Probably all of you still have a file containing English Grammar lessons from your 5th grade class... right? (Um, I didn't hear you chime in there. I'm going to assume it was my poor hearing.)
And I'm sure that everyone else knows their exact SAT scores, as I now do. (No, you don't really want me to say it. I ... um... well, I don't want you to feel inadequate, okay? Sheer thoughtfulness, that's me.)
Going through
Goal of the month: Still
Ugh. Spent tonight throwing out cards and letters from old boyfriends. Why did I have to save everything?
Goal of the week: I
Well... kinda... sorta... not. I think it was actually 8 a.m., but I'm not sure since, like a coward, I stopped looking at the clock by that point
Exercise du jour: C25k week 4. Something I would never have dreamed of doing in high school. See? I'm evolving. And I promise never to write poetry about a boy ever again. Honest. Cross my heart and hope to never experience H.S. again.
Brisk five-minute warmup walk, then:
- Jog 1/4 mile (or 3 minutes)
- Walk 1/8 mile (or 90 seconds)
- Jog 1/2 mile (or 5 minutes)
- Walk 1/4 mile (or 2-1/2 minutes)
- Jog 1/4 mile (or 3 minutes)
- Walk 1/8 mile (or 90 seconds)
- Jog 1/2 mile (or 5 minutes)
6 comments:
I'd pay good money to see that poetry of yours.
My sister still has her diaries from middle and high school. I mock the contents of them daily. :)
Poetry? What poetry? I have no idea what you're talking about. Besides, I have a very efficient shredder. Which I prize above rubies.
High School. Ugh. ack. spit. barf. And no, you don't me to tell you how I really feel.
When you're purging, you can't look at it. A few weeks ago I was in the mood to purge stuff. Several weeks running I filled up the wheeled recycle bin (2'x2'3' and subtract a bit for rounded corners) with paper. Minutes from a board I used to be on. In 1990. Lots of other paper from a similar vintage. Didn't look at any of it. My thinking was that I had found no reason to look at in the previous many years, so there's no reason now. I now have more shelves for books.
Shred away. It was how you were then, it is not how you are now.
putting high school through a shredder would be very cathartic, very fargo.
Ha! Now I'm in a chipper mood ;)
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