.
we lay silently under the string of lavender lights strung across the wall above the bed, pathetic and still. we are both sick. sick as dogs, angry and miserable inside out atoms. we lay together and treat each others bodies with the gentleness we routinely refuse our own. stroking hair and testing foreheads and cheeks for too much warmth. i kiss his shoulder rather than his lips. enough damage has already been done. swaddled in deep grey blankets, we convalesce. the timing is bad but not as bad as it might have been. i should have known some wiley germ would eventually catch up to me. i lucked out not getting sick while on my trip and i am thankful for that. it would've been awful to spend time stuck in bed rather than drawing against the tall, white walls in my huge, beautiful studio or singing karaoke at the pizza parlor/bar. still, this misery is miserable. such a waste of life to be sick. time slips and fails. i guzzle more NyQuil and hope that tomorrow all will be well within my body again and that the impetuous rhythm of waiting tables and making art will resume with as much fury as (more fury than) it had before.
i roll over and his hand finds my back. he rubs me gently as i lay with my eyes closed against the pressure in my sinuses despite his own discomfort. i marvel at this. his kindness. a moment of total pleasure inside this stubborn illness. i marvel at him.
his hand stops and i roll the other way. i want to see his face.
every night, his face is the last thing i see and i want it to go on being that way.
.
Showing posts with label health. Show all posts
Showing posts with label health. Show all posts
Dec 22, 2014
Feb 4, 2011
Oct 15, 2010
confession
it's 4 am and here i am in front of the computer with my mug of irish breakfast tea...
i couldn't sleep.
i've been having trouble staying asleep all week but tonight i couldn't fall back to sleep for the life of me. the reason is that i quit smoking. yep. the entire time you've been reading this blog, you've been reading the innermost thoughts and aspirations of a damn dirty smoker. ;) until the beginning of this week anyway.
it's something i kept quiet about here because i didn't want to inadvertently encourage someone else to take up the habit or somehow praise the addiction itself, romanticize it. and then there's the fact that smokers are subjected to some pretty crass and ruthless judgment from the general public too. strangers feel completely okay about marching right up to some random smoker on the street and alerting that person to how "disgusting" they are. it's insanely rude. insanely. i've always been blown away by the fact people think it's totally alright to behave like that and i really didn't want any of that rage and weirdness happening here on my blog. and also, to be totally honest, it's something i'd become increasingly ashamed of. i was not proud to be a smoker. not in the least. i felt pretty stupid about it actually. i started smoking as a very young teenager. 14 years old. and a dumb decision i made in my adolescence was ruling my adult life. it made me feel like a pathetic asshole, to put it bluntly. and i'm afraid of chemo. i'm afraid of what this could lead to. i feel bad about how negligent i've been in terms of caring for my own life. i feel bad i let so many things get in the way. i feel bad that i willingly traded my opportunities to lead a positive and healthy life to sit down in the muck and bullshit with other people.
i'm amazed at how quickly time has passed and how distracted i've been...
and there are all the reasons, all the events, stacked one on top of the other. the long line of trauma and tragedy and every single hurdle that gets nailed down in front of you. time moves so damn fast when there is always a crisis to attend to.
and then a member of my family gets cancer. and i turn 30. and i realize how damn sad all this is... that i've spent more than half my life (16 years) living under the weight of an addiction, and that i developed an addiction of this magnitude as a child. it made me so profoundly sad. so sad i felt ill. and all i could see was wreckage. the wreckage of a family. everywhere, everywhere. i think i've been trying to grieve us... what has happened, what was lost, who we've become... for a very long time. and maybe that ball is finally starting to roll? all i know is that a year ago, on my 29th birthday, i decided i'd had enough. i decided to take the time NOW to clean up the mess, clear it off my path so that i could at least see where i was standing. i decided it was time to start building a life that felt right for me... no matter how long it might take to build. i decided it was time to take Time for myself.
that's where The Almighty Jog originated. and no alcohol. and then about a year later, The Almighty Jog graduates to The Mighty Run. No Alcohol turns into No Refined Sugar. and since that habit was way easier to kick than i thought it'd be, i thought: fuck it, girl. do it now. right now. it's time. and so i quit smoking.
and this is not my first attempt, but this is the first time i've ever lived a healthy life. between running and drinking tea and not eating sugary foods, it's a lot easier than i remember it being- quitting. A LOT easier. in fact, every day i feel better and better. i guess i was just completely ready to give it up... a horribly stupid and malicious thread of my childhood.
i need it to be GONE.
all this to say: sleep disturbances are a very common withdrawal symptom. :)
good morning!!!!
i couldn't sleep.
i've been having trouble staying asleep all week but tonight i couldn't fall back to sleep for the life of me. the reason is that i quit smoking. yep. the entire time you've been reading this blog, you've been reading the innermost thoughts and aspirations of a damn dirty smoker. ;) until the beginning of this week anyway.
it's something i kept quiet about here because i didn't want to inadvertently encourage someone else to take up the habit or somehow praise the addiction itself, romanticize it. and then there's the fact that smokers are subjected to some pretty crass and ruthless judgment from the general public too. strangers feel completely okay about marching right up to some random smoker on the street and alerting that person to how "disgusting" they are. it's insanely rude. insanely. i've always been blown away by the fact people think it's totally alright to behave like that and i really didn't want any of that rage and weirdness happening here on my blog. and also, to be totally honest, it's something i'd become increasingly ashamed of. i was not proud to be a smoker. not in the least. i felt pretty stupid about it actually. i started smoking as a very young teenager. 14 years old. and a dumb decision i made in my adolescence was ruling my adult life. it made me feel like a pathetic asshole, to put it bluntly. and i'm afraid of chemo. i'm afraid of what this could lead to. i feel bad about how negligent i've been in terms of caring for my own life. i feel bad i let so many things get in the way. i feel bad that i willingly traded my opportunities to lead a positive and healthy life to sit down in the muck and bullshit with other people.
i'm amazed at how quickly time has passed and how distracted i've been...
and there are all the reasons, all the events, stacked one on top of the other. the long line of trauma and tragedy and every single hurdle that gets nailed down in front of you. time moves so damn fast when there is always a crisis to attend to.
and then a member of my family gets cancer. and i turn 30. and i realize how damn sad all this is... that i've spent more than half my life (16 years) living under the weight of an addiction, and that i developed an addiction of this magnitude as a child. it made me so profoundly sad. so sad i felt ill. and all i could see was wreckage. the wreckage of a family. everywhere, everywhere. i think i've been trying to grieve us... what has happened, what was lost, who we've become... for a very long time. and maybe that ball is finally starting to roll? all i know is that a year ago, on my 29th birthday, i decided i'd had enough. i decided to take the time NOW to clean up the mess, clear it off my path so that i could at least see where i was standing. i decided it was time to start building a life that felt right for me... no matter how long it might take to build. i decided it was time to take Time for myself.
that's where The Almighty Jog originated. and no alcohol. and then about a year later, The Almighty Jog graduates to The Mighty Run. No Alcohol turns into No Refined Sugar. and since that habit was way easier to kick than i thought it'd be, i thought: fuck it, girl. do it now. right now. it's time. and so i quit smoking.
and this is not my first attempt, but this is the first time i've ever lived a healthy life. between running and drinking tea and not eating sugary foods, it's a lot easier than i remember it being- quitting. A LOT easier. in fact, every day i feel better and better. i guess i was just completely ready to give it up... a horribly stupid and malicious thread of my childhood.
i need it to be GONE.
all this to say: sleep disturbances are a very common withdrawal symptom. :)
good morning!!!!
Mar 29, 2010
the cost
i suppose the time comes for everybody... and maybe numerous times throughout a person's life- the need to evaluate, re-evaluate, define, and re-define the mode and means of one's own life. to discern a path that is true and respectful of who they are.
all my life, i have tried to be the bright spot in the lives of others. the thing that produced laughter and acceptance. the thing that was never disappointing, never hard. the thing that never called for struggle or extra attention, that never got in the way, that never made another person feel bad about themself. the thing.
the thing.
but i don't want to be a 'thing'. i want to be a human. i don't want to feel ashamed of being human. 'things' are perfect. 'things' make no mistakes because they have no desires, no goals, no dreams of their own. they don't learn, they don't make plans, they don't love, they don't hate, they don't aspire to anything. there is nothing for a 'thing' to figure out. they don't need to navigate, they sit in one place. they perform functions that are pleasing to the one who owns them. they do not ever dissatisfy or question or assert a will.
i am talking about the role each person plays. i am talking about waking up one day and seeing yourself, even if just for a moment, as you really are- flaws and successes, traumas and resilience, fear and pride.
i am talking about how one fits in... or how one goes about fitting in... especially within one's own family. how the time comes to create adult relationships, to overcome childhood, and relieve yourself of the expectations that came along for the ride back then. the survival techniques children learn to use become destructive and self-sabotaging if allowed to be used in adulthood. and so... i'm thinking there comes a time when detachment becomes (sadly) necessary. i'm thinking there comes a time for flying solo and enduring the confusion, the hurt, the rumours, the disappointment, the accusations... in order to finally be accepted for who you really are, not who you're expected to be.
the old role is no longer useful. in fact, it is only damaging.
this is something most people go through as teenagers. for some reason i thought that once you got through those years, the need to assert yourself, to find the courage to be true to yourself, to stand on your values and not lift your foot, would be assuaged. why did i think that this declaration would only need to happen once? and i'm not talking about being pig-headed or arrogant, i'm talking about the steps one takes in order to finally be healthy.
i have a deep, bad problem of remaining silent. maybe that is what motivates my practice? to speak somehow. to drop the role of "secret keeper". to expose the fissure, the crack that runs right down the middle of me. to expose the fault-line, the damaged joint, the wound that goes on weeping and weeping... in silence, undercover, hidden, ashamed, humiliated. the trigger.
hiding the wound does not help it heal. it causes it to fester.
exposure... letting in the air... becomes a need.
i have been warned, over and over and over again, that when a person decides to remove themself from the chaos and work toward health, that there will be people who respond to this good act with malice and spite. they will attempt to sabotage your attempts toward health through manipulation and out-right blackmail, whether emotional or otherwise.
most people in my life are so wonderfully supportive of my work and desire to repair the effects of trauma that i am overwhelmed by such a huge sweep of gratitude, an endless appreciation for who they are, a massive swell of love and happiness and playfulness even... but there are a few who aren't. and that cuts deep. they see my repair as a punishment for them and they are not pleased.
i was talking to a close friend about their experiences in AA and what they learned about addiction and toxic relationships- that they must be cut off instantly, swiftly, completely (at least for a time) in order for you to focus on yourself, your life, and how to heal. that just as alcohol isn't going to run away from the alcoholic, the enabled won't run away from the enabler. just as a recovering alcoholic does not hang out in bars, the enabler does not hang out with the damaged people who play on their compassions. the role must be set down and walked away from. the hook must be pulled out and let go.
this is a horribly painful thing to do.
the hook is in deep.
there is an empty place now where the hook used to be.
it would feel better to stick the hook back in than be left with such a huge gaping emptiness.
but the answer is no.
the hook stays out. the foot stays down.
it is horribly painful to maintain such an action. horrible, horrible, horrible. and shame and guilt leak thickly from the wound where the hook was... like a phantom limb, an ache that will not leave, that won't be ignored, a call that gets louder and louder and louder. love twisted by such deep regret, such guilt... the bad lesson that love requires sacrifice of self. the bad lesson that to care about one's own life in 'selfish'. that "if you really loved me..."
i spent 2 years locked inside a major depression. i will not walk back in to that. relationships that require me to be someone i'm not, to do what i'm told without question, without thought as to my total right to be healthy and safe, that pray on my compassion, that force me in to a life of secrecy and shame and overwhelming expectations for perfection, will be let go of. i do not care what it costs me. the cost of not doing this is so much higher.
i am so grateful my mother sprang in to action when she did... the gentle word, the offering of non-judgemental truth brought the lie down and i had a hand, finally, to grab and pull myself up.
it was a choice between my life and my continued obedience to someone else that put me in that big bad depression in the first place... the crushing guilt that followed my decision to choose my own life. the price of being someone else's savior is too great. it is your own life. this is not an exaggeration and it is not dramatic. it is the cut and dried truth. anyone who's ever lived under the crushing weight of perfectionism and obedience knows exactly what i'm talking about: that you are living a lie. that, after a certain point, you are not just a victim anymore, you are an accomplice as well. in order to live, the lie must be brought down.
there are people that think i am cruel. they don't know what i know. and i can take half the responsibility for that because i'm so good at being quiet. i'm so good at being a 'thing'. i've been so concerned with not disappointing anyone, never letting on about what the stakes really are, that of course they don't understand. i have to trust that, in time, amends can be made, and mistakes can be forgiven.
i will trust that healthy relationships are possible and i will not abandon that hope. i won't.
that hook... i won't even look at it.
all my life, i have tried to be the bright spot in the lives of others. the thing that produced laughter and acceptance. the thing that was never disappointing, never hard. the thing that never called for struggle or extra attention, that never got in the way, that never made another person feel bad about themself. the thing.
the thing.
but i don't want to be a 'thing'. i want to be a human. i don't want to feel ashamed of being human. 'things' are perfect. 'things' make no mistakes because they have no desires, no goals, no dreams of their own. they don't learn, they don't make plans, they don't love, they don't hate, they don't aspire to anything. there is nothing for a 'thing' to figure out. they don't need to navigate, they sit in one place. they perform functions that are pleasing to the one who owns them. they do not ever dissatisfy or question or assert a will.
i am talking about the role each person plays. i am talking about waking up one day and seeing yourself, even if just for a moment, as you really are- flaws and successes, traumas and resilience, fear and pride.
i am talking about how one fits in... or how one goes about fitting in... especially within one's own family. how the time comes to create adult relationships, to overcome childhood, and relieve yourself of the expectations that came along for the ride back then. the survival techniques children learn to use become destructive and self-sabotaging if allowed to be used in adulthood. and so... i'm thinking there comes a time when detachment becomes (sadly) necessary. i'm thinking there comes a time for flying solo and enduring the confusion, the hurt, the rumours, the disappointment, the accusations... in order to finally be accepted for who you really are, not who you're expected to be.
the old role is no longer useful. in fact, it is only damaging.
this is something most people go through as teenagers. for some reason i thought that once you got through those years, the need to assert yourself, to find the courage to be true to yourself, to stand on your values and not lift your foot, would be assuaged. why did i think that this declaration would only need to happen once? and i'm not talking about being pig-headed or arrogant, i'm talking about the steps one takes in order to finally be healthy.
i have a deep, bad problem of remaining silent. maybe that is what motivates my practice? to speak somehow. to drop the role of "secret keeper". to expose the fissure, the crack that runs right down the middle of me. to expose the fault-line, the damaged joint, the wound that goes on weeping and weeping... in silence, undercover, hidden, ashamed, humiliated. the trigger.
hiding the wound does not help it heal. it causes it to fester.
exposure... letting in the air... becomes a need.
i have been warned, over and over and over again, that when a person decides to remove themself from the chaos and work toward health, that there will be people who respond to this good act with malice and spite. they will attempt to sabotage your attempts toward health through manipulation and out-right blackmail, whether emotional or otherwise.
most people in my life are so wonderfully supportive of my work and desire to repair the effects of trauma that i am overwhelmed by such a huge sweep of gratitude, an endless appreciation for who they are, a massive swell of love and happiness and playfulness even... but there are a few who aren't. and that cuts deep. they see my repair as a punishment for them and they are not pleased.
i was talking to a close friend about their experiences in AA and what they learned about addiction and toxic relationships- that they must be cut off instantly, swiftly, completely (at least for a time) in order for you to focus on yourself, your life, and how to heal. that just as alcohol isn't going to run away from the alcoholic, the enabled won't run away from the enabler. just as a recovering alcoholic does not hang out in bars, the enabler does not hang out with the damaged people who play on their compassions. the role must be set down and walked away from. the hook must be pulled out and let go.
this is a horribly painful thing to do.
the hook is in deep.
there is an empty place now where the hook used to be.
it would feel better to stick the hook back in than be left with such a huge gaping emptiness.
but the answer is no.
the hook stays out. the foot stays down.
it is horribly painful to maintain such an action. horrible, horrible, horrible. and shame and guilt leak thickly from the wound where the hook was... like a phantom limb, an ache that will not leave, that won't be ignored, a call that gets louder and louder and louder. love twisted by such deep regret, such guilt... the bad lesson that love requires sacrifice of self. the bad lesson that to care about one's own life in 'selfish'. that "if you really loved me..."
i spent 2 years locked inside a major depression. i will not walk back in to that. relationships that require me to be someone i'm not, to do what i'm told without question, without thought as to my total right to be healthy and safe, that pray on my compassion, that force me in to a life of secrecy and shame and overwhelming expectations for perfection, will be let go of. i do not care what it costs me. the cost of not doing this is so much higher.
i am so grateful my mother sprang in to action when she did... the gentle word, the offering of non-judgemental truth brought the lie down and i had a hand, finally, to grab and pull myself up.
it was a choice between my life and my continued obedience to someone else that put me in that big bad depression in the first place... the crushing guilt that followed my decision to choose my own life. the price of being someone else's savior is too great. it is your own life. this is not an exaggeration and it is not dramatic. it is the cut and dried truth. anyone who's ever lived under the crushing weight of perfectionism and obedience knows exactly what i'm talking about: that you are living a lie. that, after a certain point, you are not just a victim anymore, you are an accomplice as well. in order to live, the lie must be brought down.
there are people that think i am cruel. they don't know what i know. and i can take half the responsibility for that because i'm so good at being quiet. i'm so good at being a 'thing'. i've been so concerned with not disappointing anyone, never letting on about what the stakes really are, that of course they don't understand. i have to trust that, in time, amends can be made, and mistakes can be forgiven.
i will trust that healthy relationships are possible and i will not abandon that hope. i won't.
that hook... i won't even look at it.
Nov 10, 2009
please...
in a few hours, i'll be locking the door behind me and heading down to my home-town for a few days. very spur of the moment. there's some family stuff going on. my brother burned a line up the 5 freeway yesterday to come get me. he's sleeping, finally, here in my little living room a few feet away. it's been a few days since he's gotten any real, good sleep so i am being as quiet as i can. he needs it. today, my job is to be a good friend and sister to him.
he came inside and saw the big elsie portrait and fell in love. it made me happy. i think it's important to love her... even if you don't know her story. there's just something about the look on that little girls' face. a premonition. a history. a call. a call to action. and it is worrisome. i'm going to let him have the portrait. maybe she can work some magic in his home. guard the corners and arches. sing in a whisper.
,+30x22,+water+soluble+graphite+and+gouache+on+paper,+angela+simione++2009.JPG)
anyway... i don't have much information about what's going on but the information i do have isn't good. i hope it's all been misconstrued. i hope there's been a misunderstanding, a mistake. i'll know when i see her. but if you're reading this, would you add my mama to the list of people you pray for? please.
he came inside and saw the big elsie portrait and fell in love. it made me happy. i think it's important to love her... even if you don't know her story. there's just something about the look on that little girls' face. a premonition. a history. a call. a call to action. and it is worrisome. i'm going to let him have the portrait. maybe she can work some magic in his home. guard the corners and arches. sing in a whisper.
,+30x22,+water+soluble+graphite+and+gouache+on+paper,+angela+simione++2009.JPG)
anyway... i don't have much information about what's going on but the information i do have isn't good. i hope it's all been misconstrued. i hope there's been a misunderstanding, a mistake. i'll know when i see her. but if you're reading this, would you add my mama to the list of people you pray for? please.
Sep 22, 2009
breathe hard...
already with my black oil this morning. already. :)
and tons of scribbling in my notebook too.
but The Jog awaits and i can't let up when it comes to that. 5 months in and 2 inches disappeared from my waistline, not to mention the wonderful wide-open calm that rolls in after breathing hard and stomping and sweating my way through the big ol' morning vineyard.
there are NO TRESPASSING signs up now but the owner said they don't apply to me so i am thankful for those signs. no bad-mood tourists to ruin my day at the start. no grimaces and judgement. tourists are full of grimaces and judgement. at least the ones who make their way out here. they are covered in sneers. i have no clue what that's about but it's true. it makes no sense. i'm glad they've been barred. the air and space is mine and the signs ensure i don't have to share it.
i'm beginning to feel pretty again. it's been awhile since i felt that way and it's nice. i've missed my angles. i'm happy to see them returning. i've got the same insecurities most women have and, yeah i know it's all unreasonable and blah blah blah, but i'm finally starting to feel strong again... and that's the thing i've missed most.
before i slipped that disk in my back (twice!), i felt strong and capable and i knew i was able to defend myself if i had to. for the past 2 years, i haven't felt that way at all. i couldn't defend myself one bit. now, 5 months in and 2 inches lost and all sorts of leg muscles later, i've at least got a fighting chance. i can at least out-run someone. and just knowing that i can if i had to makes me feel better, more capable, more independent, a bit less fearful, a bit less worrisome, and a lot more pretty. it's a good feeling and a good reason to keep it up.
and my little girl dog loves it too. she bounces along at my side and smiles at the world and on days when i don't want to do it for myself i do it for her. her happiness and health is way more important to me than my own and i don't let myself off the hook when it comes to that. it's my job to love her and give her the things she needs. it's my job to make sure she is healthy and happy and has space to play in. she likes the smells and the birds and the shade of the tall vines. she is always so excited, full of endless happiness when we head out to the vineyard. i aspire to be more like her in that regard- every day is the best day ever to her... and i want to feel that way too. The Jog can (and does) supply that.
once again, it's a morning thing. part of my wake-up.
why wait til the end of the day to feel that the day is good?
and tons of scribbling in my notebook too.
but The Jog awaits and i can't let up when it comes to that. 5 months in and 2 inches disappeared from my waistline, not to mention the wonderful wide-open calm that rolls in after breathing hard and stomping and sweating my way through the big ol' morning vineyard.
there are NO TRESPASSING signs up now but the owner said they don't apply to me so i am thankful for those signs. no bad-mood tourists to ruin my day at the start. no grimaces and judgement. tourists are full of grimaces and judgement. at least the ones who make their way out here. they are covered in sneers. i have no clue what that's about but it's true. it makes no sense. i'm glad they've been barred. the air and space is mine and the signs ensure i don't have to share it.
i'm beginning to feel pretty again. it's been awhile since i felt that way and it's nice. i've missed my angles. i'm happy to see them returning. i've got the same insecurities most women have and, yeah i know it's all unreasonable and blah blah blah, but i'm finally starting to feel strong again... and that's the thing i've missed most.
before i slipped that disk in my back (twice!), i felt strong and capable and i knew i was able to defend myself if i had to. for the past 2 years, i haven't felt that way at all. i couldn't defend myself one bit. now, 5 months in and 2 inches lost and all sorts of leg muscles later, i've at least got a fighting chance. i can at least out-run someone. and just knowing that i can if i had to makes me feel better, more capable, more independent, a bit less fearful, a bit less worrisome, and a lot more pretty. it's a good feeling and a good reason to keep it up.
and my little girl dog loves it too. she bounces along at my side and smiles at the world and on days when i don't want to do it for myself i do it for her. her happiness and health is way more important to me than my own and i don't let myself off the hook when it comes to that. it's my job to love her and give her the things she needs. it's my job to make sure she is healthy and happy and has space to play in. she likes the smells and the birds and the shade of the tall vines. she is always so excited, full of endless happiness when we head out to the vineyard. i aspire to be more like her in that regard- every day is the best day ever to her... and i want to feel that way too. The Jog can (and does) supply that.
once again, it's a morning thing. part of my wake-up.
why wait til the end of the day to feel that the day is good?
Jul 13, 2009
all better!
The Jog is the cure-all. it really is. moving fast through the wide, empty vineyard at dusk put a quick end to the despondent pity-party i was having for myself earlier today. endorphins are magical. so is sweat and hard breathing. small successes are what save people- breed resilience and self-reliance, enthusiasm. and now my little one is curled up at my feet, in love with her mama again. :) why i even take a day off from The Jog here and there is beyond me. i've got it in my head that it's dangerous to run every day. i'm pretty sure i'm wrong about that and should just do it anyway. it's just too good to me, too good for me. and now, at the end of the day, i'm finally in the mood to paint. ha! i think i'll have to settle for a night of crocheting.
Nov 9, 2008
sweat...
day 2 of jogging with my dog (which is totally wonderful for the both of us)! i used to be quite the dedicated little runner but one degree and 2 slipped disks later, i've sort of fallen of the wagon. but damn it feels good to be back at it! i was initially pretty worried that the jarring nature of jogging would send the dreaded (and highly painful) twinge of a potential slipped disk radiating up my spine and down my legs but i had no pain whatsoever and pretty minimal stiffness this morning from yesterday's jog. i think i'm in the clear! YAY! it's something that i've really missed doing. in the past, jogging really helped clear my mind, relieve stress, and gave me great sleep in edition to making me pretty buff. and i'm gung-ho about sticking with it now that my schedule is wide open. while i was in school (and working full-time), my health wasn't exactly a priority. i just didn't have the time for it - at least not in any kind of regular, meaningful way. i worked-out sporadically and, although something is better than nothing, it just wasn't all that beneficial. now that i've got the time to take care of myself, i'm going to. and while i was out there jogging today i figured out a few of the issues that are plaguing a certain painting i've got going and haven't been able to resolve. goodness all the way around.
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