life in all in its lowercase glory

this post will be done entirely in lowercase, grey, sans serif type. it makes me feel good. i will also try to use short sentences. it makes other people feel good.

at this moment on a late tuesday night, err an early wednesday morning i feel happy. i feel happy because my entire life is not laid out before me. i do not have responsibility laid upon my shoulders. i have myself to worry about. i have my dog to care for. i walk her. i feed her. she makes me happy. i hope my affection makes her happy. i have a beer when i feel like it. i go out for lunch when i feel like it. i don't go out on the town when i am not 'feelin' it. i network because i enjoy it. not because someone said i have to.

i ignore stupidity, embrace brilliance, tolerate mediocrity and endure the ignorance that makes the world so utterly blissful for some.

there were things years ago that would set me off. emotionally that is. things would just really get me worked up. they still do. i just seem to be able to hold the lid on that boiling pot just a little firmer now. i guess im learning to take this whole thing in stride. can't make anyone do what they don't want to do.

i forgot where i was going with this post. i do that sometimes. i start to write. to do that thing where you speak and write to feel good. jeez. my vocab has gone to shit. anyway. i just felt like writing.

right. life. lowercase glory. i guess this beats trying to read some 13 year old's blog that has random lower and upper case letters interjected by numbers to represent letters and 'emoticons' that are illegible and unreadable.

life is like a series of sentences in lower case letters. it is right now. for me anyway.

life's events are like sentences. each ending with some punctuation. sometimes just a period will do. they often do. sometimes the night ends with a big bang! sometimes you're left to wonder what's next? or sometimes we're just left wondering...

but i've devoted this post entirely to this. lately, it seems like the next sentence starts and there is no uppercase letter to announce its arrival. i guess you just have to learn to read life, and figure out when the next important sentence is starting and when that last, sometimes extraneous, run-on sentence should end. i guess its like trying to correct a 2nd grader's essay on hemmingway. that poor bastard. what a glorious and tragic life. we should all be so lucky.

is the next sentence going to rivet me to my seat? blow me out of my chair? it may just leave me wondering why that wonderful story went awry...

catharsis. that was the word i was looking for. release of emotion. whew.

what is that next sentence? and how does this one end? i guess we're all just in one big waiting game.

life is good right now. i do as i please. where this story goes, i don't know. but i know the next chapter includes a few days off of work. a trip to the beach. mountain biking. trail running. hiking. good food. good friends. and i'm hopeful there will be a few more exclamation points in there and less of those nagging question marks...

goodnight. the next post will have better grammar and punctuation. i'm sure this is driving some of you nuts!

are you looking at all the punctuation now?

i guess that was the point of this post. it's not where you start, because we all start in the same place. it's how the sentence ends that matters...

Glass Eater

Ever feel like a handful of glass has been shoved into your mouth?

The last thing you want to do is swallow it down.  It hurts. 

A lot of people are sitting around with mouthfuls of glass, afraid to say what needs to be said. They sit there with their dead smiles, bloated cheeks and little droplets of blood begin to ooze out as they open their lips to speak, but before it escapes, that lying tongue slithers out between pursed lips to wipe it away. All I hear is an empty hiss leaving that weightless grin. 

Just when I thought I had nothing left to gain here, I feel like I'm starting to learn which side of the ass/lip relationship I'm on. 

That's not lipstick on your cheek. 

Desire...

Today I felt like crying. It was a strange feeling.  

I saw some work. Some mighty fine work. Advertising work. Real stuff. Stuff that gave me flashbacks of why I wanted to work in this industry in the first place. 

I didn't even want to cry for myself. Well, not really, not directly anyway. But for those whose art suffers because they aren't where they want to be. For those whose passions are being unfulfilled. For those who know they can do better, but are being crushed into earning a check and not doing what they love. I felt that pain well up inside me like I haven't felt in a long time. It compelled me to my desk to write this down.

I've not been one to pity those who aren't happy doing what they're doing, but in this instance, I could immediately associate. Maybe "M" was right. Maybe I am such a generation Y'er that I feel like all aspects of my life should be so perfect and fulfilling that I walk around with a dipshit smile on my face all day. 

Do I believe that my life should be great. Of fuckin' course. Who doesn't? But I have never sat idly by feeling that if I believed my life should be great, it would be. I've busted my hump. Made sacrifices to be where I am. The part that pains me is all the work I've put in has put me in a place that seems to be taking more than it is giving back. 

I used to be a fire in the belly kind of guy, passionate about what I did. My work was good. It was damn good. It was clean, orderly. I got shit done.  Nowadays, I feel like I'm phoning the this goddamn job in. Yea, I admit it. The work has suffered. I'm so inundated with work that in order to get anything done, it just has to get done now. 

I just want to get it done. Get it checked off the list. 

I've feel like I'm turning into the guy that I wanted to floor with a good right hook. 

What is left to do but tough it out. There's part of me, the part that understands that my mother worked 5 years of her life, 7 days a week to keep me fed, clothed, schooled and happy, that wants to keep head down, my nose to the fuckin grindstone and work. Collect that check. 

The other part of me, the part that understands that my mother did those things so that I wouldn't have to keep my head down or put my nose to a fuckin' headstone to keep my job, that part wants me stand up. Make noise. Stick it to the man, prove that this isn't just a job, this is my passion.  And the things we're doing isn't cutting it. A check giveth, and it taketh away. (side note, I need to do my taxes tonight) 

This is all of course just a rant. I know that the difference needs to be made right here where I'm sitting. Either get the business you wanna be working on, or get the fuck out. But nothing is ever so simple, so cut and dry. The politics of this whole game will fuckin raise me up to the sacrificial alter of the upper management gods as an example of one who couldn't pipe down and just be a good little lamb of the office gods, long before it dips my delicate little head in the baptismal waters of it's upper echelon. I don't want to play in your bullshit sandbox of double-talk and backtracking. 

You want change in this game like you want pro-bono work. If there's gonna be any change, it'll end up in your tin cup. The real difference is gonna require a new captain, or a new ship. 

And it will sail among a sea of our tears. 

Just getting back in touch

It's been a while since I've written here.  Just thought I'd drop in and say hello.  I can rant a little bit about inspiration.  I should be working but I guess I'll do this for a bit.  

It does require some kind of propellant doesn't it?  Creativity, action, work.  It requires a fuel. Inspiration. Whether it be internal or external, something has to power the pistons of powerful, productive actions and beautiful thought.  Nothing can come from a vacuum right?  

Lots of people would argue that beauty can exists in an environment lacking any type of inspiration. Neglect. Violence, both physical and emotional.  Although I would agree that this can be quite a rich soil from which beauty can spring forth, I certainly wouldn't say it is void of inspiration.  I would say its a form of negative inspiration.

So if that's the negative inspiration, what is positive inspiration?

I, and it is only my view, think it's much like TV inspirational BS. Beautiful things. Children, romantic love, familial support.  Don't get me wrong, I think that stuff is great.  It's all the stuff that books are written about.   The problem is, I don't think most of the writers or creators of those stories have ever come from that environment. 

People who come from that world (the positive inspiration) usually end up writing horror stories. The ones who come from the horror stories usually write about the happy things.  The ideal opposite of what I know, I imagine.   

It's like comedians having the most messed up lives.  

Horror writers growing up in suburban, middle class america with mom, dad, brother, sister and the golden retriever, all of them having block parties every summer with the Johnson's, the Avery's, the Cunningham's and discussing beautifully manicured lawns, their gardeners, BMW's and how they hate trying to find a new place to vacation every year because all the resorts are full of 'tourists' now. 

Well, then again, maybe it's a coping mechanism. Maybe that's what inspiration is.  People writing beautiful stories after coming from a hellish upbringing just to prove that they're OK. They want the world to know that they are not damaged goods. 

It's like that girl you knew, whose dad wasn't that great of a guy, but just so she could prove she wasn't messed up too, she found as many guys as she could, just to prove they weren't anything like her dad. Except, they were.  And to her, what was she doing wrong? Nothing, giving love, taking love.  Love is a beautiful thing, a thing to traded, shared and passed around to all right? Sadly, it's that damaged sense of beauty, love and affection that seems to breed like amoebas, needing only itself to multiply and spread.

But the original discussion here was inspiration.  I guess it's a touchy subject because, well, where did my inspiration come from?  I'm not an artist in the least.  I might be artful with the words I choose to use in an email, or conference call.  The words on a page to my clients are as artful and beautiful to me, as a painting of a setting sun to some.  But I certainly don't consider myself an artist. Inspiration for me was getting out of wherever I was at that moment, because 

I consider myself a do'er. What is it that I do? A little bit of everything I guess.  I certainly haven't done it all. I would have to say, I'm not the kind of person who ran away from home, traveled through Europe and experienced every human emotion by the time I was 22.  Quite the contrary. I feel like I've lived a pretty pedestrian life.  I did all the things I was supposed to do. School. Sports. Jobs. Friends. Girlfriend.School. Work. School. Internships. School. Extracurricular activities. School. Career.  

And here I am. 5 years into a Career.  Sitting at my desk, writing to the unknown universe called the web to share with you, what I think of Inspiration.  I think inspiration is anything that gets you off the couch and drives to you do something for the good of the world. 

It's all connected, if you do well, those around you tend to do well. 

Inspiration is merely the excuse to do something.  I certainly believe inspiration is a very real thing and it needs to visit the soul quite frequently in order to replenish that thing we often run out of when we need it most. Sometimes, inspiration doesn't always visit us and we need to find that inspiration either within ourselves or outside in the world.  

Redondo Beach 10k results

So I finished the run. It was a good one. good pace, I stayed on target for my 10:00 mile to the tee.  1:01:55 total time. That's a 9:59 mile pace.  

My legs hurt Monday. My legs hurt Tuesday. It was mostly soreness in the quads.  Actually, it was all soreness in the quads. 

Last night I put in a couple warm-up miles just to work out the pain and it seemed to work.  I was a little tight this morning but I seem to be doing alright now.  Probably gonna squeeze in a 3 miler tonight in prep for the weekend. 

The guys have all agreed to meet up Saturday morning at the trailhead for a nice little primer to the Mud Run.  It'll be fun to get all the guys together again for a little workout. Most of us all played football together years ago (almost a decade!) and it should be good to see where everyone is at physically. 

I'm hoping this will get everyones competitive juices flowing again and get them to start being more physically active. 

The running has definitely improved my overall health and mental well-being.  This weekend should be another boost to both.  

Cheers to a good run, good friends, and nasty weather! (It's supposed to rain)

Crazy Time

So now I've added another run to the list.  I've signed up for the Redondo Beach 10K. 

This will be my first 10K run and actually, I'm only doing to see if I can beat my friend's time (I'm pretty confident that I can) but it's a nice precursor to the Mud Run and some other adventures planned in the near future. The Redondo run is on the 1st of February (Super Bowl Sunday) so I'll have a great excuse to eat like a total pig that day.  

This past weekend I ran just over 6 miles in total (≈10K) in just over an hour.  That was a training run. Thanks to the folks out in Chino Hills who put together a very nice running club. It was cool to run with folks who know their paces, the courses and distances and technique. Also helps when there are water stations!  This was my first time doing something like that and I don't think it'll be my last. 

On a lighter note (not really) I've improved my endurance and stamina but I haven't been able to shave off any weight. I'm still hovering around the 200lb mark and am unable to crack that plateau.  I've changed my diet considerably, increased my exercise routine, but I think my issue is consistency and the intermittent infusion of alcohol and debauchery into the training program. 

Last but not least, I'm headed to wine country this weekend and have a few days off to really enjoy myself.  I just need to make sure I squeeze in another distance run up there and get in another 2-3 tempo runs in as well before February 1st. 

I'll be back with updates next week and let you know how the trip up North was. 

Mud, Bud.

It's official.  I've registered for the Camp Pendleton 10K, Muddy Buddy. 

It's a 10K run with obstacles, mudhills, walls, tires, hay bales, river crossings and all the other fun stuff you would imagine a marine base could concoct. It's going to be a rocking good time as I've registered for a team of 5 and I've basically volunteered the A-Team to run it. It's always nice to dedicate yourself to something and have a reason to train.  Being that the A-Team was built around athletic competition, this should come pretty naturally. I just hope we still have what it takes after years of desk sitting, playing grab-ass and general tomfoolery. 

Currently, the only other race I've run is the Santa Monica St. John's 5K. I did that in 29 minutes with ZERO training at 200lbs. 

To be competitive in this race, with the obstacles, I've gotta drop at least 15-20lbs and double my endurance level. Hefty goals, I know but what else are you going to do?

Half-ass it?