So I went out to lunch today with my co-workers. This is the first time in a while that it has been more than just a girls lunch out and I was a little anxious about it. Employee morale is not the best right now and there is a definite gender segregation taking place most of the time. We to a place that 2 of the guys (which includes the boss) wanted to go to, Ghengis Grill. I had never been there and I like trying new places, but I wasn't excited about the fact that it was 20 minutes away which signaled it would be a long lunch. We get a table and the guys start talking about the art of packing the bowl (not that kind of bowl!). They give you a bowl to pack with meat and veggies and they add rice or noodles. I went light on the chicken and loaded up on veggies. Both guys complimented me on a good first pack. I went with the udon noodles and a teriyaki sauce. They cook the food in front of you. When it is done you can add peanuts and fried noodles, both of which I added. They place was getting crowded, the line was getting longer, and even though my food was almost ready I could feel myself getting anxious. The food was staggered as to when it was ready. We sat down and I proceeded to eat the whole bowl even though I felt myself getting full. I am really trying to work on this. Needless to say, the food was just so-so, yet I ate it all. I have no desire to go back.
This afternoon I struggled internally if I should go to the gym after work or not. I originally had planned to go during lunch, but that didn't happen. I also had plans to go out to dinner with a friend which later got canceled. I ended up going and I am so glad I went. I did weights for a little over 30 minutes and walked on the treadmill for a little over an hour. I was able to workout and not worry about time constraints of getting ready for dinner.
On the way to work this morning, as I through my gym bag in the car, I started to think about my workouts this week. While they haven't been my traditional workouts. I exercised every day, but Wednesday. I would say that is awesome. I went to the Y on Monday. Tuesday I worked out at the gym at work. Thursday I ran sprints/walked. And today I worked out at work. Not too shabby.
Oh the sprints, I wanted to get up this morning and go at them again, but I just couldn't drag myself out of bed. I really wouldn't have to start getting up that much earlier and going to bed that much earlier to get up 30 minutes earlier. I remember last year when I was going to the gym at 5 AM and I first started dating the ex. We would watch a movie together and I would fall asleep by 10 PM and be awake at 4:30 AM. Back to where I was going with the sprints. Umm, my abs were in pain this morning. I guess that was an added benefit???
I have got a busy weekend planned spending time with lots of friends and I can't wait!
Friday, March 28, 2008
Thursday, March 27, 2008
From the Heart...
The below post was taken from John Mayer's blog. I love this guy more then words can express. Seriously this was a great post and he couldn't have written it at a better time.
FROM THE HEART....
I need to write this.
I've been traveling alone in Japan for the better part of three weeks now, and It's been so remarkable an experience for me that I can't book a ticket home yet. I haven't spoken very much out loud these days, but I've been thinking to myself in what feels like surround sound. I can see so many things clearly, and feel so connected to myself and the world around me that I need to share the perspective with you.
I'm already aware that when I sing, say or write anything, 50 percent of the response will be in support of it and the other 50 will want to discount it. This blog, though, is directed to 100 percent of people reading it. If my blog truly does have any cultural effect, then it should be used for more than just pictures of sneakers and funny youtube videos. (If you don't think my blog has any effect, than you can't by definition be reading this right now and therefore don't have to respond to it in any way. Isn't that tidy?)
What I'm about to write isn't about fame or success or celebrity or the media. That's my business.
This is about us all.
This is about a level of self consciousness so high in my generation, that it's actually toxic.
This is about the girl in her bedroom who poses in front of the camera she's awkwardly holding in her outstretched hand. She'll take a hundred photos until coming up with one she's happy with, which inevitably looks nothing like her, and after she's done poring over images of herself, will post one on her myspace page and then write something like " I don't give a f*ck what you think about me. "
This is about the person trying out for American Idol, who while going off about how confident they are that they were born ready to sing in front of the world, are trembling so badly they can hardly breathe.
This is about me, the guy who walks through a throng of photographers into a restaurant like he's Paul Newman, but who leaves a "reject" pile of clothes in his closet so high that his cleaning lady can't figure out how one man can step into so many pairs of pants in a week.
This is about a young guy who maintains a celebrity blog that subsists on tearing other people down but who has wrestled with a lifelong battle for acceptance as a gay man.
This is about us all. Every one of us. Who all seem to know deep down that it's incredibly hard to be alive and interact with the world around us but will try and cover it up at any cost. For as badass and unaffected as we try to come off, we're all just one sentence away from being brought to the edge of tears, if only it was worded right. And I don't want to act immune to that anymore. I took the biggest detour from myself over the past year, since I decided that I wasn't going to care about what people thought about me. I got to the point where I had so much padding on that, sure, I couldn't feel the negativity, but that's because I couldn't feel much of anything. And I think I'm done with that.
I'm not the first person to admit we're all self conscious, Kanye was. But what I want to do is to shed a little light on why we're all in the same boat, no matter the shape of the life we lead: because every one of us were told since birth that we were special. We were spoken to by name through a television. We were promised we could be anything that we wanted to be, if only we believed it and then, faster than we saw coming, we were set loose into the world to shake hands with the millions of other people who were told the exact same thing.
And really? Really? It turns out we're just not all that special, when you break it down. Beautifully unspectacular, actually. And that truth is going to catch up with us whether we want to run from it or not. The paparazzo following me to the gym ain't gonna be Herb Ritts and the guy he's following ain't gonna be Bob Dylan. It's just a matter of how old you are once you embrace that fact. And for me, 30 sounds about right.
What now, then? I can only really say for myself: Enjoy who I am, the talents and the liabilities. Stop acting careless. In fact, care more. Be vulnerable but stay away from where it hurts. Read. See more shows. Of any kind. Rock shows, art shows, boat shows. Create more art. Wear hoodies to dinner. Carry a notebook and hand it to people when they passionately recommend something and ask them to write it down for me.
Root for others.
Give more and expect the same in return, but over time.
Act nervous when I'm nervous, puzzled when I don't know what the hell to do, and smile when it all goes my way. And never in any other order than that.
And when it's all over, whether at the end of this fabulous career or of this life, which I hope takes place at the same time, I should look back and say that I had it good and I made the most of it while I was able. And so should you.
I'm going quiet now.
John
FROM THE HEART....
I need to write this.
I've been traveling alone in Japan for the better part of three weeks now, and It's been so remarkable an experience for me that I can't book a ticket home yet. I haven't spoken very much out loud these days, but I've been thinking to myself in what feels like surround sound. I can see so many things clearly, and feel so connected to myself and the world around me that I need to share the perspective with you.
I'm already aware that when I sing, say or write anything, 50 percent of the response will be in support of it and the other 50 will want to discount it. This blog, though, is directed to 100 percent of people reading it. If my blog truly does have any cultural effect, then it should be used for more than just pictures of sneakers and funny youtube videos. (If you don't think my blog has any effect, than you can't by definition be reading this right now and therefore don't have to respond to it in any way. Isn't that tidy?)
What I'm about to write isn't about fame or success or celebrity or the media. That's my business.
This is about us all.
This is about a level of self consciousness so high in my generation, that it's actually toxic.
This is about the girl in her bedroom who poses in front of the camera she's awkwardly holding in her outstretched hand. She'll take a hundred photos until coming up with one she's happy with, which inevitably looks nothing like her, and after she's done poring over images of herself, will post one on her myspace page and then write something like " I don't give a f*ck what you think about me. "
This is about the person trying out for American Idol, who while going off about how confident they are that they were born ready to sing in front of the world, are trembling so badly they can hardly breathe.
This is about me, the guy who walks through a throng of photographers into a restaurant like he's Paul Newman, but who leaves a "reject" pile of clothes in his closet so high that his cleaning lady can't figure out how one man can step into so many pairs of pants in a week.
This is about a young guy who maintains a celebrity blog that subsists on tearing other people down but who has wrestled with a lifelong battle for acceptance as a gay man.
This is about us all. Every one of us. Who all seem to know deep down that it's incredibly hard to be alive and interact with the world around us but will try and cover it up at any cost. For as badass and unaffected as we try to come off, we're all just one sentence away from being brought to the edge of tears, if only it was worded right. And I don't want to act immune to that anymore. I took the biggest detour from myself over the past year, since I decided that I wasn't going to care about what people thought about me. I got to the point where I had so much padding on that, sure, I couldn't feel the negativity, but that's because I couldn't feel much of anything. And I think I'm done with that.
I'm not the first person to admit we're all self conscious, Kanye was. But what I want to do is to shed a little light on why we're all in the same boat, no matter the shape of the life we lead: because every one of us were told since birth that we were special. We were spoken to by name through a television. We were promised we could be anything that we wanted to be, if only we believed it and then, faster than we saw coming, we were set loose into the world to shake hands with the millions of other people who were told the exact same thing.
And really? Really? It turns out we're just not all that special, when you break it down. Beautifully unspectacular, actually. And that truth is going to catch up with us whether we want to run from it or not. The paparazzo following me to the gym ain't gonna be Herb Ritts and the guy he's following ain't gonna be Bob Dylan. It's just a matter of how old you are once you embrace that fact. And for me, 30 sounds about right.
What now, then? I can only really say for myself: Enjoy who I am, the talents and the liabilities. Stop acting careless. In fact, care more. Be vulnerable but stay away from where it hurts. Read. See more shows. Of any kind. Rock shows, art shows, boat shows. Create more art. Wear hoodies to dinner. Carry a notebook and hand it to people when they passionately recommend something and ask them to write it down for me.
Root for others.
Give more and expect the same in return, but over time.
Act nervous when I'm nervous, puzzled when I don't know what the hell to do, and smile when it all goes my way. And never in any other order than that.
And when it's all over, whether at the end of this fabulous career or of this life, which I hope takes place at the same time, I should look back and say that I had it good and I made the most of it while I was able. And so should you.
I'm going quiet now.
John
A Photo Blog
So I did it. I ran the sprints! I only lasted about 15 minutes and I probably walked more than I should have, but I did it. I thought I was going to die when I was done or just throw up. My body is not used to running and working out outside. Also, not only was the high school track team at the track next to wear I run, it was a track meet! So not only did I run in front of high school kids, I also ran in from of their parents.
Here is what it looked like when I got to the track area:
So a few weeks I donated to a public radio station I love. Because well I love what they do and I REALLY liked the t-shirt they were giving for a donation over x amount of dollars. So I did it. And I just assumed the t-shirt would be a men's t-shirt. So, I ordered a medium. When I got the mail after being gone for a few days my t-shirt had come. I thought that the package looked a little small. I opened it up and it was small! It was a women's medium. It's tight, like I am not sure I would wear it in public, but it fits and the heart isn't stretched entirely too much.
I know I have talked about the amazing care packages that my mom creates, but she also makes some amazing Easter baskets, stockings, etc. This year I got an Easter Bag including this hairdryer. Who knew they could be so pricey? There was more candy then what was pictured, but I already ate it. And I usually don't eat the chocolate rabbit until I am desperate for chocolate, because they are so hard to eat.
She also bought Sugar Free Peeps. I am not a huge pan of peeps and I am not sure how I am going to feel out sugar free peeps either...
Here is what it looked like when I got to the track area:
So a few weeks I donated to a public radio station I love. Because well I love what they do and I REALLY liked the t-shirt they were giving for a donation over x amount of dollars. So I did it. And I just assumed the t-shirt would be a men's t-shirt. So, I ordered a medium. When I got the mail after being gone for a few days my t-shirt had come. I thought that the package looked a little small. I opened it up and it was small! It was a women's medium. It's tight, like I am not sure I would wear it in public, but it fits and the heart isn't stretched entirely too much.
I know I have talked about the amazing care packages that my mom creates, but she also makes some amazing Easter baskets, stockings, etc. This year I got an Easter Bag including this hairdryer. Who knew they could be so pricey? There was more candy then what was pictured, but I already ate it. And I usually don't eat the chocolate rabbit until I am desperate for chocolate, because they are so hard to eat.
She also bought Sugar Free Peeps. I am not a huge pan of peeps and I am not sure how I am going to feel out sugar free peeps either...
Sprints
I have intended to start running sprints since yesterday morning and it just hasn't happened. I didn't get up early enough yesterday, I didn't have enough time before kickball, and I slept in again this morning. NO MORE EXCUSES. I am going to run sprints tonight. Even if it is just for 10 minutes. Even if the high school track team is practicing. Even if there are cute guys running. Even if I don't want to.
Sprints. Why sprints you ask? Doesn't she hate running? Yes running is not my favorite, but I can handle intervals and the way my trainer want me to do them, they will be like intervals. Run for 40 yards. Walk for 10 years. Run for 40 more yards. Walk for 10 more yards. Repeat. He has told me this will help tone my legs. He hasn't lied to me yet, so I might as well give it a try.
Sprints. Why sprints you ask? Doesn't she hate running? Yes running is not my favorite, but I can handle intervals and the way my trainer want me to do them, they will be like intervals. Run for 40 yards. Walk for 10 years. Run for 40 more yards. Walk for 10 more yards. Repeat. He has told me this will help tone my legs. He hasn't lied to me yet, so I might as well give it a try.
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