Last night, after the luxury of four days of rest, Miss Fitness, your servant, went for her usual Tuesday night: one hour aerobics followed by one hour spinning. The first class can be demanding but it's not exactly hard. I can usually breeze through it with my eyes closed and thinking about my income tax. Although I do try not to think about my income tax when I work out, because it sorts of defeats the purpose doesn't it? Where was I?
Ok, last night. About 30-35 minutes into the first not-very-hard class, after that long rest, my body suddenly groans: "That's it, no more, I'm spent, I'm done!"
"WHAT? You've got to be kidding me!" I say, with great presence of mind.
"Raaaaaahhhhh…" moans the body.
I can feel it: no more breath, no more energy, I'm running on below empty, as suddenly as hitting a wall.
Well, shit. I go and have a drink, to put a little fluid and sugar in me, wondering if and how I'm going to be able to finish the class. Around me, everybody is happily dancing along. Stupefaction and pride kick in, (ah, pride!) and I clench my teeth and mentally draw the curtains. That means I focus on "keep going", stare at the floor and no longer make eye contact or smile or appear alive, which earns me several puzzled looks from the instructor who can't understand what's going on with me. Well I can't either.
I finish the class, thankful for the abs and cool down. I walk upstairs to the spinning room and I stand there by my bike: my legs are shaking helplessly for about ten minutes. Thankfully, I have a fifteen minutes pause between the two classes. I hold my own in spinning, exhausted yes, but not feeling that wall slamming into me again. My white shirt is by then so completely soaked that it is absolutely sheer. Interesting.
So there you have it. Of course, I'm trying to find out what happened but there are so many variables that it's very difficult to pinpoint. You'll just understand why, next time someone talks about my being in shape, I might start laughing.
Vince, jog on the mountain huh?
Jëno…just…don't.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Monday, February 26, 2007
To Be or Not To Be
That's just like me, I don't write for ever, then you can't shut me up.
I don't know anybody who has ever seen Peter Weir's Gallipoli. The film is somewhat unremarkable except for the last ten minutes, which are unforgettable. And the last shot is heartwrenching. A masterly piece of film. A propos of nothing.
Talking of masterpieces, I'm reading T.E. Lawrence's "Seven Pillars of Wisdom" but it does very little for me so far.
I learned today that I was no longer considered for the role of Master of Ceremony for the conference I'm helping organize. That I was not, in fact, really expected to attend at all. Don't get me wrong, this wouldn't be the result of a demotion but the result of my qualifying on a competition.
Never have I been less enthusiastic about qualifying on a competition which is perhaps why my interlocutor got such a blank look. Perhaps was I a little melancholy at being disposed of so promptly.
But that's ok, nothing is permanent except change. Change is good. Change is the opportunity you make it to be. If change is indeed in my immediate future, I might as well have fun with it.
So I took a deep breath and I started laughing softly at how long and hard I had thought before accepting the position of MC...only to have the offer rescinded two weeks later. Heh.
I don't know anybody who has ever seen Peter Weir's Gallipoli. The film is somewhat unremarkable except for the last ten minutes, which are unforgettable. And the last shot is heartwrenching. A masterly piece of film. A propos of nothing.
Talking of masterpieces, I'm reading T.E. Lawrence's "Seven Pillars of Wisdom" but it does very little for me so far.
I learned today that I was no longer considered for the role of Master of Ceremony for the conference I'm helping organize. That I was not, in fact, really expected to attend at all. Don't get me wrong, this wouldn't be the result of a demotion but the result of my qualifying on a competition.
Never have I been less enthusiastic about qualifying on a competition which is perhaps why my interlocutor got such a blank look. Perhaps was I a little melancholy at being disposed of so promptly.
But that's ok, nothing is permanent except change. Change is good. Change is the opportunity you make it to be. If change is indeed in my immediate future, I might as well have fun with it.
So I took a deep breath and I started laughing softly at how long and hard I had thought before accepting the position of MC...only to have the offer rescinded two weeks later. Heh.
L'eucalyptus
Once upon a time, there was a little town drenched with sunshine. The trees grew tall and luxurious, fragrant flowers were in abundance. Every morning, at dawn, a rooster sang in a garden across the street. The town was bordered by the bluest sea in the world and high mountains lined the horizon on clear days.
The little girl went to a small all-girl primary school. She loved it passionately, because it took her away from the chaos of home. This was her world only, and in her world, she was a gifted student, the teacher’s pet, never lacked friends, learned with inextinguishable eagerness.
When she was eight or nine years old, her best friend was called MC. They were friends for less than a year, before circumstances separated them. Then the little girl went to high school, changed country, changed continent, became a big girl, and still kept drifting all over the place. The memory of MC, of her small school, of the small town drenched in sunshine became so distant it felt like another lifetime. She didn't think this past would ever manifest itself again other than in her mind and her dreams.
When this man called me last week, I thought it was a call from the past. I was mistaken; it was nothing but a rehearsal.
Thursday night came my true call from the past. With no warning whatsoever, MC called me from France. I don't know how she tracked me down. We had never kept in touch. How stunned I was can perhaps only be understood by my brother.
"This is another lifetime calling. Another world. Another dimension: the past."
We talked for about fifteen minutes. She hinted at very dark things in her life and I didn't pry: there would be time for it yet.
I had been someone very special in her life, back then, and she had never forgotten me. In a few simple words, she told me what I represented for her, why I had such an impact, and I was touched and moved but still dumbstruck.
We ended on promises of snail mail, for she doesn't have an email, to catch up with basically what is almost all our lives. I haven't started my letter yet. I'm still struggling to update my Weltanschauung.
The little girl went to a small all-girl primary school. She loved it passionately, because it took her away from the chaos of home. This was her world only, and in her world, she was a gifted student, the teacher’s pet, never lacked friends, learned with inextinguishable eagerness.
When she was eight or nine years old, her best friend was called MC. They were friends for less than a year, before circumstances separated them. Then the little girl went to high school, changed country, changed continent, became a big girl, and still kept drifting all over the place. The memory of MC, of her small school, of the small town drenched in sunshine became so distant it felt like another lifetime. She didn't think this past would ever manifest itself again other than in her mind and her dreams.
When this man called me last week, I thought it was a call from the past. I was mistaken; it was nothing but a rehearsal.
Thursday night came my true call from the past. With no warning whatsoever, MC called me from France. I don't know how she tracked me down. We had never kept in touch. How stunned I was can perhaps only be understood by my brother.
"This is another lifetime calling. Another world. Another dimension: the past."
We talked for about fifteen minutes. She hinted at very dark things in her life and I didn't pry: there would be time for it yet.
I had been someone very special in her life, back then, and she had never forgotten me. In a few simple words, she told me what I represented for her, why I had such an impact, and I was touched and moved but still dumbstruck.
We ended on promises of snail mail, for she doesn't have an email, to catch up with basically what is almost all our lives. I haven't started my letter yet. I'm still struggling to update my Weltanschauung.
Don't Fear The Reaper
When my bad dream turned into a nightmare, I started yelling, at the top of my voice, pausing only to get a new lungful of air.
Back when I was married, my screams sometimes translated into actual whimpers that would wake the hubby, who would in turn mercifully wake me. One inconvenience of being single is that I have no one to wake me.
The terror increased and I let out a shriek so desperate that I actually woke up. I blinked in the darkness, wondering if I had screamed out loud. A door opened and closed and a dark shape peered hesitantly into my room.
"Hey, what's up?" I said, my heart still beating wildly, covered in sweat. My son ran to my bed and slipped beside me.
"I just wanted to see why you were singing," he said. I thought that was an odd choice of word.
"Was I singing?"
"Yes." Well, I wasn't in the mood to tell him it was not singing but actually screaming in terror.
"Was I loud?"
"Yes, very loud. You stopped and started again and stopped and started again." He laughed nervously. "I was starting to believe that you were being murdered."
The truth is he was spooked; my "singing" probably didn't sound like fun at all.
He settled tightly against my back.
"Don't you know you were singing?" he asked.
"No. I was dreaming."
A beat.
"What were you dreaming about?"
"It was a nightmare," I said and we both left it at that.
We lied there for about an hour. For once I didn't mind his squirming because his body pressed against mine, his quiet breathing which I felt through his pyjama were the best antidote to the terror I had felt. Eventually, the cats started jumping on his feet, which he didn't like and I whispered to him to go back to his bed, which he did. Within minutes, we were both sound asleep.
I do wish I had someone to wake me up.
Back when I was married, my screams sometimes translated into actual whimpers that would wake the hubby, who would in turn mercifully wake me. One inconvenience of being single is that I have no one to wake me.
The terror increased and I let out a shriek so desperate that I actually woke up. I blinked in the darkness, wondering if I had screamed out loud. A door opened and closed and a dark shape peered hesitantly into my room.
"Hey, what's up?" I said, my heart still beating wildly, covered in sweat. My son ran to my bed and slipped beside me.
"I just wanted to see why you were singing," he said. I thought that was an odd choice of word.
"Was I singing?"
"Yes." Well, I wasn't in the mood to tell him it was not singing but actually screaming in terror.
"Was I loud?"
"Yes, very loud. You stopped and started again and stopped and started again." He laughed nervously. "I was starting to believe that you were being murdered."
The truth is he was spooked; my "singing" probably didn't sound like fun at all.
He settled tightly against my back.
"Don't you know you were singing?" he asked.
"No. I was dreaming."
A beat.
"What were you dreaming about?"
"It was a nightmare," I said and we both left it at that.
We lied there for about an hour. For once I didn't mind his squirming because his body pressed against mine, his quiet breathing which I felt through his pyjama were the best antidote to the terror I had felt. Eventually, the cats started jumping on his feet, which he didn't like and I whispered to him to go back to his bed, which he did. Within minutes, we were both sound asleep.
I do wish I had someone to wake me up.
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Cold
Sometimes you have to make a choice between home and work. On Thursday, partially out of guilt because I don't choose it often enough, I picked home. I was needed there. I was expected at work. I'll pay for it on Monday, I know. I needed to address some things urgently and I did. But I'm not looking forward to my boss's anger, disappointement, coldness or just plain lashing out.
Well, when I made the decision, I agreed to deal with the consequences, unpleasant as they might be.
I've not had a nice weekend.
I've had a weekend filled with anxiety.
I read "The Beach".
I watched "The Guardian".
I gave a present I had so carefully chosen and wrapped.
My son got a haircut.
Loukhi got neutered.
It's not always simple and easy, is it?
Well, when I made the decision, I agreed to deal with the consequences, unpleasant as they might be.
I've not had a nice weekend.
I've had a weekend filled with anxiety.
I read "The Beach".
I watched "The Guardian".
I gave a present I had so carefully chosen and wrapped.
My son got a haircut.
Loukhi got neutered.
It's not always simple and easy, is it?
Cold
Sometimes you have to make a choice between home and work. On Thursday,
partially out of guilt because I don't choose it often enough, I picked
home. I was needed there. I was expected at work. I'll pay for it on Monday,
I know. I needed to address some things urgently and I did. But I'm not
looking forward to my boss's anger, disappointement, coldness or just plain
lashing out.
partially out of guilt because I don't choose it often enough, I picked
home. I was needed there. I was expected at work. I'll pay for it on Monday,
I know. I needed to address some things urgently and I did. But I'm not
looking forward to my boss's anger, disappointement, coldness or just plain
lashing out.
Well, when I made the decision, I agreed to deal with the consequences,
unpleasant as they might be.
I've not had a nice weekend.
I've had a weekend filled with anxiety.
I read "The Beach".
I watched "The Guardian".
I gave a present I had so carefully chosen and wrapped.
My son got a haircut.
Loukhi got neutered.
It's not always simple and easy, is it?
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Hello in Haste
I'm going to lose my entire readership if I keep on neglecting my blog! I've just spent a month in Belleville, Ontario, the last two days. Among all the boring places in the world, I'd say Belleville can hold its head high. Perhaps as a result, our meeting was remarkably productive.
After my bed, it was my fridge's turn to die on me. I bought a new one. I have a shiny, brand new, all white Frigidaire. I know you'll be as thrilled as I am about this exciting piece of news.
(My bank manager keeps calling me. I don't know why because I don't return his calls. Just kidding.)
Work is going well if pretty fast and in several directions. Home is going well, cats and kid are thriving. It's funny how I'm too busy living my life these days to have time writing about it. But don't despair. I'm sure I'll be back soon with new and improved ways of messing up one way or another.
In the meantime, be safe y'all!
After my bed, it was my fridge's turn to die on me. I bought a new one. I have a shiny, brand new, all white Frigidaire. I know you'll be as thrilled as I am about this exciting piece of news.
(My bank manager keeps calling me. I don't know why because I don't return his calls. Just kidding.)
Work is going well if pretty fast and in several directions. Home is going well, cats and kid are thriving. It's funny how I'm too busy living my life these days to have time writing about it. But don't despair. I'm sure I'll be back soon with new and improved ways of messing up one way or another.
In the meantime, be safe y'all!
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
L'horloge
"Souviens-toi que le temps est un joueur avide
Qui gagne sans tricher
A tout coup
C'est la loi"
Beaudelaire
Last night my phone rang and, somewhat tentatively, a voice reached out from the past. I once adored this man. Three years ago, this call would have filled my heart with delirious happiness.
Stunned, I pretended I was glad to hear from him until I could figure out how I truly felt about it. Later on, it all came back, what I had not thought about in years. I was reminded of him, of shared fits of laughter, of harsh, unforgivable words.
What happened since? Time happened. Two years ago, an unrelated event rocked my world and in the smouldering aftermath, I realized this man did not matter in my life. I don't think he can ever matter again. There's no anger or resentment, only indifference. I'm sorry.
Qui gagne sans tricher
A tout coup
C'est la loi"
Beaudelaire
Last night my phone rang and, somewhat tentatively, a voice reached out from the past. I once adored this man. Three years ago, this call would have filled my heart with delirious happiness.
Stunned, I pretended I was glad to hear from him until I could figure out how I truly felt about it. Later on, it all came back, what I had not thought about in years. I was reminded of him, of shared fits of laughter, of harsh, unforgivable words.
What happened since? Time happened. Two years ago, an unrelated event rocked my world and in the smouldering aftermath, I realized this man did not matter in my life. I don't think he can ever matter again. There's no anger or resentment, only indifference. I'm sorry.
Monday, February 12, 2007
Why Ask Why?
I'm so in love with my new mattress set I wanted to put a picture of it on my blog. My friend protested, saying it would be too suggestive. Well, I wasn't going to post a picture of the bed with us in it! I think he's just jealous because he's secretly in love with my new bed too.
I've forgotten how to skate. Apparently, skating is not like riding a bicycle. You do forget. It's been what? Twenty-seven years? So I want to give it a go again but for some reason, I'm not particularly keen on looking like a spread-out-octopus-on-ice (enjoy the image). I don't know why, for I'm usually not overly concerned with saving face. I've no qualms skiing for instance, and I ski badly. But for some reason, I've decided I wanted to find my skate-legs back on my own. It's not easy finding empty rinks. I'm probably going to develop a reputation as a pervert for haunting deserted rinks late at night.
Last week I was confronted to someone who reads my blog faithfully yet displays no interest whatsoever in its author as a person. I thought it was a paradox and like paradoxes typically do, it had me puzzled. Then lightening struck and, peering into the eyes of a miniature black purring cat, I suddenly wondered: "Why ask why?"
I believe this is going to become my mantra, my motto, my resolution for 2007. I'm going to develop a philosophy of taking things exactly as they are, and saving the time and energy to wonder why they are like that. Stop wondering why people behave the way they do. Stop wondering why people do the things they do. Stop wondering why people say or don’t say the things they say or don't say. Stop wondering why things happen that way and no other. Stop wondering why I'm so successful at this and such a disaster at that. Stop wondering why.
Why ask why? My Wondering Neurone has been in overdrive for too long. Can you shut it down Bridge? Can you accept things as they are? Can you let go without dissecting? Can you just let it be? You like personal challenges, girlfriend, here’s a good one for you.
(No worries, I often talk to myself…my psychiatrist says it’s normal. All the people in my head say so too.)
I've forgotten how to skate. Apparently, skating is not like riding a bicycle. You do forget. It's been what? Twenty-seven years? So I want to give it a go again but for some reason, I'm not particularly keen on looking like a spread-out-octopus-on-ice (enjoy the image). I don't know why, for I'm usually not overly concerned with saving face. I've no qualms skiing for instance, and I ski badly. But for some reason, I've decided I wanted to find my skate-legs back on my own. It's not easy finding empty rinks. I'm probably going to develop a reputation as a pervert for haunting deserted rinks late at night.
Last week I was confronted to someone who reads my blog faithfully yet displays no interest whatsoever in its author as a person. I thought it was a paradox and like paradoxes typically do, it had me puzzled. Then lightening struck and, peering into the eyes of a miniature black purring cat, I suddenly wondered: "Why ask why?"
I believe this is going to become my mantra, my motto, my resolution for 2007. I'm going to develop a philosophy of taking things exactly as they are, and saving the time and energy to wonder why they are like that. Stop wondering why people behave the way they do. Stop wondering why people do the things they do. Stop wondering why people say or don’t say the things they say or don't say. Stop wondering why things happen that way and no other. Stop wondering why I'm so successful at this and such a disaster at that. Stop wondering why.
Why ask why? My Wondering Neurone has been in overdrive for too long. Can you shut it down Bridge? Can you accept things as they are? Can you let go without dissecting? Can you just let it be? You like personal challenges, girlfriend, here’s a good one for you.
(No worries, I often talk to myself…my psychiatrist says it’s normal. All the people in my head say so too.)
Thursday, February 08, 2007
All Things Great and Small
Loukhi is growing and thriving. Unfortunately, due no doubt to an early childhood trauma, she can't stand to be picked up. She squirms and claws her way out until you all but drop her. Otherwise, she's friendly and cuddly as can be, and her tiny diesel is a regular vibration against me as I fall asleep.
SYWRD came for a visit. I think I'll never get a chance to get to know him better and I, the girl who doesn't Believe in regrets, will always deeply regret that. My email remained un-acknowledged but that part belongs to him. I will neither argue, insist, nor speculate... but I'll always regret it profondément.
Something wonderful happened to the Terror, a.k.a. the Papou, a.k.a. my son. I had long ago applied to the Big Brothers of Canada program to find him a big brother. The waiting was so long (years) I had all but given up. But suddenly it came through and he's been teamed up with a Big Brother. We met Him for the first time last Monday night and the two seem to hit it off pretty well. Yannick was so keen, and delighted, and eager, and thrilled, and shy, it was pretty heart-wrenching. I hope it will work out for them, I'll do everything in MY power to make it so but I won't be involved much, it's their show.
I've pretty much stopped talking about TLM, first because there isn't that much to tell but also because I realized this was one area I feel private about. Sorry for interrupting the soap, my Southern Chinese readers. Hey, you never know when he might pop back up. Keep the faith.
Finally, I seem to come out of my physical plateau-ing. Improvement is on it's way again. Last night, we were doing abs and while some other girls were groaning in pain and I realized that I myself could have actually gone on for quite a while. What a good feeling! Bring them on!
SYWRD came for a visit. I think I'll never get a chance to get to know him better and I, the girl who doesn't Believe in regrets, will always deeply regret that. My email remained un-acknowledged but that part belongs to him. I will neither argue, insist, nor speculate... but I'll always regret it profondément.
Something wonderful happened to the Terror, a.k.a. the Papou, a.k.a. my son. I had long ago applied to the Big Brothers of Canada program to find him a big brother. The waiting was so long (years) I had all but given up. But suddenly it came through and he's been teamed up with a Big Brother. We met Him for the first time last Monday night and the two seem to hit it off pretty well. Yannick was so keen, and delighted, and eager, and thrilled, and shy, it was pretty heart-wrenching. I hope it will work out for them, I'll do everything in MY power to make it so but I won't be involved much, it's their show.
I've pretty much stopped talking about TLM, first because there isn't that much to tell but also because I realized this was one area I feel private about. Sorry for interrupting the soap, my Southern Chinese readers. Hey, you never know when he might pop back up. Keep the faith.
Finally, I seem to come out of my physical plateau-ing. Improvement is on it's way again. Last night, we were doing abs and while some other girls were groaning in pain and I realized that I myself could have actually gone on for quite a while. What a good feeling! Bring them on!
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Nothing To Declare
A better day than yesterday, although that was not hard to beat!
After burning myself up at the gym, I slept like a baby and my spirits improved greatly.
I've been offered the role of co-Master of Ceremony for the next conference I'm helping organize. It's the kind of personal challenge I will probably not be able to resist, even though my first instinct is to run. Since I'm rather afraid of doing it, it will most likely seal my acceptance. Besides, it will give me something concrete to focus on, because my motivation on this project is under the weather for reasons I cannot expand on.
I feel mischievous, a state which usually results in practical jokes. Somebody tie me up.
Tomorrow, my brand new, super comfortable, luxurious, and hopefully sinful bed will be delivered. Can’t wait to stretch on it and roll over without springs loudly complaining. I bet I’m going to become real popular with the cats for a while! (Of course, I’m kidding. I’m ALWAYS popular with the cats. My head is quite swollen about it.)
Tonight, another three hours of sweating scheduled. Life CAN be good. Thanks for putting a good word in for me Miss C!
After burning myself up at the gym, I slept like a baby and my spirits improved greatly.
I've been offered the role of co-Master of Ceremony for the next conference I'm helping organize. It's the kind of personal challenge I will probably not be able to resist, even though my first instinct is to run. Since I'm rather afraid of doing it, it will most likely seal my acceptance. Besides, it will give me something concrete to focus on, because my motivation on this project is under the weather for reasons I cannot expand on.
I feel mischievous, a state which usually results in practical jokes. Somebody tie me up.
Tomorrow, my brand new, super comfortable, luxurious, and hopefully sinful bed will be delivered. Can’t wait to stretch on it and roll over without springs loudly complaining. I bet I’m going to become real popular with the cats for a while! (Of course, I’m kidding. I’m ALWAYS popular with the cats. My head is quite swollen about it.)
Tonight, another three hours of sweating scheduled. Life CAN be good. Thanks for putting a good word in for me Miss C!
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
And the band played on
Today sucked, just like I feared it would except somewhat worse. Then I got home to find my son screaming at the top of his lungs in an all out fit of temper. I walked straight back out the door.
Workout and spinning. I pushed it. I pushed it until my legs shook, until my vision dimmed, until I was so tired even getting OFF the bike seemed like a lot.
Bath. Dodo.
Workout and spinning. I pushed it. I pushed it until my legs shook, until my vision dimmed, until I was so tired even getting OFF the bike seemed like a lot.
Bath. Dodo.
Monday, February 05, 2007
Sunshine, Cold Air and Happiness
Saturday was a magical day, full of unexpected events. I got up that morning without a clue of what was in store for me. I went to bed that night filled with happiness, the kind that I will store away and savour for weeks to come.
It's hard, when you've been so high, not to sort of crash down afterwards. I hope this week will not be too brutal an awakening. Go on, Life, now's the time to prove me that you won't make me pay an exhorbitant price for every minute of happiness you bestowed on me. Come on, Life, give me a wonderful week and perhaps I'll consider trusting you again.
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