February 1st, 2002


The move

I got moved to a different office today. And just about everything is working already. The CD ROM drive isn't recognized and the cable for the printer is not long enough but these are very small things. I was expecting major glitches, given the history here. Oddly, the desk still feels cold to my arms when they rest there. I thought that would change when I got into a warmer office.

(no subject)

All I want to do is go home. I don't feel like I have done much this week but that even makes me more tired. Sometimes it is just hard to be motivated.

No spandex

I went to the gym for the first time today. Signed the contract, got my picture taken, and took a bodyPUMP class. What a kick! I was glad for all the time I have spent lifting weights to FIRM videos. That gave me the confidence and I made it through the class just fine. The moves are not identical, of course, and they use a weight bar instead of dumbbells, so there's some adjustment there, but the standards are the standards. It won't take so long to catch on, I think, and then I'll be able to up the weights. Until I am comfortable with the moves, though, and have a sense of what each sequence does to me, I will stay with lighter weights.

I was dressed in old stretch pants (cotton & polyester, I think) and a T-shirt, and I fit right in. Nobody there was looking to impress. Even the instructor was dressed very casually. The range of ages is fairly wide, too. I was really delighted to be in there with other people, working out with others. It really does make it more fun.

I went to Scolari's after and grabbed a bag of trail mix and an orange. Gotta carb up quicklike after pumping iron, you know.

What a good move, joining the gym. What I needed.


John Cheever died 20 years ago. But for me, he died today. I finished his journals. He was very tired when he made the last entry, obviously done in by the cancer that was eating his bones. He kept writing. He typed his journal even though typing got very difficult too, and the quality of the journal did not diminish. I suspect I would not have liked him a lot if I'd known him but the personal nature of his journal can't help but move anyone, I'd think. I was so affected by it. It was really like knowing him better than, perhaps, his own wife knew him. He didn't make much of an effort to know her, or anyone else, which is why I suspect I might not have liked him much. But maybe I would have anyway. Sometimes I like people a lot because their talents so enrich my life, and because it seems that what makes that talent gives them depth, dimension. I tend to like people who have such depth I will never really know them.