May Fucking First, eh?

I'm supposed to exercise. 

I don't know how to fucking "exercise" !! I danced growing up. Then I yoga'd a lot and continued to dance. And then my life fell apart. And then the gym came along. I think there comes a time in every adult's life where the gym becomes a place to consider "going to"; earlier for some than others. I thought it was kinda cool that my friends had gym memberships in high school and would "work"(hang)"out" at the 24 hour fitness on Wilshire. I didn't have to fucking work out! I'm naturally svelt, motherfuckers! Got those Korean mom genes - gonna keep me looking fresh for-ever. 

And turns out genes get you so far. Then you turn 30. buuuut I digress.

I'm supposed to exercise not only so my ass doesn't look like lumpy pancake batter, but also because it's supposed to be good for my mental well being. Exercise, endorphins, DNA, look good feel good, etc etc etc. I GET IT.  But, none of those reasons make it easy. When you're depressed/anxious, very little is motivating. And, getting up and jumping up and down and sweating and shit... fuck that. I'll just lay here and cry and not eat for a week. Devastation truly is the best diet.

I'm kidding. Please eat healthily and regularly! 

For a while, going to the gym gave me so much anxiety I would do these things to cope: 

  1. smoke a FAT JOINT in the parking lot 
  2. go inside.
  3. turn around and leave. 

I mostly ran on the treadmill, then did the machine things. I don't know how to lift but I'd like to learn. Running is a toughie. It makes me feel zen but like getting. to. that. first mile zen mark. hell, getting my ass on the treadmill is a Sisyphean task; all because I'm anxious.

Imagine that, my amygdala keeping my feet from flying. I hate brains. I wish we were all heart. We'd all be such a mess but we'd be so kind to one another. 

Anyway. It's May fucking first and I'm supposed to exercise. I'm not going to the gym because I'd rather not bumble around in front of strangers until I look fly enough to do so (cant wait to get on that leisure wear train!). Because, I also hate running next to other people. It freaks me out. 

BUT : In April, I got through my thirty fucking thirty! Thirty poems, thirty days and I am so happy I did that. I generated new material, got my writing muscles buffed, and even started taking my writing in new directions (particle physics! cowboys! real talk as per usual!) 

Which is to say: This is my MAY challenge. It feels like kind of a big ass leap from writing poems to getting my ass up and moving around quickly, doing difficult shit willingly... BUT uh, I guess I'll give it a shot. Ugh, I'm tired already. 

My friend Jason sent me this. I know I'm like two years old to this party but I really had no interest in Shia The BEEF doing stupid shit. Ah, but there is a time for all things I suppose.

And funny enough, I'm revved. Gonna go do some squats and planks and crunches and a quick yoga sequence. See how that feels. (ugh) 

Thanks Shia. and Jason - wish me luck, y'all: