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Working it Out

Working it Out

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It’s just before 6 am and I’m at work at a local gym–new job, new town. It doesn’t really feel like I’m working or working out lately. The sun is starting to rise in the east over the Passaic River and its polluted waters. 90s metal is escaping through the open windows onto the side street and my bitter attitude this morning is hoping that these tunes of woe are finding their way into the apartment complexes adjacent to this building. I know, that’s very mean of me. Truthfully, though, I didn’t open the windows or create this Pandora station, or turn up the decibels to overwhelming heights; it’s just a fortunate coincidence given my mood. Or, well, unfortunate for those still trying to sleep like I wish I was.

Two dedicated members get here each morning before I do, not just because I was late today, but because the owner has given them keys so they can get here and start pumping iron well before 5am. These guys are no joke.

The air is crisp this morning, which is a pesky reminder that these summer days and daze are waning. My darling boyfriend just brought me a venti iced soy Caramel Macchiato and a Smashing Pumpkins song just came on so maybe things are looking up. My eyes are starting to open wider.

I was going to write about how every time I think something is starting to work out lately, it has a way of blowing up in my face. But I’m not sure I really know what ‘working out’ really means. Everything works out in one way or another, doesn’t it? Isn’t it odd that the word ‘work’ can have such strong, opposing connotations? “Ugh, I have to work in the morning.” “My phone just started to work again!” “I think my relationship might work out, after all.” And then, of course, “I’m going to the gym to work out.”

The music selection is really working out for me today. (Probably not working too well for the neighbors of the gym.) I should work out today, but I’ll probably just use my down time to work on my schoolwork.

We’re always working on something. Ourselves. Our jobs. Our dreams. Our attitudes about life at 6 am on a Tuesday.  Oh, life. You beautiful little bastard. I feel like I should have more to say, but the sun isn’t fully up yet and I need more time to work on this.

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