I had to watch a little digital movie I made last term AGAIN this morning. I should be flattered, I know, that something I made (at the last minute, with little forethought, and with my usual degree of carelessness) is seen so favorably that it is viewed over and over again and is used by my professor almost like a sales tool for our program. People do seem to connect with it, but, of course, I interpret their appreciation of it as evidence of their poor taste and low standards. But, that is just my deal. Still, if I had known I would have to watch it over and over again, I would have taken care to fix a few blemishes, redo a few of the edits, put more thought into its construction. Alas, it is too late.
Maybe it will be the last good thing I do. Shit. If it gets me funding for the next three years, who cares. I will ride that mofo all the way to 2007.
The pool was abysmally crowded tonight. The lockers in the men’s locker room as placed so close together that, during crowded nights like tonight, your ass sometimes touches the ass of the guy across from you. You both bend over to put your underpants on (or take them off) and–plap–your asses slap together in a kind of inadvertent and awkward High Five. It is especially unpleasant if the bumpee’s ass is still cold and damp from the pool.
Not that it happens a lot. But, it has occurred more than once. Enough for me to carefully take in my surroundings before slipping in or out of my skivvies.
I have still not been able to correct my wayward kick, and my pitifully spindly arms end up doing most of the work when I swim. It is odd to try and rework something that has become habitual. My legs want to kick as they always have–it feels natural now–which means that trying to correct them feels so unnatural. I feel like I am flailing from one end of the pool to the next, and I exert myself so much that I can only last about half and hour before I move to the jacuzzi and then cap off the evening in the sauna. I leave the gym famished, with my muscles buzzing and tender.