of living all willy nilly is a fright (Capricorn much? I know), I suppose I do have to admit I'm a little on the rigid side, and it maybe wouldn't hurt me to relax. I'm the one who makes my rules, after all, and while I'll never be one of those stupid rules-are-made-to-be-broken people, I suppose it won't kill me to bend the occasional one.
No comments:
Post a Comment