So I got orthopedic inserts today. I feel taller and straighter and like I can’t believe how expensive it is to have some one put big pebbles in your shoes. This is to make running less dangerous in theory. The running is still happening even if I’m not writing about it.
Most of yesterday was given over to trying to be a good mentor, friend, and colleague. Some of it felt great; some of it was heartbreaking. All of it was distracting from my own work. There is something deeply selfish about writing.
In the midst of those conversations I got some good opportunities to reflect on what I call vertical living. It’s the idea that one defines oneself by the radical present. [I am a human drinking really good ice coffee with soy milk and blogging while standing in a back bedroom in central Brooklyn.] This is in contrast to horizontal living in which one reads one’s life as narrative. [My mommy issues are making me at once seek out problems and at the same time remain disgustingly optimistic, etc.etc.] I’m told the first approach is kind of zen or living in the moment and someone even suggested in might relate to some bit of ancient philosophy. Frankly, I like it because it takes less emotional energy to deduce my present state of being and adjust, rather than trying to analyze all the interconnections.
Of course as an academic in the humanities raising in the age of self help, the analysis come super easy. Second Nature. But it is still exhausting. And it feels fatalistic.
Right now, I’m okay with just being a coffee drinking blogger in deeply uncomfortable shoe inserts.