Monthly Archives: October 2013

I’ll eat whatever for dinner, just order anything

I get so indecisive sometimes, I can’t make up my mind about anything, even the simplest of decisions, like last night, my wife and I are trying to figure out dinner, she’s like, “What do you want?” and I’m like, “I don’t know, anything’s good I guess, whatever you want,” and she says, “Sushi?” and I’m like, “Sushi? Didn’t we just have sushi last week?” and I’m like, “Yeah, I guess, but it feels like we just had it,” and she says, “Yeah, well you had pizza for lunch and dinner yesterday, why can’t we have sushi separated by a whole week?”

And I can already tell that I’ve f’ed up, me being the one telling her we could order “whatever, anything she wanted,” but she doesn’t bring it up right away, I know she will, eventually, if I can’t decide on something, but she suggests, “Indian?” and I don’t know, I kind of just stare off into space, like thinking it over in my head, but it’s not even that I don’t want Indian, it’s that I don’t have any feelings for it whatsoever, like her saying the word Indian registered in my head, I heard her say it, but it didn’t spark anything inside me, neither good nor bad, and so I couldn’t respond with anything, I could only continue to stare, to zone out, maybe if I just completely ignored it she’d suggest something else.

“Rob? Indian?” and I need to respond, the best I can get out is, “Eh. I don’t know,” and now I know it’s coming, she’s going to get fed up, I’d be fed up, if I asked her what she wanted for dinner, and she pushed all onus of responsibility my way, of course I’d get a little annoyed if she started vetoing all of my decisions.

But I can’t commit. Do I want Indian? I don’t think so. Even sushi wouldn’t have been terrible, but I had already issued a complaint, she interrupts my thought process, “OK, so no sushi, no Indian,” and here would have been a good time to let her in on what was going through my head, “Well,” I could have been like, “It’s not like I couldn’t eat sushi,” but I thought better of it, we were already too far into this that if I had backtracked on the sushi, that would have been it, sushi for dinner.

“Mexican?” and I love Mexican, but the Mexican place by us is so heavy, so at least I have something to say here, I tell her, “That Mexican place is so heavy …” and she rolls her eyes, I don’t want to put off her suggestion entirely, so I add, “But I like it. It’s a great Mexican place. Just really heavy. Do you really feel like eating something so heavy?” and again, I think I got too busy defending my initial reaction, because sure Mexican is heavy, but now that I thought about it, I wouldn’t mind eating something heavy.

“Actually, Mexican sounds pretty good,” but she’s already been swayed by my comment, “No, you’re right, I don’t really feel like eating anything that heavy,” which is my own fault, I set myself up for that one. But now I couldn’t get the taste of those tacos out of my head, “But what about those chorizo nachos?” I try to tempt her, and she pauses, but I can tell it’s going to be dismissed, “No, maybe next time. What about falafel?”

And now we’re swinging the other way, all because of my heavy comment. Note to self: unless I’m really set on not eating something for dinner, don’t describe it as heavy. I like falafel, but, “Honey, that’s not really a dinner,” which, I don’t even know what that means, but it’s the best I could have come up with without giving her a minute to collect her thoughts, a desperate move on my part to try and avoid what I knew was coming next, an exasperated, “OK, so you tell me that you’ll eat anything, that it’s whatever I choose, right?”

There it is. “Right,” I tell her, “So let’s just get Mexican, you said it, obviously because you want it, right? You want it, I want it, let’s get Mexican,” and there’s a pause, I think that she’s considering it, but I’m mistaken, that face isn’t one of consideration, it’s one of apprehension, “But,” and I know it’s not going to happen, “It’s just so … heavy.”

And then I think, well, sushi wouldn’t be terrible, I could eat sushi. So I go, “You know what? Let’s just have sushi. You wanted sushi, so let’s get it,” and she’s like, “Are you sure?” and I should just be a grown up here and be happy with the fact that after all of my indecisiveness we’ve actually come to an agreement, but I can’t help myself, there are selfess points to be earned here, I could use this in the future, I say, “Well, I mean, I’ll get it … if that’s what you want. I can eat sushi,” and she looks at me and smiles and says, “Thanks hun,” and I’m like, “No problem. I’m a nice guy.”

Don’t be a sore winner

It’s important not to be a sore winner, which I’m not always perfect about, but I try, I’m constantly trying to be a good sport, the kind of guy that comes up to you after a game and, regardless of how aggressive I was playing under the net, even though I was kind of taking advantage of the fact that the ref really wasn’t calling too much in the way of hacks, he definitely didn’t see any of those elbows, I’ll still march over to your bench immediately after the buzzer looking for a handshake. And just because we won, just because we crushed you guys, I won’t be like smiling or anything, nothing cocky, I mean, sure I might be happy, and that happiness might naturally want to express itself with a smile, but I’ll make it as subdued as possible, like if anything, I’ll just make a face, maybe a pained expression, something that, combined with my uncontrollable urge to smile, to laugh even, you’ll feel OK, you won’t feel as if I’m rubbing it in.

Even though we probably could have let up a little toward the end of the second half. I mean, it’s still a competitive league, right? Even if it’s just a men’s league, we’re still here to compete. And I guess we were being a little aggressive, but I need to get that run in. If anything, you guys should have hustled all the way to the last second. By that point, it’s not about score, it’s something personal.

Still, don’t think I was trying to rub it in. I never take threes. I was only taking them because we were up by so much. I figured, when else is a good time for me to practice my long shot? You know, in a real game setting. I was just as surprised as everybody else when they kept falling in, just sinking three after three. That’s why I was celebrating after each shot, jumping up and down, that was sick. I’ve never hit that many threes in a row, not even during practice.

And look, you’re the one acting like I was being a sore winner, but if I was playing you, and you were the one who just scored twenty-one solid points in a row, and then you came up to me looking for a double high-five, I’d give it to you, because why not? That’s some good shooting, great fucking shooting man. I’d cock back my shoulders and give you a chest bump. And yeah, I guess it was coming out as a little aggressive, but I was just excited. You could have been excited for me, with me, I would’ve let you in on that celebration.

But no, keep complaining about those elbows. You think the ref’s going to change his mind? And yeah, I agree, the ref was calling everything you dished out, to which I’d argue that you’ve got to change your game. You want to dish it out, get a little physical under the boards? It’s not my fault if you’re telegraphing everything to the ref. And of course I’m going to shout out, “Ah! Foul!” because, what the hell man? You want to play rough?

But I am sorry about ripping your shirt. You did have my arm hooked when I was going up. Right, rough, I get it, it’s just, you back me into a corner like that, I don’t know, I guess I’m just good at making it look like an accident, like when the ref blew the whistle and I was like, “Oh, I’m sorry man, I’m so sorry, that was an accident, heat of the moment,” and the ref pulls me over and whispers to me in my ear, “Hey, number twenty-five, good sportsmanship,” you can’t fault me, that’s all part of the game.

Besides did you guys pick this division? No, we got placed here also. But only like half of the guys showed up to the qualifier, and I think, well, don’t tell anybody, but in the interest of being a good sport, I guess I’ll admit, I brought in this fat guy from the office to make it look like we’d be playing at a disadvantage, they must have bumped us down a few levels.

Still, it’s all about having fun, right? Hey, come on, don’t be like that, take my hand. I used to think there was nothing worse than a sore winner, but clearly sore losers are much worse. Didn’t your parents ever teach you not to be a sore loser? My parents? My parents are dead. No, it’s OK. Seriously, it’s OK. No need to apologize. Seriously, I’m fine. Honestly, my parents aren’t dead. No, I just wanted you off my back for a second, OK? Enough, we won, no they’re not dead, yes, they told me not to be a sore winner, which is why I’m trying to apologize. And yeah, I guess I’m coming up a little short, but I tried. That’s the most important thing, to try your hardest, right? That’s what my parents always taught me.

Movie Review: Gravity

The trailer for Gravity had me hooked. Sandra Bullock and George Clooney are doing a spacewalk on the ISS when some sort of debris storm destroys everything. We see both of them floating away, spinning, totally adrift in space. Gravity: the words crash down on the screen, plain white text on a black background.

My palms were sweaty after only twenty seconds. I mean, I don’t have much astronaut experience, no zero-g training or anything like that, but here’s something I’ve given considerable thought to. This whole concept taps into something universal, whether lost at sea or buried alive, what would it feel like knowing that certain death is all but imminent, but you still have to be awake and struggling for a while until whatever it is that’s keeping you alive stops working?

And that feeling, not being able to unclench my fists, squirming in my seat, the movie doesn’t waste any time taking you from a routine Hubble telescope repair job to, “Astronauts: This is Houston. Get out of there now!”

Unfortunately, the movie never unclenches to allow even a little bit of blood back in once in a while. After only a quarter of the way through, I was in physical discomfort, my body and soul overwhelmed by pins and needles. I guess there wouldn’t be a lot of time for pause or reflection if you really were running out of oxygen and spinning untethered away from your only means of escape, but man, it was really hard to sit still through all of that.

And it just keeps getting worse and worse and worse. In each moment, there’s really only one action to be taken care of at a time. Because everything’s taking place in the unforgiving void of outer space, each action is a zero-sum game, live or die. So it’s like ten excruciating minutes of getting a hold of a rope. Do it or die. Then it’s ten painful minutes of tying a knot. You better tie that knot, or you’ll die.

There’s a very clear goal, somehow not dying and finding your way back to Earth, but there’s no direct path to success. And so there’s really no pace, it’s just calm for about two seconds, and then everything gets ratcheted up to eleven, and that’s where it stays, the needle constantly threatening to bust through the red.

It was a little too much. Like, I’m sure the story would have been enough to evoke those grand ideas of life, the fear of death, what it means to be without hope, or eventually to be able to let go. But everything is spelled out. Let’s zoom in on this miniature statue of the Buddha to convey an image of serenity amongst chaos. Or the little dialogue that peppers the film will be random statements about life being a wild ride. George Clooney throughout the entire movie is half The Fonz (“Now that we’ve got some distance between us, you think I’m attractive, right?”) and half wise philosopher (“You need to let go!”)

Parts of it were cool. The concept is definitely scary, especially considering how this is all within the realm of like actual science. You know, I’m saying that from a non-scientist’s point of view. Maybe a real scientist would watch Gravity and be able to spot several gaping plot holes. But I was looking for them, and I couldn’t see anything. Russian lettering on the escape pod, check. Tears are cried outward and away from the face in the absence of gravity, check. Yep, everything made sense.

Except, and this was a pretty glaring error, at least I thought it was, but there are several scenes in which the astronauts either have to screw something in, or screw something out. Each time, I noticed that the screws and levers and knobs, everybody turned them left to tighten and right to loosen them up. Doesn’t this go against the whole “lefty loosey, righty tighty” rule? Or does this for some reason not apply in outer space? Was everything designed backward to prevent regular people from someday hijacking the equipment?

I don’t know. But other than that, it was a cool movie. A little two-dimensional, but cool. And short. I’m a lot more forgiving with movies that don’t knock my socks off if they’re under an hour and a half long. Whatever, I can allow myself to not be one hundred percent entertained for under an hour and a half. But that’s it. Any longer than that and I’m pissed, like, “Oh my God, this was so boring, and so long.” But not Gravity. It was short and sweet. Or short and just a tad sweet. Let’s go with short and OK.

I’m never going to the desert

I’m so glad I don’t live in the desert. I apologize if this comes across as insensitive, I realize that some people live in the desert, but I really am glad that I’m not one of them. If you’re reading this from the desert, before you get angry at me completely bashing your sandy way of life, I urge you to try moving out of the desert, or at the very least getting away for an extended vacation. While I’m sure that you might be able to rattle off ten or fifteen reasons why living in the desert is cool, I’m confident that after a brief stay in a non-desert environment, you’ll lose a lot of that sand clogging up your brain, you’ll rethink everything.

True, I’ve never actually been to the desert. But from an early age I realized that I’d never need to go to the desert to understand what a terrible place it is for people to live. When I was in second grade, I remember the teacher going over a spelling lesson. She told us a trick so we wouldn’t get confused over how to spell desert and dessert: “Just think kids, you always want a second helping of dessert, so dessert is spelled with that second s.” And although that should have been enough to make the pneumonic stick, she continued, “But you never want to go to the desert, so that’s why it only has one s.”

So for a while, I wouldn’t even spell it desert, I’d spell it de’ert, because I didn’t even want my one s to be mistaken for me wanting even a single trip to the desert. This fear of the desert was reinforced when I’d go home to play video games. Anybody who had Super Mario 3 for regular Nintendo knows exactly what I’m talking about: the desert level.

It’s a horrifying place to wind up, even in an eight-bit setting. There are giant pyramids made out of blocks, but some of the blocks start jumping at you when you get too close. Each stage is infested with these bouncing flames invincible to Mario’s attacks. That mean looking sun in the background starts swooping down to kill you when you’re not even paying attention.

And I don’t want to make this whole thing about video games, but every virtual desert level is the worst. The Legend of Zelda, Super Mario 64, Mario Kart, they’re all terrible places, desolate and dried out, the sun so oppressive that if you spend too much time on any given stage, you could wind up with a tan just by sitting too close to the TV.

I can only imagine what the real desert must be like. No water anywhere. Sand flies. Holy shit, sand flies. I’ve heard they’re like ten times bigger than regular flies. They burrow under the sand and wait for you to walk by, and then they bite you. But that’s not it, the bites get infected and start swelling up, by the time the blister pops, you don’t even realize that there are all of these sand fly eggs ready to hatch under your skin. It’s the same with sand spiders.

And what about scorpions? I think that Mother Nature put certain creatures on this planet solely to keep human beings far, far away. Snakes, wendigos, and scorpions, they’re all just living warning signs, scorpions existing to tell us, look, if the miles and miles of endless sand, complete lack of water, and oppressive arid heat weren’t enough to keep you from setting up shop here, I’m going to crawl around your house and sting you with my giant poisonous tail. Now go away.

Popular culture doesn’t help the desert’s case. Nobody was looking to settle down and build a home on Tatooine. No, that’s where you leave little babies when you never want the The Empire to find them. It’s the same with the Dune series. Do you think everybody liked wearing those hydro suits, saving up their own sweat and pee to be filtered and recycled into drinking water? No, the whole point of those books was to turn desert into something non-desert.

I just don’t get it, you spend all day riding around on your camel, and if you’re lucky enough to avoid having the skin torn from your body in an unexpected sandstorm, you’ve got to worry about not accidentally tripping over some spiky cactus patch. You waste all of your time walking across the sand for a drink of water, which is much harder than walking on solid ground, and even if you happen to not get stuck in any quicksand, it’s more than likely that the drink you were after the whole time is actually a mirage, and look up above, the vultures are already circling up in the sky, just waiting for your body to collapse from the heat, yet another feast for sandworms and sandrats.

No thanks, I’ll stick with the regular worms and regular rats, no desert for me. If anybody needs me, I’ll be far away from the desert, somewhere nice and cool, with plenty of water to drink and lots of shade where I can relax.

Keep running! You’re doing great!

I’m always looking to help out, to pass along a little positivity wherever I can. Like when I’m running a race. I get it, you’re not in great shape, maybe this is your first 10k or whatever, so I’ll give you some support. You’ll see me right before, I’ll be the one doing practice laps across the starting line. And I’ll give you a high five. I’ll tell you, “Good luck out there! You’re going to do great! Just keep going! Don’t forget, don’t give up, because I believe in you!”

It’s a nice gesture, giving people a little motivation, maybe a few pre-race tips. I like to find runners beforehand that I can kind of tell haven’t really had too much race experience, I give them helpful hints like, “Make sure you’re striking the ground with the front of your foot instead of the heel! This is going to help your knees in the long run, trust me, I’ve been running for years! I’ve ran thirty-eight marathons! I’m training for an ultra right now!”

You might need a little boost, I carry all of these energy gel-packs in my running fanny-pack. Do you want one? I can give you one. Save it for about a quarter of the way through, and then down the whole thing. Just try not to litter, OK? You really shouldn’t litter during a race. You know what? I’ll probably have crossed the finish line already, and so if you see me running backwards along the racecourse, you can just hand me the trash, I’ll throw it away for you.

That’s another thing that I do, when I finish, I like to immediately turn around and start cheering on everyone else who hasn’t finished yet. It’s great, you might be struggling, each step getting progressively harder, you’re sweating, out of breath, and then you see me, I look like I haven’t even broken a sweat. You’ll get inspired, you’ll think, wow, that guy right there is living proof that anybody can do this.

Anybody that dedicates themselves to my level of training, of course. But you could do that. It’s possible. And you, and you too. That’s what I’m thinking when I’m cheering you on, “Go for it!” I’ll always say. Or another good one is, “Keep going! You can do it!” and I can just tell by the pained expressions on people’s faces that they want to quit right there, that you don’t want to keep going, like you feel like you can’t do it, so I encourage them, “You’re almost there! Great work!”

Because you can do this. You don’t think I’m feeling any pain when I’m running? I mean, sure, I don’t look like it. And yeah, it’s only a 10k. Did I mention that I’m a marathon runner? Did I tell you that I’m training for an ultra? Now that’s some serious pain. But I don’t give in, no I keep going, I start cheering myself on, I’m like, “Come on Rob!” I scream it out loud, I clench my teeth and I start digging even deeper.

So just keep that in mind, your own challenges, your own personal struggles. Do not give up! Look out for me running backwards. It’s a nice way for me to cool down, to look at all the people I’m inspiring to keep at it. And sometimes some of the other top tier runners will do the same thing, and then we kind of have like a race-after-the-race race backwards, which, there’s no real finish line there, but still, if they’re getting close, I like to really push hard, sprint way back to the start, motivate even more runners along the way.

And when I get there first, I immediately stop and turn around, like I’m running forward again, but now I’m cheering on the other people running backwards, I’m saying stuff like, “Great job! Way to inspire! Keep on motivating!” like I’m the source of even more positive energy, like it’s just sending ripples of good vibes outward.

Did I tell you about that Iron Man I was training for a while back? Man, I don’t care how fast you’ve run a race, you haven’t felt anything until you’ve done an Iron Man. Just think, if he can do it, I can do it. I’m talking about me. And you. Just keep it up. Don’t stop, because you’re doing great. We’re all doing great. I’m feeling just terrific.