BOOK UPDATE: Back in June, when I decided that I was really actually going to write a book (as opposed to the five or six years previous, when I would just say I was writing a book), I made the decision to quit rugby so as to have more time to focus on the book. Apart from the three days a week consumed by practices and games and post-practice/post-game drinking, rugby also meant seven days a week of pain and exhaustion. It created a mindset that wasn't particularly conducive to, well, doing anything other than sitting on the couch and trying not to breathe.
My shin splints went away, I was able to sleep all the way through the night, and I no longer measured time in terms of the four hours one must wait before taking more ibuprofen. But the incentive to work out wasn't quite as immediate -- I needed to lift weights to stay healthy, rather than needing to lift weights so as to defend myself against a 300-pound lock.
Fast-forward five months to last night, when -- prodded by multiple factors* -- I decided to go through my "usual" weight routine for the first time in about two months**. It made me weep. I can barely lift my arms today.
What all of that has to do with the progress of my book, I don't know, but what else is there to say? I am slowly inching my way toward finishing this book and looking forward to December, when I'll be taking another full week to focus on it. I'm frustrated with how slow things are going right now, but I can't seem to carve out greater spaces of time. At about 11 p.m. every night, I suffer a minor anxiety attack over everything that I am not doing.
Remember this song?
(Actually, some of you may not remember it -- more's the pity for you. It's from my all-time favorite show)
I spotted today that Radio Solent (the regional BBC station that covers the Portsmouth area) is available online now. It's even more delightfully cheesy than I remember. It makes me want to drink warm Heineken and read political theory books.
Tonight's topic of discussion: People who don't own televisions. Actual listener comment: "I do an awful lot of knitting and I do love a crossword, Paul."
You know, when I die I want one of those cool martyr funerals -- replete with car bombs, assault weapons being fired into the sky, and all my friends and family jumping up and down chanting: "With our blood and our soul we will redeem you."
You have to give them points for style.
Devil-may-care California children are spitting in the face of personal safety for the sake of thrill-seeking.
Who wants to learn how to crazy-person dance?
I'll bet it was a challenge for police to make themselves stop this guy. It would have been cool to see him succeed.
*Those factors, in no particular order, were: I have begun to sport a little belly; I've been suffering self-conscious fits as of late; I have a shirt that I really like that suddenly doesn't fit right; the guy who sits next to me at the headquarters of my benevolent employer is a healthy guy who plays soccer and looks at me funny when I eat pizza; if all goes well with my book, I'll have time again in March to play rugby -- I need to be ready.
**Because I am so utterly self-conscious, I feel the need to point out that it has not been a full two months since I last lifted weights, but two months since I lifted them properly. I had fallen into a bad habit of speeding through a lighter routine.