Boy, do I have some Tales to Tell...
Friday, August 27, 2004
Complacency seems to be my favorite word lately. One of the definitions I found is: a feeling of contentment or self-satisfaction, especially when coupled with an unawareness of danger, trouble, or controversy. It's something I see a lot in body conditioning class lately. It's something I see a lot at the gym lately. And, like other microcosms, the gym is representative of the world outside of it.

Tinman at had a great blog about his feelings about the upcoming election. I think my biggest fear about the current leader is NOT that he won't stop terrorist attacks. I fear that he will continue to fight the war on terror without looking back to see that his country is falling apart at the seams. And worst of all, he really does not seem like he cares that it is falling apart at the seams. He likes to hide behind his religious and social beliefs forgetting that the rest of his country does not necessarily have the same religious and social beliefs as he does. How can one be so blind? And in this day and age?

I am concerned that the complacency of our population will not change the current leadership. It shows in how people take care of themselves. It shows in how people don't take initiative to change. It shows in their lack of motiviation to lift a finger. It shows in ways people convince themselves that they are fine no matter how uncomfortable they are. AND, it shows in how people are not willing to strive hard to improve their lives.

I don't know if life will be better under a new leadership. I don't know if a new leader can even undo the damage the current one has done. But, in my on small way, I think I can make a change. I can show that apathetic student that, with a little help, they can take control and make changes. With a little help, they too can believe that they are capable of being better. With a little help, they can improve their lives. It just takes one person to believe you can. Just one person with a different outlook. Later.
Tuesday, August 24, 2004
Okay, first, while shopping at the Wine Store in Whole Foods, I noticed they were selling wine in a box from Australia. Specifically, the wine was in a 3-L box, it cost $18.99, was from Banrock Station, and I had to have it. For those of you who don't know, the boxed wine phenomena is about to hit the mid-to-high-priced wine market. Well, the verdict is that the wine is drinkable, albeit a bit one-sided. I would highly recommend it at your next party. If you are a bit skittish about it, go to your local Fishs Eddy (or any comparable discount glassware store), buy some cheap caraffes, and pour it in. Think about it, the box holds the equivalent of four bottles, making it $4.75 per bottle. Not bad.

Next, this evening while getting dressed after my shower at the gym, I noticed two different people take off their sneakers before getting onto the scale to weigh themselves. This is not the first time I have seen this. My partner even takes off his flip-flops before he gets on our scale to weigh himself. Why would anyone think that their sneakers would contribute any amount of weight while weighing themselves? And if they do, the average person tends to weight somewhere between 120 and 140 lbs., are the sneakers really contributing any amount that may cause alarm?

Since I am who I am, I decided to weigh what I consider my heaviest sneakers. My digital bathroom scale could not even detect any amount of weight. So, I went to my kitchen to weigh them on my kitchen scale. Result: 1.75lbs. Is that amount of weight really significant? I can eat a burger that big in a sitting, plus the fries, and a milkshake.

If anyone out there can explain to me what the specific reason is for taking off your sneakers when you weigh yourself at the gym, or anywhere besides a physician's office, please tell me. Oh, and I can also follow up the milkshake with a couple of glasses of wine. Later.
Sunday, August 22, 2004
It's been a weird past three weeks. Twenty days ago, I interviewed for a job. I hate to call it just a job because... well, think about your most ideal, legitimate job. Now think about what would make it even better than that. This job comes close to that. It's been a weird 20 days because I was contacted by them and told that they have not made a decision yet but soon will. Through some sources, I have found out that the reconstruction at their location has hit some snags and may force a delay in opening hence sending their focus into other things besides new hires. Needless to say, this has left me in some sort of limbo.

Part of me wants to scream out loud because that is what I feel inside. I hate the wait. I hate not having any control over the situation. To be honest, I just want to know what their decision is. Even if I don't get the job, at least I will know to plan my next move. And to be perfectly honest, that is what is making me anxious.

I've always been able to rebound easily from anything. When I do get something that I did not plan on getting, I have always found ways of explaining why I am not accepting the position. When I get rejected from something, I have also been able to move on. Actually, being in a losing situation has always fired up my determination. Getting the short end of the stick tends to force me to focus more on all the other things I have - I become more creative, I become more determined, and, best of all, I become more intense at the gym. Rejection has always made my body stronger, fitter, and leaner.

So, the days keep on going by and still no word from the company. I would love to have this job. I haven't wanted something this bad in a long time. I will be disappointed if I don't get it. On the other hand, if I don't get it, I may be in the best shape ever in my life. I hate that I have a positive spin on both ends. I just want to scream. Later.
Wednesday, August 18, 2004
Just wanted to welcome Cole back to blogworld. Check out his blog at Tell him Tim sent you.

Have I told any of you how cute some of the men are that take my step class? To say that they are a distraction does not even describe how attractive a lot of them are. And to top it all off, they can step like nobody's business. Cute, hot, and athletically-inclined. Even when I am at my worst, just the sight of "my boys" jumping and pumping wakes me up. It certainly keeps me on my toes. Now if I could only stop the lazy sour-pusses from showing up, all would be fine. Later.
Tuesday, August 17, 2004
I'm not sure what is going on inside my head. I don't think I am burnt out from teaching group exercise. I think I still teach a pretty decent class BUT I am about three steps away from bitch-slapping anyone who comes to class and puts no effort into it. I am not talking about people who are quiet and methodical. I am talking about people who show up with a sour-puss face, basically mark the class (for non-dancers, that means go through the motions), and put no effort into "marking the class". What the fuck is that about?

I always wonder why people even show up for class sometimes. I can understand showing up, finding out that it is not what you expected, and leaving with 15 minutes. I don't understand staying the entire class when you obviously don't want to be there. This evening, during class, I turned around, faced them, and said, "Are you guys asleep or are you really that bored?" Let's just say that I did not wait for an answer. One of my groupies (yes, I do have some) showed up. She turned around and said, "Come on, ladies. Work it. Or he will go home." God love her. After class, she told me that she would not see me tomorrow because she was going to church to pray for the both of us.

I think I want to be a Romanian "little girl" gymast. I think I am in love with that entire team. Actually, I just want to be Svetlana Khorkina from the Russian team. She's tall for a gymnast, she's a bitchy diva, she's skinny as a rail, she's as intense as brain surgery, and her name is pronounced "whore-kina". What else could one want? Later.
As much as I don't want to be, I have been sucked into the abyss known as the Summer Olympics. I missed the Opening Ceremonies on purpose. I am relishing in the fact that Michael Phelps is not winning gold. I am hoping the "Little Girls" USA gymnastics team falls on their butts. In short, I hope all the overly hyped people don't live up to their hype.

I did watch the Greek divers win the 3-meter synchronized diving event. Can I just say that I am hitting the gym a lot more in the next few weeks. One of the divers from Great Britain has inspired me to... uh... workout more... yeah, that's it... workout more. Plus no more chocolate bread pudding with raspberry sauce for me. Or chocolate chip blondies. Or sourdough bread.

Anyway... August is one of my favorite months in the gym. About 50% of the population doesn't show up. They gym is nice and empty. You don't have to haggle for equipment. I don't have to teach to excessively packed classes. Only the die-hards come, which makes it great because I don't have to teach too hard since they will get the routine easily. It's times like this that remind me why I enjoy exercising. I know that a lot of people are probably cringing at that fact but I do enjoy exercise. I enjoy the endorphin-rush that happens during cardio. I enjoy the feeling of accomplishment after a good lifting day. I like the physical and psychological results. I like that I can push my body to certain physical limits that were once consider impossible when I was 220-pounds of fat.

Of course, August is followed by September which is the month everyone decides to come back to the gym. Besides January, September is the most dreaded by gym staff. It's a time when people come back in droves trying to make up for the times they missed during the summer. Not that these people did not stay in shape, but because the weather is nice, they go out for a jog or some other sport. So, they feel they need to hang out at the gym to make their membership worthwhile. It's a challenge trying to get a locker in the lockerroom. Ugh.

I think I will just sit back and enjoy the calm before the storm. Ahhhhhh.... Later.
Thursday, August 12, 2004
I'm tired again. This time, I am tired of the United States of America claiming itself as the greatest country in the world. How can we claim to be the greatest country when, every day, this country's leaders deny rights to a part of the population that are taken for granted by another? When homosexual people are not allowed to get married? When women are still criticized & questioned for having control over their bodies? When hard-working, law-abiding citizens do not have any type of basic health care for their family or themselves? When taxes are used to build sports complexes rather than fund police & fire departments?

Greatest country, my ass! If we are that great, why does our leader not understand that some of his blanket statements about marriage sanctity, medical research, and religious beliefs do nothing but isolate, belittle, and segregate his country, that some of his words dehumanize others, that some of his actions speak louder than words. It's bad enough that women, gays, blacks, and asians have to constantly fight to be better than the average, heterosexual, religious, white man. BUT when your average heterosexual, religious, white male leader gives his average heterosexual, religious, white male followers fodder to fuel their ignorance, IT MAKES IT WORSE. And it does not make this country "great".

Before anyone takes offense to my words, let me remind you that I still love this country. It has given me a lot. I have given it a lot. I will continue to give it more. I just find it hypocritical when we call ourselves the greatest country in the world, when we claim that we embrace all types, when we tell all others to send us their "huddled masses yearning to breathe free". Because the truth is, as a homosexual, I don't feel embraced, I don't feel like I have a choice, I don't feel like I have the same rights as my fellow citizens, I can't breathe free. AND I am tired of being told that I don't deserve that all. Later.
Wednesday, August 11, 2004
Sometimes I feel like I never belong. Most of the time, I am very proud to be different. I like the fact that I don't fit into any type of societal mold. At the gym, I am not like other group exercise instructors. Very few of them will leave the front of the room while teaching a class to jump onto the box of weights in the back, teach while perched up on said box, while gyrating like a go-go boy on crack. It's not often one sees such behavior by a 5' 6", 178 lb., hairy-chested & -legged, shaved head Filipino man who happens to be wearing fire engine red supplex shorts.

While working out, I tend to wear the same short shorts. I also tend to not do the same exercises that most of the other gentlemen are doing. I lean more toward the functional exercises worrying more about my form than the amount of weight I lift. It has gotten me some very lean muscle mass which I am sure baffles some of my fellow weight trainers. I tend to get looks of shock and sneer. Not that I care but after a while, it just gets old. Ya seen it before, get over it.

My non-gym life has made me feel very different lately. I have been in the same loving relationship for almost seven years. It seems like more and more, I am surrounded by people who are single. When we do meet couples, they have this "when are you going to have a child" feel to them. I hate that homosexuals couples are getting that "way" with their bretheren. If not the "child" thing, then the "am sure you have an open relationship because we do and it's the only way we stay together" feel. Well, we are monogamous. We believe in monogamy. We agreed that if we have to stray from each other, then we should just be friends and not partners. We feel very strongly about it. Our love is for each other - spiritually, emotionally, and physically.

At a time when all I want to do is enjoy my life and not over-analyze it, I seem run into people who do. Whether they are old or new friends. Can't a girl just have some fun? Can't we just gossip about that boy we used to know and not worry that our bitchyness is a factor of our self-hatred? What happened to good ole fashioned cattiness? I'm I the only person not working on some sort of self-enlightenment as I get older? Speaking of cats, even my cat is getting very touchy feely with me. As I type, her head is resting on my left wrist and she is lying on one-third of the keyboard.

Nobody told me that life would get this serious. Later.
Monday, August 09, 2004
Right after teaching step class today, I headed for the lockerroom to change my sweaty sleeveless before starting my next class. I was hijacked by this lady who had just taken my class. During class, she was hooting and hollering. She had the entire right side of the room screaming and laughing. As she neared me, a feeling of dread came over me. What would she want? What was she going to say? Did she have a weapon? Would I have to be congenial?

When she got to me she said, "Where were you last Wednesday? I was so disappointed that you were not there to teach. I skipped church just for you!"

You know you're doing something special when people skip weeknight church attendance to take your step class. Later.
Sunday, August 08, 2004
Success!!!!! Thanks to my friend Janice for helping me figure out the reason for my large text. That Janice... you can always count on her.
Not sure why my blog has weird lettering. So, I am doing a test. Does anyone have an answer? I use Any answers would be great.
Tuesday, August 03, 2004
Two separate incidents happened lately that have me concerned. While chatting with an old friend on the street, the subject of my short shorts came up. My friend's companion asked me if I was not afraid that my business would pop out. Of course, my first response was, "What business?" The companion said, "You know, your... your... business!"

A few days later, someone in class had asked if I was ever concerned that my "stuff" would fall out. My response was, "What stuff?" She then said, "You know, your... your... stuff!" I then asked her, "You mean, my penis and balls?" She was mortified. It was the same look and reaction that I got from my friend's companion a few days earlier.

Why are we still afraid to say the word "penis"? Okay, by "we", I mean the general public. I once remember having a serious discussion with a group of fitness instructors about certain exercises, one of which involved the crotch area. As the subject wore on, it was apparent that a lot of them, if not all, were afraid of saying "penis". They did say "vaginal area" but when it came to referring to the male anatomy, they either coughed or hemmed or did something else. When I finally got a word in, I said, "Before we go on, I just want to say... PENIS." The whole group burst into laughter.

I am not sure why we are still afraid of the word "penis". What the hell is the big deal? It is the correct term for the male reproductive organ. It's not a "bad" word, so to speak. Maybe it's a societal thing. Recently, parts of a movie were removed for displaying male genitalia. I can only attribute it to the fact that most of those decisions are made by heterosexual males who tend to be afraid of saying "penis" lest people think they are gay.

So, I want to go on record as saying... PENIS... big, fat, thick, throbbing PENIS. Whew. Later.
I'm just writing down some of the things that run through my head.

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Location: New York, New York, United States

Eating up the City before it eats me up. I'm a freelance cook who spends his free time working out, cooking for "my man", and wondering why the Right is so concerned about my bedroom.

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