It is Sunday. I thought I’d type out a journal and post it instead of the usual long hand. The Gay Games ended yesterday with the closing ceremonies at Wrigley Field. One blogger commented that for once all the drunks on Addison and Clark were obnoxious gay people instead of drunk obnoxious straight people. The news is saying Daley is trying to use the success of the Games as a bullet point in securing the Olympics in 2016. Daley is also trying to prevent himself from being connected with a horrendous police torture scandal that has been coming to light – he’d been attorney general (is that right?) – during the abuse.
Worked a lot this weekend. Stayed inside mostly. Ron’s off to a ORD-SFO-Vancouer run and back. He’ll be back on Monday.
Pre-workout shake (isopure and avocado – not as gross as you might think) is chilling in the kitchen with a tray of ice in it.
Was reading an article in Men’s Health about the possibility that our modern shoes with too much support and padding actually cause our foot problems because they weaken the supporting muscles of the foot and ankle.
Does anyone else notice the terrible shame Men’s Health and Men’s Fitness are in lately? I don’t know if it is the FHM or what’s the other one? Maxim. I don’t know if it is those magazines having their effect but what’s a guy gotta do to get a good muscle magazine? I do sometimes get Muscle and Fitness which has great tips and articles but the guys in it sorta creep me out – they are true bodybuilder types where the guy has a head the size of a Volkswagen and his veins are the size or aircraft cable. And they always have that ‘I’M HUGE’ grin don’t they? That forced smile? And the photography in the magazines has really gone downhill as well. I might be forced to move to Fitness RX which at least has better layout and design. But I can’t stand Men’s Workout – have you seen that one? It’s so Intl Male meets 1980s porn.
I you had told me when I was 16 that I’d actually be a gym rat when I was in my 30s I would have thought you were crazy. My allergies were a gift and a curse. They kept me inside to learn piano, computers and studying but kept me off the field – I think dad’s recovered from not having a quarterback son – I think the globally published book makes up for it (I’m totally kidding, dad).
Talking with Sharon, my new marketing coordinator, today about the relaunch of Coachamatic. I haven’t blogged there in quite a while and am focused on other things now but I might as well have it be an active domain. I think it’ll be a fun project. Ron was glad to know that Sharon is part Filipina. I guess that’s some sort of quality control for him.
I love Ron, yes. But I also really like him a lot. Do you know what I mean? I love him and yadda yadda. But sometimes I watch him eat and I just smile. Isn’t that dorky? Or when we’re taking a shower. He likes to just stand there and enjoy the water (this explains why it takes him forever to get ready to go out). Or he’ll do a round of ‘Would you dump me if…?’ For example, he’ll walk down the street pigeon-toed or knock-kneed or with his wrists flailing and say ‘Would you dump me if I walked like this?’ I always say that barring any kind of neural damage from a car accident – YES. Or just his cut-up of the English language (purposeful and conscious of course). Like instead of ‘We will see.’ he’ll say ‘Be bill see.’ Or when somebody dressed garishly walks by and I can see Ron’s eyes widen and he bites his tongue trying not to say anything. A sample diagnosis: “Why is she wearing her hooker shoes before 10 o’clock?”
Remember when your teacher explained how o’clock meant ‘on the clock’? And you kept thinking why don’t people just say ‘on the clock’? And then they threw that bull about Hallowe’en and all the letters that apostrophe substitutes for.
I remember the day they taught has the first part of calculus – the part about the rate of the increasing velocity – I don’t think it’s the derivative – but the way that the whole world of math suddenly became meta. It had a whole other layer of complexity.
Maryam and Suzanne and friends called from Essex – the trip I missed out on. I sat in the airport all day on Thursday trying to get out. The rain had shut down O’Hare and my flight was delayed twice and then cancelled and I was put on standby for an already full flight and would then be flipped to the next morning which was also at high capacity. I had Ron checking the capacity of the flights from his login and it looked like I was doomed to spend another day in the airport waiting. I took the path of least resistance and came home after 12 hours.
I go to the doc tomorrow. I’ve been having more panic attacks than usual and want to get some stuff evaluated. Also, Eric was recommending I get my GP to give me a referral to a psychopharm specialist – to rule out any weird hormonal, chemical or endocrine stuff. I had a horrendous panic attack on the way back from the Games opening ceremonies last week. We were all stuck in a packed red line train, hot as hell, underground – very embarrasing. I might try changing anti-depressants. I definitely don’t want to be on any sedatives or meds like Xanax all the time. I won’t get anything done. Eric reminded me that there is simply no reason why I need to still be having these problems with as far advanced as we are these days with medicine and such. Plus, I was diagnosed probably 7 years ago and haven’t had any follow-up tests run since then. I’ve been looking at hypothyroid conditions and might ask to have that tested as well. Everybody told me they grew out of their panic in their early 30s. I’m waitin’. I also think my own chemical stress response is inherited.
I really am disgusted that the news channels are picking up and running with the Gingrich ‘World War III’ talking points. Killing civilians is killing civilians is killing civilians. There is no such thing as a surgical strike. Do you know what a surgical strike is? It’s sneaking into someone’s house and murdering them in their sleep. No collateral damage (unless you count broken families and children growing up to declare the next jihad). The seeds of terrorism in 18 years were sown this week in Lebanon. And Condi Rice sits there and throws up her hands like there is no other option. That any ceasefire is not of value unless it is a conditional one with all these different negotiation points. People are dying, you murderess. I don’t think I will ever fully understand the United States and Israel relationship. I know there’s the supposed Jewish Lobby in politics (which often sounds to me like more Elders of Zion craziness) or that the sooner Israel restores the temple Jesus will come back so the Fundie-Christs keep throttling it.
Dear God, please come back and take your followers away from us. What’s that saying: “Dear God, protect me from those who believe in you?”