Downtown

I had an itch for adventure this evening, so after work, I headed off in search of it. Truth be told, I've been planning this for a week, so it wasn't exactly spontaneous, but it was nonetheless as exciting as I could have wished.

I ended up taking the bus downtown since the area I work in is not quite authentic adventure -- it's where the tourists go. Once I was on foot in the middle of Kansas City, I hiked to a bar I've heard wonderful things about and stopped for dinner and a frothy beverage. After I ate, I took the bus out of town back to the office.

Behold, evidence of my trek:

Permanent evidence of a past dispute.

I couldn't capture the tallest buildings (i.e. the one I was standing under), but there were shorter ones to the west.

My bus. The fare was cheaper than parking would have been.

I have never taken the bus, nor have I eaten dinner at a beer bar. Heck, I haven't been downtown before, not like this. I've been to the city -- I work close enough to qualify -- but this was literally right in the middle of the center of the city proper.

The trip was, quite literally, sensational. Cars echoed against the buildings, which towered higher than I could properly capture with a cell phone camera. I saw a man across the street in a salon cutting somebody's hair, except the stylist had no shirt on and a cigarette hanging from his mouth, and it looked very much like he was actually destroying what would otherwise have been a perfectly sensible haircut. The city smelled, too, the subtle yet unmistakable sweet scent of garbage (likely from the can in that last picture there) mixed with car exhaust and old pavement.

If I never return, I will remember this trip for a good, long time. That said, I can't imagine staying away for long. The city lives on, and it calls me from the north.

Blue Monkeys and Iced Tea

Redundant survey is redundant:

Sodas

The John Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health released a study this month which concluded that “liquid calorie intake had a stronger impact on weight than solid calorie intake.” I believe this study can be found in American Journal of Clinical Nutrition. Effectively, this study points an accusing finger at soft drinks and related beverages when it comes to our national obesity problem.

The researchers speculated, as a result of this study, that the body has more trouble regulating liquid calorie intake than solid calorie intake. Though the study didn't go as far as to speculate why, I figure this may be because adult humans have traditionally found the vast majority of our caloric needs in solid food, so we just don’t have the biological mechanisms in place to properly nourish ourselves with liquids.

In addition to that study, another paper released by John Hopkins in March in Biochemical and Biophysical Research Communications concluded with results that led researchers to hypothesize that while glucose tends to curb appetite (glucose is an important carbohydrate, and it makes sense that it would make us full), fructose, also an important carbohydrate, but which is often used in large quantities as a sweetener, may actually increase appetite. This study was not specific to soft drinks, but the lead author did identify soft drinks as the most notable source of high fructose sweeteners.

Coupled together, I’d say these two studies offer still more convincing evidence against daily consumption of soft drinks and sweetened beverages. I won’t say I never consume soda (I do love me some root beer), but when I do, I’m well aware it’s not just a thirst quencher. As a can of soda has140-ish calories, mostly from refined sugars, I tend to imagine an ounce and a half of table sugar in a ziplock bag and consider it a hefty dessert.

Balance

Without anything particularly interesting to write about, I sort of lost track of the blog. The thing is, I've had plenty of interesting things to write about, like the "Now Hiring" sign in the window of a local moving company called "Two Men and a Truck" and the warning on a cup of noodles that recommended holding the cup in an upright position to prevent spills. And, well, that's about it. I guess it has been a slow couple of months.

Then, tonight, while I was in my thought bubble at the gym, I figured I could write about my experiences there. A blog is but a place for vanity, after all, and even if blogging about health gets boring, it might at least build some posting momentum, so to speak.

One of my favorite things about exercise is the rapidity in improvement; I've only been at this for a couple months now. I'm still pale and stickly, but I feel a lot better about myself. Tonight, I hoisted 40lbs above my head ten times, then I hoisted those same 40lbs above my head ten full times again. Arnold would not be impressed, and that may sound like a silly thing to mention, but I'm proud of myself. That's the first time I've done two complete sets with that much weight.

On a whinier note, the Hip Adduction/Abduction Machine is not a knee-bike. It's a weight machine -- y'know, one of those things you have to focus on so as not only to prevent injury, but to actually get something out of the exercise you're performing. If you've lifted those silly weights thirty times between page-flips in your magazine, you're not lifting enough weight. Beyond the fact that you're just plain doing it wrong, that fat you're clearly trying to cut from your hips is just about as responsive to push-ups. Try out one of these instead. Honestly, they're as fun as they are cool-lookin', and your fat will melt away like ice cream. Even I'm getting slimmer around the middle, and I only consider that a side-effect.

Cheers. Here's hoping for the motivation for another update before two more months have passed.

Recipie

One of the best things about living alone is the ability to make what-the-heck-ever you want for dinner. I'm still getting over that. Granted, I eat a lot of oatmeal, and not all of my real meals are exactly palatable (kids, never take your parents' cooking for granted), but if I want a meal of boiled beets and fried sardines, well, I'll have one.

Tonight, I made beef stew. I realize there's little point to posting a recipe for stew, but I'm excited to have made a meal that actually tasted good enough for seconds.

Start with beef. When I went to the store, I asked the man behind the counter for a "handful or so" of chopped stew meat, then "a little more". I ended up with a bit over 1/2 lb. I browned said beef in a large pan with olive oil, but I forgot that beef tends to have plenty of fat by itself. I probably didn't need the oil.

While the beef is cooking, prepare the stew stuff. I had five or six of those baby red potatoes, a bunch of baby carrots, a few leaves of cabbage, half a yellow onion chopped into medium-ish pieces, and a handful of mushrooms. I also cut up three pieces of garlic and a bunch of thyme for seasoning.

After the beef is fully cooked, pour in a regular-sized can of beef broth and the same-sized can of water. I used the "low sodium" beef broth because it tastes pretty much the same and has 45% less heart attack, but I doubt it would really matter.

Dump in the previously prepared goodies. I had about a dinner bowl's worth, and it ended up working out pretty well. Add the garlic and thyme and a good bunch of ground black pepper. By "ground" pepper, I mean actual ground black peppercorns. That black snowy stuff from the condiment factory is not pepper.

Turn up the heat and boil. Once it's at a good boil, turn the heat down to where it'll settle down to tiny bubbles. Cover it, and leave it for an hour. Check occasionally for fire and stir while you're there.

.59 lb of meat plus a dinner bowl of prepared plant material plus a can of broth and a can of water looks like it would probably feed three people comfortably or two very hungry people. I "served" it with the standard whole wheat bread because a soup isn't really a soup if you don't have any bread to soak up the liquid with.

Hoo-ray. I'll have lunch tomorrow, too.

Drowned Rat

I had a strange dream in which the rat was swimming. She'd be underwater most of the time, as she actually lived in a tank of water. I remember wondering how long she had been living there and thinking it was a bit weird for a rat to live in an aquarium.

I had to keep a close eye on her. She would swim around near the bottom of the tank, and when she needed a breath, she would swim to the surface. Unfortunately, she didn't always make it to the surface in time. When she opened her mouth to take a breath underwater, I would have to fish her out and squeeze her to squirt the water out. She would reinflate with air, at which point I would breathe a sigh of relief and put her back in her tank.

When I took her out this afternoon, she kept chasing my feet and biting my toes. I think she was upset about the "wet habitat" thing, even though I was dreaming and didn't know any better.

Old Man Ranting

Our culture, thanks to a relatively recent obsession with self-esteem, feelings, and an “everybody’s a unique snowflake” attitude, is tainted with self-centeredness and a firm belief in one’s entitlement to whatever they very well please to have. If you remember your parents saying things like, “You can be anything you want, dear,” and, “You’re special just because you’re you,” you’re probably in the affected generations. As time passes, the number of self-important centers-of-the-world will increase. How old are the oldest, now? Thirty? Thirty-five? By the time they fill out the higher age brackets, there’ll be nobody left to say, “Why, back in my day…” and remind us we’re actually not the center of the universe. A society ruled by the principles of selfishness and hedonism will grow from the ashes of one formed from a spirit of cooperation and community.

Our level of consumer debt indicates not only a strong desire to consume, but a desire to consume things for free. A person who racks up thousands of dollars in debt on a credit card should not be allowed to declare bankruptcy and keep even a shred of clothing; he is, in fact, not entitled to a thing he hasn’t earned. To him, of course, he is, but bankruptcy, originally, was not intended as a purchasing mechanism for irresponsible, greedy consumers. [RESEARCH NEEDED]. What happens when more people decide they can’t pay back what they’ve borrowed? When the bankruptcy rate climbs to 5% or 10%, what’ll happen to the legitimate borrower? My sense of community goes a long way, but it does not go as far as paying off some lazy, jobless twit’s loan.

If you’ve worked in the service industry, you know well the sorts of nasty behavior today’s entitlement attitude leads to; an adult throwing a temper tantrum is a terrible thing to witness, indeed:

“I’m sorry, ma’am, all of our technicians are currently assisting other customers.”

“That’s correct. Our service orders are processed in the order they’re received.”

“No, ma’am. Unless you have a service-level agreement, we cannot prioritize your case over others.”

“I understand you run a business from your home. Most of our customers, in the midst of their tantrums, also run business from their homes.”

“Ma’am, listen. Wait. Your. Bloody. Turn. You were the screaming child at the supermarket I wished would earn a smack from her inattentive mother before I walked over and thumped you myself, weren’t you? If I didn’t send a truck (say, for example, they all exploded), you would have an outright stroke!”

“…”

“I know there’s a ‘Delete Ticket’ key here somewhere…”

Perhaps the last couple of lines were internal dialogue, but to overhear such a conversation is completely commonplace in a callcenter. Many people simply refuse to accept they’re no more important than anybody else. It’s denial, if it’s anything. Then, it’s anger. Finally, when they meet Saint Peter at the gates, well. They may be too late for acceptance at that point.

With all that said, some people are, indeed, more important than others. Some are cleverer, some are less apt to stumble over their shoestrings, and some contribute a great deal more to society than their peers. I am more important – more snowflakey – than some. Some, likewise, are more important than me. Most, though, are just as inconsequentially, mundanely average as I am. The mental gymnastics it takes to reach this conclusion are not as impossible as it’d seem. In Mr. Rogers’ neighborhood, I am perfectly unique, special in every way, and exemplary just for being me. In our neighborhood, the same holds true, but I realize in addition that being me takes a bit more than exchanging oxygen for carbon dioxide and carbohydrates for amino acids.

The person you are is defined by the work you do, the standard of ethics you maintain, and your attitude toward others. If you work at a mediocre job abiding by mediocre ethics and carrying a mediocre attitude, there’s nothing about you (save superficial things that don’t matter anyway, regardless of how much our culture tries to convince us otherwise) that makes you unique. This also means you’re entitled to nothing more or less than you earn, and as such, you’ll probably not gain anything – material or otherwise – that’s very far outside the definition of mediocre. There’s nothing wrong with you, mind. You’re just not particularly special. On the other hand, if you work to enrich your mind and better your community (which, I should specify, goes well beyond your “day job”), remain spotlessly ethical, and treat the folks around you well, you’ll be well on your way to greatness. You’ll be entitled to great things equal to the work you’ve put into your life.

Instead of, “You can be anything you want, dear,” and, “You’re special just because you’re you,” we need to adopt a more realistic vision. To my child, if he’s exemplary, I’ll say, “You can achieve any dream you work hard to follow.” If he’s not, I’ll say, “You have the capacity to be a very special person.” Those statements mean something. Instead of patting a kid on the head for simply having a head, those statements are akin to looking him in the eye and saying, “I’m glad you’re around.” It’s too late for the thirty-somethings, but for the kids we have, let’s raise them to be real people, shall we?