At about 4:35 AM my alarm goes off. At 5 AM I pretend I’m a warrior and get out of bed and make coffee. Some warrior. I conquered the French press. I pushed it and showed it who’s who. Took over all of the presses pages. There doesn’t seem to be enough time. Time is short and fast. Or maybe we take long slow strides. If time danced to a rhythm it would probably be Count Basie and his Orchestra’s “Every Tub”. The swing of the pendulum. It’s a quick song. It’s a great song. And just like that, it’s over. The pendulum swings the other way. My time on the pendulum this week will be spent in the domination sphere. This Cat has a kink in her tail she needs to crack into shape.
I’m in a race against the sun and the moon.
The best scenes are when I’m allowed to do what I want. I’ll also say the best days are when I’m allowed to what I want. I want to train. And for the first time ever I have a backache. Moving requires a deep breath and belief in a higher power. I’m old and suitably afraid of getting older. My vessel is going to fall apart and all I did was sit down and laugh.
Eat an orange or have the sorbet? Or both? Is it possible to be both death positive and health conscious? I would argue that as a society we’re neither. The mercurial reality is this: we preserve dead people with more consideration than living people. We actively mourn while dying. Every second we are dying. Right now I am dying. Logic tells us that we are men => are mortal. Assuming we are logical, then we should be cognizant of our morality. Should that cognition inspire us to embrace the inevitable? What would a death positive and health conscious life look like? There isn’t anything derisive to say about either discipline, but they act like second cousins when in fact they are siblings. Whatever. This is what I think about. Also, I think about how the hell I’m going to rebuild this site.
Waking up early is arduous. God it’s the worse. I’d even say it’s depressing. All alone at the table with a cup of coffee and the anxiety that comes with reviewing what needs to be done. Then having to figure out what order it’s going get done. The coffee doesn’t help and you start to wonder if screaming into a pillow will take the edge off. But then you start moving and suddenly you’re sweeping the floor at the yoga studio thinking “this is fucking great, I’m so happy I woke up early as fuck today.”
When confronted with death we confront a paradox. We are simultaneously attracted to dead bodies and repulsed by them. Everyone wants to see a dead body, but no one wants to be one.
Break the Rigor
My preceptor tells me to break the rigor.
This means help the dead bend again.
So I take the man’s hand and bend his knuckles
Holding his hand I bend his elbow
I grab him by the foot and bend his knee.
This is breaking the rigor.
I am taking a piece of death away.
The stiffness of it.
I can’t take away it’s permanence. Only it’s appearance.
And only for a little while.
Whenever I’m in that cold prep room I wonder if
Actions in here transcend into the living world.
I wonder if it’s possible to break the rigor of our life.
Bend the things that make us feel dead.
I am sensitive to the world. The world makes me feel like I’m trapped alive in casket.
So, there was this man in the ugliest blue track suit I’ve ever seen at the hotel mini breakfast with a stack of pop tarts. His hand was seriously struggling to hold them all and with all those tarts in his hand he kept rummaging for more food! Because 10 pop tarts just isn’t enough he moved on to the bagels. Put the poor pop tarts in his pocket so he could grab multiple bagels at a time. Then he grabbed a hand full of granola bars or something. AND that still wasn’t enough! He had to get coffee. God, he was horrifying. The whole scene horrified me. What the hell is wrong with people? Take your portion then scram! It’s not all for you, save some for other people.
Mystery Science Theatre 3000 and UNHhhh have more similarities than you think.
I realized I was a time traveler and decided to go back to January mid February. No ones perfect. I’m looking for that faint line between being a productive person and becoming a workaholic. How do you know if you’re becoming a workaholic? As I age I think I understand how it happens. SLOWLY. It seems it starts with a few accomplishments then you move on to slightly bigger challenges which you over come then you start to take on a ton stuff. I don’t have a family so I’m free range to take on goals and responsibilities without any real consequences. ( I do miss my friends) . But what if you have a family or responsibility in a relationship. How do people do it? It’s such a strange addiction.
My body fat is so low I’m beginning to see the vein in my forehead. Although it scares me a little I enjoy poking it and knowing there’s blood around my head.