You know, for as much as I think about things, very little ever gets put to paper, or rather, to screen. I often find myself, at various points during the day or night thinking about random stuff that, at that moment, seems interesting, engaging, and compelling, but if I don’t at least jot something down, I either lose interest in it or completely forget what it was I was thinking about in the first place.
It’s a similar phenomenon to that of dreaming, I suppose. You sleep, dream, and, upon waking, can, for the briefest of moments, recall with startling clarity the events of your last (or most vivid) dream, but, unless the dream is, for whatever reason, particularly memorable, the image of it fades within moments of waking.
Maybe my thoughts are the dreams of other sleepers, and I can only consider them for as long as the dreamer is asleep. Would that then mean that writers write the dreams of other writers, and architects build the dreams of other architects? Are we all caught in a real-world manifestation of Inception? If such is the case then, can this, what we assume to be reality, even be considered real-world? Are we mannequins pulled to and fro by the ethereal strings of some Brobdingnagian sleeper, or, to tumble down another rabbit hole, the children of a Dr. Manhatten-esque creator being?
Maybe, maybe not.
In either case, it is, to me at least, an interesting thought.
I have been fortunate enough to find myself in a relationship with a wonderful young lady, which, as with most things, came about by sheer happenstance and cosmic fortune. I spoke of this phenomenon in either my last post or the one before it, but I’ll touch on it again, and perhaps even expand upon it.
Chaos, it seems, has been, ironically, in control of my life for the last year and a half. As the quote goes, “It has been said that something as small as the flutter of a butterfly’s wing can ultimately cause a typhoon halfway around the world.” Chaos has held and carried me within its roiling essence since August 2009, when the relationship I had imagined to go the distance came to a startlingly abrupt end. From there I joined a football team and subsequently broke my ankle. I was relieved of an employment obligation, which then allowed me to seek out something new and more suited to my tastes. I found Camp Chipinaw and spent 8 crazy weeks teaching lacrosse to rich Jewish children. Fast forward from there, and here I am today. I didn’t plan for any of this–not football, not camp, not Missouri, not this internship, not this relationship.
But, I am, in all ways, immensely pleased and grateful that it all happened the way it did. I used to consider what it (my life) might have been life, might still be like today, had my relationship with Jessica not ended when it did. I imagine I’d still be in Tacoma working some job just to get by rather than pursuing something I really love and want to do. Would I be happy? Probably. But would I have had the opportunity to do all those things? Definitely not. So, in a way, I suppose that, as time and events have moved forward and I’ve allowed myself to fully accept and reconcile the hand dealt to me in Tacoma, I’ve come to feel grateful to her for cutting me loose and letting me find my own way. I fully believe that, had she not, I would have been content to simply follow her along her way until I managed to find something for myself.
Companionship is a different sort of creature. We spend our entire lives in search of that someone, that one person who, we believe, will fill the wholes and gaps and voids inherent in being sentient, cognizant beings. But how much are we missing out on for ourselves by always looking outward or at other people? Don’t get me wrong, I love being in a relationship and having someone there for me and with me, and I believe that the ability to love someone else is one of our greatest accomplishments as a species, but, not accounting for the procreation and success of our species, is it necessary? Must we find a steady companion in order to fully experience all that life has to offer us? Or do we simply believe that to be the case? Life is, ever and always, what one makes of it. If one believes that companionship, hetero or homo, platonic or sexual, is the capstone to a whole and happy life, then it is such. The same can be said for one who believes happiness can be found in relative isolation or solitariness. We are however, a species that, regardless of race, religion, creed or color, places a massive emphasis on companionship (whether mono or poly) that any deviation is seen as relatively inflammatory. We seek out solitary individuals and, always in the spirit of altruism and goodwill, press upon them our companionship. Take the idea of visiting people in retirements homes. We, the outside, take it upon ourselves to breach the inside and spend time with the elderly in the belief that because they are old and either removed from their families or are without the affection of a significant other.
I won’t go so far as to assume that these old folks aren’t lonely or in need of companionship, but think about it–we spend our entire lives absolutely surrounded by other people. Parents, then friends, then lover(s), then children, then their children–not to mention the multitude of coworkers, teammates, and random faceless strangers who pass us by everyday. We spend our lives in such social immersion that, given the chance, who wouldn’t relish the opportunity to be alone? Life can be, even at my age, overwhelming at times, and I know that a moment to myself is worth my weight in gold, which, according to OnlyGold.com is $4,789,640.52. Yup, I’m a pricey sum’bitch.
Anyway–my mind’s getting fatigued…someone must be waking up somewhere. So, on to weights.
As always, I pulled on Monday. The weight felt a little heavier than I expected, but that’s probably because I hadn’t eaten before lifting. Overall, the session went well. Not my best performance, but certainly not my worst.
Deadlift: 370×3, 420×3, 470×6, 275x5x10
Benched on Tuesday. Again, the weight felt heavy but moved well enough.
Bench: 200×3, 230×3, 255×8, 205x5x10
Squatted on Thursday. I always seem to talk myself out of squatting early in the day, but then come around to it later. I was pretty damn please with this session. Started off pretty awful, but once I loosened up everything went great.
Squat: 300×3, 345×3, 390×7 (PR), 225x5x10.
Starting next week I’ll be doing a more structured program. Right now I basically just do the main movement then dick around without any rhyme or reason. Having some structure will be good as I prepare for camp. My bodyweight is in the 230-235 range right now, and if I start getting more organized in my lifting, I know that number will go up. I’m shooting for a steady 240 by the end of April. Definitely doable.
Ok, folks. Bed time. Thanks for reading.
Stay yoked and loked.