Interview

So... I had a job interview today, which I completely borked.

I ordinarily interview quite well, but today I looked like a moron. They began the interview by asking if I knew what they did. Rather than launching into what I had learned of their operation from their website and from seeing the results of their work crossing my desk in Financial Aid I said, "well, I've heard a lot of your spots on public radio..."

Slick, no? As they rehash the applicants later, I am sure to be remembered for that powerful opener, but not in the good way. I am so tired of being unemployed, but I'm even more tired of trying to sell myself to potential employers.

Perhaps it's time to return to my previous occupation. I'm sure some warehouse somewhere needs a forklift driver. And who wouldn't want a forklift driver with three humanities degrees?

I'm going to go drink over the draft of my thesis now.

Plant Sex Afterglow

Four things to report...

1) The annual plant orgy that makes it impossible for me to go outside appears to abating. I like to imagine them (the plants to which I am allergic) all kicking back smoking cigarettes and trying to decide if they should stay for breakfast or get out while the getting is good.

2) Last night, I was able to breathe well enough to go out for my first run in two weeks. Well, actually I am still unable to breathe through my nose, but my chest is clear enough. Thankfully, I don't seem to have lost much endurance - I was able to do the 25 minute workout without a break, and without residual soreness today. The barefoot/Vibram running style is making it possible for me to put in longer runs, more often. I easily could have run again today, but I didn't want to push it too quickly as I'm coming back from a layoff. I am torn between being glad that I discovered this running method, and wanting to firebomb Nike headquarters for convincing us all that we need thick-soled motion control shoes.

The good news is, I am no longer struggling with shinsplints and knee pain. The bad news is, this limits my running season even more. Without the protection of a thick sole, the ground will be WAY too cold to run on pretty early in the Fall. My guess is that by the middle of October it will be too cold to run outside, and it will stay that way until about April. My best hope is that I get one of the jobs at the university for which I have applied so that I'll have access to the indoor track, or I will have to buy a treadmill.

3) Vibram recently introduced a new shoe designed specifically for running - the Bikila. The line is named after the famous Ethiopian runner, Abebe Bikila, who won the 1960 Olympic Marathon, barefoot. He not only won it, but he set a world record of 2:16:20 on the cobblestones of Rome. During my childhood, the pictures of him winning that race were iconic. They were later replaced with Frank Shorter and Joan Benoit, but those color photos never seemed to have the same impact as the grainy black and whites of Bikila leading all of the shod runners in the final miles at Rome.

I hope Vibram has the permission of Bikila's estate to name this shoe after him (Bikila died tragically in 1973 at the age of 41, from injuries sustained in a car accident 4 years earlier). I wonder if his four children are profiting from the sales of this $100 shoe...

The jury is still out on their durability, comfort, etc., but everyone agrees that the color combo for women (pictured) is truly hideous. Rumor has it that a red/white/grey and a blue/white/grey are available or soon will be. If they receive positive reviews, I might consider a pair when my current Vibrams (KSOs) wear out. I hope they have them in black by then...

4) I'm a huge, tactless jackass. Not news, I know, but I was reminded of it recently when a friend said to me, "I feel ok talking to you about this because I know you won't sugarcoat it."

If folks only come to me for tough love, I guess I'm ok with that, but here I was, thinking that I had made strides toward being more sensitive to others in conversation. Apparently, the sword that is my tongue is just as sharp as ever.

Bedtime Cocktail

Due to circumstances beyond my control - a wet spring, a head cold, and an outdoor campaign event - I have been quite ill for the last week. So ill that I haven't been running or lifting. This makes me cranky.

I don't generally accept illness. You see, I grew up in a house where the motto was "better living through chemistry." My mother is a nurse anesthetist turned academic, but her true calling in life is pharmacology, so she firmly believes there is a pill for most everything, and the rest requires a syringe. I was taught that one should not acknowledge one's symptoms - just medicate them away and go about your business. Your immune system likes to work behind the scenes - it's best when you don't micromanage it. Mom was also a master of drug interactions - she was an expert at concocting exactly the cocktail to suit all your symptoms at once, with no ill effects. On one Sunday afternoon in the '80s she successfully treated me for back spasms, a hangover, depression, and swimmer's ear, solely with the pills in her purse. That was a hell of a weekend, by the way...

Now that I no longer live near enough to my mother to request a concoction for every little sniffle, I have become my own mixologist. We here at the Hayfever Lounge take our nightcaps seriously, so I've put a lot of research into this. As a big man with Irish tolerances and epic allergies, I need something that can knock out my cough, stop the itchy nose and runny eyes, clear the congestion enough so I can lie down without feeling like I'm drowning, and overcome my daily caffeine intake (two 20oz diet Mt. Dews) so I can sleep. A tall order, I know, but the current "house special" is getting the job done. Here's the recipe...

Ingredients:
NielMed Sinus Rinse
NyQuil Liquicaps
Claritin
Afrin Nasal Spray
Theraflu Warming Relief formula
Ricola Cherry Honey Cough Drops
paper umbrella (optional)

First, rinse sinuses with neti pot and NeilMed Sinus Rinse. Spray two shots of Afrin in each newly cleared nostril. (Gagging slightly at this point is normal.) Throw back two Nyquil Liquicaps and a Claritin with a shot of Theraflu. (I find the "cherry lighter fluid" flavor mixes with and destroys the taste of the Afrin better than the "orange paint thinner" flavor.) Chase with a Ricola cough drop to stop the heaves.

Not quite what mom used to make, but we can never get those recipes right anyway, can we? The missing ingredient is always love...

After this, I recommend brushing your teeth and going straight to bed, as the onset can be quite sudden. Last night, I had one of these and sat down to play BioShock 2. About 10 minutes later I drooling on my chest and Big Daddy was stuck head-first in a corner, getting humped by splicers.

Remember kids, don't do drugs, and don't drink (cold meds) and drive. Stay in school.

The Addiction

On top of my allergies, I am experiencing my first summer cold in a long time. One of the Flockhall inmates shared it with us, then left for vacation; the bastard. I am simultaneously sweating and chilled, and I have a cough that is best described as "chunky" and "nasty-ass."

I've discovered that I am also suffering from the worst illness of all - civilization. Some events of late have conveyed to me in painful detail just how far removed I am from the natural state. I was, not that long ago, quite capable out in the world, but I am all soft underbelly now. I am, like so many in America, dying from our collective success.

We have succeeded in removing so many of the dangers (and excitements) from our lives, that our senses have become dulled, and our reflexes along with them. We are deadened, taking in the world around us through various filters - air conditioners, LCD monitors, UV glass in our cars, earbuds, shoes, etc. You could say that we are addicted to altering the experience. Unfortunately, the undiluted experience is what transforms. It's the friction that grinds away the rough edges, that forces us to grow. By dulling the experience we stagnate. We become soft, fat, overindulged, and whiny.

The solution? I'm not sure yet, but for starters I know I need to get outside more. That's hard to imagine right now, when everything that blooms is trying to kill me. I've already bored you all with my allergy woes in the past, so I won't go over it again. Suffice it to say that I will not be going outside for extended periods until I wake up without my throat feeling a skinned knee. Once that happens, however, some hiking and trail running is in order.

Blisters

If you've read my other blog in the last few days, you know that I gave myself a few blisters by going running barefoot. It was a very short run (only .6 mile), just to start the long process of toughening up my feet, but clearly I haven't been in direct contact with the ground for a very long time. I've been practicing the barefoot style of running, using very minimal shoes and striving for a high-cadence mid-foot stride, but I had not put my tootsies directly on the pavement until Tuesday.

Blisters are actually a good training tool for barefoot running. Assuming the pavement you are running on is not scorching hot, if you get blisters you know that your foot is not relaxed, or that you are pushing or twisting in some way with each step; it's an ouchy indicator of stride problems. If it hurts or leaves marks, you're doing it wrong.

The idea that pain can be diagnostic or instructive is foreign to modern Western sports training - the exercise and fitness industry tries to convince us all on a daily basis that a painless 20 minutes, 3 times a week is all it takes to look like a member of the Greek pantheon. It's a concept common to traditional martial arts, however. An example from Karate is the makiwara, or punching board. It's basically a square post sticking up out of the ground, padded at the top with a bundle of straw wrapped up in rope. It trains the karateka to make a proper fist, and to deliver a focused strike. Failing to do either of those things results in immediate feedback - it hurts. Hitting the makiwara correctly can hurt a bit too, but the first time you don't keep your fist tight or you don't land the punch squarely on the first two knuckles, you KNOW you did something wrong. Blisters are much the same for the barefoot runner

Based on the blisters I've got at the moment, my right foot was doing something very wrong. I have a blister on the ball of my foot that was practically crippling yesterday - today it's just irritating, but still enough to keep me from running. I have been fussing over these owies since I got them on Tuesday. They've been drained, trimmed, disinfected, and lotioned, but they will only heal so fast. Missing three days of running is unacceptable; there are races I want to be ready for later in the summer, I just moved up in my running program to 25 minute intervals, and I am close to meeting a couple of my goals on the Nike+ site... And that's when it hit me.

I miss running.

I am actually jonesing for a run.

I know - you're stunned. So am I. This is ME we're talking about here; Mister "I-didn't-train-with-weapons-for-years-to-run-from-shit."

When I was told that I had to run a 2 mile qualifier at the State Patrol Academy I asked the instructor why. He said it was to simulate chasing a suspect, to which I replied, "isn't that why we have cars?"

When I was asked to participate in a fundraiser at the University of Nebraska, I chose the 50 mile bike ride instead of the 5k run.

My zombie apocalypse preparedness plan has always been, "You go ahead - I'll hold them off until you come back with help."

Despite all this, I find myself grousing about not being able to run. I am beginning to doubt my foundations. I feel as though I might wake up tomorrow and say, "no, thanks - I don't like chocolate anymore. Also, I've given my life to Jesus and registered as a Republican."

To be honest, running is something I've always wanted to like. It appeals to my ideals about simple, natural fitness. It doesn't require a gym membership or thousands of dollars worth of special equipment, it's something we all learn to do when we're toddlers, and it's the foundation of so many other sports. It's also the ultimate form of self-reliance; if the world falls into utter Thunderdome chaos tomorrow, it's comforting to know that I will be able to get to the food riots and slave arenas in a timely fashion on my own two feet.

So you see, I like the idea of running - the problem for me has always been the running itself. I was actually pretty fast as a kid; I remember running the 40 in Jr. High football and having the second fastest time on the team. I ran the 220 in track and did pretty well (26 seconds flat in 9th grade). It was the longer distances, however, that screwed me up. I was told by well-meaning coaches to lengthen my stride when I wasn't sprinting, stretching my legs out in front of me so that I was heel-striking with every step. Years of shinsplints, bruised heels, knee pain, and clunky, motion-control shoes made me hate running.

Now I'm trying to run like a child again. Without heel strike, without padded shoes, and without so much concern for long, fluid leg motion. People who run with that motion are built like gazelles - long thin legs and low-fat bodies, and beautiful they are, but that's not me. My legs are more like tree trunks, thus I run more like... an Ent?

So, yeah - Treebeard, Quickbeam, and I are going to pick up a quick 3 miler when my foot heals...

Tennis is tougher than the World Cup

UPDATE: Isner finally defeated Mahut in 11 hours and five minutes: 6-4, 3-6, 6-7, 7-6, 70-68

This blog has seen several posts about competition. I contend that every game is an attempt to create a fair test that determines which side is best, given the victory conditions agreed upon for that game. This is the raison d'être of sporting contests - to answer that question.

That said, I am sick to fucking death of the World Cup. Games which end in a tie, have, by definition, failed to answer this basic question. In fact, games which are allowed to end in a tie, serve only one purpose - they extend the length of the tournament. All tournaments that use formats other than single elimination are designed to do this. They are perfectly suited for children's sports, actually. If, for example, you play a double elimination tournament in Little League, it guarantees that the kids get to play at least two games, no matter how badly they play. A round-robin tourney is even better - you can lose to every single team there (France...) but at least you get to be on the field a lot.

In the case of professional football players, this sort of gentleness is unnecessary - they are big boys, they can handle losing one game and going home. The fact that the "real" part of the tournament - the final 16 - is played with extra time and shootouts to bring the games to a conclusive end shows that FIFA is aware that ties are useless, and ultimately dissatisfying. It has been argued in the past that football is so taxing that making the early games in the tournament go into extra time would be too much for the players. This is nonsense - the truth is, the World Cup uses this format to make certain that about eleventy-jillion dollars are made during this month. The same is true of the sketchy ball they are using for this World Cup - it's not about the contest, it's about the benjamins.

As if to make my point crystal clear, we have the ongoing battle of France's Nicolas Mahut and John Isner of the United States, currently taking place at Wimbledon. These two guys have logged 10 hours of tennis, in a match that is now going into its third day. At the time I'm writing this, Isner and Mahut are tied at 59 games all in the fifth set. Isner has served 98 aces, while Mahut has served 94. The match has been stopped twice on account of fading light, and will resume tomorrow.

This, ladies and gentlemen, is why you don't accept ties. This is dramatic, exciting, record-breaking sport - as opposed to the boring, ho-hum crap the World Cup has offered up. You don't hear these guys complaining about it being too taxing; they are just going to keep playing until there is a winner! (Also - and this is completely unrelated to my beef with ties, just a personal note - I would like to point out that those goddamned plastic vuvuzela horns are not allowed in the stands at Wimbledon!)



Tennis doesn't mess with the ball. Tennis doesn't allow bad behavior, from fans or players, and most importantly, tennis doesn't accept ties. The World Cup folks could take a tip from tennis.

Couple the completely boring World Cup results (a full quarter of the games played so far have ended in ties, according to this results chart), the ball that everyone hates, and the general tendency of soccer players to fling themselves to the ground as though shot with a large calibre handgun whenever another player's sleeve brushes them, and you have a recipe for an embarrassingly lame tournament.

There - I said it. The World Cup is lame. I am prepared for the ire of the fans of the world's most popular game, but seriously, this is pretty sad.

InFamous

As promised, today's post is about the PS3's InFamous. In this superhero-fantasy-fulfillment you play Cole McGrath, former bike messenger and parkour god of Empire City. On a routine delivery run the package he is carrying explodes, killing thousands and unleashing a virulent plague on the city. Of course, the explosion doesn't kill Cole (everyone knows the safest place to be when terrifying new technologies explode is ground zero) and when he awakes he finds he is imbued with electrical powers.

It starts out small - he can shoot little bursts of lightning, send out a static shock wave, and resist damage to some extent. He is also given some serious strength which makes his parkour abilities truly crazy. In fact, he kind of looks like he's the love child of a drunken hump between Assassin's Creed II and The Prince of Persia. That's how he earned his nickname around Flockhall, "Electric Monkey Man."

Like Ezio, he can climb to the highest points in his environment and dive off, but Cole doesn't need a hay bale to land in. In fact, one of his later powers ("Thunder Drop") allows him to fall ridiculous distances as an explosive attack. The higher the fall, the bigger the boom, so jumping off tall buildings is actually encouraged. Later in the game he shows off the other side of his genetics as he learns to slow down time for sniping. Cole, however, doesn't need the dagger of time to do it - he just needs a little bit of electricity.

As the game progresses he becomes a juggernaut of vaguely electric whoop-ass. By the end of the game he can actually call down lightning from heaven. (If there was any justice in this world the Black Pope would have that power...)

Although the game has a plot, and there is a bit of a twist at the end, it resides in a very implausible neighborhood, and ultimately it's not all that important. The thing about this game is the play itself. It has elements of so many game types - skateboarding, platformers, melee fighters, 3rd person shooters, sniper simulators, and even scavenger hunts. Although I played the plot missions all the way through to the end, I did all of the side quests first, simply because I liked the way Cole moves through the city. Grinding on the wires to gain speed then flying on static thrust to the next rooftop, where you rain down shock grenades on the thugs below is a beautiful way to spend an afternoon.

Another great element of the game is the healing system. When you get hurt, just look for an electrical source and charge up. If you wish, you can heal (or drain) the people you find injured on the street as well. I spent about 30 minutes one day just running around the city playing Jesus. I would walk up to an injured civilian, touch him and say, "Arise, take up thy bed, and go unto thine house." Very satisfying, albeit a bit sacrilegious. (Another power that the Pontifex Niger should have...)

When the final battle arrived, I wanted to go back into the city and find more side missions. There were none. I stalled, skating around the city on the train tracks, looking for thugs to beat up. I felt like the last guy at a party, saying "come on guys, the night is young!" Eventually, I accepted that the ride was over, and it was time to go face the boss.

After a titanic struggle, I beat him. Well, actually it just took titanic cursing, but I got it done. Watched the credits roll, then ran around the newly freed city a bit... and it wasn't the same. The crisis was over, the thugs were gone, and Electric Monkey Man was no longer needed.

Luckily, InFamous 2 is in the works, with a 2011 release date.