Emchap’s Shit from the Internet 11/7/18 🍠
This weekend, I did a free assessment workout situation at a local Crossfit gym, partially because it was free and partially because the Crossfit folks I know are sort of maniacally friendly, which is appealing to me as someone who works out of her house. If I'm going to pay a bunch of money to do something abjectly awful to myself, I might as well make friends.
I have always thought of myself as unathletic. As a kid growing up, all the way through college, I managed to avoid things that I wasn't at least pretty good at at first try. (#humblebrag, but this is of course pretty common among many of the people that I know so whatever.) I did the super common gifted kid thing of basically getting out of college without any psychic ability to suck at something and learn to be better. Because of that, I wound up locked into identity as a pretty fixed thing: I was smart, I wasn't athletic, I was kind of okay looking, and I was funny.
The first thing that challenged that for me was improv, because no one is good at improv when they first start (even if they're funny), and as a result "you suck at this for several years" is built into the training system that surrounds it. You go up, you do a horrifyingly unfunny scene, people clap, and then you repeat that 800 more times and get better. It was a big part of my post-college life in Atlanta; I loved it. (As my therapist pointed out the other day, my face lit up when talking about that part of my life and literally no other, which, Noted.)
I went to the gym some when I was in Atlanta with the vague goal of getting stronger; I had a personal trainer. But it was a poor match, and I found working out alone unmotivating, and he made things easy enough on my that I neither saw results nor was super engaged. Assorted sundry men in my life had opinions about it, which enraged me. I abandoned it to focus on other shit.
Halfway through my time in New York, I wound up joining a unicorn-themed gym because of an Instagram ad. I was incredibly self deprecating about how much I would suck and how I was in such bad shape etc. etc. etc. And, like, I was. But I also had pretty strong legs, and could squat more than some of the other folks, and found being around other people (nice people! who clapped for new folks!) motivating. I liked being there even if I hated doing split squats, so I went. And I was never in good shape, but I became familiar with the moves, and got better at them. I got stronger.
I did a little bit of the self-deprecating shit when I showed up to the Crossfit gym, because in addition to being friendly Crossfit folks have a reputation for being Super Intense about their workouts. The guy giving me the tour laughed, and said that no one at this particular gym was going to go to the Crossfit Games, and the general vibe was "I hate this but my doctor said I had to." Which, like, fair.
I did the baseline workout with him. It was 500 meters on the rowing machine, and 40 squats, and 30 situps, and 20 pushups, and then 10 pullups (which were me standing on a bench and jumping my chin over the bar). And as he was showing me the moves, I realized that I actually was comfortable with them. I'm out of shape because I haven't worked out for most of 2018, but I knew how to do each of the things. I had learned.
I wasn't really worried I'd get laughed at (which would have been the case in my early 20s), but I didn't think I'd be any good. But I was. The small number of pushups my atrophied-ass muscles were able to handle had excellent form without correction. I did all the squats and was complimented on my form and stoic response to them. The trainer said that he liked how light on my feet I was when doing the weird jump-pullups, that I seemed aware of my body in space (which is not something I would ever say about myself).
I'm still definitely not in particularly good shape in any way. But the experience was a reminder that that's not a permanent identity; it's just a reflection of how much effort I have or haven't put into practicing that skill. I don't know if I'll join the gym, but if nothing else the experience was a positive cap to the weekend, and I was glad that I had it.
Shit to read
This is basically order muppet/chaos muppet or round/pointy in another form, but I loved this grand theory of dorrito preferences.
I had never heard of Father Divine and his civil rights restaurant movement/cult and this article is great.
Someone I know is quoted in this Cosmo article about garbage bad sex ed, and it's worth reading.
Did you know that Edna Lewis wrote a cookbook with menus for Juneteenth but not Thanksgiving or July 4th? That is my favorite of many delightful facts in this piece about her family and her legacy.
The comments on this feedsack dress from a museum are a lovely trove of older folks talking about sewing from when they grew up.
Busses are good, actually.
This is a mean and very funny takedown of Jill Soloway's memoir and it is a soothing balm.
I loved this look at queer identity and Judaism.
Captain Awkward's twitter account produced three poems I really enjoyed: "I lived in the first century of world wars" (written in 1968!!), "Revenge" ("Since you mention it, I think I will start that race war./I could’ve swung either way? But now I’m definitely spending/the next 4 years converting your daughters to lesbianism;/I’m gonna eat all your guns."), and "The low road" ("With four/you can play bridge and start
an organization. With six/you can rent a whole house,/eat pie for dinner with no/seconds, and hold a fund-raising party.").I enjoyed this analysis of the midterms.
And finally, this article about the Black church and lipstick.
Shit to eat
After your Crossfit workout, go to the farmer's market across the street and realize you have leveled up to some true heights of dumb late-20s California affluence.
Go to the same stall you always go to, because they have a 3 for $5 vegetable deal that is pretty dang good!
They might be a cult, based on the name. Unclear. Do not ask.
Pick up some lettuce for salads, some leeks for because you like leeks, and debate what else to get.
Reject the curly-leafed kale, because fuck kale.
Pick up some other dark green that looks like it might be mustard greens or collards. Ask the nice maybe-a-cult man what it is.
He will tell you that it is a different kind of kale.
At that point it's already in your bag, so, take it home and stew.
That night, when removing a roast chicken from the oven, decide to cook it so you can have a meal that's not just a quarter of a chicken.
Heat a skillet until water hisses when you flick it.
Add a tablespoon of olive oil and some garlic and red pepper flakes. Stir it around for a minute.
Rinse the bunch of kale, but don't dry it too much.
Strip the leaves and tear them with your hands.
Toss them in the pan, with splash of white vinegar and some salt and pepper.
Put a lid on the skillet, and a timer on for five minutes.
Every minute or so, open the pot and stir the kale around.
After five minutes, when things are wilty, give it a final stir and take it off the stove.
Put it next to the chicken and feel like an adult who cooked multiple foods for dinner. Eat with the chicken and pita. Or alone. I don't know your life.
Shit to buy
I'm "considering not using my phone as my alarm clock anymore" years old. I like this one.
I don't 100% understand why Target's in-house activewear line is making fleece lined windbreakers but this one is cute. (Also in a chiller colorway.)
If you eat meat, buy a chicken and make this recipe.