Randomosity, Part the 46th
Thursday, November 29, 2007, 7:29 PM
It should come as no surprise to anyone that I'm not going to reach the 50k mark. If you're disappointed, imagine how I feel 70% of the time. (The other 30% I'm reminding myself that I wrote more during the month of November than I have for the rest of the year.) As of this date, I have 10,023 words. I will plow ever forward; I might not have written a craptastic novel in November, but life ain't ova yet.
If you're single, under forty and looking, you lead with your boobs when walking where I live (which is a trendy place in Los Angeles). Doesn't matter if you're a guy or a girl, but I have to admit that this kind of walk looks much better on a woman.
It's not just the boobs first thing, though--it's where you put your shoulders. They should be back, back, back. (I've tried to hold my shoulders back and it's friggen uncomfortable.) You can swing your arms, but not from the elbow. Any arm swinging/hip-move action going on should begin with the ankle and end at your shoulder. In other words, the lower half of your body movement is not independent from your upper. It's one long fluid movement that should effortlessly reflect your obsessive healthy love of being fit.
I've tried this walk. I have to concentrate on keeping my shoulders back, my hips forward, my chin up. It feels unnatural, plus it doesn't let me look at the ground, which is why I tripped over the edge of a sidewalk this morning (L.A. is rife with them). Besides, I think this arrogant, uber-confident kind of walk looks better on a tall person than on a five-foot me. Which is a relief because I am Slouchasourus Chinchest Thunker.
No, not really, but I had fun coming up with the name.
Four Pounds Less
Since my stomach has been setting the food pace this week, I've lost four fricken pounds and a lot of water. When your tummy is wonky, you don't feel like drinking water. So I haven't been drinking hardly any. As a result my pants are almost loose. Look out, Cover Girls.
My ex told me once that he was able to re-direct a bad dream, to take control when things started going badly. It made me feel weak and left out. Why couldn't I turn around and confront whatever was chasing me? Why did I always have to miss the school bus, get lost in a familiar place, or have to go pee in a busy public restroom where the stalls only come up to mid-waist?
But for the first time I can remember, I was able to re-direct all hell breaking loose in Unhinged Dreamland the other morning. Maybe my bio-rhythms are on the upswing, maybe I've got butt-kickers on the brain, maybe the moon and stars are aligned just-so in the sky, but whatever it is that brought about a better ending and had me wake up smiling, I'm like, wildly grateful.
It's amazing how an early morning dream can affect my day--I make a phone call, answer an email, or face an issue that requires more than two brain cells, and in between the lines of it all is this feeling of a dream I can't remember. Either it hinders or empowers me.
Geeze, I spent almost ten minutes at this site tonight testing my word definition prowess! For every word I got right, ten grains of rice are going to be donated to the hungry (43 out of 50, FWIW).
I think it's a crazy idea that some website administrator is going to tally correct word definition choices of visitors, and then diligently count out ten wee pieces o' rice per word, but it's fun nonetheless (and legit according to Snopes.com). Go try it.
By the way, rice is easily digested (bland enough), and recommended for recovering upset tummies.