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Like Dylan in the Movies

Mar. 14th, 2008 | 01:20 am

Did things today, I suppose.

When I'm lying down or sitting for more than five minutes, as I am doing now, it wanders into my head that I want to run.. but as soon as I stand up I realize that if I ran today I wouldn't be able to run well tomorrow at all, and I really want to have one final good run before I leave for school again.  I don't know that I can explain how I realize my limits and capabilities, but I just know.  And this is where I need to listen to the leaden fatigue running through the blood in my legs and pay attention.  When it comes to mind and body and running, there are certainly times you need to whip the body in line to just suck it up and run, but other times sometimes, the bitching is legit.  Just can't run.

It's ok.

Have been listening to music lately like it's my job.  Sometimes I fall so hard in love with music I almost feel like I can't function without having something to listen to, something good.

Another Wilco day today, it can't be helped.

Every time I see a dinosaur on t.v. I wish I had made it to that dinosaur thing in D.C. where they had those, you know, animatronic dinosaurs.  Walking with Dinosaurs.  I don't regret much, but... man.  Those dinosaurs... I rather regret not taking more of an initiative to go see them. 

I haven't cried in weeks, but the closest I've come (other than the past two days running in the wind- single tears sliding determinedly one at a time down one windchapped side of my face before being swept off my chin) is listening to some of the music I played while in YAP. 

I was never much good, but you know?  All of us were real tight, that core group of us.  We dicked around like mad before and after playing, and during the breaks, but when we had to play, we played.  We all worked so hard.  We played and worked hard, and then goofed off hardcore as well.  We tried to stick together after a couple of us here and there went off to college, but it wasn't the same.  Not the same at all.   We met up at the diner a couple times, but us people who had gone off to school had new stories and those who had stayed behind were left high and dry and had nothing to say except it wasn't the same, it just wasn't the same.  It's funny; when I was a freshman, I remember being homesick not for my own bed or for even my friends from school so much.  It was for those still moments on stage, the white hot lights, scraped wooden floor, right before we started playing, those quiet seconds with the baton limited, our conductor's craggy face intent and deliberate and madly whispering words loud enough our audience could hear.  Bows on the strings, leaning forward almost off those black chairs with the butt molds.   I had  one of my best friends next to me, another straight ahead with the cellos.  I actually had a lot of friends with the cellos.  They were always on the other wing while we waited to go on- L and A and other A and other A, except for the times when he and I were off in a storage room those last couple concerts.  On my side was K and D- man, D and I used to get yelled at for laughing too loudly.  It wasn't even that obnoxious laughter for attention, it was just... not being able to hold it in.  I don't think I've laughed the same since spring my senior year in high school with those kids.

I remember when Atsushi- that Japanese kid who was just brilliant on the cello- played me part of Saint Saen's 'the Swan.'  It was simple- behind stage one night before a concert; it was the first time I had  live music played just for me and I wasn't in the least bit self conscious or anything, it was just...Saint Saens. 

But when it comes down to it, it was still the moments of silence on stage where everything and everyone was poised and quiet with the bright hot lights and everything was too infinite and eternal for even music.

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Abyss In Motion

Mar. 12th, 2008 | 04:37 pm

I have been increasingly careful with every word I write everywhere I write.  It's been occuring to me lately how every word I leave behind me is a reflection of me.  Being careful of my writing isn't so much trying to craft an image, but more understand and respect the impact of words.  We are responsible for what we write.

Was poking through my room today and after finding a couple bottles of half used massage oil and lube, was intrigued to poke around even more and see what else was stashed away in my hiding places in my room.  I have a lot, surprisingly enough, for such a small room.  Found nothing but an empty Trojan box, and too many waterbottles to count that I had used to sneak liquor around in.  Ah well.

Wilco day, Wilco run

Funny.  I ran more today than I've run since probably last summer.  4 miles. And somehow I don't have much to say today.  Except that I know when I'm going to run like that, I just know when I'm going to run more than I had planned. Somehow I just always do, and even though I had planned on only 2 today and attempt 4 tomorrow, I sure as hell just knew that it was going to be 4 today.  That would make 9 miles in the past three days.  That is what I should be running.

It was the strangest thing just know; as I was running, I listened to almost the entire album of Sky Blue Sky, skipping the couple songs I'm not crazy about.  I was on my third mile and Hate It Here when I started feeling tiny bits of cold on my skin and it wasn't until Leave Me Like You Found Me that I realized it was flurrying.  This is strange not only because it is not very cold out at all, but because it was sunny out.  It wasn't much, so maybe it was my imagination, but hey, you never know.

For some reason my right side keeps getting beat up.  I had an open scrape on my right heel that I somehow managed over in LQ last week while drunk and it opened yesterday while I was running, bled a tiny bit.  I still have a bruise on my right hip from carrying that box of beer last week, and I also have a funny sore there as well from where an edge of my iPod clip rubs while I run.  All minor, but it means I'm living.  Running, getting drunk, living.

I made my usual pilgrimage to the pet store down the street today- fell in love with some peacock cichilds.  Just lovely.  Miss my fish and can't wait until I'm in one spot long enough to have a large tank.

Also, I see tiny windy snow flurries sporadically out my window.  Not my imagination at all, I guess.  They're just not falling steadily, they're blowing wildly with the wind.

hitofjuice (4:33:29 PM): you realize its probably been exactly 4 years since i've started running with you?
hitofjuice (4:33:31 PM): crazy
hitofjuice (4:33:35 PM): i can't remember ever not running
AnniesTheWOman (4:33:57 PM): yeah I don't remember not running either...been almost 7 years now for me
AnniesTheWOman (4:34:00 PM): almost a decade :o
hitofjuice (4:34:02 PM): man.
hitofjuice (4:34:06 PM): we're just so awesome.
AnniesTheWOman (4:34:11 PM): indeed we are

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Bye and Bye

Mar. 11th, 2008 | 10:25 pm

My run today was very tired.  This may have been in part due to the wind; I can deal with literally almost every other kind of weather imaginable, but the wind?  The wind feels like a lost cause; it is as if I have been running on the moon and, on return to earth, have found that my muscles have decayed from underuse.  I think this may be largely because I haven't been running enough at school.  I run solidly and well, but I'm not doing the distance I need to.  I'm all proud of myself when I run a fast loop in the dark around campus but truthfully, that can't be much more than a mile and a half.   My loop through Historic is probably a bit more, but even running every day, I'm not up to the mileage I should be.  I had hoped to push harder this week than I have been; I hadn't counted on taking Friday through Sunday off, but then, I also hadn't counted on crashing in Laurel on Friday night either, so.  I figure, I ran 2 1/2 yesterday and 2 1/2 today, and tomorrow, as much as I want to do the same, I figure I'll do 2 and run the route along town, so Thursday I can perhaps attempt 4.  I think I can do it.  I want to do it. 

Last week when I planned out what I was going to run, I actually had the strength to follow through, so I'm supposing I at least have a shot at doing the same now.  I never used to be able to plan out anything; I had to let my mind's response to my body guide how I ran.  I think I may finally be able to let my mind do all the work, which is both good and bad.

I'm troubled a little bit thinking this over because in the end I don't think I quite follow, you know, the whole Cartesian split thing- the whole, distinct separation between mind and body (so far as I understand it anyway).  But I do know that when I run, I can distinguish between who is controlling what- mind versus body.  I know that sometimes my mind can trick my body into many things.  My body, on the other hand, likes to bitch out at the slightest hint of fatigue, ache, cold, humidity, wind, or any sort of tactile difficulty, discomfort, or hardship.  My head has to keep the rest of me in line, because in the end, everything feels better. 

You know, it has just dawned on me that perhaps running is a perfect argument to the Cartesian deal; I should probably know more about it to argue it, but for as much difficulty as I have explaining it, I know how I feel when I run.  I know what it takes, what happens, what works and when and how and why.  I know I sure as hell can't ever even begin to explain it, but God help me I try.  Even today I looked back at the beginning of this stupid livejournal, and you know, there is some sort of legitimacy to it.  Looking back on it I start seeing a bigger and bigger picture of not only running but everything else as well.  I think the difference between running and the everything else is that with running, I already knowfeel what it is all is- I don't have things to figure out exactly.  The everything else, well.  That's where there are the infinite complicationsquestions.

Right now?  Glass of water, Louis Armstrong, and reading before sleep.

Tomorrow I hope to cook more, read more Faulkner, run well, and hopefully recieve a paycheck.

I have been thinking about fairy tales.  It is also occuring to me now that I don't think quite as laterally as I had sort of assumed I had.  This might stem though, from the mere fact that I have so much to say about running.

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Frank and Ava

Mar. 10th, 2008 | 04:14 pm


Today was sleeping late and reading in bed with hot black coffee.  Too many thoughts to properly catalogue or record.

Usual run at Waveny.  Unlike that bitch ahead of me in her Bucknell shirt, I didn't try to avoid all that mud, and you know what?  I didn't slip on it either, like she did.

I can't help but feel a little scorn towards people who don't want to get dirty, especially while running.  That's what running is, getting dirty.  When I got home, my sister saw the wide swathes of mud on the insides of my lower legs, between the shins and calves, and she actually said to me, 'Ew, gross.  Look at that mud on your legs.'  Trust me, I like showers. I adore being clean, I like having silky hair and smooth skin, but in the end...I need to run, and part of running is getting very very sweaty and dirty and muddy, and, if it's a good run, it doesn't hurt to draw a little blood either on some brambles.   And  I really can't help but feel a little twinge of contempt when I see someone in front of me try so fucking hard to avoid a tiny bit of dirt and then slip  on it, well.  I laugh as well as feel scorn.  Kinda nasty, I guess, isn't it?  Ah well.

Beer and cheesecake in Sono with Laura.

Little feathers from my down blanket here at home keep floating around and resting in my hair and on my arms.

One last thing I've been thinking about all day and I need to get it out somewhere where I don't have to expend upon it or try to emote it.

Here's the story.

Two summers ago I was babysitting at this park in town.   This kid was real cute at the time, K.  She was maybe 3?  and curious and  while she could get real noisy and annoying, she was at least  real cute.   So she and I are feeding ducks  at the large pond at this park,  which is sort of sheltered by lots of trees, and a hill going up to soccer fields.  Well this kid and I are feeding the ducks, and funny enough, I remember what I was wearing that day- my blue SMCM lacrosse shorts and this striped blue and white long sleeved shirt with the sleeves pushed up.  I was always cold then.  I also remember I had my hair down and it was curly, and things were cohesive in an odd way.  I remember I had a bag of granola that was all I had eaten up until that point that day, and even then, K wanted a lot of it. 

So we're feeding the ducks, and this guy kinda strolls out of nowhere and starts talking to us.  Smiles at K, smiles at me.  He was tall, awkward, blond.  I recognized him from high school.  He was a year older than me and had a younger brother who I'd had a crush on in elementary school.   Well,  we got to talking for a little bit, and I don't remember a single thing we said really, other than exchanging where we went to schools and all that. 

So after a little while, he asked me for my phone number and all and I was thrown off guard, because I remember him being kinda skeezy in high school.  I think we didn't have any paper or something, so he couldn't take my number, but he did facebook me that night or so, and messaged me a couple times for my phone number.  I never responded.  Two summers ago, I didn't need to start getting to know anyone else.  I was too wrapped up in too many issues to socialize with even my own friends.

I found out yesterday that this guy killed himself.  At that same park.   He was found dead after his parents couldn't find him all day and they saw his car at the park, and there he was, dead near the same pond I fed the ducks at with K.  I'm not trying to be dramatic, but, you know.  It's a little eerie, to say the least.  It's just funny remembering about the granola and what I was wearing (I suppose I gave it a second thought following the episode what I must've been doing to get picked up out of the blue by some random guy) and all.

So it's eerie and uncomfortable, and I don't think I want to think about it much more.   Just had to get every word about it out of my head where it's been rattling.

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At Least You Had Already Read Those Two Chapters

Mar. 9th, 2008 | 09:23 pm

I have realized, in the past two days, that while under the influence I may do dumb things, under or overestimate things, or even downright fuck things up, I still have the balls in the end to do what I need to do. I can still grit my teeth and  deal with things.   It may not be in my character to like doing some things, but I can do them if I have to do that.

I'm glad about that.  I think people sometimes get mixed up what things they are capable of doing if they have to, and what things they like doing.  Same for thinking about other people- there are differences between what we can do and what we want  to do.

Home is.... home.  Not quite so dreadful as I've thought it before.

I'm starting to realize how.. quaint?  my parents are.  I am becoming an increasingly subjective observer of how my parents operate.  Actually, that may be only the illusion; I know that in the very least, I am parceling them up differently.  This appears, to me, to be because they are having increasingly less influence on my thinking.  Or so it seems.

Plan on cooking and reading and running this week.

it's funny, read in A Moveable Feast today the line about Hemingway feeling 'the death loneliness that comes at the end of every day that is wasted in your life.'  That one line got me thinking because somehow....somehow it seemed to explain why some nights are so incredibly terrible.  Unlike Hemingway, however, I'm not sure I can pin it down quite so easily to having not done a single specific thing that day, which seems to be the context in which the line is written.  Hm.  I do know that tonight I feel very unrestful, and that it is not so much because I'm at home, I think, but more because I did not run today.  I also think that it is in good part because of the 'death loneliness' that I find I want to drink at night. 

Am trying to be strong willed and not drink this week, my body needs the break.  The couple days I took off a week or so ago did complete wonders, so I can't help but feel a whole week will propel me to highly worthwhile subsequent weeks.

I missed last spring, I have no fucking intention of doing so this year.

Today has been clean sleep, afternoon coffee and socializing, reading, and hot cinnamon toast with butter.

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Mar. 7th, 2008 | 12:48 pm

Gloomy day. 

Not looking forward to transiting home, I'd definitely much rather stick around here for a week, but I think it would break my mother's heart. 

I suppose I was bound to crash after the last three gorgeous days.  Driving yesterday was bliss.  The fresh air through the roll-down windows was just what my blurry fuzzy head needed.

Have been feeling far more in check of my diffusion of emotions, and I suppose now is the real test, when I'm not feeling well. 

Absolutely cannot wait to run at home. 

I never realize how worn down I am until I get home and sleep for days on end.  I have been starting to feel myself crash a little bit- getting tired really easily, that sort of thing.  I can tell already that I'm going to spend probably the entire weekend sleeping.  

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I've Got 99 Problems

Mar. 6th, 2008 | 07:18 pm

But being a bitch ain't one.

Lovely day. 

Lonely black coffee morning to Bob Dylan, excursion to town, Beatles on the radio, tired but steady run, hot shower and shower beer, tofu stir fry and beer.  Early evening light and Beatles. 

Today was lovely.

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Black Coffee Morning

Mar. 5th, 2008 | 10:50 am

Fucking fantastic run again today.  Took last night off to drink wine and bake cookies (which ended up getting distributed to both worthy and unworthy peoples.)  But this morning... I woke up super early thanks to the chardonnay and was out running the alcohol off in what was a ridiculously beautiful morning.  As planned, I achieved the fantastic this morning, and it only makes me want to run more.

I kind of wish people wouldn't humor me when I'm drunk.

The wine is gone!  I had help with the end, but except for the occasional glass to a friend, most of the 3 liters was imbibed by yours truly.

Thought a lot this morning, so clear outside, and it's been occurring to me that my most epic and life affirming moments are always when I'm by myself or at least in my thoughts.  That is, it is almost never with people that I'm close with that I have these moments.  I can think of an exception or two, but for the most part, I think I figure this shit out by myself, and I really like it that way.

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Re: tree

Mar. 4th, 2008 | 04:00 pm

I laughed so hard yesterday at dinner about something (I don't even remember what) I spit coffee out onto the patio ground.

Up and down days, yesterday was up, and so far today hasn't quite been down.  Just a window day, I'm content with that.

Last night's run was even more fantastic; not only did I keep the same pace as the previous night, but I ran even longer, farther.  I have decided that I will take tonight easy- go a little slower, only do my normal amount, and tomorrow, well.  Tomorrow I will try to really push to do twice as much as I've ever done night running wise.  It's just occurred to me that planning this is a little like summiting Everest- push, push, retreat, push, push, retreat.

When I get home next week, I will do the same thing, start out decent and solid at the beginning of the week and hopefully culminate with something impressive by the end of the week.  And then, on a larger scale, I figure I can consider this week and next week push weeks and then the week I return to school I can just keep it steady.

I'm finally at the point where I'm strong enough to be able to plan this and not rely solely on emotional motivation to push me to keep going.  All in all it's a very satisfying routine- work and hang around at night, go for a hard run, take a hot shower and settle in with a glass of wine.  I bought a box of not so bad wine on like, Saturday and of course I didn't even think that I wouldn't be able to keep it for a long long time because of break coming up.  So, I'll just have to finish it.  I'm almost done, actually, I've probably finished 2/3 of the 3 liter thing, so.  I'm not particularly crazy about it, but it has to go. 

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Hot Coffee and Modest Mouse

Mar. 3rd, 2008 | 09:25 am

Can't stop thinking about running.

Now is the time for me to really push myself, really go all out for a couple days.  I have felt a noticeable difference in the way I ran last night and the way I ran even two weeks ago.  I can actually feel the muscles; if I touch the side of my leg as I'm walking I can feel all the muscles that way too, straining to work harder.  I can't help but think that this is how my body is supposed to be; this is how I want to be.  I am at the point where I might not be able to run the 7 miles I once was able to, but I can still run a decent amount.  I can tie on my shoes and just get out there running some night, breathing freely, legs remarkably strong, back, arms and elbows kept in line, in neat balance.

And so now, as I did last night, I will need to start running faster and farther.  Last night was fast, real fast.  I'm completely capable, I just need to play off that capability now.  I do sometimes wish I had someone like A here though to run with me, someone who already runs faster and farther and who would push me to do the same.  It only means now though, that I have to do that myself.  Which just might make me stronger in the end, I suppose.  I'll have next week to run at Waveny, run neat 2 1/2 loops.  Just hopefully it won't be too cold.

The day here is warming slowly, I have my window open already.  I have been up for an hour putting things where they belong, drinking black coffee, and listening to music. 

The permanent marker in my red shirt has not come out and I do not think it will.  My sheets are blue again.

Still having crazy dreams.  Woke up at around 6 this morning in the room by myself, really fucking belligerently angry, and I'm not sure why.  I was still drunk, and somehow waking up drunk was just... just it, dammit.   I didn't want  to be drunk.  But I went back to sleep and woke up clean and fine. 

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