not progress

There are some days where you get out of the bed and quickly realize that you should have stayed there. This past Sunday was one of those days. I just couldn’t get my brain organized.

After a rather fumbley morning, I decided that I should get back to troubleshooting my RD project’s wiring harness. I was understanding it a couplea weeks ago, so I got it…right?

I bundled a cluster that I’m going to keep with super-fancy cord wrap*.

Then decided to be a crazy risk-taker and make a male plug for one of the trashed headlight wires.

The soldering iron I have is on the weaker end of the spectrum, so I had to wait a while for it to heat up enough. Then I burned the housing a little. But I made a decent solder connection, so I was happy. I wrapped it with electrical tape and moved on.

This is where things went a bit downhill.
As I went back through the harness, tracing wires to keep and trying to figure out how it all runs, I found two wires that needed to be connected to … something … but I couldn’t figure out to what. My brain was feeling a bit addled and sluggish, so after more unproductive staring at the harness and the wiring diagram and back and forth a few times, I gave up and watched a movie.

Meh.

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* that was rather tongue-in-cheek if you hadn’t guessed already.

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a friend

a friend
terry roberts 1.8.2000

snow trees standing
gray brown green
pine, alder, maple, oak
my old old apple tree friend

wise bare of pretense
thick with age and bearing
tire once hung from branch
swing now long gone to firewood

not straining to live
not anxious at mortality
never grieving over the
tastelessness of its apple

mocking my anger
with equanimity and quiet
daring me to be still
to be winter naked and summer flush

arousing rememberings of childhood
while suggesting memories worth
lessness, not captivated at all
by suffering, by rage, by bliss

older than old, more silent
than silence, knotted yet not
bound, part of the sky
Deeply, blessedly part of me.

identity

Tonight I went to my first Zumba class. For those of you that don’t know what Zumba is, from what I could tell from the class, it’s a light dance class that is supposed to be aerobic. I doubt my heart rate ever hit aerobic levels this evening, but I can see how if I did it regularly and perhaps for two hours instead of one, it could be decent exercise.

One of the reasons I could tell I wasn’t working that hard was because I spent a fair amount of time thinking. And that means I wasn’t being forced to concentrate on a difficult workout.

A few thoughts wandered around my head included the idea that I wanted to go do some weight lifting after class. I like it when I feel the ache and pull in my muscles, and this class was not satisfying that craving.

Another thing that struck me was that I didn’t feel comfortable. Yes, it was my first class and the new dance steps occasionally caused me to bump into the person next to me, but it wasn’t that. The feeling was that this wasn’t my thing. It just didn’t click. The music was ridiculously auto-tuned and the moves were what stands these days for sexy, but I found them rather unappealing and awkward (boy does that sentence make me sound old. Ha!) I considered what it would take to get certified so that I could host a Punk and/or Metal Zumba class. Wouldn’t it be great to Zumba to Iron Maiden and Bad Brains? Throw in some Cranes and Pixies just for a change of pace?

I started to wonder what it was that didn’t ‘click’ for me and why. What is it about me that wasn’t drawn to this? And what defines me as the me that didn’t quite get that type of dance exercise? Was it that I don’t like poorly created music? Was it because of the ungainly movements? What about this Zumba class did I define as “not me?”

Seems a bit existential for a Zumba class.

I like that.

Maybe I’ll go again.