Squublog

Truly, I am barely here. This place is still here, for some reason, and in the spirit of nothing-much-at-all, I'm posting this very thing in this very place.

On? We need new prepositions.

I'm planning to do NaNoWriMo again this year. (I have a bit of an existentational disenfranchisement going on, focused primarily around my growing disenchantment with my "career". I work 4 days a week from my home, and some days it's all I can do to do any work at all. This ebbs and flows - depends on how much work is being sent my way. I'm bored just writing three sentences about how bored with it all I am.) Writing a draft of another book will probably do nothing for any of this -- could in fact further distract me from what I'm supposed to be doing -- but it could possibly force me to focus myself a little bit more in general, thus sort of letting the rest of the unstructured stuff sort of crystallize around it.

Family life is great, stressful, hectic. My daughter is 3 months shy of being 3, and my son is 9 months old, large, working on crawling, and babbling. They're both incredible.

My addiction to Steelers football, and the NFL in general, has increased again this year. I bought a 46" Sony Bravia sometime during the off-season, having sold my only remaining electric guitar (a PRS of some description) to my boss' son. It's great watching the Steelers on it, except for the fact that they keep losing. This season they're some horrible mirror image of last: in the 2008 season they consistently looked like they were going to lose games but then pulled them out in the last quarter; this year the opener was like that, but then against the Bears and then the Bengals they became the bizarro Steelers, starting off with a bang and then just fizzling into crap.

I've been on a diet for a little while now, maybe a couple of months. I went in for a check up with a new doctor, having not had one since before starting my family, and was told I was in dangerous high blood pressure territory, and that I weighed 245 pounds. I was shocked more by the weight than anything; I've been thinking of myself as weighing about 225 for years now, and even at that I was significantly overweight. So since then I've been trying to eat better; started off counting calories but have slipped a little into just a more ambiguous don't-pig-out-all-the-time thing. And I started running 4 or so times a week. I've lost not quite 20 pounds (by my scale I started at 240 and am down around 221 now), and am trying to keep motivated enough to get down to 200 eventually. 220 is the weight I've always had listed on my driver's license, so that's a first step I'd really like to hit ASAP.

The running has been hard on my shins. At the start it was really tough on everything, but a week or so in I was feeling pretty good and enjoying it. Another couple of weeks later and my shins were starting to sort of chronically hurt. My jogging route is basically a mile up here on our mountain, involving a lot of up-and-down stuff. I do it in about 12 minutes, and I have lately been increasing the distance (which just involves doubling parts of the route). It's not a big run, but the hills add to the workout and the time it takes fits well in a lunch-break sort of scenario. Due to the pain in my shins, this week I decided to get my bike in shape enough to ride around up here on our mountain. My first ride, yesterday, was just about a mile and a half of looping around up here, which is hardly anything on a bike, though it was enough to remind me that the leg muscles involved in biking and running are really not the same. For today's ride I went all the way down the mountain, took some pictures in the industrial park down there, and then came back up. It's a strange situation for riding; pretty much the entire beginning is all downhill, taking a few roads that wind down to the bottom, then there's however much basically flat road I choose to follow, then it's all back up a number of steep roads. Feels backwards, as it's hard to enjoy the downhill knowing the uphill's going to follow.

But even though I hadn't even touched the bike since a few rides a year or more ago, I was able to make the trip back up without any huge destruction of self. So the running has definitely improved my conditioning somewhat. I plan on continuing with biking (though fitting it in is going to be difficult; today's ride was just about exactly 30 minutes.) I assume because of the timing issue I should just keep going down and up the hill, as even though it's not really that pleasurable (currently,) it IS a good way to condition myself in a short time.

If I keep motivated to continue posting here to nobody some photos may follow.

Brevities:

• My blog sure looks a lot different in IE. I rarely run IE.


• I don't have any time at all to try to modify blog templates.


• I've still got a massive slimeball of spyware/malware/virus gunk sticking to the OS of my laptop. I am running yet another Spybot scan. Both Spybot and AdAware keep finding the same shit and getting rid of it and then it's still there. I've never been as close to wanting to be a Mac person as I am now (of course that's an idiotic observation -- what I do at work is tied to Microsoft, so while I might be able run a Mac personally, there's no way I'd be able to do it on my work machine.)


• McAfee's Anti-virus software still says there's nothing wrong with my machine.


• Is there REALLY a difference between a virus, spyware, and malware?


• I sent my boss an e-mail during the 30 minute period today wherein I thought the virus problem was solved saying, "Okay, I'm back up and running." Nice timing for me. When the symptoms cropped up again (bogus spyware alert messages in the taskbar, IE windows popping up everywhere trying to pose as Microsoft Security Alerts, etc.), I immediately disconnected from the network and started Spybot again. So I'm in my non-work office office for internet connectivity now.


• There is now what appears to be an ex-mouse beneath a jar in the utility sink behind me. Good way to solve the problem, mister fucking decision-maker: leave it under there until it just fucking dies. I feel so solvent.


• Our bedroom's still not done being painted; or, more accurately, I still haven't finished painting our master bedroom. The trim has not been touched. When would I possibly do that?


• I look fucking awesome in a t-shirt.


• It's November. I set my alarm to wake me up at 5am today. Our daughter has gotten sick, and for the past two nights she's been waking up regularly during the night, so the sleep I'm getting is interrupted every hour or so. As a result, that five a.m. alarm meant SHIT to me. In order to write a book this month I would basically have to live on four to five hours of sleep a night.


• Since none of the time I'm spending "working" is accomplishing anything I should be accomplishing for work and is instead spent trying to clean my system, later this afternoon when I'd normally take a break to do something like paint, clean, ride my bike, or start my NaNo novel, I'll be thinking I should really be trying to actually WORK on work instead of trying to fix things so that I CAN work on work. In that regard it'd be simpler to ride than to write, as writing would mean being at a computer, offering the temptation to work, even IF I don't give in to the temptation, it'd still prevent me from writing much. Probably. Maybe. Shit.


• Real men don't sleep.


• I had a baconator for lunch. From Wendy's. Smart move. Goddamn it was good.


• The pointer finger on my right hand has been fucked up since I slammed it between a french door and a glass door in the sun room. I had jumped up to stop the baby from falling into the door, as it appeared she was about to do. Upon jumping up I immediately tripped over some piece of thing, falling right toward the baby and the door and the toy she was using to prop herself up, forcing myself to have to grab the door to hold myself up so as not to fall on top of her. The door then swung outward toward the glass door, but it didn't quite get there because my hand was conveniently in the way. It hurt like a big bunch of hurt. Of course the baby just stood there, holding on to her toy, and looking up at me wondering what in the sam hell was wrong with me. That was over a week ago, and the pain is pretty much still there when I move it, but that's okay because I only move that finger when I: type, play guitar, grab something, touch something, point at something, push a button on something, feed the baby, eat, zip up my pants, put on my clothes, tie my shoes, tie the baby's shoes, try to crack that knuckle (WHY???) or try to hold still but accidentally move my finger.


• I was supposed to take a day off this week. Instead, it looks like I won't be able to take a day off this week but I also won't be able to get any work done this week. BEST OF BOTH WORLDS!!


• Is there somebody I can call about any of this?

Distance from my House to my House: 0 miles.
Distance Ridden around in Circles: 4.56 miles.
Ascent: ~208 feet.
Duration: 30 minutes.

I live on a mountain. In driving terms I've always said, "Up a hill." But I'm on a mountain. Leaving my door, there's nowhere to ride that's flat. I can immediately plunge down the hill I had to walk up with my bike two days ago, or I can ascend a moderate hill to get to the end of my road up here and follow another road just a little distance. I did the latter today, and discovered that that road continues as a sort of dirt road back into the woods. I followed that until it dead ended at a chain-link fence at a point overlooking I-68. There's a good bit of junk back there, including a riding lawn mower. There are houses right before the road turns into that non-road road, so I imagine some of the stuff belongs to someone in those houses. It's also obvious that some people use the area to drop off junk.

Nowhere to go from there but back. I rode down the other side of the mountain this time (there are two roads up, one on either side.) These hills are steep, and I was thinking I probably should've had the bike shop give me new brake pads. I've never changed them on this bike. As a result of that and the fact that I wasn't comfortable enough with the terrain, I kept my speed just below 30 mph, as far as I know, for the descent. That descent will be a lot more fun when I'm in shape enough that I'm not thinking about what a nightmare the return's going to be.

I followed some of the side roads halfway down the mountain, eventually coming to another dead end. Backtracked again until I ended up on Greene Street, the closest thing to a main stretch around here (and a hint about my location for those who know the area.) It was Greene Street that comprised the bulk of my under 2 mile ride Monday, another gradual incline but enough of one that I could feel the burn in my legs again (and, oddly enough, somewhere around my kidney. Awesome!) There's a parking lot there that I wheel around in for a while (did the same thing the other day.) This time instead of attempting the big hill to my house right away I went past it, up another gradually inclining road and past (I think) the house where I lived with my parents for most of the first five years of my life. Don't know if I've mentioned that -- my parents' first house is on a street parallel to the one on which I now live, but at the bottom of the hill. Unfortunately, I'm unable to pick out said house, although I've driven by it with my mom in the past and had her point it out to me. I thought I'd be able to recognize it while I was on my bike, as that makes it a lot easier to check things out, but I didn't. Everything looks the same down there. It's possible that I didn't pass it at all, as there's a section of the street that I skipped.

I turned around at the end of that street and rode downhill toward the foot of my hill. This time I turned before getting there and headed up another road which goes about halfway up before leveling off to run parallel to my street, halfway between it and the street I'd just been on. I made it up that hill on the bike, then coasted downhill to where the street I was on meets the road that climbs to my street. I turned and rode up that street, but stopped when I got to the intersection with my street. That's more hill up, and I didn't quite have it in me. Had to walk the fifty yards, give or take, to my driveway. But this is a lot better than I'd done Monday, so I assume I'll be able to make it next time if I push.

This has gone longer than I'd intended.

I used MapMyRide again to figure out the basic ascent figure. It's a nice interface for entering routes. I don't have a GPS, so I basically trace out a route on a map by clicking point after point.

Here's an elevation profile.

What's a good phrase to use for the

Fuck that, too out of it to think.

Wife dropped me off at the bike shop.

Cost to Get Bike in Riding Shape: $9.15
Distance from Bike Shop to my House: 1.86 miles.
Ascent: ~300 feet.
Duration: 15 minutes.
Amount of Mental Energy Spent Wondering if it's possible to throw up after less than 2 miles worth of ride: ALL OF IT.

I haven't ridden in over a year. It might be over two years, I'm not sure. What I didn't include in the breakdown up there is the fact that I walked the bike for the big hill up to my house. Nearly the entire ride was uphill, mostly a gradual ascent. Halfway (that's, what, .9 miles?) into it, I realized just how little work my legs have done in the past couple of years. .9 miles and my thighs were burning.

It's about 55 degrees outside; I was comfortable in that sense. But by the time I was walking my bike up my driveway, I was seriously wondering if I was going to throw up.

The bike is still outside leaning against the garage door. I feel almost good enough to go bring it in the house now. I AM THE MASTER OF EVERY.

I used MapMyRide to calculate the elevation.

I need a reenergyzation. A tap with the stick of motivate. Maybe a swift stab in the testicle by a knife held by the hand of getbacktoit. Ah, that ancient getbacktoit, whom I haven't seen in weeks. Days. Hours?

I've got a list of to-dos that would probably be a mile long if it were written down. In a really big font. With really big spaces between the items. The baby's bedroom is some portion of the way to being finished, but we've still got to order curtains and shades, and I've still got to get the knob that goes on the light's dimmer switch from off of the shed's porch once the paint is dry, and re-attach it. But after that we'll be able to put her in there and shut the door and she'll be able to raise herself and stop bugging us. I think.

That, "finish the baby's room," was just one of the things that were on the list I started when we moved in here. There were also things that were not on that list. "Sit around after work and play spider solitaire while sort of reading blogs or writing blogs or sending email and maybe sort of working some more a little bit," for example, wasn't on that list.

Another thing not on the list, I don't think, was, "get back on the bike." I haven't been on my bike in years, probably. At least between one and two years. This afternoon while waiting for the babysitter to bring the baby back here I became suddenly convinced that I need to ride my bike. The bike, though, is far from being ready for that. It is apparently utterly unconvinced of the need to be ridden by me. These incompatibilities sometimes confound my abilities to function. There are two flat

That post is so five hours ago. Interruptions. Right there, then, activity, movement, work, realization, elasticity. The baby's asleep now, and I should be too. The way I figure it I get ten good minutes in a day to actually do anything as lacking consequence as blogging. Other parents make that work well, but here I am, every word I type feeling like it's looking for the way out, the hatch with the broken clasp, feeling fingers along seems in the wallpaper. Like there are things from that list around every periphery, reaching their tendrils out to pull the pupils elsewhere, toward them, toward the thing I should be doing, not the thing I am doing. Eyes literally spin in circles with each pause. Just the tiniest of rests to think leaves me wide open to the distraction of the other need.

My bike is now in the trunk of my car. I pulled it out of the garage and wrestled into the car, having to move the weeks of accumulated debris from the back seat so I could fold those seats forward. The thought was: there's no time to take the bike somewhere to get it straightened up just now, I've got to be here when the baby gets back (not knowing when exactly that would be,) but I can get it into the trunk.

Maybe it'll motivate me to take the next step, drop it off at some local bike shop, see what they can tell me about what it'll cost to get it back into condition. There's nothing seriously wrong with it, but it's been sitting there, unused, since one of those tubes gave out. I'll never get it going again if I've got to do it myself, something else always interrupts the something I think I need to do next.

Somebody give me a shot of some fucking focus. This is getting old.