So, I finally went to the gym yesterday. It had been so long I felt like Homer Simpson in that episode where he discovers an all night gym, thinks out loud, "All night gyme (gym). What's a gyme?" Then he walks inside and spouts out his realization, "Oh, a gyme!" Anywho, that is how long it's been since I rediscovered my gyme, "Planet Fitness: The Judgment Free Zone". As you can guess it's a gyme for losers like me who are super weak and don't want any muscleheads laughing at how puny we are. It was good to go. I am sore today, which means I had a good workout, right? Let's forget that I was following an old man through all the weight machines and had to make things lighter so I could deal with the reps. I didn't quite embarrass myself to the point of not wanting to go back, so I am planning on another grueling workout today. Hopefully that old man isn't there again. I felt like he was judging me the whole time. . .

A Few Thoughts

Here I am, once again, sitting in the Huntsman Center waiting for another women's basketball game to start. How many of these are there? I lost count. What I am trying to get at is that this place seems to release my most random thoughts into the atmosphere. One of the warmup songs was Brittney Spears. How screwed up is she? Truth be told, she is a wacko, but it didn't help that she was driven to insanity by her fans as well as every member of the media. When her stories reach and claim a whole segment on CNN, you know that things have gotten out of hand. What's more, the paparazzi isn't satisfied with how much of a wreck her life is. They will not be happy until she has killed herself. Heck, I just looked the word 'paparazzi' up on google and a picture of Brittney popped up on the screen. Also, school has pissed me off lately, with the lengthy chapter reading assignments. Don't people get it, no one can concentrate on fifty pages worth of information that must be read each night. Women's basketball, why did I agree to take this job for another year? How is Novak Djokavic feeling fine to play in the Australian Open, but too sick to take part in Davis Cup? Why am I so picky when it comes to girls when I am the definition of a nerd (Harry Potter and The Lord of the Rings are my favorite books)? Why did Dumbledore have to die? Why didn't Gandalf have to die? Why can't I seem to find a decent apartment to live in that doesn't smell weird and have crazies living in the floor above? And if, pray tell, global warming is our environment's biggest threat, why the devil won't it stop snowing?! This is just a small sample of the things that run through my head in the minutes preceding one of the women's basketball games.

He Slipped

As he walked down the icy sidewalk, he murmured to himself, "I'm gonna freakin' slip and kill myself today." This was not a new thought, as it crossed his mind frequently during the snowy wintry months. He continued to walk, eyes on the sidewalk as he made his way carefully to class. The throng of students walking towards him combined with the many behind filled him with a sense of urgency he knew was uncalled for, yet his pace quickened ever so slightly. Then it happened. The sound of a honking horn caused him to look up as he tread over an icy patch on his path. He seemed to move in slow motion as both feet flew high over his head and he landed with a resounding crash. Then he lay motionless. Two strangers stopped and looked over him. "What happened?", one asked the other. "He slipped."

It's been a while

It has been a while. Let's just say that I haven't been in much of a blog writing mood. Dingo made me feel inspired to write again, seeing as he or she actually read one of my posts. So a much deserved shout out to dingo, whoever you are. This post, however, will probably be read by only a few, and enjoyed by even less. So in honor of my sister Jamie, I dedicate this blog to the game of tennis. The Australian Open is in progress as we speak, and I am stoked to have another grand slam event to occupy my short attention span. As always, I am cheering for Mr. Roger Federer. Not because he is the best, not because he is knocking on history's beautiful oak door, not even because I have traveled to the city of his birth, Bale, Switzerland. No, I am cheering for the suisse because of his poise and demeanor on and off the court. Always the gentleman, some of Roger's quotes have let some to believe that he is arrogant and cocky. This is not true in the least. He is simply telling the truth. When he says "I was playing well, no one could've beaten me today" he couldn't be more right! Take his match against James Blake early this morning. Blake played well, he played incredible. Quite possibly one of the greatest matches of his career, and Roger still beat him in straight sets. When a player can consistently play the best players in the world on their best days and not allow them to win one set, he or she has the right to talk in such a way that others might interpret as trash talk. Serena Williams is one of those players. When she is on, there is not a woman on the tour, not her sister, not Justine Henin, who can take her out. However, Serena does not hold herself with half the dignity on the court that Roger Federer shows. Her obnoxious shouts of joy at her opponents mistakes are unsportsmanlike and rude. After a loss, she is quick to site a nagging injury that she neglected to mention before the match. It is never her fault. Federer, on the contrary, has been known to say that he wasn't playing his top game, but never a third factor. If he loses, it is his fault or his opponent's great play, never the fans or an injury or the sun or any number of other cheap excuses. So here is to a great champion, someone with all the virtues and determination that a true champion should have.

'Nuff Said

“ . . . no one ever considers himself an expert if he really knows his job. A man who knows a job sees so much more to be done than he has done, that he is always pressing forward and never gives up an instant of thought to how good and how efficient he is. Thinking always ahead, thinking always of trying to do more, brings a state of mind in which nothing is impossible. The moment one gets into the “expert” state of mind a great number of things become impossible.
“I refuse to recognize that there are impossibilities. I cannot discover that any one knows enough about anything on this earth definitely to say what is and what is not possible. The right kind of experience, the right kind of technical training, ought to enlarge the mind and reduce the number of impossibilities. It unfortunately does nothing of the kind. Most technical training and the average of that which we call experience, provide a record of previous failures and, instead of these failures being taken for what they are worth, they are taken as absolute bars to progress. If some man, calling himself an authority, says that this or that cannot be done, then a horde of unthinking followers start the chorus: “It can’t be done.””

Henry Ford
My Life and Work

L'art de vivre

As the Christmas holiday approaches and finals have begun to return to the hell from whence they came, I have realized that even with school being over, I am only going to have a few days off for Christmas. And considering that two of those days comprise the weekend, really I only have two free days. My first day off is the 22nd (Saturday) and I have to return to work on the 26th. I realize that my complaining may not be justified as others have much tougher work schedules than myself, and may even have to work on Christmas day itself. What I am trying to explain in this post is that we as Americans take our jobs too seriously. The French have what they call l'art de vivre (the art of living). They don't live to work, they work to live. Every holiday possible, including many we haven't heard of here in the States, will get every employee at least one day off. Tuesday holidays are a good enough reason to take Monday off and make it a four day weekend (faire le pont). Some well-meaning capitalists would be outraged at such an attitude. "Time is money" seems to be the slogan here. But is money so important? Our society has become so infatuated with commercialism and keeping one up on our neighbor that while we are more prosperous than even, we are also working harder than ever in order to afford the lifestyle we have become accustomed to living. I'm not saying it is bad to want to have a good life, but for crying out loud, take some time off and relax a little. How are you going to enjoy your new toys if you are working 24/7. Life's too short not to enjoy it a little. So go out to a movie, take a nap, read a book or kiss a girl (or boy, depending on your gender or sexual orientation). Live your life, not your job!

I Am

I am not overjoyed. I am not sad. I am not eccentric. I don't like birds, bugs or icecream. I don't want sugar in my coffee. I don't have to smile when I'm pleased. I am not sick. I am not well. I'm not here to please you. I am not here to displease you. I've never been to Singapore. I've never killed a man, I've never struck another in anger. I am not a rock. I am not an island. I cannot prevent forest fires. I am not outgoing. I am not your mother. I am not your father. I am not your conscience. I am in love. I am not perfect, and I will not be satisfied until I am.