Laziness and Lamborghinis

Sometimes I wonder if being so... trying to find a better way to say it than "not serious"... relaxed? carefree? irresponsible? that was harsh... I think not serious is the best way to say it. Sometimes I wonder whether being so not serious is a good thing or a bad thing. Oftentimes I look at my more serious friends and I think to myself, "Man, I'm glad I'm not like that." Now these are my friends, so I'm glad they're like that. It works for them. I just don't think I could do it--which is probably why I don't. In fact, sometimes I think my friends are glad I'm not like that too.

I'm not completely un-serious. I get pretty serious about some things, just not everything, and arguably not enough things. Maybe. Now I'm being really indecisive. That's not really like me. Maybe it's because it's late. Maybe it's because my style of writing is such that I just type whatever thoughts I'm having without really having much direction or revision. Maybe that's what my life is like. Wow. That was profound and meaningful. Worrying about the future and dwelling on the past just slows you down. Maybe carefree was a good way to describe it. No. Not true. I care about a lot of things. I want to have a family eventually. I'd like to not be a lonely old bachelor forever, destined to sit on a rocking chair on my front porch chewing sunflower seeds while cradling a shotgun in my lap and yelling at children who are happier than me. Man. That was kind of depressing. I don't even like chewing sunflower seeds.

I think having money would be fun too. Then again, who doesn't? Not that I'd be willing to sell my soul for it. It'd just be nice. Working in the car biz really beat that out of me--that super strong desire and ambition of being super rich. I'm not sure I want that anymore after seeing what it does to so many people who get it--to one degree or another. Maybe that's just because they were all rich car guys and car guys are... well... some are good. Some.

If I stopped thinking would I stop typing? My fingers are on autopilot now, just typing whatever I'm thinking. Scary. Weird. Tired. Yeah, that last one was about me. Maybe some of the others apply too. Oh well.

They say that when you're tired enough it's like being drunk. Maybe I should have put that at the beginning of the post. Maybe all of this would have made more sense. I said maybe a lot tonight. Does that mean everything I've written should be ignored or cast aside as pure and unfounded speculation? Eh, maybe.

Gummy Bears and Mathgibra

The day started by waking up both traditionally and ridiculously early. Okay, so 6:30 in the morning probably isn't that ridiculous, but it sure feels like it. I'm sure we're not the only family that has this tradition, but my older sister and I started waking up early on Christmas mornings many many moons ago.

Back when it first started we would get up as quietly as we could and sneak downstairs, trying very hard not to wake up Mom and Dad in order to unpack our stockings and have a preview of the year's take. After taking a little while to ooh and aah at all the goodies we would carefully repack our stockings and creep back up to bed, where, without fail we would each lie sleeplessly for the next hour or two until we thought it was an appropriate time to wake our parents. Usually that was about 6:30, but we had to start giving them a break eventually and we moved it up to 7:00. Back then we would wake up really early, sometimes as early as 4:30 or 5:00. Eventually, after realizing the futility of trying to sleep again, we just didn't go back to bed afterwards. Instead we just stayed up until it was time to bang on our parents' door. That got really boring, so we started waking up later and later. Now, we're all old enough that sleeping in would really be nice, but for the sake of tradition we woke up early this morning.

Recently, we started another Christmas morning tradition. Suudsu. It's basically gummy bears in skim milk. Don't question it. It just is. Admittedly, however, it has evolved some over time. Three years ago it was gummy bears in skim milk. Last year it was gummy bears in chocolate milk, and this year it was gummy bears in hot chocolate. We determined that this year we have reached Suudsu Zen. It's great. The gummy bears melt a bit and flavor the hot chocolate, and when you eat the gummy bears themselves they're all soft and chewy. Mmmmm.... and of course, you have to use Haribo gummy bears. Officially, if you asked me anywhere other than on this blog, I would undoubtedly deny even the very existence of any other type or brand of gummy bears.

In mathematical terms it's a very simple equation, really. Haribo = gummy bears = joy.

Or in simplified terms: Haribo = joy.

If I were more of a math geek I would probably construct some kind of equation involving the Greek letter sigma. That way I could feel superior to everyone that a) doesn't know what it means or b) has already forgotten what it means due to the fact that only .2% of everyone that's forced to learn advanced calculus is ever placed in a situation where they have to use it without the aid of a computer on a regular basis. It's ok. I'm not bitter about math. I love calculus. Really. I just think they should find a better name for it other than "calculus". May I suggest a few alternatives. I think "Sir Isaac Newton's Practical Joke" would be good. Or maybe "Manna for Masochists". Ooh, how about "Incomprehensible Gibberish Whose Conclusions Are Probably Just Made Up"?

So if anyone happens to be reading this blog that has enough influence in the mathematical world (probably imaginary) to enact such a change I would urge you to consider it -- or at least submit it to a panel of your peers so they can write lots of stuff on a blackboard that no one but mathematicians can understand and fill it with lots of Greek letters.

MΣ = TiRΣ)

MΣ(r^2)y Q, where Q = Christmas

Accusations and Elipticals

When I go to the gym I like to watch the news. It's just about the only time I ever do. Men are notorious for being bad at multi-tasking, but this is something I'm actually very proud of. I exercise, listen to music, and watch the news -- all at the same time. Beat that, Soccer Mom.

Occasionally, I even let my mind wander (I know, I'm good). I think about a lot of random things. Have you ever stopped yourself mid-thought and thought to yourself, "Man, this is random. What started all this?"? OK, maybe it's just me. Well, after many careful observations I've come to some startling conclusions.

Due to the accusatory nature of my hypotheses it is only politically correct of me to attempt to keep the identity of the organization anonymous. As such, I will refer to said organization in this post only as "The Gym", though it is possible that through descriptions provided you may deduce the identity on your own.

When I get on the treadmill I always get on the one right in front of the TV playing Fox News. I know, I know. Paint me red. I've already told you that I plan to join the military, so if you haven't picked up on my political preference yet then maybe you should be reading something else. Something with pictures. In fact, try this. In my version of the story the Alligators would have eaten the wiener dogs and the last page would show the girl crying in a messy room.

As I was saying, when I get on the treadmills I watch Fox News. When I use the elliptical machines I have to watch CNN. No ellipticals in front of Fox... That got me thinking. Are the TVs positioned based on intensive market research? Are Conservatives less willing to use an elliptical machine because it's relatively new and based upon "questionable" research? Do Liberals reject the established and traditionally accepted staple of exercise because it's not hip and different enough? Or could there be something more sinister at work here...

My next observation was even more shocking. There are probably around one hundred aerobics machines at The Gym. The machines are organized in multiple rows and two columns, divided by a central walkway. As such, the TVs are similarly organized. The interesting thing is how the rows are organized. The order goes like this: a row of TVs, then a row of treadmills, followed by a row of elliptical machines. Rinse and repeat. This pattern holds true on all rows but the one that shows Fox News. No ellipticals there.

So what does all this mean? Are Conservative Treadmillers intentionally getting the prime TV viewing real estate, and, therefore, preferential treatment? Are Liberal Ellipticallers being treated as second class citizens? The implications are mind blowing.

The first thought, of course, is that there is an extremist right wing conspiracy at work in our nations The Gyms. Too easy. No, it's much more convoluted than that. In fact, it's quite the opposite. Think about it -- what better way to gain sympathy and support for your cause then to paint the opposition as being more extremist than you are? That's right. Now you're beginning to understand. So what if a few of your own have to suffer in order to gain the majority support of The Middle? I know, it's sick, but the evidence is overwhelming.

Though I confess that I side more often than not with the Conservatives, I would like to believe that I'm a very moderate political thinker. I know that everyone says that, but I have proof. I use both the treadmill and the elliptical.

So what are we to do in light of recent revelations and overwhelming evidence that an extremist political movement utilizing questionable methods is operating unseen among us? Should we demand that further investigation be conducted to see just how deep the conspiracy goes? Should we boycott all the The Gyms across the country? Should we demand equal treatment of both treadmill and elliptical users?

As for me, I'd just be happy if they put an elliptical near the Fox News TV. Behind the treadmill.

EZ Cheeze and Pocket Change

I talked to someone from the Utah National Guard today. That was pretty cool. Got all my questions answered. Questions like "When I go into Military Intelligence I can be like James Bond, right?" and "So you guys are, like, going to pay for everything for the rest of my life, right?"... Well, that was an eye opening experience. I found out that James Bond is actually British. No dice there. He didn't say anything to the second question so I think that's a yes. So overall it seems like a pretty good gig. I'm just a little hurt that I can't join MI6.

On a completely unrelated and somewhat random note: Ocean's 11 has got to be one of the greatest movies ever made. I wish I had Jazz music playing in the background of my life. Then everything I did would seem that much cooler. Imagine if I had cool Ocean's 11 background music and the movie guy with the super deep voice narrating... whoa.

Bling and Sleigh Bells

I finally got around to doing some Christmas shopping today. It seems like much less of a big deal now. I think it's because the day after Halloween commercial America starts screaming at you to do your Christmas shopping. I make a habit of completely ignoring them, so I realize only days before the big holiday that I have yet to choose how to monetarily display my love for everyone.

I'm sure that I'm not the first to feel this way, but I think we're ruining Christmas by starting our celebrations too early. Hearing somebody wish me a Merry Christmas now has about the same emotional effect on me as getting rejected by a girl you never liked in the first place ("Oh, yeah, I guess I should care.").

Have you ever taken a sip of something intensely flavorful and just held it in your mouth for minutes on end? After a couple minutes you can't even taste it. Christmas was such a magical thing growing up. It was a tangible feeling in the air as The Day grew closer and closer. It was the smell of Douglas Fir and fresh cranberry cheesecake bars. It was Christmas music that wasn't about getting presents or having naughty thoughts about Santa. It seemed so much purer.

Now it seems like it's all about Black Friday as a measure of the health of the economy and squeezing every dollar out of "Ho-ho-ho".

I'm not a scrooge. I'm a Christmas idealist. Everyone just sucks at meeting my standards. I love Christmas and I have some very fond memories of past Christmases which I cherish. I just wish it were a little more like Channukahuhahkauhk or however you spell it - something shared between families and believers but otherwise almost entirely ignored by commercial America and the almighty dollar. Instead of human interest pieces showing the spirit of charity and giving and brotherly love of the season we see news bits of people running down an old lady in a wheelchair to buy the newest toy craze or talking about how they expected better product quality from a factory that pays it's employees $0.26 per day.

I know this is a rant and I'll probably apologise for it later, but that's how I feel.

$$$ H$O$! H$O$! H$O! M$E$R$R$Y C$H$R$I$S$T$M$A$S$! $$$

Childhood and Audiobiographies

My room is a mess. It kinda bothers me, but obviously not enough to make me actually get up and clean it.

When I was a teenager living at home my room was pretty much always a mess. When I was at school and had roommates my room was pretty reasonable. I wouldn't call it a mess, but it wasn't super tidy either. When I moved into my own apartment it was spotless. You would think that I've established a trend here. Bad to better to best. Some might say it's because I've been "growing up" - whatever that means. Now that I'm living at home again my room is a mess. So much for that theory.

So what is it then? This question has been weighing heavily on my mind now for about the last thirty seconds. Is it because now that I'm home I've abandoned all sense of responsibility in order to feel more like a child again? Do I just want someone else to take care of everything for me? Was my apartment only clean because I knew people would see it when they came over and I'm safe in the knowledge that no one will visit me here? Am I really that superficial? Do I really care that much about whether people think I'm neat or not? Or is it something more sinister?

That last question just kind of popped up out of nowhere. I think every long string of probing questions deserves a dramatic close. That one kind of sounded like something you'd hear in a movie trailer from a guy with a ridiculously low voice that manages to make even the most idiotic things sound cool. Not that they'd ever make a movie about my messy room, but I'm sure that if anyone could sell it it would be that guy. If I ever write an autobiography I need to make sure to note at the beginning that the book is meant to be read out loud in a super low male voice that over accentuates every single word. Heck, maybe I'll just skip the printed version and publish it as an audio-autobiography. Of course, the question remains: Would anyone buy it? Will I ever be that famous? Is there a legal way to prevent a written transcription from being made? Is it really that transparent that I had no idea what I was going to write about tonight? The world may never know...

Zombies and Movie Stars

So I saw "I Am Legend" with Will Smith tonight. I think I'm going to give it 4 out of 5 awesomes. I liked it. It wasn't as much of a zombie slaughter fest as you might have expected, but it was overall good acting by the Fresh Prince and his dog Sam was pretty freakin' cool. As far as the zombies themselves go, I'm going to put these ones just under the "28 Weeks Later" zombies with regards to scariness. They're definitely not your Knock-Down-And-Kill-With-A-Shovel zombies like in "Shawn of the Dead", and they're still much more frightening than the You'll-Be-Okay-As-Long-As-You're-Packing-Heat zombies of the "Resident Evil" series, but still not as bad as the You-Better-Hope-You-Have-One-Bullet-Left-For-Yourself zombies of "28 Weeks Later". If I had to be a zombie I'd want to be one of those. Walking around aimlessly and incessantly moaning "brains...." just doesn't seem that appealing to me.

So I'm on a diet. No, I don't eat brains. It's some kind of version of the Atkin's diet, but I've never actually read anything about the Atkin's diet, so I'll call it the Super Awesome diet. I just don't eat carbs. At first it sucked.... okay, it still sucks - but I've lost almost 25 lbs. since the beginning of the month and I'm actually starting to not miss all the carby and sugary stuff. Wierd, huh?

I've also been working out at least three hours every day, so it's not just the diet that's helping me to shed the pounds. In fact it's hard to tell which is having a more significant effect, but I'd bet on the exercise. I still have some ways to go but when I'm done I fully expect to look like James Bond (the new one) or maybe Brad Pitt. You know I've been told I kinda look like Matt Damon. Maybe I'll look like him. That wouldn't be so bad, as long as it's not the Matt Damon from Ocean's 11. He's kind of a timid dweeb.

"So what's the point?" you ask.

Well all of this is leading up to me most likely joining the National Guard as a Russian Linguist/Interrogator. But hey, if that doesn't work out at least I'll make a good looking zombie.

...brains...

Lemonade and Rock 'n Roll

The funny thing about a blog is that everyone is going to read it. Well, maybe not everyone... in fact, maybe not anyone - but it differs from a journal in the very fundamental way that there's always the possibility that someone could read it. Most likely that person will be someone you know, maybe even someone that you have written or will write about. With a journal you are free to write whatever you want under the delusion that no one will ever read it, or that if they do it will be many years from now and whoever will read it won't really know you too well and anything you've written about is long forgotten. So at best a personal journal is interesting history, and, at worst, it is simply poor writing to be enjoyed by no one.

Thus, by offering a more contemporary and (hopefully) relevant record of one's life, the blogger is able to subject loyal friends and relatives (and the occasional net stalker) to potentially mediocre literature and is protected by international copyright laws in doing so.

Welcome to Lemonade and Rock 'n Roll.