I was told recently that I tend to notice a lot of superficial things about people, and feel free to talk about them. I tend to disagree, actually, I just tend to notice a lot of things about people, and some of them, people feel are superficial. Others, people feel I’m just conjecturing, as there’s no way I could know those things. Of course, there is no way I could know some things about people; there’s no way to really know how someone is feeling, or what they’re thinking, unless you’re them. But believe it or not, I don’t like getting into semantic arguments with people1, so if I look at someone, or hear someone say something, and say aloud that that person is happy, or sad, or whatever, and then someone counters with “there’s no way you could possibly know that,” I simply agree that there isn’t, and let it drop.
Somewhere along the way a lot of the people I know are incapable of having conversations about things where the people in the conversation have different opinions. Either they start fighting with you, think you are fighting with them, or if a third party, confuse the whole thing with fighting. As a result, I feel sometimes conversation stagnate, as you can only talk about things you both agree on, or have conversations where one person asks questions of another. It’s odd, and I feel it’s hurt my own conversational skills, which I used to pride myself on.2
Anyways, as I kind of got off on a tangent there, over the past couple of days I’ve noticed people on my commute, people who, for different reasons, I felt were interesting, at least to me. So here’s what I’ve noticed about them, starting in reverse chronological order, with this morning:
There’s a girl who, both yesterday and today, is sitting outside on the ferry. She’s the only one out there, as it’s really too cold to be sitting out there, and windy besides (especially on the boat). But you know what? This weekend it was 70 degrees. It’s spring, winter is over, and she’s sitting outside. Even if she freezes her buns off.
Yesterday, I’m getting out of the subway station at work, about to go in and start my day. I see an enormously fat man carrying a number of shopping bags, lumbering his way across the street, having some difficulty. He is grotesquely fat, almost unbelievably so. I’m not a good judge of weight, but I’d guess he was somewhere in-between four and five hundred pounds, and he was shorter than me. I consider seeing if he needs help but, a) I’m on my way to work, b) people who don’t need help doing an annoying task usually get bothered when people offer help, and c) I figured he could honestly use the exercise.
On the train ride in that morning, I’m sitting across from an older lady, perhaps mid-to-late 40’s, not particularly attractive. She starts putting on makeup.
Two seats down from her is a pre-teen girl being accompanied to school by her guardian. This is not the person who usually brings her to school, the person who usually brings her to school is a rather loud homosexual man, who is way too young to be her father. I assume, due to a family resemblance, that this man is either her older brother, or a young uncle. Either way, he seems to be the one taking care of the girl. I assume that the person travelling with the girl today, a huge hulking, bearded, hairy man, who reminds me a bit of Hagrid from the Harry Potter movies, is the partner of the usual guardian, as the man also seems to have a pseudo-parental relationship with the girl, without being old enough to be a parent. I also know this girl goes to school on 12th street. It’s the kind of knowledge you pick up from commuting with the same people every day, nevertheless, I wish I didn’t know it, it seems almost…too intimate a fact for me to know.
They get off at 14th street, along with many other people. The older lady across the way becomes visible for the first time in about ten minutes, and the change the makeup makes is remarkable. She looks about ten years younger, and much less unattractive. The concept of makeup amazes me.
On the way home from work, on the ferry, Joe and I see a group of urban youth, cutting loose and having fun. These youth, from all visual cues, appear to have stepped out of 1991 or so. One of them has a high, Kid and Play-esque flattop, another has an equally high flat-top, with a fade on the sides, plus the flattop comes down in steps, and there are various shapes and patterns carved into his hair. One has Dwayne Wayne flip-shades/glasses, another is dressed like Mushmouth from Fat Albert. I watch for any sign that this is some kind of façade, and see none. I seriously consider following them for a bit, just to see what they’re doing, but unfortunately, I have plans. Also, that would just be creepy of me.
Monday morning, on the train platform on Staten Island, waiting to go to the city, a girl stands near me that doesn’t usually take the train. She is tall, taller than me (at least with her shoes on), and wrapped up tight against the elements that really aren’t bothering anyone else. She’s wearing big tinted sunglasses, and has huge lips that stand out on her general WASP-y appearance. Have you heard of bee-stung lips? These are well beyond that. She looks like she got punched in the mouth, that’s how swollen these things are. I wonder, did she get punched? She’s wearing big sunglasses, perhaps that’s to hide a black eye. Of course, she looks perfectly serene. I chalk it up to likely bad surgery, a la Goldie Hawn.
I realize that those thoughts may read odd, they certainly write that way. But I thought it’d be interesting nonetheless. So there you go.
1. At least, not anymore!
2. Oh, that post on weird things I pride myself on, when will you ever be written?!
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
I've been busy living...
I just saw a commerical on the MLB network, and older commercial, against using steroids. In it, a voiceover tells you that steroids are bad for you, and while that's happening, a bunch of sports balls (a football, a baseball, a basketball, what have you) shrink and shrivel up. The announcer then tells you there's a special bad side effect for the boys out there. A classy commercial, but hey, it's a good message. If you use steroids, your balls will shrivel up.
I haven't written in a while, as I've spent the last two weeks being quite sick, if not the flu, something really close to it. High fever, bad, bad cough, congestion, aches and pains, the whole nine yards. I had to leave work early one day, and I had to call out as well, something I hate to do, as I have so much work to do in a day, it's almost impossible to catch up without working late and/or weekends. But I would have just made errors and such had I tried to work, as well as making myself much worse. As it is, with all the rest I've had, my cough is still around, though it's much, much better.
I'm going to start working out again tomorrow, as I've taken the last two weeks off, having no lung capacity, and generally feeling like crud. But tomorrow is Ash Wednesday, the start of Lent, and it's a good time to start up again. I've lost ten pounds since the beginning of the year, and look to make a big push over the next forty days, to try and make my mark of thirty pounds by August. I'm a third of the way there, but it's only going to get harder.
Usually for Lent, I give up a lot of stuff, like a good Catholic (which I am by no means). But I like the idea of Lent, the sacrifice of things you like and enjoy, to show your understanding of the sacrifices others (mainly Jesus) made for you. Also, I like the triumph of my will over my desires (another strange thing I'm proud of, for that blog post that will always be teased).
So what this year? Usually I give up booze, but with my brother owning a bar, I'm not doing that this year. I'm already not eating junk food, so maybe dessert? Pizza again? Perhaps. I'm giving up ordering in dinner, which will save me money as well, though it'll make dinner boring, as I don't really make dinner all that much. Of course, I could just cook more. Only time will tell.
I've been watching a lot of the MLB network, which is just a great channel, as baseball is everything about America, not only good, not just bad, but everything. The triumph, the desire, the mythos...it's not just the National Pasttime because of it's popularity, it's...well, it's more than that. And thus, my next blog post is born, as I really want to take the time to explain why this sport, that I spent most of developing years, my youth, not paying much attention to at all, has so enraptured my thoughts as an adult.
So there's a bunch of random thoughts and such. I have to say, the last two weeks have been tough ones, and not particularly good over all, but nevertheless, I'm hopeful for the future. But then again, I always am.
I haven't written in a while, as I've spent the last two weeks being quite sick, if not the flu, something really close to it. High fever, bad, bad cough, congestion, aches and pains, the whole nine yards. I had to leave work early one day, and I had to call out as well, something I hate to do, as I have so much work to do in a day, it's almost impossible to catch up without working late and/or weekends. But I would have just made errors and such had I tried to work, as well as making myself much worse. As it is, with all the rest I've had, my cough is still around, though it's much, much better.
I'm going to start working out again tomorrow, as I've taken the last two weeks off, having no lung capacity, and generally feeling like crud. But tomorrow is Ash Wednesday, the start of Lent, and it's a good time to start up again. I've lost ten pounds since the beginning of the year, and look to make a big push over the next forty days, to try and make my mark of thirty pounds by August. I'm a third of the way there, but it's only going to get harder.
Usually for Lent, I give up a lot of stuff, like a good Catholic (which I am by no means). But I like the idea of Lent, the sacrifice of things you like and enjoy, to show your understanding of the sacrifices others (mainly Jesus) made for you. Also, I like the triumph of my will over my desires (another strange thing I'm proud of, for that blog post that will always be teased).
So what this year? Usually I give up booze, but with my brother owning a bar, I'm not doing that this year. I'm already not eating junk food, so maybe dessert? Pizza again? Perhaps. I'm giving up ordering in dinner, which will save me money as well, though it'll make dinner boring, as I don't really make dinner all that much. Of course, I could just cook more. Only time will tell.
I've been watching a lot of the MLB network, which is just a great channel, as baseball is everything about America, not only good, not just bad, but everything. The triumph, the desire, the mythos...it's not just the National Pasttime because of it's popularity, it's...well, it's more than that. And thus, my next blog post is born, as I really want to take the time to explain why this sport, that I spent most of developing years, my youth, not paying much attention to at all, has so enraptured my thoughts as an adult.
So there's a bunch of random thoughts and such. I have to say, the last two weeks have been tough ones, and not particularly good over all, but nevertheless, I'm hopeful for the future. But then again, I always am.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Free Will?
I finished reading a rather good book last week, enititled 13 Things That Don't Make Sense. It's a book describing 13 science conundrums, things that modern science hasn't figured out or can't explain. It was entertaining, and informative, without getting bogged down in too many science details that would confuse the casual reader.
I just had one problem with the book, and that is it's chapter on Free Will. The central conceit of the chapter is that ask any human, and they'll say they have free will; it's a central tenant, not only religion-wise, but society wise, of what seperates us from other creatures, what makes us sentient. However, says the chapter, science seems to have proven that free will doesn't exist.
The book goes on to give examples of how, using magnetic waves, or electric currents applied to the brain, your body could be made to move seemingly of it's own accord, even if you try and stop it from happening. This, apparently, is something akin to what happens to you if you have Parkinson's disease.
This is disturbing, undoubtedly, but the problem is, this isn't a question of free will. Free will could be defined many ways, certainly, and those definitions could clearly be split by semantics, but having a scientist perform a procedure on your brain to get you to move your arm isn't over-riding your free will, it's not making you choose to move your arm. This is akin to a bully grabbing your arm and making you slap yourself with it. Annoying, yes, but your free will allows you to make the choice not to steal a gun and shoot that bully.
The problem with free will and science is that free will is a concept more suited to philosophers, and less to people who study empiric data. It's not something that can be measured, or even really proven. It's a completely subjective motivation, because it's a term used to describe the impetus for things that take place completely inside your head.
Anyways, I just thought that was interesting. Thoughts on free will, or the lack thereof?
Oh, and next time: weird things that I'm proud of!
I just had one problem with the book, and that is it's chapter on Free Will. The central conceit of the chapter is that ask any human, and they'll say they have free will; it's a central tenant, not only religion-wise, but society wise, of what seperates us from other creatures, what makes us sentient. However, says the chapter, science seems to have proven that free will doesn't exist.
The book goes on to give examples of how, using magnetic waves, or electric currents applied to the brain, your body could be made to move seemingly of it's own accord, even if you try and stop it from happening. This, apparently, is something akin to what happens to you if you have Parkinson's disease.
This is disturbing, undoubtedly, but the problem is, this isn't a question of free will. Free will could be defined many ways, certainly, and those definitions could clearly be split by semantics, but having a scientist perform a procedure on your brain to get you to move your arm isn't over-riding your free will, it's not making you choose to move your arm. This is akin to a bully grabbing your arm and making you slap yourself with it. Annoying, yes, but your free will allows you to make the choice not to steal a gun and shoot that bully.
The problem with free will and science is that free will is a concept more suited to philosophers, and less to people who study empiric data. It's not something that can be measured, or even really proven. It's a completely subjective motivation, because it's a term used to describe the impetus for things that take place completely inside your head.
Anyways, I just thought that was interesting. Thoughts on free will, or the lack thereof?
Oh, and next time: weird things that I'm proud of!
Thursday, January 22, 2009
A New York State of Mind...
So earlier today I got an e-mail from one of my ex-girlfriends, a person who I was at one time very close to, and at this time, am very not. Nothing Earth-shattering there, it's the way of things, I guess. Though at one time I prided myself on my good relationships with my exes, that time has long past, and that's a weird thing to pride yourself on anyway. Hmm, perhaps that's another blog post in and of itself.
Anyway, I thought this an odd occurrence, the e-mail that is, because a) I haven't spoken to this girl (really) in years, and b) earlier in the day I was listening to the Billy Joel song "A New York State of Mind" which always makes me feel homesick, even if I'm in New York (a weird phenomenon, I know), but occasionally makes me think of this girl, for no particular reason at all, other than we both used to like Billy Joel.
Without getting too much into details, she was e-mailing me out of the blue because she saw something I mentioned online in regards to her, and thought I was taking a swipe at her. This wasn't the case, so it's unfortunate that she got worked up enough about it that she e-mailed me at work to let me know. But I just find it weird that she e-mailed me at all. I mean, after this amount of time, and what was said the last time we saw each other (more on that in a bit), I would think she could really care less, or at least she wouldn't be bothered to write. I mean, if she, or someone similar to that level of relationship with me, say a friend of mine whom I was close with in high school, but not really since, posted "Tom Cocozza is a retarded jerk-wad, and I hope he rots!" I'd probably be upset, but I likely wouldn't be motivated to get in touch with them and ask them why. And if I did, I likely wouldn't be all confrontational about it. But that's me, I guess.
I don't know what bothers me more, that in the middle of a stressful, busy workday (most of them are) I get an e-mail from someone who hasn't e-mailed me in years telling me to get bent, or the fact that that's the situation I find myself in with this person. I'd like to think the latter, because I like to think of myself as someone who's sentimental, and in touch with their emotions, a real hip, modern guy. More than likely though, it's the former, because I'm really just someone who hates getting all riled up, especially when I'm work. Personal matters are for personal time, and how am I supposed to deal with this stuff when I'm responsible for whatever work I'm supposed to be doing? That's what I want to know.
This is why I hate internet communication. You never have any idea of intent behind what is said, other than what you can read from context. The shorter the message, the more varied the context, and the more complex the thought, the more chance of it being interpreted different ways. This is why real things of import should be discussed face-to-face, or at least over the phone. And...end rant.
Oh, I guess I should mention what happened the last time I really saw this girl, as I alluded to it earlier, and while I understood the sentiment completely, and admired the forthrightness she had in saying it, it still kind of bummed me out for a while. I'm not sure when it was, I'm thinking a year or two ago, I was in Times Square, walking out of Toys 'R' Us, with a purchase for my nephew in a big bag, when literally, out of the blue, I run into this girl in the middle of the crowded sidewalk. This is always one of the more remarkable things about New York City to me, it's huge, with millions of millions of people, and you'll randomly run into someone you know at someplace neither of you knows the other will be. The odds have got to be astronomical, but it happens to me at least once a year.
Anyways, so we hug, and exchange small-talk pleasantries and the like, and since she's meeting her parents for dinner, and I have to get home and do my own things, we quickly part ways. I let her know that while we don't see each other anymore, if she ever wants to hang out, just let me know. We'll work something out. It's not just me, as she used to be friends with some of my friends as well, they'd like to see her too, and all. She responds to me thusly: that she's got her own life now, with her own things going on, and new friends and the like, and really doesn't think that will be happening. Okay. Like I said, got to admire the ability to be straightforward about it, but jeez. I mean, I was only saying what I was saying half out of being polite; it's what you say in situations like that. So I said okay, and went on my way. With the exception of some comments on each other's Facebook pages, that's been pretty much it until today.
Huh.
Ain't life a kick in the pants sometimes?
Still, it isn't all clouds and woe, not by a long shot. One, I got a nice blog entry out of it, so that's good. Two, my annoyance, while making it hard to focus at work, did help the afternoon move faster. Three, I feel I don't have enough chances for introspection, and while this isn't exactly what I would want to focus on, I can't look a gift horse in the mouth in that regard. To know yourself is to know the world, and often times I feel I don't know myself at all. So maybe this'll help in that regard.
Oh, and like Detective Columbo, one last thing. In case he happens to be reading this, "Jason Suslak is a retarded jerk-wad, and I hope he rots!"
Anyway, I thought this an odd occurrence, the e-mail that is, because a) I haven't spoken to this girl (really) in years, and b) earlier in the day I was listening to the Billy Joel song "A New York State of Mind" which always makes me feel homesick, even if I'm in New York (a weird phenomenon, I know), but occasionally makes me think of this girl, for no particular reason at all, other than we both used to like Billy Joel.
Without getting too much into details, she was e-mailing me out of the blue because she saw something I mentioned online in regards to her, and thought I was taking a swipe at her. This wasn't the case, so it's unfortunate that she got worked up enough about it that she e-mailed me at work to let me know. But I just find it weird that she e-mailed me at all. I mean, after this amount of time, and what was said the last time we saw each other (more on that in a bit), I would think she could really care less, or at least she wouldn't be bothered to write. I mean, if she, or someone similar to that level of relationship with me, say a friend of mine whom I was close with in high school, but not really since, posted "Tom Cocozza is a retarded jerk-wad, and I hope he rots!" I'd probably be upset, but I likely wouldn't be motivated to get in touch with them and ask them why. And if I did, I likely wouldn't be all confrontational about it. But that's me, I guess.
I don't know what bothers me more, that in the middle of a stressful, busy workday (most of them are) I get an e-mail from someone who hasn't e-mailed me in years telling me to get bent, or the fact that that's the situation I find myself in with this person. I'd like to think the latter, because I like to think of myself as someone who's sentimental, and in touch with their emotions, a real hip, modern guy. More than likely though, it's the former, because I'm really just someone who hates getting all riled up, especially when I'm work. Personal matters are for personal time, and how am I supposed to deal with this stuff when I'm responsible for whatever work I'm supposed to be doing? That's what I want to know.
This is why I hate internet communication. You never have any idea of intent behind what is said, other than what you can read from context. The shorter the message, the more varied the context, and the more complex the thought, the more chance of it being interpreted different ways. This is why real things of import should be discussed face-to-face, or at least over the phone. And...end rant.
Oh, I guess I should mention what happened the last time I really saw this girl, as I alluded to it earlier, and while I understood the sentiment completely, and admired the forthrightness she had in saying it, it still kind of bummed me out for a while. I'm not sure when it was, I'm thinking a year or two ago, I was in Times Square, walking out of Toys 'R' Us, with a purchase for my nephew in a big bag, when literally, out of the blue, I run into this girl in the middle of the crowded sidewalk. This is always one of the more remarkable things about New York City to me, it's huge, with millions of millions of people, and you'll randomly run into someone you know at someplace neither of you knows the other will be. The odds have got to be astronomical, but it happens to me at least once a year.
Anyways, so we hug, and exchange small-talk pleasantries and the like, and since she's meeting her parents for dinner, and I have to get home and do my own things, we quickly part ways. I let her know that while we don't see each other anymore, if she ever wants to hang out, just let me know. We'll work something out. It's not just me, as she used to be friends with some of my friends as well, they'd like to see her too, and all. She responds to me thusly: that she's got her own life now, with her own things going on, and new friends and the like, and really doesn't think that will be happening. Okay. Like I said, got to admire the ability to be straightforward about it, but jeez. I mean, I was only saying what I was saying half out of being polite; it's what you say in situations like that. So I said okay, and went on my way. With the exception of some comments on each other's Facebook pages, that's been pretty much it until today.
Huh.
Ain't life a kick in the pants sometimes?
Still, it isn't all clouds and woe, not by a long shot. One, I got a nice blog entry out of it, so that's good. Two, my annoyance, while making it hard to focus at work, did help the afternoon move faster. Three, I feel I don't have enough chances for introspection, and while this isn't exactly what I would want to focus on, I can't look a gift horse in the mouth in that regard. To know yourself is to know the world, and often times I feel I don't know myself at all. So maybe this'll help in that regard.
Oh, and like Detective Columbo, one last thing. In case he happens to be reading this, "Jason Suslak is a retarded jerk-wad, and I hope he rots!"
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Weird dreams
For the last few days, I've been having odd, bizarre dreams. Last night was no different. Myself and a group of my friends (Michelle, Dan, Joe, and Brendan) were going to make a movie. This movie, while I'm a bit fuzzy on the plot, involved us live action filming animals, and then doing voice-overs for them. I think the animals were going to try and make a movie themselves, so it was a bit of meta-fiction. All the animals that were voiced by us had "opposite" personalities than the people voicing them, eg Brendan's goose was nice to everyone and was cleaning up after us all, Joe's chipmunk agreed with what everyone said, that sort of thing. Odd.
That's not the really weird part though, not that it gets surreal or anything. In coming up with a script, we decide that the film takes place near a coast, so we want to film in a coastal city, and not New York. Dan, for whatever reason, refuses to travel south, so I suggest we go out to Portland, mixing in a trip to see Devon. Hooray!
We take a train, to save money, and that part goes off without a hitch. As we're getting off the train, we meet Lou Cordani, who's surprised us by taking a plane out and meeting us. We all leave the train station and go to get on a bus, the only bus line there. We don't know where exactly we're going to film, but we decide we'll get on the bus, and get off when we see somewhere cool, then we'll call Devon and tell him to meet us there. Only a bus doesn't come. For like an hour. Then one bus comes, and drives right past us. We all freak out. By this time, there's other people waiting too. Another bus comes, and pulls up a block up the street, and a few people get on, I run after it, but it closes it's doors and pulls away, and I can't chase it down. There's a kid with a briefcase, he's the only one stuck with us waiting now. Everyone's getting antsy. Finally another bus is coming, I stand in the middle of the street to make sure it stops for us, and it does. I get on first, and push my way to the back, as a family of kids are just standing in the middle of the bus, oblivious to bus etiquette. I start yelling at them, and the bus driver tries to close the door on Michelle! I start seriously flipping out at this point, threatening violence. He opens the door, and everyone piles in on each other on the stairs of the bus, then get on and make their way to the back. And we have a surprise appearance, as Joe Jianetto has followed us out as a surprise, wearing an undershirt and a garish, too small, yellow and black checkered sportcoat. He and Lou start having a conversation about how Lou didn't bring boots, and that you should really have boots in this environment.
Then the dream ends and I wake up.
Now this is way too detailed, and complex, for me to believe that it means nothing. The only thing I've got is that J-Rod reminds me a lot of Kramer.
That's not the really weird part though, not that it gets surreal or anything. In coming up with a script, we decide that the film takes place near a coast, so we want to film in a coastal city, and not New York. Dan, for whatever reason, refuses to travel south, so I suggest we go out to Portland, mixing in a trip to see Devon. Hooray!
We take a train, to save money, and that part goes off without a hitch. As we're getting off the train, we meet Lou Cordani, who's surprised us by taking a plane out and meeting us. We all leave the train station and go to get on a bus, the only bus line there. We don't know where exactly we're going to film, but we decide we'll get on the bus, and get off when we see somewhere cool, then we'll call Devon and tell him to meet us there. Only a bus doesn't come. For like an hour. Then one bus comes, and drives right past us. We all freak out. By this time, there's other people waiting too. Another bus comes, and pulls up a block up the street, and a few people get on, I run after it, but it closes it's doors and pulls away, and I can't chase it down. There's a kid with a briefcase, he's the only one stuck with us waiting now. Everyone's getting antsy. Finally another bus is coming, I stand in the middle of the street to make sure it stops for us, and it does. I get on first, and push my way to the back, as a family of kids are just standing in the middle of the bus, oblivious to bus etiquette. I start yelling at them, and the bus driver tries to close the door on Michelle! I start seriously flipping out at this point, threatening violence. He opens the door, and everyone piles in on each other on the stairs of the bus, then get on and make their way to the back. And we have a surprise appearance, as Joe Jianetto has followed us out as a surprise, wearing an undershirt and a garish, too small, yellow and black checkered sportcoat. He and Lou start having a conversation about how Lou didn't bring boots, and that you should really have boots in this environment.
Then the dream ends and I wake up.
Now this is way too detailed, and complex, for me to believe that it means nothing. The only thing I've got is that J-Rod reminds me a lot of Kramer.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Post One - The Adventure Begins: Part One - The Beginning...
Okay, so I've been keeping a log on my laptop highlighting my thoughts on trying to lose weight, as I have made an oath to myself to lose about 30 pounds come my trip to DisneyWorld this August (August 15th, to be exact). Just something to help me keep focused, plus I thought it'd be interesting to look back on it once the job is done.
I'd figured I'd start this blog with an excerpt from that one, edited for details you'd likely have no interest in, like my food-eating plans and such. But there is something fairly amusing in there, so here it is:
1/7/09
I’ve been thinking about doing this for the last few days, and after the events of the last two hours, well, one event to be exact, I thought I really should get to it.
Disney is on August 15, so doing the math today, Dan and I figured it was 219 days. That’s a lot of time, and on the other hand isn’t that much time on all.
This brings me to working out. I haven’t done it that much so far this year, only twice, and I want to get it that up to three times a week in January, moving it up to four times a week in February, and then we’ll take it from there, eventually hopefully getting six or seven days a week of some kind of workout, whether it be running of weight training.
Today it was running, and that’s a funny story…
I have a treadmill in my house, and when I got home before my dad today, I decided to get a quick twenty minute run in (1.5 miles, natch!) before he had to use the room the treadmill was in, as that room also housed two computers, as well as a TV and a rocking chair that my dad relaxed in after work.
So I’m running, for about four minutes, when I feel I might be getting a good rhythm going, so I close my eyes to see if I can keep it up (and to rest my eyes, as I was fairly tired). The moment I do I can feel my strides going all over the place. I pop my eyes open again, but after a quick moment of contemplation, I decide I won’t give up without a fight and try it again. This is because I am brilliant. With my eyes closed…I lose all control of what I’m doing, as if I was running down a wooded path in the dark. My right foot goes right over the back of the treadmill, and the toe of my shoe (and my toe within it) get caught underneath the treadmill belt. I grab the automatic cutoff switch, and go to pull my foot out, but I can’t. As I consider this, I try and figure out how exactly my foot has room to be caught like that anyway. I look down, and sure enough, I’ve kicked my heel right through the wall. My foot was caught like a trap between the treadmill and a stud behind the wall.
Let me repeat that, as I feel it bears repeating. I got my right foot caught not only under the belt of a treadmill, but put it through a wall as well.
I’m sure if I thought about it, it’d seem a metaphor for something. But right now, I’m too tired to see it as anything but funny. Good news/addendum: I didn’t let that stop me, and after disengaging myself from the wall and cleaning off my shoe as to not track drywall everywhere, I got back on and ran 20 minutes.
*******
So there that is. The wall isn't fixed yet but there is a three day weekend coming up. I suppose I'll do it then.
I'd figured I'd start this blog with an excerpt from that one, edited for details you'd likely have no interest in, like my food-eating plans and such. But there is something fairly amusing in there, so here it is:
1/7/09
I’ve been thinking about doing this for the last few days, and after the events of the last two hours, well, one event to be exact, I thought I really should get to it.
Disney is on August 15, so doing the math today, Dan and I figured it was 219 days. That’s a lot of time, and on the other hand isn’t that much time on all.
This brings me to working out. I haven’t done it that much so far this year, only twice, and I want to get it that up to three times a week in January, moving it up to four times a week in February, and then we’ll take it from there, eventually hopefully getting six or seven days a week of some kind of workout, whether it be running of weight training.
Today it was running, and that’s a funny story…
I have a treadmill in my house, and when I got home before my dad today, I decided to get a quick twenty minute run in (1.5 miles, natch!) before he had to use the room the treadmill was in, as that room also housed two computers, as well as a TV and a rocking chair that my dad relaxed in after work.
So I’m running, for about four minutes, when I feel I might be getting a good rhythm going, so I close my eyes to see if I can keep it up (and to rest my eyes, as I was fairly tired). The moment I do I can feel my strides going all over the place. I pop my eyes open again, but after a quick moment of contemplation, I decide I won’t give up without a fight and try it again. This is because I am brilliant. With my eyes closed…I lose all control of what I’m doing, as if I was running down a wooded path in the dark. My right foot goes right over the back of the treadmill, and the toe of my shoe (and my toe within it) get caught underneath the treadmill belt. I grab the automatic cutoff switch, and go to pull my foot out, but I can’t. As I consider this, I try and figure out how exactly my foot has room to be caught like that anyway. I look down, and sure enough, I’ve kicked my heel right through the wall. My foot was caught like a trap between the treadmill and a stud behind the wall.
Let me repeat that, as I feel it bears repeating. I got my right foot caught not only under the belt of a treadmill, but put it through a wall as well.
I’m sure if I thought about it, it’d seem a metaphor for something. But right now, I’m too tired to see it as anything but funny. Good news/addendum: I didn’t let that stop me, and after disengaging myself from the wall and cleaning off my shoe as to not track drywall everywhere, I got back on and ran 20 minutes.
*******
So there that is. The wall isn't fixed yet but there is a three day weekend coming up. I suppose I'll do it then.
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