This morning I went to a Zumba class with my mom. It’s the second time I’ve gone and I enjoyed it much more. I dragged my feet on going with her for a long time because I saw it as kind of an activity exclusively for middle-aged women. Then one day I realized A) that I’m not exactly a spring chicken anymore and B) if my mom would be happy just from me going—AND it’s healthy for me, besides—I may as well humor her and check it out. I’ve never been a dancer and I felt very apprehensive and embarrassed to go. I ended up being pleasantly surprised and it felt nice just dancing without fear of being judged. There’s such a sense of unity in the room, all of us jiggling rhythmically to Latin music. Anyway, I’m not going to be Beyoncé’s backup dancer any time soon, but I’m having a good time.
In the afternoon, I went back to my favorite café to write for a few hours before work. Two of the baristas recognized me from when I was there on Monday and we introduced ourselves formally. I also got to explain what my Freewrite was to like three different people. I totally felt like a saleswoman making a pitch, but it was cool that they were interested in it. I really like this café so I'm making a habit of going there more often. I do wish they were open later, but I love the atmosphere and the location. I dig the idea that it's becoming my café—that I'm becoming a regular there.
At dinner, I ate "Taiwanese style spicy intestine", which was delicious and about at the maximum level of spiciness that I can handle. It's always so sad to me that I've been eating spicy food all my life, but my tolerance for it is still so bad. It's not for lack of trying!
I had to delay Tremolo chapter three by a day. This chapter and the last are rather dialogue-heavy. I enjoy writing dialogue and I'm used to it because of how dialogue-dependent visual novels are, but I am a little dissatisfied by my prose. I feel like the in-between parts don't stand out as much. Maybe I'm being too hard on myself. In my head, beautiful prose is made up of grand metaphors and delicate, contrasting phrases put together to describe something in a bold and inventive way. Yet when people go on for pages and pages describing the sky or going off on tangents about architecture, the reader can get bored. Where is the line between beautiful prose and self-indulgent rambling? It must be pretty fine.
Today's word is rather literal. A lot of Zumba moves involve reaching upwards or to the sides. I "reach" to try to get more spicy-food-tolerant. You've got to keep reaching in order to stretch and grow, so even sort of ordinary days like today are important in the grand scheme of things.
I was a little taken aback at being recognized because I was wearing glasses on Monday. My cousin has attempted to explain to me that I don't look like a completely different person just because I put my glasses on, but hey, it works for Clark Kent...? ↩︎
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