Could this be the perfect workout for writers?
Some people love going to the gym. I am not one of those people. The gym seems like hell to me, mainly because I’m not doing anything. Picking up a heavy object and putting it down again or running in place on a treadmill just feels pointless. And if something doesn’t have a purpose, I won’t do it.
So I don’t exercise. Ever. Instead, I move my body. I do activities. I go places. I play.
I have one of these instead of a desk.
I walk to the library or the bank or the post office. Anything within two miles of my house is considered walking distance and most things I need are in that zone. Shoveling snow or weeding the garden gives me the satisfaction of a job well done.
And then I discovered shovelgloving. It changed everything. I’m actually doing weight training and I like it.
Shovelgloving is when you take an old sledgehammer, (the shovel) and wrap an old sweater around it (the glove) and use that tool to perform the kinds of moves you’d use in everyday life. You bend and twist as if you’re shoveling snow or lifting boxes or chopping wood.
It’s functional fitness, meaning that you’re building the muscles you’ll need for life, not to achieve some kind of idealized gym body. Maybe I won’t be the cutest zombie killer in the coming age, but I’ll be the most badass.
I kid, I kid. But only a little. Because while shovelgloving is extremely practical, it’s also fun. To me, it’s the ultimate roleplay. The originator of shovelgloving encourages this, although he thinks you should pretend to do very boring things like pitching hay or stoking a fire.
But if you’re going to swing a ridiculous sweater-covered sledgehammer around, why not have fun with it? When I move this way, I’m smiting orcs. When I move that way, I’m canoeing down a mighty river. When I’m shovelgloving, I’m pulling the rope that will ring the cathedral bells or digging my way to freedom or lighting the top of the bonfire.
I’m a practical gal, but I’m also a writer with a vibrant imagination. I never want to exercise. I just want to move around and tell myself stories. Shovelgloving is the perfect activity.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think there might be some monsters in my basement. Or maybe some buried treasure I need to dig up. Who knows what might be down there? But I’ve got a sweater-wrapped, eight-pound sledgehammer to take on another epic adventure.
About the Author: Alex Kourvo is a freelance editor. She has never belonged to a gym.
A pretty ring, quick thinking, and the best moment of my weekend.
I went to a great science fiction convention last weekend. I learned new things, got inspired, and hung out with friends old and new.
At one point, I wandered into the dealer’s room, which was filled with geeky things for sale. I admired the Firefly and Star Trek t-shirts, flipped through some awesome-looking books, and ended up at my favorite jeweler’s table, which was my ultimate destination all along. I was pretty sure I’d be bringing a new ring home with me.
As I tried on rings and chatted with the jeweler, a man sidled up to me and inserted himself into the conversation. This would usually be an okay thing to do. People are very friendly at cons and we enjoy the small talk. But this guy was interrupting a nice conversation between two women, and he was critiquing my choice of jewelry.
I ignored him. I ignored him hard. No eye contact. Shoulders turned away. I was going to buy myself something pretty, and I didn’t need him to tell me what that was.
Then the “conversation” took a weird turn, and my new “friend” told me that he was surprised that a woman would buy a ring for herself. That’s when I quickly paid for my selection, slipped the ring on my finger, and got out of there. I recognize negging when I hear it, and I didn’t want to give this guy the satisfaction of a response.
I sat on a nearby bench and took out my phone. A moment later, he was standing in front of me. “Well?” he said. “Let me see the ring you bought.”
I was wearing it on my middle finger and I should have flipped him the bird. But I held up my whole hand instead.
“Very nice!” he said. “I approve.”
And that’s when I had my best moment of the weekend.
Because usually things like this make me tongue-tied. I usually think of the right thing to say hours—or even days—later. Not this time. This time, the right words came immediately out of my mouth. I even nailed the tone of voice. Not mean, not defensive, just completely deadpan. Just telling it like it is.
I didn’t even look at him. I kept my eyes on my phone. “Don’t need your approval, buddy.”
There was a moment of surprised silence as he backed away a step. Then another. Then he turned tail and fled.
Honestly, I was not trying to be mean or put him in his place. I was simply stating a fact. But it got me thinking. Why do men do this?
Why do they assume their opinion is always welcomed and their approval always needed?
Why do they insert themselves into conversations and talk over women and mainsplain things to people who know more than they do?
Why do they think random women can be negged into interacting with them?
And could they just…you know…not?
About the Author: Alex Kourvo is an editor-for-hire. She likes to buy herself pretty things, and doesn’t need anyone’s approval to do so.
“It’s like the Discovery Channel…with beer.”
Once a month, nerds gather at their favorite bars to see a trio of 20-minute talks about…well…everything. It’s called Nerd Nite and it happens in cities all across the country. Because I live in a college town, and our Nerd Nite is sponsored by our library, we get a wide range of topics. I’ve attended talks about the science of LED light bulbs, how to critique architecture, and why fruit flies love cake. You never know what you’re going to get at Nerd Nite. Sometimes it’s history, sometimes it’s physics, sometimes it’s…me.
In October, I was a featured speaker at Ann Arbor’s Nerd Nite talking about everyone’s favorite science fiction genre—cyberpunk!
Cyberpunk was everywhere in the 1980s. It started in science fiction, but it influenced fashion, movies, comics, games, advertising, and architecture. After a decade of high-tech, neon-colored, future-looking pop culture, cyberpunk just…went away. Or did it? Could cyberpunk stories still be with us, hiding in plain sight?
Our awesome Ann Arbor District Library taped the talk for their collection, and you can watch the video right on their site.
So if you want to see me nerd out about the genre I love best, here’s the video you never knew you needed.
About the Author: Alex Kourvo is a freelance editor. She loves seeing people nerd out about their passions.
[Photo: Lara Zielin]