This is so dumb. Blogging is pretty dull when you get right down to it, and if you're playing along, I really do apologize. I imagine reading this is like looking at the photographs from someone else's vacation, only they went somewhere really, really boring. This is me, here's some more me, this is how I felt then, and this is how I feel now, here's learning stuff, here's me writing what I learned down, oh, and here's me on a horse! Look how high I am on my high, high horse! Somebody euthanize me. Is there anything more self-indulgent than an exercise blog? I'm laughing as I write this but I can't believe I contractually bound myself to this shit. Voluntarily, no less.
OK, fuck it. Let's go for it. Let's be interactive.
Hey guys! Guess what I did today that's about as newsworthy as a tweet? Here's a hint: it's old but it never gets old, it's always a good idea at parties, and it happens when the midnight hour is close at hand... Anyone? Anyone? OK, I'll tell you. Today I did what every Michael Jackson fan does at some point in his or her love of sweet, sweet dance tunes. For approximately two hours this morning in the middle of my living room wearing no socks and no shirt, I taught myself how to Thriller.
Why would anyone choose to memorize the choreography to this epic 1980's Halloween classic, you ask? No, you don't ask because that requires absolutely no explanation. Everyone who hasn't learned it themselves wishes they had and if you say you never had any interest at all, you're a terrible liar. Thriller is the shit on every continent, in every language, in every context and occasion from now until the fiery, zombie-dancing apocalypse. It's a given, people. Get with the program.
Given the depressing pattern I'd been slipping into on a typical day of this project (wake up, eat, fart around, eat, wait until the last possible second before I finally list through my workout and trudge through this blog, shower, go to work, eat, come home, sleep), the change of pace was nothing short of rejuvenating. When the long-and-short of your entire day's activities consist only of obligations and procrastination it's bound to make anyone a little emo. The days I don't have work I just sit around all day knockin' ye ol' balls around while contemplating how little I actually do. What should be a thirty minute workout takes two incredibly slow, lazy-ass hours. It's freaking depressing. Sure I finish what I need to get done, but bare minimum is the term, listing through my days in what feels like a living coma.
I've got nothing against relaxing, mind you, and for the most part a low-commitment reality kinda rules. However, I may have actually relaxed myself into anxiety. All I think about all day long is the things I want to do (but am yet to even try) and the things within myself I need to fix before I can do them (laziness being at the top of the list). I focus on all the broken parts of my life until the good stuff breaks down too I end up (ah, that's where the term comes from) breaking down entirely into a wet, sobbing mess, or a giggle fit or--- DEAR GOD, I'M DOING IT AGAIN. This last half a paragraph makes me wanna sterilize myself. I'm pretty sure they make pharmaceutical happiness for this kind of crazy (if only I weren't raised to believe ADD + dyslexia + the occasional stroll down depression lane = "character building").
So hell yeah, today I switched it up a bit. I woke up around 6:45, pounded a protein shake, hit up the weight room with Mary from 7-8:30ish, went back upstairs, drew the blinds, cleared the living room furniture off the dance floor and broke it down. I watched Michael's thirteen-minute 1983 music video first, but also spent some time on crappy wedding versions, sacrilegious modified versions, and the version from 13 Going on 30 (I can't help but enjoy dimples-for-days Jenny Garner). The best youtube tutorial I found is by some British chick named Zoe, should you feel the need. It's broken down into three parts with the original choreo direct from the music video (none of that watered down bullshit), and everything sounds better in an accent (for real though; try reading this blog again with the accent of your choosing and watch how much more entertaining I get).
"Follow your bliss" is a good motto to live by. Imma follow mine every morning til I can thriller in my sleep. After that I'm gonna take "Beat it," "The Way You Make Me Feel," and "Smooth Criminal" all up and down the neighborhood. This the kind of workout I can get excited for.
Don't worry, I'm not quitting 150 days. This project will still occupy a hefty, daily chunk of my time, but I strongly dislike the idea of it becoming my entire life. I think I'll be better off filling in my days with other enjoyable things as well; you know, the small stuff, the little triumphs, the pleasures that only take a minute but can make my entire day. What a novel idea. I'm gonna be a zombie next Halloween. A sexy zombie.
Day 11.
Thanks for reading.
See you tomorrow.
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