Have you noticed? The, so far, not-so-feeble attempt at NaBloPoMo? I can last for a week, that I know. But a full month? Only time will tell. No pressure, I tell myself. I'll just let it evolve, and if it happens, it happens. If not, why I'll gather my pathetic ambitions about myself and exit stage left.
Meanwhile, it wasn't writing a blog post that was on my mind this evening as I wrestled with a 16" circular knitting needle and a ball of blue yarn. I used to knit Aran sweaters when I was young, for heaven's sake, and here I am, closing in on my dotage, losing the battle with a mere baby bonnet! Those Aran sweaters were made on two needles. I'm new to this circular business and not adapting well. But, since sewing the pieces together was always my least favourite part of the process, I'll struggle on for a seamless product!
The Bean was sitting on the other couch, oblivious to my struggles, his brow knit in concentration, attention fixed on his computer screen. Studying? No. Googling? No. Writing a suggestion to the staff of the university gym? Yes!
For a little back story ---We've been nursing a broken heart here for a few weeks. And what does a real man do when a little wisp of a girl rips out his heart, throws it on the ground, then stomps all over it?
Why, he goes to the gym and "lifts heavy sh*t!" How else can he deal with all these bewildering emotions, especially when he has no experience of them? Rejection? If we lift enough heavy sh*t, and sweat a lot, and then lift some more heavy sh*t, and sweat some more, maybe the pain will go away.
So a lot of time has been spent at the gym lately, lifting "heavy sh*t." Trouble is, Taylor Swift, singing in the background, is not helpful when attempting to lift really heavy sh*t. It's alright the first time, but by the tenth time, brain cells are dying. Real men need heavy bass, angry rock or even, God help us, rap, to help them lift heavy sh*t.
The Bean had had enough. Time to e-mail the gym staff with a few suggestions.
"Please get rid of 93.3FLZ! I have single CDs with more variety than this whole station! You have a contract with them, they're being paid, and still they play ads? Very few people like the music, hence all the i-pods on the gym floor. Here's a suggestion; Get rid of 93.3 and put in a juke box. Then students and staff could listen to music they actually enjoy while they work out.. Please do this! Brain cells are dying! Thank you."
Meanwhile, prior to my struggles with needle and yarn, in consideration of his emotional struggles, I had been very patient and zen about the obnoxious music he'd been playing while lifting even more heavy sh*t out on the weight bench by the pool. Even though it was killing my brain cells.
Mine, apparently, are expendable.
I guess it's all a matter of perspective.