The Tweets
The Tweets

NSF(most people's)W

There is something strange about the weak in the knees feeling after you've pushed yourself to the limit during some physical activity. In some ways it's almost orgasmic. The feeling of achievement coupled with exhaustion is a very specific sensation.

It's especially weird--and somewhat thrilling--to have that sensation outside surrounded by other people who have no idea what I'm experiencing (I hope).

NSFW? Maybe.

Still a feeling that can turn your day around? Definitely.


When are computers like umpires?

I think I experienced my iPhone pulling the old "make good call" today. Before I go on, I know it's a ridiculous premise but I'm going with it anyway.

The other day I went for a run on the treadmill in my building's gym. Normally I run outside, but it was an unbelievably humid day. Humblebragging aside, I managed to run for a much longer time than my usual run outside, but for some reason, the app I use on my phone managed to short change me on the virtual distance I ran (I was comparing it to the counter on the treadmill itself, and I'm using my prerogative as the author to state that the treadmill did have the correct distance). I was slightly annoyed as it upped my average speed, something else the app tracks. This, of course only affected me, but it was troublesome all the same.

Then today, something very interesting happened. On my outside run today, after I had gone maybe 500 metres, the app logged a full kilometre. I continued my run, ending at a much higher recorded distance, but close to my usual distance. Of course this dropped my average speed (and basically evened out my total distance).

Unless Skynet is real, this is an amazing coincidence, but in my weird nerdy way, this restores the balance in the universe, and believe me, with the way I've been feeling lately--and with the month that's coming--I definitely needed a little balance.


Happy Father's Day

In lieu of an actual post today, I've decided to re-post something you can find in the "Past Wisdoms" section of this very blog. It was originally written over a year ago, but it being Father's Day today, I felt that it was an appropriate enough piece to plagiarize myself (with one spelling mistake corrected).

I love you Dad and I miss you every day:


They're not just for truck drivers...

Saturday, May 28, 2011 at 9:37AM

As someone who loves a good cup of coffee, I've wondered for years now exactly what it is about that really bad diner drip coffee. My taste buds know it's not good, yet somehow I tolerate it. I'd even go so far as to say I have a soft spot for it. 

Turns out it's my dad's fault.

That didn't come out exactly right, but it's true all the same. Everyone in my family is essentially a caffeine addict. I've been having a morning coffee since I was a pre-teen. Sure it was more milk and sugar than coffee back then but still. Every time we would go on a road trip, we would stop in at some roadside diner for breakfast at an ungodly hour. Obviously, the bottomless cup of black slop was a necessity for all of us. Besides, I was too young to know any better. 

As I got closer and closer to graduating from high school, I made the choice to attend a college 5 hours away. This of course took some fast talking to get my mother to go along with the plan, but that's another story for another time. What it also meant is that I had to take a couple of trips down to the school--once to see the campus and to take an English Placement Test, and once for what was essentially summer camp/college preview weekend in the residence. Both of which are also worthy to be discussed at length some other time. 

Anyway, as was tradition, we would wake up unbelievably early and head out, stopping a couple of hours in to have breakfast and our multiple cups of bad coffee. 

These trips were the beginning of the "adult relationship" between my dad and I. We had such good time, that on occasion, my dad would actually drive the five hours down to pick me up when I would come home for a long weekend just so we could spend some time alone together and hit up our favourite spots on the road. I think that's what started my love of driving, not to mention the big revelation of the day, why bad coffee is almost a perfect companion on a crappy day. 

In fact, I kind of want one right now.


Occupied bathroom stalls... a chicken and the egg style anecdote

It's funny how one seemingly small event can end up shaping your actions for years and years. We don't often think about why we pull back before turning a sharp corner or why we might hold our breath as we pass by a certain type of shop, but there's usually some reason behind all of the quirky little things that we do. It is a great relief to me that I am not 100% to blame for my weird little actions and behaviours... although there is this thing I do when I pay for things at cash registers... well, let's just say it's weird (not disgusting, just weird), and I have absolutely no idea where it came from.

What got me started on this, strangely enough was during a rewatching of Zombieland the other day. I won't go into things for those that haven't seen the movie, but there's a part near the beginning involving bathroom stalls and the dangers they can pose.

This scene got me to thinking that I, also, have an interesting way of approaching bathroom stalls when the need arises for them to be occupied by myself. In short, I tend to poke the door open slowly to ensure that they are free to use rather than assuming an unlocked stall is, in fact, unoccupied. Those of you with the stomach for it can dig through my past tweets and they'll come across one about a time when my naive dreams about the corrolation betoween unlocked stalls and empty stalls were shattered forever and I won't go into it here.

Needless to say, I have had no illusions about the horrors of public bathrooms since that incident. Where I am slightly confused is where my poking of the door habit started to take hold. Was it due to the aforementioned scene in Zombieland subconsciously getting into my head, or was my near run in the deciding factor in how I now approach the now dreaded stall? I know that I was never one to brashly fling open said doors in the past, but now I have an image of the film in my head whenever I need to enter one of these most private of areas, overlayed with a fear of reliving that traumatic event of months(?) ago. The emotions are so intertwined, that I can't seperate them any more, and I am left confused as to which one deserves the credit of completely rewiring how I do this one, very specific task.

Does any of this matter? Probably not, but if I didn't get this out of my head in some way I probably wouldn't be able to get to sleep tonight.

So thanks Internet, the unoccupied bathroom stall of Cyberspace!


Full disclosure...

I just realized that I was starting to neglect this site a bit. When I started this blog, I had this unwritten rule--that may have appeared in written form at some point--that I was going to try to write something every day (excluding weekends). I am beginning to realize that I may have been overreaching a bit.

The main reason was that I didn't want this to peter out and have this become another dead space on the web. I also want quality (or as much quality as I can produce anyway), so I think it's time to adjust my rule. Thankfully, I did call this blog Consistently Inconsistent, so I can get away without things being posted in some sort of consistent pattern.

At least once a week is probably a good goal to shoot for, at least for now. 

Don't hold me to that, though.

...also, this post explaining the posting totally counts as a post.