I was just thinking to myself that it would be really cool to run a marathon on my thirtieth birthday. As far as I know, races are pretty much always held on Sunday mornings, and it just so happens that my 30th will fall on a Sunday. Very exciting! I think it's fate. Now I need to figure out which city will be hosting a marathon (besides the Olympics in London) and get going with my training!
A couple of days ago I went for a short run. It was the first time I'd run more than twenty paces in about six months, and I managed 3 km. I think I could have probably gone farther, but I'm glad I didn't try to because my quads are still aching today. Clearly I have fallen off the running bandwagon.
Not going to worry too much at the moment, however, because as of midnight tonight my entire focus will be on writing a novel over the course of this long weekend. It will be a literary marathon of sorts.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
One Week Meat-Free (Almost)
It's been a week since I decided to delete flesh from my diet. I made a massive pot of vegetarian chili (vegan, technically), which has been great for dinners and lunches. Have been eating more fruit too. I suppose being a vegetarian is more healthy by default.
Cooking for myself has made this dietary shift easier - I must admit I have been eating more fish to make up for the ingrained idea that I must get a certain daily intake of protein. I just can't stand the thought of eating nothing but beans and apples. And, of course, I love sushi. If sushi was made from mammals I don't think I would be strong enough to go through with becoming a vegetarian. Salmon sashimi is third on my list of the best things to eat in the world, after chocolate and coffee. If I were on death row my last meal would definitely include raw fish, espresso, and dark chocolate.
Which leads me to a confession - I wasn't strong enough on Saturday night to avoid the temptation of a fast-food (read: made without love) hamburger after drinking a wee bit. I only ate about two thirds of it and immediately (or at least the next day, when I was sober) felt guilty. So I slipped up. Smokers and other addicts do this and don't give up, right? I got right back on the horse. That was my last burger. I can quit anytime I want to. Though I feel like I might need a sponsor once my life becomes hectic again. It's common knowledge that we are most likely to buckle when under stress and give into our baser desires. Are there twelve steps to going veggie? There should be.
Cooking for myself has made this dietary shift easier - I must admit I have been eating more fish to make up for the ingrained idea that I must get a certain daily intake of protein. I just can't stand the thought of eating nothing but beans and apples. And, of course, I love sushi. If sushi was made from mammals I don't think I would be strong enough to go through with becoming a vegetarian. Salmon sashimi is third on my list of the best things to eat in the world, after chocolate and coffee. If I were on death row my last meal would definitely include raw fish, espresso, and dark chocolate.
Which leads me to a confession - I wasn't strong enough on Saturday night to avoid the temptation of a fast-food (read: made without love) hamburger after drinking a wee bit. I only ate about two thirds of it and immediately (or at least the next day, when I was sober) felt guilty. So I slipped up. Smokers and other addicts do this and don't give up, right? I got right back on the horse. That was my last burger. I can quit anytime I want to. Though I feel like I might need a sponsor once my life becomes hectic again. It's common knowledge that we are most likely to buckle when under stress and give into our baser desires. Are there twelve steps to going veggie? There should be.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Seizing the Day
This morning I woke up just before 9 and realized that it's Saturday. Being unemployed for the last month or so, weekends don't really mean anything to me anymore. However, this is likely going to be the last Saturday for a long time that I will get to have this weekend feeling upon waking up.
I have decided to go for it, to throw myself headlong into the insanity that is the 3 Day Novel Writing Contest www.3daynovel.com. I'm going to attempt to write a novel. Carpe Diem and all that. (Robin Williams would be proud.) It starts next Saturday at 12:01 am and ends Monday at 11:59pm. I can only imagine the agony. And I have to be in class early Tuesday morning.
But the best way for me to write anything is under extreme pressure, and this contest is all about pressure. I have an idea for a plot, now I just need to fashion a sort of outline, determine characters, and choose a narrative perspective. First-person I'm thinking, or is that too obvious?
Anyway, this isn't exactly how I imagined myself writing a novel - I was thinking sometime in my forties, after a long life of cynical news writing, I would one day embark on a long journey through years of wrestling with my literary demons and writing, bit by bit, my magnum opus, which I would naturally love and hate and end up leaving and coming back to like a bad lover until I was in my sixties and could finally retire and find the time to finish "The Book" - but this three day thing seems so much nicer.
And it's a great excuse to drink unhealthy amounts of coffee! Nothing says "I'm writing a novel" like a big ugly mug of black brew.
I have decided to go for it, to throw myself headlong into the insanity that is the 3 Day Novel Writing Contest www.3daynovel.com. I'm going to attempt to write a novel. Carpe Diem and all that. (Robin Williams would be proud.) It starts next Saturday at 12:01 am and ends Monday at 11:59pm. I can only imagine the agony. And I have to be in class early Tuesday morning.
But the best way for me to write anything is under extreme pressure, and this contest is all about pressure. I have an idea for a plot, now I just need to fashion a sort of outline, determine characters, and choose a narrative perspective. First-person I'm thinking, or is that too obvious?
Anyway, this isn't exactly how I imagined myself writing a novel - I was thinking sometime in my forties, after a long life of cynical news writing, I would one day embark on a long journey through years of wrestling with my literary demons and writing, bit by bit, my magnum opus, which I would naturally love and hate and end up leaving and coming back to like a bad lover until I was in my sixties and could finally retire and find the time to finish "The Book" - but this three day thing seems so much nicer.
And it's a great excuse to drink unhealthy amounts of coffee! Nothing says "I'm writing a novel" like a big ugly mug of black brew.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
To be a vegetarian
In the mail this morning I received my "vegetarian starter kit" from PETA. It's actually just a fancy flyer, but they've got some good recipes and resources and, of course, a whole section on the various ways animals are cruelly treated in the meat industry. Oh, and humorously, they include a bunch of quotes from celebrities who are veggies. I'm sure some people will stop eating chickens because Joaquin Phoenix says it's not cool to eat them, but personally I've got more realistic reasons to cut out meat.
First, I ate some bad pork bits (rinds or something?) after a workout a few years ago because I thought protein would be a good idea. Turns out it was a very, very bad idea. Within two hours of eating the meat I was experiencing the worst stomach cramps of my life, followed by the forceful expulsion of the offending food from both ends. After that I was put off pork for quite some time. I doubt a plate of fruit and crackers would have caused me such distress.
Second, it's become pretty obvious to me that the meat industry, at least in first-world countries, has managed to stream-line the production and distribution of animal parts in the same way as any other mass-produced commodity. The problem is that while softwood lumber does not suffer when cut and packaged, animals unfortunately do. After seeing a big truck with the chickens stuffed in little cramped boxes for the first time I was horrified and vowed to never eat another chicken. (This didn't last, especially during my time in South Korea, but I hope to get back on track.)
Third, it's so easy now to find meat (and even dairy) alternatives, and it seems to be healthier to eat less or no meat. Eating more fruits and vegetables is without a doubt a smart move, and in cutting out meat one is forced to be more conscious of diet. So it's healthier for people and certainly healthier for the piggies.
I don't think it's going to be easy to be so careful about what I'm eating every day, and it's going to be tempting to want to eat meat for a while, but I'll get over it. If I lived on a farm and humanely killed an animal and cured the meat myself I would feel justified in eating it. However, living in the suburbs and being able only to buy meat from the giant grocery chains, I can only assume that I am supporting this industry of animal cruelty.
So here goes my initial attempt to become a full-fledged vegetarian.
First, I ate some bad pork bits (rinds or something?) after a workout a few years ago because I thought protein would be a good idea. Turns out it was a very, very bad idea. Within two hours of eating the meat I was experiencing the worst stomach cramps of my life, followed by the forceful expulsion of the offending food from both ends. After that I was put off pork for quite some time. I doubt a plate of fruit and crackers would have caused me such distress.
Second, it's become pretty obvious to me that the meat industry, at least in first-world countries, has managed to stream-line the production and distribution of animal parts in the same way as any other mass-produced commodity. The problem is that while softwood lumber does not suffer when cut and packaged, animals unfortunately do. After seeing a big truck with the chickens stuffed in little cramped boxes for the first time I was horrified and vowed to never eat another chicken. (This didn't last, especially during my time in South Korea, but I hope to get back on track.)
Third, it's so easy now to find meat (and even dairy) alternatives, and it seems to be healthier to eat less or no meat. Eating more fruits and vegetables is without a doubt a smart move, and in cutting out meat one is forced to be more conscious of diet. So it's healthier for people and certainly healthier for the piggies.
I don't think it's going to be easy to be so careful about what I'm eating every day, and it's going to be tempting to want to eat meat for a while, but I'll get over it. If I lived on a farm and humanely killed an animal and cured the meat myself I would feel justified in eating it. However, living in the suburbs and being able only to buy meat from the giant grocery chains, I can only assume that I am supporting this industry of animal cruelty.
So here goes my initial attempt to become a full-fledged vegetarian.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Minor Setback
Went to tune my guitar and broke the E string. Dammit. I heard a twitching sound and then all of a sudden "zzzz-poing!" the lovely shiny new string snapped and then hung there slackly, mocking me.
Looks like Classical Gas is just not going to happen today.
Looks like Classical Gas is just not going to happen today.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Life, or Something
Making a list is good for some people like me who can easily spend an hour in a chair in the living room staring at the unlit fireplace thinking about what might transpire in the future, and what life is really all about. Some people need to write things down to make them happen. If you don't know what you want out of life then how will you get it?
Deciding what you want and then going for it sounds so much easier than it is though. There are a few things that I would like, but I have to make them more concrete. It is helpful to be specific. Two summers ago, just after I had finished university, I remember I was all dreamy and floating on my back in a swimming pool late one night, looking up at the stars, thinking that everything would just coalesce as time unfolded before me.
That’s just not how life works though. Only sometimes will the door of opportunity be opened for you and a hand held out to guide you through. Most of the time you’ve got to break the goddamn wall down on your own just to get to the other side. And the crazy thing is, you’ve got to know what it is that’s on the other side before you start hammering away so that you have a reason to want to break the wall down in the first place. Otherwise you’ll just be sitting alone in a dark room that everyone else has left with stale cake and confetti lying around. Pretty sad.
I still can't juggle. But I'm still trying because, for now, it's something to do.
Saturday, August 9, 2008
First Amendment
Okay, so I was thinking about goal #97 - "score a hole-in-one at a mini golf course", and I've decided to delete that one and replace it with "become a vegetarian" because, well, I'm just not that crazy about mini golf, and I think eating pigs is unethical and kind of gross. Also, it just seems like a more worthwhile pursuit.
Incidentally, it seems Herman Melville may have been a PETA supporter had he lived today. In the chapter entitled "The Whale as a Dish," the narrator suggests that anyone who thinks cannibalism is immoral might want to re-think their own flesh-eating habits before throwing stones:
"Go to the meat-market of a Saturday night and see the crowds of live bipeds staring up at the long rows of dead quadrupeds. Does not that sight take a tooth out of the cannibal's jaw? ... Who is not a cannibal? I tell you it will be more tolerable for the Fejee that salted down a lean missionary in his cellar against a coming famine... than for thee, civilised and enlightened gourmand, who nailest geese to the ground and feastest on their bloated livers in thy pate-de-fois-gras." [415]
Incidentally, it seems Herman Melville may have been a PETA supporter had he lived today. In the chapter entitled "The Whale as a Dish," the narrator suggests that anyone who thinks cannibalism is immoral might want to re-think their own flesh-eating habits before throwing stones:
"Go to the meat-market of a Saturday night and see the crowds of live bipeds staring up at the long rows of dead quadrupeds. Does not that sight take a tooth out of the cannibal's jaw? ... Who is not a cannibal? I tell you it will be more tolerable for the Fejee that salted down a lean missionary in his cellar against a coming famine... than for thee, civilised and enlightened gourmand, who nailest geese to the ground and feastest on their bloated livers in thy pate-de-fois-gras." [415]
Friday, August 8, 2008
To be a writer
If I could do only more item on my list before I die, I would definitely choose the first one: write a novel. For as long as I can remember that is something I have wanted to do, but have always fiddled around doing anything else instead. Why? Because, like everybody else... I fear failure. So I have never even made a start. Sure, poems, short stories, unfinished things that get shredded weeks later. But I want to write something of substance. Something that takes every single ounce of my physical, intellectual, and spiritual energy. (Surely that is the only way to write something great?) Unfortunately there are always distractions. And when there are none I invent them. Procrastination looms large.
Truman Capote started writing "seriously" when he was 11 years old. He came home from school every day and, while others his age may have been shooting hoops or practicing the piano, he wrote for three hours. Is that what it means to be a writer? Is it the time spent in the act of writing, or the number of works one has published that is important? Does it take a certain type of eccentric character? Should I start smoking cigarettes and talk to my houseplants? Wear only black?
What is a writer? I suppose the definition is vague. Many people could legitimately call themselves writers. But then there are those people in the world whose writing is of a caliber which can change the course of the lives of everyone who reads them. Nothing, not even the brightest fireworks or the most profoundly stirring music can do for me what some passages in a few novels can do. The hair on my neck stands up.
George Orwell said something along the lines of a writer being a collector of odds and ends, of snippets of conversations, themes, words, and ideas; each an important piece, like a grain of sand that, when brought together and melted down into one mass, is turned into a strong, clear pane of glass that becomes the frame through which a reader comes to see language illuminated. I want to be a collector of sand, gathering the grains together over time, observing everything that might be turned into a story. I would love to create a window pane that is so clear the reader doesn’t even know it’s there, seeing only what it frames.
Chekhov said, "Man will become better only when he sees what he is like." Some writers do make people see what they are like. And in so doing, they change the world. If I could write something that changes only one person, I would be happy. But of course I'm getting way ahead of myself, which is always the problem. I just need to start writing a little bit every day and see where it eventually takes me. And I'll still work on the rest of my list when I'm not writing!
Truman Capote started writing "seriously" when he was 11 years old. He came home from school every day and, while others his age may have been shooting hoops or practicing the piano, he wrote for three hours. Is that what it means to be a writer? Is it the time spent in the act of writing, or the number of works one has published that is important? Does it take a certain type of eccentric character? Should I start smoking cigarettes and talk to my houseplants? Wear only black?
What is a writer? I suppose the definition is vague. Many people could legitimately call themselves writers. But then there are those people in the world whose writing is of a caliber which can change the course of the lives of everyone who reads them. Nothing, not even the brightest fireworks or the most profoundly stirring music can do for me what some passages in a few novels can do. The hair on my neck stands up.
George Orwell said something along the lines of a writer being a collector of odds and ends, of snippets of conversations, themes, words, and ideas; each an important piece, like a grain of sand that, when brought together and melted down into one mass, is turned into a strong, clear pane of glass that becomes the frame through which a reader comes to see language illuminated. I want to be a collector of sand, gathering the grains together over time, observing everything that might be turned into a story. I would love to create a window pane that is so clear the reader doesn’t even know it’s there, seeing only what it frames.
Chekhov said, "Man will become better only when he sees what he is like." Some writers do make people see what they are like. And in so doing, they change the world. If I could write something that changes only one person, I would be happy. But of course I'm getting way ahead of myself, which is always the problem. I just need to start writing a little bit every day and see where it eventually takes me. And I'll still work on the rest of my list when I'm not writing!
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Halfway Around the World
Moby Dick update: I'm halfway through, and suspect that I will have to wait till the very end of the book to meet the title character.
I like Melville's changes of pace in the novel - he often leaves the plot for a chapter or two to explain what a "gam" is (a social meeting of two or more whaling ships) or to wax philosophical:
"There are certain queer times and occasions in this strange mixed affair we call life when a man takes this whole universe for a vast practical joke, though the wit thereof he dimly discerns, and more than suspects that the joke is at nobody's expense but his own." [319]
However, the lengthy digressions in which he goes on for entire chapters about, for example, the various types of whales, are, in my opinion, boring, and only pad the story with filler which could be found in any encyclopedia should the reader develop an insatiable desire to discover the most intricate details of whales and the history of whaling in general. In another chapter Ishmael explains that the whiteness of the whale signals mystery and deception. An. Entire. Chapter. Get on with the story, man!
Considering that even readers in his own day (1851 - when there was no YouTube) thought this was a rather boggy text, I don't feel too bad for feeling like it's a bit of a slog to get through parts of this book. Fortunately there are many lines which are pure poetry, and the story is overall an excellent and intriguing adventure. Will Ahab finally find Moby Dick? Will the whale be killed? If so, what will Ahab do once his quest for revenge is over? Will Ishmael want to go wailing ever again? Will the ship even make it back to Nantucket? I guess I'll just have to keep reading to find out.
I like Melville's changes of pace in the novel - he often leaves the plot for a chapter or two to explain what a "gam" is (a social meeting of two or more whaling ships) or to wax philosophical:
"There are certain queer times and occasions in this strange mixed affair we call life when a man takes this whole universe for a vast practical joke, though the wit thereof he dimly discerns, and more than suspects that the joke is at nobody's expense but his own." [319]
However, the lengthy digressions in which he goes on for entire chapters about, for example, the various types of whales, are, in my opinion, boring, and only pad the story with filler which could be found in any encyclopedia should the reader develop an insatiable desire to discover the most intricate details of whales and the history of whaling in general. In another chapter Ishmael explains that the whiteness of the whale signals mystery and deception. An. Entire. Chapter. Get on with the story, man!
Considering that even readers in his own day (1851 - when there was no YouTube) thought this was a rather boggy text, I don't feel too bad for feeling like it's a bit of a slog to get through parts of this book. Fortunately there are many lines which are pure poetry, and the story is overall an excellent and intriguing adventure. Will Ahab finally find Moby Dick? Will the whale be killed? If so, what will Ahab do once his quest for revenge is over? Will Ishmael want to go wailing ever again? Will the ship even make it back to Nantucket? I guess I'll just have to keep reading to find out.
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