Test Email Update Blog

Just testing out updating this blog via email!

Expounding on Ideas

Sorry, it’s been awhile since I posted. I assure you, I have been writing, I started work on a piece about compromise and it is turning into my master's thesis. I didn’t really want to post it piece by piece and unfortunately I just don’t have much time to expound on the radical ideas (lol) indicated within. I ran into the following quote that really sums up what I’ve been writing about, so instead of boring you to death for many a paragraph, enjoy a few sentences from someone who appears to be much more eloquent than I:

"We live in a time when society and the media and politics is searching for a victory rather than seeking truth. All sides want to prove the other side wrong. Not just wrong, but bad."

-Michael Harrison, publisher of the industry trade journal Talkers


But enough with that craziness, on to other more interesting topics like my lack of focus. It’s been one of those weeks, most of you know me, I’m not super duper positive but honestly it has been my resolution for a long time to do my best to spin that frown the other way. I think this week I’ve spun too far.

It’s a problem of self control, I’m damn lucky I’ve got a week body because I’d surely be some kind of addict by now if my body could handle it. It’s the little things I suppose. I’m really just vamping now, trying to think of something to talk about, and BAM it hits me right in the maw!

As most of you know I’ve been spending the last year making up for lost time on my Stella, her name is Paula, and recently I added a little performance upgrade to the engine in the form of a Malossi 166cc cylinder kit. I was told to go easy on her for the first 100 miles to break in the cylinder and to also check the plug to make sure she has the right air/fuel mixture. So I’m crusin’ along and I get up to 50 mph every now and then letting go of the throttle and dropping down one or two miles per hour, you know taking it easy. Meanwhile of course some ass comes creeping up on my butt. I think about tapping the brakes (which is not good motorcycle safety etiquette) but apparently Paula was one step ahead of me on that.

Engine seizure is what they call it apparently. I never really read up on engine seizure but it’s really quite jarring. Imagine riding in a car that someone else is driving. Now, imagine them slamming on the brakes without providing any forewarning at about 50 mile an hour. Yep, just about like that. Scared the Boy Scout of the Boy Scout leader who was tailgating me, glad the brakes on those SUVs work.

Without Practice

It’s like this: when I’m not inspired, don’t try to get me to write anything. You’ve probably noticed if you read this frequently, which you don’t, that my posts are quite infrequent. For instance, the last few days I’ve actually been nervous because I didn’t have and update and I really thought I’d been doing well on updates. I think the reason for this is that I have to be really inspired to put words down, if I’m not and I don’t feel what I do is going to be quality I won’t do it at all. This is something I need to get past, because good or bad, without practice, I’ll never get better.

Spaceman Jones arose from his space chamber. The clamber of the engines had ceased. The only meaning, they had landed.

As Old As You Feel

Waking every morning

To play at make believe

Putting on my big boy clothes

Suppress the scream that’s inside me

Everything seems the same

Routine Assimilation

Hiding behind the wind

A shield from your elation

Pound down the sun

Drowning in delirium

Find the hole and cut it wide

Broken down no place to die

I know, kind of dramatic right. I'm missing a lot of sleep today, and really I think the last two stanzas are mostly contrived. But that first stanza, that was magic!

The Left Offense

Today, I’d like to throw a little pity party for all my left-handed homies. As many may know, I’ve been taking Kung Fu for the last year or so and have been re-learning how to use my body. A lot of my study has been coming to terms with my left side, the obvious weaker side of my body. And when I say obvious, I mean obvious in comparison to that dude in Lady in the Water who only worked out one of his arms to make it super-buff in comparison to the arm that never got any work. First of all, I want to apologize to anyone who saw that movie, but if it’s any consolation, I saw it also. Secondly, the other day I was flexing in the mirror, as I like to do, and noticed a frightening difference in both of my arms. Now, this wasn’t necessarily the catalyst that pushed me into waking up my left side, I’d been doing that for quite some time, but now I’m doing just about everything I can we my left hand (insert innuendo, inyourendo).

This has brought to my attention all the little things in life that are specifically tailored for us righties, and it is some bullshit! There are door handles, DOOR HANDLES, which are specifically made for righties. We have these door handles at work, they kind of look like the letter J but backwards, not an L, well maybe a fancy L. The handles, oh they fit so snuggly when I’m opening them with my right, but when I use my left it’s like trying to find whatever it is they put in those magic-eye pictures! Call it what you will, right hand guilt or whatever, but I think south paws, got a bad hand dealt to them. HA!

Tying the Knot

No metaphor here. I was just walking around and noticed that my shoe laces had become untied. Normally, I would just ignore an untied shoe in hopes that it might just go away, but unfortunately the shoes I’m wearing have EXTREMELY long laces and this was just not something that could be left to ignorance.

I don’t tie my shoes very often. I’m the type who ties his shoes once, loosely enough to take on and off, and I think that has made me take for granted how beautiful the act of tying a knot is. Sometimes I think the tedium of the simple things make us overlook the skill and sheer beauty of that thing. I can remember, slightly, learning to tie my shoes; bits and pieces really. One thing I do remember was that it wasn’t easy, but the satisfaction of getting it right was cathartic, not that I knew at the time what that was (or even now). And the double knots! Oh the double knots, they were like legend until you learned how real they were yourself!

It’s been a weird day.

The Grandest of Malarky

It’s funny how the mind works. Right now, which is actually around 9:21am central time, I have the Red Hot Chilli Peppers song Scar Tissue stuck in my head. Now I will admit to not being the biggest RHCP fan, however I have heard the song in passing over the radio many times before I quit the radio habit (not true, I am still an NPR addict). I have not, however, heard Scar Tissue in many years, so the question then becomes: how did it get stuck in my head? Now keep in mind I’m not writing this to define what makes a good song. This isn’t about the critique of music, as much as it is about the catalyst that brought this melody out from the depths of my brain.

Last night, and I don’t remember how we got on the topic, but it was brought it up that most people have a bit of scar tissue in the chesticular region (again not a medical term). That’s the only thing I have to chalk it up having this (queue Morgan Freeman) damned song in my brain (end Morgan Freeman), but then, that brings about other questions. One could venture to guess, because in this case one doesn’t know, and one doesn’t listen (one being me), this scar tissue is brought about by breathing and other such physically laboring activities. That would be the obvious “scientific” explanation. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m totally down with science, my problem is that I’m not smart enough to comprehend it all, and my imagination usually gets the better of me (thus all the tin foil hats). I suppose I’m bound to become a conspiracy theorist, although I’ve never really been into aliens, or the government, but when my old imagination gets going look out for some GRAND malarkey (that’s right! I’m bringing it back).

So here it is, perhaps this “scar tissue” is actually caused by emotional pain, such as heart break. Evidence: The tissue does exist around the chest region and that is also where your heart is located, it’s so crazy it just might work! Imagine all the loss, regret, rejection, sadness, etc. builds up around your heart and in effect creates protective, useful barrier against future heartbreak. In all reality this is just another way of looking at a very ancient metaphor. Who knows maybe its roots were scientific, but… I doubt it.

Not quite sick but surely not well.

In all honesty, I’m kind of hoping there is something wrong with my Thyroid. Of course, no one wants a physical ailment, but to be totally frank I’d rather that there BE something legitimately wrong with me, then, at least I’d have an excuse and wouldn’t have to take the sole amount of the blame. Damn, that was a long sentence. Take that grammar.

For those of you that don’t know, after much deliberation, suffering and gnashing of teeth I visited the physician for ye olde yearly physicalle.. Yeah. The deal goes like this: it’s not that I don’t like doctors. I know there are A LOT of people out there who get frustrated with doctors because science is never that exact and that sometimes it can take a long time to get to the bottom to what is ailing you or a loved one. Yes, I get it: no one likes to suffer or much less watch their loved ones suffer, but a good majority of the time, I think people forget that science isn’t exact and that doctors are human, and from time to time make mistakes. It’s a sad fact of life. Rant off. What bothers me about doctors are the needles; I hate, nay HATE getting my blood drawn, but I felt my body reacting strangely (more than normal) lately and it had been a rather extended period since my last appointment, so I decided to suck it up.

Bravely with cowardice I made it through the appointment, I’m not going to say there wasn’t drama during the blood drawing process however, I never went out of my way to stop them (it’s not my fault all of their needles mysteriously vanished that morning). After getting the results of the blood test back, the next week, I found out that I might be slightly hypothyroidistic (not a medical term), and would need to come in for further tests. Of course my reaction went exactly like this: Come in for more blood test?! I was hoping you were going to ask. In fact if you didn’t ask I was going to volunteer! Okay, so it didn’t go much like that at all, but reluctantly I agreed to further scrutiny of my hemoglobin and booked another appointment.

My next appointment was in the morning before work. I should point out that I am not a morning person, but I was feeling strangely brave after my last bloodletting and had “got this.” Cut to my next appointment; I decided to opt for giving blood from my right arm, even though Jeni insisted I should use my left arm with some hocus pocus about left arm being more directly connected to the heart or some such. To be completely honest I wasn’t listening all that closely, one of my many fun failings. My thought was: I had just had blood drawn from my left arm it was still slightly bruised, my right arm was injured from Kung Fu so it already hurt, what could a little needle do… twice? Yeah, after the first pull I heard the words no one ever wants to her, “let’s try that again.”

Now I want you to understand, I am not mad at my doctor or with his vampire… er… blood-drawer guy. I would rather ALWAYS err on the side of caution. I will say this, I survived. I am alive and honestly, I’m not as worried for the next needle to come my way.