|Time to get busy. Stop looking over my shoulder.|
Truly, I'm an optimist by nature. I like to see the good in people, to believe that they are wiling to do the things necessary to be well-rounded and happy on their own. I've been disabused of that notion often enough that I shouldn't be anything like optimistic EVER, but I haven't given up yet. Don't know that I ever will.
Lately I've been bemoaning the fact that I've put on too much weight and I don't have the time I once did to exercise. That is, of course, bullshit. It's not that I don't have time, it's that I preferred to spend that time noodling on the 'net instead of writing or getting up and moving around. I always feel a LOT better when I'm doing something that gets my heart rate up: walking or cleaning or pulling my fat ass up and down on the Total Gym we inherited some ten years ago. I've never had any illusions about having six pack abs or a Calvin Klein ad-type body, but not so long ago I had gotten down to where I could see my target weight on this side of the horizon.
Things happened and my emotional state of mind overwhelmed everything else last summer and into the fall. I started a new job that required commuting and that was both my exercise and writing time down the tubes. I felt sorry for myself though I tried to keep working, keep writing. Exercise just went by the wayside.
A couple of weeks ago I started on the Total Gym again (I fully expect the 'bots to spam me now that I've mentioned it twice. I'll let you know). Just a couple days in, I started feeling good again. My thought processes were a little clearer, I could see my stories and my characters again. I felt GOOD in a way I hadn't for about nine months. Now I'm not going to make any connections about being born again because I think I got it right the first time, but I felt renewed and the feeling was welcome and familiar. That's what I'm saying.
I've long touted that exercise is a MUST for a writer. I once had a conversation with a famous SF writer in a workshop situation and he agreed with me which made me feel good, too. I've shared it here on the blog and I think I've even mentioned it over at the Confabulator Cafe (where you can read my thoughts on critiques today) but it bears repeating: get the hell up and walk around. Get the hell out of the house and go for a walk. You'll feel better.
I can't wait for winter weather to be pretty much over and for spring temps to start rising so that I can get out and walk on a daily basis. I can't run, I'm too fat. And now my knees are giving me fits partly because of my job and partly because I'm getting old.
But I'm not letting that defeat me. I'm tired of feeling bad. It wears me out and wears me down. I have too much work to do to just let that happen.
There won't be daily or even weekly updates on my weight loss or anything like that. The blog isn't turning into some Jenny Craig/Weight Watchers mirror site. I may occasionally from time to time mention how it's going and exhort you readers to do the same. It's good for you. But I'm trying to give up the refined sugar in soda (which is EASY) and candy (which is a lot harder for me) and to watch the carbs. Carbs. God help me I love bread and potatoes and everything about carbs but if I can fill some of that in with fresh fruit, I'm better off. That'll help with the sugar, too.
That's my plan. The better I feel physically, the better I'll feel mentally. And that's what's going to get the writing done.
Because when I'm writing, no matter what I'm writing, I'm happier and those bad feelings are behind me like so many broken branches after a windstorm.