Author: Moby

The Martyr Returns

I rarely talk about work other than in vague references. I’m breaking w/that out of frustration. Beyond my ongoing EMT training, I’m a 911 dispatcher. I’m also a union officer for our local chapter. And for a change, my anger is directed at my fellow dispatchers rather than management.

Here I am literally leaving my friend, who is very ill, in the emergency room, to go speak at the rally and only two of my coworkers show up to lend a hand. Granted it was raining but two out of 110? That was like a kick in the teeth. I was initially very angry with my coworkers for such a poor turnout. Many of which bitch and whine daily about our problems. (I’m also of the mind don’t bitch unless you are part of the process.) I was so upset, in fact, I almost resigned my post. Why am I spending all this valuable time on people who obviously don’t give a damn. I’m not even gonna be in the same job a year from now.

After cooling off (and getting food in me), I began to see the bigger picture. Lately, I’ve been very frustrated w/the lack of leadership from our chapter president. She means well, but is very unorganized and doesn’t really fill the role effectively. This lack of direction is undermining our efforts. As clearly demonstrated by the poor turnout, our membership isn’t listening to us. That’s just wrong. And it’s not for lack of effort. All of the officers give of themselves to better our center. However, working hard and working smart are two different things. I’m a big believer in working smart first and hard second. And that’s not happening. Normally, I’d step up to the plate and offer to take over. However, with my focus on training to be a medic, I simply don’t have the free time the position requires.

Never being one to give up easily, I’ve called an informal meeting of the officers tomorrow. I’m hoping to express myself w/o pointing blame. Maybe my tizzy will spur the prez into action. If not, I’ll stick it out till the end of the year and after that, I’m done.

Come on, One More…

Ok, now that I have some food it in me for the first time today, I’m in a better frame of mind. I really am a hateful bastard when I get hungry. I forgot to mention earlier it is cold and rainy here today. Oh yeah! The rain is back. For a city that never gets rain, we’ve had enough to last us all fraking year.

Trying to get my mind off more depressing thoughts, I thought I’d share something completely narcissistic. I’ve had several requests for info on my workout routines. And since, I haven’t finished my “Body by Moby” updates yet, I thought I’d interject one here.

I have the hardest time getting my chest muscles to grow. I’ve realized in part because I’m not burning the muscle out before reaching an overall state of exhaustion. In an effort to remedy that I decided to merge two routines into one. I’m pushing heavy weight w/lower reps primarily. The twist, I’ve added one or two more sets on each bench but dropping the weights to really finish off the muscle. And while my routine isn’t really for beginners, it can be adapted as such. I work chest and triceps together as they are complimenting muscles. Meaning you can’t do chest presses w/o calling your triceps into play. Spot training is so 80’s and has been shown to be less effective than training muscle groups. I’m strong for my size so the numbers, while sounding impressive, aren’t really that exciting for me. Oh and proper form is essential. It doesn’t matter how much weight you’re pushing, if you aren’t using good form, you are wasting your time. The ‘burn’ comes from pushing the muscle to exhaustion. Part of that is keeping the focus ON the muscle.

Bench 1
Incline Chest Press – 5 sets of 8 reps each – 225lbs
(2 – 45’s each side, plus 45lb bar)
I get 3 full sets of 8 reps each w/3-4 minute break between each. The last two sets, I drop the weight to 200lbs and then 175lbs. On the last two sets I only take enough of a break to drop the weights and then I hit it.
Continue reading Come on, One More…

15 Minutes…

Today has been a most unpleasant day.

I woke to find another close friend has gotten so sick he can barely get out of bed. Some people are just so damn hard-headed at times. Of course, he didn’t need to get this bad. Much of his discomfort could have been avoided had he expressed himself a bit more. Being a private person is a royal pain in the ass. Ok, I’m a tad angry as he was in pretty bad shape when I got there. My anger is not directed at him. He is a wonderfully kind friend and it hurt me to see him sink so low w/o reaching out to me. Or maybe he just needed to be a bit more direct. He did come to me a couple weeks ago w/a complaint of general malaise but this was far beyond that. Far beyond.

I had to swallow my pain and don my clinical hat which is hard to do when you care for someone. Even at the level of EMT, I could tell something was horribly wrong. I have my suspicions but no sense putting his biz out for the world to see. Of course, not having any insurance while going to school makes the situation all the worse. He had to go to the state hospital, being the only choice in said predicament, off we went. The stars must be aligned in his favor because he only waited about an hour to see a nurse who recognized the seriousness of his condition. She was kind and thoughtful.

When I left he was being wheeled in for tests. Another friend arrived in town and is w/him still. I’m hoping for the best.

As if that was not enough, I was scheduled to speak in front of the Board of Supervisors today regarding our upcoming labor contract for work. Being the only union officer that lived in the city, it was me or no one. I made it on time, even if I was a bit out of sorts. I gave a short killer speech as to the deplorable condition our center is in and left. I got my 15 minutes of fame today. In reality it was only 2 minutes and only aired on public access. Ok my 15 minutes of not so fame today.

I’m tired, hungry, and bitchy so I’m off to devoure half a carcass of something roasted and tasty.

Worry Wart

I got some distressing news about someone and I’m worried. He is in stable but serious condition. Of course, I’m far enough away all I can do is worry. Even more frustrating is the sense of helplessness.

And when you think about it, what a useless emotion worry is. I can’t think of a single good thing that comes from worrying. It’s bad on your heart, nerves, blah blah blah. It’s basically an emotional response to fear, be it rational or irrational. Even knowing where the feeling comes from doesn’t help.

Do I sound like a bonehead right now? Well, you can thank the half bottle of zinfandel I polished off. If you haven’t noticed, I’m a light weight when it comes to drinking. Half a bottle and my IQ has dropped below freezing. Whatever. . .

Messy Missy

I’ve realized now why I let the apartment get messy at times. When it’s clean, it becomes painfully obvious how little I actually own. At least when it’s messy, the place looks lived in.

Ok, it was a good try . . .the reality is I’m just lazy. I’m not uber messy or neat really. The pad often goes from clean to a varied state of disarray and back again. It is a never ending struggle. blech!

Why can’t I be rich and have a hot butler?

Yes Sir, May I Have Another…

After my last post, I got a slew of emails asking about my S&M habits. I’m flattered but it was a joke. My S&M scenes border on slim to none. I like role play as good as the next guy but I’ve never been into the whole mental dom/sub routine. Besides, I’m aggressive in any position so I don’t think I’d go over very well w/that particular cult. That’s not to say I have a problem with it. If that floats your boat more power to ya. It just doesn’t do it for me. No, I like to consider myself “intense vanilla”. I used to think I was a bit piggish in certain areas. However, living in SF has taught me I don’t even come close to meeting said definition.

Sadly, I must add an admonishment here. I haven’t censured anyone here in quite some time. “Sir Anon” left me a comment that was absolutely vile. So much so, I refuse to even post it. His purpose, I’m sure, was to intimidate as a form of arousal. I detest such insidious behavior and find it at the very least offensive. Said thugs get their kicks by preying on troubled or weak minded guys. I know your type and fella you are barking up the wrong tree. Don’t do that again. If you do, you’ll find yourself on the wrong side of my job. And since I have an IP tracker installed on my server, you are not as “anon” as you think fucker!

Blogger Blogger

I forgot to mention, I got to meet another blogger this week. Kel from Who Threw That Ham. Kel is from Texas and recenlty moved to SF. We had dinner at Blue in the ‘stro and chatted about home, etc. He misses Whataburger too! hehehe

My mirror shot didn’t turn out so good so we asked the waiter to snap off a shot of us together. It turned out pretty good.

So far, Kel is liking the big city. I am a little disappointed. His blogging has lessened since his arrival. Hop over and tell’em to keep it up.

*

Well, it finally stopped raining. Yesterday, was the first day in weeks it didn’t rain once. Today is supposed to be clear as well. Tomorrow it’s supposed to rain again before finally clearing up. I’m hoping it bounces around us. Maybe I’ll get a chance to take the bike for a nice long ride next week. *cross your fingers*

My schedule for work is changing a bit this weekend. Instead of Mon/Tue/Weds off, I’ll have Sun/Mon/Tue and I’m liking that. One, it means I’m only working three days instead of four this week and two, I get a weekend day off! Can you say “beer bust” at the Eagle? (I don’t drink beer but it’s a fun chance to hang out and socialize in daylight hours!) I’m also getting ready for homer and brettcajun‘s visit. They are both crashing w/moi while in town. (Oh lord, what have I got myself into?) This just means, I have to clean up a bit. Take down the sling, put away the whips, clean up the lube stains, etc. (j/k) But I do need to clean up a bit. I don’t have much but at least it will be clean when they get here. Mi casa es su casa!

Back Again

The last post knocked the wind out of my sails. That night, I went to bed and bawled like a baby until I fell asleep. Don’t be sad though, it was a good cry. A cry that released a lot of pent up shame. These last two days I’ve had such a feeling of relief. The post was a long time coming and truly an eye opener for me. Would I say I’m completely healed? Of course not, but I do think I’m one step closer to being the person I want to become. The odd part is I really didn’t know what I was going to say until I started typing. Once I started, it just flew out of me like some sort of demon. (I’ve always said I’ve got demons all in me, now you know.) Am I perfect? Eee-gads no! Im still a fucked up confliction of traits all jumbling for dominance. I’m still the same flawed fag I was before just with some new insight. And I don’t think I’d have it any other way. (It’s like being crazy, when you are crazy no one gives a shit about a fucking thing you do! 1000 points if anyone knows where that line comes from.)

What have I learned from my little brain fart? Well, for one, I am too hard on myself. I hold myself to a different standard than I hold for others. And while that probably won’t change, at least I recognize and understand it now. I’ve never been a introverted type of person. Self-examination is definitely not my strong suit. But having taken the time to look at myself has really been invigorating. It has given me a new stillness in my center. A stillness I never had before. I guess in a way I reopened some old wounds but I think they will heal up nicely this time instead of festering. I hope I’m making sense here. I never imagined I would discover so much about myself this year. I wanted to make some changes, yeah. But I feel like I’m really breaking new ground. I’m very happy about that.
Continue reading Back Again

“Ding!” – Epiphany

This is probably the most significant post I’ll every write here. If you’ve ever wanted a first-hand view of my self-image, now’s your chance. Instead of making this a private post, I’ve decided to share it in an attempt to demonstrate what it is I struggle with. *I warn you, this is going to be a bit long winded so you might wanna grab some coffee.*

Before I start, let me just say thank you to my few faithful readers. Many of you go out of your way on a regular basis to boost my ego. For that, I am eternally grateful. I get many comments, often in private, asking why I am so hard or down on myself all the time. I’ve never really given it much thought until recently. With my growing feelings for someone, I find myself taking a much harder look at myself. Said person inspires me in ways I’ve never felt before. While he may not have my heart yet, he definitely has my admiration, respect, and attention. (And lets face it, keeping my attention is the hard part)

Ok, ok, I’m stalling. Cut me some slack here, I’m nervous. This is not the easiest post to write. The truth is, I’m hard on myself because I feel I have to be. I often see a clear confliction in how I value other’s kindness toward me and mine towards them. I think I understand why now. You see, being the person I am is still a choice for me. I didn’t grew up w/any sort of moral guidance. Kids are supposed to be given some sort of behavioral guideline to follow throughout life. It becomes ingrained as you grow older and eventually becomes the backbone of your convictions. Whether it be based on religious beliefs or accepted societal norms doesn’t matter. In my case, I just don’t feel that happened. I’ve always felt like an empty slate. I learned my perception of right and wrong from distant family, teachers, coaches, etc. Oddly enough, I got a huge chunk of my ideals from TV. I know what a shocker huh?! But, it’s true. I would often find myself emulating good TV stars. Never the bad ones, always the good ones. And I don’t mind telling you trying to ingrain these traits into my id as an adult has not been an easy task.

Among other things, my parents were selfish, petty, shallow, and even dishonest when it suited them. I was often told to do one thing while they did just the opposite. If you’ve been reading me for any length of time, you know I was NOT fond of my stepmother. In fact, she is the only person I’ve every truly hated. I blame her for a lot of my woes. And it’s not the physical abuse I remember. (Ok, that’s not exactly true. I remember the broken nose, the fists to the head, and the incident causing my deviated septum but the monotony of the daily beatings has faded away.) What I do remember most is living in a state of constant fear. Fear of never knowing what to do right. At best, my days were a confliction of events that left me paralyzed to rationalize my actions. Until finally one day the fear went away. In it’s place was left a cold dark emptiness. A place cold enough to allow me to almost kill my stepmother when I was only 12 years old. (She was a pill addict and I had a brilliant plan to dissolve a whole bottle of vicodin in one of her pepsi bottles. She was also addicted to soda.) I would have gotten away with it too. My father, siblings, relatives, all knew she was an addict. No one would have ever suspected me. I am deeply ashamed of that. I am grateful I never went thru with it. Instead, I continued on in misery.

Even though I couldn’t go through with it, the cold stayed w/me. I was a different person after that. And it scares me to this day. It gave me no qualms over lying, stealing, cheating, or anything else it took to survive. And yes, I have done things I am ashamed of. I can say I’ve never done anything I consider evil. I’m not vindictive. And I’ve never done things to hurt intentionally or out of some twisted sense of fun. But my life isn’t just about survival anymore. Yes, I choose not to be that person. Yet, I find myself plagued w/doubts over my progress. I know that cruel cold person is still inside me. I don’t dwell in it but it’s still there. I still have to choose to be a good person. It is not ingrained yet. And therein lies all my doubts. You are now privy to one of my deepest insecurities. I am in tears as I write this and I offer to you that I am ashamed.

*I had to take a break here. I’m back again…*

With all of that in mind, I still feel like my life has been blessed. As a child, I had a roof over my head, food in my belly, and shoes on my feet. There are those even in this country who can’t claim the same. Beyond that, there have been several sentinel moments where I felt things could have gone horribly unrepairably wrong. A good example would be my brush with god. (You should read it if you haven’t otherewise, you’ll miss perspective here.) It was a defining moment. That spark has stayed w/me ever since. It’s always there to give me that extra humph to better myself.

I know I’m taking a chance posting this but I don’t care. You wanted to know my perspective on things, well now you do. Comment if you like but it’s not required. It’s taken me over two hours to write this and I’m completely exhausted. I’m going to bed now.