Here there be monsters (socratic) wrote,
Here there be monsters
socratic

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Consider the hatches battered

I officially love treadmilling. The thing was working again around noon and I put in another 30 minute workout while playing a game of MLB 2005 that left me both tired and exhilarated. Worked up a nice sweat, enjoyed the feel of it and the pacing, everything was groovy. I am now convinced that whatever problem the treadmill has is minor and can be easily fixed, not that that really matters. Even if I have to upgrade to a more expensive model to get reliability I would do it. It makes me want to exercise and exercising will lead to living longer and I want to live. It's frickin' sweet. I am thinking of burning an exercise mix to a CD so I can play it while I walk/run. So far it's a bunch of Beastie Boys punctuated by stuff like "My Sharona," "Zero," and "Anarchy in the U.K. (Megadeth cover)" The problem is finding music that makes you want to move around without wanting to leap around like a moron (since you can't do that on a treadmill.)

In other news my boss had me do a horrible repetitive mentally anguishing job that has convinced me that I really do not want to be at this level for much longer. I mean I REALLY do not want to. It needs to become a priority. That said I've been working on a script, pouring my creativity into it, and it's been going pretty well. I feel like things are on an upswing and I'm excited and happy after a lull last night where I felt pretty lousy. My mom and I are even getting along better, though she pissed me off to no end last night when she insisted on harping on me about the treadmill and making me feel miserable. Today is her birthday and I gave her a call. She wants to spend it up there but on Tuesday when she comes down I'll cook something for dinner and give her a gift. She's 64, which is a pretty big deal. My mom is almost a senior citizen.

I'm trying to avoid learning anything about the pope and his extended death sequence. He wasn't so bad as popes go, but that's not saying much, he was still in opposition to many of the things I hold near and dear, and I also think this whole hullabaloo about his death is ludicrous. If you believe in the afterlife, like a good Christian should, then you think he is about to go to heaven. That's certainly what he thinks, he's told his aides that they should pray with him in joy and rapture as he prepares to meet Christ. Who are all the mourners mourning for? Themselves? It's like one giant pity party for a guy who doesn't want to be pitied. This is not a 23 year old girl who had a heart attack and was cut down in the prime of her life, or before the prime according to some. This is an 84 year old man who has lived a rich and full life and who believes he is going to a better place. His death is hardly a big tragedy. It does speak to the hypocrisy of Christians who claim to believe in paradise but then mourn the death of the one man that Catholics would think is guaranteed entrance. They know that death is the end, period, they're just terrified to admit it. Natch.

Right now I'm relaxing and feeling a strange urge to look at pictures of busty 19 year old women in tight shirts. Okay, maybe that's not such a strange urge but it's unusual for me. Exercise makes you horny, I know, but usually I don't like the eye candy to be quite so fresh off the production line.
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