I went for a walk today.
Bree and I used to do this regularly, but have fallen out of it lately (read: the last 10 months or so).
So when we got home today, we went for a walk. A long one. About an hour and a half or so.
And it felt good.
Much better than sitting around all night.
5 little victories. 360 to go.
Saturday, January 5, 2013
Friday, January 4, 2013
Little Victories - Day 4
Today, I did something I've been putting off for some time. I have a number of work shirts that are either missing buttons or have oil stains on them. Due to my laziness, I've just been tossing those shirts back into circulation and grabbing a clean one - only to find those same shirts later and do exactly the same thing. Over. And over. And over again.
Today, I came across one of those shirts. Not only did I tag it to be returned to the uniform company for replacement, but I set up a spot I can drop the other shirts as I come across them. In a week or two, those uniforms will be replaced and my collection of work shirts to pull from will be expanded back to its original count.
Little victories. 361 to go.
Today, I came across one of those shirts. Not only did I tag it to be returned to the uniform company for replacement, but I set up a spot I can drop the other shirts as I come across them. In a week or two, those uniforms will be replaced and my collection of work shirts to pull from will be expanded back to its original count.
Little victories. 361 to go.
Thursday, January 3, 2013
Little Victories - Day 3
I'll admit it, I'm cheating today.
I haven't actually completed a little victory by the time I wrote this, but I am working on one.
Today, I set aside some time to prep my laundry for the next week. Basically, I took enough pairs of socks, pants, boxers, undershirts, and work shirts to last until my next day off and put them in the laundry. As I write this, I'm waiting for the dryer to finish. From there, I'm going to take all those clothes and consolidate them on hangars. Each hangars will have a pair of socks, a pair of pants, a pair of boxers, a shirt, and an undershirt. That way, when I wake up every morning for the next 5 days, all my work clothes are in a single spot. I won't have to check multiple spots for clothes, and won't run the risk of failing to realize when I run low on clothing.
Should save me a few minutes each morning. Who knows what I can cram into that time?
Little victories. 3 down. 362 to go.
I haven't actually completed a little victory by the time I wrote this, but I am working on one.
Today, I set aside some time to prep my laundry for the next week. Basically, I took enough pairs of socks, pants, boxers, undershirts, and work shirts to last until my next day off and put them in the laundry. As I write this, I'm waiting for the dryer to finish. From there, I'm going to take all those clothes and consolidate them on hangars. Each hangars will have a pair of socks, a pair of pants, a pair of boxers, a shirt, and an undershirt. That way, when I wake up every morning for the next 5 days, all my work clothes are in a single spot. I won't have to check multiple spots for clothes, and won't run the risk of failing to realize when I run low on clothing.
Should save me a few minutes each morning. Who knows what I can cram into that time?
Little victories. 3 down. 362 to go.
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
Small Victories - Day 2
I took out the trash this morning on the way to work.
This may not seem like a big deal, but understand my trash-removal philosophy. If it has the potential to stink, it goes out same night. If it doesn't, it can wait until I have at least 2 bags of trash ready.
Why? Because I have 2 hands. Might as well use them both effectively.
But this morning I looked at the bag, saw it full, and took it out. And I was able to come home to an empty kitchen trash can.
I'm pretty sure it also diminished my stress level by 0.1%. After all, that's a chore out of the way in the morning, when I still had energy for the day. So when I got home and the energy level was diminished, there was no looming trash chore waiting.
2 days, 2 little victories. 363 to go.
This may not seem like a big deal, but understand my trash-removal philosophy. If it has the potential to stink, it goes out same night. If it doesn't, it can wait until I have at least 2 bags of trash ready.
Why? Because I have 2 hands. Might as well use them both effectively.
But this morning I looked at the bag, saw it full, and took it out. And I was able to come home to an empty kitchen trash can.
I'm pretty sure it also diminished my stress level by 0.1%. After all, that's a chore out of the way in the morning, when I still had energy for the day. So when I got home and the energy level was diminished, there was no looming trash chore waiting.
2 days, 2 little victories. 363 to go.
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
2013 Resolutions
2013. A new year. A fresh start. Other generic phrases everyone says...
I got to thinking about resolutions and new years and change and what's important in life.
Now, I've never been a big "this is my new year, new me attitude" kind of guy. I'm as unphased by the calendar change as most. I'm also cynical as hell of resolutions. I figure they last, at most, until January 6th.
Probably because they're always grandiose, sweeping resolutions.
"I want a new job."
"I'm going to drop 100 pounds."
"I'm going to free Tibet."
This year, I've decided to join in. I've made my own resolution. But not something huge and life altering.
I'm resolving to score 365 victories in 2013. One for each day of the year.
Small victories. Because, after all, isn't that what sweeping, life-altering changes are made of? Consistent, tiny effort?
So that's my goal. One small victory a day.
Starting today...
DAY 1
Today, I shaved.
I hate shaving. Especially when I don't have to (read: any day I don't have to work).
But this morning, I woke up. And before I hopped into the shower, I shaved.
Sounds stupid, right?
It's a small step. One small victory. 364 days to go.
Monday, December 3, 2012
Pushing the Envelope
Life is just too... rigid.
We live in societies that have rules upon rules and layers of acceptability upon other layers. I find that as I age, I can't help but question more and more of them.
I should probably mention at this point (actually, I should have mentioned it before) that there is a strong possibility this post will prove to be vague... perhaps excessively so. But I'll try to clear up what I mean...
I work in what could be described as a "traditional" field. One in which men are men. They do manly things. They lift heavy objects. They get greasy and dirty. They grunt about horsepower. They make disparaging comments about their wives they'd never genuinely have the courage to make to her. You know... "man stuff."
But they're also remarkably close-minded.
I'd like to avoid too much detail, partly for concern that others in my line of work be construed too negatively (indeed, they are all good people... just people who have led 'traditional,' homogeneous lives). Part of my vagaries I hope to "protect the innocent," so to speak. I have not asked permission to speak about the following people, so I don't wish to offend in the extremely unlikely event they stumble upon this blog (seriously, a Barbie/Mr. T boxing match in which Ike Turner is the victor is a more likely scenario than that...).
But at any rate, I have a pair of female customers who come in on a semi-regular basis who are among the most pleasant and nicest people in the world to deal with. They're both intelligent, witty, and strike up great conversation. And they're just damned pleasant to deal with. Most of my staff have encountered them on more than one occasion.
To my staff, those young ladies are just "those lesbians."
Oh, did I fail to mention that they were lesbians?
Of course I did.
BECAUSE IT WASN'T RELEVANT.
Or the two extremely polite customers who are always interested in learning more about how their vehicle works and why.
They aren't "those nice, inquisitive women." They get branded as "those cross dressers."
Failed to mention that one, too?
Again...
NOT RELEVANT.
Let me take a quick aside here, lest I be judged as "another Internet soap box guy." I will be the first to admit that when I was younger, I made the mistake of falling into that crowd. I made the mistake of placing someone's sexuality or personal proclivities over the person as a whole. Took one aspect and made a judgment.
But as I matured and more life experiences took hold, I came to realize how stupid that was. There's only one run at life... so shouldn't we strive to enjoy it? More importantly... what makes us think we have the right to determine how someone else enjoys it?
I've been a tabletop wargamer for many years (I'm going somewhere with this, I promise). I once heard someone say something about wargaming that has stuck with me.
"No one has the right to tell you how to enjoy your hobby."
I just wish that could apply to life and that we'd loosen up; mix black and white, gay and straight, Cardassian and Bajoran... and have people stop fearing or dwelling on certain traits.
I admit that I've kind of lost where I was going here. It's late, I'm tired, and this was, admittedly, poorly plotted in my mind... but I hope it gets you thinking.
It's got me thinking... I've been afraid off a story for some time... in part because of the classic fears, and in part because of society's envelope. I didn't know how far I could push it before the tapestry of my story unraveled; before my words were ignored as a cheap vessel to write "smut" or "advance an agenda."
Honestly, I still don't know how far I can push.
And I am still afraid.
But I think I need to put aside that fear and write. Tell the world my story.
I encourage you to do the same.
We live in societies that have rules upon rules and layers of acceptability upon other layers. I find that as I age, I can't help but question more and more of them.
I should probably mention at this point (actually, I should have mentioned it before) that there is a strong possibility this post will prove to be vague... perhaps excessively so. But I'll try to clear up what I mean...
I work in what could be described as a "traditional" field. One in which men are men. They do manly things. They lift heavy objects. They get greasy and dirty. They grunt about horsepower. They make disparaging comments about their wives they'd never genuinely have the courage to make to her. You know... "man stuff."
But they're also remarkably close-minded.
I'd like to avoid too much detail, partly for concern that others in my line of work be construed too negatively (indeed, they are all good people... just people who have led 'traditional,' homogeneous lives). Part of my vagaries I hope to "protect the innocent," so to speak. I have not asked permission to speak about the following people, so I don't wish to offend in the extremely unlikely event they stumble upon this blog (seriously, a Barbie/Mr. T boxing match in which Ike Turner is the victor is a more likely scenario than that...).
But at any rate, I have a pair of female customers who come in on a semi-regular basis who are among the most pleasant and nicest people in the world to deal with. They're both intelligent, witty, and strike up great conversation. And they're just damned pleasant to deal with. Most of my staff have encountered them on more than one occasion.
To my staff, those young ladies are just "those lesbians."
Oh, did I fail to mention that they were lesbians?
Of course I did.
BECAUSE IT WASN'T RELEVANT.
Or the two extremely polite customers who are always interested in learning more about how their vehicle works and why.
They aren't "those nice, inquisitive women." They get branded as "those cross dressers."
Failed to mention that one, too?
Again...
NOT RELEVANT.
Let me take a quick aside here, lest I be judged as "another Internet soap box guy." I will be the first to admit that when I was younger, I made the mistake of falling into that crowd. I made the mistake of placing someone's sexuality or personal proclivities over the person as a whole. Took one aspect and made a judgment.
But as I matured and more life experiences took hold, I came to realize how stupid that was. There's only one run at life... so shouldn't we strive to enjoy it? More importantly... what makes us think we have the right to determine how someone else enjoys it?
I've been a tabletop wargamer for many years (I'm going somewhere with this, I promise). I once heard someone say something about wargaming that has stuck with me.
"No one has the right to tell you how to enjoy your hobby."
I just wish that could apply to life and that we'd loosen up; mix black and white, gay and straight, Cardassian and Bajoran... and have people stop fearing or dwelling on certain traits.
I admit that I've kind of lost where I was going here. It's late, I'm tired, and this was, admittedly, poorly plotted in my mind... but I hope it gets you thinking.
It's got me thinking... I've been afraid off a story for some time... in part because of the classic fears, and in part because of society's envelope. I didn't know how far I could push it before the tapestry of my story unraveled; before my words were ignored as a cheap vessel to write "smut" or "advance an agenda."
Honestly, I still don't know how far I can push.
And I am still afraid.
But I think I need to put aside that fear and write. Tell the world my story.
I encourage you to do the same.
Sunday, December 2, 2012
The Naked Truth...
Tonight's episode of AMC's The Walking Dead has got me thinking about a few things.
1) I am not pleased with the current portrayal of Michonne. I can't place my finger on whether or not it's the writing or the acting... but Michonne isn't screaming "badass" to me right now. She's actually screaming "probable daddy issues."
2) I know I'm treading dangerously close to rehashing a consistent joke here... but lay off the black guys! Seriously! We meet Oscar as a true option for joining the group, so you kill off T-Dog. Now Tyreese joins the cast so it's time to kill off Oscar already? This isn't Highlander. There CAN be more than one!
3) Kill Andrea. For fuck's sake, just do it.
4) More Rick. More Darryl. Less not-Rick and not-Darryl. Thank you.
5) Carl, get back in the---no. I won't make that joke. I'm sorry for even considering it.
6) AMC... it's not a "cliffhanger" if your montage of clips from future episodes shows the character hanging from the cliff in a state of clearly not hanging from a cliff. Anti-climaxed.
7) I'm still waiting for Wil Wheaton to join the cast. Get back to me.
Now that I've got all that off my chest, let's talk nudity.
Last week, Maggie was figuratively stripped of her dignity with some literal stripping of her clothing. This week, we were reminded of that in the "last week" compilation. We also see Maggie wearing Glenn's shirt this week as he's gone all Conan the Korean Barbarian. I don't get it.
Actually, I do get it... but I don't.
I understand that there's an aspect of modesty and appropriateness to Maggie being clothed (not to mention decorum guidelines networks have to follow). And I understand that it's a reinforcement of Maggie and Glenn's bond and his desire to help look out for her and so forth.
I just think it sends the wrong message.
Not to the audience, but to their captors. Putting aside the possibility that to even survive in the Zombie Apocalypse, one would most likely have to, at least, loosen one's sense of modesty - Maggie wearing clothing is exactly what her captors want.
Follow me on this... because I way I see it, the whole point of stripping Maggie of his clothes was to establish dominance. And it sent a powerful message to Maggie. She's no longer in control of even her own body. She's got no physical barriers protecting her from unknown intentions. It can sow the seeds of mistrust with Glenn, because he's going to wonder why she's been paraded in naked (or, topless as the case may be).
And it works. Maggie's shame (and fear) is obvious. She covers up instantly with her hands, and switches to a new shirt as soon as is possible.
Would it not have been a more effective counter-technique for Maggie to stand tall in the face of her shame? An attitude of nonchalance (even if feigned) would be a powerful weapon of defiance in the face of domination.
After all, it's just nudity. Is there really that much shame to it?
Why?
1) I am not pleased with the current portrayal of Michonne. I can't place my finger on whether or not it's the writing or the acting... but Michonne isn't screaming "badass" to me right now. She's actually screaming "probable daddy issues."
2) I know I'm treading dangerously close to rehashing a consistent joke here... but lay off the black guys! Seriously! We meet Oscar as a true option for joining the group, so you kill off T-Dog. Now Tyreese joins the cast so it's time to kill off Oscar already? This isn't Highlander. There CAN be more than one!
3) Kill Andrea. For fuck's sake, just do it.
4) More Rick. More Darryl. Less not-Rick and not-Darryl. Thank you.
5) Carl, get back in the---no. I won't make that joke. I'm sorry for even considering it.
6) AMC... it's not a "cliffhanger" if your montage of clips from future episodes shows the character hanging from the cliff in a state of clearly not hanging from a cliff. Anti-climaxed.
7) I'm still waiting for Wil Wheaton to join the cast. Get back to me.
Now that I've got all that off my chest, let's talk nudity.
Last week, Maggie was figuratively stripped of her dignity with some literal stripping of her clothing. This week, we were reminded of that in the "last week" compilation. We also see Maggie wearing Glenn's shirt this week as he's gone all Conan the Korean Barbarian. I don't get it.
Actually, I do get it... but I don't.
I understand that there's an aspect of modesty and appropriateness to Maggie being clothed (not to mention decorum guidelines networks have to follow). And I understand that it's a reinforcement of Maggie and Glenn's bond and his desire to help look out for her and so forth.
I just think it sends the wrong message.
Not to the audience, but to their captors. Putting aside the possibility that to even survive in the Zombie Apocalypse, one would most likely have to, at least, loosen one's sense of modesty - Maggie wearing clothing is exactly what her captors want.
Follow me on this... because I way I see it, the whole point of stripping Maggie of his clothes was to establish dominance. And it sent a powerful message to Maggie. She's no longer in control of even her own body. She's got no physical barriers protecting her from unknown intentions. It can sow the seeds of mistrust with Glenn, because he's going to wonder why she's been paraded in naked (or, topless as the case may be).
And it works. Maggie's shame (and fear) is obvious. She covers up instantly with her hands, and switches to a new shirt as soon as is possible.
Would it not have been a more effective counter-technique for Maggie to stand tall in the face of her shame? An attitude of nonchalance (even if feigned) would be a powerful weapon of defiance in the face of domination.
After all, it's just nudity. Is there really that much shame to it?
Why?
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