Thursday, May 16, 2013

Never Again

Most dining establishments have windows.  Some of them even have seats and tables next to them.  The burrito joint that I go to sometimes everyday has a table and row of bar stools you can grab a seat at if you're in for a bite and want to people watch or see how smoggy the sky is.  Well in Beijing we have a transition period between winter and summer where the weather and AQI are actually quite agreeable.  Some call it "spring" but the more jaded of us just call it something along the lines of "those 2 to 3 weeks or so where I don't fucking hate this place."  Anyways, the other day was one of those days.  The sky was blue.  The temperatures were mild.  You could almost imagine bird singing.  So I grabbed a seat by the window, forgetting that people can see you eat as you sit there.  Awkward.  No one should ever see what I can do to a burrito.  The next 4min 32secs all people saw was a monster.  I'm like the T-Rex in Jurassic Park housing that goat.  Not pretty. 

Also I think I ate some aluminum foil.  People probably saw it happen too...

Tuesday, May 14, 2013

It's (Sometimes) Always Sunny in Beijing China

Oh hey
What's up?

You know that show that was on TV when I left?  "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia"?  It might still be on air now, but I don't really watch TV or download anything these days. 

Anyways, there's a scene where Mac gets called out for his unique "fashion" sense.  More specifically, he was getting ragged on by Dennis about the shirts that Mac steals from him and cuts the sleeves off to accentuate his (non-existent) physique or "bulk" or whatever he says.

Well I'm like the climbing-version of Mac.  I don't like wearing sleeves when I climb so I just cut them off my shirts.  I don't have anything but unimpressive scraggly limbs to show underneath, but I just plain don't care.  It's comfortable so it makes sense, despite how dumb it looks.  

Y'know what also looks dumb?  The arm and back tan I have from climbing.  Spending all day facing a wall with the sun on your back makes you look a bit silly.  So if you see some guy with tanned sun-burnt arms, a pale face, and hands that look like they were put in a blender, that's me.  Buy me some sunscreen or aloe or something.  I'm too proud dumb to buy it myself.

Wednesday, March 27, 2013

Self-Inflicted Narcolepsy

It's hump day.

I've started noticing that Wednesday and Fridays are the most common days for unscheduled desk naps.  The cause of these self-inflicted narcoleptic episodes had alluded me for a while but I came to realization today that it stems from more than simply lack of sleep or office monotony.

Tuesday and Thursday nights are gym climbing nights at the gym.  I'm there almost every evening shuffling my way up whatever route or boulder problem I can muster until the gym closes at 10pm.  Now that's not a particularly late night, but when you couple that with the post-gym dinner that needs cooking, the shower that needs taking, and the millions of webpages that need surfing, I'm usually not ready to turn in until 2am, which isn't exactly the best bedtime for someone that wants to be productive at work the next day.

Apparently I'm not good at time management.  I have my work-decompression rituals; vegging out, eating, reading, putting on some tunes or a movie in the background.  But when I go climbing I have to put those rituals off until after I get home from the gym and then I add on my other post-climbing rituals; airing out smelly climbing shoes, showering, muscle flexing in front of the mirror, etc.  Somethings gotta go, but at least I've successfully (sort of) weeded out all the mid-week (binge) drinking.  So I'm being healthier(?)

Friday, March 22, 2013

Nodding Off

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooossssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooofjimioooooooooofddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooodddddddddddoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiioooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiijjooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin

that's what it looks like when I fall asleep with my hands on the keyboard
TGIF

Tuesday, March 19, 2013

Be a Hero App

Stumbled across this app somehow.

Fitocracy

It an app.
(Everyeffingthing these days is an app.)

Maybe I'm just this old, crusty retro grouch that hates technology, but can someone explain to me why "social media" is heading in this direction?  I get that InstaTweetBook is a communication platform that has the power to connect family, friends, and advertisers in a single place.  But I really don't get these specialized apps like this one where you record you workout schedule for everyone to check out.

I even get Strava, but only in the regards that it's a great way to find new training routes, especially if you're in a new place.  Also it's a pretty simple program, sorry "app," that you just switch on and the GPS, blueteeth and other gizmos track your ride or run.

Fitocracy, though?

So you have to manually input each set and rep for each workout you do at the gym?  Isn't that kinda like homework?  Don't jocks and gym rats hate homework?  Ok, ok...  I'll leave my Saved by the Bell Stereotypes out of it for now.  But this app seems just as silly as SBTB, just without the live-audience "oooOOOoooohhh!" when Kelly Kapowski enters the room in a bikini.

Then again I'm not exactly in their market demographic.  I am neither a fitness geek nor do I seek out the advice of so-called (self-proclaimed) fitness geeks.  I'm a surly anti-social weakling that would rather not share the 2.5 push-ups that I can do with the world.  Also I'm the type of guy that doesn't go to the gym for going to the gym's sake.  I used to ride my bike indoors so I could ride outdoors faster.  I climb at an indoor gym so I can climb harder (and safer) outdoors.  I don't push/pull heavy steel plates and rods in a linear direction indoors so I can push heavier steel plates/rods outdoors.  So I guess I just don't see the point.  Is the end objective in Fitocracy and extensive gym workouts in general supposed to be that I can take my shirt off and show the world my sculpted musculature?  I generally think that once you broadcast your workout routines to the internet, no one is going to give a shit if you have definition or striations  in your pectoids or your deltagonals.

Further to my anti-social point earlier, I kind of just do my own thing.  I don't really "connect" with people as much as I just randomly bump into them.  It's like "oh hey! you like to do XY&Z?  Me too.  I'm gonna go over there now. K'bye."  It's not that I always need my space or hate everyone, but since when does having a common interest or sport automatically make you my friend?  I have many friends that I've met through cycling/climbing; but I also know a ton of people that I wouldn't ever ride or climb with.  Some people you just can't see eye-to-eye with.  So the idea that this is a fun, interactive game doesn't really appeal to me.  I'm a beautiful and unique butterfly dammit.  My wins, losses, and badges of honor can't be calculated in an app.  They're measured by the number of meaningful and obviously highly subjective experiences that I have (as cliche as that sounds).  I don't need to share those with the entire world.  The entire world would never get it and to that end I'm ok with being misunderstood.











 
PS: What's with the name?  I loosely "get" that it's supposed to sound like Fit Democracy in the same way that I "get" that being "Fit" and "Democratic" (and "sober") are all supposed to be good things.  But the name sounds more like "hypocrisy" so it has a slightly more negative ring for me.  Maybe I just just clean my ears out though.

Tuesday, March 12, 2013

Potato, Tomahto.

You know what I both love and hate about climbing?

Its online presence.

Compared to cycling, it's a lot smaller and less dynamic.  Less people follow the competitions.  And gear reviews are all generally the same.  There's nothing groundbreaking about a new 2014 model year harness; whereas Specialized updates it's Tarmac every 2 years with new whizz-bang features like ejector seats and airbags.  Climbing stuff just gets a little more efficient.  Not like "cycling efficiency" where you have to ride a x-hundred watts to claim a 2-second advantage over a doped up race horse.  A carabiner gets lighter, more keylocked, then that's it.  An assisted-braking belay device does about the same thing.  A shoe gets different rubber.  But overall, it seems like none of these are brought about with as much ground-breaking flair as even the most trivial cycling components and accessories.

A new helmet?!  MIND BLOWING (pun intended)
A new chamois creme?!  HOLY BALLS (sorry, i punned again)

No.  The majority of climbing media is the same story over and over again.  Some really outrageously strong dude that gets paid to do nothing but climb climbs something really outrageously difficult.  It's like reading about Jordan (or whoever else plays ball good) slam-dunking over a row of Mini Coopers.  Then there a a smattering of stories of stereotypical dirtbag stories about road trips, weird food/smells, and living the dream.  The only major variation in the blank, slabby face climb that is rock climbing online media is the location.

Now here's the important part.  

I am constantly and simultaneously bored and excited by climbing media.  Bored because when I'm reading it, it's the same ol same ol.  I'm usually at a desk reading about people that aren't. After about 15min, I've scanned every new article about the climbing world and can carry on with my next task: PLANNING CLIMBING TRIPS (*HIGH FIVE*)

Location, Location, Location.
In some regards, climbing has the advantage over cycling.  For an anti-social hermit like this Idiot, climbing is appealing because it usually means relatively remote locations that are 
  • Difficult to access (a flight, 3 buses, 1 moto, and a ferry to Cat Ba Island anyone?)
  • Don't require a lot of communication with your travel partners who are usually far below you on belay or up above you making your foot-dragging tear-soaked redpoint look like a cakewalk
  • Dirtier than Dirt McGirt, ODB, Big Baby Jesus, The Specialist, The Ol' Dirty Chinese Restaurant
  • Cheaper than... [insert funny thing here]
 So I spend all my time on MountainProject and now have a list with a lot of cheap, dirty, awkward, and remote places that I want to go to.  Who's down?


The list at the moment includes: Getu, Cebu, Kalymnos, Geyikbayiri, Cat Ba, Ulaan Baatar, Railey, Kunming, Thakhek, Flatanger, Bogota, and many more.


 




Thursday, January 24, 2013

Office Scuzz - the Work Trip post


 scuz(z) definition
[skəz]
  1. n.
    filth. :  What is this scuzz all over the floor?
  2. n.
    a nasty person; an undesirable person; a scraggly person. :  And this scuzz comes up to me and asks me to dance, and I'm like, “What?”
  


I'm in another big city in China.  It doesn't matter which.  I'm not here for pleasure (I generally don't find cities "pleasant" to start with).  I'm here for work; a account planning workshop to be specific. 


Over the next three days, I will be sitting in the same windowless conference room listening to our account managers* present a detailed review of their accounts.  Every.  Little.  Detail.   (Note: we call them something else but it takes too long to explain this.  Basically we’re “special.”)
There’s probably a laundry list of things I could write at length about for my situation; the long hours, the bad coffee (Starbucks, gross), my inability to understand xx% of the conversations due to the language barrier, and on and on (andonandonandonandon)

But there’s one thing that pulls all these workshop discomforts together: the Office Scuzz
Office Scuzz is that layer of filth that saturates your body and mind when you’ve been working too long, drank too much shitty coffee, and haven’t had a proper meal (i.e. anything and a glass of bourbon).  Your eyes feel heavy and glazed from constantly focusing and refocusing on presentation screens, open inboxes and from taping them open with scotch tape in a failed attempt to stay awake.  Your skin is crawling from the room temperature that somehow seems too hot and too cold at the same time.  Your pores are clogged and greasy from the crap food and stifling ventilation.  The entire inside of your mouth has been scalded with 2nd degree burns from trying to chug gallons of coffee fast enough in the hope that it bypasses your major tastebuds so that you might, one day, use them to taste real food once again.  Speaking of food, as a result of the workshop diet you’ve been subjected to, your bowels are either completed evacuated or more clogged than Beijing traffic during rush hour.

Unfortunately, there is no cure for Office Scuzz.  It’s a condition that can only be relieved with time (a lot of time) away from the office.  I’ve tried to rid myself of the scuzz numerous times with less than stellar results.  Drinking heavily (surprisingly) is not helpful.  The booze seeping out of your pores the day after binge drinking tends to mix with the Scuzz and form a deadly concoction of nausea and “ickiness” that can’t be removed with anything short of a brillo pad and industrial cleaners and an alcohol-enhanced tolerance for scrubbing yourself with a brillo pad and industrial cleaners.  It’s a vicious cycle, y’see? Exercise would seem like a logical, safe, and healthy way of shaking the mental (and sometimes literal) cobwebs off.  But the types of exercise activities I participate in are generally reckless and rife with opportunities to hurt myself.  I’m  sure it’s me and not the sports, but even still sitting in a meeting room dealing with post-bike-crash road rash, ripped blisters/flappers from overgripping on a climb, or the fileted soles of my feet from “barefoot” running too-far-too-“fast”/soon isn’t that much fun and hardly seems worth it.  I also tried hypnotizing myself, but can’t stand the sound of my own voice (have you ever heard it?!)

Blog writing seems to help ease the condition a bit, but tends to have a serious effect on productivity and comprehension skills (things this Idiot generally runs low on to begin with).

PS – If you haven’t noticed, I complained about the tedium of sitting in a conference room and then pursued another form of it by listing all the ways said tedium affects me.  Your mind is blown isn’t it?  Mine isn’t.  It’s a puddle of mush covered in Office Scuzz.