Tuesday, April 04, 2006

Hurts To Lift My Arm, But I Can Still Type

If history has taught us anything, I give up too easily. I'd like to dissociate myself from old habits, but they die hard, as the saying goes. My sleeping patterns were excellent last month: up at 7:30 A.M., asleep at 12:30 A.M. This schedule enabled me to write in the mornings (surprisingly productive results, considering I'm a night person), listen to the National Playlist (CBC radio, cancelled last week), eat three meals daily (as opposed to sleeping through the first two), and generally function as a member of society. And that all went to shit.

I suppose if I had tossed the covers before lunchtime, I might have studied Nova Scotia before my interview with the tourism people. I tried a few Google searches this weekend but abandoned those efforts; I thought the trivia questions wouldn't surface during the interview. I thought wrong. I thought it would be best to recalibrate my sleep schedule after the interview, seeing as how it would be in the afternoon and waking up at 12:45 P.M. should translate to prime alertness at 4:30 P.M. Wrong; started defragging the computer before bed, and it motored all night. I thought my Sunday best were ironed, clean, and hanging in my closet. Wrong again; they were moved during the massive sweep before Christmas. Basically, I was so discombobulated before leaving the house, that I had to spend the drive to town mentally calming myself. By the time I reached the intersection at Starrs and Haley, it occurred to me that I wasn't in this mess alone. I thought of all the people who have and continue to support me. I won't list them for fear of omitting someone, but it really helped to clear my mind of negative thoughts. I think the interview went well. That is, it didn't go nearly as bad or nearly as good that it could have, so well feels like a good descriptor. What's done is done, and I really have no desire to say more on the subject. But I did spend the next few hours thinking about stuff I knew to say but simply didn't. No different than any other interview, I guess.

I was with Dad, and once I returned to the car, we picked up a pizza and went to pick up Mom at her school, where she had been waiting the entire time. (Had we found my suit sooner, we would have stopped for her on the way to town.) As we approached the school, dad called her on the cell to announce our arrival, and he then decelerated to a near stop, then we proceeded to the parking lot. I wasn't quite clear on the situation, but I assume the neighbourhood thugs were up to something again. We parked in front of the main entrance and she met him there, then they disappeared into the building. So I sat in the car for about fifteen minutes, listening to American talk radio (Howie Carr, for those who care). I noticed a young kid on a scooter drive by and vanish behind the school, and I wondered if this was one of the infamous delinquents I'd heard so much about. Anyway, a few minutes later as my eyes are meandering from the clouds to the dash to the pavement to the roof, I spot a could of kids on the roof of the damn school, and these thugs are no more than 10; one looked about 8. I plucked the keys from the ignition, locked the car, ran into the school and announced what I had seen, and mom replied before my echoing voice faded. They were taking pictures of these hellions on the roof.

We dealt with that situation, and I think they have good photographic evidence of who was there. When we got home I had a phone message from Tarek, and he invited me to accompany him to the gym where he works out. So I ate my pizza and watched Frasier, then it was back to town. I forget exactly what machines I used and how much I lifted, but it was pitiful. To put it all into perspective, I haven't walked or run for over a year, and I haven't weightlifted since first year at Dalhousie in 1998. All I know is my muscles are sore and stiff, I feel like I just fought a thousand battles, and I didn't think about my interview once the whole time. I almost blacked out on more than one occasion, but it feels good to know that I've taken another step toward my own well-being. I just hope I don't give up too easily on this too.


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