15 Years

It hit me like a plot twist from a J.J. Abrams show: it has been 15 years since I graduated High School. That's time enough to have raised a car-driving teenager. Time enough to send our troops to three different countries for fighting. Time enough for love.

This realization caused me to become painfully introspective, and linger on what has been, what is, and what will be. Pretty heavy stuff, right. The truth is that I have always had a hard time with long-term planning. Not that I don't know what direction to go, it's that there are too many directions that I would like to take.Too many opportunities.

I need some time to figure some big questions out here. What's next? I'm not sure. I know that I'm not alone in this, and that two heads are really better than one! Becky has done a great job keeping me grounded with no matter what crazy dream/idea I think of. I know in the end it will be great, and the best adventure ever.

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Mr. Universe vs. Mr. Little Mountain

The picture above, as you have already guessed, is my twin. You can only tell us apart because I had dental work done to fix the gap in my front teeth. 

Becky and I got the gumption to head for the gym this evening and pump some iron. What happened though was anything but pumping. It was more like a fierce negotiation. It really hit me today that I am getting old, and out of shape. I personally haven't been to the gym in almost 10 weeks. Sure, there were many days where we were just too busy for fitness, and some of those days were in fact legitimately busy. I think that I became complacent with not going, and always having the excuse of "There's STUFF that I want to get done tonight." 

Usually that STUFF ended up being endless distractions on the interwebs, or a show I had to watch. When my legs hobbled their way off of the treadmill, destroying a distance of 1.4 miles, it hit me hard. The nearly pulled muscle in my leg screamed to me of what has happened to my body. I'm weak. I'm flabby. And sadly, it's all my fault. 

Growing up can be a challenge. The world doesn't care if you eat your vegetables, or brush your teeth at night. We need to be the change that we want to see in this world (thank you Gandhi) so that tomorrow can be better than today. Let's try to improve ourselves each day, so that today we can say that we are better than yesterday. That's what I learned today.

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Resolutions for a New Year

By now, most people have stopped going to the gym, trying to eat more veggies, or waking up a bit earlier to jog in the morning. This is the time where most are falling off of their wagon on New Year's Resolutions, and settle back into their old habits. I'm a little behind the curve in coming up with any resolutions for the year 2012, because I want them to be something that was more meaningful, reachable, and specific than "lose weight" or "save money." So I took time to pen down my list. I call it, "12 Things to do in 2012." Witty, I know. So here's the list in my own shorthand form:

1. Actually write a book.
2. Little Mountain Climbs.
3. Surviving Rochester.
4. Become an Expert.
5. Log Running 300 miles this year.
6. Read the Bible all the way through.
7. Build my personal brand.
8. Build over the bed shelves.
9. Build Kitchen Block Island.
10. Make People Count.
11. Learn 12 Awesome Songs on Guitar.
12. 1K a month.

They might sound weird when you first read them, but there was a lot of thought around these. Some are easy to get to, like building some shelves. So here's where I need you, the reader. I need you to help keep me accountable. Bug me. Pester me. You are the ones who can give me the kick in the behind that I need. I will flesh some of these out in later posts, and you will see what is going on in my attempt to make all of these happen. Ask away if you have any questions!

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IKEA is a Four-Letter Word

IKEA, my arch-nemesis. We met again this last Saturday. Walking through their maze of contemporary furnishings that create a sense of euphoria for the masses reminded me how Jonah felt in the belly of a great fish. I am swallowed, and digested through mind-numbing patterns and indecipherable Swedish names that call to me like sirens. I toyed with the idea of tying myself the the shopping cart and stuffing wool in my ears to avoid their call, but I couldn't find rope that was strong enough for the task.

IKEA is not my enemy, though. I realize that now. The enemy had been well-hidden underfoot, and very nefarious indeed. My true enemy is housed within the bright blue building, bidding me to war. The enemy? Area Rugs.

It started out as an innocent conversation between Becky and I, musing one day on how we could cover these bare floors in our home, making it feel warm and inviting. Little did I know that this would result in multiple trips to IKEA, hunting and exploring with skills akin to Dr. Livingston (I presume) to find the perfect rug.

This was surely my first realization that nothing comes easy, with marriage it requires a constant state of diplomacy, love and compromise. My armament of diplomacy was extremely low during these first few month of matrimonial bliss, and the love covered up my shortcomings. Through pain, tears, and temper-tantrums (all on my part), we have found the area rugs to adorn our living room, bedroom and kitchen. There is still one more that remains. One rug to rule my life. But this battle will not bow to an area rug as the victor. I will become master of all rugs, and never let them rule again...

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The Delicate Balance

I (AJ) can be very stubborn. Take a moment to recover from the shock of that statement. Ok, moving on. I can be very stubborn, and I have always thought that I was the captain of my worldview in all respects. Nature vs. Nurture. I always sided with the fact I could choose my nature. And all that changed when Becky and I were wed.

Marriage has a peculiar way of reminding you just how little you know. Very quickly every hole in my armor was quickly exposed, and I realized that I am more of a product of my upbringing and environment than I ever felt comfortable to admit.

When two people begin communicating on the level of marriage, it is surprising how you can both say the same word, or phrase, or sentence, word-for-word, and be two worlds apart. So the delicate balance began, almost like a dance, of learning our marriage language.

It's funny, because we have learned to have inside jokes and phrases that leave eyebrows raised in question, and we can communicate without saying a word at times. Still, we find each other locked in bewildered gaze trying to decode what was just uttered. Some days we succeed. Some days we need Enigma to sort out what was said.

In the end, it's the best place to be.

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