I’m done with my Daily CSS Images challenge and have found that I have missed writing. Following a link from a Medium post, I came across 750words.com and wrote my first piece. They tell you not to edit, so I didn’t. One thing I learned is that I did this in under 30 minutes. I can afford 30 minutes. I had assumed daily writing challenges would take longer. I love math; I love to write. This is perfect for me because of stats: Pretty graphs and yummy pie charts
750words Day 1
I know that some people look at my wrist and see the Fitbit and roll their eyes. I don’t care too much about counting my steps; I walk my dogs nearly every day and run every other day. I also do not care about opinions of others for the most part. What my Fitbit does for me is to remind me to get up and out of my 90-degree angles. While I’m underemployed and looking for a job, I am at my laptop coding, learning more about code, applying, and regretting. At 10 before the hour, my Fitbit rattles me to inform me to dance. Yup. If I’ve not done enough, I get reminded. I shout to Alexa to play 80s pop, and then I dance. I get more steps in with 5 – 10 minutes of dancing than I do walking around the block, AND I get to do this in an air-conditioned house. Sorry, Mme Ozone.
Where are the places to dance for the length of a normal song? I don’t want anything extended or remixed. I want the living room I danced in when I was a kid before I could go out. Where are those places? I do not have the attention span for a long dance-remix. I also want to hear the lyrics. I don’t mind remixes found in dance places; however, for me, those are better in spin classes when I need the distraction for 10 minutes. What I want is to dance for 3 minutes one way and change it up for another. Remixes are just hell for me. I’M DONE WITH THIS BEAT!
It’s not fun to dance alone, but I’m not. I have the unappreciative and wary audience of pets. I figure they look at me like a toy that is too big to kill the squeak. They track me, though. I see it in their eyes. They are entertained. No. I’m not anthropomorphising. They watch. They wag. When I’m done, they come up for attention. It’s change; it’s movement; it’s always different.
The other side of this Fitbit exercise is a graph I have kept in my head. I have become curious as to what songs get more steps in per minute. These are my steps and my moods. Obviously, this is not scientific in any way, but it’s fun. I’d be curious to compare the songs against others but also against each other and see if there are large variations.
Did I mention save it? My grandpa was Paul Cassidy, a ghost writer for Superman in the late 30s. He left Supe for a better paying job as a teacher. I know. Don’t laugh. He also read history for fun and illustrated scenes he read. Where are those? Deep in a landfill. When he moved into his retirement home, he threw it all away. His right—I give him that—but what a loss for his family and others.
So while others may see another middle-aged woman with a Fitbit to count steps she thinks will counter what she eats, I know this buzzer reminds me to get up, dance, and let my mind wander. On that note, Cyndi Lauper is reminding me that girls still just want to have fun.