5 years ago, also on a Thursday, I had my first date with my wife. (She wasn't my wife at the time, as anyone who's followed the blog probably understands, but, you know.)
I'd picked out a restaraunt on Surf and Sheffield, just a short walk from her place. It was a warm day, but pleasantly so. She was wearing a nice sundress and a bit of makeup around her eyes. She looked gorgeous.
As we walked, we talked. Idle chit-chat that I don't remember and before long we were at the restaraunt. And that was the problem. I hadn't called ahead for reservations, figuring that it was a random Thursday, so it wouldn't be busy. Apparenty, though, it hadn't been busy for a while. It was closed and looked like it had been for a couple months.
Luckily there wasn't a health violation sticker in the window, cause that never goes well on a first date. But still, it was not a good move.
But despite that flub, we went on to Joy's and really, she's been overlooking my flaws ever since.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Running on Faith (what else can a poor boy do?)
I remember being fat all my life. I was never a fan of walking for exercise or transportation (any farther than I had to go anyway). Not from middle school, not to the country store, and not to the mall, though all of them were probably less than a mile from my house. It might as well have been 20 or 100 miles. And running? Well. I was never a fast runner and running from home to first on a single was about all I really wanted to have to do. And really, this kind of exercise just wasn't something I could do. I was too out of shape. Too fat.
It wasn't until the wedding, when Dinah and I were looking through pictures for the centerpieces that I saw, I wasn't fat all my life. There were some pictures where I was thin. I was a little surprised to see that. And it led me, of course, to thinking I could be thin again some day.
Well. Today is not that day. But, it is getting better and I did make a decision that is either a little stupid or just a little different. I entered a race.
It's just a 5k (which is just over 3 miles for those who only measure in American), but in my mind it seemed insurmountable. Add to that the fact that I entered it through the firm where I work (after asking the outsourcing company whether or not this was okay, because, you know, I work here, but I don't work here). Running a distance I had never run, with coworkers about, seeing me sweating and panting. This sounded like a bad idea. A very bad idea. But, on Thursday last week I entered anyway.
So. Unsure of what the hell to do, I turned to Dinah. Who turned to the internet. We found this. A nice schedule that should help prepare my legs so that I won't embarrass myself more than I have to. I counted back from the day of the race (August 14, btw), and was frightened at the thought of having to run the number of miles they recommend. Most of my running had been around a mile to a mile and a half. Now, I was looking at the week before and seeing 4 miles, followed by 2 miles. It was crazy. There was no way I could do this. But I also couldn't pull out.
So, Sunday morning, Dinah and I set out on my first 3 mile run, as the schedule dictated. (I'm on week 3 and today is the Friday of that week, if you want to know what I should be working on.) It sucked. It sucked, but I did it. I ran the full way without stopping (a big deal to me). And yesterday I did 3.5 miles (though the schedule called for 3, the weather here has been so goddamned lovely*, I just kind of wanted to keep going, so I did). This is good. For me.
Often times, I find myself intimidated by the efforts others make. People who run 10 miles a day or who lose 50 pounds in two months. And I don't want to compete with them. I don't want to run 10 miles. I don't know how far I want to run really. But. I'm now running farther than I thought I could.
*Note. I mean, wow. It's actually kind of cool here this week. In the middle of July. I know this is somehow related to the weather changes in the world and it's ultimately probably a bad thing, but I can't help but enjoy it. It's putting a crimp in my usual summer "video gaming/watching movies/being inside all the time" mentality, but in a good way.
It wasn't until the wedding, when Dinah and I were looking through pictures for the centerpieces that I saw, I wasn't fat all my life. There were some pictures where I was thin. I was a little surprised to see that. And it led me, of course, to thinking I could be thin again some day.
Well. Today is not that day. But, it is getting better and I did make a decision that is either a little stupid or just a little different. I entered a race.
It's just a 5k (which is just over 3 miles for those who only measure in American), but in my mind it seemed insurmountable. Add to that the fact that I entered it through the firm where I work (after asking the outsourcing company whether or not this was okay, because, you know, I work here, but I don't work here). Running a distance I had never run, with coworkers about, seeing me sweating and panting. This sounded like a bad idea. A very bad idea. But, on Thursday last week I entered anyway.
So. Unsure of what the hell to do, I turned to Dinah. Who turned to the internet. We found this. A nice schedule that should help prepare my legs so that I won't embarrass myself more than I have to. I counted back from the day of the race (August 14, btw), and was frightened at the thought of having to run the number of miles they recommend. Most of my running had been around a mile to a mile and a half. Now, I was looking at the week before and seeing 4 miles, followed by 2 miles. It was crazy. There was no way I could do this. But I also couldn't pull out.
So, Sunday morning, Dinah and I set out on my first 3 mile run, as the schedule dictated. (I'm on week 3 and today is the Friday of that week, if you want to know what I should be working on.) It sucked. It sucked, but I did it. I ran the full way without stopping (a big deal to me). And yesterday I did 3.5 miles (though the schedule called for 3, the weather here has been so goddamned lovely*, I just kind of wanted to keep going, so I did). This is good. For me.
Often times, I find myself intimidated by the efforts others make. People who run 10 miles a day or who lose 50 pounds in two months. And I don't want to compete with them. I don't want to run 10 miles. I don't know how far I want to run really. But. I'm now running farther than I thought I could.
*Note. I mean, wow. It's actually kind of cool here this week. In the middle of July. I know this is somehow related to the weather changes in the world and it's ultimately probably a bad thing, but I can't help but enjoy it. It's putting a crimp in my usual summer "video gaming/watching movies/being inside all the time" mentality, but in a good way.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
It's over.
I've left her.
We couldn't agree on anything for a long time. I'd say one thing and she'd do another. And I'd leave feeling upset, but keeping my feelings to myself. Sure, I'm culpable, because I'd always say, "It's good. Fine. Thanks." But, I knew it wasn't fine. I knew I wanted the back worked a little more. And ultimately, we just couldn't agree on what to do.
Oh yeah, I came here and talked about how great it was to have a female barber, or hairstylist, or what-have-you. But, you know what. It's over.
I don't know if there are rules about breaking up with your barber. But, much like I did with girlfriends in highschool, I am just not going where she goes and not asking for anything I have to pay for.
It's been a couple months now, and I've been experimenting with some male barbers, again. And so far, my elbows have been penis free (thank you for asking), and the back has been worked superbly. (*ahem*)
We couldn't agree on anything for a long time. I'd say one thing and she'd do another. And I'd leave feeling upset, but keeping my feelings to myself. Sure, I'm culpable, because I'd always say, "It's good. Fine. Thanks." But, I knew it wasn't fine. I knew I wanted the back worked a little more. And ultimately, we just couldn't agree on what to do.
Oh yeah, I came here and talked about how great it was to have a female barber, or hairstylist, or what-have-you. But, you know what. It's over.
I don't know if there are rules about breaking up with your barber. But, much like I did with girlfriends in highschool, I am just not going where she goes and not asking for anything I have to pay for.
It's been a couple months now, and I've been experimenting with some male barbers, again. And so far, my elbows have been penis free (thank you for asking), and the back has been worked superbly. (*ahem*)
What a freaking day....(or the tide is turning)
A lot going on at work. Today I had to go to the Chinese Consulate to drop off some documents. I've done this three times before without any problem. Today, however, there was a problem. Some paperwork wasn't filled out correctly, even though it was filled out exactly the same way as I had done in the past. I found this out after waiting for an hour and talking to the gentleman for another half hour. It didn't make sense.
So. I come back to the office and let the powers that be know what happened so they can deal with it (because, I am, afterall, a mere file clerk. This sort of brain-work is too much for me). Their solution? Send me back with a new, corrected file. Makes sense, right? Except that their correction was to re-fill out the paperwork changing two words. Two words that had nothing to do with the problem that had gotten the papers rejected. It didn't make sense, but whatever.
So. Two hours of waiting later, I'm at the same window talking to the same guy and he's still not buying this bullshit. So, I spent about 3 1/2 hours total today to accomplish nothing.
Meanwhile, I've got shit piling up (shit that's actually mine to do, mind you) on my desk. And I've got to get ready to spearhead the moving of files and such that's happening on Friday. So. I should be pissed right?
It's weird. I'm not. I'm upset I didn't get a lunch today because I'm really hungry. But the wasting of time didn't bother me in the slightest. I had enough comic books with me to get through the time. (Marvel is kicking some serious ass now. And Grant Morrison is sucking balls big time, if you ask me.) And I'm not gonna be doing this forever.
I registered for my classes even though they don't start for another 2 months. I'm starting to think about buying books and taking tests. Things are getting better. And it's a nice feeling when you feel like you're getting un-stuck.
But. Don't think I will be rooting for any of the Chinese athletes in the Olympics. That's your penalty China.
So. I come back to the office and let the powers that be know what happened so they can deal with it (because, I am, afterall, a mere file clerk. This sort of brain-work is too much for me). Their solution? Send me back with a new, corrected file. Makes sense, right? Except that their correction was to re-fill out the paperwork changing two words. Two words that had nothing to do with the problem that had gotten the papers rejected. It didn't make sense, but whatever.
So. Two hours of waiting later, I'm at the same window talking to the same guy and he's still not buying this bullshit. So, I spent about 3 1/2 hours total today to accomplish nothing.
Meanwhile, I've got shit piling up (shit that's actually mine to do, mind you) on my desk. And I've got to get ready to spearhead the moving of files and such that's happening on Friday. So. I should be pissed right?
It's weird. I'm not. I'm upset I didn't get a lunch today because I'm really hungry. But the wasting of time didn't bother me in the slightest. I had enough comic books with me to get through the time. (Marvel is kicking some serious ass now. And Grant Morrison is sucking balls big time, if you ask me.) And I'm not gonna be doing this forever.
I registered for my classes even though they don't start for another 2 months. I'm starting to think about buying books and taking tests. Things are getting better. And it's a nice feeling when you feel like you're getting un-stuck.
But. Don't think I will be rooting for any of the Chinese athletes in the Olympics. That's your penalty China.
The New Yorker
The New Yorker cover.
I think a lot of people who object to the image do so because they think there are a lot of Americans who won't understand that the image is satire. Or that what the image is getting at is the many lies and misconceptions that are coming up about the Obamas now. To these people, I say, yes. It is definitely going to be seen as proof or a reassertion of these lies by some people.
But. People already believe that. It wasn't the New Yorker who put that idea out there. They're just pointing it out and now we have the opportunity to talk about it and hopefully spread some knowledge. I doubt that'll happen, but hopefully, right? But at least, it's out there now in front of everyone.
And if we can talk about race in this country without getting upset and talking about hurt feelings, or just being completely idiotic, maybe we can make this country a little better. Maybe.
Also, I know some are worried that a lot of people (often referred to as "rural", which is a whole other issue) won't get that it's satire...well. You know, we can't just pander to the stupid people of this country for the rest of our lives. We've done that for far too long and it hasn't helped us one damned bit.
I think a lot of people who object to the image do so because they think there are a lot of Americans who won't understand that the image is satire. Or that what the image is getting at is the many lies and misconceptions that are coming up about the Obamas now. To these people, I say, yes. It is definitely going to be seen as proof or a reassertion of these lies by some people.
But. People already believe that. It wasn't the New Yorker who put that idea out there. They're just pointing it out and now we have the opportunity to talk about it and hopefully spread some knowledge. I doubt that'll happen, but hopefully, right? But at least, it's out there now in front of everyone.
And if we can talk about race in this country without getting upset and talking about hurt feelings, or just being completely idiotic, maybe we can make this country a little better. Maybe.
Also, I know some are worried that a lot of people (often referred to as "rural", which is a whole other issue) won't get that it's satire...well. You know, we can't just pander to the stupid people of this country for the rest of our lives. We've done that for far too long and it hasn't helped us one damned bit.
Friday, July 11, 2008
It's a town full of losers and I'm pullin' out of here to win...
I love Des Moines. I can't stress that enough. I have fond memories of living there and I sometimes delude myself into thinking I could live there again, as an adult and parent. I can sort of see myself taking my kids to one of the schools that used to be praised as the best in the nation. I'd work downtown somewhere. Someday I'd go to highschool football games and root on my kids. (Thank goodness Dinah is talented athletically, because otherwise the kids would be doomed to being in choir, like I was. Though I enjoyed it and the mockery that came with it...but I digress). I suppose I can picture this because this is essentially what my parents did (you know, until the divorce).
And I was raised in a time when Des Moines, and Iowa in general, was losing many young people after college. This fact caused guidance counselors, parents and older people who stayed (usually at church for me) to oversell either the "good", "simple", "honest" life of Iowa, or the "hard", "dangerous", "expensive" life of anywhere else.* Sure it was unfair propaganda, but I was stupid. And I liked the dream of the easy life in Des Moines. Safe and honest.
But, as I said, it's a delusion.
I started to suspect I would leave Des Moines in highschool. I went to a magnet school half a day throughout highschool and it was here that I first really even thought that leaving Des Moines and looking for more was really a possibility. It wasn't so much that I had no idea that I could leave Des Moines, but more that I'd never really been asked to think about it. And at Central (the magnet school), I was suddenly surrounded by people who had not only given it thought, but who seemed to really have plans about where they were going and what they were doing. It's beside the point that they may not have ended up going where they thought they would, because it's highschool and no one really has it all figured out. The point is, these were people who had tried to figure it out. In contrast, I hadn't really given it much thought. I hadn't been encouraged to really.
I mean, yeah, I'd get asked what I wanted to be a lot. I did well in school and everyone at church seemed to think me a bright kid, so they wanted to know what thoughts I had about my future. Except, what they really wanted to do was tell me I should be a doctor or a lawyer. If I mentioned that I wanted to be a writer (which I did since the time of reading a Mark Twain biography after our trip to Hannibal, Mo.), it was generally ignored or discouraged. (I picked up on that quickly and started telling people that I wanted to be a circle. That answer never seemed satisfactory, so it somehow changed into "I want to be a duck. They can swim and fly and waddle. They got it all." Which I suppose was my way of saying, "I don't know. And I don't care for your ideas on my future." I was a jerk.) And as I got older and took those tests that tell you what you're "aptitudes" would lend themselves to, it seemed they always came up with things that I had no interest in. Civil Engineer. Lawyer. Good jobs, but niether are really things I wanted to be. When I had to talk about the results with the guidance counselors, I would smile and say, "sure, that sounds good" and "yeah, I guess that's gonna make me some cash." Whatever. I never took it seriously.
At Central, all of the sudden for me, expectations were raised. I remember my 9th grade civics teacher showing slides of his trip to Africa as part of a lesson and he said something that I'd never heard or thought before. "When you go to Africa..." When. It wasn't only a possibility, it was a foregone conclusion. I could go to Africa if I wanted. (Thailand will have to do for now.)
Suddenly, the delusion started to seem less certain to me. And as time went by, I became less and less enamored with Des Moines. There was nothing to do as a highschool student (not that there's much I do when I go back, either). And the people who seemed to want to stay always seemed like they were too content to try for anything better. Close friends from Lincoln (where I went to highschool the rest of time) stopped feeling as close as they were. And Lincoln itself, which I identified as being more "Iowan"--filled as it was with people who were probably going to stay in Iowa--never seemed to have a place for me. I was growing away from Iowa. Which ended up being the reason I ended up going to college right in the middle of it.
I wasn't sure about Grinnell the first time I visited. I remember the sun shining brightly on I80 as BD and I drove up for a visit. I had only applied to 2 schools, but I'd gotten into both of them. (In an odd moment of clarity and confidence, I had known going into the college process the type of school I had wanted and I hadn't really been too concerned about rejection.) One was in a quiet Missouri and the other was an hour from my house. And while rural Missouri wasn't exactly the whole world that I planned on seeing, it was somewhere new.**
Within 10 minutes of visiting Grinnell, though, I knew these would be my last 4 years in Iowa. I remember being on the tour. We were in Gates Pit, passing by a junior sitting in a tiny room studying chemistry (I think). The tour guide stopped and asked him why he was stuck in such a "shitty room". (He said shitty right in front of us. This was awesome.) The guy replied that he'd just gotten back from studying in....well, I can't remember where he'd studied. I want to say it was Africa, but it could've been China, or London, or Spain. The tourguide explained that Grinnell encouraged all of its students to go abroad. That's what put Grinnell in the lead to stay.
Of course the time at Grinnell is a whole other story.
*Once, after I'd moved to Chicago, I was back at church for the midnight service for Christmas, which our church held at 10 pm. (Seriously.) I was talking to a really nice lady who was 15 or so years older than I was about living in Chicago. Even though I'd been here for either 2 or 3 years (I can't remember which for sure) at that point, she had some advice for me. "If you go on the South Side, you better," (and she said the next part in a gutteral whisper and a thumb motion) "get the hell out. That's where the black people are." Yeah. She wasn't as nice as I thought.
**Not to mention that the college recruiter really wanted me to go there. She gave me special attention at the visit I attended, at one point telling me, "A cute guy like you should have no problem finding a girl to do your laundry and type up your papers for you." As a highschool senior I was seriously flattered. It only occurred to me later that it was sort of insulting to think I wouldn't/couldn't do those things for myself or that I expected/wanted someone to do those things for me. But I digress.
----
But, as I say, I love Des Moines. I love it for the opportunities it gave me, even if by giving me those opportunities, it made me realize Des Moines wasn't going to be the place I wanted it to be.
And I was raised in a time when Des Moines, and Iowa in general, was losing many young people after college. This fact caused guidance counselors, parents and older people who stayed (usually at church for me) to oversell either the "good", "simple", "honest" life of Iowa, or the "hard", "dangerous", "expensive" life of anywhere else.* Sure it was unfair propaganda, but I was stupid. And I liked the dream of the easy life in Des Moines. Safe and honest.
But, as I said, it's a delusion.
I started to suspect I would leave Des Moines in highschool. I went to a magnet school half a day throughout highschool and it was here that I first really even thought that leaving Des Moines and looking for more was really a possibility. It wasn't so much that I had no idea that I could leave Des Moines, but more that I'd never really been asked to think about it. And at Central (the magnet school), I was suddenly surrounded by people who had not only given it thought, but who seemed to really have plans about where they were going and what they were doing. It's beside the point that they may not have ended up going where they thought they would, because it's highschool and no one really has it all figured out. The point is, these were people who had tried to figure it out. In contrast, I hadn't really given it much thought. I hadn't been encouraged to really.
I mean, yeah, I'd get asked what I wanted to be a lot. I did well in school and everyone at church seemed to think me a bright kid, so they wanted to know what thoughts I had about my future. Except, what they really wanted to do was tell me I should be a doctor or a lawyer. If I mentioned that I wanted to be a writer (which I did since the time of reading a Mark Twain biography after our trip to Hannibal, Mo.), it was generally ignored or discouraged. (I picked up on that quickly and started telling people that I wanted to be a circle. That answer never seemed satisfactory, so it somehow changed into "I want to be a duck. They can swim and fly and waddle. They got it all." Which I suppose was my way of saying, "I don't know. And I don't care for your ideas on my future." I was a jerk.) And as I got older and took those tests that tell you what you're "aptitudes" would lend themselves to, it seemed they always came up with things that I had no interest in. Civil Engineer. Lawyer. Good jobs, but niether are really things I wanted to be. When I had to talk about the results with the guidance counselors, I would smile and say, "sure, that sounds good" and "yeah, I guess that's gonna make me some cash." Whatever. I never took it seriously.
At Central, all of the sudden for me, expectations were raised. I remember my 9th grade civics teacher showing slides of his trip to Africa as part of a lesson and he said something that I'd never heard or thought before. "When you go to Africa..." When. It wasn't only a possibility, it was a foregone conclusion. I could go to Africa if I wanted. (Thailand will have to do for now.)
Suddenly, the delusion started to seem less certain to me. And as time went by, I became less and less enamored with Des Moines. There was nothing to do as a highschool student (not that there's much I do when I go back, either). And the people who seemed to want to stay always seemed like they were too content to try for anything better. Close friends from Lincoln (where I went to highschool the rest of time) stopped feeling as close as they were. And Lincoln itself, which I identified as being more "Iowan"--filled as it was with people who were probably going to stay in Iowa--never seemed to have a place for me. I was growing away from Iowa. Which ended up being the reason I ended up going to college right in the middle of it.
I wasn't sure about Grinnell the first time I visited. I remember the sun shining brightly on I80 as BD and I drove up for a visit. I had only applied to 2 schools, but I'd gotten into both of them. (In an odd moment of clarity and confidence, I had known going into the college process the type of school I had wanted and I hadn't really been too concerned about rejection.) One was in a quiet Missouri and the other was an hour from my house. And while rural Missouri wasn't exactly the whole world that I planned on seeing, it was somewhere new.**
Within 10 minutes of visiting Grinnell, though, I knew these would be my last 4 years in Iowa. I remember being on the tour. We were in Gates Pit, passing by a junior sitting in a tiny room studying chemistry (I think). The tour guide stopped and asked him why he was stuck in such a "shitty room". (He said shitty right in front of us. This was awesome.) The guy replied that he'd just gotten back from studying in....well, I can't remember where he'd studied. I want to say it was Africa, but it could've been China, or London, or Spain. The tourguide explained that Grinnell encouraged all of its students to go abroad. That's what put Grinnell in the lead to stay.
Of course the time at Grinnell is a whole other story.
*Once, after I'd moved to Chicago, I was back at church for the midnight service for Christmas, which our church held at 10 pm. (Seriously.) I was talking to a really nice lady who was 15 or so years older than I was about living in Chicago. Even though I'd been here for either 2 or 3 years (I can't remember which for sure) at that point, she had some advice for me. "If you go on the South Side, you better," (and she said the next part in a gutteral whisper and a thumb motion) "get the hell out. That's where the black people are." Yeah. She wasn't as nice as I thought.
**Not to mention that the college recruiter really wanted me to go there. She gave me special attention at the visit I attended, at one point telling me, "A cute guy like you should have no problem finding a girl to do your laundry and type up your papers for you." As a highschool senior I was seriously flattered. It only occurred to me later that it was sort of insulting to think I wouldn't/couldn't do those things for myself or that I expected/wanted someone to do those things for me. But I digress.
----
But, as I say, I love Des Moines. I love it for the opportunities it gave me, even if by giving me those opportunities, it made me realize Des Moines wasn't going to be the place I wanted it to be.
Monday, July 7, 2008
Less Stressing Update...
As you may remember, I wrote a post about a month ago outlining three things I wanted to start changing for myself. I figured an update would probably be good for me, so I can have some record and accountability of everything.
The first thing I was working on was my weight. I wanted to lose 26 pounds. Well. I'm not really making progress there. Or none to speak of. I have been pretty good at excercising, but portion control has (as it always is) been hard for me. I'm down 2 pounds, which is good, but not where I was hoping. And some of this may be mitigated by some muscle I may have put on. I've been doing some weight and strength excercising. Maybe. I can't say for sure I've seen a lot of change in the way my body looks, but then again, I pretty much just stare right at my stomach.
The second thing was the stressing about work and other little things (like how much CTA sucks) that bother me and have a tendency to really bother me. Here, I've made some progress. I've been a lot better about being patient with everyone at work. Not perfect, but at least I've stopped letting people know when they're bothering me. Which is good for a lot of reasons. I've also really stopped worrying so much about a lot of little things (did I mention CTA is really horrible? But it's okay, they're gonna suck whether I am mad or not.), which is good.
But every now and again, I just lose all motivation and start to feel the resentment of my work situation. It still eats at me. So, I can say I've made cosmetic progress (which is good), but I can't say that I've made real progress. This is because I can't really be sure whether I should care about my work (which I was raised to do) or not give a shit (which seems to be what my employers want, I guess). Ideally, I'd like to care about my work. Do something with my time that means something. I think about my friends who are doing such amazing things, and I'm putting shit away. It bothers me. It's probably a lot of ego. But still, that's what I want. And with paralegal classes starting in a couple months, maybe I'll be on my way to having that. Hopefully.
But. Whether the classes get me feeling like I've got some movement (lack of paralysis) in my live or not, I'm kind of stuck here. The job market around here is crappy. (To put it nicely.) That and a couple other factors look like they'll keep me here till my program finishes up in August 2009. And when I think of it as 13 months, it feels like a prison sentence (which I admit is overly dramatic and self-indulgent). So, yeah. This is a work in progress.
The father sitauation. I've done nothing about this. I can't think of the best way to do this. I have to think about what it is I want from him. And how to best negotiate everything that has happened as well as things to come. And really, I have to figure out how to deal with his lady-friend.
The first thing I was working on was my weight. I wanted to lose 26 pounds. Well. I'm not really making progress there. Or none to speak of. I have been pretty good at excercising, but portion control has (as it always is) been hard for me. I'm down 2 pounds, which is good, but not where I was hoping. And some of this may be mitigated by some muscle I may have put on. I've been doing some weight and strength excercising. Maybe. I can't say for sure I've seen a lot of change in the way my body looks, but then again, I pretty much just stare right at my stomach.
The second thing was the stressing about work and other little things (like how much CTA sucks) that bother me and have a tendency to really bother me. Here, I've made some progress. I've been a lot better about being patient with everyone at work. Not perfect, but at least I've stopped letting people know when they're bothering me. Which is good for a lot of reasons. I've also really stopped worrying so much about a lot of little things (did I mention CTA is really horrible? But it's okay, they're gonna suck whether I am mad or not.), which is good.
But every now and again, I just lose all motivation and start to feel the resentment of my work situation. It still eats at me. So, I can say I've made cosmetic progress (which is good), but I can't say that I've made real progress. This is because I can't really be sure whether I should care about my work (which I was raised to do) or not give a shit (which seems to be what my employers want, I guess). Ideally, I'd like to care about my work. Do something with my time that means something. I think about my friends who are doing such amazing things, and I'm putting shit away. It bothers me. It's probably a lot of ego. But still, that's what I want. And with paralegal classes starting in a couple months, maybe I'll be on my way to having that. Hopefully.
But. Whether the classes get me feeling like I've got some movement (lack of paralysis) in my live or not, I'm kind of stuck here. The job market around here is crappy. (To put it nicely.) That and a couple other factors look like they'll keep me here till my program finishes up in August 2009. And when I think of it as 13 months, it feels like a prison sentence (which I admit is overly dramatic and self-indulgent). So, yeah. This is a work in progress.
The father sitauation. I've done nothing about this. I can't think of the best way to do this. I have to think about what it is I want from him. And how to best negotiate everything that has happened as well as things to come. And really, I have to figure out how to deal with his lady-friend.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Dear Joe Buck,
I know you're catching a lot of flack now (even from Skip Bayless (who was actually pretty rational, believe it or not)) about your comments about how you rarely love baseball.
And while I agree that it's not ideal for someone who has been so closely associated with baseball-calling the World Series, the All-Star Games, and countless Saturday afternoon games-for a good long time, I don't see your statements as anything more than you being burned out. Maybe ready to try something new. There's nothing wrong with that.
However, I disagree with some of your assertions. I don't think the games are too long. Could they be shorter? Should they be? Yeah. Probably. And if you're going to watch all the games, attention undivided, you I could see why probably want them to be. I think a lot of people multitask while the games going, same as they do with radio though. I don't think length of the games is as big a problem as baseball seems to think it is.
But, you did stumble on something when you compared baseball's schedule to football. Saying of football, "It's got such an advantage being once a week and every game's a big deal. And there are only 16 games all year..(snip) Standing really change in a couple weeks." I think you are right. I think a lot of people like how things can change so quickly from week to week. And that they really only have to invest 3 hours of time to watch their team (though most people probably invest a good deal more than that) during the week to know what's going on with their teams.
You're right. Baseball is more demanding. With baseball, there's generally at least 6 games a week for your team. And if you're reading local columnists and national coverage and trying to keep up with other teams in your division and league as well as interesting things happening all over the league (as I do), it can take up a lot of time. (And that's not even talking about the fantasy leagues.) I can see why a lot of people could find that daunting. I can see why a lot of people, as you say, would watch a game or two on the weekend, but not have the time to invest on during the week games. But for me (and I'll stipulate that I'm not an average baseball fan, but not a superfan. I still have a life outside of watching the Cardinals and all that goes with it for me.), I think that's what makes the game great.
162 games. 6 plus months. It's much more like work than a game when you think of it in those terms. There's few days off. Ther's not a full week to strategize and plan for just one game. Instead, they have to play pretty much every day for 6 months (barring injury) trying to produce at a steady rate and win games. It's a game of endurance and delayed gratification-two qualities which aren't (let's say) used most in describing the current zeitgeist, in America at least. It's not as easy to celebrate after a win, because it doesn't feel as big. It feels more like the wins we get at work (if we're lucky). Yay, I did well at my meeting today. Tomorrow there's another meeting and I've got to do well at that too. So, in a way, it's less escapist than football. And because a lot of why we watch sports is because of the escapism, baseball can suffer if it feels like it's a chore to keep up with everything.
And, Mr. Buck, it sounds like baseball has become a chore for you. Professionaly, I think this means that maybe it's time for you to step away from the game of the week. If you're not enjoying yourself, it's going to (and I would say has) come across as you call the game. You've got a dry sense of humor, and a low-key approach, so that can mask some of the ambivalence you feel, but ultimatley, the viewer's gonna be able to tell. And it's not gonna be a good situation for you or for the game.
For you personally, though. Well. I feel bad for you. You talk about how you used to enjoy the game and it's always sad when people lose the joy they once got from something. So, if as rumored, you're looking into getting a talk show or something, I say good for you. Good luck. Maybe getting away for a little bit would do you some good.
Anyway, just my thoughts. Good luck,
Joe
PS. If you think it's hard to watch 162 games a year, (which few people do Mr. Buck) I don't want to hear you bad-mouth another player who has a hard time getting up for each and every game.
And while I agree that it's not ideal for someone who has been so closely associated with baseball-calling the World Series, the All-Star Games, and countless Saturday afternoon games-for a good long time, I don't see your statements as anything more than you being burned out. Maybe ready to try something new. There's nothing wrong with that.
However, I disagree with some of your assertions. I don't think the games are too long. Could they be shorter? Should they be? Yeah. Probably. And if you're going to watch all the games, attention undivided, you I could see why probably want them to be. I think a lot of people multitask while the games going, same as they do with radio though. I don't think length of the games is as big a problem as baseball seems to think it is.
But, you did stumble on something when you compared baseball's schedule to football. Saying of football, "It's got such an advantage being once a week and every game's a big deal. And there are only 16 games all year..(snip) Standing really change in a couple weeks." I think you are right. I think a lot of people like how things can change so quickly from week to week. And that they really only have to invest 3 hours of time to watch their team (though most people probably invest a good deal more than that) during the week to know what's going on with their teams.
You're right. Baseball is more demanding. With baseball, there's generally at least 6 games a week for your team. And if you're reading local columnists and national coverage and trying to keep up with other teams in your division and league as well as interesting things happening all over the league (as I do), it can take up a lot of time. (And that's not even talking about the fantasy leagues.) I can see why a lot of people could find that daunting. I can see why a lot of people, as you say, would watch a game or two on the weekend, but not have the time to invest on during the week games. But for me (and I'll stipulate that I'm not an average baseball fan, but not a superfan. I still have a life outside of watching the Cardinals and all that goes with it for me.), I think that's what makes the game great.
162 games. 6 plus months. It's much more like work than a game when you think of it in those terms. There's few days off. Ther's not a full week to strategize and plan for just one game. Instead, they have to play pretty much every day for 6 months (barring injury) trying to produce at a steady rate and win games. It's a game of endurance and delayed gratification-two qualities which aren't (let's say) used most in describing the current zeitgeist, in America at least. It's not as easy to celebrate after a win, because it doesn't feel as big. It feels more like the wins we get at work (if we're lucky). Yay, I did well at my meeting today. Tomorrow there's another meeting and I've got to do well at that too. So, in a way, it's less escapist than football. And because a lot of why we watch sports is because of the escapism, baseball can suffer if it feels like it's a chore to keep up with everything.
And, Mr. Buck, it sounds like baseball has become a chore for you. Professionaly, I think this means that maybe it's time for you to step away from the game of the week. If you're not enjoying yourself, it's going to (and I would say has) come across as you call the game. You've got a dry sense of humor, and a low-key approach, so that can mask some of the ambivalence you feel, but ultimatley, the viewer's gonna be able to tell. And it's not gonna be a good situation for you or for the game.
For you personally, though. Well. I feel bad for you. You talk about how you used to enjoy the game and it's always sad when people lose the joy they once got from something. So, if as rumored, you're looking into getting a talk show or something, I say good for you. Good luck. Maybe getting away for a little bit would do you some good.
Anyway, just my thoughts. Good luck,
Joe
PS. If you think it's hard to watch 162 games a year, (which few people do Mr. Buck) I don't want to hear you bad-mouth another player who has a hard time getting up for each and every game.
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