Ahh, the Blocke. I'm writing about the blocke for several reasons: First, the Blocke is the world's most horrible thing to experience. It's not that there's anything wrong, or that it's physically painful or anything like that. Far from it. The Blocke is really just nothing. And it's a horrible nothingness. Second, I'm a little bit inspired by my friend Kim - whose blog can be found here http://www.chicagonow.com/listing-toward-forty/2013/11/40-really-awful-writing-prompts/ - and her thoughts on writing prompts. Third, I am always frustrated by writing prompts whenever I come across them. So, I am now writing about The Blocke.
Oh yes, I know that Writer's Block is not spelled with the extra "e' on the end. Even the British wouldn't do something as trivial as that, and I'm pretty sure that they invented the extra "e" on the end of things, just to make English a harder language to understand. No, no - I put the "e" on the end because I want to, because it makes me smile, and because I often type the letter "e" on the end of a whole bunch of words, only to realize that it never belongs there, looks stupid, and makes anything I type look like a a teacher told her third-grade class to re-type a book of Kantian ethics from memory, and then went and corrected everything in red pen.
But, The Blocke is a terrible thing. Imagine, if you will, that you are good at something. No - I mean REALLY good at it. Not just "better than average," or "passable," I mean so good at something that you really cannot imagine that it would not be a part of your daily life. Yeah, you're THAT good at it - and on top of that, you're THRILLED by the concept that this thing would be in your life all the time. It can be anything at all, from playing sports to brushing your teeth (although that's just a bit scary). And then, one day, you are ready to do your favorite thing, only to discover that you have NO IDEA how to do it. That is The Blocke. Only, it's not that you don't remember how-you just....can't, and the harder you try, the harder it is. Not only that, but you KNOW you're good at it, and you KNOW you love it. You also KNOW that right now, it's the most horribly nasty thing that can happen to you and no matter what you do it's not going to be helping a damned thing so you might as well just write any old thing that pops into your head and who cares it's a run-on sentence that sounds more like the drivel spouted by a teen-aged girl who is breaking up with her boyfriend for the seventeenth time this week. Yeah, it's also that annoying.
But my friend wrote a very interesting little list of all the things to NOT write about when you are in The Blocke, including writing about The Blocke. Why does she say this? Because, the world at large does not care about anyone who is experiencing The Blocke, nor is it interested in hearing about your particular struggles with it, etc - because it's also a very, very personal thing, and let's face it - the public in general has no interest in hearing about the writer's personal problems. No, the world wants to be entertained, and that is a writer's job. Whether you're writing for a news source, or a personal blog, or Saturday Night Live, the object is to make it just entertaining enough to get people to continue to read while still be informative....or just plain making them spit their coffee all over their computer screen.
And to get through The Blocke, we have writing prompts. These are nothing more than ideas to try and get the creative juices of writing moving again. And I hate them. Oh, it's not that they're bad, or wrong, or anything at all - I just find them annoying, and I've finally come to the conclusion of WHY I find them so annoying: They all have to do with "I," because they all seem to start with getting in touch with the inner self: "Write about your worst day at school," "Write about a time when someone you love did something nice for you," or "You're walking down the street and happen upon a package containing $1,000. What do you do?" Really???? Are they serious? There are lists of these things, and people who get paid to come up with these lists...all for what? To help writers get over something that cannot be specifically defined or understood? I mean, what is this, the dark ages? Why don't we just pull the leeches out of retirement for medicine, or start treating people for "vapors" again? This is preposterous.
I'm not going to claim that I have the missing answer, one-size-fits-all magical snake oil that can "cure" The Blocke - that's silly. The problem is that every writer is different. Some may go bowling. Some may drink like a fish, since it worked for Hemingway. Some might listen to music - there are as many ways to get through The Blocke as there are writers who are busy doing it. I've experienced The Blocke many times before, and the only thing that I know works for me is busying my mind with things that do not involve writing, and putting myself in places where I feel inspired. Because nobody cares about what you would do with that $1,000, anyway - least of all, you. You're busy living in The Blocke.
Thursday, November 14, 2013
Thursday, September 5, 2013
My Junk E-mail, Hungary, and Godwin's Law.
OK, it's a guilty pleasure of mine, but occasionally, I actually DO look through my junk mail folder to see if there's anything funny to laugh at, or, on rare occasions, something that was actually accidentally sent there. Today offered me something that is both truly outrageous, humorous, offensive, and assinine - all at the same time. It began with the simple title, "Hungary has fallen."
Now, as I happen to be of Hungarian descent, this is of some interest to me - which also explains why this came to me, I'm sure. "Well," I figured, "This ought to be at least amusing."
According to this message, Hungary is no longer a democracy. OH GOOD GOD, SAY IT ISN'T SO!!!!
I mean, really, why wouldn't everyone in the world stand up and be the exact same as 'Merica? Don't they KNOW that our system is the best and they should all aspire to be just like us? But I digress. The message went on to say that the current president has signed away the rights of the opposition parties after many years of, "gutting legislative powers, crippling the free press, and eliminating all mention of a "republic" in the country's constitution." Hmmm...so, they managed to do what the GOP and Democrats have both been trying to do (unsuccessfully) for the last 200+ years. And they made it legal? This is sounding almost more like a blueprint than a travesty. But this gets better.
The message goes on to say that there has been a marked rise in state-sanctioned antisemitism, racism, the criminalization of the homeless, attacks on women and the LGBT community, and worst of all - there are three (count them, THREE) men who are simply known to have ties to the pro-Nazi Arrow Cross Party. Now, here's where I began to laugh. I know, I know, call me crass, but here's where this message really "jumps the shark." I will invoke Godwin's Law here, (for those not aware, in 1990 Mike Godwin surmised that eventually, every internet conversation will lead to a comparison to Hitler and Nazi Germany) because the rest of the e-mail pretty much says, "sign this petition to tell the European Union to do something before Hungary becomes the next Third Reich."
And I laughed. I laughed hard.
Now, I did not laugh because the accusations - especially if they are indeed true - are something to laugh about. I don't like to hear that people are being oppressed anywhere. Nope, what I'm laughing at is the implication that Hungary could ever become something even remotely close to the Third Reich of Nazi-Germany. I mean, this is Hungary. The last "Notable Battle" according to the Wiki on it.....1849, when they tried to gain independence from the Austrian-Hungarian Empire (you know, those Habsburgs we all learned about in high school). The attempt failed.
This is a very small country (just under 100,000 km2 and just under 10 million people) surrounded on all sides by mountains, with 44,000 military personnel - 34% less than our good neighbors to the north, Canada. (via nationmaster.com). Oh, and their neighbors are Serbia, Croatia, Romania, Austria, Slovenia, Slovakia, and the Ukraine. Let's pretend that Sun Tzu's "Art of War" is still practical for a second...how would an army made of mostly tanks and needing supplies, get through any of its neighbors without a sudden and vicious onslaught coming back at them??????? The next Third Reich? Really??? I mean, there's a big difference between having France to one side of you, Poland to the other, and being surrounded by mountains full of people who have turned fighting and killing each other for the last 50 years into an art form!
We're talking about a country that hasn't really been in the news for anything since a small political uprising in 1956. The Gabor sisters (Zsa-Zsa and Eva) are the most known export, other than Gymnastics coach Bela Karolyi, and perhaps musician Bela Fleck. So - what are they going to do to the world? Make us watch old ladies do a floor program to music that Fleck wrote? This is, of course, assuming that they CAN prevail in any sort of world-conquering scheme.
OK - I realize that what this email was talking about was not the military might of Hungary. It's talking about a mindset that can very easily be taken over by fanaticism and warped into something wholly different. We see it all the time, from Islamic extremists to the Westboro Baptist Church, to the GOP members who try to outlaw love to the Liberals who try to outlaw guns. It is pervasive in our world. Extremism - the blatant and purposeful lack of understanding housed in the idea that what an individual or group believes is correct, regardless of practicality - is wrong. But we must also remember something: as Americans, our viewpoint that because we have certain freedoms, rights, and privileges then everyone else MUST have the same ones is ALSO wrong. We're good at demanding our own social freedoms. We're arrogant in assuming that our way is the best for everyone, everywhere.
Commentary is welcome, both positive and negative. Please construct good arguments.
Thanks for reading,
The Fat Kid
Now, as I happen to be of Hungarian descent, this is of some interest to me - which also explains why this came to me, I'm sure. "Well," I figured, "This ought to be at least amusing."
According to this message, Hungary is no longer a democracy. OH GOOD GOD, SAY IT ISN'T SO!!!!
I mean, really, why wouldn't everyone in the world stand up and be the exact same as 'Merica? Don't they KNOW that our system is the best and they should all aspire to be just like us? But I digress. The message went on to say that the current president has signed away the rights of the opposition parties after many years of, "gutting legislative powers, crippling the free press, and eliminating all mention of a "republic" in the country's constitution." Hmmm...so, they managed to do what the GOP and Democrats have both been trying to do (unsuccessfully) for the last 200+ years. And they made it legal? This is sounding almost more like a blueprint than a travesty. But this gets better.
The message goes on to say that there has been a marked rise in state-sanctioned antisemitism, racism, the criminalization of the homeless, attacks on women and the LGBT community, and worst of all - there are three (count them, THREE) men who are simply known to have ties to the pro-Nazi Arrow Cross Party. Now, here's where I began to laugh. I know, I know, call me crass, but here's where this message really "jumps the shark." I will invoke Godwin's Law here, (for those not aware, in 1990 Mike Godwin surmised that eventually, every internet conversation will lead to a comparison to Hitler and Nazi Germany) because the rest of the e-mail pretty much says, "sign this petition to tell the European Union to do something before Hungary becomes the next Third Reich."
And I laughed. I laughed hard.
Now, I did not laugh because the accusations - especially if they are indeed true - are something to laugh about. I don't like to hear that people are being oppressed anywhere. Nope, what I'm laughing at is the implication that Hungary could ever become something even remotely close to the Third Reich of Nazi-Germany. I mean, this is Hungary. The last "Notable Battle" according to the Wiki on it.....1849, when they tried to gain independence from the Austrian-Hungarian Empire (you know, those Habsburgs we all learned about in high school). The attempt failed.
This is a very small country (just under 100,000 km2 and just under 10 million people) surrounded on all sides by mountains, with 44,000 military personnel - 34% less than our good neighbors to the north, Canada. (via nationmaster.com). Oh, and their neighbors are Serbia, Croatia, Romania, Austria, Slovenia, Slovakia, and the Ukraine. Let's pretend that Sun Tzu's "Art of War" is still practical for a second...how would an army made of mostly tanks and needing supplies, get through any of its neighbors without a sudden and vicious onslaught coming back at them??????? The next Third Reich? Really??? I mean, there's a big difference between having France to one side of you, Poland to the other, and being surrounded by mountains full of people who have turned fighting and killing each other for the last 50 years into an art form!
We're talking about a country that hasn't really been in the news for anything since a small political uprising in 1956. The Gabor sisters (Zsa-Zsa and Eva) are the most known export, other than Gymnastics coach Bela Karolyi, and perhaps musician Bela Fleck. So - what are they going to do to the world? Make us watch old ladies do a floor program to music that Fleck wrote? This is, of course, assuming that they CAN prevail in any sort of world-conquering scheme.
OK - I realize that what this email was talking about was not the military might of Hungary. It's talking about a mindset that can very easily be taken over by fanaticism and warped into something wholly different. We see it all the time, from Islamic extremists to the Westboro Baptist Church, to the GOP members who try to outlaw love to the Liberals who try to outlaw guns. It is pervasive in our world. Extremism - the blatant and purposeful lack of understanding housed in the idea that what an individual or group believes is correct, regardless of practicality - is wrong. But we must also remember something: as Americans, our viewpoint that because we have certain freedoms, rights, and privileges then everyone else MUST have the same ones is ALSO wrong. We're good at demanding our own social freedoms. We're arrogant in assuming that our way is the best for everyone, everywhere.
Commentary is welcome, both positive and negative. Please construct good arguments.
Thanks for reading,
The Fat Kid
Thursday, August 29, 2013
Once More Unto the Breach...
Thus begins what is perhaps one of the most compelling speeches in human history...that ever came from a piece of mostly fiction. These words, uttered by Henry V in Shakespeare's famous work of the same name, were used to galvanize the will of the English forces to fight on and commit everything they had to win in battle - and they have been used ever since then when we find ourselves facing decisions which require us to give our all, commit wholeheartedly, and abandon ourselves to our fate for the decisions we face. This phrase has taken on many guises over the years: "Damn the torpedoes" "Come Hell or high water" "Jump in with both feet" "All in," etc, are just a few of the examples of this attitude that are still found in our language usage today.
It's not necessarily something we encounter every day, but the opportunities we have to steel our own will, call upon what courage we have in our blood, do surround us, and what makes us who we are is what we choose to do in those moments. Yesterday was a moment like that for me.
For quite a while now, the Fat Kid has been planning. See, I fell in love with a beautiful woman who changed my life forever. She has shown me patience, kindness, understanding, mercy, faithfulness, and most of all, love. She's shown me how to laugh again, how to experience real joy, and how to cultivate that inner light that burns inside each one of us. She's shown me what it means to go "all in." And so, I began planning for that moment when I could go "all in" with her, forever. Yup - I'm talking about the Big M...marriage.
So yesterday, with the plans to surprise this woman with a ring in a few weeks' time securely in my mind (and no one else's, mind you - nobody knew the whole story) I realized that those plans would come to naught. Not because I was no longer sure of the response, but because there was simply no need to wait any longer. It would have served no purpose other than to make her more anxious and frustrated. So I did the unthinkable: I spoiled my own secret machinations of surprise. Faced with the choice, I decided to go "all in."
Oh, she was mad. She wanted to be surprised. I ruined that one thing she was looking forward to, and now, how could she be surprised? It was ruined, and shattered. The perfect plan, laying in scraps at my feet. That's when I realized why it was that committing wholeheartedly to this woman wasn't just something I wanted to do - it's what I needed to do. There I was, the ring in my pocket, and my somewhat distraught love sitting on the edge of the water fountain next to me. And I knew that she loved me, even through the ruined surprise, she loved me still, and I loved her the more for it. It wasn't perfect, it wasn't according to plan, but there it was, staring me in the face: Life isn't perfect. It's full of twists and turns that take our perfect plans, tip them over, twist them up, crumple them and throw those plans on the trash heap. It's what we do when that happens that makes us who we are.
So, I reached into my pocket, knelt down on a knee before her, and said, "Life isn't perfect. It doesn't go according to plans, no matter how good they might be. This isn't how I envisioned it. But I'm not asking you to marry because I want perfection. I'm asking you to marry me because I want honesty. I love you with all I am, and if you'll have me, I would be honored if you would be my wife." ALL IN.
When was the last time you had one of these moments? What did you decide to do? Did you play it safe, or did you commit to it, wholeheartedly? Safe may keep you existing, but to truly live, you have to go all in, at least some of the time. No, you don't know what will happen. It probably won't go "according to plan." It probably will feel a little weird and strange. And sometimes, you may lose. But not doing it is like not asking a question - the answer will always be "no" if you don't ask it. It can't happen if you don't try. You cannot change anything if you do not take the risk, the chance, the guts and courage to say,
Oh, and for those playing along at home, she said, "Yes!"
The Fat Kid is getting married!
Thanks for reading,
The Fat Kid
It's not necessarily something we encounter every day, but the opportunities we have to steel our own will, call upon what courage we have in our blood, do surround us, and what makes us who we are is what we choose to do in those moments. Yesterday was a moment like that for me.
For quite a while now, the Fat Kid has been planning. See, I fell in love with a beautiful woman who changed my life forever. She has shown me patience, kindness, understanding, mercy, faithfulness, and most of all, love. She's shown me how to laugh again, how to experience real joy, and how to cultivate that inner light that burns inside each one of us. She's shown me what it means to go "all in." And so, I began planning for that moment when I could go "all in" with her, forever. Yup - I'm talking about the Big M...marriage.
So yesterday, with the plans to surprise this woman with a ring in a few weeks' time securely in my mind (and no one else's, mind you - nobody knew the whole story) I realized that those plans would come to naught. Not because I was no longer sure of the response, but because there was simply no need to wait any longer. It would have served no purpose other than to make her more anxious and frustrated. So I did the unthinkable: I spoiled my own secret machinations of surprise. Faced with the choice, I decided to go "all in."
Oh, she was mad. She wanted to be surprised. I ruined that one thing she was looking forward to, and now, how could she be surprised? It was ruined, and shattered. The perfect plan, laying in scraps at my feet. That's when I realized why it was that committing wholeheartedly to this woman wasn't just something I wanted to do - it's what I needed to do. There I was, the ring in my pocket, and my somewhat distraught love sitting on the edge of the water fountain next to me. And I knew that she loved me, even through the ruined surprise, she loved me still, and I loved her the more for it. It wasn't perfect, it wasn't according to plan, but there it was, staring me in the face: Life isn't perfect. It's full of twists and turns that take our perfect plans, tip them over, twist them up, crumple them and throw those plans on the trash heap. It's what we do when that happens that makes us who we are.
So, I reached into my pocket, knelt down on a knee before her, and said, "Life isn't perfect. It doesn't go according to plans, no matter how good they might be. This isn't how I envisioned it. But I'm not asking you to marry because I want perfection. I'm asking you to marry me because I want honesty. I love you with all I am, and if you'll have me, I would be honored if you would be my wife." ALL IN.
When was the last time you had one of these moments? What did you decide to do? Did you play it safe, or did you commit to it, wholeheartedly? Safe may keep you existing, but to truly live, you have to go all in, at least some of the time. No, you don't know what will happen. It probably won't go "according to plan." It probably will feel a little weird and strange. And sometimes, you may lose. But not doing it is like not asking a question - the answer will always be "no" if you don't ask it. It can't happen if you don't try. You cannot change anything if you do not take the risk, the chance, the guts and courage to say,
Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more,
Or close the wall up with our English dead!
In peace there’s nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility,
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger:
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favored rage,
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect,
Let pry through the portage of the head
Like the brass cannon, let the brow o'erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth a gallèd rock
O'erhang and jutty his confounded base,
Swilled with the wild and wasteful ocean.
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,
Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit
To his full height. On, on, you noblest English,
Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof,
Fathers that, like so many Alexanders,
Have in these parts from morn till even fought
And sheathed their swords for lack of argument.
Dishonor not your mothers. Now attest
That those whom you called fathers did beget you.
Be copy now to men of grosser blood,
And teach them how to war. And you, good yeoman,
Whose limbs were made in England, show us here
The mettle of your pasture. Let us swear
That you are worth your breeding, which I doubt not,
For there is none of you so mean and base
That hath not noble luster in your eyes.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game’s afoot.
Follow your spirit, and upon this charge
Cry “God for Harry, England, and Saint George!”
The Fat Kid is getting married!
Thanks for reading,
The Fat Kid
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
A Little Less Fat Kid, a Lot More Awesome
It's time again for an update from the Fat Kid!
Well, as most of you all know, I've struggled on and off for a long time with weight issues. I mean, seriously, I call myself the Fat Kid...weight/body image issues, much??? Along with this whole running thing that I've been doing - yep, I've kinda sorta kept on AFTER the 5k - I've been trying to eat better, too. The last time I did this, I went from a heavy 265 lbs to 225 lbs. I looked great, I felt great, and then I sort of stopped taking as much care of myself as I should have, and my weight went back up to about 250 lbs. So, with the running and activity level this year, my goal was to lose about 20 lbs. And I'm proud to say that in about 12 weeks, I've done just that, and am sitting pretty at about 230 lbs!!!! YAY! Go, Me!
And then, today, a friend of mine posted an article on his facebook page about "crossfit." Now, if you're unfamiliar with it, crossfit is pretty much a high-energy, kick-ass program designed to improve your overall fitness level while building muscle, cutting fat, and making you physically capable of accomplishing anything. In basic terminology, this is what you should be doing if you are planning on outrunning and outmuscling the zombie apocalypse. It's crazy, in that same way the "p-90x" and "insanity" workouts are crazy. But...it does work. But, I digress. My friend posted an article about what winning means, and why it's important. Here's the quote from the article that caught me:
"Winning is about overcoming doubts, overcoming fears and insecurities. It's ridding ourselves of negative thoughts and telling our bodies and our minds to do what they've been training to do over the past weeks, months, and years." -Pat Hanavan
OK, you might be saying, "I'm tired of all your positive-talk and gobbledegook nonsense!" I don't blame you. It's tough to keep hearing it over and over, particularly if you're NOT one of those annoyingly positive people. But please, re-read that quote. It says it plain as day: "...telling our bodies and minds to do what they've been training to do..." That's how you win. That's how you succeed, in anything. There's a scientific principle that mimics this, in the laws of intertia: Objects at rest tend to stay at rest, while objects in motion tend to stay in motion. This is the same thing. If we train to be sedentary, we will stay that way, and if we train to be active, we will remain so. All it takes is a little willpower to overcome our fears, our doubts, and our insecurities. I'm an expert in those. I have many. They challenge me constantly, and I hate them. I hate that I can't shut those fears off. I hate that they intervene in my life and cause me to doubt. For a long time, those fears ruled my life, and I didn't very much like me. Now? Now, I still have skirmishes with those fears, those doubts, those insecurities. Sometimes, they win. I win a lot more of those skirmishes than I used to.
I'm training to win them all.
Thanks for reading,
The Fat Kid
Well, as most of you all know, I've struggled on and off for a long time with weight issues. I mean, seriously, I call myself the Fat Kid...weight/body image issues, much??? Along with this whole running thing that I've been doing - yep, I've kinda sorta kept on AFTER the 5k - I've been trying to eat better, too. The last time I did this, I went from a heavy 265 lbs to 225 lbs. I looked great, I felt great, and then I sort of stopped taking as much care of myself as I should have, and my weight went back up to about 250 lbs. So, with the running and activity level this year, my goal was to lose about 20 lbs. And I'm proud to say that in about 12 weeks, I've done just that, and am sitting pretty at about 230 lbs!!!! YAY! Go, Me!
And then, today, a friend of mine posted an article on his facebook page about "crossfit." Now, if you're unfamiliar with it, crossfit is pretty much a high-energy, kick-ass program designed to improve your overall fitness level while building muscle, cutting fat, and making you physically capable of accomplishing anything. In basic terminology, this is what you should be doing if you are planning on outrunning and outmuscling the zombie apocalypse. It's crazy, in that same way the "p-90x" and "insanity" workouts are crazy. But...it does work. But, I digress. My friend posted an article about what winning means, and why it's important. Here's the quote from the article that caught me:
"Winning is about overcoming doubts, overcoming fears and insecurities. It's ridding ourselves of negative thoughts and telling our bodies and our minds to do what they've been training to do over the past weeks, months, and years." -Pat Hanavan
OK, you might be saying, "I'm tired of all your positive-talk and gobbledegook nonsense!" I don't blame you. It's tough to keep hearing it over and over, particularly if you're NOT one of those annoyingly positive people. But please, re-read that quote. It says it plain as day: "...telling our bodies and minds to do what they've been training to do..." That's how you win. That's how you succeed, in anything. There's a scientific principle that mimics this, in the laws of intertia: Objects at rest tend to stay at rest, while objects in motion tend to stay in motion. This is the same thing. If we train to be sedentary, we will stay that way, and if we train to be active, we will remain so. All it takes is a little willpower to overcome our fears, our doubts, and our insecurities. I'm an expert in those. I have many. They challenge me constantly, and I hate them. I hate that I can't shut those fears off. I hate that they intervene in my life and cause me to doubt. For a long time, those fears ruled my life, and I didn't very much like me. Now? Now, I still have skirmishes with those fears, those doubts, those insecurities. Sometimes, they win. I win a lot more of those skirmishes than I used to.
I'm training to win them all.
Thanks for reading,
The Fat Kid
Monday, June 24, 2013
The lasting effect...
It often surprises me how I remember things. Strange things that make no real sense for me to remember, and some things that make perfect sense. There's probably some crazed pattern to it -moments from my life when I was particularly observant for some reason or other, or something that was drilled into my head repeatedly until I had no choice but to incorporate it into myself. Either way, it sometimes amazes me.
This was a weekend full of memories. I was lucky to get to witness the retirement of a Serbian Eastern Orthodox priest, who, for the last 37 years has been in service in a single parish. Now, it's rare to get to witness the retirement of any priest in any religion, but to find anyone who has been in the service of a single parish for that long a time is even more rare. Of course, the outpouring of love for this man was simply astounding. Speeches were given, Kola dancing was performed, choirs sang, and then, the person everyone was honoring stood up and said his many thanks. But then he said something that made me understand just why the crowd of 400 was there to honor him.
Slightly stooping with age, in his broken English, this man simply said, "I would ask you to forgive me. Forgive each other, have no fear or anger in your hearts when you come to church, or anywhere you seek God." Wow. His retirement, and all he wants is to be forgiven. 37 years of service, and he asks, of all things, to be forgiven. This is the picture of humility. In this exceedingly cynical age, where most organized religion is looked down upon by the media in general, it is so nice to see that there are still humble people who recognize the gifts of mercy, kindness, simplicity, and love.
The following morning, I was given permission to sing in the choir during the Divine Liturgy. Now, growing up Catholic, I thought the Roman church was pretty strict, and that an hour long Mass was long. An Orthodox service is usually about twice as long a Catholic Mass, and it's all singing. Well, almost all of it. And the choir is...pretty darned important. Indeed, it's essential to the Liturgy. THey take the choir pretty seriously, and here, a stranger who doesn't know the music and doesn't know the language (yes, some of it is in Serbian) was allowed to sing in the choir. Luckily, I can sing, and I can read music quickly. It seems the director of the choir is VERY picky about whom she allows to sing...and I was invited back to sing any time. I guess I was trained pretty well.
I owe much of that training to one man, whom, I found out after the service, passed away, I think that morning. Jim Callaghan, long-time teacher, mentor, and friend, taught me to learn music, learn it quickly, and to trust my voice. He taught me to sing with gusto, and if I was going to make a mistake - own it. He taught me what it meant to lead and to follow, and to recognize the qualities of leadership in others. He taught me that music is born from within, that it lives in the soul, and that the gift of music - or any art, for that matter - lies not in posessing a talent, but in sharing it with others. He taught me that the reward was not to be found in the accolades one might receive, but in watching the faces of those reacting to art, and making their lives, for just a moment, a touch better. He taught me how the arts have a power to bring about change. He especially taught me that music is a prayer. There are prayers said before battles, and prayers said before celebrations. There are prayers of sorrow, and prayers of joy, prayers of loss and prayers of reward. I like to think that on Sunday morning, the prayers that I was singing maybe helped Jim along his way to a choir of another sort - that of the angels of Heaven. Thank you, Jim, for all that you have done for me and for countless others. May you know a heavenly rest.
Thanks for reading,
The Fat Kid
This was a weekend full of memories. I was lucky to get to witness the retirement of a Serbian Eastern Orthodox priest, who, for the last 37 years has been in service in a single parish. Now, it's rare to get to witness the retirement of any priest in any religion, but to find anyone who has been in the service of a single parish for that long a time is even more rare. Of course, the outpouring of love for this man was simply astounding. Speeches were given, Kola dancing was performed, choirs sang, and then, the person everyone was honoring stood up and said his many thanks. But then he said something that made me understand just why the crowd of 400 was there to honor him.
Slightly stooping with age, in his broken English, this man simply said, "I would ask you to forgive me. Forgive each other, have no fear or anger in your hearts when you come to church, or anywhere you seek God." Wow. His retirement, and all he wants is to be forgiven. 37 years of service, and he asks, of all things, to be forgiven. This is the picture of humility. In this exceedingly cynical age, where most organized religion is looked down upon by the media in general, it is so nice to see that there are still humble people who recognize the gifts of mercy, kindness, simplicity, and love.
The following morning, I was given permission to sing in the choir during the Divine Liturgy. Now, growing up Catholic, I thought the Roman church was pretty strict, and that an hour long Mass was long. An Orthodox service is usually about twice as long a Catholic Mass, and it's all singing. Well, almost all of it. And the choir is...pretty darned important. Indeed, it's essential to the Liturgy. THey take the choir pretty seriously, and here, a stranger who doesn't know the music and doesn't know the language (yes, some of it is in Serbian) was allowed to sing in the choir. Luckily, I can sing, and I can read music quickly. It seems the director of the choir is VERY picky about whom she allows to sing...and I was invited back to sing any time. I guess I was trained pretty well.
I owe much of that training to one man, whom, I found out after the service, passed away, I think that morning. Jim Callaghan, long-time teacher, mentor, and friend, taught me to learn music, learn it quickly, and to trust my voice. He taught me to sing with gusto, and if I was going to make a mistake - own it. He taught me what it meant to lead and to follow, and to recognize the qualities of leadership in others. He taught me that music is born from within, that it lives in the soul, and that the gift of music - or any art, for that matter - lies not in posessing a talent, but in sharing it with others. He taught me that the reward was not to be found in the accolades one might receive, but in watching the faces of those reacting to art, and making their lives, for just a moment, a touch better. He taught me how the arts have a power to bring about change. He especially taught me that music is a prayer. There are prayers said before battles, and prayers said before celebrations. There are prayers of sorrow, and prayers of joy, prayers of loss and prayers of reward. I like to think that on Sunday morning, the prayers that I was singing maybe helped Jim along his way to a choir of another sort - that of the angels of Heaven. Thank you, Jim, for all that you have done for me and for countless others. May you know a heavenly rest.
Thanks for reading,
The Fat Kid
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
Bike to 5k....I'm the luckiest man alive.
You know, there are a lot of people out there who have done a "Couch to 5k" program - and it's awesome. I'm not sure I could have done that. Well, I didn't do that, as a matter of fact. I did a "Couch to biking" program, and now I've started down a "Bike to 5k" program...and everything, including the aches and pains...has been worth it.
Saturday morning, 6 AM. If I'm going to eat, I know that I have to do it now. Otherwise, there's no eating until after the race. I know this because there have been countless training runs where I was cramping from eating too close to the run. So I eat just a little, and start drinking.
7:30 - leave the house to get to the race start. Registration starts at 8 and there's only a mile and half to go, but you never know how these things go, so it's "get there early and get it done." I think we were the first in line to get to the registration tables. And met the newly re-elected mayor. Oh, ok.
9:00 - Race start. I get off to a good start and am feeling pretty decent for the first mile....and that's when it starts: pain in the shins. Pain? More like, "my shins felt like 80 lbs of lead." In the interest of wanting to conserve energy, I think I failed to warm up quiiiiiiiite enough, and the result was fast-building lactic acid in my shins. Maybe that's "shin splints" and maybe it's not - the truth be told, I don't really care. All I know is that it forced me to.....walk. I know that a lot of runners have to walk for a bit in their races, and that's fine. A lot of those people I talk to are walking while doing a malf marathon, or a 10k, or other even longer race. I was walking after about the first .75 (yeah, that's 3/4) of a mile. REALLY???? Talk about disappointing.
Now, it's amazing. Several times in my life, it's felt like time slows when I'm in the middle of a moment. This felt like that. My love and partner in this running event caught up to me (not that she was ever far behind) and pushed me through the pain. Wow. What an amazing woman. Not only is she running the race, but she's motivating the Fat Kid to keep it going. It's at this point where I sit back and look at it all and say, "What did I ever do to deserve the love of a woman like this?" Those minutes seemed like hours to the pain in my legs, but her support made me realize something: I had to fight to get here, and this race was not going to let me finish it without that same fight.
So we kept going. I walked when I had to, and I ran as much as I could. Finally, at the end, I had enough in the tank (and for the record, the energy, my lungs, etc ALL felt great - except the lower half of my legs) And then I saw the finish line...and the best thing ever: that clock that tells you just how much time has passed. And then I saw the worst thing ever: the 70+ yr old man in front of me. OK, I can't make this phrase sound good, but "AAWWWWW HELL TO THE "NO." Yeah. Pain or no pain, I can't let a senior citizen beat me. That bit about conserving energy came in handy as I crossed the line at 32:46, one second ahead of Mr. Anderson, who crossed at 32:47. My support, my love, my inspiration, my cheerleader, my best friend...crossed just afterwards at 32:52. She was only behind me because I didn't tell her I was going to sprint. She deserved better from me.
11AM - packed, ready to go, a camping weekend awaiting us, we head off for a weekend of cold nights, warm campfires, hiking, beach volleyball and a little well-deserved camp cooking (steak, sausage and peppers, eggs, chicken salad, yams, etc.) and there may or may not have been a little whiskey, too!
There have been a lot of "great/awesome weekends" for me in the last bunch of months. In fact, I've been blessed with many weekends liek that over the course of my life. This one....this one put them all to shame. I am the luckiest man alive.
Thanks for reading,
The Fat Kid
Saturday morning, 6 AM. If I'm going to eat, I know that I have to do it now. Otherwise, there's no eating until after the race. I know this because there have been countless training runs where I was cramping from eating too close to the run. So I eat just a little, and start drinking.
7:30 - leave the house to get to the race start. Registration starts at 8 and there's only a mile and half to go, but you never know how these things go, so it's "get there early and get it done." I think we were the first in line to get to the registration tables. And met the newly re-elected mayor. Oh, ok.
9:00 - Race start. I get off to a good start and am feeling pretty decent for the first mile....and that's when it starts: pain in the shins. Pain? More like, "my shins felt like 80 lbs of lead." In the interest of wanting to conserve energy, I think I failed to warm up quiiiiiiiite enough, and the result was fast-building lactic acid in my shins. Maybe that's "shin splints" and maybe it's not - the truth be told, I don't really care. All I know is that it forced me to.....walk. I know that a lot of runners have to walk for a bit in their races, and that's fine. A lot of those people I talk to are walking while doing a malf marathon, or a 10k, or other even longer race. I was walking after about the first .75 (yeah, that's 3/4) of a mile. REALLY???? Talk about disappointing.
Now, it's amazing. Several times in my life, it's felt like time slows when I'm in the middle of a moment. This felt like that. My love and partner in this running event caught up to me (not that she was ever far behind) and pushed me through the pain. Wow. What an amazing woman. Not only is she running the race, but she's motivating the Fat Kid to keep it going. It's at this point where I sit back and look at it all and say, "What did I ever do to deserve the love of a woman like this?" Those minutes seemed like hours to the pain in my legs, but her support made me realize something: I had to fight to get here, and this race was not going to let me finish it without that same fight.
So we kept going. I walked when I had to, and I ran as much as I could. Finally, at the end, I had enough in the tank (and for the record, the energy, my lungs, etc ALL felt great - except the lower half of my legs) And then I saw the finish line...and the best thing ever: that clock that tells you just how much time has passed. And then I saw the worst thing ever: the 70+ yr old man in front of me. OK, I can't make this phrase sound good, but "AAWWWWW HELL TO THE "NO." Yeah. Pain or no pain, I can't let a senior citizen beat me. That bit about conserving energy came in handy as I crossed the line at 32:46, one second ahead of Mr. Anderson, who crossed at 32:47. My support, my love, my inspiration, my cheerleader, my best friend...crossed just afterwards at 32:52. She was only behind me because I didn't tell her I was going to sprint. She deserved better from me.
11AM - packed, ready to go, a camping weekend awaiting us, we head off for a weekend of cold nights, warm campfires, hiking, beach volleyball and a little well-deserved camp cooking (steak, sausage and peppers, eggs, chicken salad, yams, etc.) and there may or may not have been a little whiskey, too!
There have been a lot of "great/awesome weekends" for me in the last bunch of months. In fact, I've been blessed with many weekends liek that over the course of my life. This one....this one put them all to shame. I am the luckiest man alive.
Thanks for reading,
The Fat Kid
Thursday, May 2, 2013
The Fat Kid Runneth???
Well, I thought it might be about time to dedicate a post to this latest project of mine: running a 5K race. For someone who understands that running and cycling share a lot of the same qualities, you'd think that I might take to it quickly, and enjoy it. Well, there's a hidden quality they both share, and that is that TRAINING SUCKS. Yup. Training is where the hard work is done. That's where you run, even if you don't want to, even if you can't stand the pain, even if you know you look like an idiot out there, even if your legs are about to fall off - you keep doing it. The rewards are the races, but the training? No, the training is where you do the hard work, and for me, that hard work - on the bike or on my feet - will never be "fun." It's training, and it hurts, and that's why I don't like it.
But in the last couple of weeks, a few things have happened. See, the Fat Kid's girlfriend LIKES to run, and convinced me that doing a 5k race was a good and important thing. She's right, of course - running is a good thing for me to do. It's healthy, it's easier to do wherever I go, it's relatively low-cost (if you want it to be) and I can still wear most of my biking gear while doing it...so it's really a smart thing, as it also works other muscle groups and is good for my lungs, etc. I know all this, but the facts remain: I have never run a distance of 3.1 miles in my life, and up to now, have convinced myself that I could NOT do it. In fact, I've been afraid of it, hiding behind excuses like "flat feet" (which is true) "shin splints" (which is true, but I've likely exaggerated it) and other such things. So, registering with her for this race is a way for me to face this rather silly fear of running.
And it turns out that "silly" is precisely what it is. I mean, really? Afraid of running? Who does that? And I remembered something: I used to be afraid of hills, too. Now I just don't like them a whole bunch, but I used to be afraid to even try them. Now, I see a hill and even though I know it's going to hurt, I do my best to ride up it anyway. Why? Because I don't want to be afraid anymore. I don't like that guy who fears hills. Just like I don't like that guy who's afraid to run.
So, with that in mind this week, I've been running regularly, and on Tuesday, something pretty incredible happened: I ran the first mile without stopping. Previously, I'd been running about 1/3 mile before having to stop and rest for a second, or at least walk just a little. Not on that day. I finally completed the first mile. For the first time since starting this exploration into running (which started about 6 weeks ago with occasionally running with my girlfriend) I could look at what I did, and be mildly pleased. Oh hell, I was ecstatic!!! I - me - the Fat Kid - RAN A MILE. I don't think I've ever run a mile before in my life. Ever. And here I am, doing it. Still not necessarily "enjoying" it...but DOING it.
Now - for a quick dose of reality, one mile's not going to get me far in a 3.1 mile race. Not in the least. So I should only be just "so proud" of 1 mile. But it's that first mile that's the hardest to conquer. I know if I can do one mile, I can eventually do two, and if I can do two, I can eventually do three. The only problem is that I have until the 25th to be able to do those three. Damned time limitations. But that's a good thing, because it doesn't let me hide from it. I'm forced to do it, to own it, to push myself, in an endeavor that is good for me. And I'm telling you all about it because that's me not hiding from it either. Who knows? There may be a day when I become "The Kid Formerly Known As Fat" and I get to make my name into just a symbol. Ummm...Don't hold your breath on that one.
In other knews...I'm getting even with her, and making her prep for a ride-to-be-disclosed-later. Maybe we can both win!
Thanks for Reading,
The Fat Kid
But in the last couple of weeks, a few things have happened. See, the Fat Kid's girlfriend LIKES to run, and convinced me that doing a 5k race was a good and important thing. She's right, of course - running is a good thing for me to do. It's healthy, it's easier to do wherever I go, it's relatively low-cost (if you want it to be) and I can still wear most of my biking gear while doing it...so it's really a smart thing, as it also works other muscle groups and is good for my lungs, etc. I know all this, but the facts remain: I have never run a distance of 3.1 miles in my life, and up to now, have convinced myself that I could NOT do it. In fact, I've been afraid of it, hiding behind excuses like "flat feet" (which is true) "shin splints" (which is true, but I've likely exaggerated it) and other such things. So, registering with her for this race is a way for me to face this rather silly fear of running.
And it turns out that "silly" is precisely what it is. I mean, really? Afraid of running? Who does that? And I remembered something: I used to be afraid of hills, too. Now I just don't like them a whole bunch, but I used to be afraid to even try them. Now, I see a hill and even though I know it's going to hurt, I do my best to ride up it anyway. Why? Because I don't want to be afraid anymore. I don't like that guy who fears hills. Just like I don't like that guy who's afraid to run.
So, with that in mind this week, I've been running regularly, and on Tuesday, something pretty incredible happened: I ran the first mile without stopping. Previously, I'd been running about 1/3 mile before having to stop and rest for a second, or at least walk just a little. Not on that day. I finally completed the first mile. For the first time since starting this exploration into running (which started about 6 weeks ago with occasionally running with my girlfriend) I could look at what I did, and be mildly pleased. Oh hell, I was ecstatic!!! I - me - the Fat Kid - RAN A MILE. I don't think I've ever run a mile before in my life. Ever. And here I am, doing it. Still not necessarily "enjoying" it...but DOING it.
Now - for a quick dose of reality, one mile's not going to get me far in a 3.1 mile race. Not in the least. So I should only be just "so proud" of 1 mile. But it's that first mile that's the hardest to conquer. I know if I can do one mile, I can eventually do two, and if I can do two, I can eventually do three. The only problem is that I have until the 25th to be able to do those three. Damned time limitations. But that's a good thing, because it doesn't let me hide from it. I'm forced to do it, to own it, to push myself, in an endeavor that is good for me. And I'm telling you all about it because that's me not hiding from it either. Who knows? There may be a day when I become "The Kid Formerly Known As Fat" and I get to make my name into just a symbol. Ummm...Don't hold your breath on that one.
In other knews...I'm getting even with her, and making her prep for a ride-to-be-disclosed-later. Maybe we can both win!
Thanks for Reading,
The Fat Kid
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