So last July 4, I was in a funk and decided to make some changes, dubbing it the Self-Improvement Project of 2008-2009. Since it's been a year, it's time to see how I've done.
Goal #1:
Exercise for 45 minutes per day, three days or more per week.
I'll call this one a success. Some time during the year, I upped my goal to 4 days per week, which I haven't been hitting regularly lately, but I'm definitely hitting the 3 days per week almost every week.
Goal #2:
Drink two days per week or less.
Hmm. Yeah. Well. Uh, moving on.
Goal #3:
Watch TV for two hours or less per day.
I'll call this one a success, too. Some days I go over, but I've lived up to the spirit, if not the letter, of the goal on this one.
Goal #4:
Finish one book every two weeks.
Again, spirit if not letter. I've been reading much more, and that's a good thing. I almost never actually finish in two weeks, though.
Goal #5:
Stop being snarky about other people.
Well, mixed results on this one. Some people are hard not to be snarky about, but I think I've generally become more of a positive person this year, and I like that. I'll keep trying.
Goals for the coming year:
I don't think I'll codify it quite so explicitly this time. I thought putting it right there on the sidebar would motivate me, but it didn't really. I still failed at the drinking and the weight loss even with it right out there for the world to see, and I eventually took them down anyway. This time I think I'll just keep trying and not beat myself up too badly. I lost 15 pounds, and then gained 10. Most, if not all, of that 15 was lost while I followed the Weight Watchers program. I keep telling myself as long as I'm exercising, I can eat and drink whatever I want, but that's clearly not the case. So I'm going back to Weight Watchers, and I'm going to stick with it longer this time, even though it's tedious. I'm going to stick with it longer and have faith that it will eventually become less tedious and more automatic. Thumper loves pools, and I hate taking my shirt off in public. I really only want one of those two things to change before next summer, so I best get crackin'...
Showing posts with label SIP '08-'09. Show all posts
Showing posts with label SIP '08-'09. Show all posts
Monday, July 6, 2009
Monday, March 2, 2009
Not Progressing
Since I stopped counting Weight Watchers flex points, many months ago now, my weight loss has stalled. My enthusiasm for working out has cooled. And my caloric intake from alcoholic beverages has not gone down. So, here are some new goals:
No drinking Monday through Thursday.
Workout based on performance goals rather than time goals. If my goal is to work out for 45 minutes 4 days a week, it's too easy to jog for a bit and then walk the rest of the time. So goals based on average speed, I guess? I'll have to figure this one out. This may require some mathematics.
Wow. That was a lot shorter of a post than I thought it would be. Hmm. Oh, one of the guys at the SAHD playdate had a gender observation. I thought SAHD'ing would be fraught with sociological ponderings, but it just ain't. So I best take advantage of them when I can:
So we're hanging out at the playground, standing around talking while trying to keep our and others' kids from taking a swing shot to the head, when one of the dads says, "See, if that was a guy..."
He gestures, and we all look up. There's an SUV parked at the edge of the parking lot that overlooks the playground. Its engine is running. The driver is alone in the truck and appears to be watching the kids play. The driver is a woman.
"If we were moms and that was a guy, the police would already be here."
Aha! An opening for a thoughtful discussion on the implications of the perceived level of threat of a man versus that of a woman engaged in identical behaviors? Perhaps an exploration of the relative levels of cooperative action among groups of women versus groups of men? An opportunity to compare anecdotes of gender bias we've each experienced in our own lives?
No, not really. We just kind of glance at her for a second, and then we keep talking about Vegas. We're guys. That's what we do.
No drinking Monday through Thursday.
Workout based on performance goals rather than time goals. If my goal is to work out for 45 minutes 4 days a week, it's too easy to jog for a bit and then walk the rest of the time. So goals based on average speed, I guess? I'll have to figure this one out. This may require some mathematics.
Wow. That was a lot shorter of a post than I thought it would be. Hmm. Oh, one of the guys at the SAHD playdate had a gender observation. I thought SAHD'ing would be fraught with sociological ponderings, but it just ain't. So I best take advantage of them when I can:
So we're hanging out at the playground, standing around talking while trying to keep our and others' kids from taking a swing shot to the head, when one of the dads says, "See, if that was a guy..."
He gestures, and we all look up. There's an SUV parked at the edge of the parking lot that overlooks the playground. Its engine is running. The driver is alone in the truck and appears to be watching the kids play. The driver is a woman.
"If we were moms and that was a guy, the police would already be here."
Aha! An opening for a thoughtful discussion on the implications of the perceived level of threat of a man versus that of a woman engaged in identical behaviors? Perhaps an exploration of the relative levels of cooperative action among groups of women versus groups of men? An opportunity to compare anecdotes of gender bias we've each experienced in our own lives?
No, not really. We just kind of glance at her for a second, and then we keep talking about Vegas. We're guys. That's what we do.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Self-Improvement Project '08-'09: Six-Month Checkup
So it's been a little over six months since I decided to use my blog to make some changes to my life. It's seems like a good time to revisit those goals and see how I'm doing. I lost 13 pounds, but I've plateaued and haven't lost anything at all the past several weeks. In fact, I think it's safe to say that all or almost all of my weight loss occurred while I was following the precepts of the Weight Watchers Flex Plan. I don't think I'll go back to it, though, because it's clearly not a lifestyle change that I can maintain. I hated the counting and calculating all the time. I need to find other ways to apply principals of portion control to my diet. I've been focusing on caloric output since I dropped the Weight Watchers; now it's time for me to focus on caloric input, too.
Goal #1: Exercise for 45 minutes per day, three days or more per week.
This one's gone pretty well, I think. I've even upped it to four days or more per week, and I think I can truthfully say I meet this goal on a regular basis. Not every week, but most. I think this is a lifestyle change than I can actually maintain.
Goal #2: Drink two days per week or less.
Uh, well, that one I pretty much abandoned early on. I think I'm ready to revisit the alcohol issue. It's a large portion of my caloric input problem. I'm not sure what my new goal will be yet, though. The 2 days per week thing didn't work very well. Maybe I need to be more specific.
Goal #3: Watch TV for two hours or less per day.
Doing well on this one, I think. We've got an hours-long backlog of recorded Lost and 24 to catch up on, so we must be doing well. I have to admit, I've got an embarrassing Biggest Loser habit, though.
Goal #4: Finish one book every two weeks.
I think I've only achieved this goal once, excepting the Twilight series, which is just too fluffy to really count. But I'm happy with what I've done. I've definitely been reading much more, and that's the spirit of the goal, even if I haven't exactly lived up to the letter of the goal.
Goal #5: Stop being snarky about other people.
Again, I think this one's mostly a success. Aerie and I still sit and snark about some folks now and then, but some of the people I was snarky about are no longer in my life, which is a relief. I thought this might help me transform into a more positive person, but I think the changes in my political thought and my future volunteering and the like will do more for me in that regard. I may never be the kind and loving hippie I should be, but I can approach it if I try.
Goal #1: Exercise for 45 minutes per day, three days or more per week.
This one's gone pretty well, I think. I've even upped it to four days or more per week, and I think I can truthfully say I meet this goal on a regular basis. Not every week, but most. I think this is a lifestyle change than I can actually maintain.
Goal #2: Drink two days per week or less.
Uh, well, that one I pretty much abandoned early on. I think I'm ready to revisit the alcohol issue. It's a large portion of my caloric input problem. I'm not sure what my new goal will be yet, though. The 2 days per week thing didn't work very well. Maybe I need to be more specific.
Goal #3: Watch TV for two hours or less per day.
Doing well on this one, I think. We've got an hours-long backlog of recorded Lost and 24 to catch up on, so we must be doing well. I have to admit, I've got an embarrassing Biggest Loser habit, though.
Goal #4: Finish one book every two weeks.
I think I've only achieved this goal once, excepting the Twilight series, which is just too fluffy to really count. But I'm happy with what I've done. I've definitely been reading much more, and that's the spirit of the goal, even if I haven't exactly lived up to the letter of the goal.
Goal #5: Stop being snarky about other people.
Again, I think this one's mostly a success. Aerie and I still sit and snark about some folks now and then, but some of the people I was snarky about are no longer in my life, which is a relief. I thought this might help me transform into a more positive person, but I think the changes in my political thought and my future volunteering and the like will do more for me in that regard. I may never be the kind and loving hippie I should be, but I can approach it if I try.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
And It All Falls Into Place
I never play my PS2 any more. With reading and working and exercising, video games just don't climb very high on the priority list.
It's cold outside, so I haven't wanted to expose the boy, even in his cold weather gear, for an hour-long run.
My copywriting workload has evaporated, so nap times are open for other uses.
A few years ago, I set up a small TV and DVD player in front of the treadmill.
In the late '90's, I spent many, many hours with Lara Croft in PC versions of Tomb Raider I and II.
Circuit City is closing near us and selling everything at deep discounts. I saw a PS2 version of Tomb Raider: Anniversary. I thought, "Well, I'll never play it, but it's so cheap, and I'm a sentimental geek, so..."
And then, in a flash of inspiration this morning, it occurred to me that I could hook up the PS2 to the treadmill TV. Genius! I'm not really coordinated enough to jog and play simultaneously, but apparently I can manage a good brisk walk without falling on my face. So I just put in a 72-minute steep-incline walk while exploring Croft Manor. And POW! the treadmill is new again! Usually I'm bored long before 60 minutes are up. Maybe this will be the week I manage to break that 249-lb. ceiling...
It's cold outside, so I haven't wanted to expose the boy, even in his cold weather gear, for an hour-long run.
My copywriting workload has evaporated, so nap times are open for other uses.
A few years ago, I set up a small TV and DVD player in front of the treadmill.
In the late '90's, I spent many, many hours with Lara Croft in PC versions of Tomb Raider I and II.
Circuit City is closing near us and selling everything at deep discounts. I saw a PS2 version of Tomb Raider: Anniversary. I thought, "Well, I'll never play it, but it's so cheap, and I'm a sentimental geek, so..."
And then, in a flash of inspiration this morning, it occurred to me that I could hook up the PS2 to the treadmill TV. Genius! I'm not really coordinated enough to jog and play simultaneously, but apparently I can manage a good brisk walk without falling on my face. So I just put in a 72-minute steep-incline walk while exploring Croft Manor. And POW! the treadmill is new again! Usually I'm bored long before 60 minutes are up. Maybe this will be the week I manage to break that 249-lb. ceiling...
Monday, November 17, 2008
In the Playroom
We're coupled, inflated, oiled, adjusted, and tightened. Man, inflating 2 tires to 95 psi with a clip-on hand pump is a workout in itself. Well, honestly, I only made it 65 before crapping out and saying, "Close enough."
Unfortunately, my gel bike seat melted in the shed, and now I'm thinking maybe we need helmets. We need helmets, right? So maybe a trip to the bike store after lunch, and then an afternoon test drive.
Also, just because I want to, here's our morning in the playroom today:
Unfortunately, my gel bike seat melted in the shed, and now I'm thinking maybe we need helmets. We need helmets, right? So maybe a trip to the bike store after lunch, and then an afternoon test drive.
Also, just because I want to, here's our morning in the playroom today:
Friday, November 7, 2008
Maybe I Need a Chief of Staff to Keep Me Focused
Thank you, Lisa L, for the congratulations on my weight loss so far. As I may have mentioned, I'm a bit of an attention whore, and that kind of positive feedback might really help me right now. I'm at a point that I have reached in previous weight loss attempts, the point where I'm losing motivation and on the verge of chucking it all in.
I'm sick to death of my workout routine, and I dread getting out there and doing it. And it's been much harder lately, because I've had some on-going respiratory difficulties ever since my pneumonia incident in September. My knees ache, my back hurts, and I just don't want to jog. Good thing Thumper asks me most mornings: "Dog?" To the untrained ear, that may sound like he wants a puppy just like Sasha and Malia, but really, he's asking to get out into the world and see a few cordles (squirrels), dogs, carsh, tucks, bushes, and mosiles (motorcycles).
I'm sick to death of counting points, too. I think I'm done with that. I'm glad I did it, though, because it was kind of a shocker how over the top my portion sizes were before. I have a better sense of mealtime propriety, now. Without counting, and keeping track of every day's point totals, it's a lot easier to tell myself that it's a special occasion or an anomaly when I eat too much. But I'm certainly not going to count points the rest of my life, and overcoming that little voice in my head that says, "Go ahead, it's just this once," is part of winning the battle that will let me keep a reasonable weight. It's a lesson I'll have to learn eventually.
So, solutions? I'm thinking of getting a bike trailer to strap the boy into so that I can mix up my jogging with some bike riding. The best thing about jogging is that, with the jogging stroller, I can include Thumper in my workout, so that when he's napping, I can use that time for other pursuits. And I like to think that I'm providing him with a good model for physical activity by including him in my exercise routine. Aerie has expressed misgivings about strapping the boy into a bike seat because I have been known to wipe out on my bike now and again. Like the time that I broke my wrist. She feels like a bike trailer might be a little safer, and she may have a point.
As for diet, I don't know. Just keep slogging through, I guess. With the exception of some Tootsie Rolls and Tootsie Pops around Halloween, I really have done a pretty good job at eliminating chocolate candy from my diet. I love M&M's, so this is no small feat. Weight Watchers did show me what a waste it is, when you have only so many calories per day, to commit such a high percentage of them to a nutritionally void treat that will not leave you feeling fuller or more satisfied. And I've demonstrated in the past my inability to engage in moderation when it comes to M&M's, Special Dark, Twix, Kit Kat, Reese's, Watchamacallit, Butterfingers, Milky Way, etc. etc. etc., so succeeding in stopping myself when I pass them in the grocery store is a dietary success. I just need to keep working on saying no when I want to eat that bag of popcorn at 9:30 at night, or to eat a small bowl of pretzels instead of half a bag. I also need to find more creative recipes instead of eating big bowls of pasta because I'm sick of raw sticks of celery and peppers and zucchini and cucumber.
So, onward ho! If I don't go completely off the tracks, and remember the success that I've had and how I did it, maybe I can weather the slump and come out the other side with a renewed sense of motivation. And stop thinking things like, "Only 50 more pounds to go!"
I'm sick to death of my workout routine, and I dread getting out there and doing it. And it's been much harder lately, because I've had some on-going respiratory difficulties ever since my pneumonia incident in September. My knees ache, my back hurts, and I just don't want to jog. Good thing Thumper asks me most mornings: "Dog?" To the untrained ear, that may sound like he wants a puppy just like Sasha and Malia, but really, he's asking to get out into the world and see a few cordles (squirrels), dogs, carsh, tucks, bushes, and mosiles (motorcycles).
I'm sick to death of counting points, too. I think I'm done with that. I'm glad I did it, though, because it was kind of a shocker how over the top my portion sizes were before. I have a better sense of mealtime propriety, now. Without counting, and keeping track of every day's point totals, it's a lot easier to tell myself that it's a special occasion or an anomaly when I eat too much. But I'm certainly not going to count points the rest of my life, and overcoming that little voice in my head that says, "Go ahead, it's just this once," is part of winning the battle that will let me keep a reasonable weight. It's a lesson I'll have to learn eventually.
So, solutions? I'm thinking of getting a bike trailer to strap the boy into so that I can mix up my jogging with some bike riding. The best thing about jogging is that, with the jogging stroller, I can include Thumper in my workout, so that when he's napping, I can use that time for other pursuits. And I like to think that I'm providing him with a good model for physical activity by including him in my exercise routine. Aerie has expressed misgivings about strapping the boy into a bike seat because I have been known to wipe out on my bike now and again. Like the time that I broke my wrist. She feels like a bike trailer might be a little safer, and she may have a point.
As for diet, I don't know. Just keep slogging through, I guess. With the exception of some Tootsie Rolls and Tootsie Pops around Halloween, I really have done a pretty good job at eliminating chocolate candy from my diet. I love M&M's, so this is no small feat. Weight Watchers did show me what a waste it is, when you have only so many calories per day, to commit such a high percentage of them to a nutritionally void treat that will not leave you feeling fuller or more satisfied. And I've demonstrated in the past my inability to engage in moderation when it comes to M&M's, Special Dark, Twix, Kit Kat, Reese's, Watchamacallit, Butterfingers, Milky Way, etc. etc. etc., so succeeding in stopping myself when I pass them in the grocery store is a dietary success. I just need to keep working on saying no when I want to eat that bag of popcorn at 9:30 at night, or to eat a small bowl of pretzels instead of half a bag. I also need to find more creative recipes instead of eating big bowls of pasta because I'm sick of raw sticks of celery and peppers and zucchini and cucumber.
So, onward ho! If I don't go completely off the tracks, and remember the success that I've had and how I did it, maybe I can weather the slump and come out the other side with a renewed sense of motivation. And stop thinking things like, "Only 50 more pounds to go!"
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
A Few Thoughts on SIP '08-'09. And a Book Review.
After completing 4 weeks of my Self-Improvement Project, I met my workout goals in 3 of the 4 weeks, and exceeded them in 2 of those weeks. I didn't meet my drinking goals any of the 4 weeks, but I did drink less. I reduced my TV watching and increased my reading, but I didn't finish the book in two weeks as I intended. I was still snarky now and again, but I did feel really guilty about it. So, all in all, not a great success, but showing signs of improvement.
Meeting my exercise goals and not losing weight leads me to believe that, in addition to working harder on the drinking goal, I need to put diet into the equation after all. I like to eat. I mean, I really like to eat. I've been resistant for years to counting diets, whether counting calories or measuring food or counting points. With the success that Aerie's had with Weight Watchers, though, I'm considering it. I think portion size is a big problem for me, and maybe a few months of paying very close attention to portion size and calorie content will help train me to behave better. Anyway, no promises, because it's probably more money than I want to spend, but I'm thinking about it. I never did unsubscribe from those "Your Baby This Week" emails from the hospital, and this week's contained this sentence: "The parents' weight was the biggest predictor of a child becoming overweight." I don't want that for Thumper, so I want to work harder, for him and for me.
Oh yeah. And the book. I read Ken Kesey's Sometimes a Great Notion many years ago, and re-read it as the first book on my SIP '08-'09 reading list. It was, predictably, a very different experience this time around. In my post-adolescence, when I (most likely) read this book the first time, I was much more sensitive to the fraternal relationship issues. I grew up feeling weaker, more cowardly, and far less cool than Big Brother. I blamed a lot on him. And while Big Brother never slept with my mother in the room next to mine knowing I was watching through a hole in the wall as Hank did Leland's (they are actually half brothers), I demonized him as a bully who emasculated me and treated me cruelly when what he actually did was behave very much as a normal big brother.
So I entered the book remembering Leland as the avenging hero. I remembered him as the main character. I remembered what his act of vengeance was, but I didn't remember the ultimate outcome. I remembered, too, the sad fate of the most likeable character in the book and dreaded its approach, but found that it didn't, probably because of all my anticipation, carry nearly the emotional punch that I remembered and expected. I didn't remember, either, the way that Kesey spins the narrative point of view like a top, shifting again and again, and sometimes in mid-sentence, from the first-person perspective of one character then another, then back to the third-person omniscient narrator. He does much the same with chronology. I stumbled through the first fifty pages or so before I became accustomed to it again and my eyes were able to focus on the richness of the world he was creating.
But this time around, Leland wasn't the main character, and Hank was much more human and much more admirable than I remembered him. What struck me now was not the drama of Hank's fierce independence and determination to win win win, the whole town and the whole world be damned. It was Hank's weariness at always having to stand up to the town's challenges and his knowledge that the town needed him to keep on standing up. And it was Leland's liberation when he finally stands up, too.
In the last thirty pages or so, when Hank and Leland are finally face to face days after Leland exacts his revenge, they fight. Leland, despite the loud voices in his head telling him to RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!, finally stands and fights. And that's the only thing that can stop Hank from beating him to death, and not because Hank can't outfight him.
Reading it, I thought of all the times my brother pinned me down and spit on me, or made me smell his armpits. I thought of getting pantsed in front of girls, and a dozen other humiliations. And I thought about how afraid of a fight I was. I was terrified of getting punched, of getting beaten. I remember David Duran in junior high, and how my smart mouth had pissed him off such that I spent an entire school year avoiding him rather than letting him follow through on his insistence that we were going to fight. I remember my pure gratitude that he moved the next summer. And I remembered all the self-loathing that went with that fear and that gratitude.
I remember, too, my brother recently talking about the one time that I said or did something, probably said with my smart mouth, and pissed him off so bad that he was determined to beat the tar out of me. And somehow, I got the upper hand enough that I stood over him, pushing him down again and again as he tried to get up. He spoke about it with what sounded like pride. Pride that I'd finally stood up to him? At the time, I was terrified and only hoped to keep him off his feet until Mom could intervene and save me from that beating. I don't recall it as standing up to him.
That's what I thought of as I finished the book. I wasn't weak and cowardly because my evil big brother made me so with his insurmountable superiority. I never tried because I was afraid. He would have been proud of me if I had. And so would I. The fear is inside me, to be overcome; it's not poured onto me by other people out there in the world. Which also made me think of this, which is really, really long, and came via this. Honestly, I didn't even read the whole thing, but several of the "Actual reasons that people do not like you" touched a nerve.
So, anyway. In conclusion. Sorry, Big Brother, for holding it against you all these years. I wished I'd kicked you in the nuts a few times more, at least. And also, I enjoy books that have likeable characters, even if they get the shit end of the stick. And I like it when books mean something on a personal level. The End.
Meeting my exercise goals and not losing weight leads me to believe that, in addition to working harder on the drinking goal, I need to put diet into the equation after all. I like to eat. I mean, I really like to eat. I've been resistant for years to counting diets, whether counting calories or measuring food or counting points. With the success that Aerie's had with Weight Watchers, though, I'm considering it. I think portion size is a big problem for me, and maybe a few months of paying very close attention to portion size and calorie content will help train me to behave better. Anyway, no promises, because it's probably more money than I want to spend, but I'm thinking about it. I never did unsubscribe from those "Your Baby This Week" emails from the hospital, and this week's contained this sentence: "The parents' weight was the biggest predictor of a child becoming overweight." I don't want that for Thumper, so I want to work harder, for him and for me.
Oh yeah. And the book. I read Ken Kesey's Sometimes a Great Notion many years ago, and re-read it as the first book on my SIP '08-'09 reading list. It was, predictably, a very different experience this time around. In my post-adolescence, when I (most likely) read this book the first time, I was much more sensitive to the fraternal relationship issues. I grew up feeling weaker, more cowardly, and far less cool than Big Brother. I blamed a lot on him. And while Big Brother never slept with my mother in the room next to mine knowing I was watching through a hole in the wall as Hank did Leland's (they are actually half brothers), I demonized him as a bully who emasculated me and treated me cruelly when what he actually did was behave very much as a normal big brother.
So I entered the book remembering Leland as the avenging hero. I remembered him as the main character. I remembered what his act of vengeance was, but I didn't remember the ultimate outcome. I remembered, too, the sad fate of the most likeable character in the book and dreaded its approach, but found that it didn't, probably because of all my anticipation, carry nearly the emotional punch that I remembered and expected. I didn't remember, either, the way that Kesey spins the narrative point of view like a top, shifting again and again, and sometimes in mid-sentence, from the first-person perspective of one character then another, then back to the third-person omniscient narrator. He does much the same with chronology. I stumbled through the first fifty pages or so before I became accustomed to it again and my eyes were able to focus on the richness of the world he was creating.
But this time around, Leland wasn't the main character, and Hank was much more human and much more admirable than I remembered him. What struck me now was not the drama of Hank's fierce independence and determination to win win win, the whole town and the whole world be damned. It was Hank's weariness at always having to stand up to the town's challenges and his knowledge that the town needed him to keep on standing up. And it was Leland's liberation when he finally stands up, too.
In the last thirty pages or so, when Hank and Leland are finally face to face days after Leland exacts his revenge, they fight. Leland, despite the loud voices in his head telling him to RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!, finally stands and fights. And that's the only thing that can stop Hank from beating him to death, and not because Hank can't outfight him.
Reading it, I thought of all the times my brother pinned me down and spit on me, or made me smell his armpits. I thought of getting pantsed in front of girls, and a dozen other humiliations. And I thought about how afraid of a fight I was. I was terrified of getting punched, of getting beaten. I remember David Duran in junior high, and how my smart mouth had pissed him off such that I spent an entire school year avoiding him rather than letting him follow through on his insistence that we were going to fight. I remember my pure gratitude that he moved the next summer. And I remembered all the self-loathing that went with that fear and that gratitude.
I remember, too, my brother recently talking about the one time that I said or did something, probably said with my smart mouth, and pissed him off so bad that he was determined to beat the tar out of me. And somehow, I got the upper hand enough that I stood over him, pushing him down again and again as he tried to get up. He spoke about it with what sounded like pride. Pride that I'd finally stood up to him? At the time, I was terrified and only hoped to keep him off his feet until Mom could intervene and save me from that beating. I don't recall it as standing up to him.
That's what I thought of as I finished the book. I wasn't weak and cowardly because my evil big brother made me so with his insurmountable superiority. I never tried because I was afraid. He would have been proud of me if I had. And so would I. The fear is inside me, to be overcome; it's not poured onto me by other people out there in the world. Which also made me think of this, which is really, really long, and came via this. Honestly, I didn't even read the whole thing, but several of the "Actual reasons that people do not like you" touched a nerve.
So, anyway. In conclusion. Sorry, Big Brother, for holding it against you all these years. I wished I'd kicked you in the nuts a few times more, at least. And also, I enjoy books that have likeable characters, even if they get the shit end of the stick. And I like it when books mean something on a personal level. The End.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Ah, Belikin
I'm doing pretty well on my goals this week, except for the drinking. I've met my workout goals, which makes me think I should up the goal to 4 per week. I probably should wait and see how it goes over the next few weeks though, so I don't set myself up for failure. I've watched less TV. I've read more. I'm still working on the negativity and the complaining about other people, though, especially in traffic. If Thumper is paying attention in the back seat, he's going to learn some real doozies of curse words to bust out on the Grandmas some day.
But really, drinking seems to be the toughest one for me. I don't [like to] think of myself as an alcoholic, because I function just fine. I don't miss work. I don't go into rages or beat my wife [because she'd kick my ass]. I get up every morning at 6:30 to take care of the boy. I mean, it has its negative effects on my life, but it's not ruining me. And I sure do like it.
I've been watching Alpha Dog on the treadmill the past couple of mornings, and there's a fifteen-year-old who goes to a party as a kind of guest of honor. Everybody knows him, everybody's his friend. He drinks, he smokes, he loses his virginity to two girls simultaneously after a rousing game of skinnydippin' Marco Polo. I watched it and thought, "That kid's doomed. He's going to spend the rest of his life chasing that moment, going from party to party trying to get it back, and it'll never be the same. But he'll keep on trying."
My first drink was a teaspoon of schnapps that Biggest Brother brought back from a year-long trip to Germany. He was eighteen; I was six. I remember that it was the most horrifying taste I'd ever had in my mouth. I thought that if this is what drinking is, I'm never going to do it. Why would anybody want to pour that toxic acid down his throat?
When I was fourteen, though, I took a two-week trip to Belize with my father and two other Boy Scouts. That trip was an [at the time] under-appreciated experience that really did open up my eyes about a lot of things. I learned that much of the world cares passionately about soccer, and we're the only ones who call it that. I learned that people live in crushing poverty and work back-breaking jobs. I learned that chicken necks in the stew can be a luxury brought out with pride and generosity for guests. I learned that treasures of the past aren't always preserved in museums; they sometimes rot away in the jungle far from the eyes of people. And the ones that are preserved in museums and private collections are sometimes there because they were stolen away illegally, for money. I learned that capitals can have dirt roads and open sewage canals. I learned what a junkie was.
But I also learned that not all nations have a drinking age. My father and I stayed with separate host families, so when the father of the host family asked me at dinner my first night if I'd like a beer, there was no one but me to say no. And I didn't. Belikin Beer was everywhere, and I drank as much of it as I could. And it was a wild time. I recall going to a party with my host brother, a party in a field on the edge of town. The people were so friendly and accepting of me. The music was pounding and joyful and alive. I remember lots of reggae and "Feeling Hot Hot Hot" sung by somebody other than Buster Poindexter. I remember saying no, thanks to the ganja and being afraid that people would laugh at me, but they didn't. I recall being told that I got my companions and I kicked out of a nightclub, though I don't remember that at all. I remember running through streets laughing while someone far behind us yelled and yelled about how he was going to shoot the white boys up with heroin, shoot them up right in their heads.
There were so many things about that trip that we did sober that were the best times of my life: swimming in a blue hole in the jungle, with no one else around; picking burlap sacks full of oranges, then eating them in the back of our broken-down truck, waiting for help and reading Oscar Wilde aloud to each other; hiking to Mayan ruins and watching the Belizean Boy Scouts hack up a huge python with their ubiquitous machetes; playing pool and drinking Coke from glass bottles; watching A Cry in the Dark in Spanish at the movie theater, along with a variety of kung fu movies. But to be honest, it was the drinking that really capped it for me. I felt more outside of myself, more a part of the world. And of course I [thought I] was doing it without my dad knowing, which had its own appeal.
So that was the beginning. I came home that summer and immediately fell in with the younger siblings of Big Brother's cool friends and the party circuit. By fifteen, harder drugs were in the mix, though it took me to seventeen to overcome my mother's warning that, because of the pneumonia I had when I was two, I'd die if I ever smoked. By the time I got to college, drinking was a well-ingrained habit. I used it to decompress during the days that I worked full-time and went to school full-time. I used it for the same purpose through some particularly rough marital troubles in the late '90's. And I can use just about any excuse at all to worry about it next week, or next month. So by the time I got to the point in my life where I don't think I need or want it as much, I'm pretty well-conditioned to do it anyway; there's an excuse.
Thumper woke up with a cold today, and he's way off his usual eating and sleeping schedule; there's an excuse. And if you drink on Wednesday and Thursday, you might as well drink on Friday; there's an excuse. And if you drink on Friday, Saturday's a goner, too. So I guess I'll applaud myself for my successes, not beat myself up too bad for my failings, and just keep trying. Now who wants a drink?
But really, drinking seems to be the toughest one for me. I don't [like to] think of myself as an alcoholic, because I function just fine. I don't miss work. I don't go into rages or beat my wife [because she'd kick my ass]. I get up every morning at 6:30 to take care of the boy. I mean, it has its negative effects on my life, but it's not ruining me. And I sure do like it.
I've been watching Alpha Dog on the treadmill the past couple of mornings, and there's a fifteen-year-old who goes to a party as a kind of guest of honor. Everybody knows him, everybody's his friend. He drinks, he smokes, he loses his virginity to two girls simultaneously after a rousing game of skinnydippin' Marco Polo. I watched it and thought, "That kid's doomed. He's going to spend the rest of his life chasing that moment, going from party to party trying to get it back, and it'll never be the same. But he'll keep on trying."
My first drink was a teaspoon of schnapps that Biggest Brother brought back from a year-long trip to Germany. He was eighteen; I was six. I remember that it was the most horrifying taste I'd ever had in my mouth. I thought that if this is what drinking is, I'm never going to do it. Why would anybody want to pour that toxic acid down his throat?
When I was fourteen, though, I took a two-week trip to Belize with my father and two other Boy Scouts. That trip was an [at the time] under-appreciated experience that really did open up my eyes about a lot of things. I learned that much of the world cares passionately about soccer, and we're the only ones who call it that. I learned that people live in crushing poverty and work back-breaking jobs. I learned that chicken necks in the stew can be a luxury brought out with pride and generosity for guests. I learned that treasures of the past aren't always preserved in museums; they sometimes rot away in the jungle far from the eyes of people. And the ones that are preserved in museums and private collections are sometimes there because they were stolen away illegally, for money. I learned that capitals can have dirt roads and open sewage canals. I learned what a junkie was.
But I also learned that not all nations have a drinking age. My father and I stayed with separate host families, so when the father of the host family asked me at dinner my first night if I'd like a beer, there was no one but me to say no. And I didn't. Belikin Beer was everywhere, and I drank as much of it as I could. And it was a wild time. I recall going to a party with my host brother, a party in a field on the edge of town. The people were so friendly and accepting of me. The music was pounding and joyful and alive. I remember lots of reggae and "Feeling Hot Hot Hot" sung by somebody other than Buster Poindexter. I remember saying no, thanks to the ganja and being afraid that people would laugh at me, but they didn't. I recall being told that I got my companions and I kicked out of a nightclub, though I don't remember that at all. I remember running through streets laughing while someone far behind us yelled and yelled about how he was going to shoot the white boys up with heroin, shoot them up right in their heads.
There were so many things about that trip that we did sober that were the best times of my life: swimming in a blue hole in the jungle, with no one else around; picking burlap sacks full of oranges, then eating them in the back of our broken-down truck, waiting for help and reading Oscar Wilde aloud to each other; hiking to Mayan ruins and watching the Belizean Boy Scouts hack up a huge python with their ubiquitous machetes; playing pool and drinking Coke from glass bottles; watching A Cry in the Dark in Spanish at the movie theater, along with a variety of kung fu movies. But to be honest, it was the drinking that really capped it for me. I felt more outside of myself, more a part of the world. And of course I [thought I] was doing it without my dad knowing, which had its own appeal.
So that was the beginning. I came home that summer and immediately fell in with the younger siblings of Big Brother's cool friends and the party circuit. By fifteen, harder drugs were in the mix, though it took me to seventeen to overcome my mother's warning that, because of the pneumonia I had when I was two, I'd die if I ever smoked. By the time I got to college, drinking was a well-ingrained habit. I used it to decompress during the days that I worked full-time and went to school full-time. I used it for the same purpose through some particularly rough marital troubles in the late '90's. And I can use just about any excuse at all to worry about it next week, or next month. So by the time I got to the point in my life where I don't think I need or want it as much, I'm pretty well-conditioned to do it anyway; there's an excuse.
Thumper woke up with a cold today, and he's way off his usual eating and sleeping schedule; there's an excuse. And if you drink on Wednesday and Thursday, you might as well drink on Friday; there's an excuse. And if you drink on Friday, Saturday's a goner, too. So I guess I'll applaud myself for my successes, not beat myself up too bad for my failings, and just keep trying. Now who wants a drink?
Friday, July 4, 2008
Self-Improvement Project 2008-2009
As I was huffing and puffing along on the treadmill this morning (the first time I've been on it in a couple of weeks now), I had an inspiration: instead of pulling the plug on the blog because it's not making me happy right now, I should use it as a self-motivation tool. There are so many ways that I think about improving myself, but I never follow through on any of them. I need to create a concrete plan, a schedule. I could be healthier. I could be a better husband. I could be a better father. I could be a better friend. Of course, I actually stopped exercising in order to write this post, so I'm not off to a good start there. But here are my thoughts. Let me know what you think.
I'm going to post some weekly goals for myself, then I'm going to post weekly about whether or not I met those goals.
Goal #1:
Exercise for 45 minutes per day, three days or more per week.
I've talked about my weight here before, and that's a major goal that I never seem to meet. The best weight loss I've ever achieved was when I participated in weight loss contests at work. I perform best when I'm competing against someone else, but I think it wasn't just the competition, it was also knowing that my results would be public knowledge. So if I make my results public knowledge here, maybe I'll fare better. I'll post my weight and weight loss too, just to add that little dash of motivation by humiliation.
Goal #2:
Drink two days per week or less.
I drink too much. I don't talk about it much. It's a dirty little secret. I use it as stress relief, unwind time. But it clearly contributes to my weight and health issues, and I think it contributes to my negativity. I'm not a kid anymore. I should cut that shit out.
Goal #3:
Watch TV for two hours or less per day.
I watch too much TV. I see Thumper staring at it, and I worry about his future in the electronic media age. It's mind-numbing. It wastes time that could be put to better use. I'm not a kid anymore. I should cut that shit out.
Goal #4:
Finish one book every two weeks.
This one will go hand-in-hand with #3. And we're talking actual paper books here. Audiobooks are great, especially for driving, but there's no substitute for a real paper book. I know some speed readers, but I ain't one of them. I think this is an achievable goal. Maybe I'll step it up to one per week eventually.
Goal #5:
Stop being snarky about other people.
Even when they're not around to hear it. I don't want to be so negative anymore. This one will be hard for me, but it's important.
I think 5 is good to start with. I could add at least one more about diet, but I think I'll start with this and build on it as I succeed. Two other minor goals will be:
Respond to comments more often. It's good for relationships, as long as you keep Goal #5 in mind.
Instead of dumping Twitter, use it to borrow One Good Thing's concept of writing about one good thing per day. Every day I'll Twitter one thing I'm happy with myself about and one I'm not.
I've never been good at following schedules, etc., but since becoming a SAHD, I've kept a calendar of all of my babysittin' and usherin' days. That calendar has become very important to me. I think I'll try to schedule out my goals and incorporate them into the calendar, since I've already become accustomed to consulting it. Maybe I'll even become one of those Seven Habits dayplanner types...
Nah, let's not get carried away.
I'm going to post some weekly goals for myself, then I'm going to post weekly about whether or not I met those goals.
Goal #1:
Exercise for 45 minutes per day, three days or more per week.
I've talked about my weight here before, and that's a major goal that I never seem to meet. The best weight loss I've ever achieved was when I participated in weight loss contests at work. I perform best when I'm competing against someone else, but I think it wasn't just the competition, it was also knowing that my results would be public knowledge. So if I make my results public knowledge here, maybe I'll fare better. I'll post my weight and weight loss too, just to add that little dash of motivation by humiliation.
Goal #2:
Drink two days per week or less.
I drink too much. I don't talk about it much. It's a dirty little secret. I use it as stress relief, unwind time. But it clearly contributes to my weight and health issues, and I think it contributes to my negativity. I'm not a kid anymore. I should cut that shit out.
Goal #3:
Watch TV for two hours or less per day.
I watch too much TV. I see Thumper staring at it, and I worry about his future in the electronic media age. It's mind-numbing. It wastes time that could be put to better use. I'm not a kid anymore. I should cut that shit out.
Goal #4:
Finish one book every two weeks.
This one will go hand-in-hand with #3. And we're talking actual paper books here. Audiobooks are great, especially for driving, but there's no substitute for a real paper book. I know some speed readers, but I ain't one of them. I think this is an achievable goal. Maybe I'll step it up to one per week eventually.
Goal #5:
Stop being snarky about other people.
Even when they're not around to hear it. I don't want to be so negative anymore. This one will be hard for me, but it's important.
I think 5 is good to start with. I could add at least one more about diet, but I think I'll start with this and build on it as I succeed. Two other minor goals will be:
Respond to comments more often. It's good for relationships, as long as you keep Goal #5 in mind.
Instead of dumping Twitter, use it to borrow One Good Thing's concept of writing about one good thing per day. Every day I'll Twitter one thing I'm happy with myself about and one I'm not.
I've never been good at following schedules, etc., but since becoming a SAHD, I've kept a calendar of all of my babysittin' and usherin' days. That calendar has become very important to me. I think I'll try to schedule out my goals and incorporate them into the calendar, since I've already become accustomed to consulting it. Maybe I'll even become one of those Seven Habits dayplanner types...
Nah, let's not get carried away.
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