I guess since I asked for trouble, I found it.
After waking up extremely late today, I managed to sprain my ankle rather severely this afternoon. After a trip to the hospital and the RX, I’m pretty doped up on pain meds.
I’m recuperating overnight at the ex-inlaws – but it looks like I’ll be off my feet for a while.
I’ve never broken any bones, and the last sprain I got was when I was 12 or 13.
This sure is some interesting pain. Wish I had my camera.
Ow.
One thing that I really like about changing workout routines is the DOMS (Delayed Onset Muscle Soreness) that occurs the day after. After (over?) performing in the yoga class yesterday, I’m feeling some weird soreness around my lower quadriceps and my back muscles feel a lot like when I used to roll out pizzas with a rolling pin.
Much like any soreness, it reminds me that it’s doing something to my muscles, which is nice. (Also that I skipped my normal workout to go to this yoga class, so I don’t feel bad about skipping.)
I’ve tried to adequately describe how interesting pain (I think) is to people, and they always look at me like I’m nuts. Or a Sado-masochist.
But really, how often in life do people embrace pain? Most people spend a lot of time avoiding pain. Which is understandable. I myself do it – pain isn’t something I enjoy, but when it happens, I take the time to appreciate the feelings that it produces.
I’ve got a slight sunburn from going swimming at my brother’s house on Saturday with my nephews. The sunburn pain is a little irritating. Unfortunately I had a horrendous sunburn experience one summer in Houston as a result of being at Waterworld all day without any sunscreen. I fear sunburns for the type of skin cancer that I suspect it produces.
However, around the pool flew yellowjackets and bees, that often stopped to drink some of the puddled water. I often wondered (even aloud) what it would be like to be stung – in comparison to being tattooed. I haven’t been stung by anything other than ants since I was a young lad. After sitting in the tattoo chair for two and a half hours, I cant imagine that a wasp sting would hurt that much.
Is that weird?
The date is looming.
Flights and hotel have been booked.
I await with mild apprehension – stressing to an nth degree about the trip.
Spreading my father’s ashes in his requested place – the time is coming.
Practical issues loom – transport of a box of ashes, how much do I pack, etc, etc.
Other issues like emotion, and closure dance at the periphery. It’s difficult to describe what this means. It happens to us all – we all die.
So, I know you’ve been thinking to yourself, “Self? I wonder what David’s thoughts were on the Lost finale”. I know that there are lots of opinions floating around the etherwebs. Lost was already one of those shows that many people either loved or hated. Rather than devolve into a discussion about how I feel the need to self mutilate myself after watching the finale, I thought I would write a blog post describing why I think it was so great.
As a (practicing) non-thiest, I really had never put much thought into the theology behind the series. “Christian Shepherd”, duh, didn’t click with me until this final episode. While the writers, through interviews and dvd commentaries, had left a lot of it open to speculation – intentionally, I think they followed through. It never beat you over the head in any direction – even with the ending taking place in a church. Like most of the events in the series, it left a lot of room for interpretation by the viewer – which is one of the reasons it was so successful. It resonated with people all over because even though the series was based on a lot of events that didn’t make sense, the finale brought forth a conclusion that made sense of those events.
Was I shocked that they didn’t answer all the questions? Hell NO. Why would I care WHY the shark had a Dharma symbol on it? Why would I care WHY there was a polar bear on the island? Near the end, the writers made it clear that there would be less answers than just concluding these people’s lives. They did it brilliantly.
The conclusion was as fulfilling as I had expected it to be. With the quality of the writing that kept that show going for six seasons (some admittedly better than others ), it didn’t let up. I’m not ashamed to say that I teared up at the end.
I watched it again. And I teared up at the end again.
Well, I started a calendar so that I can hopefully keep track of the burlesque stuff happening out and about in the DFW metroplex.
There’s a lot going on (including classes).
Work in progress:
I also managed to get an RSS feed going off that same calendar (to the right of this blog, underneath my green hair) so that people can quickly glance and see what’s coming up.
It’s pretty hard to track all this info down, if you have any information that needs to be added – don’t hesitate to let me know.
I opened my blog to search engines again and for the same reason I quit that last time is happening again…..
Since I posted Ren & Stimpy’s Naked Beach Party clip, search engines have hit my blog for “naket beach” and “naked men on beach”. *Sigh*
In other news, I forgot that when I was at the burlesque show on Sunday night, one of the acts was a sideshow guy. He needed volunteers, so I went up and got to be part of the “Gay Table” act. It was pretty fun – we had knives juggled around us while us four balanced on each other as a table.
One of the dancers used Imelda May’s “Big Bad Handsome Man” to her burlesque act. Speaking of Imelda May, she posted a new video today:
And also, I found a rockin’ version she did of an 80’s classic:
It’s not that there has been nothing to write (blog) about, just nothing really worth mentioning really.
School is drawing to a close, which means that I need to decide which direction my life will take from this point forward.
Do I keep going to school? Get another job (closer to home)?
Nothing is really standing out – it’s kind of blurring right by.
Today in my Rock and Roll History class, I admitted that I had seen Metallica in ’89 and AC/DC in ’91. Somehow, I was magically transformed from “that old guy who knows a lot about music” into “that cool old dude who’s seen it all”. This one kid who was born in 1990 (!) said that he was sorry that he missed that time period.
I had to remind him that the internet didn’t exist then. That fanzines and magazines were the ONLY way to stay in touch with a band – unless you were lucky enough to like a band that had an active fan club. No twitter, no google, no motor cars, not a single luxury…..
My daughter has plowed through Season 1 of Lost now. She’s got this gurgling thing that she does with her throat when she’s nervous. I can always tell when the tension is ratcheting up because she’ll be making that noise a mile a minute. Pretty entertaining.
I really wish I had something of worth to update.
But I don’t.
I made my daughter give a presentation as to why she should be allowed on Facebook. Her presentation was (relatively) well reasoned and covered enough ground that she convinced us. She’s on there now, and since we told her she couldn’t use (read:get addicted) any of the game apps, she’s managed to manage her time well – she’s only on every once in a while.
I finished my five page paper for my Rock & Roll History Music Appreciation class – found a really cool book.
Used it as a source, but I’m really falling in love with the material. Much like reading the horoscopes, I’m going, “HEY! That’s ME!!”
