It is also not a good post. It is, in fact a terrible post, and I clearly learned nothing from last years Nano. Maybe I should have done the novel writing. I still can! I can do whatever I want, it turns out. What I want to do most these days is get mad at my newsfeed.
I rage write in my head all the time. Like cartoon-grade ‘roid rage, which translates into some pretty terrible writing.
I saw this yesterday:
I can’t stand it when people are mean to little kids. I don’t know that I would ever think it was funny, but I can tell you that the rage it inspired was a little over the top.
I could feel the cold aluminum of the bat in my hands as I stepped toward the wearer of the pumpkin mask. The plastic on the grip warmed to body temperature as I tightened my grip.
An underhand swing makes the most sense, here, I thought, and it did. On my next step I planted my left foot at a slight angle and let the bat fall gracefully into its trajectory. *Swish* down low to the ground like slow pitch softball, an underhand swing fueled by adrenaline, disrupted by the satisfying dull clang of metal to bone as the bat connects with the place I imagine the actual jaw to be behind that ghoulish grin. The mask askew as its wearer falls backward, muffling the cry of surprise and pain as their hands go to their broken face.
It was really satisfying. Until just now as I wrote that.
I just fantasized about assaulting someone’s grandpa at church trunk or treat. *clang*
I even went to add a youtube sound video and it quickly became too real and horrifying.
A version of this each and every day just from reading my newsfeed. This one surprised me a little because it’s usually politics that makes me go all crazy eyes. I wonder how many days this rage idling has taken off my life.
I’d never actually do anything like that. I would absolutely respond with violence to a direct and credible threat, but not to someone’s ill-conceived trunk or treat costume. Sheesh.
Unless they are scaring my kid. Then all bets are off. But….I scared a toddler on my front porch when I was sixteen and nobody hit me with a bat.
What was I writing about?
I’m sitting in the lobby of a therapist’s office waiting for the person I brought to finish. A couple just brought in their six year-oldish daughter. There is a chalkboard for people to draw on while they wait.
The little girl is very carefully writing on the board: “I Love My Mommy…..”
And dad laughs with obvious discomfort and embarrassment. Kind of a quietly obnoxious cackle at being left off the sentence.
”…and my daddy very much.” She finishes and he looks uncomfortable in a different way. As he taps out the beat to Heart’s “Barracuda” on the arm of his chair. He cannot stop moving. Looking around to see who is looking at him (me. I am.). Nerviously taking off his ballcap and putting it on.
I wonder if the therapists ever review the footage from the cameras in here for insight into their patients situation. ‘Cause I see some.
Says the parent sitting in the corner of the therapist’s office judging people.
I wonder if I’ve picked my nose since I’ve been here.
What if I never wrote again after the first nanopablahblah post? Or, ok, this one. Wouldn’t that be funny? Well no, if you write one saying you are going to write and then quit, that’s funny but if you write two and quit you are ridiculous.
Oh god I’m doing that stream of consciousness thing again.
With the daylight savings shift, I’m trying to get back to the gym. I quit going in May when my kids announced they did not want to go to summer camp this year. I didn’t want to be gone all morning, for a couple of reasons, but it turned out they just wanted to sleep, so I slept in, too. It’s amazing how fast you can can wreck a good habit.
Then summer was over and I got on the scale and learned that I had accidentally lost about 15 lbs, and texted my husband, so excited that the “you are not the boss of me” diet had finally worked! I found a fitness coach online who was selling a packet of 8 weeks of freeweight workouts for $92. I have weight lifting experience and I have been to classes but I can never get myself to sit down and write a series of workouts, which leads you to wander around aimlessly, or just doing the same thing over and over forever – so it was worth it to me to let someone else do that at just under $2 each.
I went to the gym for two days and was really sore and really happy. Then some more life happened and I quit just for the week, promising I’d go back on Monday, and that turned into the full eight weeks. So the eight week program wrapped up yesterday and I’m starting today – but that is ok because I have the workouts, which is really all I wanted.
But that is not the funny part.
The funny part is that this coach, who I found through my social media writing job, is kind and supportive and has been messaging me once a week to ask how things are going. She’s also hoping I’ll buy more coaching from her, which is fine.
But I’ve been lying to her.
Not just, like, telling her the workouts are going fine, thanks for asking!
I’ve been making shit up. Like “well, the squat sequence was pretty intense but I powered through.” or “That was a totally new kind of lat routine! It was awesome! Thanks!”
I KNOW, WHAT IS THAT???
I couldn’t stop. I even posted inspirational memes to the private group in case anyone else felt like quitting. And then I told them I lost 15 pounds. Had this gone on any longer I would have been photoshopping before and after pics.
It’s a good thing I can’t pretend to post, because apparently I have lost my mind.
Anyway. So the plan is to upend the old plan where I have to go to the gym the moment I wake up. I’m going to write first thing after my kids go to school, instead. Then I’ll go the gym at 10.
So think of this as me, establishing a habit.
Because that worked out so well for me last Nanopoblahblah.