I was reflecting this week about a time when a law school buddy and I were in law school and were in a little law office in Oklahoma City learning how to do a property record search at 5th and Kerr Street, just down the street from the Oklahoma County Courthouse. Kerr street is one way and so we had to go up a couple of blocks to Harvey street to get back on the street the right way to get a parking place. We hit Harvey at 7:45 AM and drove west to fifth street to make the turn south. A little over an hour later, we heard the explosion and felt the concussion. I have never told that to a soul, not even KJ. My friend and I made a pact that we wouldn't tell our family how close we were to the explosion. He had a new wife, and KJ and I were newly married and I didn't want to worry her or my family, but we were too damn close. That was ten years ago today and to this day, I can still remember how that explosion sounded and what it felt like and I will probably remember it until the day I die.
I wrote the preceding paragraph a few years ago and it seemed appropriate this week to add it to this blog. Although it is a different year, the sentiment is still the same and the memories are just as vivid.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Sunday, April 19, 2009
The Fancy Funky Fandango
Someone reminded me that I will be 38 years old this year. That same someone told me that I don’t act that old. I thanked her for the compliment and as I walked away I had a chance to think about what she’d said. She hadn’t said that I didn’t LOOK 38 years old, but that I didn’t act like it. I am still fatuously grateful for the compliment, even if it wasn’t the one I thought she gave me. As a side note, she later explained that she meant that I don’t seem that old and I suppose that could include my actions as well as my looks. For the record, I don’t feel 38 years old, and I sure as hell don’t act like it. I think I am ready to let my twenties go though. They were very good to me, but I look forward to bigger and better things in the coming years. Age is just a number anyway. You are only as old as you think you are and while I wanted to be a grown up, even as a kid, I never wanted to get old. That feeling is not shared by my contemporaries.
I have friends and other folks I know that approach me every few weeks, their hands clasped together in a double fist so tight their knuckles are white while they wear an expression of urgency and expectation on their faces. They can’t wait to tell me what their new malady is. Lord, its leper colony out there. One guy insists on telling me the frequency with which his erection flags and his concern that he has a low sperm count. He asked me if this had ever happened to me (he is 3 years younger than I). I told him that sperm count and erections are completely unrelated and that my payload, and the delivery system (everything from the ICBM to the Minuteman), have always worked just fine. I thought he was going to have a heart attack when I told him this. In fact, a week later he came to me and said that he thought he was having chest pains and went to the hospital where they told him he had gas, gave him some pepto and sent him home. Another guy thought his colon was blocked because he had been constipated for three days. Another colleague of mine can hear about a rare disease on television which affects only the Australian Bushmen and within a week he will have developed symptoms which mimic with precision the Australian Bushmen disease, this despite the fact that he is neither Australian nor a Bushman. I am convinced that when he does die, his last words will be “See, I told you so”.
The point of all this is my confusion at these people’s disappointment when they found out that nothing is wrong with them. I am convinced that it isn’t age that is killing people, it is the stress on these people from worrying about what is going to kill them. To that end, here are a few tricks I have developed to combat stress.
(1.) Dance.. I don’t mean the formal dancing you’ve seen taught in college nor even the rhythmic shaking that one would see a club. No no, I am talking about MY dance, which I am prone to bust out at any time. Here is how it is done: Step 1: Squat down so that the top half of your body is parallel to ground and your rear end is stuck out and slightly up, your legs should be bent at the knees (unless of course you’ve figured out some other way to get into this position without doing so). Step 2. Your arms should be slightly bent at the elbows (unless of course you have unhealed compound fractures and then you may bend your arms at any point you choose) Step 3. The music should now start in your head, audible music is acceptable, but is not nearly as much fun. Step 4. Ok, start with you legs, straighten and then re-bend first your right leg and then your left leg so that your body is gently rocking from side to side, simultaneously work your butt up and down, continue while at the same time punching the air first with you left hand and then your right hand at the end of every third punch, do a windmill with alternating arms and alternating directions, continue.. at the same time, bob your head from front to back, left to right and every 4th revolution stick out your tongue and auto-rotate your head like the helicopter pilots do. Finally, if you’re not too dizzy by this point, spin your entire body around every 60 seconds, pause and then place each hand on your knees and do the “crossover” three times. Repeat as necessary. I call this dance the Fancy Funky Fandango. You get extra points if you do it in a set of Kocha Shells and a loin cloth.
(2) Sing. But don’t just sing a song, just snippets of random lyrics to the tune of an entirely unrelated song. For example combine Gavin DeGraw’s “I’m In Love With a Girl”, The Moody Blues’ “Nights in White Satin” and Motley Crue’s “Girls, Girls, Girls” to form “I’m in love with a girl in White Satin, Long legs and burgandy lips.” Sing it to the tune of 2 Pac’s “California Love” just for fun.
And finally,
(3) Exercise. I don’t do this as often as I should. Just for fun, moonwalk around the track. Or play a prank. My favorite is to put olive oil on the weight bars.
So there you have it, my tips for combating stress. We all need to laugh a little and at times, we need to laugh a lot, even at ourselves. Now get out there and have some fun!
Take care, be well and do good work.
Trialdawg.
I have friends and other folks I know that approach me every few weeks, their hands clasped together in a double fist so tight their knuckles are white while they wear an expression of urgency and expectation on their faces. They can’t wait to tell me what their new malady is. Lord, its leper colony out there. One guy insists on telling me the frequency with which his erection flags and his concern that he has a low sperm count. He asked me if this had ever happened to me (he is 3 years younger than I). I told him that sperm count and erections are completely unrelated and that my payload, and the delivery system (everything from the ICBM to the Minuteman), have always worked just fine. I thought he was going to have a heart attack when I told him this. In fact, a week later he came to me and said that he thought he was having chest pains and went to the hospital where they told him he had gas, gave him some pepto and sent him home. Another guy thought his colon was blocked because he had been constipated for three days. Another colleague of mine can hear about a rare disease on television which affects only the Australian Bushmen and within a week he will have developed symptoms which mimic with precision the Australian Bushmen disease, this despite the fact that he is neither Australian nor a Bushman. I am convinced that when he does die, his last words will be “See, I told you so”.
The point of all this is my confusion at these people’s disappointment when they found out that nothing is wrong with them. I am convinced that it isn’t age that is killing people, it is the stress on these people from worrying about what is going to kill them. To that end, here are a few tricks I have developed to combat stress.
(1.) Dance.. I don’t mean the formal dancing you’ve seen taught in college nor even the rhythmic shaking that one would see a club. No no, I am talking about MY dance, which I am prone to bust out at any time. Here is how it is done: Step 1: Squat down so that the top half of your body is parallel to ground and your rear end is stuck out and slightly up, your legs should be bent at the knees (unless of course you’ve figured out some other way to get into this position without doing so). Step 2. Your arms should be slightly bent at the elbows (unless of course you have unhealed compound fractures and then you may bend your arms at any point you choose) Step 3. The music should now start in your head, audible music is acceptable, but is not nearly as much fun. Step 4. Ok, start with you legs, straighten and then re-bend first your right leg and then your left leg so that your body is gently rocking from side to side, simultaneously work your butt up and down, continue while at the same time punching the air first with you left hand and then your right hand at the end of every third punch, do a windmill with alternating arms and alternating directions, continue.. at the same time, bob your head from front to back, left to right and every 4th revolution stick out your tongue and auto-rotate your head like the helicopter pilots do. Finally, if you’re not too dizzy by this point, spin your entire body around every 60 seconds, pause and then place each hand on your knees and do the “crossover” three times. Repeat as necessary. I call this dance the Fancy Funky Fandango. You get extra points if you do it in a set of Kocha Shells and a loin cloth.
(2) Sing. But don’t just sing a song, just snippets of random lyrics to the tune of an entirely unrelated song. For example combine Gavin DeGraw’s “I’m In Love With a Girl”, The Moody Blues’ “Nights in White Satin” and Motley Crue’s “Girls, Girls, Girls” to form “I’m in love with a girl in White Satin, Long legs and burgandy lips.” Sing it to the tune of 2 Pac’s “California Love” just for fun.
And finally,
(3) Exercise. I don’t do this as often as I should. Just for fun, moonwalk around the track. Or play a prank. My favorite is to put olive oil on the weight bars.
So there you have it, my tips for combating stress. We all need to laugh a little and at times, we need to laugh a lot, even at ourselves. Now get out there and have some fun!
Take care, be well and do good work.
Trialdawg.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Whoa, You Don't Know The Shape I'm In..
Its been awhile since I’ve posted anything, a product of a complicated professional life and illness in my personal life. Things were fine until I came back from a few days of R&R. I didn’t feel sick, just a little lethargic. I had a dull pain behind one of my eyes and a general feeling of listlessness. A short time later my throat began to hurt. I’ll spare you dear readers the details, but the pressure finally ended this week when a small placenta came out of my face along with part of my brain. I don’t think it was anything important, but I can’t seem to remember my primary colors anymore and simple arithmetic is a chore. I also can’t talk good no more. I’ve got a lot of things saved up from my three week hiatus, but I’ll ease into it.. Stay tuned gentle readers.
Take care, be well and do good work.
Trialdawg.
P.S. My thanks to The Great Levon Helm and The Band for the title of this blog.
Take care, be well and do good work.
Trialdawg.
P.S. My thanks to The Great Levon Helm and The Band for the title of this blog.
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