It's amazing how self-fulfilling prophesies play out. I have, in the past, had an, um, issue with follow through. I think it all stems from the idea I wrote about in my first post, how if you don't do something right immediately, it's clearly not the thing to be doing. Crippling, that. So after making a promise to blog daily, I didn't write yesterday.
So I have a choice, here. I can succumb to my bad habits, beat myself up for continuing to disappoint myself or acknowledge I'm human and life is about showing up. I talk with one of my sisters regularly about how irritating it is that we have to continue showing up. I went to the gym yesterday, why do I have to go again? I already made the decision to eat well at lunch, why do I have to do that again at dinner. Sigh.
I'm not sure why my expectation of life arriving in the form of an engraved invitation on a silver platter carried by my trusty butler, Yardley, is not only not being fulfilled but deemed unreasonable. I was clearly born to learn romance languages and flower arranging while having a brilliant yet frivolous round of starring roles on the stage simply because my public is demanding it and I can't bear to break their hearts. Can't you see I'm a princess, Universe? Hello.
On another note, after watching marathon coverage and blazing through my Tivo'd treasures, I have a good, old-fashioned Sunday movie on as I write this entry. TCM is airing the much requested The Bedroom Window. You know, the 1987 classic thriller with Steve Guttenberg and Elizabeth McGovern? Nothing says suspense and tension like Mr. and Ms. 1980's Romantic Comedy. Wow. I'm shocked I've never. heard. of. it. There's a particularly fantastic scene in a bar (where E. McGovern is a cocktail waitress) that is positively resplendent with '80's decor. Neon and perms abound in addition to some amazingly bad dancing by the extras in the background. And there's simply nothing like watching Steve "Tough Guy" G. getting forceful with the housekeeper in his nubby, black & white, shoulder padded suit coat (bending at the waist and taking a hold of her shoulders). Be still my heart.
My rock star friend has completed the marathon and I'm waiting for his girlfriend to pour him onto my massage table. The coverage was incredibly moving, such stories! One older gentlemen who had a heart transplant years ago ran with the donors brother today. On the Verrazzano Bridge, he stopped, put the brother's hand on his heart and said, "That's your brother running this marathon." (or something of the like, that's not a direct quote) I can't believe that I ever complain about anything or have a hard time getting to the gym. Seriously.
It's also unbelievable how the marathon brings the city together. It's a mob scene by my apartment (I live about 1/4 mile from the park and 1/2 a mile from the finish line). So inspiring.