Month: May 2014

It’s Monday. Here Are Some Words.

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I wish I had more to report today, but I don’t.  I could speak of the massive headaches and heartaches and the disgust with humanity and gnashing of teeth that comes with being a teacher — doubly so a teacher of high school seniors, some of whom have failed and will as a result not graduate — at the end of the year.  But I won’t.  Partially for reasons of confidentiality, partially because I’m a softie at heart, but mostly because if I spend another instant thinking about it today I might just have to kick one of my cats, and my cats don’t deserve it.  At least, not today.  Not that I’m aware of.

Disclaimer: I would never kick my cats.  Hard.

Instead, a reflection.  I’m at 70% complete on the Project.  Fascinating.  I’m far enough ahead of schedule that I could significantly scale back my daily goal and still finish ahead of my goal of early August, but of course that defeats the purpose of goals.  No, I will keep on pushing and finish probably in early July, which will be fantastic, assuming of course that things don’t fall into the wood chipper over the summer.

In other news, things may fall into the wood chipper over the summer. Read More »

8 Reasons Why Vibrams are Awesome, No Matter What the Lawsuit Says

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I wrote yesterday about Vibrams and why I’m not going to apply for my portion of the class-action suit against them (and why you shouldn’t either, for that matter).  But I got so angry and sidetracked thinking about how dumb the whole situation is that I didn’t have the time left over to talk about why the VFFs are awesome.  Nope, not just awesome, why the VFFs are my favorite shoe that isn’t a shoe.

Read More »

The ToeBags (or, Why Vibram FiveFingers Aren’t Evil) (or, There Is No Miracle Pill)

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If you’re anything of a running nerd like me, you’re probably aware that Vibram has received some dubious press of late, vis-a-vis a class-action lawsuit that went against them a few weeks back.  They are one purveyor — probably the biggest — of those barefoot-style shoes, the ones that look like fancy socks.  (My wife and I call them the Toe-Bags.)  They’re cashing in, hard, on the minimalist trend that’s coursing through the running community like an electric shock through Frankenstein’s monster.

Toe-Bags. Little bags for your toes.
Toe-Bags. Little bags for your toes.

Apparently Vibram made some claims about things their non-shoes can do without proper science to back it up.  And that’s not cool.  Sorry, if you’re selling a thing, it’s not okay to tell me that your thing can turn me into the ubermensch, make me able to leap tall buildings and sharknado like that, when it does none of those things.  If you’re doing that, as a company, shame on you.

However.

Vibram’s guilt in this goes only so far.  Read More »

Seeds of Insurgence

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Chuck’s challenge of the week: A random picture.

I chose this one:

Watermelon holdup

What can I say, it called to me.  Maybe something about smuggling watermelons since my wife is super pregnant.

I also riffed off a challenge from several weeks back: SomethingPunk, for which I wrote the story “Borrowed Time“.  This one’s more fun, less depressing: FruitPunk.

Hope you like it.

 

Seeds of Insurgence

Larry takes a healthy slurp from his biodegradable cup filled with the newest lime-flavored Nutro-Slam beverage, wipes the froth from his mouth with the back of his meaty hand, and then sucks the froth off his knuckle.  It tastes almost, but not entirely, completely unlike lime.  Travelers file past him in a somber parade, waiting for winged tin cans like the ones dinner comes in to whisk them off to some other part of the world.  To stave off the boredom, he begins concocting backstories for them, one by one.  This one, with the patched overcoat and the limp, saved all his creds for one last trip to see his grandchildren before he dies.  That one, in the flowery dress and boyish haircut, back from college to see her parents and come out of the closet.  He wonders if that makes him a bigot.

A shout shatters his reverie: “GRAPES!”Read More »

Half-Measure

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The Half-Measure is that thing that you do when you know you need to do a thing, but part of you still wants to not have to do the thing, so you do what you have to but you leave the door open for still not doing the thing.  It’s a nonsensical in-between space between making a commitment and wimping out.

The problem with half measures, of course, is that they intrinsically mean you didn’t do the thing that you said you were going to do.  You left a kill switch on it.  You didn’t really pull the trigger.  You didn’t commit.  You said you did, maybe you acted like you did, but you didn’t.

I’m guilty of a lot of half-measures in my life, but there comes a point when you are no longer a child and you have to leave childish things behind.

I’m not going to go into detail here about specifics.  This one’s a little bit personal.  Why, then, post about it at all?   Because I want it on the record, I want some accountability, I need to purge it.  And yeah, I know, it’s a little bit narcissistic and infuriating for a reader of the blog to stumble on this and not be treated to the juicy details.  And yeah, I’ve been known to scorn that sort of thing in the past, and I probably will in the future.  But I’m not taking this to Twitter or facebook, I’m not seeking comments and ego-stroking, I’m not looking for vindication or sympathy.  Lately, at the very least, Writing makes it real, and I need this to be crystal clear to myself.  This blarg is where I purge the thoughts that are clogging the old melon, and this particular clog is one that needs to go.

No more half-measures.

Apologies for the detour.  Regularly scheduled programming will resume.