You can always workout. If u can’t go to the gym, go outside!!!! It’s always a good idea to have a good pair of shoes, some light weights to strengthen your muscles, and a yoga mat so it doesn’t hurt to lie on the ground. And find a routine that works for u!!! I use Kayla itsines bbg! I love it. Your gonna have to work for a good body, but YOU CAN DO THIS! Make it happen so you can become the better you. DO IT FOR YOU!
Hey guys, I know I’ve been gone for a while but I have a new goal: establishing dream contact with my brother lazy yogi! I’m excited but I wasn’t sure if I could still lucid dream as easily as I used to but having lucid dreamed without trying I’m happy and inspired. So this is what happened:
I guess I’ve mastered the technique: WBTB (wake back to bed) because I inadvertently or rather unknowingly used the technique this morning… Well let’s say ‘subsequently’ used WBTB because my girlfriend wasn’t feeling well and I stayed awake to make sure she was okay. When I finally fell asleep I woke up to loud music playing. I was annoyed and wondering who was playing music so loud while I was trying to sleep! The song was by an artist called “partynextdoor”. I got up out of the bed I was in and immediately I realize I’m dreaming. This house was not my house but my grandparents house upstate ny. Everything was exactly how I remembered it when I used to visit when I was a kid. I walked slowly into the living room where the fireplace was and stood there rubbing my hands together: dream stability. I recalled my goal: meet my brother lazy yogi to establish contact via lucid dream. (I had something I needed to tell him and there was something he needed to tell me and if when we spoke in waking life he told me the correct phrase, I would know that we actually met in the dream). I walked towards the front door to head to the porch. I noticed some bright colored Nike sneaker boxes to my left which I took note of; they were very bright and stood out in the dream, they also are actually in my house in waking life. I went out into the porch and decided to fly to where lazy yogi was, which in retrospect was a bad idea: if the dream is not fully stabilized or the dreamer not deeper in sleep, trying to fly or something like that can easily wake them up. As I was about to fly I looked to my left and saw my (deceased) grandfather sitting on the porch with someone else I couldn’t make out. He looked content. I figured I would speak with him another time. I flew into the air but my ascent turned into a sharp arc and I came crashing back down onto the porch, which started to wake me up! My lucid dream training and instincts kick in and I remember how to save an ending dream: spin in circles. As I started to spin in circles everything goes black. Then I hear the sounds of an old movies real. Slowly then faster the movie real spun in conjunction with me spinning in circles and then I saw different scenes in front of my field of vision. The first image started to come closer but then retreated as if it weren’t the correct one. It faded into the darkness and flickered away. Another image slid from left to right and replaced it; it was a scene of people on a basketball court. Slowly the image came closer and closer until it enveloped me. Then creepily and subtly sounds of basket ball sneakers squeaking on the court invaded my “ears”. I suddenly felt as if someone were sliding a very heavy flooring beneath me, it was sort of like props being placed on stage all around as I lay there unable to move while the scene was being built. Then I heard yelling “yo man! You’re in the way! Get off of the court!” My girls phoned rang and woke me up out of the dream.
All eyes went straight to Ginny, who put a hand to her mouth to hide her smile. “It’s all good,” she assured them. “Rallying the troops is Mike’s superpower.”
Damn, there she was, on the phone, and apparently on millions of television screens. They were talking about her on Fox. Exactly why she’d nearly refused Mike’s offer of a game ticket, until Blip gently reminded her that Mike wanted her here, win or lose, and had no family to invite if she said no. Blip had gone to Game 5, when Mike homered and they stayed up half the night celebrating with the team.
Ginny nervously checked that her jacket was fully zipped. A bright blue Nike jacket Oscar couldn’t object to, hiding a Lawson Cubs jersey she absolutely could not be photographed in.
Open Your Eyes (sequel to Lie With Me and Just Forget the World):
Dusty took out another slip while Mike seethed, his arms crossed firmly over his chest. “Baker sleeps in Lawson’s shirts on the road,” Dusty read.
Ginny’s mouth dropped open, the lie springing immediately to her lips, “I do not.”
“That’s bullshit.” She turned and found Sonny eyeing her with one eyebrow raised, a hint of a smirk on his face. “I’ve knocked on your door at least a dozen times this season to ask you to come to breakfast with the other pitchers. Last season you slept in cute little tank tops and shorts. This season you sleep in a huge men’s undershirt.”
“So?” Her chin tipped up in challenge. She didn’t dare glance at Mike, who probably wasn’t thrilled to hear his shirts called ‘huge.’ “They’re comfortable. And maybe I got tired of you guys creeping on me checking out my pajamas.”
Sonny chuckled. “Nice try. I’ve sat with that man on the bus for five years, showered next to his pasty white ass more times than I can count. Either the shirts smell like him, or you do.”
A thought I had while writing yesterday’s post on moods: Do allistic children have favorites? Are they even capable of genuinely appreciating an item, sensation, or experience?
I ask because my own children, in addition to appearing to have “moods” dictated by such seemingly unrelated criteria as the weather, also seem to form no real attachment to or understanding of anything outside themselves.
For instance, Al Jr.’s current favorite pair of shoes is a pair of black Nikes with bright yellow stripes that his Nan bought him for his birthday. I asked him today why they were his favorite and he said (he is still working on expressive thought, especially in print), “Bobby has the same pair.”
Bobby is his best friend. I’ve seen this happen before: last month, Al was in love with a Spaulding basketball because Bobby had just gotten a basketball hoop in his driveway. This month, I’m not sure Al even knows we own a basketball - and to hear Bobby’s mother tell it, Bobby has forgotten all about it as well. Now they’re both into something called “Mario Kart.”
A normal child - like our youngest, Gracie - would have told me the sneakers were her favorites because they didn’t pinch her toes, or because the stripes reminded her of going to the beach with her Nan and eating lemon ice, or because these were the shoelaces she had in when her Grampy died and now she keeps them switched because if the shoelaces are in the same shoe they were on that day they would be sad. You know, normal associations that indicate a child is developing the capacity to think deeply about her surroundings and possessions.
With Al Jr. and Alia, though, “favorites” seem to depend solely on whether their friends approve or whether they saw the item on television (which seems to me to be an extension of whether their friends approve - television just being a wider circle of “friends”). It’s bizarre.
….I don’t mean that. I love my kids. I really do. But I despair of their ability ever to perceive or understand the world in anything like a normal way. Their ability to sense and associate is clearly impaired. Maybe it’s time I ask their school for accommodations in these areas - their test scores are obviously going to take a hit unless they have more time to think. (Poor focus seems to be closely linked to impairment in sensory perception and association.)
For children who spend a great deal of their time pestering other people to pay attention to them in rigidly stereotyped ways (saying hello, telling stories about their day, etc.), they surely seem to have almost no capacity for forming attachments.