I love Word of the Day. It makes me feel smarter than Microsoft because Microsoft doesn’t believe that noctivagant is a word (it is highlighted as being misspelled in Word), and yet, I know how to use it! I must be smart.
And you can be too! Just make reference to your noctivagant friend (can be any friend of yours, as long as they have a tendency to go about in the night; night-wander. Do note that this would not be appropriately used to describe me or Heather. We abandoned our noctivagant ways eons ago.
But isn’t that a great word? I really enjoy using it. Or in the very least of thinking about it and saying it to myself. I’ll have to use it in a Haiku I think.
But anyways, onto more important stuff.
I have a website! With a domain name of my very own! I’ve been playing around with the template site builder stuff and greatly entertaining myself. Check it out.
http://workisoptional.com/
I got the name from a cover article on USAA, which asked “Can work ever be optional?” My answer, clearly, is the website. Although it isn’t like it will be no work to manage and create content for. It will be a great deal of work, actually. But I’ve got time.
Hopefully soon I will be able to get it set up correctly. And then start writing crap, marketing and whatever. I’m really curious to see what will come of it.
So book mark it, Dear Readers, and check back daily!
And if you have any suggestions on how to make it, uh, good, let me know.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Writers Block. (the dirty bastard)
Maybe I just need more coffee? Probably not a good idea.
See, I enjoy writing, and when I get into the groove and let the fingers talk (and like a Rorschach test, project the subconscious as my fingers type faster than the speed with which the thoughts work themselves into my consciousness), I hit an extremely satisfying stride, generating page after page of content.
“Content”, of course, being the key word: anybody could just type garbage (something kind of like what you’re reading now) on end, to no real purpose; but to generate material that other’s would actually read or that others have actually commissioned is a bit trickier of a process.
“Tricky” of course, being a key word: it is not about dedication, or hard work, but rather, a number of those intangible, annoying factors like inspiration, energy, concentration, and especially creativity. If your thoughts aren’t flowing in a creative manner, whatever comes out is almost certainly going to be garbage.
This morning, I am facing these tricky factors head on, and this is not unusual. Its just that some mornings they seem to present no road blocks at all, and so I remember those mornings when I simply wrote and wrote, being inspired, energized, concentrated, and creative. Armed with those memories, then, these other mornings when I’m not feeling so inspired etc, seem all the more difficult and hopeless. Those nagging questioning thoughts begin to emerge: “am I really a good writer?”, “can I actually do this?”, “who am I fooling?” etc, and if I don’t continue to write and struggle through them, they grow larger. In a sense I begin nurturing them, feeding into them, and validating them. But, those times when I do struggle through and keep trying, its like the creative mind begins to awaken. As if it was still asleep and needed a bit more rest before beginning the day. Then, creativity takes root and begins to grow, sprouting beautiful, unbelievable, unimaginably gorgeous prose for which I receive heaps upon heaps of praise!
Err, well, something like that anyways.
As for example, this morning, I was struggling to begin an article I’ve been wanting to write for a week now. I wasn’t feeling it, I just couldn’t write anything but the most idiotic, ungrammatically corrective sentencing possible. But now obviously I am moved beyond that and are totally in the good.
And I think to myself, “huh, I actually see a topic in this jumbled mess of mind puke; I’ll write an article about working through writer’s block.” Like that’s never been done before, but no matter. I myself haven’t done it, and really, that’s what matters.
So thank you, Dear Readers (whoever of you are still trudging through this), for suffering through my personal exercise in breaking through writer’s block.
Was it as good for you as it was for me?
See, I enjoy writing, and when I get into the groove and let the fingers talk (and like a Rorschach test, project the subconscious as my fingers type faster than the speed with which the thoughts work themselves into my consciousness), I hit an extremely satisfying stride, generating page after page of content.
“Content”, of course, being the key word: anybody could just type garbage (something kind of like what you’re reading now) on end, to no real purpose; but to generate material that other’s would actually read or that others have actually commissioned is a bit trickier of a process.
“Tricky” of course, being a key word: it is not about dedication, or hard work, but rather, a number of those intangible, annoying factors like inspiration, energy, concentration, and especially creativity. If your thoughts aren’t flowing in a creative manner, whatever comes out is almost certainly going to be garbage.
This morning, I am facing these tricky factors head on, and this is not unusual. Its just that some mornings they seem to present no road blocks at all, and so I remember those mornings when I simply wrote and wrote, being inspired, energized, concentrated, and creative. Armed with those memories, then, these other mornings when I’m not feeling so inspired etc, seem all the more difficult and hopeless. Those nagging questioning thoughts begin to emerge: “am I really a good writer?”, “can I actually do this?”, “who am I fooling?” etc, and if I don’t continue to write and struggle through them, they grow larger. In a sense I begin nurturing them, feeding into them, and validating them. But, those times when I do struggle through and keep trying, its like the creative mind begins to awaken. As if it was still asleep and needed a bit more rest before beginning the day. Then, creativity takes root and begins to grow, sprouting beautiful, unbelievable, unimaginably gorgeous prose for which I receive heaps upon heaps of praise!
Err, well, something like that anyways.
As for example, this morning, I was struggling to begin an article I’ve been wanting to write for a week now. I wasn’t feeling it, I just couldn’t write anything but the most idiotic, ungrammatically corrective sentencing possible. But now obviously I am moved beyond that and are totally in the good.
And I think to myself, “huh, I actually see a topic in this jumbled mess of mind puke; I’ll write an article about working through writer’s block.” Like that’s never been done before, but no matter. I myself haven’t done it, and really, that’s what matters.
So thank you, Dear Readers (whoever of you are still trudging through this), for suffering through my personal exercise in breaking through writer’s block.
Was it as good for you as it was for me?
Monday, June 7, 2010
Lance’s official Kick Boxing record: 1-1
As noted in a previous post, I had low expectations going into the tournament yesterday. What I did expect, was to fight and to hurt, afterwards. And maybe fight more than once (its single elimination, so if you lose your first fight, you're done). Well, as luck would have it, I got to the third round of the tournament! Granted, I got a bye in the first round but after that I got a win by disqualification, then lost a tight decision to the guy who ended up taking first in the division. Really not too bad.
And today, I most definitely hurt. So I would say I far exceeded my expectations, and I feel pretty good about that.
Two things I experienced which I did not expect: I was not nervous at all. This one still mystifies me. I expected to be all nervous and anxious while standing on deck next to a guy several ranks higher than me, but amazingly, I was the picture of a calm spirit. The Dalhi Lama would be proud. Although he probably wouldn’t be so excited about me kicking and punching somebody, but if he knew what a victim of nerves I used to be, I can say with confidence that he would be impressed, at the very least.
The second thing that I didn’t expect, was that despite how not anxious and nervous I was, as soon as the bell rang, I still forgot everything I was planning to do. It was like I was suddenly plopped down in the middle of a foreign city and I wasn’t sure which way to turn or who to ask for directions…and with an experienced fighter kicking and punching me at the same time, which does not particularly allow for the gathering of one’s bearings.
And so I kicked. A lot. I pounded away with low kicks and threw punches whenever I wasn't kicking, and was doing pretty good right up until I got a full powered round kick to the side of my head.
Yah, that made my head swim for a minute. It also won me the fight, as only controlled kicks to the head are allowed, and this was definitely not controlled so he was disqualified.
So there I stood, a bit dizzy, but undefeated! The paramedics checked me out at the request of ring side staff (apparently it looked pretty brutal) and satisfied with my ability to count by 7s and turn my head etc, they gave me an ice pack and allowed me to decide whether or not to continue. Naturally, my response was “what, no morphine?”
But seriously, I’ve got such a cushion of dead brain cells that it would take Chuck Norris to make any real impact upon my consciousness via fancy footwork.
Next fight, against the second highest ranking guy in our division (the highest ranked was the guy I had just so cleverly vanquished), went pretty well. I kept hitting him with unanswered low kicks and felt that I connected with more solid punches. I had him “on the ropes” for most of the round (although there are no actual ropes), keeping decent pressure on him. But alas, they gave him the decision and there ended my undefeated record. But at least I lost to the guy who won the division.
It was a fantastic experience, however, even despite a sharp pain in my left side this morning, courtesy of a nice uppercut from the first guy, and then a repeat uppercut to the exact same spot by the second guy. Note to self: avoid kidney shots.
So what did I learn from yesterday? Several things. 1. I am now fearless, apparently; 2. While kicking is great, “punches in bunches” is what wins fights; and 3. Damn, shots to the kidneys really really suck. I’m having some trouble walking today.
But oddly, I’m kind of enjoying it. Makes me feel like I really earned something. Although I don’t know why anybody would want to earn heaps of pain. But its better than having pain that isn't earned I guess.
Either way it does give me the right to treat myself, so today, I’m going to grab the best Cuban cigar I’ve got, take my book, head down to the waterfront, and bask in the sun. And maybe tonight I’ll crack open that $400 bottle of Cognac I’ve had for like, 6 years.
I feel like I’ve finally earned it.
And today, I most definitely hurt. So I would say I far exceeded my expectations, and I feel pretty good about that.
Two things I experienced which I did not expect: I was not nervous at all. This one still mystifies me. I expected to be all nervous and anxious while standing on deck next to a guy several ranks higher than me, but amazingly, I was the picture of a calm spirit. The Dalhi Lama would be proud. Although he probably wouldn’t be so excited about me kicking and punching somebody, but if he knew what a victim of nerves I used to be, I can say with confidence that he would be impressed, at the very least.
The second thing that I didn’t expect, was that despite how not anxious and nervous I was, as soon as the bell rang, I still forgot everything I was planning to do. It was like I was suddenly plopped down in the middle of a foreign city and I wasn’t sure which way to turn or who to ask for directions…and with an experienced fighter kicking and punching me at the same time, which does not particularly allow for the gathering of one’s bearings.
And so I kicked. A lot. I pounded away with low kicks and threw punches whenever I wasn't kicking, and was doing pretty good right up until I got a full powered round kick to the side of my head.
Yah, that made my head swim for a minute. It also won me the fight, as only controlled kicks to the head are allowed, and this was definitely not controlled so he was disqualified.
So there I stood, a bit dizzy, but undefeated! The paramedics checked me out at the request of ring side staff (apparently it looked pretty brutal) and satisfied with my ability to count by 7s and turn my head etc, they gave me an ice pack and allowed me to decide whether or not to continue. Naturally, my response was “what, no morphine?”
But seriously, I’ve got such a cushion of dead brain cells that it would take Chuck Norris to make any real impact upon my consciousness via fancy footwork.
Next fight, against the second highest ranking guy in our division (the highest ranked was the guy I had just so cleverly vanquished), went pretty well. I kept hitting him with unanswered low kicks and felt that I connected with more solid punches. I had him “on the ropes” for most of the round (although there are no actual ropes), keeping decent pressure on him. But alas, they gave him the decision and there ended my undefeated record. But at least I lost to the guy who won the division.
It was a fantastic experience, however, even despite a sharp pain in my left side this morning, courtesy of a nice uppercut from the first guy, and then a repeat uppercut to the exact same spot by the second guy. Note to self: avoid kidney shots.
So what did I learn from yesterday? Several things. 1. I am now fearless, apparently; 2. While kicking is great, “punches in bunches” is what wins fights; and 3. Damn, shots to the kidneys really really suck. I’m having some trouble walking today.
But oddly, I’m kind of enjoying it. Makes me feel like I really earned something. Although I don’t know why anybody would want to earn heaps of pain. But its better than having pain that isn't earned I guess.
Either way it does give me the right to treat myself, so today, I’m going to grab the best Cuban cigar I’ve got, take my book, head down to the waterfront, and bask in the sun. And maybe tonight I’ll crack open that $400 bottle of Cognac I’ve had for like, 6 years.
I feel like I’ve finally earned it.
Haiku For Kyla
For our latest dedicated follower who is "so excited so excited so excited SO EXCITED!!!" we are publishing a SPECIAL limited edition blog post! Thats right! It is officially limited edition, meaning it can only be viewed 10,000 times. So tell all your friends! Forward it to everybody at work! Make your dog read it! Print it out, fold it up and put it in your pocket! Whatever!
And so, without further ado, I present to you, "Kyla's Haiku":
Wonder women can
Not top you; Kylor Princess
Of the universe
Don't get it? Dont worry. Neither do I (Heather gets co-author credit on this one).
And so, without further ado, I present to you, "Kyla's Haiku":
Wonder women can
Not top you; Kylor Princess
Of the universe
Don't get it? Dont worry. Neither do I (Heather gets co-author credit on this one).
Friday, June 4, 2010
The beauty of Low expectations
I’ve got my kickboxing tournament on Sunday, and boy am I excited! I’ve been training hard the last 3 days, which totally makes up for the week long over-eating/drinking bonanza in Peru just prior. So I’m thinking I’m a shoe-in for first place. I did actually consider not washing my uniform for a week so as to utilize a special chemical/biological attack in the form of a clutch (grab their head and smother their face; in this case into my arm pit).
There would be no stopping me then.
But, I am a humanist and so I will do no such thing. I will instead rely upon my cunning, wit, and charm (ex: “You look very nice today”, then they will presumably experience some positive feelings towards me and not want to hit me as hard). If that doesn’t work I plan to kick a whole bunch. While more barbaric, it does have the desired effect during practice sparring matches.
But back to the title of this post: low expectations…my instructor regularly imparts wise teachings upon us as part of instructorship, one of which is this: “if you don’t think you can do something, then you are right, you can‘t. But if you believe you can, then you can.” Now, I see the point to this mantra, don’t get me wrong. But it got me thinking, because there are definitely situations in life in which having high expectations is self-defeating. I mean, I am pretty sure I’m not going to come in first in my division (I decided against the chemical/bio weapon, for one), so I’m definitely not going to be disappointed when I don’t win. If by some chance I actually do get into a good rhythm, land my punches/kicks and make my way through the ranks and do win, well then crap, I’m gonna be a hell of a lot more excited than I would be if I expected to win. Its like that US track gold medalist woman a couple years back who “only won 4 gold medals” and one silver. Seriously. Way to set yourself up for failure.
So I guess it’s a fine line between expectations vs confidence in abilities/belief in possibilities. For example: I don’t expect to win, but I know it is a possibility.
And just so I don’t sound like a complete self-defeating pessimist: there are over 1,800 people in this tournament. Which is why I can say pretty confidently that I am unlikely to win. Most of those people aren’t in my weight and belt division of course, but this is the biggest martial arts event in the nation, and its my first time. I’m doing it for the experience, for that warm fuzzy feeling I am sure to get in the stomach after accepting my first full power front kick to the gut.
I actually look forward to that. And it just now strikes me that that might be kinda weird.
I guess its sort of become a Fight Club type thing, where the injuries and pain are satisfying. Okay now that definitely sounds weird. Its not like I come away from class with black eyes and broken lips or anything. Just bruises and numerous aches. The feeling of satisfaction has something to do with knowing that the pain is from something worthwhile, something that I actually exerted myself in. Or something like that.
Hmm, I should probably take a writing class so that I can express these things more effectively and eloquently (looking at you again, Mom).
Anywho. I should go write something that I’ll get paid for.
Ta-ta for now
There would be no stopping me then.
But, I am a humanist and so I will do no such thing. I will instead rely upon my cunning, wit, and charm (ex: “You look very nice today”, then they will presumably experience some positive feelings towards me and not want to hit me as hard). If that doesn’t work I plan to kick a whole bunch. While more barbaric, it does have the desired effect during practice sparring matches.
But back to the title of this post: low expectations…my instructor regularly imparts wise teachings upon us as part of instructorship, one of which is this: “if you don’t think you can do something, then you are right, you can‘t. But if you believe you can, then you can.” Now, I see the point to this mantra, don’t get me wrong. But it got me thinking, because there are definitely situations in life in which having high expectations is self-defeating. I mean, I am pretty sure I’m not going to come in first in my division (I decided against the chemical/bio weapon, for one), so I’m definitely not going to be disappointed when I don’t win. If by some chance I actually do get into a good rhythm, land my punches/kicks and make my way through the ranks and do win, well then crap, I’m gonna be a hell of a lot more excited than I would be if I expected to win. Its like that US track gold medalist woman a couple years back who “only won 4 gold medals” and one silver. Seriously. Way to set yourself up for failure.
So I guess it’s a fine line between expectations vs confidence in abilities/belief in possibilities. For example: I don’t expect to win, but I know it is a possibility.
And just so I don’t sound like a complete self-defeating pessimist: there are over 1,800 people in this tournament. Which is why I can say pretty confidently that I am unlikely to win. Most of those people aren’t in my weight and belt division of course, but this is the biggest martial arts event in the nation, and its my first time. I’m doing it for the experience, for that warm fuzzy feeling I am sure to get in the stomach after accepting my first full power front kick to the gut.
I actually look forward to that. And it just now strikes me that that might be kinda weird.
I guess its sort of become a Fight Club type thing, where the injuries and pain are satisfying. Okay now that definitely sounds weird. Its not like I come away from class with black eyes and broken lips or anything. Just bruises and numerous aches. The feeling of satisfaction has something to do with knowing that the pain is from something worthwhile, something that I actually exerted myself in. Or something like that.
Hmm, I should probably take a writing class so that I can express these things more effectively and eloquently (looking at you again, Mom).
Anywho. I should go write something that I’ll get paid for.
Ta-ta for now
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Mind as Tabula Rasa
Ugh!
I fear that my super powers are being drained. Ive got projects to work on but I cant bring myself do anything but sit here and stare at the computer or play mafia wars. Which is basically the same thing.
But I had a good day! I won the traveler contest thing! And I did an interview with one of the owners of the Brooklyn Wine Exchange for an article I’m writing for BrooklynExposed.com. But I cant bring myself to start writing about it.
I don’t think this is depression, I just have like, zero motivation. Hmm, as it turns out, my motivation can’t beat up your motivation. Unless your motivation has even more serious problems than mine. Like cerebral palsy or something.
I just want to go to bed now. Had a really good class. And you know, I think I cracked another rib. Its been hurting for several weeks now, and when I press on the one spot, it sends shooting pain through my chest. I cant understand how I would have cracked a rib in my chest though. I took a couple of blows there, but nothing remotely hard enough to do damage like that. But it sure feels cracked.
It really doesn’t matter though. There is no treatment for a cracked rib and getting an x-ray will confirm it, but other than satisfying one’s curiosity, it is otherwise pointless. So I will continue to avoid laughter, sneezes, and coughs to the best of my ability.
Man, I just want to sleep. And eat.
Okay, this is funny.. I know I said this doesn’t feel like depression but in the last couple of paragraphs I have just described like, half the symptoms that are on the depression check list. But I feel generally like I’m in a good mood! I don’t know.
Let me think, I must have learned something about how to deal with depression…
How about Behavioral Activation? That means, DO something that I Enjoy. Liiiike, uhh, writing? That’s one that people often reported having helped improve their mood. Maybe its working. I do feel better than when I started. I guess that’s something. I still just want to go to bed though.
This must be really boring to read, and for that I apologize.
Consider this a meditative post.
You are now one step closer to enlightenment.
I fear that my super powers are being drained. Ive got projects to work on but I cant bring myself do anything but sit here and stare at the computer or play mafia wars. Which is basically the same thing.
But I had a good day! I won the traveler contest thing! And I did an interview with one of the owners of the Brooklyn Wine Exchange for an article I’m writing for BrooklynExposed.com. But I cant bring myself to start writing about it.
I don’t think this is depression, I just have like, zero motivation. Hmm, as it turns out, my motivation can’t beat up your motivation. Unless your motivation has even more serious problems than mine. Like cerebral palsy or something.
I just want to go to bed now. Had a really good class. And you know, I think I cracked another rib. Its been hurting for several weeks now, and when I press on the one spot, it sends shooting pain through my chest. I cant understand how I would have cracked a rib in my chest though. I took a couple of blows there, but nothing remotely hard enough to do damage like that. But it sure feels cracked.
It really doesn’t matter though. There is no treatment for a cracked rib and getting an x-ray will confirm it, but other than satisfying one’s curiosity, it is otherwise pointless. So I will continue to avoid laughter, sneezes, and coughs to the best of my ability.
Man, I just want to sleep. And eat.
Okay, this is funny.. I know I said this doesn’t feel like depression but in the last couple of paragraphs I have just described like, half the symptoms that are on the depression check list. But I feel generally like I’m in a good mood! I don’t know.
Let me think, I must have learned something about how to deal with depression…
How about Behavioral Activation? That means, DO something that I Enjoy. Liiiike, uhh, writing? That’s one that people often reported having helped improve their mood. Maybe its working. I do feel better than when I started. I guess that’s something. I still just want to go to bed though.
This must be really boring to read, and for that I apologize.
Consider this a meditative post.
You are now one step closer to enlightenment.
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