I was lounging around the condo this evening when I heard a distant popping sound. Aw man. I thought the fireworks were tomorrow night. So I rushed out and headed towards the river valley. I didn’t run the entire way, because I could see the distant fireworks along the path I was taking. They ended about the time I reached the lookout point. Oh well.
Walking back towards Whyte Avenue, I passed a group of women, out celebrating the night. A good-looking one saw me and said hello as if she knew me. I said “Hi” back and continued on. Ships passing in the night sort of thing. She looked vaguely familiar, but I really can’t place her. That’s troubling. How the hell can I forget I beautiful women like that. I might chalk it up to mistaken identity on her part, but I look fairly distinctive right now.
This is going to be bothering me for the rest of the week.
On July 1st, at the legislature there is a 15km Canada Day run. I’ve seen it in past years when I go down there to gorge on the free pancakes. This year I thought I would join in on the “fun”. It’s capped at 1200 participants though. Last Sunday was the last day to sign up for $35, before it rose to $40. I only remembered about half an hour before midnight, but it seemed someone shut off the online registration a little early. So no go.
Since then I have been debating with myself whether to sign up. I was at the registration location this evening when I did my evening run. After the run I did a short walk around the block, contemplating whether I should enter. The strikes against it have been several. 1) I will have done another (non-race) run less than 12 hours beforehand. 2) The route is one I am sick of. 3) I do enjoy sleeping in. 4) I missed the cut-off day, so why should I give them an extra $5.
In the end, after much waffling, I decided I should sign up. So I went back to the registration booth, just in time to meet the 1200th participant as she signed up.
As previously mentioned, I joined a “Yoga for runners” class. I’m beginning to think that it is actually a “Running for Yogists [sic?]” class. All we do is run, twice a week. I have yet to see one mention of stretching or breathing. Yet all the women in it seem to have just fallen off some yoga wagon.
Today was another run through the off-road trails. It’s a bit soggy out, so there was the occasionally pool of mud. All in all, too moist too run without a shirt on.
The start point is at the Lululemon store, and after the run I returned home along Whyte Avenue. Also known as the grand experiment to see how many bars we can cram into a small area. One of these aforementioned bars has open windows right onto the street. I’m walking past the window where there are three men having a beer. One of them says, barely audible, “Nice tits.” There is no one else around, so he must have been talking about me. I didn’t do anything or even acknowledge that I had heard, but now I can’t keep a straight face.
Here I am, in, dare I say, good physical condition, with very little body fat, being mocked by a guy, sitting in a bar working on his Molson muscle.
He probably has better breasts than most women.
Either that or he’s gay and really needs help with the pick-up lines.
A while back a co-worker loaned me the movie “Deliverance”. I hadn’t seen it, and it is one of those movies everyone should see once. But I wasn’t looking forward to it. It became a monkey on my back. I couldn’t see any other movie because why hadn’t I watched Deliverance?
Well I finally saw it this evening.
I am so sick of “Dueling Banjos”.
It was a wonderful day for running. Cloudy, cool, no wind to fight against, good company. And the route was pretty hill free. So I got up to 19km, which is the longest I’ve successfully run since the injury.
Now I have the luxury of being a couch potato for the rest of the day.
Except hunger is still a problem. I think I’ll go to McDonalds and see about putting those calories back on.
I just got a reminder via email that I have the Barenaked Ladies concert on Friday. I still have that extra ticket I’ve got to do something with…
A few months back there was a big wind storm. When I came back from work, the cover of my barbecue had wandered off. I looked around the neighborhood, but there was no sign of it.
Today, it was also windy. When I came back from work, sitting on my balcony, in a crumpled heap, is my barbecue cover. I almost expected it to have stickers on it from all the places it had toured. I have no idea where it came from. The wind was from the south which would imply that it had blown up four stories from the vacant lot across the street. My best explanation: the cover had gone onto the roof of the building and had now blown off.
I just saw “Batman Begins”. Once again, Hollywood decided to perpetuate my biggest complaint about superhero movies.
[Superheroes], they’re always trying to tell you their secret idnetity, they think it will strengthen the relationship or something.
For god’s sake, it’s called a secret identity for a reason. Keep it to yourself!
Do you ever get the feeling all you are is an object lesson on what not to do?
Today I had an improv class again. Jacob Banigan is back from Austria so he is giving two classes on improvising. Separate sessions, so pay for each.
Today’s was a big class with 18 people, so there wasn’t much time to be actually performing. Still, I think I did better. I lost the cocky attitude, and did my best to care about what was going on.
What I like about improv is the amazing stuff that you find out when you put your brain in gear, put a brick on the pedal and then leap out the driver side window.
Apparently, at MIT, you aren’t allowed to have a phone unless you build it yourself.
Yep, smells can take you back. I bought a game recently that came with a bunch of cards that were sealed in plastic. When you open them up, you get a faint smell of… something? Ink? Cardboard? I don’t know. But it is the exact same smell as Magic: The Gathering cards. It brings me back to a decade ago to the thrill of opening up a new pack of cards.
So much wasted money.
I never did much with my Magic cards. I had a deck that I tried to keep in top form and had fun playing with it, but I never traded the cards I didn’t use. So, buried in my closet, there are stacks of Magic cards. They aren’t gathering dust, but that’s only because I clean my closet semi-regularly. I might make a lot of money if I sold them, but it has been so long, I don’t know if they are gaining or losing value.
Still, I had good times. I “dueled” with them often back in the day. Now, I have only the memories of happier times.
Geez, this is maudlin.
It’s just a game.
In a fit of boredom, I googled an old classmate that I haven’t seen for fifteen plus years. She has a distinctive name, so I was able to get what is probably her email address. It would be nice to catch up, so I sent her a quick note. Not many details, because I would like to know for sure that it is the correct person.
I’m a little ambivalent about communicating with her. She was far more motivated than me. She was in the debate team and all sorts of other special classes. I lost contact with her in high school when she went to a prestigious private school. So I’m sure if we compare notes, she will come out far ahead of me.
This is leading me to look at my life. I need to get it in order. I don’t know if I’m happy at my current job anymore. That may be that I’m not doing anything interesting right now, but that could change. It doesn’t help that a co-worker that I like is leaving for other opportunities. (Rats from a sinking ship?). The U.S. masters don’t seem to care about the Canadian division, so the benefits are starting to dry up.
But I made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t look for another job until I had something to show. I want to finish the program I’ve been working on for what seems like forever. I’ve started it so many times I’ve lost count. Once I have a program that I can show off and say “Look what I’ve done”, I’ll have a better chance at getting a good job.
But my job is currently the hi-light of my life. I don’t have anything else to brag about. Other than running a marathon, but that is resting on my laurels.
Today I tried something different. I joined a “Yoga for runners” course. This is odd, because I’ve tried Yoga in the past, and I’ve never felt better since I stopped doing it. Really, the “sun salutation” made my legs hurt, and made running more difficult. I didn’t notice until I hadn’t been to Yoga for awhile that the pain in my shins wasn’t happening anymore.
But enough about the past. This course looked like it would be different. Mainly that there would be more young women in it. That there is. I am one of two guys in a class of about 25. The Yoga part of the class is very small. I might even say non-existent. All we did today was trail running. That meant very few paved trails, but through muddy slopes all around the river valley. And let me say, running through the bush is harder if you are tall. Those tall branches mean I have to crouch a lot of the way. Keep your balance, because some of those trails are missing the left side (also known as a cliff into the river).
Today we had the Corporate Challenge Power Pull competition. Basically from Noon until 4:00 PM I went through a total of five tug-o-war events. We easily left our poll, beating everyone in the three pulls. The next pull we lost, but to the eventual gold medal finalist. We then won the bronze in our last round. Looking at the gold medal competition, I think we could have taken the winners of the silver medal.
After the Power Pull, there was the scavenger hunt tally. We had almost all of the items that were needed. But, there was a variable point prize: See how many people you can get into a human pyramid and get that many points. But their definition of a pyramid was really lousy: At least three rows high, with one less person on each row. So you could have twenty people on the bottom, nineteen in the middle, and eighteen on top, and you would qualify as a pyramid (not a trapezoid?) worth 57 points. No one was that bad, but a company that beat us had twenty one people in their pyramid. My company could only scrounge up 12 people. Still, we got bronze.
When I got home, I gave cute girl a call. She was busy with groceries, but she proposed taking my number and calling back later. So now the ball is in her court. If she is interested in me, she can call and we can do something. Otherwise, it wasn’t meant to be. The only problem is that a man answered the phone first. That can’t be good.
Wait and see.
This morning I took my Mac into Westworld computers to see if they can figure out why it is so slow. It was under AppleCare so I didn’t expect it to cost anything. But apparently that only applies if they find something wrong with it. If everything works, it does cost money.
The only thing wrong is that it doesn’t have enough memory to handle the latest OS. One memory upgrade later and it’s moving along quite well. There were two problems with this whole operation though.
- I thought Apple had moved past this, but to upgrade memory on an iBook requires taking out one of the 128mb memory cards and replacing it with a bigger one. Now I have a spare 128mb memory card that isn’t doing anyone any good. In other words, to upgrade memory requires tossing old memory.
- I looked through the recently opened files on my Mac. The last few files opened were thumbnails of pictures I’ve taken. Including those from my recent vacation to Jamaica. My VERY GOOD vacation. So I feel like my privacy was invaded. I complained, but there isn’t much that can be done. I don’t want someone losing their job over this, and I’m not that offended, but I don’t want it to happen again.
So I phoned cute girl again. I had said I would do it this week, and I am a man of my word. I didn’t get to talk to her long because I caught her walking out the door to go to NextFest. I consider this a good thing, because that means she likes theatre. I did a brief mention about theatre to indicate that I enjoy it too.
As I said, she was busy at present, but is willing to have me call her back tomorrow afternoon.
Further updates as they warrant.
So I’ve been thinking.
When I called the girl yesterday, at no point did she suggest I call back later. That was me. I’m worried now that this was just a brush-off. She doesn’t really want me to call.
Let’s face it, when it comes to women, I’m hopelessly confused. I can’t pick up signals to save my life. For all I know, she only wanted to get together for a one night stand on Saturday, and I didn’t figure it out.
I’ve noticed that I have an easier time speaking with married women. At least with them I know that nothing is going to happen, so I can relax. I’d like to relax around all women, but really, it’s not going to happen.
The music I’m listening to seems oddly appropriate.
I would love, once in my life, to be able to pick up a girl successfully. Just so I can know how to do it properly. The Continuing Education courses never seem to teach anything useful. “Picking up loose women for beginners”, “Level of attention to give a girl, the safe zone between creepy stalker and just not interested”, and “Reading women for geeks”.
To top it all off, the newspaper had an article about how there are a large number of single people in Canada, and a lot of them have accepted that they will never marry. That was not the pick me up I was looking for.
Today, while I was driving to work, I saw my pet peeve happen before my eyes. The person in front of me threw a cigarette butt out their car window. I hate that!
The thing that made this different was that the car in question was plastered with an advertisement for Morgex. “Phone Cheryl” at this convenient phone number. Easy enough to remember that for the rest of the drive. When I passed her, I saw that the driver had already lit another cigarette and was puffing away.
At work, I dialed the number.
“Hello, this is Cheryl.” Score!
“Hello, I was driving behind you this morning and I was very offended when I saw you toss a cigarette butt out the window.”
I continue: “Could you please not do that in the future.” I’m trying to be polite here, although my first instinct was to be snarky.
Then the raspiest voice I’ve ever heard “Thank you for your advice.” This person has obviously been chain smoking for a long time.
I had a good feeling for the rest of the morning.
At work today, I asked some coworkers for some advice. The gaggle of documenters are usually good for this, and they don’t take anything too seriously. I asked about the best way to call a girl after she has given you a phone number. I got some suggestions, which I planned to use for ammunition when I phoned the cute girl from Saturday. First I’ll get a good conversation going, and then see if she wants to go to a movie together. Of course, asking these people for advice was like announcing it on the PA system, and I had Kevan pumping me for details soon after.
Interesting side note: He overheard a conversation between two beauty estheticians while coming up the stairs this morning. The energetic one was heard to claim that she had seen every Star Trek episode. He instantly thought that this would be a good girl for me. Apparently I’m supposed to go down to the beauty esthetician academy and ask for a haircut by someone who likes Star Trek.
But I digress!
So, this evening I spent about half an hour pumping myself up to phone her. When I did, there was an answer on the first ring, and it wasn’t a pizza parlor. It was her actual number. That’s one fear gone, now I have to deal with the talking-to-her one.
Unfortunately, she was not that thrilled to hear from me. Her friend was in the hospital. I didn’t get the details, but apparently some people are crazy. She was busy calling the people she knew. So my telephone call wasn’t that welcome. I said I’ll try later in the week.
Better luck next time.
I’m at odds with myself.
I am a Mac user. I admit to thinking that Apple could do no wrong.
I still feel uncomfortable around Microsoft, but I’ve grown away for the general hate. I use the OS at work and it hasn’t killed me yet. Plus, I had to use their browser on my machine for the longest time.
But Intel. There I have been able to keep a nice steady loathing. The entire basis of this loathing has been that their x86 series uses Little-Endian architecture. I’m just offended by that. It stores the numbers the opposite way that everyone is taught in school. The Apple has always uses the great Big-Endian system. If they ever converted to the proper endian, I would be happy.
Now, during the Stevenote, the exact opposite has happened.
What am I supposed to do now?
Suck it up, princess.
I’m operating on very little sleep right now. I tried to take a relaxing nap on the balcony this afternoon. Surprisingly, I couldn’t sleep. But I did get a nice sun burn.
As it stands, in the last 36 hours, I’ve had three hours of sleep. I’m still alert, but my motivation to do anything isn’t that high. I’ll turn in soon.
I wonder how long I can keep this up. I got the two hours of sleep last night, but getting up was really hard. The force of gravity was particularly strong this morning. I am very glad I accidently took an hour long nap yesterday afternoon.
Anyway, the morning run gave me a nice hit of endorphins so I am fully cognizant. I’m going to see how long I can keep this up for. That will require me to constantly be doing something. If I stop and do something relaxing, I’m going to be out.
Let the challenge begin.
There was a fun event at New City. I’d like to say it went pretty well considering the time I’ve gotten home. I have to get up in two hours, and I know if I go to sleep, it’s going to be hell to wake back up.
Still I’m going to try.
Details to follow.
On the way to work this morning I was listening to the noble CBC AM radio. They announced that on Canada Day, the Barenaked Ladies would be performing at Commonwealth Stadium.
Go to www.ticketmaster.ca and get your free ticket. No service charges or anything. Maximum of four tickets per person. On sale at 10:00 am.
Being an organized person, I set my alarm for 9:59 AM and was on the website trying to get tickets at the anointed time. I selected four seats and was told that I could get them seats, but they wouldn’t be all together. But it would be in row 5.
But I got confused by the interface with the split seating. So I tried again, but for only two tickets. I got those, but now I’m in row 35. Those tickets are going fast. I let the co-workers know, and they found that they could get eight tickets per person. I’ll take the moral high ground and say that I’m not greedy.
So I’m seeing the Barenaked ladies on July 1st (Woot!), but I spent the rest of the morning feeling stupid about not getting row 5.
While having my hair done the other day, I had an opportunity to read an Esquire magazine. There was an article about Johnny Carson. He performed during a time when there was less choice on late night television. Everyone knew him, across all races and genders. You could talk to ANYONE and they would be aware of who he was. No one has that these days because there is too much “choice” available that there is no common denominator anymore. A musician who is popular among a lot of people will still not be known by everyone. Johnny Carson is probably the last great performer to have that privilege.
The problem with all this choice is that our entertainment and interests are individualized for each and every one of us. There is no common denominator anymore. I can listen to just the music I want, watch the TV I choose from one of the 200 channels available, and entertain myself without regards to anyone. The same as everyone else. So people have no common ground anymore.
An example was given of how when a man wants to approach a women in a bar, his chances of making a connection with her are greatly improved if they have a common interest. With so many choices in interests available to us now, there is no common one anymore.
So I thought about this, and the consequences of this theory. I think the principal corollary of this is that individuality is wrong. The more individual you are, the less you have in common with other people. If you want to connect with people (and since we’re social creatures that is the point of our existence) you have to come from a similar enough background. That culture is being diluted with all the choices given us.
I have been told that I am very much an individual. I do what I want, and very rarely let other people dictate things to me. I have interests and pursuits that are not in line with the people around me. I don’t root for the home team in sports. I don’t drink copious amounts of alcohol, or use narcotics to make myself feel special. In general, I don’t have anything in common with other people.
I will need to stop this.