progress?

There's a line from the Scott Jurek book Eat & Run that has really stuck with me: "Sometimes you just do things."

I'm not really in to just doing things.  In fact, part of what contributes to my eternal stagnation is that I can't just do things.  I always have to ask "why" or "what's so important about this" or "what is the point of doing that," and look how far all of that rumination has gotten me.

It seems like such a simple statement, but you'd be amazed at how useful it is when you're 8 miles into an 11 mile run, and the humidity is 127%, and you think maybe your toes have turned into little ginsu knives.  Other useful statements at such a juncture: "this is what I want" "I choose to be here" and "I will eat my face off when this is over."

Because choice is important, isn't it?  Feeling in control is a creature comfort.  Although it becomes less of a comfort for other creatures when you decide to try to control them, but overall I would say that feeling like you are your own master is an important element to happiness.

I turned 32 last week.  32!  Which I know won't seem like much to some of you, but it feels like a big deal.  People in their 30s own things.  They have paths.  They are in charge of stuff.  Or so it seems.  I've decided to embark on my own 30-something avenue that will be kind of a big deal if I see it through.  Naturally I don't plan on sharing it with you yet (not for quite awhile really), but I have to say it feels good to decide to just do something.  Because why the F not.  

*and sometimes 2 people in the course of a day ask you to write more blog posts, so you just sit down and do it 

don't fret my pet

There's a lot of hoopla out there about staying present and experiencing the moment and blah blah blah, but sometimes it's essential to look ahead.

When you're riding a motorcycle (or a bicycle for that matter) and you need to make a tight turn, it helps to look at where you want to go and almost like magic, the bike will follow your gaze. There's this awful exercise that they make everyone do in the motorcycle safety course that consists of making a figure eight in a very small box outlined on the pavement. The only way to execute the move is to turn your head in the direction that you need to go. If you look directly at the course the bike is taking instead of where the bike needs to go, you'll never be able to make the tight turn required to stay in the box.

The same thing goes for reading music. To stay with the tempo, you have to be able to play one note while looking at the next set of notes to see where the melody is headed. If you look at each note as you play it, you will always be behind the beat, and if you're sight reading (i.e. playing a piece of music for the first time, possibly for an audition or for your monthly hootenanny), forget it. You'll stumble all over yourself and wish you had taken up latch hooking instead of music.

It also comes in handy for instruments that have a large geography to cover. If I'm playing the guitar, and I need to get from the 3rd fret to the 7th fret, the best way for me to hit the right position is to play the 3rd fret chord while looking at the 7th fret so my hand knows where it's going (assuming you have to look when you play, which I do because I'm just not there yet). If I wait until the last second to mentally and physically transition to the next chord, it's sloppy every time.

What's my point? Well I thought I was going to be able to wrap this up neatly into a lesson-shaped package, but I'm having trouble keeping it cohesive today. So, instead of hitting "save now" and attempting to perfect this message, which we all know I will avoid like the dentist, I'm going to publish as is because it's been far too long since I've contributed to the cloud. Sometimes you have to vomit before you can get to the good stuff.