Michael Sheard
1940-2005
He has failed us for the last time.

Have I made it?

I just discovered that I actually have a listing on the Internet Movie Database. Now, one would think that this would be immediate cause to jump for joy, however there is a fairly big problem with this; the only project for which I'm credited is...well...something I plan to keep off my resume when I gain more experience. Aside from that, it's not entirely difficult to get one of those things. I could just totally make up a movie that doesn't even exist and throw it on the database. It wouldn't surprise me if there are people out there who have done precisely that. I can, however, confirm that this is not the case. The project listed under my name does exist (unfortunately) and I did indeed edit it. It feels like a minor accomplishment of sorts. I'll feel better, though, when I have something good to add to the filmography.

Sore...so sore...

I got my hair cut on Saturday, and when I got home, I looked at myself in the mirror. First of all, I must admit that my mother is right; I do look better with longer hair. Unfortunately, it's not as easy to maintain. I like the convenience of just being able to dry it with a towel and not having to brush it if I don't feel like it. Plus, it's impervious to bedhead and hat hair. So the way I figure it is that I can get my hair cut really short and then let it grow out for, like, a month and a half or so. That way, I get the best of both worlds, plus it cuts down on the expense. Haircuts are expensive these days.

Second, as I looked at myself in the mirror, I noticed that my face seemed a little fuller than it usually does. "This won't do," I thought to myself. "How will the ladies like me if I'm not at my svelte best?" So on Sunday morning, I made a monumental decision; I decided to go jogging.

Now, I haven't jogged in literally a couple years (almost two and a half, in fact). Before that, I did jog for two summers in a row, however when I did so, I never actually noticed any difference in my physique. Hell, I barely noticed an improvement in my ability to be physically active. After a while, I would get less sore, but I still felt like I was going to die after each twenty-minute session. I kept it up for three months straight (three times a week), but it never seemed to make an impact. Even though I didn't alter my diet, the fact that I was altering the amount of activity I got should have done something. No matter; as soon as class started again, I just couldn't keep up with it.

I had lost some weight since I'd started working at Half Price Books. For one thing, I was making sure to drink at least 64 oz. of water per day. For another, that job requires the employee to be up and about for about seven hours straight. Since I stopped working at the bookstore, I've taken up an office job that doesn't give me much more to do aside from sitting at a computer for a good chunk of the day. I started taking walks almost everyday because of that, but the damnable heat kept me from continuing to do so. You see, I'm one of those people who hates temperatures that get much higher than 70°. On top of that, I also have the inability to tan, so if I'm out in the sun for about five minutes, I will receive third degree burns on any exposed part of my body. Unfortunately, I don't have a head that's made for hats, so while I went out wearing one, I looked completely ridiculous in ways no one should.

I woke up Sunday with the strange compulsion to go jogging. This time, I figured I had a secret weapon, Mike's mini MP3 player. Beforehand, one of the things that made jogging completely unbearable was the fact that I didn't have a personal stereo of any kind. I would try humming to myself, but you can only do that for so long until you need to stop in favor of breathing. So I uploaded some get-pumped metal onto the thing, stretched for a few minutes, and then went about my merry way. Soon, I was reminded why it had been years since I'd done this.

Before the first song was over, I felt the icy hand of death upon my shoulder. But I was determined to soldier on. I kept jogging for the next five minutes or so, but soon, I couldn't keep it up. I started walking. For the next ten minutes, I would alter between jogging and walking, but I stuck with the latter more than I wanted to.

It was all I could do to keep from collapsing on the floor when I got home. I stretched out and showered afterwards, but it didn't seem to help all that much. When I woke up this morning, I was more sore than I think I've ever been in my entire life. My legs screamed with pain every time I moved, but I still got out of bed and, more unbelievable even to myself, I went jogging again. This time, helped by the lower temperature this morning, I was actually able to jog for twenty minutes straight. I don't know how I accomplished this, but somehow I did. Of course, now, my soreness has reached proportions that make even the tiniest movements unbearable.

So the question is, will I be able to do it tomorrow? I don't know. Should my misery subside enough, perhaps. But if you were to ask me to go right now, I would most likely beat you savagely with a piece of wood. I guess only time will tell.