Niceness – Writing – “Oh Plunge Your Hands In Water”

Posted August 19, 2009 by ManicDdaily
Categories: Uncategorized, writer's block, writing, writing exercises

Tags: , , , , , ,

I was thinking today about women from my generation–I don’t quite want to confess what generation that is, let’s just say that we are just old enough to actually remember when President Kennedy was shot–and the internal pressure many of us feel to be “nice.”

We are sometimes accused these days of being overly nice, or artificial or precious in our niceness, or just plain mamby-pamby.   This really is maddening.  Some of us are still too well-trained to get openly mad about these  unfair characterizations, but they are still upsetting.

This piece  deals with that issue indirectly.   It was actually a writing exercise, written with my writing buddy, in a ten or fifteen minute session based on the phrase “Plunge Your Hands in Water” from the poem “As I Walked Out One Evening,” By W.H. Auden.

(The Auden poem is simply wonderful.    Here’s a link to an online copy:  http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/as-i-walked-out-one-evening-3/.)

The piece has been slightly edited since the original exercise, but it really still is an exercise.   (Sorry.)

(Final point re my Blocking Writer’s Block series – a line from a poem can be a great starting point for a writing exercise.   While your exercise may be quite different from the poem, your work will may still get some depth from such an elevated jumping off point.)

“Plunge Your Hands in Water”   – W.H. Auden

At my elementary school cafeteria, the tiles were blue green grey and the trash cans were an amalgam of ketchup and fishstick skins and small red milk cartons usually half full.  The women were large and wore white stiff dresses like nurses.  They served the food in surgically cut portions on brown cafeteria trays, which were topped with mauve or yellow plates, the colors of everything an illustration of the word “faded.”  Their big rounded hair curved around their heads like the double breast that curved from their fronts, the hips from their sides.  It was good food–we all knew that–good meaning solid.  No one used the word nutrition much back then; what we knew was meat and starch, ketchup and pickle.

We sat at long tables, whose benches folded out;  the tables were cleaned with vinegar water and the whole placed smelled of the Golgotha Christ, his side or head or thirst, a reminder that we were all there, undeservedly, to be saved.

We were supposed to sit still but I dreamt that everyone ran from gorillas who chased us from spot to spot–through the lunch line, inbetween the line and the tables, then from the tables to the garbage cans.  They were big furry gorillas who ran on two legs, their forearms outstretched as they chased, while we ran, ran to do what we were supposed to do, and then sat where we were supposed to.

It was an old-fashioned school;  ice cream did not appear for some years.  When it did, all hell broke loose.  No one would eat anything else and Scott entertained us all with taking the chocolate coating from his ice cream bar and spreading ketchup and mustard on the vanilla ice cream, then re-anointing it with its chocolate sheathe.  The girls squealed in horror, the boys howled and scowled, as he took a big smiling bite, the ketchup/mustard smearing his lips with variegated orange like a fire-eater’s.   The girls pretended to bend over in nausea, and Scott looked like he felt incredibly cool for a time, though he was a troubled boy, a sad boy, a boy on whom I felt somehow that belts had been used, and who, in first grade, sometimes peed in the little classroom bathroom with the door open.   I felt it my duty to always smile at him, and he, in turn, sent me a letter covered in huge slanted writing I LOVE YOU.

I felt sadder than ever for Scott watching him eat that ice cream, thinking of his open-doored pee, and kept my head down, only looking up with the corners of my eyes, and even then trying to focus on the gorillas, the chase, and the fact that if I sat exactly where I was supposed to, they wouldn’t be able to get me, and maybe not anyone, no matter how they circled.

From Rat Race to Rat Rut

Posted August 18, 2009 by ManicDdaily
Categories: Robert Pattinson, Stress, Uncategorized

Tags: , , , , , , ,

In the Science Times section of today’s New York Times (August 18, 2009), is a great article about the effects of stress on brain circuitry.  (“Brain is a Co-Conspirator in a Vicious Stress Loop” by Natalie Angier.)

Ms. Angier reports a study by Nuno Sousa of the Life and Health Sciences Research Institute in Portugal which described how chronically stressed rats succumbed to habitual and seemingly compulsive routines (like repeatedly pressing a bar for food pellets that they had no intention of eating).  The study found that underlying changes had actually taken place in the brains of these rats, with decision-making and goal-oriented areas of the brain shrinking, and areas related to habit-formation swelling.

As Ms. Angier writes, the stressed rodents “were now cognitively predisposed to keep doing the same things over and over, to run laps in the same dead-ended rat race, rather than seek a pipeline to greener sewers.”

In other words, the stressed rats got into a rut, dug, in part, by their own brains.

There’s no clear answer to why the stressed brain is so prone to habit formation.  One possibility posited in the article is that the brain in crisis may try to shunt activities to automatic pilot simply to free up space for  bigger questions.  Which, because of the concomitant weakening of the ability to make decisions, the stressed brain just can’t deal with.

Ah.

This syndrome sounds familiar.   Especially the compulsively pressing the lever part.  (Although it’s a bit hard to imagine any kind of food pellet I wouldn’t eat when under stress.)

Still, after reading the article, I came up with the following list.

Ten Signs That You May Be A Rat in a Rut.   (Or How To Know If Your Brain’s In Stress.)

1.   When you are not sitting at a computer, you check your blackberry every few minutes, even on an underground subway train.

2.   You check your blackberry when stepping out of the subway just to see how long it takes to get service back.  You study the little flashing arrows as you climb the subway stairs, conscious of your breath.

3.   If, after a while, no one’s written, you start to open spam.  Just to clear it out.  Just in case there’s something that’s not spam.  You even open some of the messages for p*n*s enl*rg*m*nt.   (Yes, you’re a woman, but you’re only checking those to see how they managed to get through your spam filter.)

4.   When someone on the phone talks of an article they’ve read, you find it online before they finish their sentence.   (At least you think they haven’t finished their sentence.  You were doing a Google search so you’re not really sure.)

5.   You convince yourself that your interest in Robert Pattinson is a sociological study of our media/youth culture.  (Oh that RPatz!  Oh those Paparazzi!)  You are alternatively amazed at how little and how much is on Google News in the articles posted on Pattinson during the “Last Hour.”

6.   You peruse the sales of online retailers even though you have no money, and (thankfully) no pressing needs.  When you buy something, you congratulate yourself on how much you saved.

7.   You check all the stocks that have gone up dramatically in the last few months but that you did not buy.  (You studiously avoid checking stocks you own, hoping that you can not check those long enough to forget what they were.)

8.   You find yourself reading the same books again and again.  These books are fantasies in which unreal things happen to unreal people, ending happily.  You don’t find the books especially satisfying after the tenth read, but, on the other hand, they are also not disturbing.

9.   Your eyes are sore at night.  When you wake up the next morning, they are still sore.  Even so, you reach for your laptop and/or blackberry first thing.  You decide that a glare screen is the only solution, and shop for one online, looking for sales.

10. Your daughter shouts from the other room at about 9:45 p.m, “are we going to have dinner soon?”   You are working on a computer that has no glare screen.  “Just a minute,” you tell her some time later.

(Wait, what did they say about food pellets?)

If you are more interested in elephants swimming than rats racing, check out 1 Mississippi at the link above or on Amazon.

Person Blocks – “Pretending”

Posted August 17, 2009 by ManicDdaily
Categories: Perfectionism, poetry, writer's block

Tags: , , , , , , ,

Thinking today of blocks other than writer’s block.  A person block is a big one;  the force that keep one from putting one’s true self into the world, that keeps one from being publicly one’s self.

When I say “being publicly” one’s self, I’m not referring to celebrity.  (Although, weirdly, the subject makes me wonder again about my fascination with Robert Pattinson.  If there is anyone who has a hard time being himself in public, it would seem to be him.  See e.g.  screaming girls and clicking paparazzi.)

But I wasn’t really thinking about Robert Pattinson.  I was thinking more about people like me, perhaps you too.  How hard it is for me (us) to take actions that might make us vulnerable to criticism.  How difficult it is to show openly the parts of ourselves which do not fit so well into a mold of other’s expectations.  (Or really, one’s expectations of other’s expectations.)

These kinds of pretenses are deeply ingrained, at least for me.  Even as a little kid—I was not an especially hip one—I felt the need to pretend I knew all kinds of rock bands that I’d never heard of.   For years afterward, a more complex camouflauge seemed to be called for.  I won’t go into the specifics.  I’m sure most of you know the types of things I mean.

What seems strange is that we actually live in a fairly tolerant society.  I compare my situation with my mother’s, for example.  A teacher, she happened to move shortly after I was born to a county where women teachers were only entitled to substitute’s pay (about 50% of the scale) during the full school year following the birth of a child.  It was a rule apparently motivated either by (a) a wish to keep mothers of infants at home; or (b) an assumption that mothers of infants would be at home, whether working full-time or not  (i.e. an assumption that women with young children were inherently unreliable.)

My mom, both reliable and unwilling to take a pay cut, spent the whole first year of my life pretending I didn’t exist.

My mother had a concrete reason for hiding a fairly big part of her life.  But for many people (me at least), the reason for the camouflauge boils down to the simple fear that if others really knew me better,  I would be deemed very very imperfect.  (Not just imperfect, downright faulty.)

Unfortunately, however, a failure to be openly one’s self can doom one to being less than one’s self.    (Even less perfect!  And much less happy.)

My ex- husband, an artist, gave me some good lessons in this area (though I am only beginning to follow them.)  He is a master of carrying out what sometimes seems to border on the silly.  (I admit, carrying out the silly is a whole lot easier in the art world than in the average professional arena.)

In an early performance piece, he played a violin with a loaf of Italian bread.  He does not play the violin.  His lack of expertise with the instrument wasn’t important, however, since the violin he used was broken.   Besides, the bread, though shellacked, wasn’t a great bow.

You can probably immediately intuit the piece’s potential silliness.  In fact, it was truly magical.

I am not extolling performance pieces.  Many are self-indulgent, and full full full of pretense.  (One reason my ex-husband’s violin playing was so powerful, I think, is that it was not a piece about himself, but about Paul Klee during the World War II.)

I’m not extolling confessional art either.  (Remember, you may someday wish to talk to your friends and family again.)

What I’m urging, I guess, is not to be afraid to risk some silliness.  The unabashed showing of ignorance.  (Sure, ignorance isn’t something to be proud of, but pretended knowledge is way worse.)  A lack of hipness.  To be, in short, more openly yourself.

Here’s a sonnet (unfortunately not terribly silly) about the long-term price of protective coloration:

Pretending

After years, pretending to be what you’re not
becomes a nature;  a second skin
coating you like a heavy make-up, caught
in your pores, nestled in your grooves, a twin
of features, caked, you need not reapply.
But habits, faces, fail; pretense wears thin,
until, worn through, you can hardly try
anymore.  Too wary, weary–the word
“cagey” describes so much of what you’ve been,
the opposite of free-flying bird,
while unheard, and hardly there within,
is all you’ve been saving, what you hid, why
you did this, what wasn’t supposed to die.

All rights reserved.

Cowspotting

Posted August 16, 2009 by ManicDdaily
Categories: poetry

Tags: , ,

Stuck in city this hot weekend, thought of this country, contrary, poem.

Cowspotting

He said that cows always faced
In the same direction.
As in Mecca?
I asked, sarcastic.
As in a field,
he corrected.
You just look in any field,
he said.
The cows will all be facing
the same way.

We curved around
shallow hills spotted
with the honey brown shanks of still cattle.
Look,
I said, that one’s
completely sideways.
An anomaly
, he said.  The exception
that proves the rule.  There’s always one.

If he was someone who always had to be right,
I was someone who had to be righter.

For years afterwards,
even though I got to the country only occasionally,
I carefully checked the collective stance
of cows, never accepting a near unanimity of
moist soft snout.
Not even once.

All rights reserved.

If you prefer elephants to cows, or if you just like elephants as well as cows, check out 1 Mississippi at link above.

Blocking Writer’s Block Part VII – Don’t Show Draft Manuscripts Too Soon

Posted August 16, 2009 by ManicDdaily
Categories: children's book, Uncategorized, writer's block, writing

Tags: , , , , , ,

Rule No.  9  –  Be Brave but Know Yourself.  Don’t Show Drafts Too Soon.

In Part VI of this series, as Rule No. 8, I wrote, Be Brave, Read Aloud.  That post was about the liberation of reading your writing exercises aloud to your writing buddy, almost immediately following the writing of them.

This type of immediate reading is very different from handing out a written draft of your work, a manuscript.  In that case, I would not urge bravery, so much as self-knowledge.  (Or perhaps bravery and self-knowledge.)

Here’s the gist of it (for me at least):

I am incredibly insecure.  Especially about writing.

It’s frankly amazing to me that I can do this blog.  ( All I can think of is that it must have something to do with Robert Pattinson.  I mean, if you’re going to be silly, you might as well take it to the max!)   Even so, the night that I realized a guy in my office had discovered my blog name, I got physically ill.  I thought I would simply have to drop the whole thing.

But I kept on.  Because it really is useful for a writer to have a sense of audience (even a slightly noncomprehending one).

I also believe that, if you ever wish to publicize your work, it’s important to expand the limits of what you can tolerate–your comfort level, or perhaps more accurately, your discomfort level.    Keep in mind that even when your discomfort level gets quite high (that is, when you can tolerate a whole bunch of it),  you should not expect the discomfort to convert to ease.   You will still feel uncomfortable with many of the same things, the difference is that you will be able to breathe through more of them.

That said, be very careful of prematurely sharing work that is truly important to you.  The danger is not copyright infringement so much as ego infringement.  Ego incapacitation.

The showing of a manuscript can be paralyzing.  I usually cannot revisit the project when it is out with a reader.   If I do try to re-read it, it’s like looking at a mirror under an interrogator’s bright light.   Every single blotch shows up.  Stain, tear.  (How could I not realize that I had a long strand of toilet paper hanging out from under my skirt?)

Even after comments have been delivered, it can be difficult to pick up the work again.

A caveat to this rule.  The process does get considerably better with time. And, frankly, it is crucial to show manuscripts to test readers.  (Your goal is to produce a good manuscript after all, not to simply shield your ego.)

One way to reduce the possible unpleasantness of showing work  is simply to really know your manuscript.  A good technique here is to wait a few weeks without looking at the manuscript before giving it to anyone else.  Then, still before you give it out, read it again yourself.  (If you can stomach it, read it aloud to yourself.)

When you do give the manuscript out, try to separate yourself from it so that any criticisms will not seem to be shots at you personally.  In other words, go back to Rule No. 1 (in Part I of blocking writer’s block):  don’t care so much.

At the same time, don’t forget Rule No. 2 – care.   Care enough to want to make your manuscript better.  Accept that part of that process is finding out what just doesn’t work.

Most importantly, look for a sympathetic reader, ideally, someone who is also interested in writing.  People who are not writers will not realize (i) the amount of work you have done or (ii) how sensitive you are.

But be sensible as well as sensitive.  If the manuscript is about your childhood, maybe your mother, or even sibling, is not the best first reader.  If it’s about your marriage, maybe you should  start with someone other than your spouse.   If it’s about Robert Pattinson, probably best to avoid your boss.

If you are interested in counting and elephants and watercolors, as well as writing, check out 1 Mississippi at link above or on Amazon.  Thanks!

Writer’s Block – Part , Rule No. Don’t Show Your Drafts Too Soon.

In Part of this series, Rule No. , I said Be Brave, Read Aloud. I meant by that to read your writing exercises aloud to your writing buddy, almost immediately following your first writing of them. This type of exposure of work that is absolutely fresh (and clearly clearly a draft) is incredibly exhilarating. And the great thing about reading aloud is that you’re not actually showing anything to anyone—you read the words aloud, and then you can basically swallow them again. You can keep them private as long as you wish.

For me this type of immediate reading is very different than actually handing out a written draft. In the case of written drafts, I’m not sure that I would urge bravery, so much as self-knowledge. And, if you are someone who is prone to writer’s block, you may wish to exercise some caution.

Here’s the gist of it for me at least:

I am incredibly insecure. Especially about writing.

It’s frankly amazing to me that I can do this blog at all. All I can think of is that it must have something to do with Robert Pattinson. (I mean, if you’re going to be silly, you might as well take it to the max!) Even so, the night that I realized a guy in my office had discovered my blog name, I got physically ill. I thought I would simply have to drop the whole thing.

But I kept on. Because it really is useful for a writer to have a channel, some sense of audience (even perhaps a slightly noncomprehending one). Writing is lonely enough as it is; if it is not a tool of communication (simply because no one reads it), the activity becomes very hard to sustain.

Another reason I kept on is because I truly believe that it’s important to try at least to expand the limits of what one can tolerate–one’s comfort level, or perhaps more accurately, one’s discomfort level. This comfort or discomfort level is very different from the comfort zone. If you ever wish to put any of your work in public, it is important to expand the level of discomfort that you can tolerate. Keep in mind that eve when your discomfort level gets quite high (that is, when you can tolerate a whole bunch of it), you should not expect the discomfort to convert to ease (to any kind of zone). Many of the same things will still be uncomfortable to you, you should will be able to breathe through them.

That said, be careful of prematurely sharing work that is truly important to you. By work, I mean a manuscript which is still in process. Because I know a little about law, a lot of people ask me questions about manuscripts and copyright infringement. But the danger here is not copyright infringement so much as ego infringement. Ego incapacitation.

The showing of a manuscript can be paralyzing (at least to me). I usually cannot revisit the project when it is out with another reader. If I do look at it, it’s like looking at a mirror under a spot light. Every single blotch shows up. Stain, tear. (Oh, and by the way, did you realize you had a long strand of toilet paper hanging from under your skirt?)

Even after the reader is finished, even after comments have been delivered, it can sometimes be very very difficult for me to pick up the work again.

A caveat to this rule. The process of showing work does get considerably better with time. And in general it is actually crucial to show manuscripts to readers. The comments of others are absolutely invaluable. (Your goal is to produce a good manuscript after all, not to simply prop up your ego with fake pats on the back.)

But if you are prone to writer’s block, take care. Know your discomfort limit. Know your reader. Know your manuscript too.

One technique is to wait a few weeks without looking at the manuscript before giving it to anyone else. Then, still before you give it out, to read it again yourself. At this point, you yourself will be more of a fresh reader, and can perhaps see the weak spots yourself.

When you do give the manuscript out, try to separate yourself from it a bit so that any criticisms will not seem to be shots at you so much as at the manuscript. In other words, go back to Rule No. 1 (in Part I of blocking writer’s block): don’t care so much.

At the same time, don’t forget Rule No. 2 – care. Remember your goal is to write a good manuscript, a great manuscript. Care enough to make it better.

One last tip—look for a sympathetic reader, ideally, someone who is also interested in writing. People may not realize (i) the amount of work you have done or (ii) how sensitve you are.

Also, be sensible as well as sensitive. If the manuscript is about your childhood, maybe your mother, or even sibling, is not the best first reader. If it’s about your marriage, maybe start with someone other than your spouse. If it’s about Robert Pattinson, probably best to avoid your boss.

Charm, Charisma, Disheveled Hair – Teen Choice Not Swan Lake

Posted August 15, 2009 by ManicDdaily
Categories: Robert Pattinson

Tags: , , , , , , ,

I know I said I wouldn’t  (see post re not watching the Teen Choice Awards) but I did just watch a couple of clips, very brief ones, with you know who.  (I’ll give you a hint–not Voldemort.)

It’s an interesting lesson in charm.  (I couldn’t stop smiling.)

Yes, I’m sorry, it’s ridiculous.  (See, e.g. post re why my feelings for Robert Pattinson must be strictly maternal.)

Still (watch me try to turn this into an academic issue), I find the whole thing fascinating.  What is it that makes for charm?  Charisma?

In Pattinson’s case, there’s the face, of course.  And body.  And disheveled, hand-raked hair.

But a lot of the actual charm, I think, comes from  (i) his genuine (seemingly genuine) amazement, the fact that he still looks flabbergasted at all the screaming.

(ii) there’s also the seeming politeness.    He put his arm around Megan Fox in a manner that didn’t appear to be the normal gush of Hollywood overfamiliarity, but was friendly, gentlemanly, supporting her as they walked to the stage in the way that an older-fashioned man might take a woman’s arm crossing the street.  (No, it wasn’t  patronizing and yes, I’ve always been very naive.)

He pointedly thanked the fans,  Catherine Hardwick, and Stephenie Meyer.   (All with that same air of Britishy self-deprecating amazement.)

So there’s the charm.

Now the charisma.

Okay, my eyes are drawn to him for some strange reason.  (See again e.g. post re maternal feelings.)   But I don’t think this is just because of the face (or the body).

There is also such a quality as stage presence.  When they flashed the images of the “teen hotties” –what a term!   (see again e.g. post re not watching Teen Choice awards)—I was struck by the fact that the other male choices couldn’t hold my glance even when they were the only ones on the screen.

This evening I was lucky enough to catch the last few minutes of a South Indian dance performance in Battery Park City.  There were two female dancers, both excellent.  Both held their fingers in lotus-like extensions, both flexed their feet, strutting about rhythmically, both opened their eyes wide wide wide.

And yet I found myself focusing almost solely on one.

At first, I wondered if it was because she was on a more convenient side of the stage for my gaze.  (I was sitting at an angle.)  But when the dancers changed sides in the second half of the dance, my focus changed sides as well, my eye still drawn to the one dancer.

I couldn’t understand why.  Because her movements were sharper?  Maybe.  But I could never keep my eyes on the other one long enough to be sure of that.

Were her eyes more animated?  Was her presence more authoritative?

I tried to compare the two dancers, but the only difference I could be certain of was that the one I watched was shorter.

But (as I discovered when she thanked the musicians), she was also the leader of the troupe.

One of the first times I was truly conscious of stage presence was years ago when I was lucky enough to go to the ballet fairly frequently.  I saw Nureyev dance repeatedly.  Your eye (my eye) simply could not leave him when he was onstage.  Even when he was just standing quietly to the side, I watched him, unable to pay attention to the rest of the action, the troupe, even the ballerinas.   Charisma radiated from him like light from a supernova.  He wasn’t a very big person, and, of course, he was dark, his hair dark, the shadows below his cheekbones prominent.  Still, he captured all the light on the stage.

Baryshnikov also commanded the stage, only his charisma seemed to me to come from his skill, his energy, his ebullience.   He was such a great dancer when he first burst on the Western scene—he leapt so incredibly high–you felt like you had to watch him constantly simply so you wouldn’t miss anything.

But Nureyev commanded the stage even in stillness.

Okay Rob, maybe I’m getting grandiose here.  I don’t really think I can compare you to Nureyev, and the Teen Choice Awards (the little I saw) were definitely not Swan Lake.

The actual awards seemed to be full-sized surf boards.

And, frankly,  after all this, I’m beginning to forget about charisma and wonder more about my issues with biggish dark hair, high cheekbones.

Hmm….

Early Saturday Morning Gym

Posted August 15, 2009 by ManicDdaily
Categories: Gym, Uncategorized

Tags: , , , ,

(Before reading, you may wish to check out previous post re “Friday Night Gym” for analysis of comparative virtues.)

Five Reasons to Go to The Gym Early Saturday Morning

1.  It makes you feel incredibly disciplined.

2.   It’s not crowded.  The  other people there  look  sleepy-eyed but take-chargey.   You are quite sure, while avoiding all mirrors, that you look super take-chargey.

3.  These take-chargey people do not let the staff vacuum right next to where you huff.    Besides the staff is really sleepy-eyed and not in the mood to vacuum.  (They are the ones that kicked you out last night, remember?)

4.   If you go now, you don’t have to go later,  a time of  serious nautilus puddles.  Let’s not even talk about the Saturday afternoon pool.  (Has anyone studied the human body effects of diaper moisture retardants combined with chlorine? Lots and lots of chlorine?)

5.  You’re getting fat.

Five Reasons Not to Go to the Gym Early Saturday Morning

1.  Who anointed you as the keeper of the Discipline fleece?  And what about the links between sleep and productivity, huh?  Huh?

2.    Who said that “take-chargey” was a good look for you anyway? (BTW, you forgot  to take charge of the puffy circles under your eyes. )

3.  The staff really doesn’t care about your work-out schedule.

4.  If you went later, you could get kicked out at closing and you wouldn’t have to stay there so long.

5.  You’re getting fat no matter what.

If you want something to check out on a Saturday,  try 1 Mississippi at link above or on Amazon.

Ten Ways To Know You’re A Perfectionist

Posted August 14, 2009 by ManicDdaily
Categories: list, Perfectionism

Tags: , , , ,
  1. You don’t do anything perfectly.
  2. You don’t even do anything very well.   For a short time (while you are in the midst), everything may feel surprisingly hunky-dory, but as soon as you finish, you see exactly where you went wrong.
  3. If you do manage to do something well, it’s an incredibly trivial something.
  4. While what you screw up is vitally important.
  5. When it rains on the day of a picnic that you planned, you apologize.
  6. When it rains on the day of a picnic that you did not plan, you apologize.
  7. When you return your opponent’s tennis ball, managing to score, you apologize.
  8. When you miss your opponent’s tennis ball, allowing him to score but disrupting the flow of the game, you apologize.
  9. After you apologize, you apologize.  (You know how annoying that can be.)
  10. Sorry for that last one.

Friday Night Gym

Posted August 14, 2009 by ManicDdaily
Categories: Gym, Uncategorized

Tags: , , ,

Five Reasons To Go To The Gym Friday Nights

1.  It makes you feel incredibly disciplined.

2.  It’s really uncrowded.

3.  The staff are extremely attentive.

4.  It closes early so you don’t have long to work out.

5.  You’re getting fat.

Five Reasons Not To Go To The Gym Friday Nights

1.  It’s hard to feel good about being disciplined when the rest of the world is out partying.

2.  You see the same old people there every Friday night.  They are beginning to seem very same and very old.  You wonder about your own sameness and oldness quotients.

3.  The staff are so anxious to get rid of you they vacuum right where you huff.   You feel too bereft to ask them to stop, certain that they, at least, have other places to go.

4.  If you’re not going to work out very long, what’s the point?

5.  You’re getting fat anyway.

Friday A.M. – Almost There….

Posted August 14, 2009 by ManicDdaily
Categories: children's book, elephants, Uncategorized

10 A miss

From 1 Mississippi,  check it out at link above or Amazon.

All rights reserved.