Title says it all. It's not the same as it used to be, though... But I guess considering that it went through the equivalent of having a massive stroke, then slipping into a coma for a month to be completely resuscitated in an afternoon, I really can't complain.
Ok, this is hilarious. Well, this part isn't (it's awesome) - girls have been talking to me (and giving me "the eyes") more often. The other day this girl who was ringing up my food at the Stop and Shop was talking to me, and she seemed a bit anxious. I mean the kind of anxiety that you get when you talk to a hot person (not to be self-aggrandizing here). And, being on the opposite end of that anxiety in turn mad me anxious. And that, my friends, is friggin' hilarious.
I think I'm gonna write a post about why I decided to join the PCP, soon. It seems appropriate given that we've all been grinding our wheels lately.
And on that note, I think I'll just touch base on something that is actually very, very related; why I decided to start smoking weed. And (for the reason that I love to talk about it and because I can't remember if I mentioned it already) why I quit.
I got high long before I ever got drunk. My grandfather once asked me why did I start doing either of those things. The answer for the former is because I was at a family wedding, and everyone else was doing it. The reason for the latter is because I was incredibly anxious, and I wanted a way to fix that. Also, I wanted to push the boundaries of my consciousness. That's pretty much it.
Of course, being so terse leaves a little bit out. As a personal testimony, out of all the drugs I've done (and I've done a few; more that I'd like to admit over such a public channel), weed is the safest and least harmful. Hands down. Safe than alcohol. Hell, there were days where I smoked and then the next day I felt amazing - a skip in my step. That has never happened with alcohol.
Of course, If I ever had any anxiety while drunk, it didn't spiral into a torturous hell that seemed to last for hours. With this in mind, it's kind of strange why I used it for the purpose of ridding myself of anxiety.
And that brings us to the reason why I quit. I've only had three REALLY bad highs. Two were close together, when I was a novice smoker and they were anxious in a "dumb" sense. They were just base anxiety. Fear of the flesh. The last time I smoked, I had a really bad high, and this was intelligently horrifying. Fear of the mind, the soul.
I've been doing some heavy learning since I started smoking - And for most of the time it was a relatively spiritual thing. I started smoking around the time I ditched Christianity and adopted this Buddhist-like disposition. That was October 06, and since then I was pouring spiritual and philosophical ideas into my mind. The heaviest of this was this past fall/spring, when I discovered Zen is Stupid, Radiolab, and a bunch of weird-ass shamanistic shit. So, at the time of my last smoke-session, I had all this information about psychology, spirituality, consciousness, and other miscellaneous crap. All this info serving the purpose of getting to the bare root of it all, seeing beyond the symbols. This was the kindling and the weed was the flame.
I didn't go over the edge and have a panic attack - and like most of the highs of that time, it was like blasting off in a rocket shit; a very long and rocky ride followed by an amazing tranquility.
All weed does is move you out of yourself. It takes the environment that houses the awareness that is you, and fucks it up slightly. Also, and I've only heard this once from a random but credible sounding source, it launches your subconscious into your conscious. I gotta say that this is a pretty good explanation for what I experienced on many occasions. I've often felt that, while high, I was peering into the background programming of myself.
You get back what you put into it. In the beginning, I didn't have much to give. At the end I gave more than I could accept in return, and it freaked me out.
Though, as it stands, that last night was one of the most amazing nights of my life. An event like that gives you pretty clear insight, at least on a subconscious level. I'm pretty sure that because of that horrifying night, I decided to sign up for the PCP.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Boot to the face.
What a wonderful day today was.
The series of events are as follows. I wake up at around 9 am. I eat my before workout food. I stretch, and then begin to work out. Less than a minute into the jumps, my rope snaps in half. I don't even know what happened. One minutes I was jumping and the next I was getting hit in the back of the head by two whips. Dumbfounded, I decide not to waste time and hop on my bike. I come back a half out later and try the pull up. I couldn't even do one properly. Utterly pathetic. I spent about a half-hour flipping out and trying to yank myself up to the bar. I just couldn't do it. I actually don't think my bar is wide enough (or high enough, or the kung-fu sit ups) I have no idea how I'm going to fix that.
So, I give up on that and decide to add more reps and sets to the lawn mower. I do that pretty well. Then I go to do the pull-downs and my mother fuckin' resistance band snaps. This was the point where I lost it.
I moved on to the chair-dips, and added more onto those because it was now the only one I could do. Then I did the kung-fu sit ups and those were pathetic. I was getting nothing out of them and I could barely do any. So damn frustrating.
It was at this point I decided to give up. A little bit later I emailed Patrick, saying how it felt like I hadn't made any progress, and that I couldn't go on any longer, and then I went on a bike ride that lasted for about 2-3 hours while listening to blues.
I came back, checked my email, and this is what Pat sent me:
"Whoa, meltdown! Awesome dude,
The series of events are as follows. I wake up at around 9 am. I eat my before workout food. I stretch, and then begin to work out. Less than a minute into the jumps, my rope snaps in half. I don't even know what happened. One minutes I was jumping and the next I was getting hit in the back of the head by two whips. Dumbfounded, I decide not to waste time and hop on my bike. I come back a half out later and try the pull up. I couldn't even do one properly. Utterly pathetic. I spent about a half-hour flipping out and trying to yank myself up to the bar. I just couldn't do it. I actually don't think my bar is wide enough (or high enough, or the kung-fu sit ups) I have no idea how I'm going to fix that.
So, I give up on that and decide to add more reps and sets to the lawn mower. I do that pretty well. Then I go to do the pull-downs and my mother fuckin' resistance band snaps. This was the point where I lost it.
I moved on to the chair-dips, and added more onto those because it was now the only one I could do. Then I did the kung-fu sit ups and those were pathetic. I was getting nothing out of them and I could barely do any. So damn frustrating.
It was at this point I decided to give up. A little bit later I emailed Patrick, saying how it felt like I hadn't made any progress, and that I couldn't go on any longer, and then I went on a bike ride that lasted for about 2-3 hours while listening to blues.
I came back, checked my email, and this is what Pat sent me:
"Whoa, meltdown! Awesome dude,
Slow your roll man. Believe it or not, how you're feeling is very much like how I felt around the Day 60 mark. You've been working really hard, and your body is getting fatigued. Couple that with not enough sleep and you'll be a wreck.
Take a few days off if you need to. Consider this meltdown as a kind of sickness, and do as I advised if you caught a cold.
The weight gain is a good thing. 15 pounds is awesome, even if some of it goes the love handles. You're in the middle of a major body revision, and it's going to take up to two years to really convince your body that you're not satisfied with being an ectomorph. That doesn't mean 2 years like the PCP. These first 90 days are like someone giving you a push as you take off on a long bike ride. In the final month we'll talk about how to transition to more sustainable strategies.
Chat me up when you have the time man, and don't freak out, what you're going through is totally normal. If not for privacy concerns I'd forward you all the other meltdown emails I've received over the years. You're cool man!"
That, I admit, really chilled me out. So I leave you with this: a little while ago I thought to myself that I'm probably not going to be where I want to be at the end of the PCP. And that's ok. I realized that this is a starting point, a first step. Every house needs a good foundation. The PCP is that foundation.
Edit: Forgot to add the pics.
Rope - http://imgur.com/9tyxD.jpg
R. band - http://imgur.com/eF0XC.jpg
Edit: Forgot to add the pics.
Rope - http://imgur.com/9tyxD.jpg
R. band - http://imgur.com/eF0XC.jpg
Monday, July 27, 2009
Weird day
So, today was a little odd. I was hella sluggish all day, and I wasn't quite sure why. The workout nearly killed me. I managed to do everything, but it was all spaced out. No good. Not good at all.
So, after the shoulder fly, only the v-sit and side crunch remained, yet I was feeling a bit nauseous, and ab workouts were the last thing I wanted to do, so I just kind of sat down in a chair in my room and read some of a book. With each second, it was like this little voice kept saying whispering "yo, go lay on your bed" until it was eventually yelling, so I did what it said. I laid down and practically passed out. I wouldn't call it sleep. It started out with me resting, just thinking about shit to pass the time, while still being consciously aware of my body, but I don't know what would have happened if I tried to move. I thought about it, but that thought, "naah, this feels too good, I'll just chill here fore a little bit longer." Then after what felt like five minutes passed, I decided to get up, except it felt like I was waking up from my thoughts. Also, it was at least 20 minutes later. Really strange.
Anyway, I got up, watched some TV for like, 25 minutes before my parents came home and kicked me out of the living room, where I went up to my room and completely destroyed the ab workouts. Well, the v-sit was really hard for some reason, but the side crunch was awesome and I did a couple extra sets. Guess I just needed a nap? The weird thing is that this is becoming a regular thing for me. I've been sleeping later, waking up later, and been needing naps. So strange. Tonight I'm going to go to bed before 12 and try to wake up at 7-ish.
One thing that pissed me off was dinner. A while ago, back in June, I went to cook some chicken I had stored in a plastic bag. It was fine during lunch I think, but when I opened the bag I was hit with this bad smell. Like a punch to the face. So, I go to make dinner, and the chicken smells fine. I start cooking it and it smells faintly like the chicken I tried to cook back in June, but not that bad, so I give it a shot. When it was finished, It smelled fine, but the after taste was similar to that smell. So, after much thought, I decided to toss it. Then I cooked some fresher chicken I bought that day, and it was fine... mostly. One small area of one of the pieces smelled funky, so I washed it pretty well, cooked both pieces up and they were way under my protein requirement. Like, 40 grams.
Oh well, at least Patrick's email was a lift. All the tips he suggested doing I've been doing recently. Blasting hard-core punk rock, visualizing various muscular people, telling myself that I want this. Even telling myself that this is nothing. That this is so damn easy. All of it helps and the fact that It seems like I'm on the right track makes me feel better.
Edit: Awesome, I feel slightly sick. It's probably not from the chicken, but the fact still remains that I feel like shit.
So, after the shoulder fly, only the v-sit and side crunch remained, yet I was feeling a bit nauseous, and ab workouts were the last thing I wanted to do, so I just kind of sat down in a chair in my room and read some of a book. With each second, it was like this little voice kept saying whispering "yo, go lay on your bed" until it was eventually yelling, so I did what it said. I laid down and practically passed out. I wouldn't call it sleep. It started out with me resting, just thinking about shit to pass the time, while still being consciously aware of my body, but I don't know what would have happened if I tried to move. I thought about it, but that thought, "naah, this feels too good, I'll just chill here fore a little bit longer." Then after what felt like five minutes passed, I decided to get up, except it felt like I was waking up from my thoughts. Also, it was at least 20 minutes later. Really strange.
Anyway, I got up, watched some TV for like, 25 minutes before my parents came home and kicked me out of the living room, where I went up to my room and completely destroyed the ab workouts. Well, the v-sit was really hard for some reason, but the side crunch was awesome and I did a couple extra sets. Guess I just needed a nap? The weird thing is that this is becoming a regular thing for me. I've been sleeping later, waking up later, and been needing naps. So strange. Tonight I'm going to go to bed before 12 and try to wake up at 7-ish.
One thing that pissed me off was dinner. A while ago, back in June, I went to cook some chicken I had stored in a plastic bag. It was fine during lunch I think, but when I opened the bag I was hit with this bad smell. Like a punch to the face. So, I go to make dinner, and the chicken smells fine. I start cooking it and it smells faintly like the chicken I tried to cook back in June, but not that bad, so I give it a shot. When it was finished, It smelled fine, but the after taste was similar to that smell. So, after much thought, I decided to toss it. Then I cooked some fresher chicken I bought that day, and it was fine... mostly. One small area of one of the pieces smelled funky, so I washed it pretty well, cooked both pieces up and they were way under my protein requirement. Like, 40 grams.
Oh well, at least Patrick's email was a lift. All the tips he suggested doing I've been doing recently. Blasting hard-core punk rock, visualizing various muscular people, telling myself that I want this. Even telling myself that this is nothing. That this is so damn easy. All of it helps and the fact that It seems like I'm on the right track makes me feel better.
Edit: Awesome, I feel slightly sick. It's probably not from the chicken, but the fact still remains that I feel like shit.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Frustrated
So, It occurred to me that I was doing the pull up completely wrong this entire time. The way I did it was that it worked out my biceps instead of my back. Actually, when it came down to it, all the back exercises seemed to just end up working my upper arms and not my back. And when I tried to do the pull ups properly, it felt like I was just working my shoulders. Very disheartening. The problem is that the door frame is too small, and all the door frames in my house are like that. I think I'll try and find other ways to work my back and do those in some spare time I have.
Today was pretty interesting; I had a weird dream last night. The essential part of it was that I somehow lost the ability to walk, so I went to my place of work to tell my boss, and he said that he would keep me on, but he'd have to pay me less. So that pissed me off - I rolled off in my wheelchair into the parking lot, where I was like, "man, fuck this!" and exerted a ton of effort and stood up. I think that little bit of hardcore-ness was because of the intense chest dips I did earlier in the week. So I walk back into the store, victorious, and am like, "Yo, check it out bitches! I can walk again!" and they were like, "Man, you're full of bullshit..." which also pissed me off.
I don't know about you guys, but dreams leave a taste in my mouth that effects the entire day. I don't find this to be a problem, I feel like it gives each day a different feel, and that's nice.
Especially today, because when I woke up, I felt very bitter and pissed off. Now, while at home, obviously I interact with my family, and that's different than the way I interact with any other person, which means that while I was at home I could just sort of mope about and make my breakfast and not give it much thought. So, then I went to work, with this bad taste in my mouth. Now, yesterday, I had this idea. After analyzing my own behavior over the course of the past two months, I decided to post my conclusion on Facebook. "In my short life one of the things I've learned is that if you're nice to people, even the assholes, good things will happen to you." I got a ton of responses to it. Another effect it had was that it really made me internalize that philosophy.
Of course, the point is that you aren't nice to people because you want nice things to happen to you. It's only if you're nice to people because you care about them; because you want to connect with another human being. Out of empathy.
So, I go to work, I'm a little pissed off, I have this philosophy really internalized and I begin to interact with customers. And I notice a startling dissonance. I intend to be nice, but everything about me is caustic and sharp, and I am shocked by it. I try harder to be nice, and it actually gets worse. Eventually I just cave to the fact that I'm kind of in a bad mood. I don't force a pleasant expression. I simply relax and speak with the intent to connect and be earnest about what I say. Lo and behold, things get better. My mood lifts and by the time I leave I'm walking on fuckin' sunshine.
My mom showed up to give me a ride and she decided to get some groceries while she was there, so I told her I'd wait outside, seeing as how the sun was out. So I popped in my headphones and just chilled on a bench, and it was awesome. It was like I felt the ebb and flow of the world around me. Then this old lady walked up to me and started talking to me, which I welcomed fully. She told me about her grandson in Afghanistan, how she tried to talk him out of joining the military.
This is a huge step forward, in my eyes. For me, I usually feel like there is this "emotional grease" that sticks to my mood. Anxiety, rage, contempt. Sticks to me and nothing usually gets rid of it. Slow breathing, for example, is the equivalent of running hot water over it. Does jack shit. Today, the "grease" was that of contempt, maybe a little rage. The method of removal was equivalent to taking a chisel and scraping that shit off.
To me, this proves that I'm becoming more mindful.
Today was pretty interesting; I had a weird dream last night. The essential part of it was that I somehow lost the ability to walk, so I went to my place of work to tell my boss, and he said that he would keep me on, but he'd have to pay me less. So that pissed me off - I rolled off in my wheelchair into the parking lot, where I was like, "man, fuck this!" and exerted a ton of effort and stood up. I think that little bit of hardcore-ness was because of the intense chest dips I did earlier in the week. So I walk back into the store, victorious, and am like, "Yo, check it out bitches! I can walk again!" and they were like, "Man, you're full of bullshit..." which also pissed me off.
I don't know about you guys, but dreams leave a taste in my mouth that effects the entire day. I don't find this to be a problem, I feel like it gives each day a different feel, and that's nice.
Especially today, because when I woke up, I felt very bitter and pissed off. Now, while at home, obviously I interact with my family, and that's different than the way I interact with any other person, which means that while I was at home I could just sort of mope about and make my breakfast and not give it much thought. So, then I went to work, with this bad taste in my mouth. Now, yesterday, I had this idea. After analyzing my own behavior over the course of the past two months, I decided to post my conclusion on Facebook. "In my short life one of the things I've learned is that if you're nice to people, even the assholes, good things will happen to you." I got a ton of responses to it. Another effect it had was that it really made me internalize that philosophy.
Of course, the point is that you aren't nice to people because you want nice things to happen to you. It's only if you're nice to people because you care about them; because you want to connect with another human being. Out of empathy.
So, I go to work, I'm a little pissed off, I have this philosophy really internalized and I begin to interact with customers. And I notice a startling dissonance. I intend to be nice, but everything about me is caustic and sharp, and I am shocked by it. I try harder to be nice, and it actually gets worse. Eventually I just cave to the fact that I'm kind of in a bad mood. I don't force a pleasant expression. I simply relax and speak with the intent to connect and be earnest about what I say. Lo and behold, things get better. My mood lifts and by the time I leave I'm walking on fuckin' sunshine.
My mom showed up to give me a ride and she decided to get some groceries while she was there, so I told her I'd wait outside, seeing as how the sun was out. So I popped in my headphones and just chilled on a bench, and it was awesome. It was like I felt the ebb and flow of the world around me. Then this old lady walked up to me and started talking to me, which I welcomed fully. She told me about her grandson in Afghanistan, how she tried to talk him out of joining the military.
This is a huge step forward, in my eyes. For me, I usually feel like there is this "emotional grease" that sticks to my mood. Anxiety, rage, contempt. Sticks to me and nothing usually gets rid of it. Slow breathing, for example, is the equivalent of running hot water over it. Does jack shit. Today, the "grease" was that of contempt, maybe a little rage. The method of removal was equivalent to taking a chisel and scraping that shit off.
To me, this proves that I'm becoming more mindful.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
God damn I'm tired....
Today was rather epic. My workout was really intense. I totally pushed pass muscle failure several times. I guess because of that it's not really muscle failure. In anycase, it was awesome.
I was going to write something about the difference between knowing something and feeling something, but I'm too damn tired.
In the past couple of days, my overall attitude to the PCP has been rather lackadaisical. I don't mean to say I'm becoming apathetic or lazy towards it. Just more relaxed. And I assume that due to this relaxation, I was able to have a more intense workout.
Who knows?
I totally ended today with reading Thomas Pynchon and listening to jazz. So rad. Though, I guess technically I'm ending the day with a blog post... huh. Whatever.
Peace out
I was going to write something about the difference between knowing something and feeling something, but I'm too damn tired.
In the past couple of days, my overall attitude to the PCP has been rather lackadaisical. I don't mean to say I'm becoming apathetic or lazy towards it. Just more relaxed. And I assume that due to this relaxation, I was able to have a more intense workout.
Who knows?
I totally ended today with reading Thomas Pynchon and listening to jazz. So rad. Though, I guess technically I'm ending the day with a blog post... huh. Whatever.
Peace out
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Such a drag...
I don't know what it was, but my muscles were just like, "fuck you" today.
Well, I did accidentally do day 51 on day 50, and day 52 on 51, so I decided to do 50 today, except with 8 2-min sets of jumps. It was really only the leg exercises that felt like a drag. The shoulders are always tough. The V-sit I got a little nauseous in the middle (kind of weird) but the side crunches I blasted through.
Oh, and the jump rope is a fuckin' breeze. Probably my favorite part now, next to the floor jump and the side crunch.
Well, I did accidentally do day 51 on day 50, and day 52 on 51, so I decided to do 50 today, except with 8 2-min sets of jumps. It was really only the leg exercises that felt like a drag. The shoulders are always tough. The V-sit I got a little nauseous in the middle (kind of weird) but the side crunches I blasted through.
Oh, and the jump rope is a fuckin' breeze. Probably my favorite part now, next to the floor jump and the side crunch.
"Depression is anger without motivation"
Most of my adolescent life has seen depression, anxiety, despair, and apathy, all interspersed with sudden bouts of intense rage. Why was it like this? Well, for many reasons. One reason is that this house is a complete mess. A total dump. The fridge is filled with so much crap. Some food, most non-food. Some leftovers that have turned to complete mold. When I say this place is a dump, I don't mean it's just messy, disorganized. It's more than that, it's a god damn health hazard. It has me pissed off so much; there was a fly buzzing around our kitchen, so I slapped it out of the air and punched the fuck out of it while it was twitching on the counter (in my defense, I missed the trash day so our garbage cans have been inundated with maggots. To say the least, I am not a very big fan of flies right now)
On the positive side, my family's absence allowed me to be free in my own home. Three weeks of unchecked growth. My biggest concern is that it would all be hacked away upon their return, but it seems I have nothing to worry about. The growth continues.
Consulting memory, I can see that I'm sick a lot. I mean like, almost once a month. Sometimes, if I don't sleep it off in the first three days, it sticks with me for weeks. Hell, I think I might be sick right now. The project has given me a higher awareness of my body. I can feel things that I couldn't really feel before. One of these things is this constant drag I've been feeling. It feels a lot like a sickness that won't go away.
Maybe, you know, if my immune system wasn't under constant assault, I'd have a little more energy.
So frustrated. Depression is anger without motivation, and lately, I've been really fuckin' motivated.
On the positive side, my family's absence allowed me to be free in my own home. Three weeks of unchecked growth. My biggest concern is that it would all be hacked away upon their return, but it seems I have nothing to worry about. The growth continues.
Consulting memory, I can see that I'm sick a lot. I mean like, almost once a month. Sometimes, if I don't sleep it off in the first three days, it sticks with me for weeks. Hell, I think I might be sick right now. The project has given me a higher awareness of my body. I can feel things that I couldn't really feel before. One of these things is this constant drag I've been feeling. It feels a lot like a sickness that won't go away.
Maybe, you know, if my immune system wasn't under constant assault, I'd have a little more energy.
So frustrated. Depression is anger without motivation, and lately, I've been really fuckin' motivated.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Interesting shift
Damn, I'm posting a lot today.
Today at work I made small talk in Russian with a Bulgarian woman. I can't remember the exact words I used but I know I was speaking fluently and it wasn't English. I remember continuing eating my food (I was on break) and then being like, "holy shit! I just had an entire conversation in Russian!" I nearly choked.
And then when we closed up, I met two Buddhist monks. They live in this house up the street from my job, I'm assuming with other monks. Tibentan Buddhist, by the way. I told them that I'm a buddhist, "I think, I don't really know, I mean I meditate every night, like this," folding my hands into the cosmic mudra, and they said, "oh yes, that's very good." They invited me to visit the house any time, so I think I might do that. Except, I have some hang ups. Specifically, the Dalai Lama's despotism and the rivalry between the Tibetan sects. I heard that the two groups fight alot. Seriously, man, what's the deal, I thought you were all supposed to be peaceful and compassionate.
And holy crap! I just read Patricks email about flossing. Time and time again, I am astounded by what seems to be luck. They say that starting flossing is about as hard as it is to quit cigarettes. The funny thing is that lately I've had these weird urges to floss my teeth. It just feels good for some reason.
Seriously, shit is continually handed to me on a plate. It's like I don't have to work for anything.
Today at work I made small talk in Russian with a Bulgarian woman. I can't remember the exact words I used but I know I was speaking fluently and it wasn't English. I remember continuing eating my food (I was on break) and then being like, "holy shit! I just had an entire conversation in Russian!" I nearly choked.
And then when we closed up, I met two Buddhist monks. They live in this house up the street from my job, I'm assuming with other monks. Tibentan Buddhist, by the way. I told them that I'm a buddhist, "I think, I don't really know, I mean I meditate every night, like this," folding my hands into the cosmic mudra, and they said, "oh yes, that's very good." They invited me to visit the house any time, so I think I might do that. Except, I have some hang ups. Specifically, the Dalai Lama's despotism and the rivalry between the Tibetan sects. I heard that the two groups fight alot. Seriously, man, what's the deal, I thought you were all supposed to be peaceful and compassionate.
And holy crap! I just read Patricks email about flossing. Time and time again, I am astounded by what seems to be luck. They say that starting flossing is about as hard as it is to quit cigarettes. The funny thing is that lately I've had these weird urges to floss my teeth. It just feels good for some reason.
Seriously, shit is continually handed to me on a plate. It's like I don't have to work for anything.
Also...
What does everyone think of television? Just curious - I stopped watching TV all together between feb and july, then started watching it like an addict while my folks were away.
Damn you, carbs!
The past couple of days have had many hiccups. My parents have come back and their reintegration has made it bumpy. I've managed to complete my workouts (mostly, I think it was yesterday that I could only complete half of the plank sets and forgot to do the rest later), but I've had to cut my diet a little bit. Last night because I just couldn't stuff all that food in my stomach and this morning because I thought I had work so I ate as much as I can before 9 am. Turns out that my shift was three to nine and not nine to three. God dammit. I'll now be working nights instead of mornings, which might be better. This means that I can do my work out in the morning on tuesday.
Also, it wasn't a total loss. I found a spanish-english dictionary and an issue of "chinese intellectual" - I'm always looking for things to teach/help teach me a language. Also, one of the girls I work with looked pretty cute today.
Also, it wasn't a total loss. I found a spanish-english dictionary and an issue of "chinese intellectual" - I'm always looking for things to teach/help teach me a language. Also, one of the girls I work with looked pretty cute today.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
New Picture arriving.... now
So yeah, nothing necessarily dramatic, but you can kind of see a slight difference. I look healthier and my shoulders look broader. And my hair grew. Though, to me, the most outstanding things seem to be that my shoulders are more uneven (thanks, scoliosis!) and that my stomach seems to bulge a little more.
Of course, these are not new. They are not as apparent in the other pictures, and I think that's due to the fact that in general I'm more relaxed now than I was. So, that is actually awesome.
I don't know much about scoliosis, but for a while I've thought that if I was fit then it would go away. Now, I'm not so sure. If scoliosis is genetic and not caused by constantly hunching over for 15 years straight, then I might be screwed.
I asked my mom what fixes scoliosis, wondering if she'd give me an answer other than a brace or the operating table. she didn't.
Still, I wonder, how many people have scoliosis and how many of those people are in shape, let alone in "peak condition"? I suppose some light google searching would reveal the anweres I'm looking for, but I think I'll go make dinner instead - save the research for tomorrow.
Of course, these are not new. They are not as apparent in the other pictures, and I think that's due to the fact that in general I'm more relaxed now than I was. So, that is actually awesome.
I don't know much about scoliosis, but for a while I've thought that if I was fit then it would go away. Now, I'm not so sure. If scoliosis is genetic and not caused by constantly hunching over for 15 years straight, then I might be screwed.
I asked my mom what fixes scoliosis, wondering if she'd give me an answer other than a brace or the operating table. she didn't.
Still, I wonder, how many people have scoliosis and how many of those people are in shape, let alone in "peak condition"? I suppose some light google searching would reveal the anweres I'm looking for, but I think I'll go make dinner instead - save the research for tomorrow.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
New picture arriving soon...
Today I should be able to submit a new weekly photo. That is, when my parent's return home. They went on vacation at the end of June. Week 4, I think. Anyway, I looked at my week 2 photo for the first time in almost a month and it was a little shocking. I don't have anything to compare to it directly, but I just look so damn skinny in that picture. And gaunt... and kind of ill-looking. I look like a breeze could kill me. lol ok, maybe I'm being a little dramatic. Once I get a new pic up we'll be able to see. There probably won't be too much of a difference. Probably the same only I'll look healthier in the new one.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
I can ride my bike with no handlebars
No, really, I can.
I mean to say that, I never could before, but since I bought my bike in May, I would try occasionally and pretty much fail. Today I tried and my hand were clear off the handlebars for like, 13 seconds before I decided to grab them again. That is that I didn't start to lose control, I just felt like riding normally.
As far as the project goes, it's going ok. Tuesday I had work, so I didn't work out in the morning, and decided to do it at night. Except, I accidentally took some keys home and had to return them before the store closed. I ride down and I run into a friend I haven't seen in a while. It turns out he's free tonight and I can choose between doing the project or hanging out with him; I choose the latter on the logic that I can just make up for it tomorrow (funny that the day 45 email would be about not trying to "make up" lost exercise). The next day was pretty awesome. I kicked complete ass in the workout. I managed to do 500 jumps in a row three times (though, my abs failed half-way through the side crunches and I forgot to to them later in the day). Today I barely got out alive, but I did do everything. I was so damn sluggish. My muscles were failing left and right. Why today and yesterday played out like that are pretty obvious and proof that maintaining a constant routine are vital.
I dunno, do I wish I had done my sets instead of seeing "Bruno" with an old friend? Maybe. But I feel like I got more out of that night than I think. I mean, I really pumped myself up to do two days in one. Oh well, who knows?
On another note, I've been experiencing some weird things lately. Let me be specific: I mean weird mental states. For instance, my dreaming is becoming a little odd. The combination of good health and nightly meditation has made my dream recall better, and it has made dreams increadingly more vivid. Whenever you wake up and remember the dream, is there a dissonance? Like, are you dreaming, and then all of a sudden awake, as like a scene change in a movie? For me it usually is, but a while ago I was able to remember the dream fading and then myself slipping out of the chrysalis of the dream state into the waking state. It was pretty cool. Then, the other day, I experienced the same thing only it hurt. That's right, it fuckin' hurt - around my head and that's it. It was as if in order to wake up I had to run through a brick wall that was separating waking from dreaming. It was really cool and may have shed light on why I feel so unnaturally groggy when I wake up.
Also, my mind wanders all over the place, and it sort of trails down whatever thought it gets a hold of until it finds another topic of interest or until I bring myself to the present. I often experince a sudden dissonance between the experience of my last thought and the "snapping back to reality", and like a dream I can't really remember what the thought was like and I can't really remember transitioning from the thought to the present. Except today I had an experience similar to the one where I was waking, I felt my mind shift, rather violently I might add, from the day dream to the present. I was so immersed in the thought (which I can't remember by the way) that it was almost as if I was in one physical reality and then pulled into another.
It also occurs to me that whenever I talk about stuff like this, I usually feel like a lunatic but that's ok, I enjoy talking about them.
Oh, and yeah I mispelled Kellogg's in my last post.
I mean to say that, I never could before, but since I bought my bike in May, I would try occasionally and pretty much fail. Today I tried and my hand were clear off the handlebars for like, 13 seconds before I decided to grab them again. That is that I didn't start to lose control, I just felt like riding normally.
As far as the project goes, it's going ok. Tuesday I had work, so I didn't work out in the morning, and decided to do it at night. Except, I accidentally took some keys home and had to return them before the store closed. I ride down and I run into a friend I haven't seen in a while. It turns out he's free tonight and I can choose between doing the project or hanging out with him; I choose the latter on the logic that I can just make up for it tomorrow (funny that the day 45 email would be about not trying to "make up" lost exercise). The next day was pretty awesome. I kicked complete ass in the workout. I managed to do 500 jumps in a row three times (though, my abs failed half-way through the side crunches and I forgot to to them later in the day). Today I barely got out alive, but I did do everything. I was so damn sluggish. My muscles were failing left and right. Why today and yesterday played out like that are pretty obvious and proof that maintaining a constant routine are vital.
I dunno, do I wish I had done my sets instead of seeing "Bruno" with an old friend? Maybe. But I feel like I got more out of that night than I think. I mean, I really pumped myself up to do two days in one. Oh well, who knows?
On another note, I've been experiencing some weird things lately. Let me be specific: I mean weird mental states. For instance, my dreaming is becoming a little odd. The combination of good health and nightly meditation has made my dream recall better, and it has made dreams increadingly more vivid. Whenever you wake up and remember the dream, is there a dissonance? Like, are you dreaming, and then all of a sudden awake, as like a scene change in a movie? For me it usually is, but a while ago I was able to remember the dream fading and then myself slipping out of the chrysalis of the dream state into the waking state. It was pretty cool. Then, the other day, I experienced the same thing only it hurt. That's right, it fuckin' hurt - around my head and that's it. It was as if in order to wake up I had to run through a brick wall that was separating waking from dreaming. It was really cool and may have shed light on why I feel so unnaturally groggy when I wake up.
Also, my mind wanders all over the place, and it sort of trails down whatever thought it gets a hold of until it finds another topic of interest or until I bring myself to the present. I often experince a sudden dissonance between the experience of my last thought and the "snapping back to reality", and like a dream I can't really remember what the thought was like and I can't really remember transitioning from the thought to the present. Except today I had an experience similar to the one where I was waking, I felt my mind shift, rather violently I might add, from the day dream to the present. I was so immersed in the thought (which I can't remember by the way) that it was almost as if I was in one physical reality and then pulled into another.
It also occurs to me that whenever I talk about stuff like this, I usually feel like a lunatic but that's ok, I enjoy talking about them.
Oh, and yeah I mispelled Kellogg's in my last post.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Kellog's sucks
The other day I decided to shop at my place of work for food instead of the competition, and saw that we only had one kind of granola in stock - Kellog's. I had this odd feeling of hesitation but shrugged it off and bought it anyway. When I got home and opened the box I didn't see anything that resembled the other granola I bought. I looked at the ingredients and there was a stark contrast. The original granola I buy all had things I could recognize. Oats, honey, sugar, coconut oil. Ok, so, not the healthiest stuff, but at least I knew what everything was. This crap had - well shit, I don't even know. I'm rather confident that a good 60 percent of the ingredients were manmade. Also, it tasted odd. And the texture was a little messed up. I feel like if this was pre-PCP i'd enjoy it, but right now it was kind of gross. It was sweet, which was nice, but it had this obviously synthetic taste to it.
So, I was curious, and decided to eat a few bowls for the snack. Big surprise, it just made me feel kind of shitty.
Also, Kellog's dropped Micheal Phelps after that whole cannabis scandle a while back. For real? If he was doing coke or shooting up heroin, then yes, I could understand. But not weed.
In conclusion, fuck you, Kellog's. Your cereal wouldn't be appealing even if I was dying from the munchies.
So, I was curious, and decided to eat a few bowls for the snack. Big surprise, it just made me feel kind of shitty.
Also, Kellog's dropped Micheal Phelps after that whole cannabis scandle a while back. For real? If he was doing coke or shooting up heroin, then yes, I could understand. But not weed.
In conclusion, fuck you, Kellog's. Your cereal wouldn't be appealing even if I was dying from the munchies.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
ch-ch-ch-ch-changes!
Ok, so, things have changed a lot this year. Like, more that any year of my life. I have grown more in the past 5 months than I have in the past 8 years. Starting with January, have average habits, which in my case is chilling at my house a decent amount and going out on weekends or nights where I didn't have work in the morning. Then somehow this fiesty Australian chick gets caught up in my group of friends, and we all hang out at her place with an increasing frequency where at some points there would be weekends where I wouldn't even be at my house.
This started in february and lasted until april. I was drunk or high more times than I was sober and my diet was utter crap. Those months left me a little scarred.
Though, if I said I regretted any of it, I would be lying
Then one of us left for boot camp. Actually, I vaguely remember thinking, that before all this started, I would turn my life around and finally get healthy after Nik left - that this was just one big "good-bye" party, which it was (during those months I forgot all about that, but I guess it was rooted deep enough to stick around.) Then that spunky Aussie and her chill roomate moved to another house, so things got disrupted even more. The new arrangements meant that we couldnt' maintain the old habits as frequently.
Then weed started giving me panic attacks. That was basically where it ended for me. It was coming to a slow trickle before actually stopping. I went from my normal habits, to being hyper social, to hanging out at my house every night with the internet and videogames, occasionally going out.
In that first month, when I was surfing the internets, I came across Patrick's zazen video, which lead me to Zen is Stupid. That there was a catalyst. Before May was even half over, I started meditating again, every night, and I started eating better foods and riding my bike more often, and then eventually joined the PCP. A lot of other stuff happened between those times, but whatever. That is a level of detail I do not want to venture into.
What is the point of this entry? I have no idea. I feel like I originally had one, and this is like the third time I've typed this particular "story" out. Not because I'm giving it multiple drafts and trying to make it perfect, but because I started typing and I couldn't help but type this. Once I realized what I was talking about, I thought, "nah, they don't want to hear about this, there is no point to it anyway", but I can't get rid of it.
So, in summary, what we have is basically my group of friends falling apart. And for me, you have a self-imposed isolation. Why? I couldn't tell you. It wasn't explained to me why I decided to do this. "I stopped hanging out with them because I didn't want to get messed up anymore" could be a reason, but It feels really lack luster. I could have made the effort, and just stayed sober, but I didn't, I had no impulse to go out and socialize. I'm kind of glad I didn't, though, because again, I have learned a lot in these past months by my self.
But yeah, as of now, I feel lonely. I won't lie. I've been feeling it for a couple of weeks now, but for the past couple of days, it's been rather heavy. And I use that word for a reason. I have felt a little "down-trodden" lately. Tired, sluggish, listless. Maybe the lack of social interaction has a part to play?
Oh, another interesting note - for the past week and a half, my parents have been in New Hampshire, so I've had the house to myself. It's been nice, but I noticed that within hours of being alone, I felt this biting emtiness. I suddenly couldn't take being alone. But I sucked it up. The reason why It was hitting me now I think as opposed to earlier was because I had my family around to at least provide a backround noise at all times. I also didn't go out and seek company because it wasn't that bad and I had the project to do.
And that's really what it is - I choose better health over comraderie and partying.
If I said I regretted it, I'd be lying.
I feel. I feel a hell of a lot. More than I did before I started the project.
So I'm making a few changes. I'm getting up early to do my work outs in the morning. Get them out of the way so my nights are free. Its at night when I get the lonliest anyway. I'm also planning better. Going to get mathematical and calculate what I need to buy and when so there are no more moments of "Oh, FUCK! I'm out of eggs..."
I think it's time I ended this long string of words, but before I do, a comment on my inspiration figure. During week 1 or 2, I was reminded about Burn Notice, which I used to watch not too long ago, and thought "damn, I should have used Jeffery Donovan as my inspirational figure!" But then I thought about it for a second. Jeffery Donavan, or Micheal Weston - the character he plays - is a mother fuckin' badass. He can do pretty much anything and he's got that moral code. He could probably also seduce a lot of hot babes easily, but he doesn't. That shows restraint which is also badass. Pretty awesome, right? Well, no. First off, he's not free. He is a slave, a tool of the "higher ups", granted it's not willing, he is trying to get his life back, but he's still a slave. David Belle is the founder of Parkour and the philosophy behind Parkour is freedom. Freedom of movement. Free Runners flow like water around obstacles. To me, being able to be free like water is way better than being like a super spy on a leash in a cage.
This started in february and lasted until april. I was drunk or high more times than I was sober and my diet was utter crap. Those months left me a little scarred.
Though, if I said I regretted any of it, I would be lying
Then one of us left for boot camp. Actually, I vaguely remember thinking, that before all this started, I would turn my life around and finally get healthy after Nik left - that this was just one big "good-bye" party, which it was (during those months I forgot all about that, but I guess it was rooted deep enough to stick around.) Then that spunky Aussie and her chill roomate moved to another house, so things got disrupted even more. The new arrangements meant that we couldnt' maintain the old habits as frequently.
Then weed started giving me panic attacks. That was basically where it ended for me. It was coming to a slow trickle before actually stopping. I went from my normal habits, to being hyper social, to hanging out at my house every night with the internet and videogames, occasionally going out.
In that first month, when I was surfing the internets, I came across Patrick's zazen video, which lead me to Zen is Stupid. That there was a catalyst. Before May was even half over, I started meditating again, every night, and I started eating better foods and riding my bike more often, and then eventually joined the PCP. A lot of other stuff happened between those times, but whatever. That is a level of detail I do not want to venture into.
What is the point of this entry? I have no idea. I feel like I originally had one, and this is like the third time I've typed this particular "story" out. Not because I'm giving it multiple drafts and trying to make it perfect, but because I started typing and I couldn't help but type this. Once I realized what I was talking about, I thought, "nah, they don't want to hear about this, there is no point to it anyway", but I can't get rid of it.
So, in summary, what we have is basically my group of friends falling apart. And for me, you have a self-imposed isolation. Why? I couldn't tell you. It wasn't explained to me why I decided to do this. "I stopped hanging out with them because I didn't want to get messed up anymore" could be a reason, but It feels really lack luster. I could have made the effort, and just stayed sober, but I didn't, I had no impulse to go out and socialize. I'm kind of glad I didn't, though, because again, I have learned a lot in these past months by my self.
But yeah, as of now, I feel lonely. I won't lie. I've been feeling it for a couple of weeks now, but for the past couple of days, it's been rather heavy. And I use that word for a reason. I have felt a little "down-trodden" lately. Tired, sluggish, listless. Maybe the lack of social interaction has a part to play?
Oh, another interesting note - for the past week and a half, my parents have been in New Hampshire, so I've had the house to myself. It's been nice, but I noticed that within hours of being alone, I felt this biting emtiness. I suddenly couldn't take being alone. But I sucked it up. The reason why It was hitting me now I think as opposed to earlier was because I had my family around to at least provide a backround noise at all times. I also didn't go out and seek company because it wasn't that bad and I had the project to do.
And that's really what it is - I choose better health over comraderie and partying.
If I said I regretted it, I'd be lying.
I feel. I feel a hell of a lot. More than I did before I started the project.
So I'm making a few changes. I'm getting up early to do my work outs in the morning. Get them out of the way so my nights are free. Its at night when I get the lonliest anyway. I'm also planning better. Going to get mathematical and calculate what I need to buy and when so there are no more moments of "Oh, FUCK! I'm out of eggs..."
I think it's time I ended this long string of words, but before I do, a comment on my inspiration figure. During week 1 or 2, I was reminded about Burn Notice, which I used to watch not too long ago, and thought "damn, I should have used Jeffery Donovan as my inspirational figure!" But then I thought about it for a second. Jeffery Donavan, or Micheal Weston - the character he plays - is a mother fuckin' badass. He can do pretty much anything and he's got that moral code. He could probably also seduce a lot of hot babes easily, but he doesn't. That shows restraint which is also badass. Pretty awesome, right? Well, no. First off, he's not free. He is a slave, a tool of the "higher ups", granted it's not willing, he is trying to get his life back, but he's still a slave. David Belle is the founder of Parkour and the philosophy behind Parkour is freedom. Freedom of movement. Free Runners flow like water around obstacles. To me, being able to be free like water is way better than being like a super spy on a leash in a cage.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
budem veselit'sya, i budem tantsevat'!
So, my friend totally crapped out on me and didn't help me fix my comp. That means for the time being I have a very expensive paperweight. In the mean time, I can get a library card and use the computers at the library.
Today I was so god damn sluggish. Now, look, I'm a lazy sonofabitch, but this was just bad, even for me. I barely got through the exercise. And, 1400 jumps? Come on, lets me honest, that's nothing. I did 1350 yesterday, easy, in addition to the rest of the work out. I do not know why today was so bad. I don't know if I got enough sleep. I did sleep for 8 hours last night (and I remembered some dreams for the first time in almost a week. hell yeah) but I'm beginning to think I may need more than that.
A cool thing to note; I was reading After Many A Summer by Aldous Huxley and I started to become very drowsy - and then passed out. Then I was carrying some stuff, and listening to this guy in a clear rain parka and this aluminum pole with a net on the end (you know, one of those pool cleaning nets). and he said "just go dump that shit up there, in that shed", pointing to this wooden building atop this hill, with wooden stairs leading up to it. He left to go clean his pool and I began to walk up the stairs with all this crap in my arms. And then I fell backards.
And then I was snapping forward in my recliner, completely confused, looking at the book in my hands and thinking, "wait, how the hell did I get here? Was that a dream? Jesus Christ.." It was so incredibly vivid that It took me a solid ten seconds to start to realize what happened.
I mention it because I pay massive attention to my dreams and I love hearing about the dreams of others. Though, I don't think they have any hidden meaning. Oneirology is BS if you ask me. A dream has a central theme to it with tons of other random crap floating along, like the events of your day if you dropped 3 tabs of acid.
Though, I guess sometimes they aren't weird, like the dream I just mentioned; It was so vivid and normal - I think if something odd happened, I would have been like, "wait, wtf?!" and become lucid.
Anyway, today was just weird and the 4th of july fireworks in Boston were amazing.
Oh, and the title is transliterated russian. It means, "lets have fun, and lets dance!" - it's the name of a song I was listening to while writing this.
Today I was so god damn sluggish. Now, look, I'm a lazy sonofabitch, but this was just bad, even for me. I barely got through the exercise. And, 1400 jumps? Come on, lets me honest, that's nothing. I did 1350 yesterday, easy, in addition to the rest of the work out. I do not know why today was so bad. I don't know if I got enough sleep. I did sleep for 8 hours last night (and I remembered some dreams for the first time in almost a week. hell yeah) but I'm beginning to think I may need more than that.
A cool thing to note; I was reading After Many A Summer by Aldous Huxley and I started to become very drowsy - and then passed out. Then I was carrying some stuff, and listening to this guy in a clear rain parka and this aluminum pole with a net on the end (you know, one of those pool cleaning nets). and he said "just go dump that shit up there, in that shed", pointing to this wooden building atop this hill, with wooden stairs leading up to it. He left to go clean his pool and I began to walk up the stairs with all this crap in my arms. And then I fell backards.
And then I was snapping forward in my recliner, completely confused, looking at the book in my hands and thinking, "wait, how the hell did I get here? Was that a dream? Jesus Christ.." It was so incredibly vivid that It took me a solid ten seconds to start to realize what happened.
I mention it because I pay massive attention to my dreams and I love hearing about the dreams of others. Though, I don't think they have any hidden meaning. Oneirology is BS if you ask me. A dream has a central theme to it with tons of other random crap floating along, like the events of your day if you dropped 3 tabs of acid.
Though, I guess sometimes they aren't weird, like the dream I just mentioned; It was so vivid and normal - I think if something odd happened, I would have been like, "wait, wtf?!" and become lucid.
Anyway, today was just weird and the 4th of july fireworks in Boston were amazing.
Oh, and the title is transliterated russian. It means, "lets have fun, and lets dance!" - it's the name of a song I was listening to while writing this.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Life as a comedy
Ever get that feeling that life is playing a joke on you?
I can't say things are bad, just comically unpleasent. My computer has been steadily dying of a virus and it has been raining here for the past two weeks almost none stop. Also, I think I might be getting sick. I dunno. This woman I work with came in sick but it looked almost like she was faking it. Hell, I should know - I would have recieved oscars for my performances back in the Arlington high school nurse office.
Otherwise, thr project is getting slightly easier. I continue to have success with the new jumprope.
And hoperully my friend can fix my comp on friday.
I can't say things are bad, just comically unpleasent. My computer has been steadily dying of a virus and it has been raining here for the past two weeks almost none stop. Also, I think I might be getting sick. I dunno. This woman I work with came in sick but it looked almost like she was faking it. Hell, I should know - I would have recieved oscars for my performances back in the Arlington high school nurse office.
Otherwise, thr project is getting slightly easier. I continue to have success with the new jumprope.
And hoperully my friend can fix my comp on friday.
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