Gym time today: 2 hours.
Total this week: 8 hours.

I really liked the way that Diesel Sweeties described the difference between friends and best friends in this comic.

I need to babysit soon, so I can't write much yet, but I wanted to start this entry because I was reading about ontological guilt in The Discovery of Being and I found it interesting.

May talks about the three different types of ontological guilt:
1. Guilt from "forfeiting one's own potentialities."
2. "...Guilt against one's fellows, arising from the fact that since each of us is an individual, each necessarily perceives his fellow man through his own limited and biased eyes. This means that he always to some extent does violence to the true picture of his fellow man and always to some extent fails fully to understand and meet the other's needs. This is not a question of moral failure or slackness-- though it can indeed be greatly increased by lack of moral sensitivity. It is an inescapable result of the fact that each of us is a separate individuality and has no choice but to look at the world through his own eyes."
3. "'Separation guilt' in relation to nature as a whole."

I feel like the first type is pretty familiar to most people. They know they could do more with their lives, but they don't, and they make up a lot of excuses to cover that up. They say "I can't" when it's really "I won't" and then they accuse you of being insensitive if you try to talk about how they have more control than they want to accept. People don't like to be blamed for the things that go wrong in their lives. Of course they don't. But I think we often go overboard in our attempts to make people comfortable, and people end up existing in these... sort of cocoons of illusion. They see all these limitations on themselves that don't necessarily exist outside of their minds, and they treat them like concrete realities. I have been imagining it this way:

A person sits inside a closed cardboard box. They complain that the box is small and cramped and it's uncomfortable in there. From outside, another person says "Why don't you just stretch out? You don't have to stay in the box. I think you are stronger than it and can break it open if you want to." The person inside the box doesn't see the box as cardboard, because it's dark in there. They feel the walls and say "No, it feels very solid, I think I'm trapped in here. I can't get out. You don't understand."

And then both people end up frustrated. Obviously in my example, the person on the outside is clearly right, and it's not always that way in real life, but it ends up feeling that way to me a lot. The box may be fairly thick and not super easy to break, and maybe the person doesn't know how to use full force because they've spent so long curled up in there, but still, in the end, I think they can get out of the box with enough effort. Maybe not on the first try, maybe not on the fiftieth try, but it is possible.

I remember seeing mental limitations as very concrete before. I think my experiences at St. John's put some cracks in that, though. It was stressful to realize how unlimited things really were, and it's taken me a few years (six years??) to adjust to the new perspective, but things just... feel better. And I feel like I'm fulfilling more of my potential and I don't have as hard a time interacting with people and life and just... yeah. More responsibility, more risk, but more reward.

Song I've been listening to lately to wrap things up:

"Intruder/(Oh) Pretty Woman" by Van Halen.

(Been listening to more classic rock lately because of the radio)

---Edit---

Did Bootcamp tonight, then ran 2.5 miles (8 minute mile pace with a level 1 incline) and walked almost three miles (~4mph, with various inclines). I felt really tired during Bootcamp and struggled to do all the exercises, so I ran/walked afterwards so today would be more productive. Treadmill said I burned 500 calories. Will take that as 400.

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