A day of DETERMINATION and one of FAILURE
Saturday I did ALL THE THINGS. Well, almost all. I set out to do a proper bathroom workout before going to the gym, but this did not happen as urgh ugh no no and also uh... 
abbichicken also told me not to do crunches and um. Fine. I am concentrating on running at the moment.
BUT APART FROM THAT, HERE IS WHAT I DID:
+ 20 minute cycle of 90 sec brisk walking to 90 sec running, plus five minutes of cooldown waaaaalk.
+ 25 minutes "spinning" or "RIDING A PRETEND BIKE".
+ Final formatting run-through of Sussicran, found a proof-reader.
+ More writing on Marika and Muffy's birthday thing.
+ Editing more of Heavy (the penultimate chapter). This was split into sections because that chapter is ass-long; I did some on the tube on the way to meet Chris, some while sitting around in TCR station entrance before my leg got annoyed with the cold, and some in Starbucks while waiting for Chris (some after meeting Chris).
+ Met up with Chris to collect his defunct/abandoned iPod Classic since mine ate dirt and died; he spent last night checking to see if the battery issue he had with it was as bad as he'd thought and we have a temporary work-around. (Now I just need to get Linds to sharepod the fucking music off one iPod and onto another. Assuming that's even possible with the connection being as spotty as it is). Also to talk aggressively quickly about the end of the world (this is standard conversational fare now, does that bother anyone else?), analogue music editing issues, and old episodes of Dr Who.
+ Went to ScandiKitchen to pick up more Kalles, managed to restrain myself from going too nuts in the grocery section (this was convenient for reasons that will become clear), stayed in the cafe until closing editing my chapter. Have about 400g of penny-sized pepperkakor nuts. AMAZING.
+ Hit a pub I've not been to in a while (the location, in case anyone cares, of the pub scene from that Knight's Tale heist fic I wrote for Yuletide approximately a million years ago), to do V drinks because why not. Didn't actually spend much time talking to the American we'd come out to celebrate the birthday of, but did talk for a long time to Ade about our respective positions on addiction treatment (this is his area), text-based interaction with patients/clients, and life-expectancy and why both of us are desperately hoping we do not live as long as our grandparents; to Alex about why Supernatural is a terrible, terrible show and how Henry the Eighth needed a wizard (this devolved into a weird extended bit about installing wives on a computer), also about how Veg Bar in Brixton are SHITTY SHITS WHO WERE SHITTY AND TRANSPHOBIC TO MY FRIEND AND NO ONE SHOULD EVER GO THERE EVER AGAIN; and to Jamie about book industry trends and how everyone is earning less and less money currently even before the exchange rate is taken into account. Also found Nathan was going to the George Michael tribute night at Duckie that I'd been trying to bully people into attending.
+ At this point I realised I was neither dressed for it not prepared, what with having groceries and editing in my backpack, and then I said Fuck It and went anyway (Nathan: I've known you for thirteen years and I don't think we've ever spent any time together. How am I going to explain you to my friends?)
+ At Duckie:
* Nathan's friend Chris was dressed as Kinky Cop George Michael
* A man came on stage dressed in a fucking cartoon lion outfit and had a dialogue with himself as the man the lion had eaten but also the lion, which involved the two falling in love, doing a weird synchronised waltz with the entire audience, a conceptual cow glove-puppet bursting out of the lion's middle, and then the man being pooped out of the lion costume and inviting an audience member into the lion-costume to ask questions about her poo. Which she duly did. ("Why do some days you love me and some days you hate me?" / "Well it is like any relationship. There are ups and downs, like some days I hate my boyfriend and other days I don't hate him." // "Why can't you be a prettier colour, like pink?" / "Well for me to be pink you either have to eat lots of beetroot, or have internal bleeding."). So that, that was a think that happened. Someone heckled him and Amy Lamé came out afterward and put the fear of God into them.
* A heartfelt eulogy to George Michael which I didn't much enjoy because sincerity makes me ill.
* A LOT OF EIGHTIES MUSIC. Nathan is fun to dance with even if he did spend all night trying to make me drink (I am not drinking currently; instead I consumed so much diet pepsi that I spent all night on the verge of a heart-attack, but this was overall better as I did not become maudlin and sulky and don't have a hangover).
* A bear a full foot taller than me hugged me.
* I got fed up with being knocked backward and forward and generally ignored/judged (I am very much Not what people are after in that place, being Not Scruffy and incapable of growing a beard or decent body hair, and having no real affinity with plaid) and got onto the stage to dance with the other useless ageing twinks, who are overall much more welcoming and pleasant.
* A man in the queue for the cloakroom reached behind him to squeeze my dick which, for a number of reasons, is a pretty shoddy form of validation. It smacks of last-minute desperation and "well I suppose you'll do".
Over the course of Saturday I burned 1300+ plus calories over BMR, and consumed just under 1200 calories which may explain why I felt like rinsed death. Jess got back from her Saturday night shortly after me so I got to pretend (badly and unconvincingly) to be TERRIBLY OFFENDED. Also that Saturday, in contravention to most of my normal socialising (since all my close/regular friends are women) I think I pretty much exclusively interacted with men, weirdly? That has not happened for a very long time.
SUNDAY: The day of FAILURE. I mean, I successfully maxed out my Fitbit on the way home at 2.30am. But I'd intended to work out and then go to the gym and instead what happened was I ummed and ahhed, was forced into the gym by Lindsay and Alice coming to go to the gym and asking if I wanted to join them, then after a moderately bearable run (my knee started to hurt at the end) I was dead and could only manage 10 minutes of cycling. Came back and schlubbed and procrastinated until I felt up to doing some press-ups, had a million-year-shower to make up for two separate bouts of sweating into my eyes, and have now:
FINISHED the first editing pass of Heavy (I am emotionally compromised!)
FINISHED the first draft of the fucking... what was it called, THE RITES OF THE RISEN SUN GOD, 3RD CENTURY and am now seeking a proofer
SENT the penultimate draft of Sussicran off to a volunteer proof-reader.
Tomorrow there's a tube strike so it's a bus to work and also eehhhhhehhhhhhh someone validate my decision not to go back through Heavy immediately and instead take some more time brainstorming The Tourist's Guide (also like... reading the second half of Secret History?)
abbichicken also told me not to do crunches and um. Fine. I am concentrating on running at the moment.
BUT APART FROM THAT, HERE IS WHAT I DID:
+ 20 minute cycle of 90 sec brisk walking to 90 sec running, plus five minutes of cooldown waaaaalk.
+ 25 minutes "spinning" or "RIDING A PRETEND BIKE".
+ Final formatting run-through of Sussicran, found a proof-reader.
+ More writing on Marika and Muffy's birthday thing.
+ Editing more of Heavy (the penultimate chapter). This was split into sections because that chapter is ass-long; I did some on the tube on the way to meet Chris, some while sitting around in TCR station entrance before my leg got annoyed with the cold, and some in Starbucks while waiting for Chris (some after meeting Chris).
+ Met up with Chris to collect his defunct/abandoned iPod Classic since mine ate dirt and died; he spent last night checking to see if the battery issue he had with it was as bad as he'd thought and we have a temporary work-around. (Now I just need to get Linds to sharepod the fucking music off one iPod and onto another. Assuming that's even possible with the connection being as spotty as it is). Also to talk aggressively quickly about the end of the world (this is standard conversational fare now, does that bother anyone else?), analogue music editing issues, and old episodes of Dr Who.
+ Went to ScandiKitchen to pick up more Kalles, managed to restrain myself from going too nuts in the grocery section (this was convenient for reasons that will become clear), stayed in the cafe until closing editing my chapter. Have about 400g of penny-sized pepperkakor nuts. AMAZING.
+ Hit a pub I've not been to in a while (the location, in case anyone cares, of the pub scene from that Knight's Tale heist fic I wrote for Yuletide approximately a million years ago), to do V drinks because why not. Didn't actually spend much time talking to the American we'd come out to celebrate the birthday of, but did talk for a long time to Ade about our respective positions on addiction treatment (this is his area), text-based interaction with patients/clients, and life-expectancy and why both of us are desperately hoping we do not live as long as our grandparents; to Alex about why Supernatural is a terrible, terrible show and how Henry the Eighth needed a wizard (this devolved into a weird extended bit about installing wives on a computer), also about how Veg Bar in Brixton are SHITTY SHITS WHO WERE SHITTY AND TRANSPHOBIC TO MY FRIEND AND NO ONE SHOULD EVER GO THERE EVER AGAIN; and to Jamie about book industry trends and how everyone is earning less and less money currently even before the exchange rate is taken into account. Also found Nathan was going to the George Michael tribute night at Duckie that I'd been trying to bully people into attending.
+ At this point I realised I was neither dressed for it not prepared, what with having groceries and editing in my backpack, and then I said Fuck It and went anyway (Nathan: I've known you for thirteen years and I don't think we've ever spent any time together. How am I going to explain you to my friends?)
+ At Duckie:
* Nathan's friend Chris was dressed as Kinky Cop George Michael
* A man came on stage dressed in a fucking cartoon lion outfit and had a dialogue with himself as the man the lion had eaten but also the lion, which involved the two falling in love, doing a weird synchronised waltz with the entire audience, a conceptual cow glove-puppet bursting out of the lion's middle, and then the man being pooped out of the lion costume and inviting an audience member into the lion-costume to ask questions about her poo. Which she duly did. ("Why do some days you love me and some days you hate me?" / "Well it is like any relationship. There are ups and downs, like some days I hate my boyfriend and other days I don't hate him." // "Why can't you be a prettier colour, like pink?" / "Well for me to be pink you either have to eat lots of beetroot, or have internal bleeding."). So that, that was a think that happened. Someone heckled him and Amy Lamé came out afterward and put the fear of God into them.
* A heartfelt eulogy to George Michael which I didn't much enjoy because sincerity makes me ill.
* A LOT OF EIGHTIES MUSIC. Nathan is fun to dance with even if he did spend all night trying to make me drink (I am not drinking currently; instead I consumed so much diet pepsi that I spent all night on the verge of a heart-attack, but this was overall better as I did not become maudlin and sulky and don't have a hangover).
* A bear a full foot taller than me hugged me.
* I got fed up with being knocked backward and forward and generally ignored/judged (I am very much Not what people are after in that place, being Not Scruffy and incapable of growing a beard or decent body hair, and having no real affinity with plaid) and got onto the stage to dance with the other useless ageing twinks, who are overall much more welcoming and pleasant.
* A man in the queue for the cloakroom reached behind him to squeeze my dick which, for a number of reasons, is a pretty shoddy form of validation. It smacks of last-minute desperation and "well I suppose you'll do".
Over the course of Saturday I burned 1300+ plus calories over BMR, and consumed just under 1200 calories which may explain why I felt like rinsed death. Jess got back from her Saturday night shortly after me so I got to pretend (badly and unconvincingly) to be TERRIBLY OFFENDED. Also that Saturday, in contravention to most of my normal socialising (since all my close/regular friends are women) I think I pretty much exclusively interacted with men, weirdly? That has not happened for a very long time.
SUNDAY: The day of FAILURE. I mean, I successfully maxed out my Fitbit on the way home at 2.30am. But I'd intended to work out and then go to the gym and instead what happened was I ummed and ahhed, was forced into the gym by Lindsay and Alice coming to go to the gym and asking if I wanted to join them, then after a moderately bearable run (my knee started to hurt at the end) I was dead and could only manage 10 minutes of cycling. Came back and schlubbed and procrastinated until I felt up to doing some press-ups, had a million-year-shower to make up for two separate bouts of sweating into my eyes, and have now:
FINISHED the first editing pass of Heavy (I am emotionally compromised!)
FINISHED the first draft of the fucking... what was it called, THE RITES OF THE RISEN SUN GOD, 3RD CENTURY and am now seeking a proofer
SENT the penultimate draft of Sussicran off to a volunteer proof-reader.
Tomorrow there's a tube strike so it's a bus to work and also eehhhhhehhhhhhh someone validate my decision not to go back through Heavy immediately and instead take some more time brainstorming The Tourist's Guide (also like... reading the second half of Secret History?)