I deserve to sit on my ass!

My arms feel like they’re going to fall off. I love it, strangely. It makes me feel alive.

After seeing through a long overdue conversation last night with Carolyn, I went to bed. I found my solution to staying up late, regardless of the fact that I’m allowed to stay up now and then. It’s so simple that I never thought of it before. As everyone knows, I sleep naked. As such, going to bed just means stripping and crawling into bed. There’s no transition. From the moment I put on clothes in the morning to the moment I strip, I’m “up”. I’m awake.

It’s no different than setting the light level for an infant. Setting a routine. I’ve set 11 PM as my “TIME TO GET NAKIE!” time. I kill the lights and don my bathrobe. Sit in the dark for an hour and suddenly midnight feels like “the middle of the night”. Suddenly 1 AM feels “late” where before it was just another hour on the clock. It’s the reason I leave my shades wide open. Let the sun come in during the early morning hours. Wake up at 6 AM and realize, “It’s 6 AM. It’s early morning.” Roll over and wake up at 8 or 9.

There’s such a huge difference between 11 AM and 1 PM. 11 AM means, “I could make myself pancakes for breakfast.” 11 AM means “I’m up before noon!” 11 AM means, “I slept in.” 1 PM means, “Ah shit, I slept too long.” It means, “If I GOTO bed at midnight, I won’t have stayed awake 12 hours.”

I woke up this morning minutes before 9 AM, when I had my alarm set to go off. I did half of the listening part of the spanish HW I had. I decided, “You know. I don’t feel like doing all of this. I’ll do half now and half later.” Mom and I went to the Pizza Hut buffet again. Maybe it’s not economical, but I like knowing I don’t have to order stuff. Besides, there’s only one or two loud kids in the place at that time, as opposed to a dozen. The difference between cute and annoying. Kids are so cute, aren’t they?

Home, I worked through the mp3’s one at a time. Not really that many, if you look at the total time. And before I knew it, I was finished. Hurrah! I decided that if I’m going to the Y regularly, I should get a combination lock. I keep an indeterminant amount of money on me. Heh. I brought a different shirt and shorts. I neglected a change of socks. Perhaps even clean undies would be a good idea, as I shower afterwards. I’ll consider that next time.

I find myself almost intimidated by people that can do more than I can. I just remind myself, “You want to do that? You can. Keep at it.” Nothing like scrawny girls being able to lift more than you can. *laughs* Toned scrawny girls. Makes a difference.

For the heck of it, I started running. It’s just not a good sign when I get winded after two laps. Which. Just shouldn’t happen. When I was in High School, I wasn’t in the best of shape, but I could at least run without getting winded. I remember the last mile I ran. I actually tried, and got around nine minutes. That’s a far cry from the ten plus I used to do when I didn’t care. Running is about all I’ll do for my legs, beyond the amusing ankle machine. “LOOK AT ME, I CAN MOVE MY BODY WEIGHT WITH ONE ANKLE!” …Which anybody should be able to do, realistically. Oh, and those two thigh machines. Nothing like knowing I’ll be able to keep my legs closed if I want to.

Bench pressing won’t do much for me. The ability to move bulk weights will come as I work all the extraneous muscles. How much could I do in High School? I’d swear I could break 100. I obviously wouldn’t bench anything without a spotter, so I’ll stick to machines for doing stuff like that.

My arms and my abs. I think that’s basically what I want to target. It’s just not right that I used to get cramps during sex! I worked myself until I felt like jelly, pausing a lot to drink water. After showering, I weighed myself for my own amusement. I weight 131 soaking wet. …*laughs* That’s less than I remembered myself being, so I weighed myself again once I was dressed. 137. I wasn’t aware my clothes and shoes totalled six pounds. Maybe I’ll start weighing myself before and after, so I can see just how much I’ve worked off. …Not that I’m trying to lose weight. I figure eventually I’ll gain weight in muss-kull mass. Otherwise I’ll be ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-FIVE POUNDS OF PURE SCRAWNY WHITE BOY MUSCLE. I liked being 125; I liked being that nice round number the way some people hate being nice and round.

Vacating the Y, I headed across Route Ten to CCM. I thought about what I could do before class. I could only think of one thing. “Dude. You need to EAT.” I woofed down a hockey puck, which was amusingly better tasting than the pucks at Tillett. Who knew county could have something in its favor? A guy on a laptop was amused at how inept our DJs are, so he started blasting music to drown it out. I was amused, as well.

I don’t have class tomorrow, but I think I’ll make Friday morning the day I swim. I’m more interested in endurance than the ability to lift large objects with my wang. Sorry, Arnold. If I make it a five-day schoolweek, I’ll be able to appreciate the weekend more. With the walls falling, I’m getting more ideas of what to do with myself.

Hmm. I just glanced at the Unix homework I have. It requires screenshots. Not really a problem, except I refuse to print here. They charge for paper! wtf! No, I don’t think so!

…Okay, I could just email the screenshot to myself and do it later. *looks at material again* This obviously has to be done rather quickly. I mean, not that it’s a bad thing. There’s also basic questions about what commands do. I could bs that, but I’d rather verify things with the textbook so I can give a more complete answer. Welp. I’ll do it later! *nods decisively*

*yawns*

Actually, I think I’ll just relax until class. My body’s saying, “Dude, you actually used me. SIT ON YOUR ASS AND STAY THERE.” Aaaaahhhhh.

Hmm. I keep saying, “I don’t need a trainer.” *fondles beard* I should either explore what a trainer does, or use ye olde internette to “train myself”.

Aaaand. I LOVE ALL OF YOU!!