Attempt at Real Entry #101
Apr. 25th, 2006 08:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
handful_ofdustOver the weekend, something nice happened--pretty much the only thing, since it was wet, cold, utterly uncondusive to anything beyond the bare minimum. But here it is: Unasked, my Sunday BodyFlow teacher Jean (a tall, thin, insanely flexible and graceful woman, who apparently used to be some sort of rythmnic gymnast back in China) looked over at me as I paused between laying out my mats and putting on the jacket I usually wear for class, and said that I looked "very good". "I only see you once a week," she pointed out, "so when I see this much of a change from the way you were when you first started coming, you must have been working yourself very hard. Congratulations."
And yes, pathetically enough, that means a lot. It means a lot that I can now imitate various balance sequence poses (Half-Moon, Eagle, Star, Dancer) on my own time, and hold them even when I have shoes on. It means a lot that I can do a one-legged Bridge pose, that I can hold the Bow for more than a second or so, that I can maintain a Triangle during which I put my palm on the ground for more than a minute. I like being able to feel the various parts of my body working, to see my paunch shrinking, to feel okay about wearing an Australian size four shirt (albeit only at home, and only with a pair of very baggy pants to minimize said paunch's impact). When I look in the mirror, I consider myself both phat and cut. It's always pleasant not to feel a rush of sheer, cold hate if/when circumstances force me to consider this shell I have to walk around in 24/7, and that--more than anything else, though it also represents alone time and a cheap endorphin rush--is why I keep on doing it, even if I'm tired, bored and otherwise brain-dead. Because it actually works.
Anyhow. Cal is romping and rolling up and down on the bed behind me, negotiating it surprisingly well; he's only fallen off once today, just like he's only had a screamy meltdown over stuff I won't let him do twice thus far, which is quite startling given his recent record. Today he's smile-y and flirty, wanting to sit on my lap and watch TV with me, read, play with a bottle half-full of water like it's the most fascinating toy ever. It's nice, especially so because he's letting me write for once, which hardly ever happens when we're left alone together. Usually he wants ALL my time and attention, just like he also wants to do everything he can to punish me for having to go away every other weekday. And Christ knows, there's not much to do about that.
Other good stuff: I'm working on a new screenplay, in the outline stage, and it's unfolding with great energy, even when I can barely scrape enough time to myself to rough out the next scene or so, before inevitably having to go back to my "real" work. Tomorrow is Wednesday, which means I absolutely have to mark those outstanding scripts (ones I haven't got to yet, I mean, not ones which rocked my world particularly the last time I looked at them, which was LAST Wednesday)--but I've got a new book review to hammer at too, this time for a paying market, and![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
marcy_italiano thanked me publicly for encouraging her to keep writing poetry. So that gives me the warm fuzzies, too.;)
And now Cal is starting to whimper a bit, which means I have to sign off. Still pending: Thoughts about Silent Hill, A Sound of Thunder, My Neighbour Totoro, John Blackburn's A Scent of New-Mown Hay, horror movies that work as nightmares rather than linear narratives, and the difference between not liking something vs. not being able to understand it. Ta, all.
And yes, pathetically enough, that means a lot. It means a lot that I can now imitate various balance sequence poses (Half-Moon, Eagle, Star, Dancer) on my own time, and hold them even when I have shoes on. It means a lot that I can do a one-legged Bridge pose, that I can hold the Bow for more than a second or so, that I can maintain a Triangle during which I put my palm on the ground for more than a minute. I like being able to feel the various parts of my body working, to see my paunch shrinking, to feel okay about wearing an Australian size four shirt (albeit only at home, and only with a pair of very baggy pants to minimize said paunch's impact). When I look in the mirror, I consider myself both phat and cut. It's always pleasant not to feel a rush of sheer, cold hate if/when circumstances force me to consider this shell I have to walk around in 24/7, and that--more than anything else, though it also represents alone time and a cheap endorphin rush--is why I keep on doing it, even if I'm tired, bored and otherwise brain-dead. Because it actually works.
Anyhow. Cal is romping and rolling up and down on the bed behind me, negotiating it surprisingly well; he's only fallen off once today, just like he's only had a screamy meltdown over stuff I won't let him do twice thus far, which is quite startling given his recent record. Today he's smile-y and flirty, wanting to sit on my lap and watch TV with me, read, play with a bottle half-full of water like it's the most fascinating toy ever. It's nice, especially so because he's letting me write for once, which hardly ever happens when we're left alone together. Usually he wants ALL my time and attention, just like he also wants to do everything he can to punish me for having to go away every other weekday. And Christ knows, there's not much to do about that.
Other good stuff: I'm working on a new screenplay, in the outline stage, and it's unfolding with great energy, even when I can barely scrape enough time to myself to rough out the next scene or so, before inevitably having to go back to my "real" work. Tomorrow is Wednesday, which means I absolutely have to mark those outstanding scripts (ones I haven't got to yet, I mean, not ones which rocked my world particularly the last time I looked at them, which was LAST Wednesday)--but I've got a new book review to hammer at too, this time for a paying market, and
marcy_italiano thanked me publicly for encouraging her to keep writing poetry. So that gives me the warm fuzzies, too.;)And now Cal is starting to whimper a bit, which means I have to sign off. Still pending: Thoughts about Silent Hill, A Sound of Thunder, My Neighbour Totoro, John Blackburn's A Scent of New-Mown Hay, horror movies that work as nightmares rather than linear narratives, and the difference between not liking something vs. not being able to understand it. Ta, all.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
Offer to babysit
Date: 2006-04-26 11:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-27 02:15 am (UTC)If you're interested, I'd like to send you the extended version of the poem you suggested I work on further. Let me know: talking @ marcyitaliano.com