Friday, November 21, 2008

Quantum of Awesome

How to make money: sell something that people desperately want, but have no idea how to do or make themselves.

I would like to have an adventure. But I have no idea how to do that. Let's define what an adventure is. I think of it as a progression of time in which an individual or individuals are put to a stressful test of which they do not know the outcome or steps, but know they must move forward.

Perhaps there are people out there who know how to do this for me. Perhaps they are called spies. This is such a profession, at least perpetuated in movies and books, where the spy has to know all kinds of things I wish I knew in order to have adventures. Like speaking many languages, practicing dangerous martial arts, getting girls in the sack, ordering the right drink at the right time, knowing who to punch in the face, flying planes, riding motorcycles, driving British and European cars, parachuting, looking good without your shirt, wearing nice suits, communicating with absolute security, and last but not least - doing it all without getting any kind of sick.

What's the price to pay for this kind of awesome post-graduate fellowship? Moral ambiguity. Loneliness. Accepting death at any time. Not being as cool as everyone thinks you are. No one you can care about. Contempt for almost everyone.

That sounds like quite a bargain, to me.

Two thoughts on the new James Bond movie:
1. Casino Royale was better.
2. So what, it was still cool as hell.

Monday, November 17, 2008

I Was Not Prepared

Yesterday I ran in a half-marathon race, like I have many times before. Unlike previous visits to this runners' moderate consolation of the great marathon prize, I was ill-prepared to run. And now I sit here paying the price with doses of pain to which I am unaccustomed. On many accounts I did not think of the consequences of my inactions.

I did not apply sunblock, and was seriously sunburned while wandering around post-race for a couple of hours in the blinding, yellow sunshine. It was only sixty degrees outside, so I guess I felt safe from those rays.

Also, I hadn't run in almost four weeks prior to this massive contest. It is pretty obvious to anyone, let alone someone who has exerted himself thus previously, that you might want to simulate, through gradual increases, the type of punishment striding over thirteen miles will deliver to your muslces, joints and bones. But not me. I thought, what the hell, I'm young and can do anything I want. I was wrong. I won't get into the chafing problem, but let's just say that it was the first and last time I wore those shorts. That, in some respects, is the most painful lesson of all, even if I couldn't have predicted it.

Preparation for events in life, although very unexciting and unglamorous, is pretty essential. This isn't news to anyone, but it doesn't stop a lot of us from being unprepared many times. Ask a musician or a student, they will tell you that they have a much better time in life when they have practiced or studied.

But when I need to practice or study or whathaveyuou, I'd rather do something that is passively entertaining - where I don't have to do anything to enjoy myself. This is my lazy man's burden. Procrastination is my rationale. I fully intended to prepare for that race, but things just kept coming up, by which I mean opportunities to goof off and watch a movie.

The easiest course of action would have been to not run at all. I would have saved myself the pain and frustration and embarassment of running a bad time, suffering days long soreness and tenderness of muscles and skin, and knowing that it was pretty much my fault for not preparing properly. But I didn't, and I'm glad. I experienced a small wake-up call that says you are procrastinating too much.

Would I like to keep running races? Yes, I think I would. So, if that is important to me, then I should learn from my mistakes and sally boldly forth with a plan to avoid them in the future. I feel like I've stumbled upon an important life lesson, but any eight year old could have wisely predicted my fate. Stupid little kids.


This is approximately what I felt like.