Readjustment.

Getting back to a regular sleep schedule has been a bitch.

With being on holidays, going to hockey games in Van, and some unintentional late nights recently, the youthful enthusiasm I had when springing out of bed at 5am is non-existent.

I find that I'm tired in the morning, and wide awake at night - so awake that I don't even notice my regular bedtime, and when I do, I have trouble falling asleep. I've had people tell me everything from no caffeine after 3pm to try "rubbing one out" . (There's no way I'm giving up coffee, but the other one sounds interesting...)

It's driving me a bit nutty and pissing me off - but I'm not going to lose any sleep over it.. (Ya see what I did there?)

So if you find that my rambling is less coherent than usual, you'll know why.

Later.

I Feel:

• That's it's been a long time since I did an "I Feel" list.
• That the more reality TV my wife watches, the more I like crazy retarded shows, like Archer & Venture Bros.
• That being the "Tech Guy" at work just means that people think anything I do with a computer should be twice as fast as if they did it - like I can make Windows 7 boot faster just 'cause it's me.
• That some days I could just drink coffee and bitch and be happy.
• That the previous statement made me sound really gay.
  
• That after listening to some Smodcast Shows (Hollywood Babble-On & Smodcast), I really wish I would have taken the Sidekick's offer to do a podcast 2 years ago.
• That the pain involved in a cracked tooth, infection, and root canal is more than I would ever want to deal with again.
  
• That being said - I fucking loooove Percocet.
  
• That no one should worry - I won't sell DVD's to feed a potential painkiller addiction. But I may trade in the Mother-in-Law's dog.
• That it's 15 days until the Foo Fighters Wasting Light is released - not that I'm counting or anything.
• That I still have yet to come up with a way to end one of these things.

Later.

Back in the Saddle

Holidays are over, and I'm back to work.

As much as I like the regular routine again, there's something to be said for not having to work. I got to spend a lot of time with my oldest boy, who's big wish over spring break was to watch all the Star Wars movies with me.

How does anyone say no to that?

So after being bombarded with Jedi vs Sith questions for six days (which I had all the answers for, thank you very much) I was reluctant to get back to the real world.

And if the prequels were as good as they should have been, I wouldn't want to come back at all..

But I'm here and I'll make the best of it - although it would be easier with a Lightsaber.

Later.

Uplifting.

If there's one song that can get me through a bad day, this is it.

John Butler is freaking amazing.

When you play this good, who needs words?






Later.

Recovery.

I'm not the youngster I used to be.

(I know, you're shocked, right?)

But even though I'm in better shape at 38 than when I was 28, there are some things that take me just a bit longer to recover from than they used to.

A Hockey Game in Vancouverwith the Sidekick, and the resulting beerfest is a great example.

Saw my Avalanche lose to the hometown boys Wednesday night, and I'm still feeling some of the effects.

I'm telling everyone that the problem is the fact that you can't sleep comfortably on the ferry on the way home - if BC Ferries would invest in some bedspace with comfy mattresses, I'd be well rested and feeling chipper.

I can hear your advice - "If you would just act your age and try not to drink like a 22 year old, you'd be fine." - but where's the fun in that?

At least I have the memories of the trip (fuzzy as they are) to console me during the arduous recovery process.

Yeah, its worth it.

Later.

Missing Out.

Bumped into a person I know from Running last night.

We always talk races, training, nutrition, etc, whenever we see each other. It's great conversation, she's full of insight and wisdom, and its just great to chat with someone who is as passionate about running as I am.

So it was very disappointing for me to break it that I won't be running the Comox Half Marathon this year.  It's on Sunday, and with being sick, problems with my foot (getting better!), and just the fact that I haven't run enough mean I would be setting myself up for failure.

I ran it the last 2 years - missing out on this race will suck. I know its the right thing to do, but it bugs the shit outta me that I'm not in it.

Luckily my Running friend put a positive spin on it - sure, I will miss out on the Half, but now I'll have a chance to get ready for the Merville 15k - and she doesn't think I can beat her.

The gauntlet has been thrown down - and I have to answer.

Now the Merville race can't get here fast enough.

Later.

I Hate Erasing

I'm a list type of guy.

To-do lists are my bread and butter at work - being organized makes me look good, and helps me do my job better.

I do have one quirk when it comes to writing out my list:

- if I make any mistake - spelling, prioritization, or otherwise - when writing my list, I have to chuck the whole thing over and start again.

It may seem weird, but I just can't stand to see an imperfection on there - it drives me nuts. Sure, its a waste of paper - but I live in a town whose (former) main export was pulp and paper, so I've been trained for years that we can always just cut another tree down, go ahead and chuck away.

Even if we were still writing on pelts, I'd be the guy who wastes 3 cats just getting his list perfect.

But once its written, it's gold - and since getting it done makes me look like a hero, why mess with success?

Just be grateful that blog writing wasn't all paper based - the amount I stop and restart each post, I would be personally responsible for most of the Amazon deforestation.

Later.

Solitary Confinement and The Wonders of Vitamin D

Take one slightly fatigued, middle-aged guy after a workout.

Place him in a lighted tube, with bulbs that overload his pasty white skin cells with Vitamin D (Nature's pick-me up).

Add awesome music, (The previous post's "Rope") some skin cream, and

Subtract the fact that anyone can see or hear him.

What do you get?


Well, according to the guy who was actually in the tube, you get a fucking Rock Star.

Maybe it was the perfect storm of exhaustion, endorphins, and enthusiasm, but for a moment - just a moment - it felt like I was on stage, rocking away with the best of them.

Then the lights turned off, the door opened, and it was time to get back to the real world.

Who cares? I'm still feeling the high.



Later.

Gimme Some Rope

April 12th can't come fast enough.

As much as I'm looking forward to the new album, my real thrill will be trying to catch the Foo when (and if) they come to my neck of the woods. (Whaddya say, Dave? How about the Save-On Centre in Victoria??)

Time to bust out my personal Greatest Hits and give it a run through again.. (Febuary Stars, anyone?)




Later.

Sprung Forward

It's amazing how much of a difference an hour makes.

Subtract an hour (or even two) from my sleep any other time of year and I shrug it off and continue on with life. (Usually these subtractions are related to kids or the bar - either one.)

But if you TELL me I have to move my clock ahead, and forcibly rip that hour from me, I feel like a bag of shit.

Daylight Savings was partially Ben Franklin's idea - why do we even listen to a guy who's famous for flying a kite in an electrical storm?

Whoever made that call was suffering from lack of sleep already.

Later.

Generational Gap.

WARNING: The following will make me sound reeeeally old. If your mental picture of me involves youth and vitality, stop reading now.

So after picking up the boys from school, we're on the drive downtown when #1 son asks me a question about movies. (I encourage an open dialogue with my kids -especially in the entertainment category.)

"Daddy, what movie did you like to watch over and over again when you were my age?"

Simple question, right? If I would have thought about it, I would have just said "Star Wars" and been done with it.

But nooooo. I have to explain to both of them that when I was their age, you couldn't just watch a movie over and over at your house whenever you wanted.

"But why not, Daddy?"

So I explain that when I was eight, there was no Internet, so we couldn't download a movie; no rack of DVDs because a) there were no DVDs and b) VHS tapes were like $60 a pop and you had to rent the player because they were to expensive to own; and we only had 12 channels, movies were only on Sunday nights and you didn't get to pick what it was.

The sheer look of horror on their faces was astounding - you think I had just told them I grew up before fire was invented.

They couldn't wrap their heads around the fact that there were limited entertainment choices and that if you didn't like what was on, you were out of luck. (Come on, you think I watched Return to Witch Mountain by choice?)

To them, I must have lived in an entertainment wasteland.

I love the fact that I can watch what I want, when I want to -  but there's something to be said for the days of racing home to be ready for when the movie starts, needing a electrical engineering diploma to hook up a VCR and a virginal sacrifice to set up and record a program.

We appreciated it more, dammit!

I think I'll start the "Walked uphill to school both ways" conversation next week...

Later.

Embracing My Nerditude

Right now I'm typing on a blog, while listening to the Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog Soundtrack, and getting Twitter updates about Kevin Smith movies on my smartphone.

Holy Shit, I'm either a huge fucking nerd or the greatest multi-tasker known to man.

Shame?

I don't know what your talking about.


Later.

So Fucking Tired.

Remember that TV show, Heroes?

Do you recall that there were characters other than the cheerleader? (I know, I was shocked too.)

Well there was the one guy, he had the power to stop time - pause, wait, start again.. On my list of superpowers to wish for, it doesn't rate that high. (Pause, Rewind, and Start Over - that's the cool one - I like my superpowers like I like my Tivo.)

However, on days like today, it would be the most bitchin' power going -  I'd stop time, take a sweet fucking nap, and BAM! -  right back to work again. Sure, the day would be a lot longer for me, but throw a couple naps in there, and who cares?

Sounds sweet, right?

I thought so.

Later.

Gluteial Eyestrain.

I used to look forward to casual days at work.

Lately, not so much.

The main reason? Lulemon pants.

Back when all the girls wore frumpy, baggy, dress slacks to work, casual Friday was a welcome relief for the eyes. Jeans that hugged, cleavage, -it was a wonderful day all around.

Not that it still isn't great, but after looking at black, form-fitting pants that gently caress the curves and make almost every ass look like a Supermodel's it tough to just look at a regular pair of jeans the same way again.

I guess I'll just have to suffer through it.

(Waits for all the comments from guys who work in male-dominated areas, bitching that I'm complaining about looking at ass when all they can see is hairy man-crack.)

Life's tough, my friends.

Later.

Motivation Frustration

I know I've talked before about my lack of motivation when I comes to my days off and doing shit around the house.

But I've hit a different kind of wall.

If you're a regular reader of my Twitter feed, you will notice something has been missing lately. (The first person who says "Yeah, funny shit." Gets shot.) Those updates every time I run? The ones with how far, how long, and when? Yeah - there haven't been any of those for a week or so.

Part of the reason was an injury to my foot, which isn't horrible, but rest and not pushing it are essential. The other is that I've had a chest cold for a week, and the thought of running through a chest full of phlem isn't appealing at all.

What I should be doing is maintaining my diet, hitting the weights at the gym instead of running, and get back to it a.s.a.p.

Problem is, that's not happening. I'm finding it amazingly hard just to get ny ass outta bed in the morning - the combination of wanting to sleep as well as not wanting to freeze my sack off scraping the car have me hobbled.

Last year, I didn't experience this at all - there was no doubt that I'd be at the gym or on the road running each morning. And the fact that I KNOW there's a difference really bothers me.

As Austin Powers said, "I've got to find my mojo, baby."

I'm just not sure how i'm going to do it.

Later.

Shameful Recognition.

It's an awkward moment, telling someone you have a blog.

There's that moment that hangs in the air -where you wonder if the response will be interest or confusion. Most people my age (around here, anyway) don't seem to grasp the concept.

Needless to say, I usually keep a tight lid on the fact that I write here. I reveal it only to people I know for sure will "get it", and only let them know the address if they ask.

It's not embarrassment of what I write, or the fact that someone known to me will read my rants and rambling. It's more of a pain explaining *why* I'd want to write something that "just anyone" can read.

And that reason is a post in itself.

Later.

The Magnificent Mr. Sheen.

Why is anyone really surprised about what Charlie Sheen is doing, or how he's behaving?

We've lauded him for such actions (on screen, at least) for years.

His filmography reads like a testimonial to womanizing, sex-addicted, hard living douchebags. From Bud Fox to Charlie Crawford to Charlie Harper, they all drank, chased women, and openly displayed their vices.

Did it ever occur to anyone that maybe Charlie wasn't acting?

Part of me wants to be the publicly aware Dad that I am and say "That Charlie, so irresponsible." The other part of me is kinda envious about the partying and Porn Stars. (Do ya blame me? I'm a guy, for chissakes- anyone with a dick is lying if they say they don't feel even slightly the same way.)

I think that the media attention that's being given to Charlie is way out of proportion, considering what else is happening in the world, and I'm sure that he feels the same way. But people are watching Charlie Sheen for the same reason they watch Nascar - they are waiting for the crash.

I, for one, hope he makes it out ok. I'm sure he'll eventually get tired of the jet-setting and all the sex, and things will settle down for 'ol Charlie. (Hahaha - ya, I don't think so either.)

Stay the course, Mr. Sheen, you're living the dream for any man over 35. Your midlife crisis is inspiration to us all.

Later.

Communication Overload

Ask anyone, and they'll tell you I'm a talker.

However, there is a guy I work with who puts me to shame - it's unbelievable.

I'm the type of talker who kind of stays on track with the conversation - sure, it'll flow from topic to topic, but it's all related - I can look at how the conversation started to how it ended up.

This guy roams around so much in a conversation that you can start talking about how icy the roads were, and the next thing you know, you're discussing the foot speed of the average Kenyan.

As interesting as it is, it  can be very frustrating to try and get him to stay on topic - God forbid I need to get actual information from him -  I want to know what supplies he wants and you end up discussing the latest possibility of a manned mission to Mars.

I sometimes want to just stop him and point out what he's doing, but that would be a 3-hour conversation in itself.

If I ever get that bad, just gag me.
But gently, okay? I might want to discuss the latest episode of Archer..

Later.