There is no such thing as fiction. Every story we ever hear, every legend that ever enters our hearts, is as real and true as fact.

No matter how much we try to grasp at the truths of life, we end up as miserably misguided as people sometimes. We often end up going astray. When gazing back on our lives, we all realize that the truths we once believed were often lies. The people we thought we knew, we didn't know at all. The people we thought meant little to us ended up being significant players in our life's game.

So when "fiction" presents itself, telling us something real and true and significant -- something that transcends the lies that we find in fact and history and experience -- it is true to exactly that degree. Something is always true inasmuch as it holds truth in it.

Re-telling, history, and even memory are always simplified attempts at totalization. In other words, they are by their nature false to the exact same degree that an invented story is false.

There is no such thing as fiction. Only stories, whether they be histories or memories or inventions, which can speak lies, or can speak eternal truths.

I decided to change the structure of my weigh-ins. Instead of doing an official monthly weigh-in (and basically weighing myself every flippin' day to see how I'm progressing) I'm going to do a weekly weigh-in, weekly goals, and only weigh myself in once per week.

This is largely a motivation thing. It eliminates some of the worry with weight fluctuation, and if I don't meet a goal, I will feel like I'm only set back one week, instead of one month.

So, starting with Friday's weigh-in, which was 244, I'm going to do weekly weigh-ins. I'm also going to add a third goal. It's one I don't expect myself to reach, but I'd like to shoot for it. Here's the basics on it:

• Goal #1 (Standard Goal): .5% of body weight per week
• Goal #2 (High Goal): .75% of body weight per week
• Goal #3 (Epic Goal): 1% of body weight per week

So, right now, that means 1.25lbs per week for Goal #1 (1lb visible on the scales), 1.83lbs per week for Goal #2 (2lbs visible on the scales), and 2.44lbs per week for Goal #3 (2.5lbs visible on the scales). So my goal for next Friday is 243, 242, 241.5.

My major weight benchmarks, and the time to achieve them dependent on which goal set I'm meeting are:

• 230lbs (the 50% mark)
  
  • Goal 1 Time: 12 weeks
    
  • Goal 2 Time: 8 weeks
    
  • Goal 3 Time: 6 weeks
    
• 204lbs (the 66% mark)
  
  • Goal 1 Time: 35 weeks (all week numbers are totals from here)
    
  • Goal 2 Time: 24 weeks
    
  • Goal 3 Time: 18 weeks
    
• 191lbs (the 75% mark)
  
  • Goal 1 Time: 48 weeks
    
  • Goal 2 Time: 33 weeks
    
  • Goal 3 Time: 25 weeks
    
• 176lbs (the 85% mark)
  
  • Goal 1 Time: 64 weeks
    
  • Goal 2 Time: 44 weeks
    
  • Goal 3 Time: 33 weeks
• 166lbs (the 92% mark)
  
  • Goal 1 Time: 76 weeks
    
  • Goal 2 Time: 52 weeks
    
  • Goal 3 Time: 39 weeks
• 153lbs (Ideal Weight)
  
  • Goal 1 Time: 92 weeks
    
  • Goal 2 Time: 63 weeks
    
  • Goal 3 Time: 47 weeks

I'm 29 weeks in thus far, and have trimmed off 25% of my body's weight, which means I've been meeting my High Goal, on average. This means that, at my current pace, it will be 63 weeks (or about 1 year, 3 months) before I'm at my ideal weight.

Some other things I'm wanting to track and/or look forward to are certain time benchmarks.

Where I'll be 3 months (13 weeks) from now:

• With Goal #1: 229lbs
  
• With Goal #2: 221lbs
  
• With Goal #3: 214lbs
  

Where I'll be 6 months (26 weeks) from now:

• With Goal #1: 214lbs
  
• With Goal #2: 201lbs
  
• With Goal #3: 189lbs
  

Where I'll be 1 year (52 weeks) from now:

• With Goal #1: 187lbs
  
• With Goal #2: 166lbs
  
• With Goal #3: 153lbs (that goal would be reached at 47 weeks, actually -- or about 11 months out)

This means that in one year, even if I only reach my standard goal each week, I'll be a weight where I like the way I look. If I reach my high goal, I'll be thinner than I've been since about Freshman Year of Highschool in one year. If I reach my elite goal, I'll be the weight I was in 7th grade -- but, you know, taller and with more muscle.

Yet another way to state all this is that I've been at this for 29 weeks. That means with Goal #1, I'm about 24% of the way towards my eventual goal in time-frame, with Goal #2 I'm about 32% of the way, and with Goal #3 I'm about 38% of the way.

I know these little charts and calculations don't do you guys much good, and are boring to read, but I like them! They help keep me motivated, and remembering where I'm headed.

Here are reasons I love my new apartment:

• When I walk into my room, my bass it out and plugged in, so I remember to play it.
• The place is furnished. It's been way too long since I had my own bed!
  
• I have bookshelves and a desk and, overall, a good little area to study inside my room.
• It's three blocks from UVU.
• There's a weight-room here with some good cardio equipment.
• There's a pool.
• Everyone I've met here so far has been really cool to me.
• My roommates are actually very mature (one is heading towards finishing his Master's -- he's very cool -- and the other's a bit of a recluse, but I'll get to him in time).
• There's a club-house with fooseball and billiards.
• I have enough space in my room to do yoga without issue.
  
• My roommates are quite clean, and so far we've rotated doing tasks (like garbage, dishes, etc.) very smoothly.
• The shower is high-power, and hot water does not run out quickly.
• I only have to share the bathroom with one other person.
• It's only $313 including all utilities (and I mean including gas, electric, cable, internet, garbage, sewage, water, etc.). That's year-round on my contract, by the way -- not just Summer.
• During the Fall, there's a shuttle that goes from here to UVU that's going to save me the parking fees at UVU.
• There's always a parking spot right next to my door, and from my room, I can lock my car and hear the beep. Paranoia satisfied!
  
• My apartment's door is right on the first floor, six feet from the sidewalk.
• I have a place where I can hang up shirts -- at long last!
• The kitchen is great to cook things in. Most all the stuff I've talked about making I made in the kitchen here. It's definitely well equipped enough for my purposes.
• Everyone else here is a student, so it's a good little "networking" opportunity, to find out about teachers, find people who are taking the same classes, get textbooks, whatever. It also means it'll be easier to be in the student mindset.
• It's about two blocks from a freeway entrance. Uber!
• It's not just squares and rectangles for everything here. I mean, there's some angles in the design of the house. Appeals to the feng shui aspect for me!

I'm really very happy with it. ^_^

So, I'm trying to get into a new habit (and so far so good!) of making my own food. Now that I have an apartment where I can actually do that effectively, I want to take advantage of it, saving money and getting higher quality food with less preservatives.

I'm really liking it, actually. The cooking of the meals takes about the same amount of time as waiting for the food to be made at some restaurant. My average eating out meal costs me $8, all things included. My meals that I've made for myself (and they're generous meals with top quality, organic ingredients) are averaging $2.25.

I'm not talking Peanut Butter Sandwiches, either. Here are some of the meals I'm making for myself:

• Oatmeal with Almond Butter & Brown Sugar (that's a very cheap, and very good meal)
• Portabello Mushroom Sandwhich - a portabello mushroom marinated with basalmic vinagrette, basil, and thyme, on a ciabatta bread loaf, topped with honey-mustard sauce and spinach.
• Spinach salad - topped with mushrooms, sprouts, and basalmic vinagrette, and a side of a sliced multigrain baguette with an oil and basalmic dip.
  
• Veggie sandwhich - fried onions, mushrooms, and peppers, flavored with garlic and cayenne, stuffed into a ciabatta bread loaf.

I'm going to whip up my other Portabello Mushroom for lunch, the same as last time, but with fried up onions on tpo this time.

This is actually a ton of fun! If I'm spending $2.25 for meals that would normally cost me $8, I'm going to save a ludicrous amount of money. Plus, I enjoy it more! My stuff isn't quite as good as the stuff I buy when I eat out yet, but I'll get there before long.

Anywho, just wanted to let you guys know. Peace, all!

Today's issue is a showdown!

Diamonds versus coal.

Let's go ahead and get this thing started with -- A SIMPLE QUESTION!: (and the crowd goes WILD!)

It's one I proposed at work. I asked "If you could have a one carat diamond, or ten pounds of coal, what would you have?"

They all seemed to think there was some sort of trick question. They asked what quality of diamond? I said an ideal hearts and arrows cut, round, a vvs-1 inclusion on its clarity, and F colorless.

What sort of coal? Well, normal, average, every day coal.

Several of them answered that they didn't know -- they needed to research the exact value of the coal. They needed to figure out if maybe it was worth more. One said he was pretty sure he would just take the coal. I myself said -- well, the diamond, of course.

But I think most people, if they don't think I'm presenting a trick question, would go for the diamond, not the coal.

Well, what if it's not 10lbs, but 100lbs of coal?

Still the diamond? Okay, well then, not 100, but 1000lbs?
Not 1000, but 10,000?
Have you changed your mind yet? Taking the big thing of coal?

Well, let's look at what the right choice is, and when it's right to change your mind to our favorite stocking stuffer. Based on my experience, that diamond I described is worth about $10,000. I just did some research, too, to verify, and found one equivalent for $11,800 (it wasn't hearts and arrows, but it was IF, not VVS1).

And how much is coal worth? Average coal? Normal coal? Well, the high-grade stuff is about $45/ton. The low-grade is about $10/ton. The average is about $17/ton.

How many pounds of coal would be worth this diamond, then? How much until the coal is finally the right choice?

1,338,236lbs. That's right. Almost a million and a half pounds before its worthwhile. And even then, I take the diamond! Where am I going to put a million and a half pounds of coal?

But the entire thing . . . all of this . . . it's a preamble to my point.

People are obsessed with living a long time. A lot of people are really obsessed with the notion of an afterlife (nothing wrong with the idea, don't get me wrong, but let me draw to my point). People want to think that they'll keep existing and existing, in some form or another, on and on and on. Their conscious self continuing.

But it's not the time we're alive that matters. It's not the amount of time we exist that really determines whether it's worthwhile. It's all about the quality of that existence. I'd rather live one life right then live a thousand lives wrong. I'd rather have one lifetime full of joy than a million full of misery.

We all like this concept of afterlife, but what if it doesn't exist? Is that really the worst case scenario? I think not. The worst case scenario is living life wrong. If you don't get it right this time, what makes you think that some "heaven" will fix things? By not living this life in joy, in peace, in goodness, you're asking for a million pounds of coal instead of one glistening diamond.

So that's my advice. Live well. Live right now. Make it count.
Take the diamond.

Guys, guys -- seriously, I just have to say -- this tastes SO GOOD.

It's my normal breakfast now. Oatmeal (high quality stuff, even -- not just Quaker) with almond butter (like peanut butter, but with almost -- about the same health content, but I like the flavor better) and brown sugar (again, high quality organic type stuff).

It just tastes totally delicious. You have to try this stuff. Best of all -- this is 110% healthy. Like, 10g of fiber, 18g of protein, and all of the fats and sugars in it are the right type.

^_^ Life is good!

My entries recently have been REALLY FLIPPIN LONG!

Oops.
My bad.
;)

One of those fun lessons to learn in life is that, sometimes, bad fortune is the best sort of fortune you can have.

I'm not necessarily meaning at casinos (but even then -- by the way, I only lost $40 including bus fare when I went to Wendover on Saturday. It was a fun night. ^_^) or when you're basing something entirely on your luck. I mean in life in general.

For example, my current living situation. I was living with two friends (who are brothers), who were renting an attic from their step-dad. When my two friends decided to move to Oregon, their step-dad (Bart) originally told me he would probably be able to rent the apartment just to me for $500, and that I could find some roommates.

Now, the house is run down, falling apart in several ways, and the heat in the summer was going to be bad -- but I didn't mind all that. I was just going to rent it from him and be satisfied with the low, low price, and the convenient location in regards to my work.

As of a couple weeks ago, I started trying to talk to him officially about all this, but he seemed to be either avoiding me, or just by chance not being in the right room at the right time. I left messages with him that I wanted to talk to him, but he didn't respond. Finally, I caught him as he was getting out of his car on Saturday. I told him we needed to figure out the living situation.

He asked me what I wanted to do, and I let him know I wanted to rent the apartment at the $500 we previously discussed, and that I was going to take over the "master bedroom." He informed me that . . . whoops . . . that wouldn't work. You see, he wanted to move back to the attic while the downstairs was remodeled, and one other guy his age wanted to move back up there, too. He said that with their age, they simply wouldn't want to be roommates with me, since we have "incompatible lifestyles" (I think his way of saying "because you're a liberal," since I snapped at him once for making some blanket statements about our current president, telling him that he was grossly misinformed).

I said that was okay, even though it wasn't what I preferred (and I was a bit agitated by this point), but that I could move out with one months notice, as we had originally agreed upon. He said that if I was going to stay one month, until the 20th, I would need to find two roommates to take over for that one month, when my two existing roommates had moved. Two roommates -- to stay with me for one month -- and pay their part of rent. He also let me know that he'd really known that I'd have to move out for two weeks, so it would be best if I could just leave as soon as possible after his step-sons left.

Yipes. At this point, I was ready to cuss up a storm. Instead I looked at him and said "I'm disappointed in the lack of communication and the lack of notice. If you knew two weeks ago, you definitely should have told me then. Bart, I've been completely responsible to you, and you've failed to be responsible to me. But that's fine. I've paid you through June. I'll move out by July 1st."

He tried to talk to me, explaining that he wasn't being irresponsible to me, but that his step-sons were being irresponsible by moving out. I let him know that it wasn't between the four of us, but a personal responsibility between him and me, and that I had lived up to my end of things -- he hadn't. He kept trying to give excuses, but I just interrupted him and said "No, Bart. We're not discussing this. I don't care what your reasons are. I'm moving out by the end of the month. That's it. We're done."

He kept trying to go on one more time. "No, Bart. We're done. I'm headed out of the house for a while. Bye." And I stood and left, needing to cool down. Obviously. The worst part for me was feeling like, despite the fact that the guy was twice my age, he was less mature than me. He wasn't taking responsibility. Never once did he apologize -- only provide excuse upon excuse.

So this was agitating, certainly. This was my bad fortune. My plans would no longer work out. But today I decided I'd check out places by UVU to see if anything good was available.

I went up to the Village on the Parkway, and when I got there they told me that they had one room left, taking over the lease of a guy who got evicted, and that it was a one year contract for $313/month, including all utilities. This place has a pool (I've been wanted to swim more), an exercise room, a free shuttle service to UVU, it's right off the freeway, it's furnished, and the room is private. Oh, and it's about four blocks from UVU campus and Walmart.

For those of you who don't, that's a fantastic price for a place like that. They said it was lucky I came in -- those lease takovers go fast, and the guy had just barely been evicted.

So, here's what it came down to. Perhaps I was angry with Bart for his immaturity, but if he hadn't booted me out, I wouldn't have had to look for a new place. If he hadn't delayed and delayed to exactly when he did, I wouldn't have found this good of a deal. If he had been mature and communicated and been responsible to me, my situation wouldn't be as good. As a result this misfortune I:

• Have a place closer to UVU (since that's where I'll be going in the mornings, this is going to save me a lot of gas).
• Have a place to swim, like I've been looking to do.
• Have a place that's much higher quality.
• Have a private room, which is what I've been wanting for a while.
• Have a room at a discounted price that I'll easily be able to sell the contract for, if needed.
  
• Have generally improved my living situation, all around.

"Sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together" was the Marilyn Monroe way of saying this. It's a valuable lesson to me! One I've already learned, but that it was time to re-learn.

No fortune is necessarily good or bad fortune. We have to wait and see if it's good or bad. I regret being angry with Bart. He was just the tool of the Universe to put me into a better situation. The big lesson for me is this:

Do not worry about controlling the Universe. You can't do that, you will fail, and you will submit yourself to unneeded pain. Worry, instead, about putting yourself in the right place. All else will come to you when you have succeeded in this. When a man is at the mountain, he does not need to worry about the mountain trudging towards him. So it is with the Universe. Bring yourself into a place of joy, and the Universe will accomodate. Assuming that the Universe will change your situation from one of pain to one of joy while you are in a place of pain is the same as assuming that the mountain will come to you if you want it bad enough. It is not so -- it is our responsibility to go ourselves.

So long as we are putting ourselves in a place of joy, we will not need to be concerned with whether good fortune or bad fortune is ours. Bad fortune will be good when we are in a place of joy, and good fortune will turn sour if we are in a place of pain. Our responsibility is only to ourselves, and we need not be concerned with the actions, mistakes, or distresses caused by others.

The End!

~Rob Tenken~

Haha -- this thought came to me, and it made me giggle at myself (but in an oh so manly way) so I thought I'd share it.

I like doing things I'm good at. At my job, the thing I like most is that I feel that I'm really very good at what I do. I write because I feel I have the talent for it, and like I can really impact each other. And I was thinking that this is one of the reasons I've gotten engaged twice.

I like doing what I'm good at, and hell, it's something I do well. The first time, Kayla, I told her that I was getting her promise ring re-sized. It was just this little dinky thing we'd gotten at Walmart, but it didn't fit her anymore -- her fingers were getting smaller, she was losing weight. So I told her I wanted to get it re-sized. When I told her I had her ring, with her thinking I meant the promise ring, I pulled out a mahogany box that contained a custom-designed interweave of bands, an ideal cut third-carot hearts and arrows diamond, and the inscription "Forever Young."

That first wedding was supposed to be phenomenal, of course, but also simple. There was a rose theme. We were going to serve rose milk and hershies kisses. Each table would have three roses on it -- two red, one white. There would be rose incense, and it would be by a lake, past sunset, where rose candles would be floating, illuminating the area.

Not bad, but I did better on the second time. I told Steph that I wanted to take a spontaneous roadtrip. I wanted to get out of town. I wanted to go someplace spectacular. She agreed to come with me. We hit the road, letting our shadows fall behind us as I drove us to a destination that was far more planned than I'd ever let on. It was past midnight when we finally arrived at Bryce Canyon.

Bryce Canyon was special to us. We'd gone there together when we'd only been officially dating a few weeks -- right after we first said "I love you." (God, that was a fast moving relationship, wasn't it?) But I took her to this lookout, and we watched the stars paint the heavens in pure incandescence. Then I told her that I loved her, and I told her that when I looked into the skies, I had always felt like I saw something different than what everyone else saw. And then I met her. The other person in the world who saw infinity and perfection in starlight. The only person I'd met who would go on spontaneous roadtrips with me. The only person I knew who could be a real adventuring companion to me. The only person who saw the same thing I saw in the Universe. That I wanted to be renegade angels together, forever.

Good lines, right? And then I told her to look up at the sky. To look at Orions Belt. Then I told her to look down, and I'd pulled out a ring, with three diamonds across the middle. I made a comment like "Got those stars for you."

That wedding was going to be at Arches National Park. We were going to have pictures taken right below Delicate Arch. We were going to honeymoon there, staying in a fancy hotel with a giant hot-tub, but hiking and site seeing during the day. We were going to adventure there to celebrate the official commitment to our life together.

These memories still make me happy. I guess that's strange, since they didn't work out, but I still like having those memories, that love, that devotion, that romance, as a part of my life.

I should just write books with romance instead of getting into these relationships. ^_^ I'm good at it -- but maybe next time I can leave my own life out of the equation.

Haha -- it's my blog, so I use it as a venting space, but if you couldn't tell, yesterday's entry was a nihilistic ramble that centered around a question that I've been mulling over in my head for a few months. It's a real dilemma as far as I'm concerned, but I stated it in this weird pessimistic way! Sorry to be a downer on my own blog. ;)

I'm going to ask forgiveness for the one of this blog in advanced, as I'm going to speak my mind in the way it expresses itself to me right now.

Some days, existence seems entirely pointless. I've got a good job -- I just got a very good raise -- but what's the point? Jobs are the creation of a society, and have no fundamental meaning beyond petty human interaction. We invent the concept of society and through it invent countless chains to things that have no meaning except within the game of our society.

Sure, I can now pay off debt a lot better. But what is debt, anyway? Debt is a symbol, borne out from previous interactions with society, which again, is invariably false.

How about other aspects of my life? Well, I'm still losing a lot of weight. I'm getting compliments on that. One of my friends told me that in a year, he's sure I'll look absolutely fantastic. Another one of my friends who's over frequently lets me know consistently what a "stud" I am, and that he's noticing the weight I'm losing.

My hobbies and projects are doing well. My small businesses are generating more revenue. My websites are improving, and I'm getting phenomenal traffic. Stand up comedy is going well. I'm getting better at poker, at fighting, at writing, at everything. I'm writing up documentation for my spiritual beliefs, and the religion I'm starting called "Divinism." I'm getting into school so I feel like I'm headed towards progress. It's all going well.

My friends went out with me last night celebrating my raise, I had the wonderful opportunity to spend time with my family, people at work consistently invite me to things, I'm hanging out with old friends from my theater days and from school. So my personal relationships are all doing well, I feel well cared for, well loved even, by my friends and family. But what's the point of that? It's like filling a cup that has a hole in the bottom. I feel like, maybe, that's why I feel like this. Like there's a hole in me that's draining out that love and care and goodness.

In examining my life, I am fulfilled in my friendships, with my family, with my work, with my hobbies, with my education, with my spirituality, with my own body -- but I guess there's one category that I'm not feeling fulfilled in. That's the thing I'm trying to figure out.

The category I'm not feeling particularly "fulfilled" in is romance. But the reason I'm not, or the reason I feel I'm not, is I haven't decided yet what I want.

The reality is, during my life, when I've been in relationships, I have been a lot less happy. I've been a lot more distressed, have developed bad habits, have had very little time for other projects, have come even, in some way, to hate myself. But at the same time, somehow, I have always liked my life a lot more when I'm in a relationship. There's a certain sort of fulfillment that I've always felt in relationships. Like it makes all of this society bullshit worth it. I don't care about fitting into society, I don't care about my own debt, I don't at all. But if it allows me to give someone I love something that lets them know I love them? If it gives them peace and security? It feels worth it. Right now, it just doesn't for me.

Do I want to pursue a relationship? Find someone really special. Find someone who I can take care of, and who can take care of me? Find someone who I can love with all my heart -- who I can be completely devoted to? Someone who I can protect and hold onto. Someone I can be there for. Someone who could always count on. Someone who I knew like I knew myself. I've had that before, and both times that I have, I've been miserable and complete. What the hell does that mean?

I don't know if I can do that to myself again. I'm not healthy in relationships. I'm not meant for relationships. At least, that's what I keep telling myself. But could it be different next time? The truth is, I loved Steph so much that I gave up any hope in finding anything else. I just wanted her in my life. I didn't want to be with anyone else, ever again. I just wanted to be with her, and that was enough. And I hate that. Forget that, screw that, it's terrible. It was by becoming incomplete that I became what I wanted to be. Right now, I'm exactly what I want to be -- but I hurt really bad, and I don't know how to stop that.

So do I want to try it again? To test the boundaries of the Universe? Get into a relationship where I risk feeling complete and happy, and losing myself again, losing what I want to be, being unhealthy? Or can I get into a relationship and not feel those ways? Can I fall in love and still feel this ambition about myself, to create something masterful out of my life?

The other option is just to date around. To be an alpha male -- confident, sexy, and never tied down. Flirting with and dating girls, getting "action," but never binding myself to someone. To be "incomplete." To "evolve -- let the chips fall where they may." Like Tyler Durden in Fight Club.

It feels like that's what I should do. I've only been in two relationships in my life -- only really been with two girls (everything else was "two or three dates"). Shouldn't I experience more? Shouldn't I try to "experience life with more women?"

It's like I'm supposed to do that, because that's how I could find a certain sort of fulfillment, a sort of confidence in my own ability in romance, stuff I've never had before. If I can find a girl to "hook up" with, without it being serious, I would know I could do that. It would get rid of an insecurity of mine. Make me more stable in the future, including in relationships. I wouldn't feel like I had to rely on the relationship for that. Does that make sense?

But the reality is, I don't want this. Even if it's psychologically healthier, less risky for me in my current position as I continue in developing good habits, it's not what I want. I don't want a lot of women. I want something real. I want something significant. I want something you could write a book about. I want a legend.

But I feel like I can't pursue it. Like I shouldn't. So I'm torn between the Scylla and the Charibdis. If I steer towards the alpha male psychology, I could get action, I could have romance, but never have to worry about commitment or obligation or excess stress or my own vulnerabilities -- but I would never feel truly fulfilled, and I wouldn't be getting something that I considered to be in any way substantial. On the other hand, I could stop looking just for girls to go on casual dates with, and start looking for "relationship potential." I could try to find somebody to love. But though I may feel, in my way, fulfilled and complete and happy, I may also be heading down a path of misery, and I would certainly be severing the opportunity for experiences with more women.

I don't know why direction to head, but like Odysseus, I need to steer towards one or the other, or I get the pain of both. So which should it be? Is there an Option C that I've failed to notice? Certainly, I can do the Alpha psychology now, and relationships when I'm ready, but I don't even really want that. But I need to decide.

Anyway, that's the rant for the day. How's that for a long-winded bag of crap?

I wanted to give another brief update.

• I started watching the show Dexter, and just got through the first season. OMFG, it's awesome! Great acting, great writing, and a great plot. Such excellent suspense.
  
• I am able to do The King of the Dance pose in yoga, and can hold it for 30 seconds.
• The most exciting thing I did all week was take an hour-long walk in the pouring rain. I wound up drenched and completely enthralled. I loved it.

Now, I wanted to do a bit of a rant:

In ancient Sparta, above all else, they valued strength. There was a hero's story that young Spartans were told of a boy, learning the art of war, who had stolen a wolf. When there was an inquiry about it, the boy held the wolf to his own back, and as he was questioned about the missing wolf, he refused to confess. As the wolf clawed at his back, he showed no pain, and no regret. This continued until, at last, the boy collapsed from blood loss, and then died. He was hailed as exemplary. It was better to die than the confess. It was better to die than to fail.

This was their culture, and so it is no surprise that this same concept applied to war. When the men left for war, the women called out, "Come back with your shield, or on it." If you surrendered, you surrendered your shield. If you died, you were carried back on the shield. To them, it was either victory or death. To them, it was either greatness or nothingness. They were not satisfied to live their life as something less than perfect. They were not satisfied to be anything less than legendary.

I admit without restraint that this is quite an extreme view, and not something that should be idealized. That sort of culture has many downfalls. However, I also strongly believe that we need more of this type of concept in our world today. Something like 32% of our adult population (here in the US) is obese. Depression is at an all time high. We have all of these problems, all of these flaws, and all of these downfalls, but rather than changing them, what do we do?

We complain. We sit around and we whine that our jobs don't pay as enough. We look in the mirror and we see imperfection, and rather than saying "Hell, I guess I better go get some exercise," we get down on ourselves and do exactly nothing. We complain about WalMart and other big chains, but rather than coming up with unique business ideas, or doing something to change the cultural need, we simply content ourselves with whining. Maybe people just want to let others know that they're not happy about something, but they don't need to change the world. Well, what's so wrong with changing the world? As far as I'm concerned, you should either do something to change it, or stop complaining.

That's why we need a little more Sparta in our world today. We need more honor and strength. So many are content sitting around and burning the most valuable resource we have -- our lives -- and killing off the most phenomonal possibilities that the Universe has presented. I am not content with letting my life go by without making a mark.

Greatness, strength, progress, evolution. I'm not blaming the government or religion or public education. I'm not blaming the media or music or pop culture. I'm blaming us. Every last one of us. We made the music, and government, and public education. We made all of it. It's our responsibility to seek greatness, to seek to be more, and we're not living up to it.

So, no, we shouldn't be considering suicide every time something we do fails. But we need to start more of our ambitions while stating to ourselves, "Come back with your shield, or on it." No more surrendering. No more playing victim. Just victory -- and refusing to settle for anything less than greatness.

~Rob Tenken~

I wanted to take a moment to let you guys know:

I did my stand up again. It took a lot of talking myself into, I'll be honest. All of the "what if, what if, what if" in my head that I had to override. But I went.

Before it started, I noted that the comedians who ripped on me last week were here again this week. As I saw them gathered around, listening to the most successful comedian there give advice, I said to myself "You know what, these are my new best friends. This is my network. These are my people. And I'm the sort who makes instant friends when I want to."

I was something like 4th on the setup. I was introduced as "The very funny Rob Young." When I got to the mic, I said "You know, you'll want to be careful about introducing me as the 'very funny Rob Young.' Some of these guys were here for my performance last week."

Hell, you know what? I'll do the performance for you right now. Recorded, uploaded on YouTube, and ready for you to see. (BEWARE: Static. BEWARE: Only semi-edited for your benefit -- still contains some swearing)



And I nailed it. I got laughs in all the places I expected them, and in a couple I didn't (or with impromptu statements). I was told by a couple people that I did a really great job. One guy specifically came up to me and shook my hand and told me. I talked to the emcee (host) and asked him for advice.

He thought about it and said, "No, I don't really have any advice. I mean, it was funny. It was good. If you wanted to, you could trim down some of the extra stuff so you could fit more into an open mic night performance, or you could just keep it as is and put it towards a longer bit."

I was very, very happy, I want to say. I pushed myself into it, did it again, and succeeded. I felt so euphoric -- and I know I couldn't have felt this euphoric if it wasn't for how badly I did last time. But knowing I owned this. I conquered this. I started from nothing and I made this. I love it. I feel great.

And now I can safely say, yeah, I want to keep pushing at this. A hobby, yeah, but a fun one.

I wanted to jot this down on my blog so you guys know where I'm at, where I want to be at, etc.

First of all, my "official weigh-in" happens on the fifth of each month, because the 5th of December is when I quit caffeine, and I consider that to be the beginning of my weight-loss. The highest weight I was prior to losing weight was 306lbs.

When I do my official weigh-in, I can count that weight, or if there was a lower weight in the past couple of days, I count that (since weight fluctuates, after all). So, today I did my official weigh-in for June, and I was 247lbs. In other words, I've lost 59lbs so far.

Now, so far I've been losing about 10lbs per month. My actual goals, though, are slightly different. Here are the specifics:

I have two goals regarding my weight-loss:

• My initial objective is to trim off 2% of my body weight per month (when I started, that meant six lbs -- now that means 5lbs).
• My real objective (what I really want to do, but won't beat myself up about if I don't manage) is to trim off 3% of my body weight per month (which means, when I started, 9lbs, and currently means 7.5lbs).

If I can pull off 10lbs per month, great! But I don't want to rush my body. The point is to get rid of the weight permanently -- not do things that damage my health, that I can't stick to, or that will cause me to gain the weight right back.

So the goal for July 5th is to weigh 240.
August 5th, for my 23rd Birthday, I want to weigh 233.
September 5th, 226. October 5th, 219. November 5th, 212. December 5th, 206 (and my 1 year mark -- when I reach this objective, I will have lost 100lbs in 1 year).

January 5th, 200. February 5th, 194. March 5th, 188. April 5th, 182. May 5th, 176. June 5th, 171 (and that's 1 year from today -- when I reach this objective, I will have lost 135lbs in a year and a half).
July 5th, 166. August 5th, 161. September 5th, 156. October 5th, 153.

And that's what I want to lose. 153lbs, cutting my weight literally in half by October 5th, 2010. This is my "real objective." If I just lose the 2% per month, it will be June of 2011 that I finish this weight-loss objective. This figure is based off how much "lean body weight" I had back when I weighed 185, which was (about) 142lbs of body weight, so 153 puts me at about 8% body fat. I'll figure out the exact details when I get to that point, but 6% to 8% body fat is what I want to be at.

So it's either a 2 year or a 2.5 year process. I'm not at all dissatisfied with that time-frame. It took me three years to gain this weight (October 2005 to December 2008). It's only fair that it will take a couple years to trim it all off -- plus I'll be trimming off about 30lbs extra. To "get down to where I was" will take less than a year and a half.

Anyway, it feels fun to get these onto paper! I'm sure you all loved reading my blog entry.

So, I have two colleagues who participate quite actively in Battleguard, a medieval reenactment sort of thing. Those of you who grew up near North Park probably saw these guys in action -- swinging foam weapons at each other and all that jazz.

But I decided I would give it a go. After all, I'm looking for new ways to get workouts that are fun, and this seemed like a good opportunity.


I got there before either of my work buddies were there, so I walked up to the gathered group, asked if they were Battleguard, said I'd never done it before, and asked who wanted to teach me. They taught me all the basic rules, and gave me a "loaner weapon" -- something for people who hadn't made their own weapon yet. It was the equivalent of a short sword, for those of you who have a basic knowledge of midieval weaponry.

Yeah, I had a short sword. Everyone else had a long sword and shield, or venician style sword/short-sword, or a two-handed sword, or a flail and shield. In other words, I was vastly underpowered.

So I spent the entire night "getting killed." My goal wasn't to do well, though. My goal was to break a sweat and get a bruise. After a self-examination this morning, I found I succeeded in both tasks! (The bruise is on my left hand, where I got whacked pretty hard). The only way I seemed to successfully kill others was my flanking them or sneaking up on them -- in other words, when they were attacking someone else, or didn't know I was there. I kept learning different tricks, and getting different tips, though, so I feel I'm on the correct "road to improvement."

It was a great way to get a workout, and something to teach you to overcome fear of pain (I like that sort of thing). One pleasant surprise was that mosquitos LOVED to people doing Battleguard. When you get hit with these foam weapons, it smarts, and all the blood rises to the surface where you got hit -- prividing a juicy meal for the many local mosquitos.

At the end of the night, I'd learned a couple things, stopped flinching so much when I went in to attack people, and gotten about two hours of cardio (or bursts of heavy cardio throughout a two-hour period, with times of light cardio intermixed). It really was a killer way to get a workout.


The above pictures are not ones I took, by the way. Credit belongs to Trevor Christensen.

Yesterday, I decided to perform my stand-up comedy (which I've been working on for about a month, and have performed for friends and family) at an Open Mic Night. People have asked me since I got back how it went.

The answer? Absolutely terrible.

I stood up to perform. I had no idea how to use the mic. My volume was off repeatedly. I talked too fast. Only a couple of the jokes got any laughs at all. My British accent -- which I was doing the routine in -- dropped in and out a bit, due to nervousness. And I was originally told I had 7 minutes, but then they told me when it started that it was 3 minutes -- so I wasn't able to finish, and was in the middle of a "bit" when they started clapping. My cue to halt and get off the stage -- now.

Some other comedians bombed. Some didn't. Best of all, more than one took a chance to jab at me. The subjects of interest were the fact that I'm very chubby (three other comedians mentioned my weight) and the fact that my british accent didn't stick (two mentioned this, and one accused me of stealing jokes from Eddie Izzard, a famous British comedian -- saying "write your own jokes, you f***kin douche" -- during his routine).

A part of me very much wanted to bail on the entire thing. I'd done my bit, I'd failed, so I should just bolt for it. But another part of me refused.

I stayed through every comedian. I watched as I was ripped on for various things. I didn't let it get to me. They were comedians, and yes I had bombed, and if they could get a laugh out of jabbing at me, they were doing their job, in their own way. And if they got a laugh out of it, they were doing better than I had.

And then after the show, I walked up to the guy who did the best out of all the performers. I shook his hand. I said he did a great job. I told him I knew I failed -- I knew I bombed bad -- and what would he advise changing.

He said, first "Did you really use Eddie Izzard jokes?" I let him know, firmly, I didn't. I would never steal jokes. All my stuff was 100% original. He said that was cool -- and that he liked the historical diatribe thing I was going for, but that it didn't work well in an Open Mic night environment. That it was pretty hard to follow, and that I needed to work on that. He told me to slow down. He said he knew I was in a rush because of the time -- but that I had to work in the time I had. That you get to know your own material with time, and that when your time is up, not to try to push to the end of the joke unless it's really short out there -- that it's better to just let it end. He said to keep practicing, to come back and try again. I told him I would -- that I didn't figure it could get any worse.

Then I talked to the Emcee, the guy "hosting" the thing. I told him I knew I was terrible, but that I wanted advice. He said "Write your own jokes." I let him know . . . once again . . . that the only thing similar to Eddie Izzard was the accent, and that I knew well to drop it. With my stuff already being hard to follow, the accent would just make it harder, and if it gave the impression that I was doing an Eddie Izzard imitation that I wanted to avoid that as much as possible. He also said -- come back, try again.

There have been times in my life where experiences like this would have crushed me. Where this kind of defeat, people ripping on me for it, feeling this sort of humiliation, would make me quit. And hell, I wanted to quit! Trust me, I did. But these days, there's a stronger part of me. When other people start screaming no, it just starts screaming YES even louder. When other people doubt me, it just becomes more certain I can succeed.

Is stand-up comedy my dream? No. It would be fun. It's worth an experiment. But I'm more driven now by the nightmare than I was by the dream. Sometimes, I just have to prove to myself I can do something. When I fail, it makes me want to succeed that much more. I'm driven -- I know that. I want that. I choose that. I refuse to be satisfied with myself, ever.

The more I struggle against, the stronger I am. "Resistance training." As long as you don't let it crush you, it makes you stronger. As long as you don't let it make you bitter, it makes you better.

And I'll be there again next week. I'm not stupid enough to try the same things. I'm going to try new material, I'm going to get rid of my flaws -- and like I said, I don't think I could bomb harder. I could bomb as bad, but not harder -- so what is there to fear? At least I'll know I had the balls to get up and fight again, even if I lose twice.

Here's what I need to fix:

-Practice with a Mic
-Wear brighter, more energetic clothing
-Talk more slowly and clearly
-Drop the accent
-Practice my material more, and get a better sense of time frames
-Create new material that suitable for an open mic, and tie it in with old material

And on the subject of my weight -- yeah, they ripped on me, but when I got home I did yoga and pilates and all that jazz. When I started doing pushups, a couple weeks ago, I could only do ten. Now I can do twenty-five. That's how attractive I am. That's how fit and thin I am. Twice as good as I was just a little while ago. Twice as good as I am now in just a little bit. 8 inches off of my waist in 6 months. 10 pounds trimmed off per month. When I've lost the weight, the muscles and flexibility I've gained will make me epic.

I refuse to accept a Universe where I am condemned to live with my past mistakes forever. Today is the disciple of yesterday. Tomorrow is the disciple of today. So long as I can say "I am stronger than I was yesterday," I have succeeded. So long as I can say "I am more fit and thin than I was yesterday," I am not "chubby." Ever.

I'll be there again, next Wednesday. Maybe I'll fail again -- and if I do, I'm certain I'll learn just as much. It will take a lot more than just a couple failures to make me quit, though. I'm a hard guy to keep down. Almost impossible to defeat.

The part of me that screams "stick around" and "try again" -- that best part of me is glad that I failed so badly. Glad that I bombed out so bad. Glad that I did such a horrible job. Because now, when I succeed, I'll know that I earned it. It was never handed to me. I made it mine.

That's my mark of maturity. That hardships make me fight harder. That's how I know I'm an "adult" now. That instead of spending my energy crying about my failures, I do things to fix them. I write lists of more things to change to be better. Better in every way. Progress. And that's all I'll ever ask of myself.

~Rob Tenken~

Okay, I swear I'll get around to plugging in photos soon. Seriously, I will.

But, in the meantime, let me summarize what I remember of the Cali trip before its lost forever in the sands of time!

Okay, so:

We woke up in California -- all of us, including me! I hadn't dropped into a coma, and everyone was relieve (as I was their ride ;)). I insisted that we get moving back to the beach before we left, though, and on the way I decided I wanted to busk.

I had seen a musician playing the night before, and I figured, "hey, I can do that." So when everyone else started off to walk along the beach, I started singing. At first, I had no success -- but I was sitting on a barrier, singing with my hat out. Hardly a performer. Still, I'd never done it before, and even I get nervous sometimes. ^_^

So I took a break from it and tracked down Scot and Lauren. We walked down the beach, and hiked across a rocky pier, crawling with crabs and other crustaceans. We watched as the waves beat wildly against the rocks, then finally crawled back and attempted to find our friends.

I decide, while we waited for Ben and April, that I would give another go at busking -- so while Scot and Lauren were in the restroom, I took center stage in the middle of the pier, by a monument they had there. I announced "Ladies and gentlemen, like it or not, I will now be performing! I want to make two things extraordinarily clear. First, I am not a beggar -- I am a performer!" And then I swept off my hat. "And second, I absolutely want your money!" And I dropped a few coins into my hat.

I sang through my 4 songs once each (I've now written two more, by the way) -- so I estimate it was 12ish minutes. A lot of bikers who were going through stopped and listened. Some of the tourists and locals gathered. I had a crowd of about eight people by the end of it. I got three dollars, all said.

Scot came out and saw the last portion, and when Ben and April and Lauren got there, they asked that I perform again. So, after delaying a bit so my crowd would be fresh, I did. I went through all my songs again, and this time with Lauren, Scot, Ben and April starting the crowd from the get go, I got a much bigger audience.

People gathered around quite nicely. Some pulled out camera phones and recorded me. There were probably twenty people by the end, and I got $8 off this portion of things. The cutest was an older Asian man, who seemed like a businessman, who listened to one of my songs, then slowly walked up, put the money in my hat, bowed, then walked back to the crowd to listen to another song before walking away.

This bodes well for my New York plan! After all, I made $11 in about 25 minutes -- about $24/hour for performing.

That is, if you don't count the $98 ticket I got for forgetting to put more coins in the parking meter before I got back.

Then, on the way out of California, before hitting the road, I hit the side of a stone pillar at a gas station, scraping up the side of my car pretty bad.

Haha -- anyway, that's not the important stuff. Gemini (my car) loves having personality.

On the way back, we went to Vegas again, this time hitting up Treasure Island and the Bellagio. So, I've never seen the show at Treasure Island before, but here's my basic summary: It's like going to a club with a lot of hot people there, except they're on a boat, and there are better pyrotechnics. Nothing terrible, but I'm glad it's a free show.

Then we grabbed a bite to eat at a greek place, and the girl there was wicked cool about customizing my order to be Vegan. She actually put together a plate for me with all their vegan stuff. It was spiffy as all hell. After I ate, I went up and chatted with her again. I said "Hey, thanks for the vegan meal. You seem really cool. Can I get your number?" And she said (looking suddenly very -- I don't know the right word, because it's half flustered and half apologetic) "Oh -- I'm sorry, I'm seeing someone!" To which I said "Cool cool. Thanks for the soft rejection." "No, no, really! I am seeing someone." "No, no, I believe you. Thanks for the soft rejection anyway. You definitely still seem cool. Enjoy!"

See, I don't care that I got rejected, because, y'know, I had the balls to ask. See? That right there is enough.

Anywho, then we went to the Bellagio.

If I ever get married*, I want the honeymoon to be at the Bellagio. The fountains (for a lack of a better word) at the Bellagio are just . . . wow. I just . . . wow, you know? I -- wow. I love them. They're so epic. I got videos of one of the things, so I'll try to clip segments into this blog eventually.

*Rob doesn't actually plan on getting married. Ever. But if it happens, he prays it won't be soon. Give him at least five years. He's had his share of "near misses" already, thank you very much.

And we stayed, watching the Bellagio fountains, for about an hour and a half. We met a couple really cool people who had a Japanese doll (Sackboy, from "Little Big Planet") that was touring the world. It had been sent to them by their friends in Hawaii, and to them from Japan. They'll be sending it off to SLC, and it'll be travelling the globe from there.

I hopped inside the Bellagio to gamble, because I wanted to at least say I gambled in a little in Vegas while there. Fastest $20 I've ever lost. I sat at the lowest buy in blackjack table I could find, which was $10. I played one hand -- got a 13 (Ace 2) hit 13 (Ace 2 Jack) hit 23 (Ace 2 Jack Ten). Then I played another hand. Got an 18 (King 8) and the dealer got twenty. Yeah -- that's why they call it gambling.

Heheh -- anyway, then we headed back -- and arrived here in the early morning on Tuesday, a few hours before work for me.

Here are a few crimes we may or may not have committed during the trip:

Kidnapping
Destruction of property
Speeding
Hit and Run
Bringing underage individuals into gambling areas of a casino
Murder

And since that trip, my life has been really boring! Over the last few weeks since that trips been over, my only highlights have been:

• Two concerts (both of which ROCKED)
• Winning $220 in a poker tournament
• Getting into a fight (and winning)
• Getting registered for school for the 2nd block of Summer
• Playing D&D with friends all weekend
• Doing an extensive study of assertive behaviors and alpha interactions
• Getting numbers from, like, 5 girls (see, when I fail at something, I insist on proving to myself that I can succeed)
• Founding a new religion

You know, the usual. ^_^ Anyway, I'll talk to you guys later! And soon -- very soon, I'll put in the pics and vids.

~Rob Tenken~