In-between thoughts: my philosophy love is weirding people out

Thoughts between sets at the gym.

Well, guess who has two thumbs had a physical therapy appointment to check up on her herniated disc and heard the phrase “you might have to get comfortable with doing these exercises daily for the rest of your life, and also don’t bend over at the waist, like, ever ever”? This gal.

Sigh. I realize I turn 40 next year, but I would rather not feel THIS old JUST yet.

So apparently I need to tweak my lifting routine a bit, set my phone alarm for stretch breaks every stinking hour, and just get more and more at peace with inhabiting a body that has needs and deserves as much care as my psychological self. So today [ed. a few days ago] is a light gym session using only machines for legs and focusing on bro-day arm lifts. With the ease of my lifting plan, I have more time to think and write because I don’t have to focus on catching my gasping breath in between sets. YAY FOR YOU.

My back scares me a little. Are you supposed to scare yourself?! Is that the goal of weightlifting? Anyway, I have decided to incorporate more side delt lifts into my weekly routine because my front and rear delts are solid and I need something new to do at the gym. It’s getting…. rote. Also it’s apparently still making my lower back sad.

Onto gym thoughts…

My latest musical obsession for lifting is 60s music; mostly the R&B/soul/pop/doo-wop stuff. Lots of Ronettes, Sam Cooke, Frankie Valley and the Four Seasons, The Four Tops, The Righteous Brothers, The Contours, Beach Boys, etc. It’s been so fun. Also, it makes me laugh that I grew up on “oldies” and now the music I listened to in high school would be considered “oldies” because I started listening to popular music 30 years ago… Did I say laugh? I MEAN IT MAKES ME GAZE OFF HELPLESSLY INTO THE ENCROACHING VOID WHILE LOSING THE WILL TO CARE ABOUT ANYTHING.

I have been having the WORST time trying to finalize my (ALREADY ACCEPTED) application to the philosophy PhD program at UH Manoa. UHM has the most worthless student service. My application was incomplete for months BUT I NEVER GOT A NOTICE ABOUT WHY. I had to guess and tried three things before I figured it out. The problem? They wanted me to send in my transcripts, EVEN THOUGH THEY ALREADY HAVE THEM FROM MY PREVIOUS APPLICATION TO THE SAME DEPARTMENT. Ffs. But I seem to have prevailed and a mere weeks before the semester starts, my application has been routed back to the slowbies (Grad Division) for final processing. I should be fully ready to enroll, all approvals fully processed, by November 2023. *eye roll*

I get a lot of nonplussed “…. Why are you doing this?” questions when I talk about getting my PhD in philosophy. On one hand, I get it. It’s a little weird to get a philosophy PhD if you have no dedicated plans to enter academia. I love my current job and don’t harbor any illusions that the university job market will be able to accommodate my lofty philosophical love and dreams. I’m content with staying in my current field until I retire — I find so much meaning in my current work and truly don’t think there’s anything more urgent and pressing than conservation and climate change mitigation. But you know what? I light up when I talk about philosophy and the PhD program. People tell me that all the time. I love it and I think everyone should find an intellectual pursuit that makes their heart sing, and they should pursue that heart-singing-maker in a way that makes sense for their own life. A PhD program just happen to fit, weird as it sounds, perfectly into mine. Every major obstacle has been eliminated, such that it would be silly for me, with my passions and abilities and motivations, not to do it. So for those curious: that’s why I’m doing it. For the joy and enrichment it brings my life (but apparently brings to very few other lives; très désolé).

This mug is too real lately.

Last note… It finally happened. One of our cats took a dive bomb off the lanai. She’s totally fine, but holy SH*T did I about crap my pants. Pip saw a little gecko on the water drain next to the railing, jumped at it, ended up grabbing both sides of the drain and just slid down to the ground below like a firefighter/stripper. Unbelievable. It’s funny to think about now (her sliding down the pipe was ridiculous), but it sure wasn’t funny when I was chasing her around between supports and rafters under the building because she was so scared she was actually scared of me (though she kept meowing at me to come help her). Cats are the worst. Don’t get cats. Actually, do. Get many. They are hilarious and the best part of the internet.

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