When I was young, I found this old calculator my mom or dad must have used way back in the day. This must have been one of the first fancy calculators to hit the market. Inside the sleeve, there was a laminated cardboard card that discussed the idea of biorhythms, that our bodies have natural emotional, intellectual, and physical cycles. The calculator even contained special functions that would calculate your biorhythms based on your birthdate.
I note all of this just to note that I think I just recently passed a trough in my emotional biorhythm. Funny, this memory came back to me over the weekend, when I felt just completely burned out on work and life, and today I thought of looking up "biorhythm" in Google, and I found a gazillion links to sites that do this for you. Try charting your biorhythm. According to this, I'm actually about to enter an emotional and physical trough, but an intellectual upswing. That's depressing. I was planning on going to Whistler this weekend, too. I wonder if I should reconsider that plan. Maybe some unknown traps await me there.
Side note: If you use IE 5 or higher as your browser and are on Windows 95 or higher, add a Google toolbar to your browser! It's one of the few browser add-ons I've found useful. You'll never have to actually click over to a search engine again.
Sunday, N Sync guest starred on The Simpsons. That was one
of the funniest episodes I've seen in a long time. Bart, Milhaus, and the "ha ha" boy and some other kid form a boy band. In the age of irony, this is what we've come to. Success is not to be lampooned on Saturday Night Live, it's to lampoon yourself on The Simpsons. One must truly entered the bloodstream of pop culture to earn a guest starring spot on The Simpsons. Look at the list: Ernest Borgnine, Cypress Hill, Adam West, The Ramones, Mulder and Scully...
On a positive note, the third season of The Sopranos, the best show on television, kicks off Sunday with a special two hour premiere. Worth the price of an HBO subscription, trust me. Hotter than the smoking barrel of your daddy's gun.
Sunday I rode the Chilly Hilly, the first real organized bike ride of the season, one loop around Bainbridge Island. It lived up to its name--I froze my ass off at parts, and nearly died of exhaustion at others, usually near the top of some steep, long hills. I'm clearly not in prime cycling shape yet. I felt like I was about to just slow to a stop on a few hills, and people passed me on those left and right. It just ended up frustrating me more than anything. I rode with Rachael, Todd, Tim, and Jessie. In fact, Jessie ended up finishing third out of the hundreds of riders there! Lordy. I think I'll be his domestique on RAMROD.
Somehow, though, in my current "funk," let's call it, I enjoyed suffering out on those hills. They say pain is weakness leaving the body. Cycling is so simple. You're either faster than the next rider, or you're not. Who is stronger, and who is willing to suffer more. I may not be the strongest guy around, but I'm willing to suffer more than the next guy. Chilly Hilly
woke me up. Time to toughen up, suck it up, take my medicine.
Joannie doesn't think I can, but I can.