Oh my yes.
The folkses was out in force tonight, yes they were. The Y was a little off, due to the fact that it’s been raining for 24 hours, it’s one of the superdark days of the year, and we’re fearing winter, as if it just started to sink in. I watched a row of people on the treadmill from some kind of uh, special program. The guy in the center spun his head a la Linda Blair to keep an eye on the girls on either side of him. At first, I thought one of the machines needed oil, but then I realized he was making some kind of screeching noise at the girl on his right, who was burying herself in People magazine, as far as one can be buried while walking and being screeched at. You know how you talk to someone all the time and just now realize you don’t know their name? Yeah, so the personal trainer dude who is not Larry came up to talk right as I was about to climb aboard the SS Crosstrainer, and we did the fitness center polka: he yells, ‘Hey! Lemme see the tattoo!’ and spins me around. As if it changed since last time? I dunno. Anyway, he attracted the attention of a woman two machines down the way, and we got in a deep conversation about something so fascinating I completely forget. Oh yeah, the weather. So he ran off to get weightlifter-man the medicine ball, and the weather-talkin’ woman decided to continue her deeply fascinating and involving conversation about the weather with me, while I was on the machine. I hate talking while I’m working out. It’s one thing when it’s a trainer, because they seem to get some perverse thrill out of sweat-drenched, panting chicks. (Oh wait. Now I get it.) But other people, no. It reminds me too much of that guy*. * The that-guy problem: I tend to recognize people everywhere and know that I’ve spoken to them in some manner before, but don’t remember why or when. And then I remember when they start talking again: Oh yeah, it’s that guy, the one I was going to avoid because he’s boring/drooly/a freak. Shit. Anyway. I lifted! And dude, I am ripped! Hahaha. Yeah, or something. What I was thinking about while lifting is that I’m pretty sure I have the strongest upper back and neck muscles known to man, due to this tension that makes me clench my shoulderblades together constantly. I need a massage. I need to remember how to breathe. Is it OK to meditate more than once a day? This is me breathing in, this is me breathing out. My sister sent me an article today regarding the strong link between stress and forgetfulness. Personally, I like the goldfish syndrome. So, let’s see. Oh yeah, work! Is so strange lately. Last week things were threatening to fall apart. The center could not hold and mere anarchy was… anyway, this week we’re all checking in with each other. Like, ‘How are you feeling? How are things going for you here?’ And it’s weird, because everybody has a beef except me; I just have a beef on someone else’s behalf. I tell them I’m very happy there, I wouldn’t keep renewing my contract if I didn’t like it, they treat me very well, and the only time I get pissed is when my productivity is hampered, which isn’t too terribly often. Not like the corporate world; not even close. So that’s the awesome thing about a small business like this one: they saw a huge problem brewing, and they dealt with it in a surprisingly effective way. I hope it worked, because we’re a good team. Tonight on the way home from visiting the Linden Hills hombres, I was thinking about two people. The first is so low that even my mother, the officially-acknowledged Nicest Woman in the World, still regularly says, “I can’t believe you let him in my home! And he kissed me!” And she shudders. He is a very unhappy person, and there’s a reason for that. The second is someone I’ve known of for a long time, but only learned more about recently. She’s smart, beautiful, and an amazing musician; she works hard and recently went back to school. Though I know she’d prefer I don’t exist, I respect her and I wish her well. OK, Homie just said, ‘I’m going to go rustle up some food’, so I guess that means it’s time to call it a night. Bye.Jenni