Ric Flair Retires

Wrestling fans take a lot of shit: from both the mainstream media and the product itself. The last few years have been nothing more than a string of heartbreaks. For once, it felt good to be a wrestling fan. Flair was given the kayfabe breaking send off he deserved.

A sucker born every minute

I told myself "No way am I ordering a $55.00 Wrestlemania!" That was before I caved of course. I guess I couldn't say no to Ric Flair's last match; and I'm a big ole Undertaker mark. Overall, it was a good show. Was it worth the money I paid? No...no, unless Matt Hardy ends up World Champ---which he didn't--there's no way it could be worth $55.oo, color me sucker.

New Title

Thinking the blog needs a new title. The title is a bit obscure. DOn't think most people would even guess the reference. "Green Cross/Red Blood" There's a criminologist at FSU who has developed a green cross project. It's aimed at survivors of severe trauma. Anyway, I barely know anything about it to start with, and I reckon people see the title floating down the google river and think "insurance company? Crazy christian website?" Hmm. I need something that willlet people know what the blog is about.

Obama 2008

Did I post on this topic already??? I feel like I did but I'm too lazy to look! I've had misgivings about his experience, but those have mostly been assuaged. Compared to Hilary, who seems to have manufactured most of her pre-senate experience, Obama has a plethora. And McCain's experience is nullified by craziness and intransigence.

Kickboxing Class

I think a couple of my classmates are a bit annoyed(?) amused(?) at my enthusiasm for fitness circuits. One day I'd like to tell them "All I have to do is remember lying on that cold floor with a bloody nose and a gun to my head. It gives me motivation for hours." Usually two hours, which sucks on those three hour days--my concentration goes to hell.

My Girlfriend and kettlebells

Yes, two topics that have absolutely nothing to do with each other together for the first time (in structure not in any real applicable relationship).

The more kettlebell workouts I do the more I like them. Their design promotes freedom of motion and more efficient work (er, or something like that). I find it easier to learn olympic exercises in kettlebell--as supposed to barbell or dumbell--form, and they foster grip strength. Something I've been sorely lacking for a long time. The k.b. deadlift in particular I really like. In its barbell form, to really do the exercise correctly, the bar would would have to scrape against the shins...ick, but with the kettlebell you can begin the exercise with the bell between your legs. And the k.b. swing? great all around exercise. When I first saw it, I was skeptical of the cardiovascular effect, but it's there. It works best within the context of a circuit, but it allows you to develop power and cardio at the same time. My one complaint: with more sophisticated olympic lifts you have to practice positioning switching your wrist grip (the clean for example). If you don't get it right, the bell will leave a bruise on your forearm :( So I guess you could call it negative reinforcement: execute the proper form or go owie.

Lately things have been much smoother between me and girlfriend. Her mood swings still worry me, but I think I have finally assuaged her concerns over my devotion and loyalty. Her suffering breaks my heart. I dread waking her up at night, almost inevitable when I visit; I'm a night owl at heart. She sits up startled, stiff. She doesn't see me; she sees them, and she cowers in fear. It will take me 10-15 seconds to snap her out of it. She wasn't even aware that she did that until I pointed it out on her last visit.

Trauma. You'd think a person would notice that sort of behavior in themself (sp?), but when it comes to trauma we appear all to willing to assimilate the shocking, the irregular, into our mundane lives. I guess it's a variation on the banality of evil: the banality of trauma, the banality of suffering. Acknowledgment, perhaps, means recognizing the extent of one's own pain. I do not excuse myself from this. I am probably engaging in behaviors similar to my girlfriend, but I recognized hers. I suggested that she take a self-defense course or take a martial art. I told her I think it would be therapeutic. If she was prepared for the situation perhaps her immediate reaction upon waking would not be cowering. Unfortunately, as much as I want this, her attention is already divided among work, her thesis--her never ending ego devouring thesis--and the....well its something I can't talk about here yet, so I don't push the issue, I hope she'll have the freedom to take one up soon though.

can't think of title

My sister has been hanging around. She has a fight with my mother, and is here two days later acting like nothing happened. What is the ten cent word meaning "projecting an aura of sliminess"??

Ears

:(

GRE is the suck

Wellllllllllllll I took the GRE friday. I think my score is something of a mixed bah. 580 verbal 410 Quantitative. IF I had just one more week to study. I think I could have pulled the math score up a bit.

The only thing that is keeping me from repeating the test are my analytical writing scores. I won't know what they are for another two to four weeks. *I* thought I did pretty damn well on that section. Hell, I should being an english major and whatnot. I even got lucky. The one issue prompt I used to practice was a choice on the test. Naturally, that's the one I chose, and I had enough time leftover to make revisions to both essays. I'd like to say that I got a perfect score, but I fear jinxing myself. Since I'll be scored by human graders a subjective element is introduced to the process. There is a tiny part of me that fears I bombed them, but I keep that in check. I simply did too many things right. Aside from what I mentioned I managed to work "mawkish" and "specious" into each essay respectively. (In fact, it's pretty easy to use any ten cent words for lying or misleading on the argumentative essay) Suffice to say, if my writing scores are bad I will take the test over. If they are mediocre I will take the test over. If they are great---hmm---I dunno that's the one I'll have to ponder.

BTW My girlfriend scored a 780 on the Verbal five years ago. Can you believe that? Not only is that score beyond ivy league requirements it means she missed one question on the entire section! two tops!

The Balloon--GRE extreme verbosity edition

Our good friend Mr. Balloon is quite the fellow. Is he valiant or merely strident? Does he have hydrogen for a soul or is he something more? I've blogged about him repeatedly, awaiting the sad moment of his death, to the casual observer or the philistine his story is prolix, him a tedious mess; he will not die. He is a dessicated body: sere and wrinkled. He keeps his shine though. His color still vivid despite his inner turmoil. Down with the critics I say! This tableau continues.
He's implacable, and his tenacity belies the short life of other plastic birthday decorations. I hope my dog lives as long as he does. I hope my girlfriend lives as long as he does; I hope I am there with her, and when her time comes I will be able to see her off without a broken heart but a tear and a smile. These are saturnine matters I write of, death and its inevitability. Blame the influence of vocabulary, blame the obvious matter of our trauma, or, you could even blame Death Cab for Cutie (I'm listening to Plans right now).
Mr. Balloon this is not a dirge, I believe there are still molecules within beligerently wailing against that puissant agent of physics, gravitiy. No, this is a panegyric, you will not need a dirge, and when the time comes no eulogy will be needed, all will have been said. I see your longevity as auspicious, the best of omens in a world dominated by the artless, but ruled by demagogues and tricksters (and horrifically enough artless demagogues. W is the paradigm. W is the ..er...searching words...um..another p word.)
I don't want to be verbose. I don't intend to erudite or donnish either. Forgive me if the meaning is lost; if this bemuses someone cheers to you, but don't write off this screed as jejune. I'm just a guy looking for goodness, and a rule, I find it exists in small places and unexpected moments. Sometimes you search, sometimes it finds you. Mr. Balloon you bring (not brought he still hovers!) goodness into my life. If karma is real, I hope you are rewarded with many approbations in the next life, but I must confess you've already achieved the highest state of consciousness I've ever seen.

It..lives...again!...and..er..again

up and down up and down I expect this process to continue for a while (for the record it is currently up) These must be death throes

My friend the balloon

has returned to his previous hovering position, a few inches off the floor

And then suddenly

the balloon shot up! it rose halfway in the air. It struggles. It bobs. It will not die quietly.

Balloon Update

It hovers mere inches above the ground.

Tests

I hate tests--not just standardized scams like the GRE. I'm talking about emotional tests. There are times it seems like my gf is constantly testing me. If she says no I'm supposed to know when she means yes and act accordingly protecting herself with the caveat that I'm supposed to want to do whatever it is that blah blah blah.

Right now I feel like she's testing me in a major way. I've noticed she hasn't said "I love you" at the end of our last few phone conversations. I'm starting to wonder if I'm being tested, that she wants me to say it first or notice or mean it or some other such bullshit. If this sort of behavior hadn't been the norm I'd write it off as paranoia, but it isn't. And the thought that she may have turned the phrase "I love you" into a test really pisses me off. I'm sick and tired of being tested, and feeling that my loyalty is in question, that my ability to support her is in question--how much emotional support has she been able to offer me through this ordeal?--everything is always in question.

Lactic Acid

Overall, the best thing about crossfit that it has seriously reduced my workout time, but boy howdy I am sore this week.

Note on the balloon

It struggles valiantly. It remains floating in the air at half mast. The dog doesn't trust it.

Crossfit and substitutions

Ya know, I like that Crossfit has room for substitutions, but damn it won't matter how hard I abuse an eliptical rider it will NEVER feel like running to me.

It's coming down

I saw my girlfriend this weekend. The visit got off to a rocky start when she mentioned that her friend would get upset with her since she wouldn't be breaking up with me this weekend. (And her friend is now on my list) She did a lot of venting, some of which made sense, some of it sounded like mood swings.
I hate being vague. I fucking hate it, but right now there are too many issues I need to protect, and I can't jeopardize their outcome because of a public blog.

She blames me for a lot of things these days. For moving out, for not knowing when she wanted my support (clue: it helps to state it outright), and for not being around more in a physical sense too. If it wasn't for the sexual assault you'd think I was an emotional clod and she was manipulating me.

I don't know if I'd mentioned this, but one--well, the major one, other than economic hardship--but the stress had become unbearable. Her mood swings were growing worse and I was afraid, genuinely afraid, that I'd hit her. I finally told her this a few weeks ago this was why I moved back home. I was afraid to tell her. I didn't know how'd she take it; it was an X-factor at a time when Xs were fucking like rabbits, little x's were everywhere, and capital Xs were stampeding through my door on a daily basis.

What would you do? The anonymous blogger asked his nonexistent readership. She thinks moving out was the wrong choice, but I'd rather move out and have her break up with me, than hit her. (That, btw, I didn't tell her) Is that love? Is that sacrifice? Or merely a klutzy decision by someone who should know better?

...And at the bottom of it all, no matter what she says or blames me for, I think what she is really doing is blaming me for the rape, and I don't think I will ever be able to convince her otherwise.