My Bucket List

We all have a bucket list someplace--that list of things we want to do before we kick the bucket. Of course, actually accomplishing anything on that  list takes some doing, so I'm going to try and outline how I intend to fulfill the goal as well as the goal itself.

Here goes:

Earn my doctorate - I am almost done with my masters degree. I have found three different Ph.D or Ed.D programs which I would qualify to enter. As soon as I can, I am applying to them.

Get professionally published - I am already published as a coauthor in a peer-reviewed journal. I need to work on becoming a lead author now. I might be able to develop a paper or two out of my masters' thesis.

Publish a work of fiction - I just need to take time out and write. Plant my butt in the chair and put words on the screen. I have a great idea that just needs to be written out. Maybe I'll delegate two hours a week to this project.

Travel abroad - I have always wanted to travel to another country and get to know the people as they really are--not stick to the tourist traps. Sandy and I talked about this a few weeks ago and she suggested I look into a short-term missions trip with our church. We send teams to Ecuador several times a year. I can plan ahead on this one: save up money, brush up on my Spanish, and maybe even learn some useful skills that will make me an asset to the team. If it works out, I may even do it more than once. And as a bonus, I can pack my binoculars and at night knock off some Southern Hemisphere deep sky objects! For more leisurely travel, down the road we'd like to take a Caribbean cruise. Jamaica is definitely a favored destination, and now that the embargo is lifted Cuba would be interesting to visit as well.

Get the Man Cave in order the way I'd like it - This one is easy: an hour a night at minimum, just putting things where I want them to be. Once the back patio is clear I can move a few things back there where I can use them more effectively (my exercise bike and weight bench, for example) and clear even more room in the garage. There are shelves and workbench space I cannot utilize efficiently the way things are now, and having those shelves available will make putting things away easier. The gaming table/train table idea is still very much in the works, especially now that I know what size I need for my table surface.

Start martial arts again - As soon as I lose another 60 pounds there is a Brazilian jiujitsu studio near my home that is calling my name. This particular style suits my build and will allow me to protect my head and my eye in a way many other styles won't. And rank advancement is fairly quick (although not ridiculously so). I am waiting to lose the weight because my joints remind me daily that I am 46 and not 26 anymore, and I don't want to risk further injury.

Complete a Spartan race - The Spartan Sprint is 3-5 miles with obstacles, and is designed so that 95% of the general population can complete it. I can already run about 3 miles even as I am right now. With some effort, I could knock this one off next year. Keep working on it, and I can do the more difficult races as well (it will also help me get to the martial arts goal too).

Attend a bachelor party - I don't know if this will ever happen. I never got one before I was married--all of my male friends were either out of town or not interested. And somehow I figure I'm missing out. It doesn't help that every opportunity I've had to attend one in the past 11 years has somehow ended up with me not going. The question is, how can I possibly pull this off? When my son wants a bachelor party, how the heck am I going to put one on for him if I don't know what to expect myself?

Now, can I pull all this off? Everything on here except for the travel and the bachelor party I could pull off or at least start in the next year. Ecuador I can do in two years. Having goals is nice, but without some kind of plan to reach them all they are is dreams.

Let's be about it!

Breakthrough

I won't put too fine a point on it, but the past nine months have been pure hell.

I knew I would be losing my father someday, but the suddenness with which he was taken from us has hit me pretty hard. I have tried to keep a stiff upper lip and stay busy, because I know that as badly as I am hurting there are people close to me who are hurting even more. I needed to stay strong for them.

But you can only stay strong for so long.

I am not a huge believer in the supernatural. I certainly believe in God in the conventional sense--if you've been reading what I've written here the past couple of years I hope that's evident. I won't rule out something supernatural, but only if all possible natural explanations have been exhausted. And I certainly don't use supernatural forces as a cop-out: "The Devil made me do it" only results in the Infernal One getting credit for lots of work he didn't do. Lazy bastard. One in every project team...

Here I am digressing again.

My daughter started transitional kindergarten today. This is a huge milestone for her. She's now staying at school for a full school day, five days a week. And she's starting to learn to read. Her homework consists of a bag of five books given to us every Monday. We are to read one of the books to her every night.

Morgan absolutely insisted that I read her book to her tonight. Not Mommy, and not a friend of ours who is staying with us who absolutely adores Morgan. It had to be Daddy. And it had to be this book:

Just for some background: my father grew up in and around the Navajo Indian Reservation in New Mexico and claimed to have Navajo ancestry himself. He would often share a lot of the old stories with me when I was growing up. As a very young child I was also very sickly and at times my survival was in serious doubt. My father always encouraged me to make the most of myself in spite of these handicaps, and never allowed me to hide behind them.

So with that in mind, my daughter hands me a book about a Navajo grandfather talking to his grandson about the difficulties the boy, who was born sickly and blind, had early in childhood. More to the point, he talks about how the boy was able to overcome these liabilities and to move beyond the 'dark mountains' in his life.

Boom. There was Dad talking to me, through a story which contained a lot of familiar elements and the persistence of a not-quite-five-year-old girl who was the apple of her Grandpa's eye and certainly is the apple of mine.

I made it through the story, but I am not at all ashamed to admit I was in tears by the end. My son and daughter both gave me a very big hug at the end. It felt good to get some emotions out, even if it did seem unseemly and embarrassing at first. For the first time in nine months, I felt like I could properly grieve!

If this whole setup didn't have my dad's fingerprints on it, then I am hard-pressed to find any set of coincidences or random occurrences that could have lined up so precisely.

I feel as though a huge burden has been lifted. There are still a lot more tears where these came from, but also a lot more to do. And now I feel as though one doesn't have to exclude the other. I finished the night with a nice hard workout. I needed it.

Walk in beauty, Dad. Walk in beauty!

A Moment of Affirmation, or Tooting My Own Horn

"For through the grace given to me I say to everyone among you not to think more highly of himself than he ought to think; but to think so as to have sound judgment, as God has allotted to each a measure of faith." - Romans 12:3

"It ain't bragging if you can do it!" - Muhammad Ali

The first quote listed here is, as I've discussed before, one of the most abused quotes I've encountered in my churchgoing life. The center part of the verse--that one should not think more highly of himself than he ought to think--gets emphasis over the rest of the verse, in which Paul emphasizes his own humility and notes that everyone has strengths and limitations and the key to wisdom is to be aware of them.

I remember my grandmother (may God rest her soul!) admonishing both my mother and me not to start 'putting on airs' or thinking too highly of ourselves--"something's going to happen to put you in your place!" she'd always say. Maybe she was just trying to teach us both something about the dangers of pride, but oftentimes (especially with my mother) she would use it to 'teach her her place'. This is a woman who, when my mother expressed an interest in high school biology and signed up for the class, promptly pulled her out of the class and enrolled her in typing instead. "If you want to learn biology, I'll buy a chicken and you can stay home and cut it up!" she said. Ah, the 1950's...that golden age where women stayed in the kitchen, blacks stayed at the back of the bus, gays stayed in the closet, and anyone at the far right of the bell curve stayed quiet for their own safety...

My mother was never one to 'know her place'. She knew her responsibilities, yes, and she was an outstanding mother to my brothers and me. Not perfect, but nobody is. She pursued her love of science through one of the few avenues open to working-class women when she was younger and earned a nursing degree. She was an excellent nurse for more than 20 years, when workplace injuries took their toll and she had to leave the profession she loved. So what did she do? She sold insurance, stepping cold into a profession that was in the 1980's dominated by men and consistently led her office in policy sales. I remember visiting that office. It made the set of Mad Men look positively feminist in its outlook! She dealt with a lot, and came out on top. But she was never one to brag. Maybe that was because of my grandmother. So I'll do the bragging for her here.

My parents both came from humble backgrounds and both became very respected individuals in their professions. They had nothing handed to them; they worked their asses off. And it showed. My brother as well started with nothing and has done very, very well for himself. I am proud of my family!

And maybe that rubbed off on me too. It seems to be a family trait, fighting our way up from the bottom. That makes me proud, too.

Unlike my parents and my brother, I nerfed myself starting out. I started college in 1987 and through a combination of mismanaged relationships and involvement with an extremely fundamentalist church, lost focus. I interpreted Romans 12:3 (as so many people do) as meaning not to take any pride in myself or my accomplishments. Some people actually go to the opposite extreme and either take pride in their failures or refuse to even try anything at all. 'Know your place!' This isn't what Paul was saying, and it's not what Scripture ever intended. Paul also admonished slaves (which for his time was the majority of what we would call the blue-collar workforce today) to get their freedom if they had a chance. And it certainly isn't what Christ meant to communicate. He said "I came that you may have life and that abundantly," not "I came that you may beat yourself into the ground with false guilt."

I ended up leaving college not with the degree I wanted, but with the only one I could earn a reasonable GPA in within four years. But I didn't quit. After a year or two of working dead-end jobs, I found something I enjoyed that I could do with that degree. And a little bit later I found a job that not only took advantage of that skill set, but allowed me the opportunity to pursue my first love in the sciences once again. Granted, it was from a different direction than I had anticipated--public health had never really entered my radar screen as an undergraduate--but it was one that has been immensely satisfying to me and has allowed me to do some good in the world.

From the moment I stepped off the podium with my BA on June 15, 1991, I was plotting my return to the sciences. I tried to launch a second bachelor's degree in chemistry, but that proved to be untenable. So I took what I had and parlayed it into alternate opportunities--first a job handling radioactive waste, then a number of tutoring jobs after hours when I ended up in retail sales, and finally as a lab technician at a state university campus. That job would have been satisfying to me in 1993, but it was not to be. The position was cut due to budget cutbacks, and I found myself looking for something else.

So I took my history degree, responded to an ad on my then-girlfriend's dorm bulletin board, and three months later I was a paralegal. I had the further good fortune to end up working with some of the elite operators in San Diego's legal community at the time, who provided me with backup when one employer stiffed me on my wages as well as some very nice letters of reference which led to the job I have today.

That job led me back to the sciences. Even starting out as a file clerk the extra college courses in chemistry and math were useful around the office, and I quickly learned about the field of quality assurance. Intrigued, I took a few courses at the local community college and decided QA was what I was looking for all along.

It would be nice to say that I went from there and got my Masters degree straight out, but it didn't happen that way. A broken engagement followed by a serious car accident slowed my plans down considerably. By the time I was able to get back in the game, I met someone who was very skeptical of my plans at first but has since become my greatest champion, without whom I could accomplish nothing.

I managed to talk her around to restarting my Masters degree again. It wasn't easy, and I know she's been frustrated a lot of the time by the demands it has made on me, but we're almost there! Along the way we've adopted two very special children. Parenthood takes its toll on anyone, but parenting special-needs kids is a challenge in a class by itself.

To top that off, just before I was ready to finish the first draft of my thesis I had a severe concussion that disrupted my research. Sandy's mom got very ill; my father passed away suddenly; then Sandy's mom passed away shortly afterward; and then my mother moved away to live with my brother because she couldn't live on her own.

There were times I lost hope. That I was ready to quit because it seemed as though the universe itself was acting against me. My grandmother was right: something had happened to put me down to size. Tall Poppy Syndrome was in action. But then I remembered something else I once read: fate is what happens when you don't fight for your destiny! My father kept his eyes on the prize the whole time he was getting shot at in the jungles of Southeast Asia; what has happened to me that could possibly compare to that?

I have my father's Bible in a display case at home, turned to a very weather-worn page showing Psalm 23. The cover is also worn where he held it for long periods of time. A librarian friend of mine tells me I could probably get the cover restored, but I won't. Just the condition of that one page and the cover tells me volumes about what he was experiencing. His faith got him through something much, much worse than I am ever likely to experience. Was mine insufficient when faced with, what is in the end, the usual challenges of life?

That was what Paul was talking about in Romans 12:3! He was talking about not becoming full of yourself, not denying yourself confidence in your abilities. Paul himself could list some exhaustive credentials. So can I: check out my LinkedIn page sometime. What he's saying is that God gives us all gifts, and not to regard our gifts as better than anyone else's.

Another friend of mine who is not shy about her own abilities (or quite frankly about showing up the incompetence of others) paid me a very high compliment when she said I should just embrace what I've done and stop putting myself down. Others have said that too, but sometimes you have to be in a place in life where you finally listen.

That place was the past three months for me. Taking advantage of available funds for training at work, I earned a Six Sigma Green Belt certification. It's not an easy test, and because of accounting restrictions I could not give myself as much time as I wanted to prepare. I had to prep for this very tough exam in less than two months, while squeezing in the rest of life. For the first time I was afraid of failing.

Well, I didn't...

I passed the test. Under more difficult circumstances than I would have imagined. Maybe my friend was right. Maybe I am that good after all!

So now it's time to start owning it. And more to the point, to start proving it. My father sadly is no longer around to see me finish my thesis. But my mother is, and I want to give her that. And then I want to move on to the bigger goals. Not because I'm better than anyone else, but because I am exactly as good as I am. No more, and certainly no less.

After all, it ain't bragging if you can do it.

Koyaanisqatsi

"For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die;
A time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal;
A time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh;
A time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
A time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to seek and a time to lose;
A time to keep, and a time to cast away;
A time to tear, and a time to sew;
A time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate;
A time for war, and a time for peace."
--Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 (ESV)

I've been pretty silent online over the past couple of weeks, only commenting here and there on things and keeping up with certain obligations. Partly that was due to a major certification test I had last Saturday, but mostly because my life had gotten out of balance.

I spent a lot of time online, far more than is really healthy. While I value my online friendships deeply, at the end of the day it's the friends and family I have in meatspace who matter most. I see that I was using my online activity to escape my own grief that I've been feeling over the past six months. I've lost my father, my mother-in-law, my favorite aunt, and I may not have my mother much longer either. Almost all of the senior generation of my family is gone in the space of a year. My response has mostly been to keep a stiff upper-lip and carry on, because my family needed me. Sandy's losing her mom was particularly devastating for her, and the children have no frame of reference at all. Neither did I at Alex's age when I lost my brother John. I'm still dealing with that 37 years later, and my kids have lost so much more in so short a time.

Some people go to alcohol or drugs to escape reality. I went to the Net. And I buried myself there in that semi-reality state. Social media is a great tool to get in touch with people--I've met nearly my entire high school graduating class via Facebook or LinkedIn, and several people from college and fandom as well. But it's a very poor tool for interacting with people.

Only about 10% of our communication is verbal. The rest is all non-verbal: facial expressions, tone of voice, posture, spacing, etc. Online we lose all of the non-verbal communication that makes human interaction so rich for most of us. Most people recognize that and are able to take it into account.

For me the situation is different. I do not have the same ability to read social cues as other people. I can fake it for a while but it is an act, and an imperfect one at that. Putting me online is like putting a fish in water: those factors that are a hindrance to me in the real world don't exist there. So for me it's very very easy for the line to become blurred. And that's exactly what happened about two weeks ago.

I violated the trust of someone who is more dear to me than almost anyone else. It was well-intentioned, but if the road to Hell is paved with good intentions then I'm in charge of the Infernal Highway Department. The point is that I treated my online interactions with a good deal more intimacy and confidence than was really appropriate at the moment. For that I apologize. I saw the need to step back and reassess matters.

The title of this post comes from a 1982 film by the same name. It's a Hopi word meaning 'life out of balance' or 'a state of life that calls for another way of living'. I was first exposed to the film in college but at the time I didn't have the life experience to truly understand what the filmmaker was communicating. I mostly fell in love with Philip Glass' outstanding soundtrack. About a month ago I found the movie free on demand through my cable company and watched it two nights in a row. It's not for everyone's tastes, but it does make you think.

One sequence in particular sticks out for me: a series of pictures of large cities from space, compared to pictures of printed circuit boards. Unfortunately I can't find a legal clip of that sequence to attach here, but here's a link to a similar sequence by another artist that gets the point across:

If cities are microchips, then we're all just electrons completing the circuit. It's interesting to note that space allocation on a circuit board is often referred to as 'real estate'. Unfortunately the Net makes that even more true than it was in 1982. Life out of balance, indeed.

When you start thinking of people as electrons, it's easy to dismiss their feelings. Electrons are defined as probability functions--we can only determine where one is likely to be at any given time due to  Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle. In a sense that's true of the people we meet online: can we really be sure of who or where they are, or even if they exist? Is what they tell us true?

Relationships online are built entirely on trust, which is what makes them so vulnerable. And I violated that trust. I let my perspective get out of balance.

So I spent a lot of time offline these past couple of weeks refocusing. I played with my kids, and my new puppy. I cried a lot, and I talked a lot, and while I'm not 100% back together (and probably won't ever be again) I think I see things more clearly now.

I'm sure my father was talking to me through that movie, delivering a warning. He was a big fan of Native American culture (and actually carried some Native ancestry--as do I--though not enough to really matter for anything beyond family pride). And he was an even bigger fan of living in the real world and keeping things in balance. He always tried to warn me when I was going off the rails.

So while I'm not going offline completely, I am going to place a more firm emphasis on the relationships I have with people I've met in person, either past or present. I have some new friends who have been extraordinarily good to me, and some old friends who have returned to my life after many years. I have a mother whom I will be talking with a lot more, and a brother and sister-in-law who have become closer over the past few years. Most of all, I have a wonderful wife and two great kids who need me in meatspace. Cyber-friends, I'm not abandoning you completely, but you are going to have to take a back seat while I breathe a little and find my balance again.

That said, I'm ending my self-imposed social media blackout today. A time to mourn, and a time to dance...

What's In A Name?

As you may have noticed, my blog has a new name, reflecting my current direction in life. After all, unless I do something so extraordinary that the state of Kentucky confers its highest honor upon me, I will probably never be a colonel (at least, outside of a cosplay or fandom context). And except for changing planes in Louisville once, I have never had any association with that great state, so it's unlikely to happen.

I can, however, be a professor. As of this fall, if all goes well, I will be. Concurrent with my Masters degree I am completing a Community College Teaching Certificate. I have been approved for a teaching internship and have only to be placed with a local community college and teach one course under supervision. Achievement unlocked!

It was always my goal to teach, and eventually I do want to teach at the college level full-time. In about 10 years I will be eligible to retire from my current employment. The economy being what it is, I don't want to be dependent upon my retirement benefits alone. So, I will take a page from my father's book and move on to something that I know I will enjoy and which will allow me to have a comfortable existence in my closer-than-I-would-like-to-admit old age.

Part of the application process is to get letters of recommendation from previous faculty. I always feel nervous about asking. I've asked three of my instructors and have gotten one positive response (I'm not sure of the others said no or just haven't seen the message yet). I don't like asking anyone for anything--I try not to impose upon others and when I do ask I feel embarrassed forever afterward. And yet to get to where I want to go, I need to ask, and keep asking.

So now among my many other plans this summer, it looks like I will be drawing up a lesson plan for whatever class I intend to teach (I'd like to teach basic statistics but there are any number of business classes I could teach as well).

And more to the point, I need to take the advice of a coworker of mine many years ago: in order to be accepted in a role, you have to put yourself out there in that role. Which is what I'm doing right now. I'm taking a minor step leading towards many more significant steps in the relatively near future.

Wish me luck! I'm going to need it!

Romancing Hypatia

Hypatia of Alexandria is one of the more intriguing figures of history. Very few women in antiquity have had their voices carry forward to us in the 21st century CE but of those she was probably the most 'modern' in outlook. She was an independent and very powerful thinker, a standard very few people of either gender could reach either then or now. It's exactly what got her into trouble, too.

Hypatia was killed, and the library of Alexandria (or what was left of it after six previous burnings) was burned for the last time, by a group of fanatics who were intimidated by her scholarship. Christian scholars accused her for centuries of paganism and witchcraft; secularists hold her up as a model of free thought against an oppressive church. The truth is probably somewhere in the middle. She had both Christian and pagan students in her academy, and was an advisor to the Christian governor of Alexandria. The local bishop, jealous of her influence, stirred up a known troublemaker to get rid of someone he saw as a political threat. It's not that different from what happens today, except murder, arson, and probable sexual assault (usually) don't play into the picture.

At the risk of being overly sentimental, Hypatia has always been the personification of the sciences to me. Science is a thing of beauty, demanding of one's time and resources to get the best possible return. And for me personally, like Hypatia herself science has been notoriously unapproachable.

That liability was exposed when I took my first real science classes in college and found out that I needed serious math to go forward. I probably could have done better if I had remained focused and not lost sight of my goal. Hanging out with Fundamentalists and pursuing a woman who was probably about as receptive as Hypatia herself would have been to my attention didn't help my cause. Everyone would have been happier had I stayed the course: the woman I was chasing would have had some peace; the Fundamentalists would have found themselves a more tractable recruit; and I would have a physics degree. I realized my mistake, but too late to correct in time to get a science degree. So I settled for a degree in history and made a promise to myself that I would find a way to get back to my metaphorical true love.

24 years later...

I'm now on the verge of a return, thanks in no small part to my actual true love, Sandy, who met me along the way and has been very patient these past few years with my angst and the time I've spent finding my way back. I've never lost touch with the sciences, being an amateur astronomer in my spare time and courtesy of some professional certifications a quality engineer by profession. I also managed to pick up enough science units to do a lot of science-related work over the years. But it don't mean a thing unless I have those magic initials after my name.

Now it's time. Three challenges remain ahead of me.

First, I need to finish my Masters thesis. I'm about halfway done with the first draft. The events of the past year slowed me down significantly but I'm ready to get back in the game. I spent the weekend cleaning my office in the garage partly so I could find my notes.

Second, I need to retake the GRE. I took it 20 years ago and my scores were high enough to qualify me for Mensa (which at the time accepted GRE scores as qualifying). But the test has changed significantly since then. Time to review, review, review!

Third, and most daunting, is the subject that killed me in college:

Ordinary differential equations. The Ivan Drago to my Rocky Balboa. I passed the course, but I took a beating doing so and was forced into retirement.

Fortunately I saved my textbook and the student solutions manual, and I had a calculus review a few years ago that I did well on. I even have my old calculus book, which was so novel in the late 1980's that it actually contained 'computer problems'. It may as well be engraved on stone tablets now, but the principles are still sound as they were in the 1600's when Isaac Newton and Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz unleashed them on the world.

So guess what I'm doing this summer? That's right...in between work and taking care of my family, I am going to review, review, review!

And sometime next year, I will finally be on speaking terms with Hypatia again...

A Time To Rise

It was the year of fire... the year of destruction... the year we took back what was ours. It was the year of rebirth... the year of great sadness... the year of pain... and the year of joy. It was a new age. It was the end of history. It was the year everything changed. The year is 2015. The place: my life!!!

Give up???  HELL NO!!!!

My father never, ever tolerated giving up. Even as he was dying he fought to the very end, like the warrior he was all his life. I never got a chance to be that kind of warrior, but I can be one nonetheless.

I feel as though I have absorbed some of his toughness. The day before my father died, a rather clueless coworker who shall remain nameless demanded I send some files to her. Mind you, these weren't particularly mission-critical; they could have waited (especially since it was a weekend!) This coworker brushed off that I had mentioned that my father was dying and I had other things on my mind than meeting minutes. So, I sent the minutes. Not because this individual wanted them, but because I knew that's what my father would have done: completed the mission. I did it for him!

Last year wasn't all tragedy and disappointment. I got to see my son advance in Scouting and my daughter start preschool. Sandy and I celebrated our 10th wedding anniversary (although our renewal of vows didn't take place as planned for obvious reasons). And I made significantly more progress towards my Masters degree. All I have to do is finish my thesis and it's done!

But the big newsmaker started last September. I made the commitment to have bariatric surgery. 12 weeks of orientation and dieting to get down to the optimal weight for surgery ensued. It has not been easy, but on February 11th everything changed. (warning: semi-graphic picture)

I had a vertical sleeve gastrectomy and I have so far lost 65 pounds since last September and 25 pounds since surgery. I go to the gym or work out on my own every day now. In another week I'll start lifting weights again. And by next year I will run the Spartan race!

I am also aiming to have my thesis finally finished this summer, so I can move on to the next phase: getting my doctorate. It will be a tough, long haul, but I will finish the race that I have started, just as I promised my father. I would like to get my Ph.D in Computational and Data Sciences from Chapman University, which is local to me and will accommodate the schedule of a busy professional with two little kids at home. I've spoken to them and my odds are pretty good there, but if that doesn't work I have other options as well.


My assertiveness is paying off as well. Thanks to a longstanding need and to a coming management realignment I will be returning to my old posting in Import Operations, but this time as their quality manager. In naval terms I have moved on from being XO of an aircraft carrier to the captain of an Aegis-class cruiser. There are challenges to be met there, which I am looking forward to greatly! I miss my old comrades and want to do all I can to help them out!

There's still a lot to be done. There are still bills to be paid, a lot of weight yet to lose before I reach my goal, and little people who are growing up way too fast. And Sandy needs my support more than ever before. But now I feel much more empowered to meet all those challenges. Despite all that's happened, things are looking up, and I will rise from the flames!

A Year of Hell

Forgive me father, for I have sinned...it has been 561 days since my last confession...

The past year has been very, very bad. It started with a car accident about a year ago. Fortunately Alex and I were okay, but my vehicle was totalled. I was not looking forward to another car payment, and my streak of nearly 14 years without a car accident was erased. Thankfully the accident was not my fault!

Not too long after that, my mother-in-law was hospitalized. At first we thought she just had a bad cold, but it developed into something far, far worse. She went into the hospital in March, and never left. We lost her just before Christmas. In the meantime, the hospital stay, and trying to settle her affairs at her old home while we attempted to find a new one for her dominated our year--to the exclusion of other things that I now very much regret.

Still, I may have been able to handle that loss (and more importantly help Sandy through it better) had I not had a loss of my own:

Just before Thanksgiving, I lost my father very suddenly to a very severe case of pneumonia. He went from being in tremendously good health for a 74-year-old man to beyond the Rim in a matter of a week. He was my example in all things in life, and I miss him tremendously. It hurts me even to write this, but it must be written.

With my father gone, my mother was left alone. While I would have gladly sacrificed everything to help her, I was reminded by the rest of the family that I still have two very young children to take into consideration. My mother moved shortly after Christmas to live with my brother and his wife in Iowa; their kids are all grown and can provide additional help if needed. I understand the rationale, and we still speak very frequently, but the loss still is there. Christmas 2014 was the last Christmas I will ever celebrate in the home I grew up in. My mother had no choice but to sell.

And all through this there was still life to be lived. There was baseball and Cub Scouts and homework (both mine and the kids!) to take care of, along with the usual pressures of work. The stress took its toll on me unfortunately, and all the progress I had made in the past year towards weight loss was wiped out and then some.

But did I give up? Hell NO!!!! My next post will describe what's happening now.

In the meantime, I am very, very thankful that even as bad as last year was we did have a family reunion last May. Almost all of Clan Condrey was able to attend and as far as I am concerned it was the highlight of the year!

So, folks, that's why I've been so quiet on here in the past year or so. But I need to write, and this is the best place to do it. More coming soon!

Unleashing The Warrior Within

Inside all of us is an ideal person, a being of light and spirit awaiting the actions on our part to be fully realized. Most of us, however, never reach this point. We get potholed by our insecurities, the cares and worries of life, the burdens other people try to impose upon us.

I've carried those burdens too long. I've tried to live up to the expectations of others, only to fall short of my own expectations for myself. I've wasted far too much time trying to play the game, knowing all along that it was rigged in the house's favor.

No more.

I am at the cusp of becoming the man I want to be--the man I need to be. Because someone else has been wearing my skin for a while now, and I'm not putting up with that anymore.

I was reminded tonight during my workout just how much I missed it. I'm up to four sets of eight different exercises, developing all parts of the body. Thursday night I'll attempt to run again. My health is important to me, but more important still is my self-image. I don't like what I've allowed myself to become, so I take on the struggle within.

If I don't lose the weight, I die early. If I don't adjust my attitude and my self-image, I'll die well before the actual funeral. I've seen a lot of people die that way. Worse yet, I've seen people attempt to destroy others that way all too often.

A friend of mine was subjected to that form of cruelty this week. This is a man who has in recent years lost his wife, and is struggling to raise his daughter on his own. He is starting to find himself again after this tragedy, but still needs to vent. We all need to vent, but to have someone else fueled by Internet courage and with no inkling of how much all of us carry inside attempt to shoot him down was sickening to me. I've lost too many people at too young an age (my brother and five close friends dead before I was 25--and four of those were suicides) to wish that upon anyone but damn was the temptation there to wish it on this clown who confused grieving with personal weakness! But I didn't. I want to be the better man.

Much closer to home I see my wife, and how much she struggles from day to day with the kids. I try to help out as much as possible--I am their father, after all, and they need me. Enough said there. I also see how she struggles trying to make things better for the people around her, only to go unacknowledged and unappreciated, even insulted. I take great personal offense to this. I am more than willing to break a few heads on her behalf--I nearly have, on at least two occasions. I would be nowhere near my goals were it not for Sandy, and I want to make sure I give her my all as well.

It is a painful realization that there are still bullies out there in adult life, that some people never grew out of that phase. I've always known this. Much of the impetus for me to become a union steward years ago was a desire to combat such bullies in the workplace. They definitely existed, with about the maturity level one would expect. Thankfully karma has been paid in full measure to all of them now, and in a few cases I was privileged enough to not only watch but play a role.

The workplace, however, is governed by rules, with mechanisms to ensure they are enforced (imperfectly though they may be). Everyday life is a different question. And honestly, I've seen enough douchebags over the past five years to more than stock the local pharmacy. One only missed a civil restraining order because we didn't have the filing fee at the time!

But worst of all are the bullies I carry in my own mind, the ones who fuel self-doubt and hesitation on my part. The ones that whisper in the night: You're a failure. You're not good enough. You're only wanted because no one else was left. You are continually mocked behind your back and will be forgotten as soon you're gone, provided anyone noticed you were there to begin with.

How do you fight a battle against an opponent inside your own mind?

The answer is simple: prove him wrong! Make yourself better, physically, mentally, and spiritually. And that's what I'm doing right now. I may have been knocked down, but I'm getting back up again! Fall down seven times, stand up eight!

Deeper than my conscious thoughts, deeper even than those whispers in the night, is the man God intended me to be. A true warrior, a man of strength, courage, and honor in every arena of life. He may not be the strongest, or the smartest, or necessarily the most virtuous, but he's certainly going to scare the living crap out of anyone counting on the old me to back down.  Especially those voices within!

More later...

Seeing David In The Stone

"Every block of stone has a statue inside it and it is the task of the sculptor to discover it." -- Michaelangelo

I continue my weight training, interspersed with my walking regimen. Tonight I added French curls (an exercise I've always found difficult) to the mix. An extra exercise meant fewer reps, however. I need to get used to this.

It's my hope to find the statue that is the ideal me beneath all of the sloppiness that's accumulated over the years. I don't just mean physical sloppiness. I mean mental and moral sloppiness as well.

I am currently involved in the Federal Executive Board Leadership Associates Program, an intensive year-long series of activities intended to develop mid-level government employees myself into executive material. As I intend to be around for a while, I'd like to get as far as possible. The current class has only been running since June, but already I've gotten a lot out of it. Part of my current interest in working out, for example, is a side project to encourage greater physical fitness among federal employees. Another employee at my agency started a team, and being the competitive person I am, I decided to join.

This is one way my competitive nature is helping me. I can see also where it has hurt me, and hurt others, badly. It is a double-edged sword for sure!

Back to the leadership program. This week we had a course in conflict management. Using the assessmetn tool, I discovered that I have a lot of work to do. I have a tendency to want to try and win arguments, even if there's no point in doing so beyond being able to say I'm right. For certain lines of work, this is a good thing. In every day life, this is a very bad thing. I have alienated who knows how many people because of it. I'm not proud of this. I am sure that there are more than a few people who can attest to this. If you're out there and reading this, please accept my apologies, know that I see the problem, and that I'm working on it.

It is such a relief to let go of conflicts, and to recognize troll bait when I see it! No longer am I bound by that invisible hand that seemed to force me to constantly be on the lookout for the epistemological knife fights I so often find myself involved in! My karate instructor back in the distant past always told me that the best move in a fight is to turn around and walk away. If only I'd applied that wisdom to the pseudo-intellectual posturing I see around me--and not get sucked into it myself--I'm sure I would have been much happier overall!

It's more than winning arguments, though. It's wanting to win at life, with 'winning' poorly defined. In college it wasn't enough just to have good grades, I had to have a girlfriend too. And by 'have' I mean 'be the only thing going on for her'. I don't think I was as big a douchebag as that statement implies (there are at least two women out there who could confirm this--or not) but I can see where a lot of my behavior wasn't what it should have been, or even anywhere close. And for that, I am truly sorry. To any male between the ages of 17 and 22 reading this (including my son in about 10 years): I've seen some of you do the same crap. You cannot simultaneously put a woman on a pedestal and chain her like a slave. In fact, you shouldn't do either one. Make and keep a friend--an equal partner--and what you want is more likely to show up on its own. Not guaranteed (nothing is!) but more likely. And that is Uncle Steve's Pearl of Wisdom for the night. :-)

This desire to be ahead of the game at all costs isn't all bad--academically it's been a tremendous asset, and my career hasn't suffered either (although I will emphasize that to my knowledge I've never stabbed anyone in the back on the way up). But when wed to faulty assumptions it is yet another layer of stone that must be removed to get to the ideal form beneath.

Why am I competing? What is there to be gained? How will my competitive nature help or hurt others? What will it do to myself in long run? I need to start answering these questions more consistently.

Because while I'm cutting through the physical flab to reach the ideal person inside, I also need to cut through the mental and moral flab to reach  what that person should be like. And I cannot do that unless I'm honest with myself. "Let him that would move the world first move himself."

Time to put away the past. The other thing the assessment tool told me was that I tend to dwell on problems too much. The problem's solved--I'm not who I used to be, and cannot change what that person did. I can only hope for forgiveness, and do what I can to improve. And that's the real competition: the one within!

The Long Hot Summer

I've been away for a while, I know. But I'm back to stay!

Since ending the medically supervised portion of the weight loss program, just about everything that could go wrong, has gone wrong. I've faced a number of personal and professional challenges these past few months that have caused me to revert to old habits.

First to go was the exercise. After my last long run of 2.8 miles I stopped for some reason. It got too easy to rationalize not running again--too tired/too hot/too much to do/too many other excuses to count.

Next to go was diet discipline. Back in June my mother was hospitalized for several days (thankfully, she's doing better now). I fell back into my old habit of stress eating. A number of other events happened at home and at work to compound the stress. On top of that, I had chosen this summer to take three classes instead of two to knock a year off my Masters degree. Two of my classes involved heavy math and were taught by instructors whose notes were minimal at best (one class didn't even have an official textbook!) Between the rigor of the courses themselves and losing time while Mom was in the hospital, I spent most of the summer term catching up. I managed A's in two of the courses and a B in the third...but getting there was much, much harder than I anticipated. And a lot of stress eating was involved.

I accept that there's stress in life. That's an inherent part of existence. Someone whose life is completely stress free is either not truly living or completely oblivious to his or her situation. As with so many other things, however, it all hit at once. My faith has been challenged and restored repeatedly over the past three months. My sanity? Sometimes I wonder.

But no more. With but one exception (which I can do nothing about but wait) most of the stressors have been resolved. Now it's time to focus on building myself back to the person I know I can be. I started that in earnest tonight.

With Sandy absent much of the evening, a run was out of the question. So I went to my old standby: the weight bench. Weightlifting has always been special to me: it's one athletic activity I've been able to remain reasonably competent at, even excel. For two years during my undergraduate years I took gym classes every quarter to build exercise into my routine (as if working as a cook and a janitor, and walking nearly everywhere, wasn't enough!)  The weight training was something I'd started in high school but it took off in college. If I'd kept up with it, who knows where I'd be now?

Of course, I'm not powerlifting like I was 20 years ago: my right shoulder and my back reminded me tonight that I'm 44, not 22 even with the relatively light workout (low weight/high reps) I took on:

3 sets/25 reps each:
Bench press at 25 lbs
Military press at 25 pounds
Curls at 25 pounds
Dead lift at 25 pounds

The objective of low weight/high reps is to develop muscle tone and endurance as opposed to instantaneous power. It's also (contrary to popular belief) one hell of a good cardiovascular workout: think calisthenics with a positive load applied to every part of the body. I also attempted knee extensions but the weight bench I have isn't made very well for that. I may settle for running/cycling to develop my legs. I can get new running shoes much cheaper than a new weight bench, and I need new shoes anyway.

It felt good! Just the act of putting on my old lifting gloves caused a bit of a surge in me, as though I were Arthur pulling Excalibur from the stone. I still feel a little tight even after my shower, and probably will feel much tighter tomorrow...but that's a good thing. Muscles need to be challenged in order to develop. Tomorrow I'll run again, then Wednesday night (Sandy's bowling night) I'll hit the weights after the kids are in bed.

Why am I suddenly back in the saddle again? Two reasons. One I'll explain in more detail tomorrow night. The other? Let's just say that it's better to be in control of one's circumstances rather than the other way around. There are relatively few things I can change in my life as it is, but that's no excuse not to address the things I can. And my health--and general well-being--is one of those things.

Week 15: The End Of The Beginning

"Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning." -- Winston Churchill, November 10, 1942

Last week's number: 306.4 pounds
This week's number: 300.7 pounds
Week-to-week loss: 5.7 pounds
Net loss: 49.3 pounds

In other words, I'm not done yet...

This was my last formal weigh-in under the medically-supervised very low calorie diet. I will now be transitioning slowly back to normal food. By normal food I mean the food people are supposed to eat, as opposed to what I've been eating most of my adult life.

This has not been easy by any stretch of the imagination. I struggled. I didn't stick with the plan. I could have exercised a lot more than I did. Even so, of the 30 people who started this diet back in January, only nine made it to the end, and of those nine I lost the most weight in the group.

The quote by Churchill above is appropriate here in more ways than one: I, too, have been engaged in a mortal struggle for my very survival against an inexorable and seemingly unstoppable foe. It has cost me dearly: my way of life has had to change, and certainly this program has not been cheap. It is, however, cheaper than a coffin (both literally and metaphorically).

Still, I am a long way from where I want to be. 50 pounds (more or less) down, another 75 (at least) to go.

That said, I am proud to have incorporated more exercise into my life. Today I walked the farthest in one day that I have in 15 years. This morning I walked my son to school, and then took the long way back, for a total of 2.1 miles. In the afternoon I walked to the school (the long way) and at my son's request took the long way back (during which we had a very involved conversation about surveyor's marks on the pavement, how to dig up a sidewalk, how much sidewalk slabs weigh, etc.) for a total of 3.04 miles. Total distance: 5.14 miles! Now I just need to get to where I can run that far...November is getting closer every day! And that's just the first race I want to run!

I want to start incorporating some strength training into my routine as well. I don't necessarily need to get ripped, but I do need more muscle tone and upper body strength. Next week, the weight bench will be deployed and put to use! I've been frustrated with not having enough room in the garage to set it up properly; the simple expedient of pulling it out into the driveway will solve that problem with minimal effort (particularly with summer close at hand--bad weather will not be an excuse for the next several months!) I should have started doing this weeks ago. Oh, well. The future begins now!

Sex And The Single Civil Servant (Part 1)

I knew that title would get some attention!

There's an old joke somewhere about how things which seem miserable at the time actually turn out to be pretty good, but I can't remember it right now. An online conversation not long ago with a female friend of mine who was lamenting her dating situation brought this to mind.

It's not easy for geeks in general (and people like me in particular) to date. You first have to get past the initial intimidation that social encounters present. Then you have to find someone with whom your interests more or less align. Then you have to worry about presenting yourself the right way. And then you have to worry about whether or not the interest is reciprocated.

Not much different than dating in general, you say? For ASD folks like me it's about like trying to read while blindfolded. There have been so many situations where I either failed to read very obvious signals that she was interested or (more often) very obvious signals that Things Were Not Going Well that I generally regarded my single life as pretty miserable.

Note the use of the past tense.

In retrospect, things weren't all that bad. From age 18 to age 35 (when I got married) I dated a total of 11 people. That may not seem like a lot, but keep in mind that I generally only dated one person at a time, for a long time (most relationships, when I had them, lasted a year or more). Out of that group, I am still in touch with seven of them, and on good terms.*

Overall, that's not bad. Especially when one considers that three of the remaining four all were in the space of three years (1996-1999 were not fun by any stretch!) and had issues ranging from social climbing to mental illness mistaken for religious mania. In other words, I learned really quickly how to identify and avoid the toxic people in the only way a guy like me can--baptism by fire! 

But like the refiner's fire in the old hymn, a lot of the dross got burned away. I'd like to think I became a better partner as a result. Maybe not perfect--hell, I know I'm not!--but certainly vastly improved.

I like to think that everyone gets what they deserve in life. Of the seven ladies I mentioned above, two have since gotten married to a couple of very lucky men; one decided she was happier single; one came out (and seems to be much happier for it); and two are still looking but will some day make someone very happy.

Regrets? Absolutely none. I have Sandy now. And while she may not understand me or what I do sometimes, she has always had my back and helped me be where my feet are when necessary. And if you can't get that from a partner, you don't have a partner at all!

Single friends, take heart--the world is full of many winding paths, and not all of them lead to the socially-approved destination. But who are other people to tell you what to do anyway?  Sometimes you have to make your own happy ending.

That's what I'm doing--because the game isn't over yet!

* Of the remaining four, one is lost to the sands of time, and had some demons of her own to confront. One was someone who only wanted me to carry her through school and do her homework, then was done with me. One was R.C., whom I wrote about back on Valentines Day this year. And one was seriously dangerous--she was mentally ill, which she interpreted as religious mania (she was, like many of the women I knew in the 1990's, a Charismatic who saw demonic influences behind every rock and tree). She was also extremely jealous and deceitful--after three months of her, my bank account was empty, my long-distance service had been changed several times, and several valued possessions had been damaged or destroyed. To this day she is the One Whose Name I Do Not Mention, and one of only two individuals I've ever considered filing a restraining order against.

Week 14: Excuses vs. Explanations

Last week's number: 304.3 pounds
This week's number: 306.4 pounds
Week-to-week loss: -2.1 pounds
Net loss: 43.6 pounds

I am rather alarmed by this figure. This is two consecutive weeks that I've gained, so I'm stepping things up even more this week. Some of this gain is due to a loss of discipline on my part, and some is due to a change in medication. I have been taking a diuretic to regulate my blood pressure, and upon the advice of the doctor monitoring the program I discontinued it briefly to see how I would respond. Obviously I still need the medication, as not only did my weight go up, so did my blood pressure. All the weight I've been carrying has indeed taken its toll.

Some might consider this just an excuse for poor performance. There is a fine distinction between an excuse and an explanation that most people seem to forget. An excuse is exactly that: a reason not to continue. An explanation seeks to understand why the change took place, and find ways to reverse or mitigate it.

Lots of people have excuses. Very few people have, or want, explanations.

Since this weigh-in I've been much more diligent about my diet and exercise, and I've resumed taking the medication. It seems to have worked. As of this morning, using the home scale (which will be the only scale I have after next week) I checked in at 295.8 pounds--my lowest weight in nearly a decade, and within ten pounds of my halfway point! Shedding the excess fluid helped!

Next week will be my final weigh-in with the program, although I will continue using the low-calorie foods until I wean myself off of them. Both Sandy and I are dedicated to making better health choices, even though she was unable to complete the program I'm on because of recent events. Less fried food and fast food, more vegetables and fruits. The juicer is about to get a workout!

Speaking of which, I need to start working out even harder. Now that I can feel more muscle than fat in my abdomen, I also feel the need to tighten that muscle up. That race in November is getting closer every day...

Week 13: No Instant Pudding

"There is no instant pudding." -- W. Edwards Deming

Last week's number: 303.0 pounds
This week's number: 304.3 pounds
Week-to-week loss: -1.3 pounds
Net loss: 45.7 pounds

The above quote is not merely just a wise choice when trying to lose weight. It's something to keep in mind when implementing any kind of improvement scheme. Nothing happens immediately; it takes effort and persistence.

The past few weeks have not been my greatest. I've been under a lot of pressure and, as I mentioned before, I tend to eat to resolve stress. With most of the stress off of me now (finals are over--successfully as far as I know--and my mother-in-law has transportation, and therefore independence, again) I can focus on getting back on track.

The last time I had a gain on this program it really upset me; this time I'm handling it a little better knowing that my body is bound to plateau at some point and a pound or two is natural variation for any human being over the course of a week. I didn't notice it before because my weight was so high that I attributed the difference to error in the scale. Now that I'm more conscious of it I'm paying more attention.

It's important in any diet not to weigh yourself too often, or these daily or weekly fluctuations will influence your attitude. In statistics, and in quality assurance in particular, this is reflected in two different ways:

Type 1 error: thinking something is bad when it's really not. The classic example is that of a jury convicting an innocent man. Usually it refers to rejecting a perfectly good product as defective. In this case, it's thinking you're not losing weight when, over the long haul, you really are.

Type 2 error: thinking something is good when really it's not. For example, a jury acquitting a man who should have been found guilty, or accepting a defective product. In this case, it's thinking you're losing weight when you're really not.

My weight fluctuation is less than one-third of one percent of my total weight, which in any statistical or engineering context would be considered background noise. The fact that I basically broke even in a week when my dietary discipline was far from what it should have been is itself a good sign. While I didn't stick strictly to the diet, neither did I go overboard. This is a good sign for the future.

But it's not good enough for what I hope to accomplish. I need to keep the pressure up and get the exercise routine going full force again. And I need to develop the habits I'll have for the rest of my life once this diet is over. I do not want to get back to the way I was, ever. I want to be the best I can be for my age and given the constraints I need to work around. The key to that, however, is actually working around them.

On to the next week!

Week 12: Now The Truth Can Be Told

 

Last weigh-in: 307.6 pounds

This week's number: 303.0 pounds 

Week-to-week loss: 4.6 pounds (over 2 weeks) 

Net loss: 46.8 pounds 

 As I said a couple of posts ago, it's not been an easy two weeks for me with everything that's happened. That doesn't mean I'm stopping! I still want to reach my goals, and I'm intending to stick with a better diet once I start the transition phase as of next week. Even tonight, after I finish this post and get some studying done, I'm going on another run. It's more than getting in shape, or wanting to be as much of an athlete as I can be in my 40's, or looking good in costume (or, for that matter, my old uniforms, or even regular business attire). Much more. 

 I've shared this little revelation with my family, so now I feel comfortable sharing it here. My bloodwork starting out this little odyssey was not good. Not in the least. I was borderline diabetic and, even more ominously, looking at kidney failure probably even before the diabetes kicked in. Drastic action needed to be taken. Forget reaching my dreams--I want to live to see my children grow up! 

Some people have been shocked when I've told them about the particulars of this diet. To be true, 800 calories a day isn't much--it's what most people in North Korea are getting if they're lucky. It's bare subsistence. Some people have called me crazy, or have questioned the wisdom of this approach when something else worked for them just as well. This was needed, and I am doing everything under the supervision of a physician using products specially formulated for such a plan. Do NOT attempt a very low-calorie diet without consulting with your physician, or without appropriate medical monitoring!

For the better part of 20 years I've been carrying far more weight than is healthy for any human being. I tried to shrug it off, thinking that things weren't all that bad because I could still do most of the things that I do on a regular basis. Then I got married. Then I had kids. And suddenly all of the things I did routinely on the job got a lot harder. My back went out more often and took longer to recover. Where I could de-van an entire cargo container almost single-handedly, suddenly even the most routine exams became physically taxing (not that I didn't do my job--I pushed myself, and made myself sick, and lost a lot of productive time at work and at home as a result). I stopped using my telescope because it took too much effort to set up (and it is some effort--the instrument weighs 135 pounds fully assembled and all of those parts need to be carried to where I want to go). Slowly but surely I was losing my way of life, even though I didn't notice it at the time. 

And then the bloodwork came back. I was angry that I let myself fall that far. I was scared for my health and for the future of my family. But more than that, I was pissed off! 

"Be angry, yet do not sin," the Bible says (Ephesians 4:26). I had a lot of trouble with that one. In the past I have let my anger get the better of me and have said and done some unspeakable things as a result. I thought the answer was to suppress my anger, to not let it out at all lest someone get hurt. In the past year the wisdom of that statement finally came clear to me. 

(Yes, maybe I was slow on the uptake here. I've already explained here that common sense for me doesn't necessarily mean the same thing as it may mean for everyone else. God apportions strengths and weaknesses to all human beings in equal proportion--so be it.)

I am to take my anger and turn it toward something productive! If I am angry about my situation, I am to use the energy I would otherwise expend in a futile explosion of emotion and instead turn it toward actually resolving the issue that made me angry to begin with! Angry about finances? Make a plan to get them under control! Angry about not making progress toward your life goals? Make the commitment--and don't question the sacrifice. Angry about your weight? Get with your doctor and make a plan to lose the weight! 

 My anger comes out on the road, with the weights, climbing the stairs. My anger burns--burns away this weight which has been such a tremendous physical and emotional burden to me for so long. I've had people laugh at me as I'm running. No matter; I'm not doing it for their general convenience. I'm reminded of all the people who laughed at me about my weight, and I push forward, determined to push those voices deep into my past where they may be heard but won't have any impact. Some people would sink into despair and give up. I. Will. Not!!! 

I want to be a better man than I've been, in all respects. That's why I'm fighting so hard. The person inside of me, the person I know I can be, wants to come out and introduce himself to the world. And he will, before long. All it takes is a little blood, a little sweat, and a little tears, applied over time. Let's make it happen!

Intermission: Musical Mix and Match

This is a little game I invented while I was stuck on the freeway back in 2006 (in other words, pretty much all of 2006). How it works: use the names of bands active between 1950 and the present day, and match them up in interesting ways. Just one commute gave me the following. Mind you, almost all of these performers have charted at least once, and have at least three album releases:

One From Column A	One From Column B
RATT	Poison
Assassin	Dead Kennedys
Genesis	Revelation
DEVO	Evolution
Billy Idol	Stone Temple Pilots
Meat Loaf	Wavy Gravy
The B-52's	Napalm Death
Queen	Prince
Paul Revere and the Raiders	Boston
KISS	The Flaming Lips
REM	Dream Academy
Pink Floyd	The Moody Blues
The Black Eyed Peas	Korn
The Originals	The Replacements
Styx	The Rolling Stones
Adam and the Ants	Black Flag
B5	Night Ranger
MC Hammer	Nine Inch Nails
Revolver	The Automatic
Simple Minds	No Doubt
The Vandals	The Village People
The Beach Boys	The Commodores
Orbital	The Georgia Satellites
Deep Purple	The Indigo Girls
Natalie Merchant	The Communards
Hiroshima	Megadeth
The Police	Firehouse
Eagles	Wings
Dire Straits	Millionaires
Three Dog Night	Cat Stevens
Jefferson Airplane	Grand Funk Railroad
The Cars	Traffic
The Monkees	Bananarama
The Beatles	Eddie Rabbit
The Dwarves	They Might Be Giants

Just one of the things my mind does when it gets bored...

Coming Up For Air

It has been a wild, wild, wild two weeks!

The amount of stress and the situations that have cropped up in the past two weeks has just been utterly insane.  It started the evening of the 14th, when my car (a two-door coupe) started doing a credible impersonation of a Soviet T-72 main battle tank. The following morning, I took it to a mechanic to learn that the timing chain had jumped due to a bolt that had sheared off flush to the engine block. The Ides of March: a bad day to be a Roman dictator, a 2003 Pontiac, or my bank account.

Four days and several hundred dollars later, the car was fixed. Unfortunately it was not fixed in time for me to go to my weigh-in that week, so I have no idea where I stand (although I have been keeping up with my walking and have had a couple of good walks in the 1.5 to 2-mile range). In the midst of this I had the second midterm for my Project Management class, a class that is proving to be the Ivan Drago to my Rocky Balboa: I may win but there's a good chance that my brain will be damaged as a result. I rushed to get as much homework done as possible before the trip Sandy and I had planned last weekend: a semiannual bowling tournament in Las Vegas.  We'd really been looking forward to this trip as a chance to get away from the routine for a while and reconnect.

Unfortunately my mother-in-law ended up in a very bad car accident on the way up here to watch the kids. Her car was completely totaled, although she made it out with only a black eye, a twisted ankle, and some rattled nerves. Sandy went on to Vegas without me so at least she could get away while someone kept a watch on her mother to make sure she was okay.

Stress? Did someone say stress?

I'm a bit worried because I have noticed that I eat in response to stress and while I haven't eaten a lot, I have been less than faithful to my diet. I am trying to get back on track, though, for the weigh-in next week. But in the meantime I have been reminded that there are more important things to worry about. Much more important things.

I've come to view events such as this as God's way of shaking us out of our self-absorption. We get bound up in our own activities and our own lives and sometimes don't think of the people around us who may be hurting. Sometimes it has to be brought close to home. I am thankful that we're in a position to help my mother-in-law to a certain extent. I remember a time not so long ago when we wouldn't have been anywhere near such a position, and count my blessings every morning that those days are farther behind us with every sunrise.

So no, I haven't weighed in. And no, I haven't been as faithful on my diet as I should have been (although I've hardly gorged the way I did in the old days, either). But tomorrow is another day.

Attention Science Geeks!

Habemus Papam! Pope Francis I is one of us!!!! According to his official biography, the new Pope holds a Masters degree in chemistry.  He's probably the first trained scientist in the modern sense of the word to become Pope.

And this isn't some bogus 'intelligent design' or 'creation science' degree earned in a basement Bible college, either.  His MS was awarded by the University of Buenos Aires, which is basically the MIT of Latin America and one of the top-ranked universities in the world.  Yes, the Pope is a science nerd with real cred!

This gives me hope for the future with regard to the religion-science debate.  For the first time in modern history a major religious leader has a strong science background, although the Catholic Church learned its lesson from Galileo long ago.  Despite what is usually taught to high school seniors and undergraduates, Galileo's major works had all been removed from the Holy Index by 1800--the first time an experiment could be conducted that conclusively proved the movement of the Earth. Galileo himself would have been rehabilitated much earlier were it not for intervening political events that preoccupied previous Popes. Pius XII was close to doing so but didn't want to risk a church split with World War II at hand.  Today Galileo's statue stands in the Vatican as a reminder of a painful lesson learned.

Of course, the Jesuits (to which Francis belonged before becoming Pope) have always been big on science and are at least partly responsible for the strong academic foundation that Catholic educational institutions have become legendary for.  It was the Jesuit order, in fact, that verified Galileo's claims.  Galileo's persecution had more to do with karma coming home to roost (Galileo was very good at making enemies!)  than with his specific assertions.  It's because of the Jesuit influence that the Catholic Church didn't repeat the mistake it made before with regard to evolution (which for the most part is taught without controversy in Catholic institutions).

I'm not Catholic, so I really don't have a dog in this fight, but Pope Francis is fairly conservative on a lot of issues (homosexuality, birth control) so he's not going to be all things to all people.  But his scientific background, combined with his established track record in addressing the needs of the poor I think bodes well for the future. Added (read: much needed) bonus:  he's come out in the past very strongly against child abuse and no doubt will kick some priestly ass with regard to the sexual abuse scandals that have come out in recent years.  Personally, I think he should restart the Inquisition in full Torquemada mode for that one.

Week 9: Setback? What Setback???

Last week's number: 306.1 pounds
This week's number: 307.4 pounds
Week-to-week loss: -1.3 pounds
Net loss: 42.2 pounds

Yes, I went backward.  I didn't have such a disciplined week as far as eating goes.  That's changed, posthaste.

On the other hand, I have had a great week with exercise, running three times last week and getting my distance up to 1.6 miles.  Granted, we're not talking about a Chariots of Fire performance here (although I probably look like one of the slow-motion training shots on the beach as I'm running out there) but it's far, far better than I could do even six months ago.  Tonight I started on the exercise bike but only made it 15 minutes before I was reminded that different muscle groups are indeed required for different forms of exercise.  From now on I'm going to change it up and try to exercise every day.

I'm told that some of the gain may in fact be water retention due to inflammation because I'm using my muscles more.  That's undoubtedly true.  What's also undoubtedly true is that I fell to temptation more often than I'm comfortable with.  Tonight I drew a line in the sand.  And I have another goal in mind, too.

A friend of mine informed me of a 5K run in San Diego this October, and I'm going to sign up.  I'm already running about half that distance now so by October I should certainly be able to handle 5K and then some.  Besides, the participation medal is shaped like Darth Vader--what SF fan couldn't resist that???

I've also fulfilled one of my previous goals--that of mapping out a weekly schedule which I intend to implement next week (so I can start fresh on Sunday; besides, this week is halfway shot).  It's not terribly prescriptive; it basically outlines what activities I'll pursue on what days.  I have deliberately blocked in time for the family--not that it will be the only time, but that some time will be reserved for Sandy and the kids because I admit I do get too preoccupied with other things and need a way to keep on track.  I intend to put something similar together at work as well so I can make your tax dollars go as far as possible (and get my next performance review to look even better ;-) )

I've referenced the Rocky movies in this blog specifically and during this diet/exercise regimen generally more than a few times.  The first three movies are probably my favorite mundane (i.e., non-science fiction or fantasy) movies. In addition to being a brilliant character study, a classic Jungian Hero's Journey, and probably the most motivating story ever put on film, the struggle is very, very real. Sylvester Stallone is on record as saying the entire series from start to finish is in many ways autobiographical--swap boxing for acting and Stallone's entire career progression can be seen.  Starting from the beginning:

Rocky - the Old Shame first job (Rocky collecting for a loan shark/Stallone taking a porno role because he'd just been evicted and needed money)  and the unlikely first triumph (Rocky taking Apollo the distance/Stallone getting the first Rocky movie produced on a shoestring budget and winning the 1976 Best Picture Oscar)
Rocky II - proving that success wasn't a flash in the pan (Rocky's rematch with Apollo/Stallone producing a successful sequel).
Rocky III - both Stallone and his most famous character fight to the top of their respective professions and survive major challenges
Rocky IV - his toughest challenge yet, against a steroid-fueled, almost robotic muscle-bound foreigner who's literally broken all previous competition (reflecting Stallone's on-screen rivalry with Arnold Schwarzenegger; in reality the two men are good friends and business partners)
Rocky V - bad decisions and changes in the industry leave both Rocky and Stallone down on their luck (albeit not entirely back to square one)
Rocky Balboa - a bittersweet comeback later in life that wins over audiences

In other words, we see the evolution of a human being during his lifetime, with the on-screen boxing both a literal conflict and a metaphor for life's struggle.  The whole series, beginning to end, is a classic (although most people, including Stallone, would like to forget Rocky V).

But then again, we all have our own Rocky V, don't we?  This past week was mine.  But that's over with.  One of my objectives with this blog was, like Stallone with the Rocky movies, to explore my own life and document both the good and the bad, so that one of these days someone might get something out of it.

Gonna fly now!