Nights alone are weird. Marc gets home tomorrow from Minnesota. I drank a cold brew at 11:30pm and now I’m cleaning the house and manically reorganizing my textbooks and scores. I start school back up in about 4 weeks and I don’t know what’s happening with my student teaching placement that starts in August and that is making me anxious. Also the fact that I’m not that confident in my abilities. Those kids are going to see right through me. Everyone is. They’re going to know I’m a fraud. I wish I was more talented. I wish I had more grit. I wish I wasn’t a big fat baby. Hopefully when I actually start doing it, these fears will go away. “Fake it ‘til you make it” has been the mantra that got me this far. Maybe I’ll always be faking it, but at least that’s one thing I’m good at.
Could someone explain bikini/figure competitions to me like I’m five? I do not understand the appeal of spending thousands of dollars to stand on stage all bronzed, dehydrated, and starving to be judged with ridiculously subjective criteria. I get that people like to have a goal to work towards, but slaving away and eating nothing but dry ass chicken so that you can achieve super low body fat for like a second, only to return to normal afterward (because nobody is supposed to be that lean) doesn’t seem like a healthy goal to work toward.
- bro1: i'm not on an unstructured bro-split, i'm just doing what Aragorn would do.
- bro2: Aragorn spent 80 years fucking around and nearly lost his elven princess and his shot at being the king, until Gandalf put him on the 'Walk to Mordor' program and just generally gripped his shit.