30 April 2002
I realized this morning that I hadn't done any entry for the Random Acts of Journaling
collab, so I went to the page and checked the prompts. I decided to work on this one:
Sit quietly wherever you usually do your entries. Don't try to clear your mind, and
don't time yourself. Write about whatever pops into your mind first.
The first sentence is already part of writing about whatever pops into my mind. It's
difficult to "sit quietly" in this office because I always have the television
on when I'm working at the computer.
The red light is blinking on the caller ID. Did someone call when I was at the club?
No--still the same intro for the last caller, which was a sales call.."wireless
caller." Oh. No. That's not the sales call. That's the psychiatrist. He called last
night to arrange to have a rush job done. Just what I needed. I'm drowning in partially
transcribed tapes, putting aside the one I am working on to start the one with the more
pressing deadline. There are now four partially transcribed tapes stacked in front of me
and another two sitting in envelopes at my side.
The psychologist is going to be calling today to find out if his have gone out. Gleep.
Must type. Must type. Must type. Why am I sitting here doing this silly exercise when
there is so much to do?
My knees are wet. I got up this morning and did not want to take my bike to the
club, but when I stepped outside, the weather was "clement" enough that I
couldn't justify driving, so I rode. Good choice. I was all awake when I got there and did
a good hour workout. Then I decided to ride home through the greenbelt--about 3 miles the
way I go. It began to rain as I was riding, so I was peeking through rain-splattered
glasses. If I'd remembered the visor for my Darth Vader helmet, maybe it would have kept
some of the rain off.
I spent the whole ride focused on the upcoming overpass. When it loomed into view, I
revved the bike up to 15 mph and raced for the entry, but as I got there and began the
incline, I knew my knees just weren't going to cooperate today, so I took the side road
instead and went the flat way. Probably just as well. Tomorrow is...another day.
This reminds me of the time I tried to do "An Artist's Way," where you're
supposed to sit and just write (as with a pen) for 20 minutes first thing in a morning.
Only I just can't write things. I can type anything (which makes taking notes on
the run a bit awkward!). But this free flow of thoughts is like verbal diarrhea and I
doubt that it is very interesting.
The Today Show has just announced that they are doing a segment on Johnny Carson
and what he's been doing since his retirement. Boy, there's someone who just totally
disappeared off the face of the earth when he left The Tonight Show. I don't
remember even seeing a single picture of him since his retirement. I look forward to
seeing this upcoming segment.
My butt is sore. One thing I've discovered about bike riding is that my derriere is not
exactly suited to a bike seat--not even the big ol' padded fat lady seats that we bought.
It's not a bad pain, but ever since the first long ride (the 12 mile ride with Haggie), I
have been very aware of my butt when I sit down. Terri tells me that bike shorts will
help. I never realized that bike shorts came with all sorts of padding (just what my butt
needs--more padding!) and chamois material (presumably to soak up the sweat I'm supposed
to be working up). Looking at bike shorts is a whole new world. Heck, shorts is a
whole new world. But have you a clue how much cheap bike shorts cost? Something
like $80. I think I'm going to have to get a bit more serious about biking before I can
justify $80. So my butt will just have to hurt for awhile longer.
The psychiatrist was arriving, on his own bike, as I was returning from the club this
morning. He hasn't seen me in months (our exchange of work takes place in a box outside my
house...he drops off and picks up there and we only talk on the phone). He looked somewhat
surprised. "Have you been losing weight?" he asked. Nice to be noticed.
I wonder what exercises like this show about a person. In my case, not a heck of a lot,
I suspect. I've reached the point where I have to work at finding something to free
associate, so I think that is an indication that I have come to the end of this entry.
And apologies to anybody who actually read it. I suppose part of the exercise is just
throwing it out there without editing or anything, so I'm not even going to go back and
edit for content. This was the jumble of my brain post-bike ride, post-breakfast, and
pre-work. Take it or leave it.