Touchy

Whew... I needed to recover from an intense debate session prompted by my previous blog. Thanks everybody. It was fun. If it isn't clear by now, you may realize how much I like writing. I'm not that good at it, and I figure only by doing a lot of it I might improve. So, thanks to everybody who comments because it gives me reason to write.

From some reason I’ve had on my mind the power of human contact – the power of touch. I’m not a big fan of talking on the phone and I think one of the main reasons is that I don’t feel as connected, I feel like I’m missing out on something. I’m missing out on reading facial expressions and body language. Verbal communication is such a small part of our interactions with each other. What makes us connect with another? Why do some exchanges stick out more than others?

I’ve wondered about this concept as I’ve looked back over my short life. There have been people who have a powerful place in my memory and I wonder why. I image that one of the reasons is that we just connect due to our similarities: shared humor, philosophical ideas, hobbies, miscellaneous interests help to integrate me with another person.

One thing that has really started revealing itself to me as a form of connection is touch. I started realizing this after I often found myself wondering why an older fellow at church seemed to surface in my memory upon reflection of my past week. Why did this man stand out like a father figure? Of course, one may think the reason comes from the spiritual conductivity of church or one might argue for the effect of admiration for wisdom from a generation beyond my own. Though, these may be part of an aggregate rationale, I believe one thing that excels in meaning is that this gentleman used fatherly touch as a way to connect.

When he would talk to me he would put his arm around my shoulder like he was telling me something very important. Or, when he asked how my week had been he would grasp a hold of my elbow and hold it as we conversed. Often when he would pass by he would pat me on the back and give me a smile.

Nobody had a bad thing to say about the man. I think everyone felt connected to him like I did because of the way he used physical touch as form of interest and communication. I think we all felt like he listened to our lives with more then just his ears – he seemed to physically absorb our hearts.

It was something I will always remember and cherish. It is something that I have tried to use when I communicate with friends – it seems to help. It is something I will try to do when I listen to my (future) wife and children.

Why is touch so important? Why do we all crave it? How come it makes us feel more alive and connected to the rest of the world? Why do we seldom use the technique? How come it’s so hard for me utilize the theory with my direct family?

Waiting

We've spent the last several months in this room. Our waiting/conference room. We've been studying for the Enrolled Agent exam. By the end of this week we will be done with our daily studies and our test will have been taken. I don't really feel any anxiety - I've done well enough on our practice tests that I'm confident that I'll pass (though, I won't know for about six months).

This room, though, makes me think. This is a room in which to wait or to study. I know this may sound like a weak jump to something philosophical, but with my impending exam (and because of the music I'm listening to right now) I feel somewhat justified.

Any type of certification, graduation, license, and/or education acts as a mark in the life of a student. I'm less interested in the final score, the final grade; I'm interested in the time applied and the knowledge gained.

I won't lie however, sometimes I feel weak and pitiable because I wonder if I'd have the fortitude to learn the requisite material if I wasn't incased in the program outlines or if I wasn't compelled by someone. I mean, my last college semester: would I have passed any classes if I didn't have to submit my weekly reviews? For this Enrolled Agent exam: if my dad and brothers weren't also meeting would I have studied on my own?

Here’s where this issue plays on my mind: at what point is a person's independence impedance? I've grown up believing that self-containment, self-reliance, self-control is the attribute a rational and wise human being should be found possessed of. But, when should I rely on auxiliary systems when those systems appear inherently damming?

I know I could probably get through this life without any "formal" education, without any pieces of paper to prove my importance, without any help. But, how much better would it be if I do what it takes to excel while grabbing awards and plaques even with (or especially because of) a program or person that encourages it?

Will I study in the shadow of another or will I pridefully wait on my own?

My friends (and pet-peeves)

So, here's the deal: I like to work out. Free-weights are my friends. For me it relives stress (not that I have much - I'm not even married yet (and I didn't mean that as a dog to women, I just meant that being married causes stresses because it's two people trying to live together, that's all)), plus ya gotta love the way it makes a person look. I'd venture a guess that I workout about 2-3 times a week; which, actually, isn't enough time to really bulk up. But, I get busy with work/school and sometimes am just not in an exercising mood.

I would, however, like to add about 20 pounds of muscle to my otherwise slender frame. But the problem with that is the amount of food I would have to eat in order to gain even a single pound. I weigh about 160 and have been at that weight (give or take 5 pounds) for about 5 years now. After having recorded my caloric daily intake and expenses I've realized that I would need to eat about 5-6 times a day and would have to max out with around 3000 calories. My average day of three meals only gives me about 2500 cals (and, that's pushing it for me).

My point is this: because it's so hard for me to gain weight, could it be equally hard or harder to lose weight?

I won't lie, I get fed up with people who complain about their weight but then (1) never exercise, and (2) never eat healthy food. Ahhh!!! It's like one of my pet-peeves (and I don't have that many: see below for a list of my pet-peeves). I mean, it's like never going to class and wondering why you failed the test. Or, it's like filling your car full with dirt and wondering why it won't run properly.

But, then, for those few folks who try their hardest and just can't change; those are the people my heart goes out for.

For the people who complain but don't do anything here's my advice: go run a triathlon or a marathon. Seriously. Probably a triathlon would be the best because they have ones you can do in much shorter times then it would take to run a marathon. Of course, there are short runs/walks (e.g. 5k, 10k, etc), but those are too short to really make a big difference.

Honestly, the only way I'm motivated to find time to exercise and eat healthy is because I'm afraid my next year's triathlon events would find me looking slow and ... um.... not fast. Plus, when you start wearing those really tight bike shorts you'll want to look good. I'm not there quite yet, but I'm sure I will be if I continue my goal of running at least two triathlons each year.

I probably end up sounding all cocky and stuff by writing this stuff (mostly because I don't have a good point). But, I guess this is kind of like my "testimony" of goals and good health.

As for my pet-peeves:
1) Out of shape people who complain without doing anything about it (as mentioned above).

2) Women who hyphenate their last name when they get married. (I'll probably get more comments on this one then anything - don't bother, though, I won't budge - I just think it's silly).

3) Movies where the hero is like god/superman (e.g. Mission Impossible 2, Tomb Raider), when they could easily make him/her look human (i.e. make a least one or two "human" mistakes) while still doing all he/she needs to succeed in his/her "mission".

4) People who don't let other people into their lane, while driving, when the person obviously needs to change lanes. (Rude drives are what I'm talking about. And, I'm not just talking about people who are rude to me. I get over that. I just get ticked when I see rudeness in drivers no matter who's involved.)

5) Stupid modern art. (I totally enjoy art in its various forms, but modern art that is offensive and/or just stupid annoys the crap out of me.)

6) People who sit and stare at stupid modern art and try to explain what the artist meant. (First off, how can you guess what the artist meant when the artist probably didn't even know himself (because the artist was either high and/or just looking for excuses to photograph/paint a naked lady), and second (and most importantly), who gives a crap - it's stupid modern art!)

See, I don't have that many!

Random website of the month

Here is a website that tons of fun. Want to know what your name means? Want to create names for characters in your stories? Want to get some inspiration for your future children's names? Well, it's all here!

Bito: My Nephew

I've got two funny stories about my nephew, who is about 4 years old. For one of them I was there to witness firsthand and the other was told to me by his father. I should mention: my nephew doesn't pronounce his S's very well, so when you read his voice quoted try to hear a cute child's voice who doesn't say his S's.

(1) My sister and brother-in-law brought their two children over to my place because I was going to have a slumber party with them. As soon as Bito (nickname) came in, wearing his Superman pajama's no less, he ran over to me and said, "Let's wehss'el." (which translated, means: Let's wrestle). So, we started playing around and I, of course, let him beat the crap out of me. [The picture above is from a previous day when all my family came over, but I figure its close enough to my story - plus, just look at how round and juicy those two bottoms are!] Anyway, I was face down on the ground and he was on top doing some kind of advanced wrestling move. He paused for a second and shouted, "Heem roller." I had no idea what he was saying so his sister told me, "He said, 'Steam roller.'" I laughed pretty hard because it was all just so adorable.

So, after Bito's macho display of power over me, I figured it was time I got up and started winning. But then, he found a way to hop on my back as I was on all fours - like a dog (or horse, or whatever). Now he's riding me like a horse, but then suddenly, he yells again, "Heem roller." This time I laughed with confusion, because it's a cardinal rule that you only steam roll when your enemy is laying down flat. I asked, "Steam roller? How are you going to do that, you don't have enough space." Next thing I see is Bito falling off my back in the mist of a heem-roller move all the while laughing and giggling. Of course, he didn't have a long way to drop and his tough little body handled the fall without any problems (remember those days?).

Now for story number:
(2) Apparently my sister, brother-in-law, Bito, and his sister were at a hospital looking at newborn babies. For awhile they watched one little baby in particular as it awkwardly cried and moved about inside its crib. Its little arms and legs trashed around in small little baby movements which looked jerky in nature. At that point, little Bito made the announcement that, "That baby is doin' the robot." My brother-in-law tells me they all laughed pretty solidly. We all wonder how Bito knew the robot.

Little kids are so cool. I want one.