(no subject)

Okay, for those of you curious about, or envious of, my last journal entry, let me write what I could have written yesterday.

*OUCH*!

That pretty much sums it up, but you can emphasize my quadriceps (the muscles in front of the thigh). But, yesterday I realized that I was jogging faster than I needed to, and alternated jogging, fast jogging, and walking, rather than just fast jogging and walking. Tonight is a biking night.

If you ever start an exercise program, BTW, and you hurt the next day, remember... work out again, *GENTLY* that day. Otherwise, and you might find this hard to believe, you feel even worse the next day. I'm glad I knew (and remembered) this, because I'm still achey today, but I'm feeling a *LOT* better.

Other than that... I'm trying to do some writing, both to people, and for other purposes. I finally caught up on a lot of LiveJournal. And I'm still feeling kind of funny.

Death is always weird for me, and it usually causes me to detach... and it's not always easy to remember that there's nothing one is supposed to feel, or do.

But I also sometimes sort-of wonder why. Is it depression? Do I not feel the sharpness of grief? Or is it just an internalized feeling of "but life goes on, and there's nothing more to do"?

On my way out to Seattle, I met Leslie (whom I love, and knew I wouldn't see much of because of the distance), and Anna... no one else. And, in a way, I think I'm kind of glad about that, because her memory is that much stronger as part of the trip.

Somewhere, I have a memory (and I almost think there was someone else involved) of Anna talking about how she was complimented on her hair "and I didn't have the cat on my head". It's a shiny moment for me.

Pat and I had dinner together the night we heard... we were having shrimp and stuff over pasta. It contained tomatoes. Anyone out there suddenly giggling?

Anna had been 'discussing' problems with gene splicing, pointing out that combining shrimp genes into tomato plants could cause a problem. Someone else, who was arguing from a "but it's just like plant breeding that's been going on forever" position, and didn't seem to understand she wasn't talking about splicing corn to corn... he asked her what world *SHE* was living in, so I asked "do shrimp fuck tomatoes in your world? If so, YOU aren't the one connected to the real one", or somesuch. She let me know it got a good laugh out of her, and it made me happy to know that. And no, as near as I could tell, the shrimp and the tomatoes in the pasta sauce weren't doing anything improper. Which is good, as I believe all parties involved were dead. Would that make it necrophilia, or would the fact that both were dead make it something else entirely?


Ah well... life DOES go on.

(no subject)

Okay, for those of you curious about, or envious of, my last journal entry, let me write what I could have written yesterday.

*OUCH*!

That pretty much sums it up, but you can emphasize my quadriceps (the muscles in front of the thigh). But, yesterday I realized that I was jogging faster than I needed to, and alternated jogging, fast jogging, and walking, rather than just fast jogging and walking. Tonight is a biking night.

If you ever start an exercise program, BTW, and you hurt the next day, remember... work out again, *GENTLY* that day. Otherwise, and you might find this hard to believe, you feel even worse the next day. I'm glad I knew (and remembered) this, because I'm still achey today, but I'm feeling a *LOT* better.

Other than that... I'm trying to do some writing, both to people, and for other purposes. I finally caught up on a lot of LiveJournal. And I'm still feeling kind of funny.

Death is always weird for me, and it usually causes me to detach... and it's not always easy to remember that there's nothing one is supposed to feel, or do.

But I also sometimes sort-of wonder why. Is it depression? Do I not feel the sharpness of grief? Or is it just an internalized feeling of "but life goes on, and there's nothing more to do"?

On my way out to Seattle, I met Leslie (whom I love, and knew I wouldn't see much of because of the distance), and Anna... no one else. And, in a way, I think I'm kind of glad about that, because her memory is that much stronger as part of the trip.

Somewhere, I have a memory (and I almost think there was someone else involved) of Anna talking about how she was complimented on her hair "and I didn't have the cat on my head". It's a shiny moment for me.

Pat and I had dinner together the night we heard... we were having shrimp and stuff over pasta. It contained tomatoes. Anyone out there suddenly giggling?

Anna had been 'discussing' problems with gene splicing, pointing out that combining shrimp genes into tomato plants could cause a problem. Someone else, who was arguing from a "but it's just like plant breeding that's been going on forever" position, and didn't seem to understand she wasn't talking about splicing corn to corn... he asked her what world *SHE* was living in, so I asked "do shrimp fuck tomatoes in your world? If so, YOU aren't the one connected to the real one", or somesuch. She let me know it got a good laugh out of her, and it made me happy to know that. And no, as near as I could tell, the shrimp and the tomatoes in the pasta sauce weren't doing anything improper. Which is good, as I believe all parties involved were dead. Would that make it necrophilia, or would the fact that both were dead make it something else entirely?


Ah well... life DOES go on.