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Current Mood: annoyed but smug

ive always loved phone sex im a well hung guy never had trouble getting laid but its soo much fun to hear those ladies cumm for me and sometimes we meet in person .... call me ladies and let me make you cumm hard 405-6154214  24/7

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Randy wins. Again.

a recent ex beau wrote me today and was trying to be "friends". when i mentioned he didn't respect me as a person, thus friendship wasn't possible i first got denial and then the attacks came, confirming everything i had said and then some.

what is wrong with people? i don't know if he was hoping to get laid or had some editing work he was going to try to con me into doing, but why can't people just be real?

i'm not so insecure that i flock to anyone who wants to give me attention. if someone has disrespected me they're dead to me. i have no need for negative people in my life.

finally, i've found my self-respect.

now if only i could find my damn court dates for Oct in LA i could start booking shoots and life would be grand. grand, i say!

http://www.mentalfloss.com/quiz/quiz.php?q=413

Clearly, yesterday's Twitterization of my blournal didn't work out quite as well as I had planned. I left my MWF morning Astronomy class (/instructor seems fun, material is interesting, students skew decidedly female/) and rushed off to do a five hour stint at work (/very busy with orientations and questions/) during which I developed a pretty solid headache. By noon, light hurt dramatically, the sound of my own voice was as painful to me as it is usually to others, and I was on the verge of vomiting from the mind-shredding pain. Not fun.

After work released, I went back over to the other school for my Assembly and Computer Architecture class (/instructor has a pretty thick accent, but he is very funny, writes on the board a lot, and is entirely engaging as a speaker; since I'm into the topic, it should be a fun class/). This would have been much more fun had my brain not been burrowing out of my skull, but was enjoyable nonetheless.

Fortunately, I had found that labs weren't taking place this week, so my longest day (9am to 9pm) was much more manageable, and I was able to climb into my chair, eat a handful of Aleve, and be taken care of until my headache abated enough that I could be productive again.

Today, I opened the lab at 8am and did around 15 or 20 orientations in 4 or 5 rounds (around 30 minutes of talktime by me per session) amidst all of the other course-work questions that arose. At noon-thirty I drove over to the school campus, snatched a sandwich from the cafeteria, and hauled ass to my Stats and Probability for Engineers class (/we might have a new instructor next class, but if we keep this one, I won't be unhappy, the class shouldn't be too hard, I enjoy the material and have seen much of it before/) where I found that Brendan (a friend from HFCC) is in the same class. I've definitely missed hanging out with him, and he's smart as hell, so it'll help having him in class too.

I'm now on my only break of the day, a hour and a half to chill and get organized before rejoining my day already in progress! Tonight is an AASFA board meeting then sleep before the one-class, no-work Friday during which I already have far too much planned. Ugh. :)

Oh, and happy late birthday to thatguychuck, be sure to let me know when you'll be on campus!

Tags: aasfa, life, mobile, school
Current Mood: Tired

I've been thinking about fitness thanks to flynngrrl's enthusiastic and inspiring post.  Since I've been in a generally health-conscious state of mind for about a year and a half now, I realize that I'm at a fairly significant milestone.  I call it a non-anniversary.  Today is my non-anniversary of when I started getting fit.  There are no more anniversaries for me.  This is just how it's going to be from now on.

These days, my routine is simple.  Not easy.  No, my routine is anything but easy.  But it is simple.  I shop for healthy groceries on Sunday and make a sensible high-protein lunch and dinner for myself every day.  On weekdays, I lift weights for about 20 minutes every morning and then walk about 3 miles a day as part of my commute.  If I have time during or after work, I'll go back to the gym and do another 20 minutes.  On the weekends, I try to work out for an hour.

I step on a scale before I leave my house because scales aren't evil.  Scales are no more evil than a sledgehammer or a pocket knife; which also share the dubious honor of being perfectly noble tools that sometimes represent something nefarious.  I try to keep my weight somewhere between 166 and 169.  That's not my magic number.  That's not a goal.  Nowadays, there are no goals.  That's just my playing weight, and I feel comfortable when I'm there.  That weight may go up.  That doesn't make me a bad person, but it means that I should probably be more mindful of my food intake on weekends.  I do tend to eat out from time to time.

This past year and a half, I have found the level of fitness that makes me happy.  I have also found that maintaining it is hard.  In a sense, the hardest thing I do in my life is spending time every day lifting several tons.  And then running until I sweat.  I don't want to do it.  I tell myself I love doing it because I don't want to tell myself I hate it.  That's it.  The grand secret to this whole situation is to remove it as an option.  It doesn't matter whether I love work or hate it because I have to go to work, so I tell myself I love it.  Similarly, there's no option with fitness.  It's as steady a committment as punching a clock and doing finance.  It is just as essential to the life I want to live as pulling a paycheck or paying my bills.  So in that regard, I love going to the gym.  I love working out.  I love it all just as much as I love my job.  Which I love because I gotta.

So what are my goals now?  Should I keep setting maximum benchpress numbers?  Should I give myself a mini-high five whenever I'm between 166 and 169?  I don't think that's really me anymore.  My goal isn't to get fit because I am fit.  My goal isn't to go to the gym every day because I don't say going to work is a goal.  I think my goal these days is just to keep wanting things.  I want to run a faster race than I've run before and I want to keep wanting it.  I want to get real good at capoeira.  I want to use my muscles to make my life easier.  These aren't goals, really, because every day I'm doing them.  They're just wants.

And so, on this non-anniversary of the biggest change I've ever put myself through, I think the thing I can look back on with pride is the fact that now, I can do what I want.

it can fuck off.

Current Location: *cough*
Current Mood: *SNEEZE*
Current Music: *sniff*

Inspired by a brief conversation with casecob at the BSC the other day, I've decided to update my list of Gym Neighbors.  If you remember the old list, awesome!  It was over a year ago, and I applaud your synapses.  If not, take a look.  Anyway, as I said back then, around half the people at the gym are entirely normal and uninteresting.  The other half, however, give me enough stories to keep a smile on my face whenever I think about my morning trip to Central Square.

So here is the New Breed of Gym Neighbors.  Let's see if any sound familiar:

The Land Baron - One machine at a time isn't good enough.  No, this industrious fellow must camp out a number of machines all at once, like he was saving a row of seats at a movie theatre.  A water bottle on the bench.  A towel on the rower.  A pair of glasses, a hat and The Kite Runner strewn across the weight rack.  Really, Land Baron?  Are you trying to claim this land for Spain?

The Bookworm - How she's able to stay focused on that novel she's reading while doing a sprint in her spin class is beyond comprehension.  While a normal person would be gasping for breath or wiping sweat from her brow, the Bookworm is banging through chapters as fast as she's pounding the pedals.

The Groomsman - Using only the standard issue soap, shampoo and hair dryer, the Groomsman somehow creates a spa experience for himself in the locker room.  And it takes him a full hour.  He'll stock up on towels and contruct a little Comfort Fort for himself.  Inside this magical place, he'll primp and beautify, taking great care to make sure every hair is perfect.  Sometimes, he'll shower twice before clipping all of his nails, shaving and then just sitting wrapped in a terrycloth robe for thirty minutes.  Truly, he knows how to live.

The Titan - Generally, every gym has one, and he is perfection in human form.  He bangs out a pair of six minute miles on the treadmill before effortlessly benchpressing four hundred pounds.  He never sweats through his t-shirt or mesh shorts (with the name of an impressive college on them) because his body is so efficient that it converts sweat into high yield mutual funds.  When he's not squatting a quarter ton or doing the Stairmaster on the highest speed, he's performing complex orthopedic surgeries on financially disadvantaged children or controlling the price of grain with well-placed puts.  Truly, he is an epic man, and the echo of his bold strides from station to station in the free weights area are like grand trumpets.

The Ruins - Everything about him says "I used to be great...once."  It might be the torn Intramural Football Champions shirt that he refuses to take off or way he lovingly strokes the weights that he used to lift before he had kids.  Maybe it's the way he talks about how he played once against Marcus Camby in basketball during his freshman year of high school.  He knows the past is gone, but he can still relive it.  Especially when you're there and willing to give him an ear while he's trying to talk himself into doing push-ups for old time's sake.

The New Meat - First day at the gym, greenhorn?  It is refreshing for gymgoers to see a fresh face, because usually that fresh face is attached to someone who will be singularly dedicated to cleaning everything they touch and not getting in anyone's way.  They have yet to learn the hard lessons of gym life - that it never ends, that people are sweaty and that sometimes the treadmills are all taken up.  They remind us of a simpler time, and for that, we thank them.

The Million Dollar Suit - The only thing more expensive than the $80 full length sweat-wicking pants are the $350 custom cross-trainers.  If a fashion show suddenly showed up, she'd be covered.  But the question remains, how the heck does she exercise with the constant fear that she might sweat through her thousand dollar outfit?