I've been accepted as a co-host of the Triathlon Podcast! This is a huge honor for me and I plan to really bring some great content to the show. Hear my introductory interview here....
http://lifestylepodnetwork.com.au/multisportspodcast/tmsp-ep023-the-wildman-tcjp-ep183/
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Monday, January 31, 2011
Why did I do this?
Most of my friends have an online presence. In my mind, anyone who goes to the trouble of creating such a work deserves to have it looked at. When I get something like a friend request on Facebook, or a follow notification on Twitter (or Foursquare), I go look that person up. If they have a blog I go read some of it. If I like it, I subscribe to it. I read their profiles on places like Facebook, Twitter, Linked-in, Yelp and Google.
While perusing a profile of someone I had recently established online communication with I saw that she had participated in National Blog Posting Month, AKA NaBloPoMo. It was mid-December and the topic for January was "Friends." Friends are one of my most valued assets in life. I knew writing 30 essays on friends would be a big challenge, but if you know me, you know that I'm the kind of guy who will answer a challenge.
You can check out the national blog posting month website at http://www.nablopomo.com/
I have to say this about it though, the organization did not provide me with much in the way of support or motivation. In fact I was quite deflated by the absence of support and motivation. The existence of the website is nothing but a figurehead to solidify my commitment to the act. There was something else that I did every single day in January, and that was to take a photograph and post it online. The impetus for that was a request from an online friend. You can see the 31 pictures I took here, and you can meet the person who issued the challenge here.
It was a whole lot easier to take 31 pictures and post them than it was to write 31 articles on friends and friendship. The experience gave me many new insights into what friendship is to me, and what it is to my friends. I experienced many feelings as a result. Sadness over friendship lost. Anger over judgments made against me, and friendships lost as a result. Joy over the value of friendship. Delight at the seeming admiration of some of my friends. Disappointment at the seeming disdain of others. I was enlightened by the way I had to examine friendship, and frequently awakened by the discoveries I made. I struggled with subject matter and how to preserve the privacy and anonymity of my friends. Finding ways to present the myriad feelings without exposing their foibles or throwing them under the bus in front of everyone.
In the end I decided that it is what it is and no amount of sugar coating would ever change that. So I wrote the truth, I gave you my opinions; my insights; my feelings; and above all my candor.
I know some of the things I wrote would have angered some of you (had you made the effort to read them). I was and still am prepared to lose some friendships over having done this. If that happens, I won't feel good about it, but that is life.
Some of these articles have been pretty decent, some have been crap. Almost all have been a struggle to to write. Just finding topics has been a chore. I know my treatment of some of the subject matter has been questionable, or revealing, or just plain whack.
Most valuable lesson learned
I really like having lots of friends. I wish I had more. Of the ones I do have, I wish we were closer.
Most unexpected lesson learned
Doing anything every single day is hard! Especially if it's writing! Here's the thing, I begin every day by writing anyway. Yelp reviews, message board posts, Facebook posts, Twitter posts, Instructables...the list goes on and on. I have long believed that the best way to start your day is to do something creative. Writing is something that comes naturally to me and I enjoy it. It's an easy way to kickstart the brain. So you can imagine how surprised I was as I sat there each day drawing a complete blank.
I suddenly have a much greater appreciation for my friends who are professional writers. My admiration for you has increased tenfold...and I now wish we were much closer friends. You know who you are.
Will I do it again?
Maybe. It depends on the subject matter and the reason. Just as my epic mountain biking trips improve my riding, this literary marathon has improved my writing. Some of you know I have several concepts for novels. I've even laid extensive groundwork for a few of them. this experience has moved me closer to completing at least one of them. Even more of you know that I am pretty good at writing instructions on how to do things. Many of you have seen my work at Instructables. I think this effort has taken me to a new level and I am finally ready to finish a major work.
If I do, you my friends, will be the first to know!
If you want to see any of the older work on this blog, just click on the blog title at the top and you can go all the way back to the very beginning.
Thanks for looking. Stay tuned because this was my blog before NaBloPoMo and it continues to be now that it's over. I now return you to our regularly scheduled programming...more videos!
While perusing a profile of someone I had recently established online communication with I saw that she had participated in National Blog Posting Month, AKA NaBloPoMo. It was mid-December and the topic for January was "Friends." Friends are one of my most valued assets in life. I knew writing 30 essays on friends would be a big challenge, but if you know me, you know that I'm the kind of guy who will answer a challenge.
You can check out the national blog posting month website at http://www.nablopomo.com/
I have to say this about it though, the organization did not provide me with much in the way of support or motivation. In fact I was quite deflated by the absence of support and motivation. The existence of the website is nothing but a figurehead to solidify my commitment to the act. There was something else that I did every single day in January, and that was to take a photograph and post it online. The impetus for that was a request from an online friend. You can see the 31 pictures I took here, and you can meet the person who issued the challenge here.
It was a whole lot easier to take 31 pictures and post them than it was to write 31 articles on friends and friendship. The experience gave me many new insights into what friendship is to me, and what it is to my friends. I experienced many feelings as a result. Sadness over friendship lost. Anger over judgments made against me, and friendships lost as a result. Joy over the value of friendship. Delight at the seeming admiration of some of my friends. Disappointment at the seeming disdain of others. I was enlightened by the way I had to examine friendship, and frequently awakened by the discoveries I made. I struggled with subject matter and how to preserve the privacy and anonymity of my friends. Finding ways to present the myriad feelings without exposing their foibles or throwing them under the bus in front of everyone.
In the end I decided that it is what it is and no amount of sugar coating would ever change that. So I wrote the truth, I gave you my opinions; my insights; my feelings; and above all my candor.
I know some of the things I wrote would have angered some of you (had you made the effort to read them). I was and still am prepared to lose some friendships over having done this. If that happens, I won't feel good about it, but that is life.
Some of these articles have been pretty decent, some have been crap. Almost all have been a struggle to to write. Just finding topics has been a chore. I know my treatment of some of the subject matter has been questionable, or revealing, or just plain whack.
Most valuable lesson learned
I really like having lots of friends. I wish I had more. Of the ones I do have, I wish we were closer.
Most unexpected lesson learned
Doing anything every single day is hard! Especially if it's writing! Here's the thing, I begin every day by writing anyway. Yelp reviews, message board posts, Facebook posts, Twitter posts, Instructables...the list goes on and on. I have long believed that the best way to start your day is to do something creative. Writing is something that comes naturally to me and I enjoy it. It's an easy way to kickstart the brain. So you can imagine how surprised I was as I sat there each day drawing a complete blank.
I suddenly have a much greater appreciation for my friends who are professional writers. My admiration for you has increased tenfold...and I now wish we were much closer friends. You know who you are.
Will I do it again?
Maybe. It depends on the subject matter and the reason. Just as my epic mountain biking trips improve my riding, this literary marathon has improved my writing. Some of you know I have several concepts for novels. I've even laid extensive groundwork for a few of them. this experience has moved me closer to completing at least one of them. Even more of you know that I am pretty good at writing instructions on how to do things. Many of you have seen my work at Instructables. I think this effort has taken me to a new level and I am finally ready to finish a major work.
If I do, you my friends, will be the first to know!
If you want to see any of the older work on this blog, just click on the blog title at the top and you can go all the way back to the very beginning.
Thanks for looking. Stay tuned because this was my blog before NaBloPoMo and it continues to be now that it's over. I now return you to our regularly scheduled programming...more videos!
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Friends of the future.
Having examined the subject of friendship in so many different ways over the last 30 days, I've become aware of some new ways to look at it. I've received what I consider to be some incredible support from (some) people who I didn't consider to be particularly close friends, and I want to thank you all for that. I've also written some pretty profound verbiage in the hope that certain individuals would see it and gain insight into my life as a result...moreover, insight into how I felt about them and how I wish they felt about me. Sadly, I don't think the more poignant revelations I put out ever reached their intended audience. They remain here, immortalized in perpetuity in case those individuals should ever stumble upon this work. Not a likely scenario. In the end, like most things on the Internet, this work is just meaningless drivel. Some of you might get something out of it, but most of you won't. Most of the people I know will never even see it. If I should ever do something that really impacts the world someone will dredge this up and cite these writings as a testament to the kind of person I am (or was).
I have no illusions about being famous, or even leaving a big mark on the world. In my mind, that which most of us consider to be important is really meaningless. Things like what you do for a living; what any news organization has to say about anything; what is legal; and above all what your religious morality dictates to you is right and wrong. None of these things provide shade on a hot summer day, but a tree will for decades to come. Most of these things will bring little (if any) enjoyment into a person's life, but those bike rides sure did. Most of these things will not bring peace to a stranger's troubled spirit, but some of this writing or some of the music I play might.
Having passed the one third mark of my life ten years ago, I've given much thought to mortality lately, and with it what kind of legacy I will leave behind. I don't care if people say I was a dick, as long as they remember that I lead a whole lot of really fun bike rides. I don't care if people thought I was an asshole, as long as someone enjoys the shade of the trees I've planted. Finally, I don't even care if people think I was some sort of whack job as long as I provide something, somewhere that will change a person's life for the better.
That said, let me offer you my friends some advice.
Do what you want to do, and do it now!
I spent the first 30 years of my life thinking: "Some day I'm going to..." "Some day" like the song says, never comes. If you can do it now, God dammit do it now! If you can't, find a way to do it soon!
Don't care what other people think!
I've said this before. We all have lots of friends who love us just the way we are. They're going to keep loving us just the way we are, no matter what we do. If they don't, and this will happen to all of us, let it go. I am saddened by lost friendships, but to me they seem inevitable. If you tell me you're gay, or you've become a vegetarian (or worse a Democrat), or anything short of having picked up the NaMBLA banner...I'm still going to love you. We are not here to judge each other. When we do, that is what ends our friendships.
Do good things in the world!
Too many of you are spending way too much time watching reruns of Matlock. Get off your god damn asses and get out there! Volunteer. Help your neighbors. Help strangers. Help somebody. If you see a guy holding a sign that says: "why lie I need a beer." Give the bum a dollar! If you're walking down the street and you see a lot of homeless people, pop into the next McDonald's and get five or ten double cheeseburgers. They're only 99¢. Hand them out. Whatever you choose, do something completely selfless, something that only benefits others...and do it regularly. Make an impact in the world, even if (especially if) nobody ever recognizes you for it.
Finally, and this may be the most important piece of advice I offer.
Never...and I mean NEVER...take a sleeping pill and a laxative on the same night.
I may never know these friends of the future, but I leave this work for them to consider.
Be well my friends. Tomorrow's posting will be on the subject of having written these last 30 essays.
I have no illusions about being famous, or even leaving a big mark on the world. In my mind, that which most of us consider to be important is really meaningless. Things like what you do for a living; what any news organization has to say about anything; what is legal; and above all what your religious morality dictates to you is right and wrong. None of these things provide shade on a hot summer day, but a tree will for decades to come. Most of these things will bring little (if any) enjoyment into a person's life, but those bike rides sure did. Most of these things will not bring peace to a stranger's troubled spirit, but some of this writing or some of the music I play might.
Having passed the one third mark of my life ten years ago, I've given much thought to mortality lately, and with it what kind of legacy I will leave behind. I don't care if people say I was a dick, as long as they remember that I lead a whole lot of really fun bike rides. I don't care if people thought I was an asshole, as long as someone enjoys the shade of the trees I've planted. Finally, I don't even care if people think I was some sort of whack job as long as I provide something, somewhere that will change a person's life for the better.
That said, let me offer you my friends some advice.
Do what you want to do, and do it now!
I spent the first 30 years of my life thinking: "Some day I'm going to..." "Some day" like the song says, never comes. If you can do it now, God dammit do it now! If you can't, find a way to do it soon!
Don't care what other people think!
I've said this before. We all have lots of friends who love us just the way we are. They're going to keep loving us just the way we are, no matter what we do. If they don't, and this will happen to all of us, let it go. I am saddened by lost friendships, but to me they seem inevitable. If you tell me you're gay, or you've become a vegetarian (or worse a Democrat), or anything short of having picked up the NaMBLA banner...I'm still going to love you. We are not here to judge each other. When we do, that is what ends our friendships.
Do good things in the world!
Too many of you are spending way too much time watching reruns of Matlock. Get off your god damn asses and get out there! Volunteer. Help your neighbors. Help strangers. Help somebody. If you see a guy holding a sign that says: "why lie I need a beer." Give the bum a dollar! If you're walking down the street and you see a lot of homeless people, pop into the next McDonald's and get five or ten double cheeseburgers. They're only 99¢. Hand them out. Whatever you choose, do something completely selfless, something that only benefits others...and do it regularly. Make an impact in the world, even if (especially if) nobody ever recognizes you for it.
Finally, and this may be the most important piece of advice I offer.
Never...and I mean NEVER...take a sleeping pill and a laxative on the same night.
I may never know these friends of the future, but I leave this work for them to consider.
Be well my friends. Tomorrow's posting will be on the subject of having written these last 30 essays.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Reflections on trust of a close friend.
When I got out of the Army in 1981, on the way back here to Sacramento from El Paso,I stopped in Phoenix. I remember that I really liked Phoenix. It was so cosmopolitan, especially in comparison to Sacramento. I felt like it had all the glamour of San Francisco...without the stink. I wanted to live there. I had my 1976 gremlin and $185 in my pocket. I looked around for a place to live and couldn't find anything. I looked around for a place to work and couldn't find anything. In 1981 I was a pretty good looking guy. I would often hear people say: "hey, that guy looks just like Chuck Norris." but in Phoenix Arizona I couldn't even get laid at the punk rock bar. After a few days of kicking around town, not finding anything (and I mean absolutely nothing), I decided to return home to Sacramento.
My parents let me move back in, my old girlfriend started to letting me have sex with her again and all my friends were right where I had left them. The joint I left in my stash box was even still there. My little brother did lose my hash pipe which kind of pissed me off, but I was home and everything felt good. Everything was right back to normal. The same old stagnant life that I left.
Living with the parents had its drawbacks. No privacy. I had to be quiet at night. My guests had to be polite. The list went on and on, and these things are serious detractors when you're 21. I was back to banging the gal that I would eventually marry, and we decided to move in together. I asked my dad for enough money to move in to an apartment and he gave it to me. Before I knew it I was living with a gal and we were on our own.
A few months later, with the onset of winter, I got sick. Those of you who know me well, know that I don't fear much. The one thing that has always struck fear into my heart has been illness. You can't see it and you can't kick it's ass. Most of the time, you're completely in its grip before you even know it. I asked the woman I was living with, as I felt the illness enveloping me: "if I get really sick, will you take care of me?" She said she would. Why didn't I know that?
This was the first of a long series of indicators that I did not and should not trust her. In the years that followed she repeatedly reinforced the fact that I should not trust her...but I did. Not so much because I loved her or anything like that. It was more just because she was the one who was there. A pretty sad reason to trust someone, if I do say so myself.
Fast-forward to 1995. That woman was now history and there was a new one in my life. Having realized that you can't fix stupid, I had made a vow to only date highly intelligent women. I think I've stuck to that fairly well through the years. I was living with a cute little size 2 brunette who knew Morse code and advanced mathematics. I was pretty happy with her, but after living together for eight months, she said to me: "all you want is cheap rent and poon-tang." I told her that if that was the way she really felt, then I needed to move. She said that was the way she really felt. So the next day I began looking for a new apartment and I was gone in a week. I left because I knew she did not trust me. Whatever I felt for her didn't matter. If she didn't trust me, this could never work. For the record, I really was in love with her.
Fast-forward to 1998. Another opportunity presented itself. I had met someone in dance class, and it looked like a really fantastic situation. After several months of dating she mentioned to me that she had been looking at a condominium. She was telling me all about it. How nice it was. What a great location. She was going on and on about it. Finally I asked her something, I don't remember how the words came out, but I remember that her response was: "for us to live in." I had no idea she was ready to take our relationship to that level. The fact of the matter is I hadn't even given it any thought, but the moment I heard her say those words they sounded good to me. I didn't need to be convinced. So we moved in together.
Over the next 20 months I came to realize that deep down inside she didn't trust me. She trusted me to be her lover. She trusted me to cook for her and take her on really fantastic dates. She trusted me to provide a strong lead in dance and a soft touch by the fire, but she didn't trust me to not try and overpower her (one of those control issues). The fact of the matter is I don't think she trusted any man in that way, ever.
I also came to realize that I did not trust her. I trusted her to follow my lead and accompany me on a really fantastic date, but sadly I could also trust her to explode with raging anger over the silliest little infractions I made. Our concepts of sexuality were a bit of a mismatch too. Had this one thing not been true we might still be together today. During the time we were together it was as though I could see into her brain, and she was thinking: "Holy Shit! What have I gotten myself into?" If only she could have released her inner slut, everything would have been fine. That was apparently just a little too far "out of the box" for her.
Fast forward to 2004. A good friend of mine was preparing to move to France. The housing market was at its peak and he was selling his house to realize a massive cash windfall. He was going to use this money to live in France and enjoy life...and he did. Before he left I asked him to leave his piano with me. I promised him that I would have it tuned twice a year, polish it every week and learn to play it. I told him it would be fully insured and he could find no finer care for it than leaving it with me. I told him the reason I wanted him to do this was to ensure that he returned and reestablished our friendship. He appreciated the thought, but would not leave his piano with me. Instead, he crammed it into his mother's house where they already had three other pianos. He did not trust me that much. He did however trust me to a lesser extent. He gave me his walking stick. And this was not just any walking stick. It was handmade from some sort of exotic wood. Some kind of tree that rarely grows in the frozen wastelands. The results is a kind of hardwood that is stronger than Rattan. For those of you who don't know it, Rattan is a kind of bamboo that is practically unbreakable. I still have it today.
My friend went to France and lived the life of a Frenchman. Eating French food, drinking French wine and smoking French cigarettes. One day I was sitting at Gonul's J Street café, which is coincidentally around the corner from his mother's house, and he came walking by. He had returned and I didn't even know it. So much for his keepsake maintaining a bond between us. He was deep in the throes of suffering the ravages of emphysema. He could barely breathe to speak. I was saddened by the sight. I made sure he still had my contact information and he went on his way. Months passed and I never called...now afraid to hear that he has died, I still don't call. I won't even call our mutual friends for the same reason.
Reflections on trust. I think that's enough for today. Tomorrow will be my last posting on the subject of friends.
My parents let me move back in, my old girlfriend started to letting me have sex with her again and all my friends were right where I had left them. The joint I left in my stash box was even still there. My little brother did lose my hash pipe which kind of pissed me off, but I was home and everything felt good. Everything was right back to normal. The same old stagnant life that I left.
Living with the parents had its drawbacks. No privacy. I had to be quiet at night. My guests had to be polite. The list went on and on, and these things are serious detractors when you're 21. I was back to banging the gal that I would eventually marry, and we decided to move in together. I asked my dad for enough money to move in to an apartment and he gave it to me. Before I knew it I was living with a gal and we were on our own.
A few months later, with the onset of winter, I got sick. Those of you who know me well, know that I don't fear much. The one thing that has always struck fear into my heart has been illness. You can't see it and you can't kick it's ass. Most of the time, you're completely in its grip before you even know it. I asked the woman I was living with, as I felt the illness enveloping me: "if I get really sick, will you take care of me?" She said she would. Why didn't I know that?
This was the first of a long series of indicators that I did not and should not trust her. In the years that followed she repeatedly reinforced the fact that I should not trust her...but I did. Not so much because I loved her or anything like that. It was more just because she was the one who was there. A pretty sad reason to trust someone, if I do say so myself.
Fast-forward to 1995. That woman was now history and there was a new one in my life. Having realized that you can't fix stupid, I had made a vow to only date highly intelligent women. I think I've stuck to that fairly well through the years. I was living with a cute little size 2 brunette who knew Morse code and advanced mathematics. I was pretty happy with her, but after living together for eight months, she said to me: "all you want is cheap rent and poon-tang." I told her that if that was the way she really felt, then I needed to move. She said that was the way she really felt. So the next day I began looking for a new apartment and I was gone in a week. I left because I knew she did not trust me. Whatever I felt for her didn't matter. If she didn't trust me, this could never work. For the record, I really was in love with her.
Fast-forward to 1998. Another opportunity presented itself. I had met someone in dance class, and it looked like a really fantastic situation. After several months of dating she mentioned to me that she had been looking at a condominium. She was telling me all about it. How nice it was. What a great location. She was going on and on about it. Finally I asked her something, I don't remember how the words came out, but I remember that her response was: "for us to live in." I had no idea she was ready to take our relationship to that level. The fact of the matter is I hadn't even given it any thought, but the moment I heard her say those words they sounded good to me. I didn't need to be convinced. So we moved in together.
Over the next 20 months I came to realize that deep down inside she didn't trust me. She trusted me to be her lover. She trusted me to cook for her and take her on really fantastic dates. She trusted me to provide a strong lead in dance and a soft touch by the fire, but she didn't trust me to not try and overpower her (one of those control issues). The fact of the matter is I don't think she trusted any man in that way, ever.
I also came to realize that I did not trust her. I trusted her to follow my lead and accompany me on a really fantastic date, but sadly I could also trust her to explode with raging anger over the silliest little infractions I made. Our concepts of sexuality were a bit of a mismatch too. Had this one thing not been true we might still be together today. During the time we were together it was as though I could see into her brain, and she was thinking: "Holy Shit! What have I gotten myself into?" If only she could have released her inner slut, everything would have been fine. That was apparently just a little too far "out of the box" for her.
Fast forward to 2004. A good friend of mine was preparing to move to France. The housing market was at its peak and he was selling his house to realize a massive cash windfall. He was going to use this money to live in France and enjoy life...and he did. Before he left I asked him to leave his piano with me. I promised him that I would have it tuned twice a year, polish it every week and learn to play it. I told him it would be fully insured and he could find no finer care for it than leaving it with me. I told him the reason I wanted him to do this was to ensure that he returned and reestablished our friendship. He appreciated the thought, but would not leave his piano with me. Instead, he crammed it into his mother's house where they already had three other pianos. He did not trust me that much. He did however trust me to a lesser extent. He gave me his walking stick. And this was not just any walking stick. It was handmade from some sort of exotic wood. Some kind of tree that rarely grows in the frozen wastelands. The results is a kind of hardwood that is stronger than Rattan. For those of you who don't know it, Rattan is a kind of bamboo that is practically unbreakable. I still have it today.
My friend went to France and lived the life of a Frenchman. Eating French food, drinking French wine and smoking French cigarettes. One day I was sitting at Gonul's J Street café, which is coincidentally around the corner from his mother's house, and he came walking by. He had returned and I didn't even know it. So much for his keepsake maintaining a bond between us. He was deep in the throes of suffering the ravages of emphysema. He could barely breathe to speak. I was saddened by the sight. I made sure he still had my contact information and he went on his way. Months passed and I never called...now afraid to hear that he has died, I still don't call. I won't even call our mutual friends for the same reason.
Reflections on trust. I think that's enough for today. Tomorrow will be my last posting on the subject of friends.
Friday, January 28, 2011
The friend on the other side of the mirror
Did you ever see the movie Phantom of the Paradise? In it, Paul Williams is a composer looking for his big break. One day, it comes to him in the bath. His own reflection begins to speak with him. It offers to fulfill all his dreams in exchange for his soul. SPOILER ALERT! He takes the deal. He also gets fucked over by his own reflection. Namely, he gets his head stuck in a record press. He is then horribly disfigured and can no longer get the girl he wanted. It's basically the rock 'n roll stoner version of Phantom of the Opera.
Does this mean you should not listen to your self? No, this just means that you should not listen to the maniacal ravings of your reflection in the mirror. Especially if you don't hear the ravings inside your own head.
I was pretty stoned when I saw this movie. It left me with a mirror phobia for the next 20 years or so. It seems every time I got stoned I was concerned that my reflection would begin speaking to me. Possibly offering me the fulfillment of all my dreams. Pretty freaky, eh? The phobia went away when I stopped smoking pot so much.
Now I regularly contemplate myself in the mirror. I see the new wrinkles forming. I see the onset of eczema. Dandruff in my eyebrows...what an annoyance! I see my bent nose and my crooked teeth. I see my glasses, which are admittedly quite cool, but I am bothered by the fact that I need them. I see my scalp and think back to the days when I had golden locks that would rival Fabio or Peter Frampton. I haven't seen Fabio lately, but just have a look at Peter Frampton these days. All his hair fell out too. On the bright side, they say that is a direct result of a very high level of testosterone. I guess it could be worse.
I see the love handles. Something of a male muffin top. I'm working on it, but I love food and beer...and exercise is not my favorite activity. I do it because I have some goals, but if it weren't for those goals I would be watching reruns of Matlock and eating cream pies for breakfast.
I'm only going to write three more of these including this one, so I thought I should relate to you how I feel about myself. I know there are four more days in the month, but on the last day I'm going to write more about the experience of having written 30 articles, one each day for a month.
So here's how I feel about myself. The beauty of my youth has faded, and I'm saddened by it. So much so that I have thought of having work done on myself, but that's just too vain and I'm too cheap. I've been pretty heavy for the last 20 years and it's a major effort to keep it under control. My only savior is bike riding...and lately running. Running is actually pretty enjoyable as long as my weight is down around 200 pounds (or less). On the bright side I have really great legs and buns! My arms are pretty decent too, and my brain is still working. I may not be a social master, but I can fix anything that can be fixed and solve complex math problems in my head. I feel pretty good about that.
I drink too much most of the time. That's why I take the entire month of January to abstain from alcohol. I just want to make sure I still can. This year has been the easiest so far. This is the first year I didn't get stoned during January either. In the years that I have practiced alcohol free January, I have never started drinking again on February 1. I always give it a couple days. This year I have a friend with a birthday on the third. That's probably when I'll have my first drink of the year. That's just seven days from today. Not that I'm counting or anything.
I spend way too much time pondering what other people think...and I spend waaaayyyy too much time letting them know about it. I miss partner dancing. I especially miss dancing with that raven haired, size 4 German scientist. I miss tandem mountain biking too. I wish I were stronger. I wish more people liked me as much as I like them.
I wish I didn't think cops, lawyers and politicians were fucking assholes. I wish I didn't consider sports nutrition products to be snake oil...but I do. And that much is not likely to change. I wish I had a better outlook...but I don't. And that much is not likely to change either.
In the end, there are a lot of people out there who love me just the way I am. There are also a lot of people out there who hate me just the way I am. I'm thankful for the ones who love me, and the rest can go to hell.
I'm glad you're out there, my friends. I love you all.
Does this mean you should not listen to your self? No, this just means that you should not listen to the maniacal ravings of your reflection in the mirror. Especially if you don't hear the ravings inside your own head.
I was pretty stoned when I saw this movie. It left me with a mirror phobia for the next 20 years or so. It seems every time I got stoned I was concerned that my reflection would begin speaking to me. Possibly offering me the fulfillment of all my dreams. Pretty freaky, eh? The phobia went away when I stopped smoking pot so much.
Now I regularly contemplate myself in the mirror. I see the new wrinkles forming. I see the onset of eczema. Dandruff in my eyebrows...what an annoyance! I see my bent nose and my crooked teeth. I see my glasses, which are admittedly quite cool, but I am bothered by the fact that I need them. I see my scalp and think back to the days when I had golden locks that would rival Fabio or Peter Frampton. I haven't seen Fabio lately, but just have a look at Peter Frampton these days. All his hair fell out too. On the bright side, they say that is a direct result of a very high level of testosterone. I guess it could be worse.
I see the love handles. Something of a male muffin top. I'm working on it, but I love food and beer...and exercise is not my favorite activity. I do it because I have some goals, but if it weren't for those goals I would be watching reruns of Matlock and eating cream pies for breakfast.
I'm only going to write three more of these including this one, so I thought I should relate to you how I feel about myself. I know there are four more days in the month, but on the last day I'm going to write more about the experience of having written 30 articles, one each day for a month.
So here's how I feel about myself. The beauty of my youth has faded, and I'm saddened by it. So much so that I have thought of having work done on myself, but that's just too vain and I'm too cheap. I've been pretty heavy for the last 20 years and it's a major effort to keep it under control. My only savior is bike riding...and lately running. Running is actually pretty enjoyable as long as my weight is down around 200 pounds (or less). On the bright side I have really great legs and buns! My arms are pretty decent too, and my brain is still working. I may not be a social master, but I can fix anything that can be fixed and solve complex math problems in my head. I feel pretty good about that.
I drink too much most of the time. That's why I take the entire month of January to abstain from alcohol. I just want to make sure I still can. This year has been the easiest so far. This is the first year I didn't get stoned during January either. In the years that I have practiced alcohol free January, I have never started drinking again on February 1. I always give it a couple days. This year I have a friend with a birthday on the third. That's probably when I'll have my first drink of the year. That's just seven days from today. Not that I'm counting or anything.
I spend way too much time pondering what other people think...and I spend waaaayyyy too much time letting them know about it. I miss partner dancing. I especially miss dancing with that raven haired, size 4 German scientist. I miss tandem mountain biking too. I wish I were stronger. I wish more people liked me as much as I like them.
I wish I didn't think cops, lawyers and politicians were fucking assholes. I wish I didn't consider sports nutrition products to be snake oil...but I do. And that much is not likely to change. I wish I had a better outlook...but I don't. And that much is not likely to change either.
In the end, there are a lot of people out there who love me just the way I am. There are also a lot of people out there who hate me just the way I am. I'm thankful for the ones who love me, and the rest can go to hell.
I'm glad you're out there, my friends. I love you all.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Do you have artist friends?
I think you would be surprised.
I used to work with a rather plain fellow. He was short, and bald, and pretty geeky. He was a good technician. He was actually a great technician! He knew the math. He knew the science. He even knew some good jokes. But the day he offered to help us move a piano, we all got a big surprise! We showed up at a coworker's house with a truck. We loaded the piano into the truck. Then he sat down at the piano, in the truck, and began belting out the swingin'est tunes you have ever heard. Whodda' thunk it? We knew this guy for years, and nobody knew that he could play piano. Some of us were even pretty close to him. Still, none of us knew that he could play piano. How many hidden virtuosos do you know?
You know how some people doodle during meetings? I work with the fellow who does that. One day I saw what he was doodling.
Who knew?
Many of you have seen my work, but that is because I show it to you. I suspect most people out there don't make the effort of showing what they do. I think people put forth a creative effort in what ever way they are able.
Take the time, make the effort to find out what your friends are up to. Find out if they are on Twitter. Follow them. I know someone who has recently taken to writing haiku. She posts them on Twitter every day. If you are reading this, it's likely you know her also. I won't give her Twitter handle out, but I frequently re-tweet her haiku. I am on Twitter @bikegems.
We all have friends who are artists in the kitchen. A lot of them are on Twitter too. It's a great place to keep tabs on your friends. Especially those who wish it.
Some of our friends use their body as a canvas. Whether it be literally applying art to their flesh, or sculpting their muscles into a work of art, they are artists too. Once upon a time I was married to an artist. Her art was her makeup, hair and nails.
I think we all have friends who are secretly artists of some sort or another. I hope to persuade you to find out what the artistry of your friends is. Try to convince them to bring it out into the open.
The best definition of good art is: "any piece of work that induces an emotional response." Even if you hate it! If it reaches inside you, grabs hold of something, and gives it a big twist... it's good art!
Don't let the art of your friends languish. Even if you have to pry it out of them, bring it out into the light for all to see. That's what friends do.
I used to work with a rather plain fellow. He was short, and bald, and pretty geeky. He was a good technician. He was actually a great technician! He knew the math. He knew the science. He even knew some good jokes. But the day he offered to help us move a piano, we all got a big surprise! We showed up at a coworker's house with a truck. We loaded the piano into the truck. Then he sat down at the piano, in the truck, and began belting out the swingin'est tunes you have ever heard. Whodda' thunk it? We knew this guy for years, and nobody knew that he could play piano. Some of us were even pretty close to him. Still, none of us knew that he could play piano. How many hidden virtuosos do you know?
You know how some people doodle during meetings? I work with the fellow who does that. One day I saw what he was doodling.
Many of you have seen my work, but that is because I show it to you. I suspect most people out there don't make the effort of showing what they do. I think people put forth a creative effort in what ever way they are able.
Take the time, make the effort to find out what your friends are up to. Find out if they are on Twitter. Follow them. I know someone who has recently taken to writing haiku. She posts them on Twitter every day. If you are reading this, it's likely you know her also. I won't give her Twitter handle out, but I frequently re-tweet her haiku. I am on Twitter @bikegems.
We all have friends who are artists in the kitchen. A lot of them are on Twitter too. It's a great place to keep tabs on your friends. Especially those who wish it.
Some of our friends use their body as a canvas. Whether it be literally applying art to their flesh, or sculpting their muscles into a work of art, they are artists too. Once upon a time I was married to an artist. Her art was her makeup, hair and nails.
I think we all have friends who are secretly artists of some sort or another. I hope to persuade you to find out what the artistry of your friends is. Try to convince them to bring it out into the open.
The best definition of good art is: "any piece of work that induces an emotional response." Even if you hate it! If it reaches inside you, grabs hold of something, and gives it a big twist... it's good art!
Don't let the art of your friends languish. Even if you have to pry it out of them, bring it out into the light for all to see. That's what friends do.
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