I started working out with weights as a teenager. I bought myself a set of lavender ladies’ dumbbells – Weider if memory serves. [i] I bought them because I thought they’d help me get thin – pursuing thin was the most important thing in my life for decades – but before I knew it, I fell in love with the strength that comes from contract, … Continue reading I feel strong when I resist.
My dreams aren’t particularly memorable. At least, that’s what I assume; I don’t remember them when I wake. Adulthood has made them boring. I know I dream despite drawing memory blanks because I haven’t gone insane, an unfortunate side-effect of an inability to reach REM sleep. [i] I no longer have the nightmare problems I had as a child. When I was eight, and then … Continue reading My dreams aren’t that memorable.
I have an excellent memory when it comes to minutiae, and I win at trivia games quite regularly – although it helps if I don’t get too many questions about sports. Ask me to tell you a joke, however, and I draw blanks. Ditto when it comes to producing pointed or appropriate quotes. I do better at remembering paragraphs or books, perhaps because one only … Continue reading In the end, there can be only one quote.
There are ten books on my bedside table. I don’t usually count the books in my “getting to it” pile, so that was a bit of a surprise. There are a further sixteen in the library downstairs, but I suspect those will die with spines uncracked. Then there are the e-books. I have five waiting on my Kindle, with a further three on the library … Continue reading It’s not hoarding if it’s books.
From Famine to Feast 