My body is feeling it. I've started working out again, both in P.E. and after school. It's been a while. After my vertical jump stuff earlier yesterday I felt great, took a run in fact, it was good. But this morning when I woke up... I felt as if someone had beaten the backs of my calves with baseball bats. I can barely walk at the moment, which means tomorrow I do squats and presses, as well as some bench. The nice thing about working out though... I actually feel the need for a ot of food now, instead of just eating it because I know it's necessary.
My goal is to be between 155-170lbs by the end of the school year. Putting off the heavy vegitarianism for a bit until I bulk up. I want to serve 120. I want to run a 5:00. I want my palm on the rim. I want my palm on the ceiling outside the band hall. Nick and I are debating buying some boxing gloves and helmets, we match perfectly arm length and height, it would be fun to get some good sparring in as well as some reflex stuff beside ping pong.
My other class at the highschool is CW, which is pretty easy so far. Three days in and all my Public Meetings are completed. Benner seems to like me, he told me he was impressed.
Food calls...
Night
-Jon
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Did I just say that...?
This post will be dedicated to my lack of the ability to arrange words properly in a sentence, or to arrange letters within a word, while speaking at a high spate of read.
Though there were countless ones before this...
Evan Winter:
Jan-26-2009
"Call of forty do"
Jonathan:
Jan-22-2009
"I can move it from here while it's reading!"
Jonathan:
July-27-2009
"What do you think I am, some sort of rind meader?
Though there were countless ones before this...
Evan Winter:
Jan-26-2009
"Call of forty do"
Jonathan:
Jan-22-2009
"I can move it from here while it's reading!"
Jonathan:
July-27-2009
"What do you think I am, some sort of rind meader?
Monday, January 19, 2009
My Button
Tonight I relived my wildest and most painful fear. My mind torn between reality, the here and now, and my past; a drenched bed, silky white and red splotched sheets, a faded gray wire with one single blue button on the end of it hanging from a pump attached to a small metal pole, this machine limits my ability to press the button, once per eight minutes, with a quiet beep to let me know when it's ready. A clear plastic tube emerges from the bottom of the machine, running the length of the pole and onto the bed, from the tube to the needle, from the needle through a vein in my wrist, and in this vein is my blood. This pole supports my IV, mounted on four wheels. The wheels imply mobility, but I have none.
I lie silently on my back, watching the clock turn past 2 am. There is no sleep for me. To pass the time I have a cup of prune juice: the only alternative is an enema, I am not partial to either choice.
I have another tube, it runs to a machine as well. I cannot roll to my right or left because of it. This one has no needle, but still enters my body. Between my ribs, directly below my left arm, a half inch tube enters my chest. It runs in a few inches and then up, all the way to the top of my lung. Or at least where my lung should be. The collapsed lung leaves all my organs exposed to my chest wall, each openly available to be touched by the tube. The pain is excruciating, but after the first five days with this gardenhose attached to a vacuum I have adapted. Certain positions are more comfortable than others, and once I find a good one... I stay there.
The tube enters through an inch long slit in my skin that had very little bandaging on it, and the tube can move. Not much though, but it moves nonetheless, and this movement is where the problems begin. This movement is the soul purpose of the button which I all to often let leave my hand.
It starts with a cough, a laugh, anything where my breathing is short or sporadic. Worst of all is hiccups, they do no cease after one or two, I cannot stifle them like laughter. I drink from my plastic cup, prune juice is nasty, and I swallow air. I recline into the bed and am hit by the sudden realization of what I've just done. I reach for my button, hanging at my side, but I am too late. In the next quarter of a second the first hiccup reaches my mouth and I gasp for air, my lungs fill, the tube shifts, poking at my vital organs. My body rejects the tube and fights to purge me of its presence. Every muscle in my body tightens and releases at a pace beyond my comprehension and my entire body trembles. I lose control. My body surrenders to it's own primal fear, and it's primary means of ending the torture only fuels the pain, and the problem. Every movement is just another reason for me to convulse. It goes on indefinetly, there is no escape but through my button, and reaching it is beyond any strength and focus my mind could gather.
In the bed beside me lies my one hope. Hands that don't belong to my body, that vigorously writhes on the bed. One quietly reaches up grabs the end of the wire, pressing the button, releasing me. The pain slowly subsides, and my body calms. I collapse into my pillow; my mind is fogged, through the fog I don't feel the pain anymore. I struggle for conciousness, but it slips from my grasp. Then at last, sleep.
“In its early stages, insomnia is almost an oasis in which those who have to think or suffer darkly take refuge”
-Jon
I lie silently on my back, watching the clock turn past 2 am. There is no sleep for me. To pass the time I have a cup of prune juice: the only alternative is an enema, I am not partial to either choice.
I have another tube, it runs to a machine as well. I cannot roll to my right or left because of it. This one has no needle, but still enters my body. Between my ribs, directly below my left arm, a half inch tube enters my chest. It runs in a few inches and then up, all the way to the top of my lung. Or at least where my lung should be. The collapsed lung leaves all my organs exposed to my chest wall, each openly available to be touched by the tube. The pain is excruciating, but after the first five days with this gardenhose attached to a vacuum I have adapted. Certain positions are more comfortable than others, and once I find a good one... I stay there.
The tube enters through an inch long slit in my skin that had very little bandaging on it, and the tube can move. Not much though, but it moves nonetheless, and this movement is where the problems begin. This movement is the soul purpose of the button which I all to often let leave my hand.
It starts with a cough, a laugh, anything where my breathing is short or sporadic. Worst of all is hiccups, they do no cease after one or two, I cannot stifle them like laughter. I drink from my plastic cup, prune juice is nasty, and I swallow air. I recline into the bed and am hit by the sudden realization of what I've just done. I reach for my button, hanging at my side, but I am too late. In the next quarter of a second the first hiccup reaches my mouth and I gasp for air, my lungs fill, the tube shifts, poking at my vital organs. My body rejects the tube and fights to purge me of its presence. Every muscle in my body tightens and releases at a pace beyond my comprehension and my entire body trembles. I lose control. My body surrenders to it's own primal fear, and it's primary means of ending the torture only fuels the pain, and the problem. Every movement is just another reason for me to convulse. It goes on indefinetly, there is no escape but through my button, and reaching it is beyond any strength and focus my mind could gather.
In the bed beside me lies my one hope. Hands that don't belong to my body, that vigorously writhes on the bed. One quietly reaches up grabs the end of the wire, pressing the button, releasing me. The pain slowly subsides, and my body calms. I collapse into my pillow; my mind is fogged, through the fog I don't feel the pain anymore. I struggle for conciousness, but it slips from my grasp. Then at last, sleep.
“In its early stages, insomnia is almost an oasis in which those who have to think or suffer darkly take refuge”
-Jon
Friday, January 2, 2009
One Nights Adventures
I sat sipping my tea. Earl Gray. My parents were having a few people over in a few hours, and as much as I love my parents, their friends I cannot tolerate. My original plan, to go to bed at ten, seemed too monotonous for a night such as this one. Tonight I needed something different, something new, an adventure... like Jurrasic Park! Which I have never seen.
And what better place to find an adventure than with Sean and Jon. A few text messages to both of them and they were outside my house, waiting for me. The fools came inside and tried to convince me that I would need more clothing than I had originally anticipated. Sledding is tonight's theme, they said. Silly fools, I will not bend to their will, I will not sled tonight.
We rode on for what seemed like a short version of eternity towards a destination unknown to me. The dank smell of rotting Tacobell hovered in the hot air of the vehicle, the best purple Jeep known to humanity, since the dawn of time. The travel up the treacherous roads of the mountain was an easy task for the Jeep and its expert driver. At last... our destination...
A wave of uneasiness swept over me as I was led towards the door. I had been briefed on what I could and could not say, as well as how to behave. I walked inside. Strangers surround me in an overwhelming quantity. Introductions are given and the fun begins. Wait... Christians...? fun? UNPOSSIBLE! Oh, by the way, I haven't seen Jurassic Park.
I spend the first half hour of our arrival watching my two slow-to-learn-and-play-card-games friends get beat at "Nerds" which I fail to pronounce endlessly. I "encourage" them with some "kind" words. At last the Secede from play and in order to spite me and my "encouragement" they decide to go sledding. I am left with a choice. Stay inside with the kids and play boring games... or go outside and freeze while watching them sled. I chose the latter. Did I tell you I haven't seen Jurassic Park?
We went outside, up to the hill, lit by tiki torches. The fools were already sledding when I arrived. My two fools though, stayed with me briefly before going off on a suicidal fight against gravity which would end in them being covered with snow. The fire at the bottom was cozy and warm so I hung out there for a while. Screams of pain and fear tore through the night as the riders plummeted down the icy slopes. After an immeasurable about of time we went back inside.
I challenged Jon to a game of Battleships.
I suck at Battleships.
I haven't ever seen Jurassic Park.
Jon is King of Battleships.
After battleships I flipped through a Book of Ripley's Believe It or Not, I want thirty minutes of my life back. Then it was back outside to the sled hill for more recklessness on every ones part, but mine. But they weren't near as reckless as when the boy tried to climb the electric fence in Jurassic Park, which I have never seen. The boys decided to sled down the road and I volunteered to pick them up at the bottom in the Jeep. Shortly after they left I decided to drive down and I realized the keys were nowhere to be found! Apparently Jon had them still, at the bottom of the hill.
Back inside for pictionary!
Then worship, which blew right through new years, thankfully we escaped in the middle. I spent my new years in a kitchen, in a house I had never been in before, with worship songs in the background, tightly hugging my two companions. And through all the noise, and all the distractions... to us... we were the only three that existed at that moment in time, we were alone, together.
After the songs ended we headed outside and started lighting fireworks. Sean burnt and imaginary hole in his jacket. He is the only one who can see it, kind of like how I am the only person to have not seen Jurassic Park. The fireworks ended and we gathered back into Jon's car for the ride home.
The car still smelled like Tacobell... and fireworks.
And what better place to find an adventure than with Sean and Jon. A few text messages to both of them and they were outside my house, waiting for me. The fools came inside and tried to convince me that I would need more clothing than I had originally anticipated. Sledding is tonight's theme, they said. Silly fools, I will not bend to their will, I will not sled tonight.
We rode on for what seemed like a short version of eternity towards a destination unknown to me. The dank smell of rotting Tacobell hovered in the hot air of the vehicle, the best purple Jeep known to humanity, since the dawn of time. The travel up the treacherous roads of the mountain was an easy task for the Jeep and its expert driver. At last... our destination...
A wave of uneasiness swept over me as I was led towards the door. I had been briefed on what I could and could not say, as well as how to behave. I walked inside. Strangers surround me in an overwhelming quantity. Introductions are given and the fun begins. Wait... Christians...? fun? UNPOSSIBLE! Oh, by the way, I haven't seen Jurassic Park.
I spend the first half hour of our arrival watching my two slow-to-learn-and-play-card-games friends get beat at "Nerds" which I fail to pronounce endlessly. I "encourage" them with some "kind" words. At last the Secede from play and in order to spite me and my "encouragement" they decide to go sledding. I am left with a choice. Stay inside with the kids and play boring games... or go outside and freeze while watching them sled. I chose the latter. Did I tell you I haven't seen Jurassic Park?
We went outside, up to the hill, lit by tiki torches. The fools were already sledding when I arrived. My two fools though, stayed with me briefly before going off on a suicidal fight against gravity which would end in them being covered with snow. The fire at the bottom was cozy and warm so I hung out there for a while. Screams of pain and fear tore through the night as the riders plummeted down the icy slopes. After an immeasurable about of time we went back inside.
I challenged Jon to a game of Battleships.
I suck at Battleships.
I haven't ever seen Jurassic Park.
Jon is King of Battleships.
After battleships I flipped through a Book of Ripley's Believe It or Not, I want thirty minutes of my life back. Then it was back outside to the sled hill for more recklessness on every ones part, but mine. But they weren't near as reckless as when the boy tried to climb the electric fence in Jurassic Park, which I have never seen. The boys decided to sled down the road and I volunteered to pick them up at the bottom in the Jeep. Shortly after they left I decided to drive down and I realized the keys were nowhere to be found! Apparently Jon had them still, at the bottom of the hill.
Back inside for pictionary!
Then worship, which blew right through new years, thankfully we escaped in the middle. I spent my new years in a kitchen, in a house I had never been in before, with worship songs in the background, tightly hugging my two companions. And through all the noise, and all the distractions... to us... we were the only three that existed at that moment in time, we were alone, together.
After the songs ended we headed outside and started lighting fireworks. Sean burnt and imaginary hole in his jacket. He is the only one who can see it, kind of like how I am the only person to have not seen Jurassic Park. The fireworks ended and we gathered back into Jon's car for the ride home.
The car still smelled like Tacobell... and fireworks.
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