December 31, 2007

December 2007



Highlights: Where do I begin? I got to spend five flawless days with best friends Josh and Justin in Denver. We got up to no good and managed to get kicked out of a ski resort. It was wonderful. For Christmas, we left the sun to spend five days with our families. BTW - The last minute plane tickets were purchased just after watching the ridiculously sentimental "Family Stone." It was a great celebration and a much needed time with family. I even squeezed in a delicious breakfast with an old professor (old works both ways). :)

All in all, 2007 was one of our best years.







December Films:
  • Fred Clause - 5/10
  • The Savages - 6/10
  • Juno - 8/10
  • Atonement - 7/10
  • I Am Legend - 3/10
  • Charlie Wilson's War - 6/10
  • National Treasure - 2/10
  • Dan in Real Life - 5/10
  • The Kite Runner - 7/10

    December Reading:
  • Cat's Cradle - 6/10 - Kurt Vonnegut
  • Me Talk Pretty One Day - 3/10 - David Sedaris
  • What is the What - 8/10 - Dave Eggars
  • LA Times - Thursday to Sunday
  • Time/Rolling Stone

    December Miles:
  • 102.2 miles or 3.29 mpd
  • December 21, 2007

    I wanted all things
    To seem to make some sense,
    So we all could be happy, yes,
    Instead of tense.
    And I made up lies
    So that they all fit nice,
    And I made this sad world
    A par-a-dise

    - Cat's Cradle, Kurt Vonnegut, 90

    December 11, 2007

    There was a quotation from the Books of Bokonon on the page before me. Those words leapt from the page and into my mind, and they were welcomed there.

    The words were a paraphrase of the suggestion by Jesus: “Render therefore unto Caesar the things which are Caesar’s.”

    Bokonon’s paraphrase was this:

    “Pay not to attention to Caesar. Caesar doesn’t have the slightest idea what’s really going on.”

    - Cat’s Cradle, Kurt Vonnegut, 73

    December 3, 2007

    Gym Euphoria



    You want to hear something true and only semi-related to the rest of this post? I have never, ever, regretted going to the gym. Not once have I walked out the gym doors after a workout and thought to myself, “Well, that was a waist of time.” (For the record, I always feel this way after eating ice cream, sitting on the Internet for too long or after paying to watch Pirates of the Caribbean 3 a few months ago.)

    I like going to the gym. I especially like enduring the sweat and smells at night - late at night - when very few 24-hour fitness patrons are visible. I feel like I have the place to myself. The pool is calm. There are fewer people around to see how little I can actually bench press. And I can hop on the stair climber without waiting in line. It’s like an after hours party at Disney World. But the real benefit about coordinating my workout with Conan’s opening monologue is that I see more obese people at night. And for a variety of reasons, this always gives me pleasure in a classic bittersweet sort of way. Bitter because you don’t see these people during busy hours. I assume at least some come at night to fight off insecurities and stares. But sweet in that there is something inspiring about seeing a middle age fat guy running his ass off on a treadmill.

    I admire these people who have somehow managed over the years to get in over their head. I admire the way they run and lift and sweat. And I’m glad they come at night.

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