New Adventure, New Thread (M)

[MadameSarcasm]

I feel like I don't have the right words for you right now. I am glad you have a healthy outlet.

 

[Cthulhu1138]

Your words are always kind and encouraging Madame, and I thank you for them.

 

[sally_sparrow]

Jogging sucks.
It makes every sore, and it hurts nearly the entire time I do it

Jogging helps.
It strengthens every muscle I have, burns calories, and improves my cardiovascular function.

Yesterday, after finally getting home and bidding farewell to all my friends who came out to celebrate our friend's impending nuptials, I got on the treadmill.

I ran for 4 miles, watching a stupid sci-fi movie and letting my mind wander, letting go of the annoyance of being the leader of a pack of men, of dealing with my difficult friend, my angry friend, and my very very picky friend who tends to act like a man child.

I ran and kept running, working off the beer and the rich food, the frustrations I had.

The soreness actually felt good, the pain felt good, sweating felt good.

When I stopped I felt as though I had accomplished something, even if it was simply addressing all the transgressions of 3 days spent being foolish.



I thought back to when I was younger and more fit and much more angry. I remember when I started jogging in college because I realized that just throwing my fists around on the dance floor or in a dark room with loud music wasn't really going to cut it. So I would put on jogging shoes and a pair of jogging shorts and I would run as hard and fast as I could down the middle of the street.

With my lungs feeling like they were exploding and my calves and thighs on fire I would push as hard as I could from one lamp post to the next. I never threw up from a jogging but I definitely felt ill afterwards.

I felt hot, and spent, and exhausted. But it helped
We get to sleep at night, it helped me avoid fights, it cleared my mind.

They say you cannot outrun your problems ( and that includes a bad diet).
But it definitely is therapeutic to try.

Running helps to clear my mind and is an outlet for me also. I hate running on treadmills but there is a 28 mile trail behind my house that I will run on when the weather is nice... No, I do not run the full length of it, but it allows me to keep going a little further than I normally would if it were a circular path.

I love the adrenaline and endorphin rush you get while running. I can blare music through my headphones and I feel like myself. It is a great way to relieve stress... Or too much beer and pizza

 

[Cthulhu1138]

Trail running is much more fun than street jogging, although I need to keep a weather eye out for poisonous plants (I can look at poison ivy and get a rash).

I find that my mind wanders too much when I jog, so I prefer the structure of the treadmill, which allows me to jot notes while still moving, or hop off to start the laundry then hop back on.

Plus I can run in my only my underwear which is always a bonus.

My favorite part of jogging is knowing that I burned some calories--and hitting the stop button.

I cannot conceive of the concept of "too much pizza" which may be why I am a bit soft in the middle.

 

[talikat]

Jogging sucks.
It makes every sore, and it hurts nearly the entire time I do it

Jogging helps.
It strengthens every muscle I have, burns calories, and improves my cardiovascular function.

Yesterday, after finally getting home and bidding farewell to all my friends who came out to celebrate our friend's impending nuptials, I got on the treadmill.

I ran for 4 miles, watching a stupid sci-fi movie and letting my mind wander, letting go of the annoyance of being the leader of a pack of men, of dealing with my difficult friend, my angry friend, and my very very picky friend who tends to act like a man child.

I ran and kept running, working off the beer and the rich food, the frustrations I had.

The soreness actually felt good, the pain felt good, sweating felt good.

When I stopped I felt as though I had accomplished something, even if it was simply addressing all the transgressions of 3 days spent being foolish.



I thought back to when I was younger and more fit and much more angry. I remember when I started jogging in college because I realized that just throwing my fists around on the dance floor or in a dark room with loud music wasn't really going to cut it. So I would put on jogging shoes and a pair of jogging shorts and I would run as hard and fast as I could down the middle of the street.

With my lungs feeling like they were exploding and my calves and thighs on fire I would push as hard as I could from one lamp post to the next. I never threw up from a jogging but I definitely felt ill afterwards.

I felt hot, and spent, and exhausted. But it helped
We get to sleep at night, it helped me avoid fights, it cleared my mind.

They say you cannot outrun your problems ( and that includes a bad diet).
But it definitely is therapeutic to try.

Punching bags work too! I could never run without something behind me, but I'm glad it's something that helps you!

 

[Cthulhu1138]

Punching bags work too! I could never run without something behind me, but I'm glad it's something that helps you!

A punching bag would indeed be outstanding!
Or maybe one of those full body padded martial arts practice dummies.

However, that seems like the kind of investment one makes if they belong to a gym or have lots of cash for a very well-appointed home set up.

History has shown me that I am far too lazy to belong to a gym.

The local ones never seem to be open when I would need, and there are some days off where I have no desire to get off the couch.

The treadmill is there. It is easy.

I generally tell that same joke about jogging, but since I turned 40 I can indeed hear frailty, weakness, and old age lurching and creeping behind me, inexorably chasing me.

Jogging keeps me one step ahead

 

[Cthulhu1138]

Prophylaxis

The doctor makes me wait
(Like Lou said "1st thing you learn is that you always gotta wait.")

I tell him my concerns, ask my questions.

It all seems so dismissive and yet so drawn out.

Perhaps that is the problem going to a man so close to my own age.

But I get the referrals I want.
Last step is the shot.

The thing meant to make me strong and not strange, administered by the sexy LatinX nurse with the incredibly pert, firm rump.

She asks me the set of questions and I try to be clever. I have answered them every year the same.

An alcohol wipe on my arm, a quick warm spark of, well not pain, but an odd pinch inside my flesh. All the same year to year.

The pretty nurse with long dark hair and an amazing ass starts to rub the spot where the needle went in.

This is new.

Is this some odd form of flirting? Sizing up my muscle tone with a gauze patch in some semblance of health care?

I ask "is that to help work the vaccine in," I ask, looking at her as she readies a bandage.

"Yes, and to help with the bleeding."


There is no blood that I can see, so the reasons will remain unknown, like her name and her feelings, if any, for me.

Let us hope that they picked the right strain...

 

[talikat]

The doctor makes me wait
(Like Lou said "1st thing you learn is that you always gotta wait.")

I tell him my concerns, ask my questions.

It all seems so dismissive and yet so drawn out.

Perhaps that is the problem going to a man so close to my own age.

But I get the referrals I want.
Last step is the shot.

The thing meant to make me strong and not strange, administered by the sexy LatinX nurse with the incredibly pert, firm rump.

She asks me the set of questions and I try to be clever. I have answered them every year the same.

An alcohol wipe on my arm, a quick warm spark of, well not pain, but an odd pinch inside my flesh. All the same year to year.

The pretty nurse with long dark hair and an amazing ass starts to rub the spot where the needle went in.

This is new.

Is this some odd form of flirting? Sizing up my muscle tone with a gauze patch in some semblance of health care?

I ask "is that to help work the vaccine in," I ask, looking at her as she readies a bandage.

"Yes, and to help with the bleeding."


There is no blood that I can see, so the reasons will remain unknown, like her name and her feelings, if any, for me.

Let us hope that they picked the right strain...

The fur in this shot is outstanding!

 

[Cthulhu1138]

The fur in this shot is outstanding!

Thanks! I grew is myself!

(Okay, mom or dad may have helped a little bit)


More and more of it has been turning gray. I never even knew that was a thing that could happen.

Ah, the subtle joys of aging!

 

[Cthulhu1138]

Red flags & remembrance


The past two days have been bone chillingly cold. I have felt it when I've been outside on my bicycle and even felt it standing next to the window in our house.

Such cold weather reminds me of a beautiful woman I once knew.

It reminds me of her little bunny face, her dark expressive eyes (and the fact that I could stand eye to eye to her when we actually met before I pulled her close to me and held her as tightly as I could), her dark, full brows that would furrow when she told me about all the red flags I set off for her. I remember how we made each other warm in the backseat of her car on a hot sultry summer day, how sweaty we were but happy for a quiet place to be together.

I have not spoken to her in far too long and most likely never will again, but I think about how I would give anything to be seated in front of her warm cozy fireplace next to her.

 

[Cthulhu1138]

Legacy

I am visiting my father again for the first time in years.

12 years ago I helped him move, from a large suburban house chock full of useless junk to a small farmhouse.
I spent a week removing unused things and expired food from the house in which I grew up.

I found out earlier this week that he had "close to a heart attack," so I decided to visit.

He has spent the past decade repeating all his old mistakes, so again I find myself in a house crammed full of junk.

Junk he let my hoarder/shopping addict mother buy and stuff in to this house.

I feel sad.

I feel frustrated.

I feel angry.

I feel cheated.

Cheated out of an inheritance, cheated out of happiness, cheated out of a normal upbringing and a life devoid of all-consuming rage and animosity for the people who raised me.

I tell people that I thrived in spite of my parents, not because of them.

Nietzsche said "that which does not kill us makes us stronger."

More correctly, it makes us stranger, it leaves us maimed and scarred and odd.

I found a bracelet and put it on (have been thinking of making one for myself anyway).

I feel trapped by my past and constrained by my future tied to these people who have become strangers.

 

[talikat]

The past two days have been bone chillingly cold. I have felt it when I've been outside on my bicycle and even felt it standing next to the window in our house.

Such cold weather reminds me of a beautiful woman I once knew.

It reminds me of her little bunny face, her dark expressive eyes (and the fact that I could stand eye to eye to her when we actually met before I pulled her close to me and held her as tightly as I could), her dark, full brows that would furrow when she told me about all the red flags I set off for her. I remember how we made each other warm in the backseat of her car on a hot sultry summer day, how sweaty we were but happy for a quiet place to be together.

I have not spoken to her in far too long and most likely never will again, but I think about how I would give anything to be seated in front of her warm cozy fireplace next to her.

On the plus side, she's a good memory!

I am visiting my father again for the first time in years.

12 years ago I helped him move, from a large suburban house chock full of useless junk to a small farmhouse.
I spent a week removing unused things and expired food from the house in which I grew up.

I found out earlier this week that he had "close to a heart attack," so I decided to visit.

He has spent the past decade repeating all his old mistakes, so again I find myself in a house crammed full of junk.

Junk he let my hoarder/shopping addict mother buy and stuff in to this house.

I feel sad.

I feel frustrated.

I feel angry.

I feel cheated.

Cheated out of an inheritance, cheated out of happiness, cheated out of a normal upbringing and a life devoid of all-consuming rage and animosity for the people who raised me.

I tell people that I thrived in spite of my parents, not because of them.

Nietzsche said "that which does not kill us makes us stronger."

More correctly, it makes us stranger, it leaves us maimed and scarred and odd.

I found a bracelet and put it on (have been thinking of making one for myself anyway).

I feel trapped by my past and constrained by my future tied to these people who have become strangers.

My dad told me once to use the knife that people stab you with to cut the cord and set yourself free from them. Best thing I ever did was exactly that!

Hugs!

 

[Cthulhu1138]

On the plus side, she's a good memory!


My dad told me once to use the knife that people stab you with to cut the cord and set yourself free from them. Best thing I ever did was exactly that!

Hugs!

Thank you my sweet Tali, I appreciate your support.


One issue I have found is that people are much less supportive of such moves when the toxic people are your parents.

I think that self preservation trump's filial obligation. Perhaps that makes me a bad person.

It definitely makes me a bad son...

 

[sally_sparrow]

Thank you my sweet Tali, I appreciate your support.


One issue I have found is that people are much less supportive of such moves when the toxic people are your parents.

I think that self preservation trump's filial obligation. Perhaps that makes me a bad person.

It definitely makes me a bad son...

It doesn't make you a bad son. It makes you realize you don't want to repeat their mistakes. Just because you're family doesn't mean you have to love each other, or even talk to each other. I have certain people in my life that I consider closer family than my actual family members.

 

[Cthulhu1138]

It doesn't make you a bad son. It makes you realize you don't want to repeat their mistakes. Just because you're family doesn't mean you have to love each other, or even talk to each other. I have certain people in my life that I consider closer family than my actual family members.

Sitting in the local Culver's (a guilty pleasure whenever I am in Wisconsin) with my father, there was some "quirky" art on the walls. At the booth where we ate, the art on the wall was a picture of two women sharing a smile and the below them the words "friends are the family we give to ourselves."

It made me thankful for the friends that I have, and seems to be quite apt for several people.

 

[talikat]

Thank you my sweet Tali, I appreciate your support.


One issue I have found is that people are much less supportive of such moves when the toxic people are your parents.

I think that self preservation trump's filial obligation. Perhaps that makes me a bad person.

It definitely makes me a bad son...

What you tolerate, will continue. Son or not, to thine own self be true.

 

[Cthulhu1138]

Thank you Tali.

I think that what hurts most is believing the lie that my father was willing to change, to be a slightly better person.

Both of my parents are at an age where I need to start researching senior care.

That will be another unpleasant battle.

 

[Cthulhu1138]

Addictive substances

I am beginning to suspect that addiction runs in my family.

My mother is addicted to shopping.

My father (inexplicably) seems addicted to my mother and the prospect of her love.

I am addicted to rage.

On the drive back home, Public Radio had a section on anger. It featured an interview with David Brin about how even mental states like rage or self-righteous indignation can create neural pathways in to the reward center of our brain identical to those that heroin creates.

I think that seeing my parents is like going to visit an old dealer when I have sworn that I was going to live clean


In order to "choose life" I must choose not to interact with them...

 

[sally_sparrow]

I am beginning to suspect that addiction runs in my family.

My mother is addicted to shopping.

My father (inexplicably) seems addicted to my mother and the prospect of her love.

I am addicted to rage.

On the drive back home, Public Radio had a section on anger. It featured an interview with David Brin about how even mental states like rage or self-righteous indignation can create neural pathways in to the reward center of our brain identical to those that heroin creates.

I think that seeing my parents is like going to visit an old dealer when I have sworn that I was going to live clean


In order to "choose life" I must choose not to interact with them...

That is a very profound realization. Breaking addictive habits can be incredibly challenging but it's good that you recognize the cause, no matter how much that may hurt (or not).

 

[Cthulhu1138]

Thank you Sally!

It definitely hurts to be judged for choosing my own happiness over a toxic obligation ("but she's your mother," is not a valid reason to endure emotional trauma in my mind).

These days no one asks about my folks, and I find it works best not to mention them.

I did my best to walk away from the anger and the strife.

I am happier for it.

 

[Cthulhu1138]

As a thank you to all my visitors for your patience and support.

I appreciate you enduring my rants and whinges

 

[Cthulhu1138]

ALTered States

Are you now, or have you ever been, you?

I have been thinking about "alts" lately.

Another online community I frequent has someone who is actually doing a dissertation on alts, how people use them, how it affects others and what it says about the original person, even after they have been "outed."

A little while ago, I saw a post from someone and a chill ran down my back at the thought that they were an alternate profile for someone (whom I know).

I will never know for sure, but it creeps me out to think about, like the remake of "The Thing."

Why did they do it?
What does it say about me that I even suspect that?

These are the thoughts that I have with too much time on my hands

 

[sally_sparrow]

Are you now, or have you ever been, you?

I have been thinking about "alts" lately.

Another online community I frequent has someone who is actually doing a dissertation on alts, how people use them, how it affects others and what it says about the original person, even after they have been "outed."

A little while ago, I saw a post from someone and a chill ran down my back at the thought that they were an alternate profile for someone (whom I know).

I will never know for sure, but it creeps me out to think about, like the remake of "The Thing."

Why did they do it?
What does it say about me that I even suspect that?

These are the thoughts that I have with too much time on my hands

I'm sure it happens more often than we know. I've never had an alt, but I'm sure people do it for a variety of reasons. I would be interested in reading a dissertation like that- it sounds like an interesting study!

Edited to add a thought- this reminds me of J.K. Rowling and how she uses a completely different name to write an adult mystery series. It's good too. I didn't realize it was actually her until I came across something that said so. Blew me away!

 

[Cthulhu1138]

Sally, I can PM you a link to the work the person is doing on alts.

I have never had one either. I am probably just an odd old man seeing spooks and goblins in the shadows.

Still, it got me thinking, and I learned how to use a new feature on my photo app! So I have that going for me.

I vaguely remember that Ms. Rowling wrote a few mystery novels.

I enjoyed the first of her wizard books, but always felt that her villians were incredibly one dimensional.

 

[MadameSarcasm]

Thank you Sally!

It definitely hurts to be judged for choosing my own happiness over a toxic obligation ("but she's your mother," is not a valid reason to endure emotional trauma in my mind).

These days no one asks about my folks, and I find it works best not to mention them.

I did my best to walk away from the anger and the strife.

I am happier for it.

Sometimes, we have to close doors in our lives. I have three or four friends who made that decision regarding their toxic parents, and all reported how much better their lives became once they no longer had to pour their emotional energy into a void that would never be filled.

I wish you well with your journey, sir.