***Wednesday’s Words; Thursday Tales***
Due to circumstances partially beyond my control, I couldn’t make it to work on Wednesday. So, like any good opportunist, I used the forced time to write. And write. And write. That naturally led me to continue writing Thursday night after a session at the gym. While I welcomed the return of my Muse, she’s been reluctant to bestow her gifts. I’ve had a dickens of a time generating content for the outline of my latest project. I know the opening scene, a few kewl “candybar” moments, and the ending, but the middle’s been a struggle which is quite unusual for me.
I know a lot of my difficulty stems from the story itself. It’s a love story set in the modern era, quite different from my usual fantasies. But I know the story’s interesting and I plan to keep plugging away at it.
When I told R. yesterday I was hittin’ the gym (cardio) on Thursday, the reaction was: “again?”
I worked out Monday for 2 ½ hours; Tuesday for two, and took a break on Wednesday. Such a schedule is not unusual: I used to hit the gym religiously for a couple of hours 5-6 days a week. So the hour’s worth of cardio yesterday was nothing (and it wasn’t that difficult of a class, either.)
Can the loss of jeans make one superficial?
(Image found on the Internet and all rights belong to its owners.)
Years ago, after R. and I moved in together down in Huntington Beach, California, I promised myself to update my wardrobe. At the time, all I wore regularly were blue jeans, jean shorts, T-shirts, sneaks, and non-button down shirts. I wanted to start wearing wool pants, blended button down, and shoes that cost more than my PDAs (fully featured.) I never did, though.
Last year I took a temp assignment whose dress code, on an informal day, was no ties for the men and comfortable shoes for the women. (I still don’t understand why women wear those horrible heels.) I bought new clothes for this assignment while simultaneously tossing out my old informal clothing. I justified the latter since they were old (we're talking nearly a decade here) and, more importantly, would not fit any more without my significantly tightening the belts. (I had dropped from a size 38 to a size 35 a few years ago.)
The assignment came and went and now I’m a perm for the third time in my post-college years. And I can wear jeans on informal day which is once a week. One prob: no more blue jeans.
And now I don’t know if I want to buy a new pair. For some reasons, wearing jeans represents, to me, another person and his life, not mine. What concerns me is that this attitude is extending beyond just clothing. Do I really want to buy a regular car like a Ford or Honda? Do I really want to shop for my ties over at Mervyns? Buy shoes from Payless? Generic toilet paper?
R. said earlier in our relationship that once you get used to a certain lifestyle, it’s hard to go back to a previous one. I poo-pooped those words but now I’m not to sure.
Huh. Maybe I should look for some jeans this weekend. Where’s my Nordstroms card…?*
*If you haven’t figured it out by now, I’m being a bit silly with this particular post. I would buy a Ford or Honda as long as the formal was a Mustang or a Mercury, and the latter was an Acura. And Nordstroms is way too expensive and the clothing too generic: the men’s store at Robinsons-May has a better selection of silk ties anyway.