(no subject)
I'm making another resolution. I want to start running. I used to run, 7-8 miles at a time. It's been probably three years now, and running 100 feet will get me winded. It's so depressing, but I'm ready for a new challenge. I really really want to have a personal trainer, but what's the point? If I can harness enough self-discipline, I shouldn't need it. I'm going to start tomorrow morning, with a walk-jog sequence. Jog until I'm winded, walk, jog until I'm winded, walk, etc for at least thrity minutes. I want to get in shape again for the first time in three years. I've also started toning my muscles with free weights. I've never quit Pilates, I've done it 2-3 days/ week for months. And I have the killer abs to prove it (beneath an inch and half of chub). I did well with my resolution to stop eating crap, and I think it's one I'll be able to continue indefinitely.
What else..
The UCA Spring Fling carnival was today. It was gloomy and rainy all day. No waiting time for any of the rides, and most ran with only 2-3 passengers at a time. I always feel so awful at carnivals. They're supposed to be fun and magical-- but I only get depressed. I watch the workers manning the rides, straight faced and wrinkled, puffing cigarettes and grumbling at the bratty kids holding fistfuls of tickets and cotton candy. (I hate spoiled brats-- my kids will not be spoiled, mark my words. Even if it means they will be playing with rocks, I will not allow my children to be brats). It's just depressing. Making funnel cakes 10 hours a day or running a "pop the balloon and get a prize" games. Dirty hair and acid-wash jeans. Toothless and crunchy bangs. Shit man. They were standing in the cold rain for hours without umbrellas. At the end of the day, the kids all got to go home to cozy dormrooms, while the carnival workers pack things up and sleep in their tractor-trailers.
Every year, tickets were sold at school, I think probably $1 apiece. David and I always got 10 tickets apiece-- a laughable number according to some kids. I hated the kids that got 20, 30, 50 tickets. I'm pretty sure this one kid got 100 tickets once. There's no way one kid could ever use 100 tickets. After 10, you're ready to go home anyways. And then there were the kids who didn't get tickets. "Oh, well I'm getting my tickets later," or "I don't like the fair anyways." Heartbreaking, I'm telling you.
I was watching the balloon-art guy do his work. He had a line a mile long and impatient, bratty college students waiting in line. Why even bother getting the balloon art, or caricatures, or wax mold of your hand? It's junk. You'll throw it away in a month. The guy had probably been standing there for three hours, making balloons for these kids when he said, "Excuse me one minute." He quietly excused himself and scooted/hurriedly walked to the bathroom. When everyone saw him walking away, they audibly sighed, "Jeeeeez, I've been waiting forever." "Come on man."
God fucking damn you people, give the man a break.
I hate being around people sometimes.
What else..
The UCA Spring Fling carnival was today. It was gloomy and rainy all day. No waiting time for any of the rides, and most ran with only 2-3 passengers at a time. I always feel so awful at carnivals. They're supposed to be fun and magical-- but I only get depressed. I watch the workers manning the rides, straight faced and wrinkled, puffing cigarettes and grumbling at the bratty kids holding fistfuls of tickets and cotton candy. (I hate spoiled brats-- my kids will not be spoiled, mark my words. Even if it means they will be playing with rocks, I will not allow my children to be brats). It's just depressing. Making funnel cakes 10 hours a day or running a "pop the balloon and get a prize" games. Dirty hair and acid-wash jeans. Toothless and crunchy bangs. Shit man. They were standing in the cold rain for hours without umbrellas. At the end of the day, the kids all got to go home to cozy dormrooms, while the carnival workers pack things up and sleep in their tractor-trailers.
Every year, tickets were sold at school, I think probably $1 apiece. David and I always got 10 tickets apiece-- a laughable number according to some kids. I hated the kids that got 20, 30, 50 tickets. I'm pretty sure this one kid got 100 tickets once. There's no way one kid could ever use 100 tickets. After 10, you're ready to go home anyways. And then there were the kids who didn't get tickets. "Oh, well I'm getting my tickets later," or "I don't like the fair anyways." Heartbreaking, I'm telling you.
I was watching the balloon-art guy do his work. He had a line a mile long and impatient, bratty college students waiting in line. Why even bother getting the balloon art, or caricatures, or wax mold of your hand? It's junk. You'll throw it away in a month. The guy had probably been standing there for three hours, making balloons for these kids when he said, "Excuse me one minute." He quietly excused himself and scooted/hurriedly walked to the bathroom. When everyone saw him walking away, they audibly sighed, "Jeeeeez, I've been waiting forever." "Come on man."
God fucking damn you people, give the man a break.
I hate being around people sometimes.