You're not as brave as you were at the start.
It's interesting to note what sort of long-term personality changes the last couple of years have left me. One that bothers me a lot is, I can no longer handle anything that's sad. My average mood may be far higher than it was six months or a year ago, but I still have the thinnest skin for anything sad.
Jen wanted to watch this documentary called Life in a Day. I vaguely remember hearing about it last year. National Geographic, which was involved in its production, posted about it in their RSS feed I used to follow from my old journal. Amateur filmmakers and everyday people were invited to film anything that happened on July 24, 2010. I think I briefly considered taking part, but who even knows what was going on in my life that day. (I refreshed my memory at my old journal just now. That day I posted something depressingly prescient about where things were going with C. Welp. The things I put myself through for historical accuracy.)
Anyway. I'd forgotten all about the project until Jen started watching the documentary. I was interested and wondered what kind of cool stuff people filmed. Instead... so much of the film was depressing. People dying, children paying respects to dead mothers, violence, couples fighting, families splintering, an entire montage of people crying. And it all hit me hard. I stuck it out until the end, somehow, but it was rough.
At the end, when some twentysomething white girl was crying and having an existential crisis in her car because nothing interesting happened in her day, I almost felt sick. After all that tragedy and hard shit, the final scene of your documentary is first world problems? Bleh. Tasteless.
Speaking of existential crises and first world problems... I've been feeling gloomy and dispirited because there's so much I want to see and do in this world, and I'm too out of shape and too poor to do any of it. Adding to my ever-growing lifetime list of Awesome Things, I now want to hike the Janapar Trail through Karabakh, and go canyoning in Australia's Blue Mountains...
I don't care how fat I am, so long as I'm physically fit enough to hike 10-15 miles a day indefinitely with my supplies on my back, or to go rock climbing and rappelling down canyon sides. I feel motivated to strengthen myself and improve my cardiovascular fitness. But I can't afford a gym membership right now. I can't run, can't afford a bike. I do a few push-ups and sit-ups whenever I remember to do them (which is not often), but practically every other exercise I learned in the army is too hard to do in my current state.
I guess I need to make a point of doing what I can do, and then hopefully by the end of January we can spare some money for my gym membership. I can go super early in the morning, or more likely at night while Jen's putting Jonny to bed. I can work myself up to an hour a day, perhaps, and see where that takes me in a year or two. It's so easy to slip down from being fit. It's a long hard climb back to that point.
Jen wanted to watch this documentary called Life in a Day. I vaguely remember hearing about it last year. National Geographic, which was involved in its production, posted about it in their RSS feed I used to follow from my old journal. Amateur filmmakers and everyday people were invited to film anything that happened on July 24, 2010. I think I briefly considered taking part, but who even knows what was going on in my life that day. (I refreshed my memory at my old journal just now. That day I posted something depressingly prescient about where things were going with C. Welp. The things I put myself through for historical accuracy.)
Anyway. I'd forgotten all about the project until Jen started watching the documentary. I was interested and wondered what kind of cool stuff people filmed. Instead... so much of the film was depressing. People dying, children paying respects to dead mothers, violence, couples fighting, families splintering, an entire montage of people crying. And it all hit me hard. I stuck it out until the end, somehow, but it was rough.
At the end, when some twentysomething white girl was crying and having an existential crisis in her car because nothing interesting happened in her day, I almost felt sick. After all that tragedy and hard shit, the final scene of your documentary is first world problems? Bleh. Tasteless.
Speaking of existential crises and first world problems... I've been feeling gloomy and dispirited because there's so much I want to see and do in this world, and I'm too out of shape and too poor to do any of it. Adding to my ever-growing lifetime list of Awesome Things, I now want to hike the Janapar Trail through Karabakh, and go canyoning in Australia's Blue Mountains...
I don't care how fat I am, so long as I'm physically fit enough to hike 10-15 miles a day indefinitely with my supplies on my back, or to go rock climbing and rappelling down canyon sides. I feel motivated to strengthen myself and improve my cardiovascular fitness. But I can't afford a gym membership right now. I can't run, can't afford a bike. I do a few push-ups and sit-ups whenever I remember to do them (which is not often), but practically every other exercise I learned in the army is too hard to do in my current state.
I guess I need to make a point of doing what I can do, and then hopefully by the end of January we can spare some money for my gym membership. I can go super early in the morning, or more likely at night while Jen's putting Jonny to bed. I can work myself up to an hour a day, perhaps, and see where that takes me in a year or two. It's so easy to slip down from being fit. It's a long hard climb back to that point.