Bibliophiles Anonymous, Anyone?

Hello, everyone.

My name is Dave, and... And...

(Keep it together, damn it!)

...and I'm a bookaholic.

Please don't look down on me, because as much as I may be addicted to text, to the pleasures and minutiae of the written word, I am not a debilitated downer but rather a ravenous reader. I consume texts, at an alarming rate; but only rarely do they totally consume me. And when that does happen, I have the good sense to not wallow in my own self-awareness, but seek instead to share the joy of my discoveries to others. I refuse to be held down by my addiction; no, I rise up from it, like a phoenix new born with each new great read!

And besides, though I have submitted myself to the mercy of this outing, I do have more outlets than this for dealing with my obsession. Like LibraryThing, for instance. There aren't many places, after all, where I can exercise the same kind of compulsive control over my books as I do with the physical collection that sits on my bookshelves -- alphabetical by author, chronological by date of publication, and almost all in looks-like-they-were-never-even-read condition. Plus, as one constantly on the lookout for new reads, groups like "1001 Books to Read Before You Die" fit wonderfully for people like me who set absurdly excessive goals and hold ridiculously unreasonable expectations for themselves. Plus it gives me at least 900 more future acquisitions.

So, as you might expect, the last thing you want to do with someone like me is to put me in a position where I can acquire a large number of books at one time, particularly if that acquisition comes at little or no cost to me. Which is precisely what happened a week and a half ago.

The Thursday before last, my ENGL 602 class (a 75-minute weekly seminar that teaches us how to teach rhetoric and composition classes) did not meet in its normal setting but rather held a book fair, featuring four major textbook publishers. The goal of the fair was to see a variety of books in the hopes that, having seen them, you'll know which text you'll want to use next year when there is no more 602 and you're essentially on your own. For me, though the required first-year book, Making Sense, was organized rather well, it had a huge number of readings, few of which I used in class. For as much money as textbooks cost, I want to make sure I use them for all they're worth, so I went to the fair looking for a brief, compact book that explained different varieties of essay styles and perhaps a more accessible way of introducing grammar into my classroom.

Shortly after arriving, I fell upon one of my all-time textbook loves, Strunk and White's The Elements of Style. Sure, not everyone is in love with this book, but it's compulsively readable in the strangest way, and I love that it presents its case in a prescriptive but firm style. Like Lynne Truss's books, I may not agree with everything this says, but I damn sure love that they stick to it with conviction. Plus, let's face it, grammar texts that students will want to read don't come around often.

I must have been coddling the book a little too closely for a little too long because I was approached by a rep from the publishing house. I was planning on my polite refusal of assistance, and started sidling slowly away to avoid whatever pitch I anticipated she was planning, but instead of trying to sell me on something, she merely invited me to -- gasp! -- take the book. Just take it.

W-w-what?!

Turns out all I had to do was provide a little contact info and I could take any book on their table. Suddenly, my world opened up. I could take any books I wanted, at no cost to me! The fair was suddenly middling no longer.

I perused the next two publishers' tables in depth, looking for any books that caught my eye. Sadly, there weren't many, although I was able to snag a copy of the brief edition of Everything's an Argument, a text I'd heard through the grapevine would fit my needs rather well. So I had my potential textbook and my grammar guide -- mission accomplished!

Of course, I hadn't reached the fourth table yet. And when I saw who was at this fourth table, my jaw almost literally dropped.

Norton.

I feel like non-academics might not quite understand how big a deal this is, so permit me to pander just a touch here. Norton is the publisher of two of the finest academic resources for literary scholars: the Norton Critical Edition, landmark texts that are loaded with critical essays and explanatory glosses; and Norton Anthologies, which are essentially the industry-standard one-stop-shop for the important texts of literary history. So for the English graduate student, this table was a damn-near-literal bookgasm of monumental proportions.

They had Norton Critical Editions. They had Norton Anthologies (LOTS of them). They had other, less well-known collections. They had random great books (like Kafka's Amerika and Seamus Heaney's translation of Beowulf). And best of all, in fitting with the nature of the fair, all of these were up for grabs if we wanted them, simply by signing our name.

When it was all said and done, I wasn't sure how many I signed up for, but I felt a little bad for having asked for so much -- so bad that I helped bring boxes of books back to Burroughs to be placed in mailboxes. (Full disclosure: It also didn't hurt that the Norton rep was young, cute, and female.) I knew I wasn't getting any of those books that day, but I knew they would have to come eventually.

Eventually meant yesterday. There, sitting in the mailroom, were three relatively large boxes weighing an absurd amount. Carrying them to the bus, then to my car, then into my apartment -- in the rain, no less -- was a chore, but when I got inside and opened the boxes, the effort was suddenly well worth it.

Between the texts I'd gotten from Norton, and the couple others I'd requested that also came, I had about twenty new books. Including FIVE Norton Anthologies -- English Literature (Eighth Edition), volumes 1 and 2; American Literature (Seventh Edition); Short Fiction (Seventh Edition); and Shakespeare (Second Edition). It didn't take much math for me to figure out that these books alone (which are roughly 3000 pages each) constituted an absurd amount of text, and there was much more beneath them.

So I did a quick count after I'd opened everything. In the end, the amount of pages I received in that shipment was roughly 19,500.

I'll type that one more time, just in case you think it's a typo. 19,500. As in, nineteen thousand five hundred pages.

Given this revelation, what do you think the bibliophile in me thought? If you guessed that I was satisfied, you're only partially right. Because as soon as I noticed how close I was to a nice round number, I simply couldn't resist taking a little trip and reaching the milestone.

So I ventured out to the Barnes & Noble on the Benner Pike and bought a book that I've walked past in the bookstores many a time before, but simply couldn't bring myself to buy. Until yesterday. James Joyce's Ulysses. Which, based solely on its reputation, is probably going to bring the pain, and bring it hard.

But having acquired that, I can now claim that in one day, I received over twenty thousand pages of text, and for it all I paid a grand total of $16.22.

My name is Dave, and I am a bookaholic.

The story should end here, since I've come full-circle. But since I finally gave in and bought the book that I've known for a while would challenge me like few others, I decided to truly go for the gusto. I searched on Amazon earlier tonight, and with a few quick clicks, committed myself to my reading project for the summer.

Marcel Proust's À la recherche du temps perdu (or In Search of Lost Time, in English). A novel that is over 4,000 pages in length -- in the Modern Library translation, 4,344 pages, to be exact. The novel that holds the Guinness record for the longest novel ever published in English. And the novel that, despite a number of highly avant-garde and unpublished works that have emerged in the last century, still remains the longest novel ever to be published and popularly received in English.

This is the task that I have voluntarily set myself to for the summer, despite having acquired over 20,000 pages of new text in the past 48 hours alone.

My name is Dave, and I am a bookaholic. And I fear I am too far gone to be saved.

Have mercy on me.

M.lb. - Week 5

Day 29
April 28, 2008
Weight:   x - 7

Progress: Alright, I'll admit it. I think trying to not lose weight during a weekend when I knew I was not going to pay much attention to calories, health content, or moderation was probably a misguided idea. Still, given the circumstances, and the fact that I honestly didn't eat as badly as I thought I was going to, I didn't end up falling off the wagon too badly. I lost only a little bit of ground, and this week should get me back on track.

Mostly what I've learned from The Weekend in terms of eating is that it's definitely the drinking that does me in. We drank a lot this weekend, and though Friday wasn't exactly a banner day in terms of knowing what and what not to eat, at the end of it all, I didn't eat nearly as much as I thought I was going to -- but did drink about as much as I'd anticipated. I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that most of the regain was empty calories from the booze, so we know that I can't afford to go all out and go on a bender if I want to keep myself on track.

Goals for the Week: The primary goal, obviously, is to make up the ground I lost. I was fortunate to have only gained a pound, and by next week's weigh-in, I'd like to see myself back to at least the x - 8 marker I'd hit at the beginning of Week 4. If I can make up the ground, I'll at least prove to myself that the gain, and not the loss, has been the fluke, which will do wonders, I'm sure, for my mental condition as I continue on this plan.

The only other goal is to try and remain focused and in the gym each day this week, considering that the semester's end is sneaking up on me and that means papers and projects are bearing down. All told, though I'm stressing, it's not nearly as bad as it seems once I get down to it and start working. So the goals will be the make sure that work stress doesn't push me to make bad eating choices or cheat on something that I should know better than to have. I need to start building momentum for the trip home, where I won't have the convenience of a daily gym regimen, and so it's time to start committing for real to those eating habits and carry them through the summer. It all starts here.

Avalanche Warning

Just a little teaser/heads-up post to warn all two or three of my loyal readers that you are about to be inundated with a barrage of mid- to high-quality content.

I currently have five posts in process, none of which are done and all of which I'd like to try and get out this week, if my work load allows.

Sometime later this evening, I'll post the shorter-than-usual M.lb. update for the week (it's not looking too pretty, so I may be cutting back substantially on that one).

In addition, as teased on Friday, there are three posts in progress for each day of The Weekend, which I promise will be exciting reading when they're all done.

Finally, for those literate types out there -- you know who you are, checking the Bibliophilistic link over on the sidebar when no one's looking; it's cool, your secret's safe with me -- I'll be posting one of my irregularly-scheduled "interesting day posts." I know I just said in the last post that I'm not a fan of teasers, but the punchline of today's events is that I acquired over 20,000 pages worth of reading today and paid less than $17.00 for all of it. Stay tuned for the explanation.

And as for the rest of it, it'll be coming soon enough, I promise. So just relax and, as The Raconteurs would say, "Take it as it comes, and be thankful when it's done."

Capital T, Capital W

I'm not normally a fan of teaser posts, but this one is just way too exciting not to mention.

Weeks of planning, edge-of-my-seat twists, and near-breathless anticipation have almost ended. The plans are settled, the arrangements are certain, the anticipation is waning.

The moment is here.

While there are obviously no guarantees, Fate has in many ways conspired to provide us with, at the very least, the potential of one of those gatherings of mythic proportions. A weekend so stacked with a combination of kick-ass activities and desperate need that it should, by all accounts, become legendary upon execution.

And that execution begins in just a few short hours.

I will attempt, if possible, to blog on-the-spot this weekend, though I promise nothing. At the very least, a full recap will be provided upon return. But when you hear about it isn't important.

No matter what happens, this train don't stop till Monday morning. And it's going to be one hell of a ride.

So hold on tight, kids.

The Weekend is here...

M.lb. - Week 4

Day 22
April 21, 2008
Weight:  x - 8

Progress: At last!  The wall I've been waiting to break through has officially been busted open! I definitely thought I was in for it this weekend, what with going home to visit the family and not having access to the gym, but I guess my eating habits made up for it because my body finally realized I'm serious about slimming down.

This is a really good feeling, obviously. But I'm trying to temper it with just a little bit of disbelief, so that I understand things won't be progressing at this rate for very long. In fact, I was so stunned by what I saw when I jumped on the scale this morning that I stepped off, recalibrated it, and tried again -- only to find the same number staring me back in the face! (Of course, I didn't dare try a third time, lest I unduly tempt the weight-management gods.)

I finally feel as if my work is paying off, and I certainly didn't get punished for my trip home this weekend. On the ride back to Jersey, I stopped off at a Cracker Barrel, where I ate about half the meal I was given and took the rest home. On Saturday, at my cousin's First Communion, I had a little bit of everything, but emphasized the "little" bit: it allowed me to try it all, not feel stuffed, and still feel free to enjoy a little bit of cake in the end. Sunday was little more than my dinner, which was substantive but not my usual stuff-your-face-before-the-drive-back meal, and now I find I have not paid for missing out on the gym these past few days.

Frankly, this is the kind of change I've been waiting for: knowing that I don't have to rely entirely on getting to the gym in order to lose weight. When I saw the cardiologist back in September, he had told me about this. He mentioned that cardiovascular exercise is never a bad idea, but that losing weight for real is more about what (and how much) one eats than is it about getting regular exercise. So even though I haven't been to the gym for three days, a trend I will kick later today, it still has worked out that my eating habits have continued to drive my weight loss success.

Goals for the Week: This week's goals are surprisingly modest, because it's gonna be a doozy for the next seven days. With all the things I need to work on for classes, I'm sure I'll be tempted to fall off the wagon a little bit, but I need to resist that temptation. In addition, this weekend is The Weekend, when I go to visit Alicia and see a bunch of totally awesome bands and engage in other such craziness. Knowing this is coming, I need to be as diligent as possible for the remaining five days so that I don't go overboard and blow it. Friday I know I'll be hitting the gym, so I'll be alright that night, and Sunday I won't be drinking because of the need to drive home -- so if I can moderate Saturday okay, I should be fine for the week.

In all honesty, my goal for the next week is to simply not gain. With all the possibilities present for not sticking to the plan, but with a strong new resolve to remain focused, I just want to minimize the damage I'm sure to partake in this weekend. It'll be interesting to see how drinking affects my plan: I've been noticeably alcohol-free for the past three weeks (save for a couple of screwdrivers on Saturday and some beer at poker), but I anticipate there will be some degree of intoxication involved this weekend, which translates naturally to empty calories. The key, of course, will be to exercise moderation as best I can and try to move around a bit on Saturday to offset the beers preemptively. (Perhaps I might be able to convince Alicia that [at least] one venture to the gym is in order?)

I truly feel that if I can get through this week and not gain any of what I've already lost, I'll be in really good shape to work hard for the last two weeks of the semester and begin parlaying the new diet and exercise regimens into a summer of healthy eating and continued success. My goal for this project all along has been to try and lose 1-2 pounds a week, which would result in a loss of somewhere between 20 and 40 pounds by the tux fitting and, if I kept it up, about 25-50 pounds lost by Tony's wedding.

If I were to hit the high end of that tux-fitting mark (which would put us some time in August), I would once again be back around that mark I hit junior year, when I weighed the least I had since high school. That would be a damn good feeling to have again. And that's going to be the motivation I use to keep at this plan and stay driven.

Remember The Thirty-Two

It's been one year.

After all my issues with taxes were finally resolved yesterday, I at last had some time to relax and think about things with some clarity -- at which point I realized that it was a mere day away from the one-year anniversary of the tragedy at Virginia Tech. It hadn't entirely snuck up on me: I'd seen an article in USA Today a week or so ago that made mention of the upcoming anniversary, so it was always in the back of my mind. I guess it just didn't compute that it's the day after tax day (but then, tax day was never an issue for me like it was this year).

It really hit me during seminar yesterday, when Danielle called from home with the slightest tinge of panic in her voice. I quickly learned that she had banged her car up a little bit and was upset over that, but I harbor my suspicions that her mind wasn't only on her car when she called me.

Last night I had a chance to really sit and reflect, and the more I thought about everything -- about all the thoughts and feelings I'd had that cold April day last year when I literally woke up to the news -- the more unsettled I became. I couldn't sleep last night, first staying up because I couldn't will myself tired, then tossing and turning once I'd resigned myself to my bed.

By the time morning came, I resolved to myself that there was something within me I needed to exorcise today, to make peace with how I felt about all this. Because, for one thing, my most tangible connection to the tragedy is back in New Jersey, probably wishing I could be there to hug and hold on this day -- a feeling I most assuredly held last April 16th. But she had her church, and she went to mass this morning to reflect and pray, which is an admirable and proper thing to do if that's your inclination. It is not, however, mine.

In the end, I decided to use my class as a forum to get some things off my chest. I reserved the end of class this morning to simply address my students face to face, telling them about what it felt like for me to live vicariously through the tragedy, the anxiety I felt while waiting to hear how people I knew were doing and the powerlessness I felt to help anything or console anyone I cared about.

Then I told a story.

I won't repeat that story here, for the sake of space and because I certainly wouldn't want the person whom it concerns to stumble upon this blog and have to relive that experience again. But the truth is, it was thinking about that story that kept me up last night. I put my current malaise into perspective and tried to imagine what it must have been like to have had one's world, one's security so devastatingly rocked. Or what it must be like for the survivors, some of whom were saved by someone who never made it out.

I still can't fathom that. How can you even begin to come to terms with the idea that someone else gave you a second chance at life? Especially at such a young age, an age of blissful ignorance. An age where you go to class like any other day and can't imagine that on that very day you'll come within a hairsbreadth of the beyond. It's a depressing, morbid thought, I know, but I just can't help but think about that, struggling with it, unable to comprehend it. I pray I'll never have to.

For those I know who are in that situation, or who are simply coming to terms with being a survivor of the tragedy, I have both sympathy and the utmost respect for you. The character of the Hokies, both those who have since left Blacksburg and those who stayed without hesitation, is unflappable; they are stoic, loyal, and courageous, and any one of us should be proud to know them and be associated with them.

As for me, technically I'm only a Hokie by association, but there's a lot of strength in the conviction, repeated so often last year, that at these times, we are all Hokies.

Today is the day to remember that sense of community, the combined strength that gets all of through times like those that transpired a year ago. It's a day to, as I entreated my students, remember how lucky we are for the opportunities we have, and to remind ourselves never to take those opportunities for granted because we just never know.

But on top of all that, today is a day to remember. To remember not just the blessings but to remember the thirty-two souls who never imagined when they woke up on April 16, 2007 that it would be their last day. The way we keep them alive is to think of them and to think often, to keep their memories alive.

There's no need to bring any politics or opinions or even emotions into that act either. It's too tempting to use tragedy for particular agendas, and like I told my students, though my views are pretty solid, what those views and their justifications are is just not relevant. What is relevant -- all that is relevant -- is that we remember.

So even though the day is nearly over, I encourage you, if you haven't already, to simply take a moment and think about The Thirty-Two. Think about them and think about all the survivors and all the people affected and think about all those things you don't normally take the time to think about. When it comes down to it, those are the only things that matter, and it's a shame we need moments like these to put that in perspective.

Stay strong, Tech. Hokie, Hokie, Hokie, Hi!

Taxed

You don't have to be an employee of the IRS, the United States Postal Service, Jackson Hewitt, H&R Block, or any other tax preparation company to know that April 15 is a terrible day. Like most good academic deadlines, it's stressful, unwavering, and feels horribly unfair and unnecessary.

This year has been a particularly tricky one for me because of the move to Pennsylvania for grad school, a change that has not only necessitated multiple state returns (which are a bitch to figure out, even with tax-for-dummies-like-me software like TurboTax) but has also, as far as I can figure, pushed me into a higher tax bracket.

Forgive me for challenging the greater gods of the Internal Revenue Service, but are you fucking kidding me? Without delving into the specifics of my financial situation, I think it's fairly safe to assume that, as a graduate student, with particular emphasis on student, I don't make a whole lot of money. And sure, I made more this year than I ever have in one year. (Though it sure doesn't feel that way -- damn you, rent!) But I still find it hard to believe that my Penn State stipend pushed me so far into a new bracket that my refund should plummet like it did.

And that's before I even got to the state returns. I first attempted to straighten out my tax situation over spring break, and found myself increasingly frustrated by my multi-state situation. The Federal return, unfair though I deemed it to be, still made sense and calculated the same refund every time I did it. No reason to believe I'd done anything wrong.

It was dealing with state taxes that totally threw me. First I tried claiming part-time residence in Pennsylvania. When they insisted that I absolutely must have some income from my farm, I abandoned that route. I read a little more carefully and realized, to my then-pleasure, that being a college student meant that I didn't have to claim residency while at school, so I could simply be a New Jersey resident (a fact that, tax complications aside, never ceases to make me smile). I presumed this would make things much easier.

Au contraire, mon frere! Because now we're entering the world of the nonresident return, which is fairly complicated when you consider that relatively equal parts of my income this year came from New Jersey sources (two W-2s from NJ employers) and from Penn State (one additional W-2). That, and apparently Pennsylvania and New Jersey have a reciprocal tax agreement with each other, so that income earned in one state while a resident of the other isn't subject to double-taxing. How convenient!

But navigating the waters of how to apply this agreement, and how to qualify which sources of income should be taxed by which state is, for lack of a better term, taxing -- not only to me, but to my illustrious tax-prep software. I came up with several very different scenarios while at home: one had me owe New Jersey $95, one had me owe them $0, one gave me a refund of $118! And this didn't even include my attempts at a Pennsylvania nonresident return quite yet, as I wasn't sure it was necessary.

As soon as TurboTax came to the MacBook (and, subsequently, back to State College), the solution was cleared up: yes, I need a Pennsylvania return. And despite my work at home assuring me that I would owe no Pennsylvania taxes, no sooner did I crunch the numbers than I owed Pennsylvania a staggering $283, on top of the $95 I owed New Jersey.

This, I deduced, was fucked up. That was more than my Federal refund, and thusly, it made no sense at all.

The end result of all this rigmarole was that I claimed (I believe properly) that all my income is to be taxed by New Jersey, so none of my New Jersey-earned income is subject to PA taxes, nor is my stipend subject to PA taxes (the W-2 says so). So I owe Pennsylvania nothing, and I still owe New Jersey $95 -- which, still, makes no sense to me. But at this point, I've decided that I can't put this off anymore and that maybe, if there's a just and loving god somewhere, the State of New Jersey may somehow realize that I'm a poor, hard-working kid who's gotten screwed by the tax system, and maybe I'll get a surprise refund after the fact.

Yeah, and maybe the Cubs will win a World Series sometime this century. I'll believe both when I see them. (Caveat: Sorry, Mary.)

All of this has me thinking, however, why April, wondrous month of springtime renewal and amusement park re-openings and glorious, glorious baseball that it is, should feature so many unfortunate days. (Remember April Fool's Day?) Hell, even last year, when the dreaded thesis bore down on me, I didn't quite have this sense of emptiness and ennui as I do this time around. Why should that be?

I posited this question to my friend Alicia, who, even in comparison to me and my frustrations, has been having an abysmal last few days. She's been sick, stressed out with too much work and too little time to do it (I'll be there soon, too; it just hasn't hit me yet), and this morning ran into a little car trouble that, after a quick diagnostic check at the local repair shop, quickly morphed into a lot of car trouble. She gets the whole April malaise just as badly as I do, if not worse. I listened patiently to the tale of her plights, offering what little useless advice I could, then accepted her invitation to share my own.

Upon hearing of my tax struggles, she reminded me of one crucial point I'd forgotten: her father is an accountant.

And, naturally, since every accountant on Earth is pulling their hair out today, she could offer little more than, "I'd have you call my dad, but it's, you know, April 15. Live and learn, eh?"

At least now I know for next year.

M.lb. - Week 3

Day 15
April 14, 2008
Weight:  x - 1

Progress: It's taken two weeks, but I've finally seen some (albeit small) results. I'm down one pound from when I started this thing, and yet I'm still frustrated by a number of issues that I feel are keeping me from really progressing.

Firstly, I'm frustrated by the fact that a single pound could represent little more than a standard weight fluctuation -- and if that's the case, my progress over two weeks has been minimal at best. I understand that I'm not necessarily eating as well as I could, but every day I try to do at least a little rough math on my calorie intake and I find it very hard to fathom that, given the amount of exercising I'm doing in comparison with how relatively little I'm eating, my progress has been this slow. I feel like when I was doing this junior year, I was eating far more in a day than I am now, and was seeing much better results much sooner. I'm trying to remain focus, but I'm putting a lot of effort into this and the snail's pace that it's going at has me pretty irritated.

In addition, I fear for what could happen if I take, say, a weekend and let myself go a little bit. I know for a fact that a great deal of my current weight issues stems from one week of vacation last summer, and while that was an exceptional example of letting myself go, I still wonder if all this is being held in such a tenuous balance that if I slip just a little, the whole thing will fall apart. That's a bigger worry than any other because, while I know I can be good and keep this together for awhile, I don't want to feel like all the work can be undone in one fell swoop because that will kill my motivation.

Fortunately, I still feel good working out. I haven't significantly tired yet, even though I upped my output to six days a week (Thursdays are just unreasonable in terms of working out), and I've been trying to do something cardio-related for at least 30 minutes, and in most cases 40 minutes. That adds up to roughly 400-500 calories a session, which puts me at right around the same weekly pace I was at a few years ago. I'm thinking perhaps the next step is to start eliminating potential problem foods from the diet in order to keep pace.

Goals for the Week: The main goal is to keep up the exercise and try to start doing something about the food. Beth's advice about "the sigh" is great, and I wish I'd have followed it last night as it would have saved me a significant streak of discomfort. At this point, however, I really only give myself a treat once a week -- and by a treat, I mean a whole meal that's not ideal (like the Five Guys I finally gave in and had for lunch today). I've been feeling like it's okay because I'm doing the exercise too, but I think it's time I started really concentrated on making smart eating choices when I have a choice -- and that includes not eating to excess at parties and/or social functions.

The other major goal, in keeping with the theory of "the sigh," is to simply start working on portion control. Last time around I let my body naturally start relying on less and less food, but I need to take a more diligent role in making it happen this time. I need to pay attention to my eating, and especially the amount of water I drink with meals, as that affects my stomach capacity immensely. Mostly, I need to start feeling unafraid to put something aside as a leftover and save it for another day; if I can start making one big meal turn into two smaller meals, I won't get that full-up feeling that I hate and I'll probably be able to deal better with eating, which is really the source of all this.

Two weeks down, and we're finally getting somewhere. Let's hope to keep the trend alive next week!

M.lb. - Week 2

Day 8
April 7, 2008
Weight:  x

Progress: One week of my project is officially in the books -- and, unfortunately, the progress has been far slower than I'd anticipated. After I returned home from class this afternoon, I hopped on the scale having eaten only a banana thus far today. And found that my weight was exactly the same as it was when I took my first measurement last Monday.

This is, obviously, rather discouraging, but I'm going to try and keep my head up for a number of very convincing reasons, the first of which is the role of one particularly egregious bingeing session on Friday night. As an end-of-pay-week celebration, Danielle and I dined at the Olive Garden, where I partook in the Asiago Steak entrée I'd been jonesing after for weeks. Unfortunately, I also partook in an appetizer which, when combined with the entrée and the massive bowl of salad we were delivered, turned out to be way too much food. Like, borderline-vomiting too much. It was awful, and it reminded me of why I hate the way I look so much.

So I'm thinking that I've learned a lesson from my experience at the Olive Garden, which is that portion control must be exercised even more steadfastly when I'm not eating at home. Fair enough. And sure, Danielle and I took care of a bit more of the bunny this week (there's nothing but head left), but we spaced it out in such a way that I truly don't believe it had an impact on my result.

The key for me is that I've been trying to improve my fitness by getting myself to the gym with some kind of regularity. In all honesty, the motivation of getting off my ass is the toughest part, because once I'm actually at the gym, I tend to give it my all. Fortunately, that has not translated yet into feelings of death after I finish working out -- in fact, I tend to finish a little breathless but still feeling good about myself. Sure, I'm a bit flushed, but I'm also out of shape, so I'm okay with that for now. As long as I'm not getting coughing fits or feeling dizzy or lightheaded, I'm going to keep at this pace and see what happens.

My biggest gym-related challenge at this point is the middle of my week. Wednesday and Thursday are not good workout days, and as much as I feel like I'd be okay with five days a week, I know it's just not going to be enough to get the results I want. I'll have to figure out ways to get Wednesday workouts in (even if that means coming home to shower sometime during my four-hour afternoon break -- which, naturally, requires that I be prepared for Chaucer before Wednesday afternoon), at which point I should feel okay about skipping Thursdays. As for today, however, I'm a little sore, though I'm trying to convince myself that I'll at least get out some time later and sit on the bike for a little while just to keep my momentum going.

Goals for the Week: My main goal for the week is modest: I'd like the scale to register something below x this time next week. I honestly believe if I can fit one more day of the gym and avoid the one evening of gluttony that I believe set me back this week, I should be in the red next week no problem.

In terms of major changes, I'm thinking about what things I tend to fill up on a lot and where I might be able to make small changes here and there. For the time being, my major empty calories come from alcohol and coffee -- mostly from the coffee, since my drinking averages out to less than one drink per day. However, I'm convinced that if I work on regulating the amount of sugar, milk, and/or creamer that goes into the coffee, rather than cutting it out entirely, I can keep it in there. My snacking hasn't been bad except for the bunny, which should be done by the end of the week and thusly no longer an issue. If there's any major dietary change I need to stick with, it's trying to get some salad into my diet every day, since my vegetable consumption sucks.

What I'm mostly discovering is that I don't eat terribly, and I don't feel like I have to starve myself to get results. I just need to be more careful with my portions, trying to make large portions last for two or more meals, and make sure I stop eating when I'm not hungry anymore. I'll also work on trying to fill up on water during the day in order both to hydrate and to fend off any potential hunger pangs.

All relatively minor changes, to be sure. I'll implement them for a week and see what happens next Monday.

Fuck April Fools Day

I'm serious. I hate this holiday.

First of all, I'm probably being way too generous with that term. It used to be that holidays were restricted to "holy days" (crazy notion, eh?) or, at a not-so-painful linguistic stretch, a day on which people could escape the joylessness of work and relax, spending the day with family and friends, perhaps with a modicum of fine liquors, and most certainly without any undue stress.

April Fools Day in no way satisfies that final condition, not when those of us humorless saps spend the day trying to avoid the jerks who crawl out of the woodwork on days like this and get their fill of pranks, puns, and parodies before the day is through. There's nothing relaxing about trying to get some snide idiot to make a single honest, straightforward comment without spewing "April Fools!" in your face and laughing that stupid hyena laugh that can only be ascribed to those for whom the lowness of their level of social etiquette and tact is rivaled only by that of their sense of humor (on an objective scale, of course).

Besides, April Fools clearly falls in line with the trinity of fake holidays used to fill the winter -- I refer, of course, to Valentine's Day, St. Patrick's Day, and today. I'm convinced these days exist as "holidays" solely because someone far older and far wiser (and probably far deader) than I realized that Christmas (and, to a certain degree, yes, New Year's) occur right at the beginning of winter, and with the exception of President's Day (and really, who actually celebrates that? anyone?), the somber cold season clambers on with nary a real holiday until the full vestiges of spring have sprung and we're ready for Memorial Day. None of these holidays are real or really that important!

• Valentine's Day, though it may have begun as a saint's day, is now either a) a Hallmark holiday, b) a battleground between the single and the attached, or c) a day to honor the great Al Capone and his contributions to the celebrations.


• St. Patrick's Day, also initially a saint's day, has now turned into nothing more than an excuse for amateurs to step out and drink themselves stupid because they have an excuse (see also: New Year's Day); and, notwithstanding Guinness's "valiant" efforts to legitimate it via their Proposition 3-17 campaign, nothing so blatantly underscores the shallowness of this day quite like the concept, straight out of Happy Valley, of "State Paddy's Day," a day specifically designated for St. Patrick's-like activity (read: drinking to excess) because St. Patrick's Day often falls during Penn State's spring break (read: we wanna get wasted at school too!).


• April Fools Day, like its March counterpart, provides only an excuse for the dregs of society to show their faces for 24 hours without fear of rebuke or retribution, but in this case, instead of targeting alcoholics, we target assholes instead.

This April Fools Day, however, was an occasion for marking two rather interesting and noteworthy events. Firstly, because of a rather unfortunate and untimely rain delay yesterday, the Yankees home opener -- one of the few games in their history scheduled to be played in March, go figure -- was rescheduled for this evening. Normally, though impatient for the return of my boys, I would be okay with this; however, ESPN employs lying sacks of shit (caveat: not you, Amy) who told me they'd be broadcasting the game but then instead opted to show the NCAA women's tournament.

Brief Digression: Hey Yankees, I know it's only the first game of the season, and I'm probably getting worked up over nothing, but 3-2 against the Blue Jays? Don't you think we can do better than that? I do. Because sure, we got seven solid innings out of Chien-Ming Wang, and the Joba-Mariano connection in the 8th and 9th worked almost like a charm. And yeah, A-Rod the RBI machine picked up right where he left off at the end of the regular season last year. But that 8th inning was an embarrassment: Johnny Damon leads off with a triple, and no one can bring him in? This kind of shit ruined the last few postseasons, and I hope this little incident isn't a harbinger of things to come. Just sayin'.

As the Smashing Pumpkins taught us, however, "the end is the beginning is the end" (or was it "the beginning is the end is the beginning"...I can never keep that straight), and as the Yankees opened a new season, the bookstore heralded a long-awaited present that punctuated with near-certainty the career of one of my favorite writers.

Those of you who were reading this at this time last year may recall my reaction to the death of Kurt Vonnegut. I still consider him one of my literary heroes, and the news of a posthumous book of unpublished work, Armageddon in Retrospect, made my heart soar at the end of 2007. Finally, after months of waiting, the book came out today, and my ravenous appetite for the text consumed the better part of my afternoon. For me, a fan and aficionado of the man's entire literary career, it was a warm, inviting reminder of the talent we lost, a book that, though it speaks of the serious but topical issue of war, still manages to come across as comforting. (You can read my full review here, on LibraryThing.)

Danielle, however, is not so much a fan of Mr. Vonnegut, try as I may. But she was excited to see the acquisition for which I'd pined so many months, so this evening I showed her the book. She flipped it over, looked at the picture on the back, and squealed with delight. After explaining to me why, she confessed, "I love Kurt Vonnegut a little bit more now!"

So what was it that sent her girlish squeaking all a-flitter? Try and figure it out yourself. Here's the photo in question:



Have you guessed? Here, verbatim, is her explanation:

"It's a lawn gnome riding on top of a pig!"

That's right, folks. Arguably the finest literary genius of our time, reduced to a kitschy ornamentation hanging from his garden door.

I am so glad April Fools Day is over. Fuck this day.