“They have one of those in the back.” Most gyms have rowing machines. It’s just they’re hidden in plain sight because they’re not glamorous devices. Running is sexy. Rowing is… not. One treadmiller had rested his backpack on the sole rower at this one gym, and when I motioned that I wanted to use it, while courteous, he seemed surprised that someone was going to use it. See, I don’t like rowing being my secret.
Just as dehydration wilts a flower, complaining wilts a conversation. Maybe faster? We might complain to express displeasure aspects of a current situation. It’s alright if you’re looking for possible solution. If not, if you’re just looking to spread negativity and hatred, get out! Just get your mind straight! Complaining is oppressive, disrespectful, yet with accepting any little help, you could start fixing it. It’s terrible being on the receiving end of complaining without acting.
“The poor guy.”
The park was lively, except for the grim area the two women were approaching. “Yeah, it’s still a shocker two months later. What a pillar to the community. It’s too bad they weren’t able to clean up all the blood. How long were they trying? At least a couple weeks?” They arrived at the tree. The nearby concrete was still stained with blood.
A sudden rattling.
“They can’t clean up my blood!”
This scene popped in my head, almost fully realized. Small glimpses into “The Story” frequently say hello, moments where Trishna (left) might interact with someone or I might wonder how she or John (not pictured) might overcome certain situations, yet rarely are these daydream moments so powerful as this scene was on Tuesday. Let’s explore one of the more foundational moments of The Story: a conversation between Trishna and her parents, Divit (middle) and Brigit.
Spoiler Warning Scale: Minor (building a crucial pre-narrative beginning scene)
WANNA READ A ROUGH DRAFT OF HOW THIS SCENE MIGHT PLAY OUT? CLICK HERE TO KEEP ON READING!
“Don’t burn out again on binging.” My ideal days are spent holed up at home. I might row or clean, otherwise, I’m the most content at my computer the whole day. Years ago, I’d indulge a little throughout the day, and find myself numb by the end of the day, having accomplished nothing. In this first of an occasional series, written during those days, let’s dig into this in more detail. Hi, I’m an addict.
When will I throw out my favorite hoodie? It will take over 2 hours to sew its disintegrating seams. My concert hoodie could replace it, or I could find another. I have too many positive memories wearing it to destroy it. So will I keep repairing it until there’s nothing left? Is there a definitive point when we should destroy the things that served us before in favor of things that could serve us more efficiently?
“The only difference between something being difficult and easy is a page of instructions.” There are restrictions to that, certainly. If I wanted to learn Tagalog, I would need more than a page of instructions, and it would certainly take more time than what is implied with a page of instructions. However, I think in general, having an instructional foundation is an important first step, especially if you feel insecure about a topic you’re learning.
It starts small. I’ve been eating more and exercising less. I started including a second scoop of peanut butter in my oatmeal, so now I have a one scoop limit. I’m planning to row for longer sets again. I’ve been ordering the healthier items on menus, and now intend to be more picky with removing the unhealthier bits; I didn’t eat the mayo-drenched shredded lettuce and bun on a fish sandwich this evening, for example.
I’m coupling my Weekly Rowing column with workspace infrastructure updates. My primary focus will be improving my “judgement free zone” office I’m calling “Zeal,” because just like how exercise improves your internal motivation and physicality, tidy workspaces improve your external motivation and productivity. Clutter in body, mind, or space can prevent action, so let’s start with the heartbeat of this whole operation: my whiteboard. “Always on,” it’s a constant reminder to check the next box.
“Ahhh!” The alarm sounded just before the killer struck. “Oops! Forgot to take out the trash. Better get to it now. I’ll run out of time again in the morning…” She paused the movie on a disturbing still, dragged the trash can to the door, put on a heavy coat and boots, placed her keys and mace in her right coat pocket, grabbed the trash bag with her left hand, and left her comfortable apartment.