Body Talk

I suited up in my rapier armor for the first time in a very long time. It took a great deal of effort. A full time desk job has taken a huge toll on my body. I fit in want ever exercise I can, when I can. Sometimes. We had started P90-X, stuck with it for 3 straight weeks and I was starting to feel and see results, not only in how I looked, but in how powerful and in control of my own body I felt. It was easy to stop and hard to start again for one simple reason.
I hate all exercise videos. Using one is an unequal compromise. Videos (and gyms, for that matter) can't help me. Self image is the same as faith- the intent determines the outcome. It taints or tints it.
When I put in a video, there is no real goal to me. The movements feel purposeless. I focus on feel the burn and pain. I feel compared and unsuccessful. At the end of it, I have gone no where. My scenery hasn't changed. My body is tainted with the feeling that I have wasted my time. I can not perceive that I have actually done anything. And my efforts at fitness are only marginally successful.
When I ride my bike, I focus on reaching and pushing- make it to the top despite the burn and the pain. I have a tangible goal to focus on. When I climb up a boulder, or a waterfall, when I hit the target 10 times in a row, when I set out and I get there, achievement tints my self image. The body that follows shows that. I had always maintained that a muscles made from baling hay were far more sexy than the ones from a gym. The goal tints them. Makes them shine.
I am not a body builder. I know for some the reps and quantity are the goal. It plain old isn't so with me.
Climb every mountain
Swim every sea
I have conflict because my full time job means precious little time with family and even less to do things like mow the lawn. It is hard to walk away from my moments with them. There has got to be a way for a mom to find balance. And be forgiven for doing so.

just the obvious

Almost every faith believes it is the best. I have run into many people who near taunting brag has been "You would be better off if you had my faith." I was belittled and hurt by the paraphrases of this statement. Then I looked at the words floating behind my eyes and took the tone, the emotion- mine and theirs- away and read the words "...if you had faith like mine...". I moved the importance and emphasis around and edited like a mad woman those overused prepositional phrases. If you had faith -
Serendipity was right :-)

The Apartment

"Get Back to" is no longer an acceptable goal- continue is my second magic word-
The Feminine Voice Dare is continuing

Homes of scholars rarely have more than one bedroom. If a scholar sleeps in a bed, company is even more rare, with the exception of a lover who will go down on you while you read poetry. Especially John Donne. These lovers are never forgotten.
Scholars congregated in the Row. Coffee houses and Chinese take out were a stumble away for bleary eyed writers who had forgotten to eat or sleep. I had done a ton of shopping to prepare for writing my story. I had been collecting one liners in a little notebook- good lines I would build around on a day like today. Deep breath, hot coffee, and not a thought in my pretty little head. I needed a practice write- a warm up ramble before the nitty gritty. I lounged on the window seat- more an exceptionally deep window sill, about 3 feet wide. The glass is very cold. I'm in a fishbowl looking at scholars scurry for caffeine 3 stories below. A tall, strong, stereotypical square jawed man in camouflage trips on the curb with his eyes on his phone. He is caught by an old, Hispanic drag queen with a bleach blond Cesar cut. I have inspiration for my warm up in the blend- a solider who made tap shoes from grande pins. I hop down and cross the open living room. The whole apartment is one room. Kitchen one wall, windowed wall, sleeping area, library. I had hung old stained windows or sheer silk floor to ceiling the divide and offer privacy. The colored light and rustle from the vents are a kind of meditation while I walk to my desk. I started keying away. The radiator next to me hisses while keeping my coffee slightly warm in the percolator. 750 words, and I need reference material. I head to the shelves and run my finger along the book spines.

"Finding what you need Marnie?" Dexter's voice drifted down. The library wall wasn't just in my room. The shelves started in the basement and layer upon layer, extended up the 6 stories of the building, wall to wall, floor to ceiling. Each apartment's floor stopped 3 feet from the stacks. A scholar stepped onto their platform programed by key words in their writing with their reference needs. Everything any of us would need to know is on this wall somewhere. Platforms hummed by as scholars needed reference material on floors other than their own.
"No Dexter. I'm really not finding it," I tried not to get distracted be inviting titles.
"What're you after?" Dexter bent down and turned his head to look at me.
"I'm not even sure. I'll know it when I see it."
"You always say that." Dexter smiled at me and dropped down the cookie in his other hand. "You know where to find me."
"No poetry today Dex?" I pulled a book on Fred and Ginger off the shelf leafing through for the jargon of tap dancing.
"Naw. Jimmy is being greedy with his horse training books. I can't get to his stacks."
"Damn it!"
"It's not just you it seems. Sounds like Jimmy won't let anyone down there, Dex,"
"Prick. I have some mac-n-cheese in the oven right now. I'll have my reference books on a hour or two. Then, Marnie, I will be king." Dexter flourished his bathrobe and made a face.
I laughed and waved him away while I sat back down to write.