Tuesday, January 05, 2010

On coming home again

Is that what this is? Home? Or maybe I was, like, I usually am, trying to find a way to maintain parallelism while also appearing clever. Oh G, you're such a rogue. (Insert coy giggle).

Taking a page from Rob, I've decided to start blogging again. Just a little at first, in short easy spurts, and then slowly until I'm back up to my marathon legs. I do note that I a) never managed to finish that fucking travelogue, which was actually starting to feel a little like shoving railroad spikes into my eyes with the kind of days I was having on board that god-forsaken ship and b) didn't manage to maintain the running Wikipedia commentary for more than two weeks. Jesus, that's gotta be a record even for me.

Hmm. You know, I'm thinking that this is another item that Rob has influenced me into resuming. Exercising was the first, and I'm actually coming up on a year that I've been (more or less) steadily exercising. There were a couple of months in there that I skipped my regimen, but on the whole it's the longest that I've managed to maintain an exercise program. And it all started with Rob turning me onto P90X. Now I'm only got back to this blog because Rob said that he wanted to get back to being more serious about his writing, and that got me thinking about it as well. This was...healthy, I think...for a while. Maybe it can be so again. I think I may need it again.

I was reading over Rob's resolutions for the New Year, and discovering a good number of them I could apply to myself as well. Looking back over 2009, I can't say there are many things I feel particularly proud about. No notable accomplishments. My dad asked me, just a few weeks ago, what I had accomplished in the past couple of years, and I found myself really reaching to answer him. I don't...have much, really. Exercising more, which mind you I'm fairly proud about, but there's still not much more, at least in the way that I would have liked, and I can't say that I have anyone to blame but myself. Did I even have goals, back in 2009? Or did I just float like a piece of flotsam along the waves, thinking I'll adjust to wherever the currents happened to take me? Even my writing, which I'm willing to admit now is one of the most important things to me, fell by the wayside only to be inconsistently picked up again. Kind of like a middle-aged hooker.

I don't know. I'll say this, though - Rob tends to push me, for some reason. Push me to be better than I am, and I can't say I have many friends that instill that reaction in me. I think it's because he's one of the few friends I have who actively and obviously strives to be better than he is, and that's...inspirational, I guess, is the only word I can find for it.

Switching lanes for a bit, I'm also noting that I seem to be getting less funny as I get older. My humor always seemed to tend more toward the Eeyore than the Oscar Wilde, and it's not getting any sharper with the impending onset of senility. Ah well. Dementia's kind of funny, right?