Running is one of the best things in the world. Nothing puts my mind more at peace than running around town with a smile on my face. When you think about all that your body can do, it is truly a wonderful thing.
So many obstacles we place before ourselves revolve around blocks that your head put in place that we see as insurmountable. Nothing seems impossible after 7 miles on snowy roads where everyone looks at you as though you're missing a few marbles up top.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Do I go running or do I fence?
Do I go for a run, or do I go fencing tonight?
Definitely haven't been to fencing more than once in the last two months. I should probably fence. Yeah, that would be the good thing to do. Okay I'll go fencing.
Excellent! Now I can play FIFA12 all morning! Merry Christmas to me!
Do you ever feel like you have nothing important to say at all yet you're still talking? Yeah, I'm totally that guy right now.
Definitely haven't been to fencing more than once in the last two months. I should probably fence. Yeah, that would be the good thing to do. Okay I'll go fencing.
Excellent! Now I can play FIFA12 all morning! Merry Christmas to me!
Do you ever feel like you have nothing important to say at all yet you're still talking? Yeah, I'm totally that guy right now.
Monday, November 14, 2011
Anthropological Field Study: Movers. Segment 1
My first experience with the tribe of movers has been very informative. I have learned much of their dietary habits as well mating rituals and language. In my first report I will give an broad overview on the diet of "Movers."
I. Diet
The diet of an average mover can be described as 'rocket fuel,' 'sludge,' or 'ulcertastic.' All movers acquire nutrition from the hunting fields of Super America, Holiday, 7-11, or any other region capable of refueling trucks. A new mover may make the mistake of informing the other mover(s) in his pack that he considers gas station food abhorrent and unappealing. This is a huge mistake that instigates no end of mockery for the poor new mover.
Tornadoes: frozen prepacked tortilla tubes filled with Cheese & Beef & left to sit for several hours or days on the wild savannah heat of a hot dog roller. They are referred to as 'poopsticks' by many movers due to their resemblance to the average turd and their resistance to digestion. I'll let you think that over a while.
Monster: This is an energy drink meant to corrode someone's natural reserve of energy and replace it with one laden with enough chemicals to explode your vascular system. While many movers claim to experience an arrhythmic heart after imbibing 3 over the course of an hour (average mover consumption), it does not stop or kill the majority of the tribe.
Cigarettes: All movers apparently smoke. Some may not know it, but they are inhaling at least 2 packs a week just by the close proximity to other smoking movers. Supposedly, a mover can survive for several weeks on a diet of nothing but cigarettes.
The above 3 sources of nutrition are the primary staples of the Mover diet. I will now expand upon the feasting traditions of the Mover tribe.
Chain smoking: When a Mover is done loading a truck or is sitting in the truck for any reason, he can be mistaken for being on fire given the amount of cigarettes he is able to smoke. Next time you see one in the wild, check to see if he is smoking. Chances are he is on his way to an exciting unload in some suburban wasteland!
Bathroom Destruction: Do NOT under ANY circumstances wait for a Mover to get out of the restroom. Go across the building and use that one. It will be perfectly safe. Given the above information this should be no surprise to you.
Colorful Projectile Vomit: The victuals of the average mover tend to be rather hard on all of their internal organs. As a consequence I have witnessed a mover drink a Potion of Pepto after several cigarettes, and blast a pink cone down the side of the truck. On a separate occasion I witnessed a new Mover attempt the Chain Smoking ritual with 15 Monsters. He stood over a garbage receptacle for 5 minutes expelling colors ranging from Teal, to Blue, to Red, then back to Teal again.
I hope this has been an informative report on the cultural practices of the Mover. I will be adding later editions as I collect data.
I. Diet
The diet of an average mover can be described as 'rocket fuel,' 'sludge,' or 'ulcertastic.' All movers acquire nutrition from the hunting fields of Super America, Holiday, 7-11, or any other region capable of refueling trucks. A new mover may make the mistake of informing the other mover(s) in his pack that he considers gas station food abhorrent and unappealing. This is a huge mistake that instigates no end of mockery for the poor new mover.
Tornadoes: frozen prepacked tortilla tubes filled with Cheese & Beef & left to sit for several hours or days on the wild savannah heat of a hot dog roller. They are referred to as 'poopsticks' by many movers due to their resemblance to the average turd and their resistance to digestion. I'll let you think that over a while.
Monster: This is an energy drink meant to corrode someone's natural reserve of energy and replace it with one laden with enough chemicals to explode your vascular system. While many movers claim to experience an arrhythmic heart after imbibing 3 over the course of an hour (average mover consumption), it does not stop or kill the majority of the tribe.
Cigarettes: All movers apparently smoke. Some may not know it, but they are inhaling at least 2 packs a week just by the close proximity to other smoking movers. Supposedly, a mover can survive for several weeks on a diet of nothing but cigarettes.
The above 3 sources of nutrition are the primary staples of the Mover diet. I will now expand upon the feasting traditions of the Mover tribe.
Chain smoking: When a Mover is done loading a truck or is sitting in the truck for any reason, he can be mistaken for being on fire given the amount of cigarettes he is able to smoke. Next time you see one in the wild, check to see if he is smoking. Chances are he is on his way to an exciting unload in some suburban wasteland!
Bathroom Destruction: Do NOT under ANY circumstances wait for a Mover to get out of the restroom. Go across the building and use that one. It will be perfectly safe. Given the above information this should be no surprise to you.
Colorful Projectile Vomit: The victuals of the average mover tend to be rather hard on all of their internal organs. As a consequence I have witnessed a mover drink a Potion of Pepto after several cigarettes, and blast a pink cone down the side of the truck. On a separate occasion I witnessed a new Mover attempt the Chain Smoking ritual with 15 Monsters. He stood over a garbage receptacle for 5 minutes expelling colors ranging from Teal, to Blue, to Red, then back to Teal again.
I hope this has been an informative report on the cultural practices of the Mover. I will be adding later editions as I collect data.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Search up "FIFA 2012 soundtrack"
Right now. Stop whatever you're doing that's inane and online and do this right now. Go to Grooveshark and search up the songs and listen. They are all amazing. Especially the song "Will Do."
Moving is an interesting profession. I have been moving pianos, 400 pound butcher blocks, gun safes, marble tables, bookcases & anything else you can think of. I have met everyone and everyone you can think of: poor, rich, buddhist, christian, sane, psycho, awesome, evil, & good. I moved a delightful Algerian family yesterday. Any physical working male should move for a little while. It really lets you see how other people live on a grand scale. Not to mention the obvious cross training benefits for most other sports. After moving a piano three flights of stairs, a single human seems little more than an ant in comparison.
Moving is an interesting profession. I have been moving pianos, 400 pound butcher blocks, gun safes, marble tables, bookcases & anything else you can think of. I have met everyone and everyone you can think of: poor, rich, buddhist, christian, sane, psycho, awesome, evil, & good. I moved a delightful Algerian family yesterday. Any physical working male should move for a little while. It really lets you see how other people live on a grand scale. Not to mention the obvious cross training benefits for most other sports. After moving a piano three flights of stairs, a single human seems little more than an ant in comparison.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
A Fond Farewell: The USA, MFA, MSC, & any other acronym I left out
This post is a long time coming in some cases & a bit premature in others. First I will start with MFA.
I knew how much of an impact the Missoula Fencing Association would have on my life the day I decided to formally leave. Nowhere is there a group of people who will restore your faith in humanity as the fencing club in Missoula. I gave entire lessons about the importance of mental game, where competitors draw their inspiration and drive from, how to deal with a manipulative opponent, blah blah blah.... But the most important lesson I learned from my students was love. Deep down past anger and any other lesser emotion lies the raw power of love. Love can carry you when anger would shoot you down. You can always trust in love. I love my students no matter where they go in life and will always be proud to see them succeed and be happy. Always know that because you choose to continue to fence that fencing in Missoula will improve. 6 years ago youth fencing did not exist in Montana & now you are pioneering a whole new era for fencing in the West. Welcome new fencers into the club with open arms; nurture new friendships as much as you treasure the old ones. I was told by arrogant people that if I left, fencing would likely wither and die in Missoula. I laugh every time I hear it now, secure in the knowledge that you daily impress me with your drive to succeed.
It may do you good to know that my long term plans include you. I plan to return to the United States someday and buy a house in Seattle. I am going to set up as many bunkbeds as I can in the basement as well as a current video game system, refrigerator, and kitchen. This house will always have an open door policy to fencers from Missoula to stay as long as they like for free. This is no grandiose dream, but a promise.
Second, I will bid a premature farewell to my country:
I have an intensely abusive relationship with the United States. As the son of a cynical government worker, my nation can only expect so much respect from me. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely LOVE certain parts of my country. But saying I only like certain parts of my lover would make me rather unromantic. I want to live somewhere in the Pacific northwest like any self respecting hipster because I love it out there. It is easily where Soccer lives in the U.S., which most of you would understand coming from me. I regret not getting a chance to hike the PCT before I left, but it will hopefully be there on my return. I am not necessarily regretful about living for a year in Minneapolis, but I could have thought of worse places to be.
Here's my gripe about the Midwest: It's too nurturing. Nobody wants to leave mostly out of fear that the place they would be moving to isn't anywhere near as comfortable as it is here, and they are ALL 100% correct. Unfortunately it is precisely that lack of comfort that makes you grow the hell up. You could get shot by some sort of drug gang in the Southwest, die alone and freezing on a hiking trail in the Rockies, get mugged and murdered by a Meth head in Oregon, get treated 'in a rude fashion' on the East Coast, or any other odd fate.
I overheard something weird in Jurassic Park II but it had a profound impact on my subconscious. This story is going to wander WAY off the beaten track, so keep with me. The uber-manly expedition leader who wanted to shoot a T-Rex was having a conversation with the photo journalist about the merits of hunting one of the largest and most terrifying predators of all time. The photo journalist thought it was some machismo penis waggling contest; that the hunter wanted prove he was the baddest man in the valley. The hunter smiled and told him a story about a mountain climber who climbed K2 or some other rock without oxygen and survived to come back down. Reporters and journalists asked him if he went up there to die.
The man's response will live with me forever: No, I went up there to live.
Some of my old students will remember a lesson I gave about humanities strengths. Some of them are probably nodding and going 'yeah, AJ's a good motivator but he's not quite right in the head.' It is my closely held belief that humanity has 3 strengths.
1. We can run 100+ miles and not die
2. Verbal communication
3. Madness
Those three things are the highest values we can hold as humans. It is why I run. It is why I am 100% willing to move to a city of 15 million people with a completely alien culture where just across the border hundreds of nukes are pointed at my head.
I am an endorphin junkie. I get off by scaring the shit out of myself. I am truly happy when I am cackling like an idiot running away from something that could possibly kill me. I understand hunting down a T-Rex not because it is badass, but because something might go wrong. If you survived that encounter, you would have more respect for yourself and the world around you than you ever would have thought possible. Things that can kill you are GOOD for you. They keep you on your toes and keep you from going soft. Not that I think South Korea is super dangerous. Far from it. But all anyone who lives in the geographically isolated Midwest knows about anything Korea is Kim Jong Il.
Thirdly, MSC
I do a lot of Minnesota badmouthing, so I figure I will make an attempt at fixing some of that. I owe the direction my life has gone to the Minnesota Sword Club. This place gave a hostile, misanthropic, overweight nerd a place to socialize. While I may still be hostile & misanthropic, I'm sure as hell not overweight. I view life through the fencing strip even when I'm not fencing that much. I love the club to death and I hope the kids I see there now come to a similar feeling when they get older too.
I will miss my apartment in Minneapolis mostly because of the awesome location (read: epicenter of all running/biking trails in the metro area). I will miss being able to walk 10 feet to order a pizza, biking to fencing, biking to work, biking everywhere. I lived in an excellent neighborhood too.
I knew how much of an impact the Missoula Fencing Association would have on my life the day I decided to formally leave. Nowhere is there a group of people who will restore your faith in humanity as the fencing club in Missoula. I gave entire lessons about the importance of mental game, where competitors draw their inspiration and drive from, how to deal with a manipulative opponent, blah blah blah.... But the most important lesson I learned from my students was love. Deep down past anger and any other lesser emotion lies the raw power of love. Love can carry you when anger would shoot you down. You can always trust in love. I love my students no matter where they go in life and will always be proud to see them succeed and be happy. Always know that because you choose to continue to fence that fencing in Missoula will improve. 6 years ago youth fencing did not exist in Montana & now you are pioneering a whole new era for fencing in the West. Welcome new fencers into the club with open arms; nurture new friendships as much as you treasure the old ones. I was told by arrogant people that if I left, fencing would likely wither and die in Missoula. I laugh every time I hear it now, secure in the knowledge that you daily impress me with your drive to succeed.
It may do you good to know that my long term plans include you. I plan to return to the United States someday and buy a house in Seattle. I am going to set up as many bunkbeds as I can in the basement as well as a current video game system, refrigerator, and kitchen. This house will always have an open door policy to fencers from Missoula to stay as long as they like for free. This is no grandiose dream, but a promise.
Second, I will bid a premature farewell to my country:
I have an intensely abusive relationship with the United States. As the son of a cynical government worker, my nation can only expect so much respect from me. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely LOVE certain parts of my country. But saying I only like certain parts of my lover would make me rather unromantic. I want to live somewhere in the Pacific northwest like any self respecting hipster because I love it out there. It is easily where Soccer lives in the U.S., which most of you would understand coming from me. I regret not getting a chance to hike the PCT before I left, but it will hopefully be there on my return. I am not necessarily regretful about living for a year in Minneapolis, but I could have thought of worse places to be.
Here's my gripe about the Midwest: It's too nurturing. Nobody wants to leave mostly out of fear that the place they would be moving to isn't anywhere near as comfortable as it is here, and they are ALL 100% correct. Unfortunately it is precisely that lack of comfort that makes you grow the hell up. You could get shot by some sort of drug gang in the Southwest, die alone and freezing on a hiking trail in the Rockies, get mugged and murdered by a Meth head in Oregon, get treated 'in a rude fashion' on the East Coast, or any other odd fate.
I overheard something weird in Jurassic Park II but it had a profound impact on my subconscious. This story is going to wander WAY off the beaten track, so keep with me. The uber-manly expedition leader who wanted to shoot a T-Rex was having a conversation with the photo journalist about the merits of hunting one of the largest and most terrifying predators of all time. The photo journalist thought it was some machismo penis waggling contest; that the hunter wanted prove he was the baddest man in the valley. The hunter smiled and told him a story about a mountain climber who climbed K2 or some other rock without oxygen and survived to come back down. Reporters and journalists asked him if he went up there to die.
The man's response will live with me forever: No, I went up there to live.
Some of my old students will remember a lesson I gave about humanities strengths. Some of them are probably nodding and going 'yeah, AJ's a good motivator but he's not quite right in the head.' It is my closely held belief that humanity has 3 strengths.
1. We can run 100+ miles and not die
2. Verbal communication
3. Madness
Those three things are the highest values we can hold as humans. It is why I run. It is why I am 100% willing to move to a city of 15 million people with a completely alien culture where just across the border hundreds of nukes are pointed at my head.
I am an endorphin junkie. I get off by scaring the shit out of myself. I am truly happy when I am cackling like an idiot running away from something that could possibly kill me. I understand hunting down a T-Rex not because it is badass, but because something might go wrong. If you survived that encounter, you would have more respect for yourself and the world around you than you ever would have thought possible. Things that can kill you are GOOD for you. They keep you on your toes and keep you from going soft. Not that I think South Korea is super dangerous. Far from it. But all anyone who lives in the geographically isolated Midwest knows about anything Korea is Kim Jong Il.
Thirdly, MSC
I do a lot of Minnesota badmouthing, so I figure I will make an attempt at fixing some of that. I owe the direction my life has gone to the Minnesota Sword Club. This place gave a hostile, misanthropic, overweight nerd a place to socialize. While I may still be hostile & misanthropic, I'm sure as hell not overweight. I view life through the fencing strip even when I'm not fencing that much. I love the club to death and I hope the kids I see there now come to a similar feeling when they get older too.
I will miss my apartment in Minneapolis mostly because of the awesome location (read: epicenter of all running/biking trails in the metro area). I will miss being able to walk 10 feet to order a pizza, biking to fencing, biking to work, biking everywhere. I lived in an excellent neighborhood too.
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