Spare me from ever having to listen to Fresh Air again (Day 36)

One of the nice things about finally having a smartphone again is not having to listen to public radio unless I really want to. Having firmly embraced my book reading for information habit, I find I *really* don't want to, and listening to my local outlets feels like nails on chalkboard when I encounter it. No, this isn't because I'd prefer to listen to commercial radio, but because NPR has made me roll my eyes since the ad for the video game--excuse, extremely long PR piece for the video game--and the PR spot for nuclear energy (I know I've been bad about linking lately, but if I could find this link I would. If you don't believe me, just keep listening until you hear a similar puff piece.) And fine, this is what "the news" is now, but then don't make me sit through hours of BS during fund drives about how that isn't what you are at all.

My husband hasn't lost his patience with public radio as much as I have, bless him, so today I relented when he wanted to listen to Fresh Air. This was a "Best Of" episode that featured an interview with Mark Ruffalo. What could possibly go wrong?

OH MY GOD. Please, please, please. I have been railing over Performance for over a year now, but only because I finally had a name for it. It's what the kids are really getting at when they obsess over being a non-conformist or authenticity or whatever terminology people are using now. Since I'm not a teenager, I understand that we do have to go through some performances, especially when we interact with people we don't know. Very well. But at my age, do I really need to listen to some actor going through the motions of self-effacement talking about New York City, anonymity, and what he's lost--but also gained!--by being in a movie franchise that mints money? Or how comedy is such a different animal from drama? Especially when he says NOTHING I haven't heard and read hundreds of times before?

Why do these people pretend They're Just Like You and Me (TM)? Yeah, yeah, yeah, he was on a press junket for the movie he's been nominated for, and he was just answering questions, but still in all, ew. Your craft, yeah, whatever. The vast majority of us aren't going to act in any venue, and the way he puts on a character isn't that interesting to me. Tell me about the finances, tell me whether you made any money on the back end, tell me when you're going to start producing your own movies, tell me SOMETHING I haven't already heard, or just move on.

No, right, they're not going to do that--so I guess I'll have to. Fresh Air, you had a good run (and when you were good, you were very good--this interview with Dorothy Allison still haunts me), but you've been done, at least for me, for a while. (And the same to the vast majority of public radio.)

Thank god for books.

Deb in the City

I'm not that way

May and June were a little tight around here. Several big bills came in at a time when our income was a little lower than usual, and we had a bill due in a few months that we were putting funds aside for. It was tight but it wasn't desperate by any means; we were in no danger of not being able to pay bills, and when minor emergencies came up, we could attend to them. But anyone who has ever suffered from financial hardship for extended periods of time knows how traumatizing it can be. As with all traumas, they can be triggered with surprising ease, never mind what you intellectually know and even believe. 

Thus in June I found myself developing a very bad case of hives, and on top of that the insomnia that frequently haunts me became unbearable. I remembered something I had read in the book Move the Body, Heal the Mind about the value of more intense exercise in getting some sleep, so I decided to follow the author's plan. 

The first day found me bored out of my mind. I walk all over the place, but for this more intense, half hour walk I decided to go into one of the many green spaces near my home. It really is lovely, but after three laps around the body of water I thought I was going to jump out of my skin. However, it worked: I slept really well that night. More intense exercise does work, but I could not repeat that experiment.

The second day called for a warm up and then circuit strength training. The exercises were very doable, even though my right hip was strained, but it was still a little boring. (But again, it worked.) In desperation, I jumped onto YouTube to find something at least for the warm ups.

I stumbled upon British trainer Lucy Wyndham-Read. Her workouts are very doable and creative, and the fact that she's my age makes me take her a little more seriously. After one session, I was hooked (and, yes, my sleep has been great). I'm spending no more than thirty five minutes on my workouts (unless I'm really inspired), I'm working up a sweat, and I feel good. We're basically doing low-impact circuits of approachable light calisthenics (my downstairs neighbors just don't appreciate my higher-impact movements), and it's..fun.

It's fun, and I feel good. It's been a while since I had that combination from physical activity, and it was noticeable. I'm someone who's been physically active most of my life, so why was this different? And since this was the case, why had I spent so long tormenting myself with yoga and Pilates?

I think it comes down to performance, and once again that makes me cringe.

I just can't anymore

 

I once read something in an old Glamour magazine in the late 90s (don't ask for more specificity than that) in which someone said training for a marathon made them feel like they weren't just working out, they were now being athletic/practicing a sport. At the time I nervously nodded my head and started doing the exhausted kind of math I did in my late twenties. Must be serious about working out to the point of being an athlete...no matter how much time that took out of my already punishing schedule.

I was disturbed to realize how much I had taken not only seriousness but athleticism to heart (and no, not because of this one article). And it's probably obvious that I was very aware of what people thought of my physical activity, whether I wanted to acknowledge it or not. (Who knew being the last one picked for dodge ball stayed with you this long...)

I was a yoga teacher, and I was a Pilates instructor. When I stopped teaching, I was then a Walker, even when I had young children, and even when I was suffering with cancer. And I always felt like I should practice -- and I mean, practice -- qigong more. And even when I did something that was less doctrinaire, it had to be "fusion", or at least conscious of those modalities. And even when it wasn't, much of it was informed by the principles of dance.

Well thank goodness for weight training...except that always had to be done "correctly". I don't just mean form -- please, your form is extremely important if you lift weights! -- but the methodology -- the thinking -- behind all of the moves had to be logical. Squats, deadlifts, and shoulder presses were my holy trinity, because they got your whole body and you wouldn't waste any time and that was what people who were serious about weightlifting did.

There were many times when I would exercise and I would feel better afterward, but it was always tempered with "how can I improve?", "did I do that as well as I could have?", "did I do it correctly?", and, of course, "what would other people think?" The hell of it was always -- always -- that unless I did something unapproachable for many people -- walk for a really long time, do something that required a lot of core strength, or push into my flexibility -- my modalities were silly or girly or not going to give me Results or just not serious enough and why was I bothering? 

Honestly, a lot of times I hated working out, but for the last week I haven't. And did I mention that I feel good? That is worth me no longer having a respectable identity. I am not a yogi. I am not a Pilates practitioner. I am not a qigong student. I am not a dancer. I am not a weight trainer. I am not even a super duper walker. 

I just work out. And I feel good. Oh yeah, I also sleep really well.

Deb in the City