A few months ago, me and my sister Kelsey decided to join the YMCA. It's nearby, it's affordable, and it has a pool. So, naturally, I dusted off my Target bathing suit and 3-sizes-too-big soccer shorts and jumped in. I quickly discovered, however, that I don't know how to swim. Nor could I learn to do so by watching YouTube videos.

The first time I went, it was with the moral support and audience of Kelsey and Catherine. I doggy paddled, pushed off the wall underwater while pretending to be Ian Thorpe and the pot-smoking-American-Olympian-whose-name-I-can't-think-of-right-now. I tried freestyle a bit, going about 1.5 strokes before choking. The lifeguard, at one point, starting walking toward me to make sure I was OK.

The second time I went I was alone. I tried freestyle again, only to get 1/4 of the way down the half-lap-length-lane before having to flip over and do a back stroke. (To be honest I have no idea if what I'm doing is a true back stroke. I just appreciate having the ability breathe, so I don't care if I look like a moron ... clearly.) This time I caught the life guard actually walking beside my lane as I inched my way down. I was so startled and embarrassed I stopped; Found out she was watching a 6-year-old one lane over do a swim test.

The only ability I seem to have in the pool is producing an inordinate amount of snot and becoming incapacitated by charlie horses. Seriously, I thought I'd had a charlie horse before. FALSE. Now I know. They are a demon from hell ripping its way through your muscles. I couldn't walk for three days. I kid you not. And they always seem to come when I'm in the 8-foot-deep water and the middle lane. My muscles couldn't seize up when I'm in the shallow end next to a ladder. Noooo. That would be too kind.

Michael Phelps! I remembered the pot-smoker's name.


Happy New Year, blah blah blah. I saw this on Facebook the other day and was so enthralled by it. I mean, I couldn't tell you any details about most of the people on the list, but just seeing how people spend (or spent) their time is so simple, but so personal and fascinating. After going through the list of these creative people, I thought to myself, "Hey, I'm creative! I should add my routine to the list." So here you go.

Obviously I need to sleep less and quit my day job in order to become a famous creative. Anyone want to fund me? Mom?

(Seriously, did Mozart EVER sleep? How did he survive? And how did Darwin get so much done in those few hours of dedicated creative work? Or Strauss or Tchaikovsky for that matter?)

Original can be found here: http://www.thisiscolossal.com/2015/01/the-daily-routines-of-famous-creative-people/