Journal log entry – Good posture creeps away from me like a ghost. Now there’s a winning argument for books over e-books. It would be a very expensive lesson in posture with all those Nooks and Kindles falling off of one’s head and smashing onto the floor … but then again, I could see: “The new Nook and Kindle, they give you light in the night and no glare during the day, and now with added straps and a level app to help with your posture too.” Could be … who knows?

But what’s my problem? Am I lazy? I try not to be. I have theories which have forced this habitual battle for a straight back. I mean I don’t have a hump. I just like to lean forward. When I was younger, a kid, I remember this bully in the neighborhood, and he strutted with his chest thrown out and his shoulders back like your stereotypical cartoon character who is going to pummel someone. His name was Paul. I just remember how stupid Paul looked, and traumatized by how stupid Paul looked, I made a mental note, with permanent marker I guess, that I wasn’t going to look stupid like Paul if I could help it. I honestly to this day am conscious of that, and I believe it has hindered me and my posture. Am I bitter that Paul ruined my posture?!!!

Not how a bully usually traumatizes people, I know.

Now I’m not tall at five feet seven inches, but I feel like things are low. Anybody else? Or am I just imagining that? If I’m sitting completely up and the visor is down in the car, because of the sun, I can’t see the road. I have to lean forward. Some might say, “Recline the seat back.” But that puts me at arms-length from the steering wheel. I like to be close to things, and having my arms straight out like that will have me looking like Frankenstein’s monster. I want to look relaxed, not uptight. Too many people are stressed and uptight, maybe that’s who the car companies cater to.

When I’m washing dishes I feel like the faucet is not high enough, so I bend. Wait, a thought came to me: Dishes perhaps too heavy, try paper. That’s terrible, maybe I am lazy.

If the sink was higher I could rest my elbows when I washed the dishes. Note to myself: Damn, you are lazy.

Oh stop that. I am not. Next.

I don’t care to brag about myself (as if I had something to brag about), and so when I’m walking about, I don’t want to send out a signal that says, “Look at me.” either. But I have this impression that if I lean back, that’s what I’ll be saying. Note: Is that because good posture in itself is attractive, and Quasimodo might have won the girl if he’d only straightened up? Huh … go figure. Well, I don’t want to come across as ugly, even with people not looking at me. But what am I to do?

I mean I start out with good intentions, just like now, when I originally sat to write this post, I was aware of keeping my back vertical, but as I’m typing the word “vertical,” I realize that I’m not. It seems that I have to make a conscious effort to keep a good posture, and so when I get too engrossed in something else other than that, my body forgets. Maybe the cure to my problem is to make the rest of my life really, really … boring. That way I have no distractions. But can I walk and chew gum at the same time? Yes, I can. So, can I walk and keep a good posture? I don’t know how to answer that without lying. It’s something of a mish-mash. I’m up. I’m down. I’m up. I’m down, like a very slow bout with the hiccoughs, remembering, forgetting, remembering, forgetting …

There … sorry.

Oh bother … I meant: but to myself.

A final note: Being “Laid back” is relaxed, so back is not slouching forward, which means there must be a lack of uptightness somewhere at ninety degrees from earth … and if so … then that is my mission … my quest … to find it … and to also try and do it while I’m trying to keep my back straight. Oh Lord, if it could only be as easy as walking and chewing gum. Wait, I’ve got it.

“Roger, imagine your back is chewing gum, and you’re stretching it up to the sun.” Did you ever have an exercise class where they told you things like that? … I did.

… What? You think it’s that hopeless, do you?

Signing off,

Roger and out