Now I'm back at the hotel room and the weight of the past day is already pulling at every molecule in my body. I could swear the bed has a gravitational field.

Toured the city with a go-go boy who was nice enough to take the evening and show me around. JR's. The Mining Company. Moby Dick's. After Dark. The Round-Up. Now, I'm back in my room, exhausted but looking forward to a few more hours of work at the test site. Speaking of which, it's time to get ready and hit the road again. I'll drive with the windows down.

Mothman... was, however, a bit chilling in the same way that Blair Witch Project creeped me out. It still had the classic sound effect techniques (sudden, loud noises after a long silence) but was more enigmatic about the title subject. The movie uses the fact that you just don't know what's going on to scare you. It also let's you piece together the clues from the plot to figure out what's going to happen in the end and finally have some idea of what's going on, which is nice for some closure.

I caught Orange County tonight with Lindsay. I have to say it was just what I was in the mood for, although I could have done without the chatty, 12-year-old audience (it felt as though I were watching the movie in a daycare center, prompting me to create my new catchphrase as seen in the title of this entry). I probably came away from the movie with more than most people, because I can completely identify with the main character, Shaun, an aspiring high-school novelist whose application to Stanford is rejected. Oddly enough, I found myself really caring for this guy in the end, and even idly wonder what would have happened to him long after the movie was over.

I suppose I've just really been wanting to escape recently. Not just physically, but mentally. I feel as though I've been floating away lately and would love some time off to get back into my skin. Seeing Orange County sorta helped me do that in a way. I'm leaving on a business trip on Monday, too, which should be a good change of pace.

Fasting is a lot easier than it seems. Well, the first few hours of it, anyway. I mean, you're stomach is sated from the last meal and you're feeling good that you're going to give your digestive system a little rest. Nine o'clock flies by, and I'm feeling healthy. My blood sugar is relatively normal.

By eleven, I feel a little bit of pain in my stomach. I nod, resolutely. This is to be expected. I haven't eaten breakfast and my spoiled stomach is pleading me to feed it. Then my left arm starts to feel a little sore and maybe, I think, it's going numb. Oh my God! I'm having a heart attack because I didn't eat this morning! I clutch my chest like they do on the movies. No... no. It's okay. Calm down, you're fasting and the sun is shining and it's going to be a good day.

I purse my lips and think about something else. Maybe the date later on tonight, where I'll be enjoying a nice meal at a steak house. Oh, that menacing growl was my stomach. Okay, new subject. Trip to Dallas next week. That will be a nice break, and fortunately the company is paying for all my meals. Oh no... okay, another subject that is not connected to food. I need a new monitor for my computer. I wonder... are monitor's edible?

It's one o'clock and I'm starting to get snappy. My green tea has gone cold and I think I'm losing sight in my right eye. Clouds have even covered the sun in an ominous omen. I abandon my work and fly out of the door, kicking a small child on my way to my car. I run down to the local grocer and buy ten pounds of food, returning to my desk with a sparkle in my eye.

As I sit, replete in my calorie binge, I think to myself, no day is a good day to fast, regardless how sunny. Suddenly, the clouds are parting and I think to myself, it is going to be a good day.

But, oh my God, I feel like a heifer now. Maybe I should skip dinner.

There's a lot of stuff to mention in the blogging community, lately. For instance, Nikolai's annual Bloggies are fast underway (vote for your favorite blogs using the link above). New people are jumping on the blogging bandwagon every day, including my friend Dianna and a few of Chris' friends. Jonno is posting about Marmite once again.

The number of websurfers and webloggers are ever-increasing. Could it be that in the wake of terrorism, war, recession, and Marmite, people are retreating to their homes and looking to the web to satisfy their need for connection?

I scheduled an appointment with a chiropractor on Thursday at the recommendation of a few friends. I'm almost willing to pay any price to have this problem fixed and identify what I can do to prevent it in the future, and a chiropractor is the only solution I haven't tried yet so I figure I'll give it a shot. If that doesn't help, I may end up dealing in black-market narcotics.

On a brighter note, I've been in a wishy-washy state concerning my feelings toward my dad lately, but today I can honestly say I made somewhat of a turnaround during a conversation we had over dinner. He was in a good mood after working out ("...exercise gives you endorphins, endorphins make you happy. Happy people just don't go around killing people." —Elle, Legally Blonde) and we were having a fun conversation involving my propensity towards marines (and men in uniform, in general), gay marriage, and meeting guys. It had been a while since we talked about those things, but it reminded me how grateful I am to have such an understanding, supportive, and enthusiastic father.

Speaking of men in uniform, I got to take my work on the road today and spend some time with other, uniformed employees at my company. And for those of you who know where I work, you understand how happy I am right now.

The constant in my life -- by default, not by plan -- became a loose group of friends. After a few years, that group's membership and routines began to solidify. We met weekly for dinner at a neighborhood restaurant. We traveled together, moved one another's furniture, painted one another's apartments, cheered one another on at sporting events and open-mike nights. One day I discovered that the transition period I thought I was living wasn't a transition period at all. Something real and important had grown there. I belonged to an urban tribe.

When I first read this article, I was shocked at how accurately it describes my life and the lives of so many of my friends. Although I'm gay and thus legally condemned to a lifetime classification as a "never-married" ? thanks, in part, to the brains of the U.S. Census Bureau ? it's relieving to hear Ethan Watters make a formidable argument to the extent that urban groupings are a "fresh expression of [family values]," rather than a degredation of them.

I?m typing this entry with my gloves on. The keyboard feels a mile away, seperated from my fingers by thick wool, and I?m amazed that coherant words are actually arranging themselves on my screen. It?s 32 degrees Fahrenheit outside. That?s freezing, in case you live in any other part of the word besides the US. I always listen to National Public Radio news in the morning on my daily commute, and somehow, it warms me from the inside out. Their voices are so calm and articulate.

The warmth of this giant building enveloped me as I entered, like the arms of a mother gathering her children around her. I leapt up the stairs by two, and said goodmorning to the beautiful receptionist who flashed a smile and asked me how I was doing today. Great.

I had a rare urge for coffee this morning, and walked into the break room just as a new pot was being made. I poured a cup of the thick, undiluted brew and smiled. It is going to be a great day.

The first thing to understand about the universe is that no condition is ?good? or ?bad.? It just is. So stop making value judgments.
?Neale Donald Walsch, "Conversations with God"

It was threatening to snow when I woke up this morning and I fishtailed all over the road driving to work. Is it healthy to keep wondering if you?re going to die during your commute every day? Fortunately, I arrived with relative ease after making my way onto the interstate. I parked in the back of the lot as usual ? a consequence of always arriving an hour later than everyone else ? and trudged against the wind that sweeps down the Rocky Mountains to the west like a skeleton racer winding down the ice track at 80 miles per hour.

This stress that has built up over the past week pulls on my shoulders, even more than my lead-weight gym bag, slung over my chest. Two chapters behind in my project management class, two papers due today, a project due on Friday. Design document due at the end of the month, business trip to Dallas. Groceries to be bought, car to be cleaned. Drew on the line ? I can?t start this, I don?t know what made me think I could manage another long distance relationship ? and friends getting pushed to the sidelines.

A deep breath. I relax my shoulders. I force a smile. It feels like a step in the right direction, but it doesn?t change a thing.

In a drive-home analysis from work last night, I picture my life swinging from two extreme phases. There is a build-up phase where I accumulate all sorts of activities, garbage, and preoccupations. The house becomes cluttered, my reading falls to the side, I am outwardly focused. Then a holding period where I plateau and start to reflect. This is followed by a clean-up phase, where I correct and pickup the pieces of my life that I?ve let fall away. Then a holding period where I?m able to maintain this organization. I?m fully aware of myself, isolated, inwardly focused.

I think I will have achieved growth and success if I can somehow manage to merge these four phases into a continual period of balance.

We started another eight-week session of yoga today. I bought John and myself yoga mats, since Marlene said the class was full, and I’m glad we did. I was starting to wonder how often she cleaned the community mats. The classes are a nice break in the day and I’m even seeing some improvement as far as my flexibility is concerned. The goal here is to learn enough of a routine to practice at home, by myself. So far, I’m pretty sure I could pull it off but I want a little more exposure.

It seems like everyone is caving in on me lately. Suddenly, I’m getting invitations to parties, sporting events, outings, and dinners from people I haven’t spoken to in months. Leif wants to go snowboarding, claiming he missed hanging out with me, despite the fact we didn’t hang out much in school except to play Dope Wars in the back of compiler and operating systems. Lindsay wants to go snowboarding again this weekend, which will be fun. Drew wants to get together. Tom, a coworker, came up to me and — completely out of the blue — asked if I’d be interested in a LAN gaming party or playing D&D sometime. I’ve been doing fine on my own for the past few months, and actually enjoying the solitude. It must be the new moon.

That routine lasted for a few years, until my fifteenth birthday when I happened to be caught reading a Men?s Physique magazine in the air force base BX by my father, who beamed at the idea that his son wanted to learn more about fitness. I blushed and hurriedly stashed the magazine behind a copy of Mademoiselle, hoping to hide my guilty perusals of nude male form and prevent him from finding me out.

That night, while opening birthday presents, I was greeted with a glistening, bikinied Phil Baroni who happened to grace the cover of that month?s Men?s Physique, and I was in love. My dad had gone back to the BX and purchased the magazine. He had no idea how happy this made me but was visibly proud that his son was interested in health and fitness.

Somehow, I managed to glean a bit of exercise erudition over the course of wearing down the pages month after month, and started to alter my exercise routines to incorporate more weight training and muscle building. I didn?t have any weights at the time. Instead, I scavenged what objects in the house that could serve as weight-lifting-type devices and altered the routines to accommodate these new tools.

I did upright rows with my stereo, triceps extensions with dictionaries, seated rows with bungee cords. I even grabbed a pair of my dad?s hammer pants and jogged around the block every morning, which forced me to get up before sunrise so that no one would actually see me in them. I can?t say for sure whether all of this effort paid off, but it certainly motivated me to join a gym when I had the chance.

Now, I find myself lifting and running daily out of habit more than anything else. There is no doubt in my mind that the effects of exercise are nothing short of a panacea for all of life?s problems. Depression? Kiss it goodbye. Family problems? You?re a happier person now, much easier to get along with. Sucky immune system? Watch your health improve dramatically. Increase your energy. Feel better about yourself.

I don?t mean to sound like a late-nite infomercial, but the effects of exercise are really that amazing. Plus, you can say "Pass the mascara, girlie man!" and actually have something to back it up.

We can rebuild him. We have the technology. We can make him better than he was. Better, stronger, faster.
--Dr. Rudy Wells, The Six-Million Dollar Man

The better part of the back- and front-ends of this site are now complete. If you click on the links in the main menu, you will notice a few of the pages have yet to be fleshed out. I will post updates under this category — "Site Maintenance", indicated by the hammer and wrench) — in the coming weeks as they are added, and feel free to contact me with any questions or suggestions as this site will be an ever-evolving process. Thanks for bearing with me while I found my way through this forest of new technology.

Our heads remained fixed on the motionless figure as we passed. Dave made jokes about learning when to stop drinking, but I felt strangely self-conscious and mentioned that I hoped he wasn‘t dead. My hopes went unrequited as several ambulances arrived half-an-hour later to remove the body of a man that had somehow slipped through the cracks of society. As they took him away amidst a gaggle of onlookers, I carefully wrapped this parcel of information in my mind to be delivered as soon as I got my snacks from the counter and joined the others, already having staked seats in the theater.

The movie was as good as the previous two times I had seen it (once in November with Jessie and Chris, a second in December with Cale). As we left the theater, I remembered the dead man on the sidewalk and remembered I had wanted to tell my friends, but I couldn‘t do it. I couldn‘t ruin the overwhelming feeling of optimism and love and perma-grin that the movie had imparted on us. Instead, I took the news and threw it far into the dark night sky.

I went snowboarding today for the first time this season. Lindsay and I had purchased season passes, but I have been so overwhelmed with school and work I haven‘t been able to pull myself away to go. We spent the day casually carving figure eights in the icy white slopes, and I had forgotten just how much I love it. Afterwards, we ate sushi and edemame. I haven‘t spent any quality time with her in months, and it was good to pretend, if even for a day, that we were still roommates.

Despite this preoccupation of mine, Drew really is an interesting guy. We?ve been talking for a few months now, but we have yet to officially meet since our schedules are completely at odds with one another. Supposedly, we met at a 2000 New Year?s party hosted by a mutual friend, but neither of us remember meeting.

He?s having surgery this weekend and I?m snowboarding. Hopefully, we?ll get a chance to meet up and see if this will work out as well in real life as it is on the phone.

Things have been pretty wild during the past week with my trip to Los Angeles and the holidays. I think I‘ve spent about 36 hours in airports alone this holiday season and although I love travelling, I‘m glad to be home.

Older Entries