Those that know me well know that this will be my first Valentine's Day that I actually have a girlfriend for. But, just as in years past, I will not be celebrating it. Now, before I get chastized and warned, let me tell you that the lady friend and I are on the same page about this.
Now, I know what you're thinking. "She's just saying that." "She's testing you, and you're going to fail." I can see where this would be true with a lot of people, but this person in question is not the type that gets satisfaction from testing people, or trying to trick them into doing something for them.
Before I get into it, let me just say that I have nothing against those who do celebrate Valentine's Day. That's your perogative. And that smiling teddy bear holding a heart that reads "I love you" that you are planning to buy for her is really cute.
What I've never understood about Valentine's Day is that it is not the type of thing a holiday should exist for. We shouldn't need a specific day to celebrate love, because love is something that should be celebrated everyday.
There does not, to my knowledge, exist a day called "Don't kick your friends day". That is because we don't need a designated day to remind us that it is wrong to kick your friends. You know that is wrong, and so (most likely), every day, you wake up, and you do not kick your friends. Having a day to recognize that would be a bit redundant.
I see Valentine's Day the same way. You should not need a special day marked off on your calendar to remind you to show love for your significant other, family members, friends, etc. That should be an inherent thing that you do every day. Furthermore, even if you see Valentine's Day as that day where you go above and beyond for that special someone, why do you need a certain date to remember to do that?
I believe that doing something special for someone because you are supposed to, or because somebody (or a group of stores) told you to is akin to doing something kind for someone else for the sheer reason of receiving praise for yourself. It's misguided. It's meaningless.
My other reason for not wanting to celebrate Valentine's Day is that I don't feel like giving my money to Hallmark, or whoever else because I don't think they deserve to make money on a day based on love, when quite frankly, they couldn't possibly care less about genuine love. Because if they did, they'd realize love is not shown with things; it is shown with your words and actions. I also don't feel like giving my money to a restaurant to sit in a crowded room with a bunch of other couples, eating entrees that could be bought for half the price the day before or the day after, and probably with better service as well.
As I said, I'm not going to criticize people who choose to celebrate this day. And I don't presume to be some sort of expert in any way when it comes to this stuff. Undoubtedly, I have a boatload to learn. But I do believe that if you need this day to show that you do love that special someone, chances are you've got way bigger problems to deal with than 'what color of roses should I buy'.
Z
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
30 Day Challenge: Country Radio
I watched a short, cute TedTalk about trying something new for 30 days. (You can watch it here.. http://www.ted.com/talks/matt_cutts_try_something_new_for_30_days.html)
The idea is to think of something you've always wanted to do, and just do it everyday for 30 days. For instance, Matt decided to write a novel, and so every day, he would write a certain number of words.
Now, of course, I decided to make this project my own, so I decided to do something that I didn't want to do at all.
Those that know me well know that I'm not a huge fan of country music. Or even a regular-sized fan for that matter.
But I think one of the reasons I don't like it is that I've never given it much of a chance. So that's what I'm doing. 30 days of nothing but country radio (while I'm on the road). I'm currently on day number nine, and I haven't gone crazy yet.
In fact, there's been some positives. Fewer people are asking me for rides these days because they know what's up. On the opposite side of the coin, I think Jenn might dump me. Them's the breaks.
So yeah, give it a shot. Whether it's something you've always wanted to do, or something you think you might want to just give a chance, go for it. 30 days. You'll be glad you did.
The idea is to think of something you've always wanted to do, and just do it everyday for 30 days. For instance, Matt decided to write a novel, and so every day, he would write a certain number of words.
Now, of course, I decided to make this project my own, so I decided to do something that I didn't want to do at all.
Those that know me well know that I'm not a huge fan of country music. Or even a regular-sized fan for that matter.
But I think one of the reasons I don't like it is that I've never given it much of a chance. So that's what I'm doing. 30 days of nothing but country radio (while I'm on the road). I'm currently on day number nine, and I haven't gone crazy yet.
In fact, there's been some positives. Fewer people are asking me for rides these days because they know what's up. On the opposite side of the coin, I think Jenn might dump me. Them's the breaks.
So yeah, give it a shot. Whether it's something you've always wanted to do, or something you think you might want to just give a chance, go for it. 30 days. You'll be glad you did.
Monday, February 22, 2010
The Olympic Standard
I've had the time of my life over the past ten days watching as much of the Olympics as I possibly can. Due to amazing coverage from CTV and others, it's hard to miss a beat. Sportscasters have educated me as sports have come and gone so that I never feel ignorant to what is going on.
But that's not what this post is about.
For me, there's been one resounding theme for these Olympics above anything else: disappointment.
Granted the people on TV have done a great job and have offered an amazing amount of support to our athletes.
But among us normal citizens, the watchers of the games, we have talked about nothing more than the disappointments during the Olympics.
And it tears me up.
Sure, canadians have expectations from these Olympics because we were told to. We were expected to have the most medals, and to win the most golds (very possible by the way). Fair enough. But if we win 20 medals as a country instead of 30, have we really failed?
In my opinion, not one bit.
I can't remember being so proud to be a Canadian as I have during these games. I have chosen to cherish the good moments and ignore the disappointments. In a society where people tend to be judged on what they have succeeded to do, why do we focus more on the people who have failed to accomplish their goals?
Oh, we've had our fair share of disappointments. I won't deny you that. I could write a page on our failed attempts (self-induced, or otherwise): six skiers getting injured in the four months leading up to the Olympics, our speedskaters including one who stepped on something on the ice and didn't have time to repair her skates, Hollingsworth in skeleton, Paradis, etc. etc. etc.
But that's not the point. And it shouldn't be. It shouldn't matter nearly as much as something like tonight.
I've never watched ice dance in my life, and I probably won't until the next Olympics. But I was mesmerized by the flawless skating from our Canadian duo, Virtue and Muir. And when they finished, I had shivers going down my spine. When it was clear we were taking home the gold, I was glowing. And when the national anthem came on, I stood at attention to the laughter of others in the room, but I didn't care. These are the moments that define us.
This is the reason I watch the games. Not to watch the number of medals increase, not to se if we make our standard, but to see something beautiful, to see a Canadian perform and be rewarded for it.
For a lot of people I've talked to, it seems they care about three things: gold, silver, and bronze. But to me, Canadian athletes have done the three things that are so important to me as a Canadian:
They have competed with passion.
They have won with humility.
They have lost with dignity and pride intact.
People like to get upset and say things like "clearly they didn't do their best, they were expected to win and they came sixth".
But I can assure you that every single one of them has given it their all. You can see it in their faces as they compete, you can see it with their emotions when they win or lose.
And when they don't meet expectations, don't be harsh on them. We like to sit comfortably in our basement with snacks in hand, yelling at the underachievers.
But them, they've spent the past several years training for this exact day. Making sacrifices. Overcoming struggles. And for this, we should be proud. Because you can be sure that as upset as we can be with them for not winning for us, their disappointment is tenfold ours.
As the Olympics come to a close in a week or so, let's work on being positive. Let us be an encouragement to all of the athletes, regardless of outcome.
Let's not dwell on missed opportunities, but cherish the amazing moments we have been able to witness; the Virtue/Moirs, the Bilodeaus, and everytime you see a Canadian giving it their all.
We owe them that.
Be proud. Be loud.
Cheers.
But that's not what this post is about.
For me, there's been one resounding theme for these Olympics above anything else: disappointment.
Granted the people on TV have done a great job and have offered an amazing amount of support to our athletes.
But among us normal citizens, the watchers of the games, we have talked about nothing more than the disappointments during the Olympics.
And it tears me up.
Sure, canadians have expectations from these Olympics because we were told to. We were expected to have the most medals, and to win the most golds (very possible by the way). Fair enough. But if we win 20 medals as a country instead of 30, have we really failed?
In my opinion, not one bit.
I can't remember being so proud to be a Canadian as I have during these games. I have chosen to cherish the good moments and ignore the disappointments. In a society where people tend to be judged on what they have succeeded to do, why do we focus more on the people who have failed to accomplish their goals?
Oh, we've had our fair share of disappointments. I won't deny you that. I could write a page on our failed attempts (self-induced, or otherwise): six skiers getting injured in the four months leading up to the Olympics, our speedskaters including one who stepped on something on the ice and didn't have time to repair her skates, Hollingsworth in skeleton, Paradis, etc. etc. etc.
But that's not the point. And it shouldn't be. It shouldn't matter nearly as much as something like tonight.
I've never watched ice dance in my life, and I probably won't until the next Olympics. But I was mesmerized by the flawless skating from our Canadian duo, Virtue and Muir. And when they finished, I had shivers going down my spine. When it was clear we were taking home the gold, I was glowing. And when the national anthem came on, I stood at attention to the laughter of others in the room, but I didn't care. These are the moments that define us.
This is the reason I watch the games. Not to watch the number of medals increase, not to se if we make our standard, but to see something beautiful, to see a Canadian perform and be rewarded for it.
For a lot of people I've talked to, it seems they care about three things: gold, silver, and bronze. But to me, Canadian athletes have done the three things that are so important to me as a Canadian:
They have competed with passion.
They have won with humility.
They have lost with dignity and pride intact.
People like to get upset and say things like "clearly they didn't do their best, they were expected to win and they came sixth".
But I can assure you that every single one of them has given it their all. You can see it in their faces as they compete, you can see it with their emotions when they win or lose.
And when they don't meet expectations, don't be harsh on them. We like to sit comfortably in our basement with snacks in hand, yelling at the underachievers.
But them, they've spent the past several years training for this exact day. Making sacrifices. Overcoming struggles. And for this, we should be proud. Because you can be sure that as upset as we can be with them for not winning for us, their disappointment is tenfold ours.
As the Olympics come to a close in a week or so, let's work on being positive. Let us be an encouragement to all of the athletes, regardless of outcome.
Let's not dwell on missed opportunities, but cherish the amazing moments we have been able to witness; the Virtue/Moirs, the Bilodeaus, and everytime you see a Canadian giving it their all.
We owe them that.
Be proud. Be loud.
Cheers.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Zach's Guide to Running a Marathon
For many runners, completing a marathon is the ultimate goal. Once this is completed, you can say with confidence that you are part of that "elite" group, and this gives you the right to turn your nose up at other runners who don't exhibit the same amount of courage that you do.
Clearly I wanted to be part of this group. And two days ago, I joined it.
Here is my guide to any avid runners out there who have only dreamed of doing one. It is a little different than other guides out there, but I feel this is a guide that you can follow a bit more easily. It's time to make your dream a reality.
Step 1: Equipment
Shoes: Most guides will encourage you to go out and invest in a solid hundred and fifty dollar pair of shoes. But seriously, who has that kind of money these days?
My suggestion: Go into your basement and find a pair of runners that your uncle gave you two years ago because he didn't like them.
Clothing: Dryfit shirt, dryfit shorts, spandex underwear, non-cotton socks
My suggestion: A t-shirt your best friend brought back for you from Mexico in grade 7 with frogs on the front, and old pair of swim trunks, and your best pair of Christmas socks (red with reindeer design is generally the safest bet.)
Step 2: Training
In the majority of guides, you will be encouraged to start training a full year prior to race day. In case of a September marathon, this would mean starting in September of the year before. This isn't a good idea, because running is boring. Start thinking about starting to train in February or March. Don't actually get around to it until May or June. Others will try to give you a pretty strict schedule outlining when you should run, how far you should run, and how fast you should run. Be prepared to make time four or five times a week for this if you plan to follow this plan. For me, I don't have that kind of time. My solution: pick a Saturday morning every two or three weeks when you aren't up until three in the morning the night before, and go for a nice long run.
Once you get close to the day (maybe one month prior), start a new sport that has daily practices. This will allow you to be even busier and be way too tired to ever go on a long run. Yes, let's hear that sigh of relief. You are done with long runs. This means that for the last month of training, the only running you will be doing is whatever you happen to do in your leisure time.
Step 3: Preparing for race day
Start dreading race day about two or three weeks prior to race day. Tell yourself that it was a stupid idea, and that you haven't trained nearly enough, and your body, which gets injured enough on its own, will not be able to withstand the pressures of the race. Be grumpy all the time because you can't stand the idea of running for that period of time because it will be so completely boring. Basically just psyche yourself out until your confidence reaches a new low.
It's time to treat yourself. You've earned it with all this hardcore training. Buy yourself an overpriced pair of socks. There is one other thing you should buy. I can't stress what I am about to say enough. If you listen to nothing else, perk up your ears now. Seriously. Buy nipple guards.
Stop laughing. Your nipples are the most precious thing you own. Care for them. You may be an amateur on the subject of "nipple chaffage", but once you witness a man wearing a white shirt who looks like he was shot point blank smack dab on both nipples (imagine cookie-sized blood marks with blood trailing down to the bottom of the shirt), you will understand. I couldn't be more serious right now. It is literally the best purchase you will ever make in your entire life.
The night before your marathon, eat a giant plate of pasta with terrible free tomato sauce that makes you want to punch Aylmer in the nose while simultaneously smearing aforementioned sauce on the white walls.
Step 4: Race Day
4:30 am: It's wake up time. Preferably you went to bed around 11:30 so you got a fantastic five or so hours of sleep. Shower, eat, attempt to clear your bowels.
5:30 am: Make the trip to wherever you are running. Maybe grab a quick nappy-poo.
6:30 am: Arrive. Prep your mind, put on your shoes, get your iPod ready, etc. This is the time you should be deciding how fast you want to run your marathon. There will be "pace bunnies" at the starting line holding up signs with times on them. I suggest you pick a time that is way faster than is even remotely possible for you to finish in. This way, you can get really tired a quarter of the way in and not have as much energy for the rest of the race.
7:00 am: Go to start line, pretend to stretch to look cool. Try to find those really quick Kenyans and talk a bunch of smack to them about how you are going to cream them and they stand no chance (I was unsuccessful in completing this task).
7:30 am: Race begins
2km in: Remember how you tried to clear your bowels but couldn't? Well, your small intestine does, and at this point, it will remind you by giving you excruciating pain that makes you feel like you have a front appendix and it is about to explode. Don't worry, there are portapotties ahead. At the 8km mark. As in, keep running for a half hour while trying not to die.
8km: Portapotty. Use it. At this time, give up on following your pace bunny as he unfortunately will not be stopping for a bathroom break. What an inconsiderate rabbit.
At the first few water stations, take one water.
12km: Bump up liquid consumption to 1 water, and 1 gatorade.
13km: You hear many people talk about hitting a "wall", when their legs stop working, and they want nothing more than to quit now and be done with it. For most people, this happens around kilometre 30. Because of my superior training system, you will make it to the wall must faster.
15km: It is at this point when your knees should fail you, causing you to slow your pace even further.
21km: You've made it halfway! Not only do your knees ache, your muscles will start to spasm in places you didn't think imaginable. In places where you don't even have muscles. Confusion will ensue. Forget about running consistently. For the next 17k, you will be switching between running and walking as spasms occur.
25km: Congratulations! You can officially not move. Stumble to the sidelines and stretch it out. Start to feel even worse as 65 year old women with puffers run past you asking if you are alright. You've hit a new low. Look for a lady handing out pills out of a ziploc bag. Accept pills.
28km: The Advil has kicked in. Use this to your advantage and get some miles behind you. You should be taking double gatorades at each station by this point.
30km: Random friend time! An old friend who didn't know you were running this marathon will show up, boosting you spirits, and giving you fruit that you desperately need. They will join you for the next leg, running and walking with you, and will get cheered on by spectators despite the fact they are clearly not running, as they have a purse, no bib number, and are running in Crocs.
33km: Spirits are getting high! People are handing you random fruit all over the place. Since you've been walking a lot, and have sugar in your body, you have lots of energy, and are running like it's kilometre 1. People are impressed. I think the ladies are looking. Move on to three gatorades per station for the home stretch.
38km: 4 kilometres left. This is it. You are almost finished. Enough with the walking. You are going to run this one out.
40km: One more test of your will-power: take a wrong turn. Let's face it, you haven't faced enough today. You are getting delirious. You can no longer follow pylons. Go in the wrong direction with cars all around you until you turn around and see all the people you just passed running the other way.
42.2km: It's over. You've done it. You're exhausted, you're sore, but doggone it, you've finally made it. At this point, you can relax. That is, after the race officials make you walk another kilometre just to get water and food.
As this point, you will probably get lost. Where is the food? Why am I so cold? Why is no one directing me the right way? No worries. A helpful man will show up. PSYCHE! It's just a scientologist wanting to survey you about your mental health after the race. Answer a couple questions incoherently, and then excuse yourself because you are turning white and are about to faint. Ask science man where the food is. More like where the food was. Because it will all be gone. Marathon organizers seemingly only care about people who run quickly. So while there was juice, bananas, bagels, apples etc before, you are too slow, and do not deserve to eat. Aimlessly stumble around for another half hour till your running partner finishes. Then go get the best massage of your life. It's worth the extra 15 bucks.
Step 5: Aftermath
You've earned this. It's the best part. While your body is extremely sore, making it relatively impossible to climb stairs or stand up, your stomach is completely empty, and will continue to be no matter how much you eat. So just eat. And not the healthy stuff. Whatever you want. For a week or more. Get fat. Stop all exercise if possible. Start wearing sweatpants to school. Use "But I just ran a marathon!" as an excuse for anything and everything.
This has been my guide to running a marathon. If you follow my steps, your experience will be much more exciting. Instead of asking questions like "Will I be able to run it in less than 4 hours
?", and "When's the next marathon?", you will be asking questions like "Am I going to finish?", "How am I not dead yet?", and "Should I stop at Arby's sometime during the race?" I guarantee it.
I have done all I can. Now go. Spread your wings.
-Zach
Clearly I wanted to be part of this group. And two days ago, I joined it.
Here is my guide to any avid runners out there who have only dreamed of doing one. It is a little different than other guides out there, but I feel this is a guide that you can follow a bit more easily. It's time to make your dream a reality.
Step 1: Equipment
Shoes: Most guides will encourage you to go out and invest in a solid hundred and fifty dollar pair of shoes. But seriously, who has that kind of money these days?
My suggestion: Go into your basement and find a pair of runners that your uncle gave you two years ago because he didn't like them.
Clothing: Dryfit shirt, dryfit shorts, spandex underwear, non-cotton socks
My suggestion: A t-shirt your best friend brought back for you from Mexico in grade 7 with frogs on the front, and old pair of swim trunks, and your best pair of Christmas socks (red with reindeer design is generally the safest bet.)
Step 2: Training
In the majority of guides, you will be encouraged to start training a full year prior to race day. In case of a September marathon, this would mean starting in September of the year before. This isn't a good idea, because running is boring. Start thinking about starting to train in February or March. Don't actually get around to it until May or June. Others will try to give you a pretty strict schedule outlining when you should run, how far you should run, and how fast you should run. Be prepared to make time four or five times a week for this if you plan to follow this plan. For me, I don't have that kind of time. My solution: pick a Saturday morning every two or three weeks when you aren't up until three in the morning the night before, and go for a nice long run.
Once you get close to the day (maybe one month prior), start a new sport that has daily practices. This will allow you to be even busier and be way too tired to ever go on a long run. Yes, let's hear that sigh of relief. You are done with long runs. This means that for the last month of training, the only running you will be doing is whatever you happen to do in your leisure time.
Step 3: Preparing for race day
Start dreading race day about two or three weeks prior to race day. Tell yourself that it was a stupid idea, and that you haven't trained nearly enough, and your body, which gets injured enough on its own, will not be able to withstand the pressures of the race. Be grumpy all the time because you can't stand the idea of running for that period of time because it will be so completely boring. Basically just psyche yourself out until your confidence reaches a new low.
It's time to treat yourself. You've earned it with all this hardcore training. Buy yourself an overpriced pair of socks. There is one other thing you should buy. I can't stress what I am about to say enough. If you listen to nothing else, perk up your ears now. Seriously. Buy nipple guards.
Stop laughing. Your nipples are the most precious thing you own. Care for them. You may be an amateur on the subject of "nipple chaffage", but once you witness a man wearing a white shirt who looks like he was shot point blank smack dab on both nipples (imagine cookie-sized blood marks with blood trailing down to the bottom of the shirt), you will understand. I couldn't be more serious right now. It is literally the best purchase you will ever make in your entire life.
The night before your marathon, eat a giant plate of pasta with terrible free tomato sauce that makes you want to punch Aylmer in the nose while simultaneously smearing aforementioned sauce on the white walls.
Step 4: Race Day
4:30 am: It's wake up time. Preferably you went to bed around 11:30 so you got a fantastic five or so hours of sleep. Shower, eat, attempt to clear your bowels.
5:30 am: Make the trip to wherever you are running. Maybe grab a quick nappy-poo.
6:30 am: Arrive. Prep your mind, put on your shoes, get your iPod ready, etc. This is the time you should be deciding how fast you want to run your marathon. There will be "pace bunnies" at the starting line holding up signs with times on them. I suggest you pick a time that is way faster than is even remotely possible for you to finish in. This way, you can get really tired a quarter of the way in and not have as much energy for the rest of the race.
7:00 am: Go to start line, pretend to stretch to look cool. Try to find those really quick Kenyans and talk a bunch of smack to them about how you are going to cream them and they stand no chance (I was unsuccessful in completing this task).
7:30 am: Race begins
2km in: Remember how you tried to clear your bowels but couldn't? Well, your small intestine does, and at this point, it will remind you by giving you excruciating pain that makes you feel like you have a front appendix and it is about to explode. Don't worry, there are portapotties ahead. At the 8km mark. As in, keep running for a half hour while trying not to die.
8km: Portapotty. Use it. At this time, give up on following your pace bunny as he unfortunately will not be stopping for a bathroom break. What an inconsiderate rabbit.
At the first few water stations, take one water.
12km: Bump up liquid consumption to 1 water, and 1 gatorade.
13km: You hear many people talk about hitting a "wall", when their legs stop working, and they want nothing more than to quit now and be done with it. For most people, this happens around kilometre 30. Because of my superior training system, you will make it to the wall must faster.
15km: It is at this point when your knees should fail you, causing you to slow your pace even further.
21km: You've made it halfway! Not only do your knees ache, your muscles will start to spasm in places you didn't think imaginable. In places where you don't even have muscles. Confusion will ensue. Forget about running consistently. For the next 17k, you will be switching between running and walking as spasms occur.
25km: Congratulations! You can officially not move. Stumble to the sidelines and stretch it out. Start to feel even worse as 65 year old women with puffers run past you asking if you are alright. You've hit a new low. Look for a lady handing out pills out of a ziploc bag. Accept pills.
28km: The Advil has kicked in. Use this to your advantage and get some miles behind you. You should be taking double gatorades at each station by this point.
30km: Random friend time! An old friend who didn't know you were running this marathon will show up, boosting you spirits, and giving you fruit that you desperately need. They will join you for the next leg, running and walking with you, and will get cheered on by spectators despite the fact they are clearly not running, as they have a purse, no bib number, and are running in Crocs.
33km: Spirits are getting high! People are handing you random fruit all over the place. Since you've been walking a lot, and have sugar in your body, you have lots of energy, and are running like it's kilometre 1. People are impressed. I think the ladies are looking. Move on to three gatorades per station for the home stretch.
38km: 4 kilometres left. This is it. You are almost finished. Enough with the walking. You are going to run this one out.
40km: One more test of your will-power: take a wrong turn. Let's face it, you haven't faced enough today. You are getting delirious. You can no longer follow pylons. Go in the wrong direction with cars all around you until you turn around and see all the people you just passed running the other way.
42.2km: It's over. You've done it. You're exhausted, you're sore, but doggone it, you've finally made it. At this point, you can relax. That is, after the race officials make you walk another kilometre just to get water and food.
As this point, you will probably get lost. Where is the food? Why am I so cold? Why is no one directing me the right way? No worries. A helpful man will show up. PSYCHE! It's just a scientologist wanting to survey you about your mental health after the race. Answer a couple questions incoherently, and then excuse yourself because you are turning white and are about to faint. Ask science man where the food is. More like where the food was. Because it will all be gone. Marathon organizers seemingly only care about people who run quickly. So while there was juice, bananas, bagels, apples etc before, you are too slow, and do not deserve to eat. Aimlessly stumble around for another half hour till your running partner finishes. Then go get the best massage of your life. It's worth the extra 15 bucks.
Step 5: Aftermath
You've earned this. It's the best part. While your body is extremely sore, making it relatively impossible to climb stairs or stand up, your stomach is completely empty, and will continue to be no matter how much you eat. So just eat. And not the healthy stuff. Whatever you want. For a week or more. Get fat. Stop all exercise if possible. Start wearing sweatpants to school. Use "But I just ran a marathon!" as an excuse for anything and everything.
This has been my guide to running a marathon. If you follow my steps, your experience will be much more exciting. Instead of asking questions like "Will I be able to run it in less than 4 hours
?", and "When's the next marathon?", you will be asking questions like "Am I going to finish?", "How am I not dead yet?", and "Should I stop at Arby's sometime during the race?" I guarantee it.
I have done all I can. Now go. Spread your wings.
-Zach
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Zach's Top 10 for the Day.
I like my job. I really do. Elderly people are generally nice people and they have great stories, and contrary to popular belief, are with it more than we think.
But, when your job in the morning is to pour tea and coffee for more than a hundred sleepy, grumpy, sometimes dentureless residents, things start to tick you off.
Without further ado,
The top 10 things that piss Zach off when he is pouring tea and coffee:
10. Questioning what kind of coffee I am pouring for them.
- I know what kind of coffee you drink, I pour it for you every single day. You don't need to tell me you drink decaf, and you don't need to stop me mid-pour to ensure that I am pouring decaf coffee. I know.
9. Ordering food from me when it is quite obvious I am not your server.
- When I first switched over from serving breakfast to pouring coffee, there was one troublemaker who didn't seem to get the concept that I would not be serving her breakfast anymore. She would return meal after meal, and would call me over and ask me to make the egg for her. First of all, I am not the chef, I do not make the egg (although I make a mean over-easy, I'll make one for you sometime). I told her this. Secondly, the egg was exactly the same as when I was serving it. It got to the point where I could take the egg she returned, walk around the kitchen with it for a minute or so, bring it back out with the egg shifted slightly, and all of the sudden, all-star breakfast server Zach had come to the rescue.
When I ask you if you would like tea or coffee, an appropriate response is NOT "I'll have two fried eggs and a piece of brown toast."
8. Getting my attention rudely.
- There are many ways to get my attention. Call my name if I am within appropriate distance (I am walking all over the dining room all the time, so this isn't a challenge), wave at me if I am looking at you (I constantly look around the dining room for this reason). Do not snap your fingers at me. Do not yell my name from across the dining room. It is rude. Do not stick your index finger in the air and "summon" me to your table. And finally, saying "thank you" in a non-thanking way as I walk by is not an appropriate way to get me to stop and top off your tea.
7. Asking for coffee before you are sitting down.
- As you are walking to the dining room, there are sometime dozens of people who have been waiting for coffee patiently. I am going to serve them first. Don't try to get me to pour your coffee for you when you are fifteen feet away from the table. You can't drink it from there.
6. Asking for "Hot" Coffee.
- Yes, the coffee is hot. I'm not working out of the back of a Starbucks truck. We don't serve that iced stuff. I know that the coffee should be hot. I'm smart like that.
5. Getting mad when you are not served within thirty seconds of sitting down.
- There are more than one hundred people in the dining room, all arriving within a thirty-minute period. Do the math. I'm not Spiderman. I can't shoot coffee out of my fingers into your cup four tables away. If I could, I'd pull a Dane Cook, and I'd say "Here's your coffee, you're very rude."
4. Telling me to come back later then asking for it almost immediately.
- My time isn't valuable at all in the morning. I got plenty to throw around.
False.
I do my best to time it so that if you are one of the people who has to have their coffee at a very exact part of the meal, I will try to time it so that your needs will be fulfilled. However, if you like your coffee when you are done your cereal, and I come over and there is three cheerios left floating in your bowl, for pete's sake, take the coffee. Please do not say "come back later" and then call me back just as I am returning the coffee. It wouldn't kill you to have just a little consideration for others.
3. Asking for the other size of cup.
- Way back when, we had two types of cups. Dining room cups, for the dining room, and cafe mugs, for the cafe. Since then, dishes have been broken or gone missing, and we are now forced to put half and half in the dining room. If you got a small cup and you wanted a mug, deal with it. I'll make two trips to your table if I know you need more coffee. Or, if you are that desperate to get a bigger or smaller cup, go trade with someone else. I don't have time for this.
2. Calling me over for an inch of coffee.
- Science. It's a beautiful thing. Let me explain something that should seem obvious to a common person but doesn't seem to make sense to the elderly. Adding one inch of coffee to an almost full cup of cold coffee will NOT make your coffee boiling hot. I'm sorry, that's the way things are. It's science. Don't get upset when it is still cold after me pouring that inch, because then I get even angrier than I was for having to walk across the whole dining room to pour a single inch of coffee in the first place.
The long-awaited number one.
1. Don't tell me it's cold.
- Because it wasn't when I poured it. Let me tell you a little something about our machines. The receptacles where the hot water comes out heats the water to 190 degrees Fahrenheit - a measly ten degree below actual boiling water. Believe me, I've burned myself quite a few times. It's hot. If you decided to eat your whole meal and then drink your coffee, yes it is going to be cold. Don't be freaked out by this - it's natural. And again, it's science. Don't ask me to bring you a new cup because it's cold. It's cold because you didn't drink it. It's cold because the only way to keep the water at that temperature is to have the room maintain that temperature, and that would be more than a little painful.
There you have it. I hope you enjoyed my sarcastic rant.
But, when your job in the morning is to pour tea and coffee for more than a hundred sleepy, grumpy, sometimes dentureless residents, things start to tick you off.
Without further ado,
The top 10 things that piss Zach off when he is pouring tea and coffee:
10. Questioning what kind of coffee I am pouring for them.
- I know what kind of coffee you drink, I pour it for you every single day. You don't need to tell me you drink decaf, and you don't need to stop me mid-pour to ensure that I am pouring decaf coffee. I know.
9. Ordering food from me when it is quite obvious I am not your server.
- When I first switched over from serving breakfast to pouring coffee, there was one troublemaker who didn't seem to get the concept that I would not be serving her breakfast anymore. She would return meal after meal, and would call me over and ask me to make the egg for her. First of all, I am not the chef, I do not make the egg (although I make a mean over-easy, I'll make one for you sometime). I told her this. Secondly, the egg was exactly the same as when I was serving it. It got to the point where I could take the egg she returned, walk around the kitchen with it for a minute or so, bring it back out with the egg shifted slightly, and all of the sudden, all-star breakfast server Zach had come to the rescue.
When I ask you if you would like tea or coffee, an appropriate response is NOT "I'll have two fried eggs and a piece of brown toast."
8. Getting my attention rudely.
- There are many ways to get my attention. Call my name if I am within appropriate distance (I am walking all over the dining room all the time, so this isn't a challenge), wave at me if I am looking at you (I constantly look around the dining room for this reason). Do not snap your fingers at me. Do not yell my name from across the dining room. It is rude. Do not stick your index finger in the air and "summon" me to your table. And finally, saying "thank you" in a non-thanking way as I walk by is not an appropriate way to get me to stop and top off your tea.
7. Asking for coffee before you are sitting down.
- As you are walking to the dining room, there are sometime dozens of people who have been waiting for coffee patiently. I am going to serve them first. Don't try to get me to pour your coffee for you when you are fifteen feet away from the table. You can't drink it from there.
6. Asking for "Hot" Coffee.
- Yes, the coffee is hot. I'm not working out of the back of a Starbucks truck. We don't serve that iced stuff. I know that the coffee should be hot. I'm smart like that.
5. Getting mad when you are not served within thirty seconds of sitting down.
- There are more than one hundred people in the dining room, all arriving within a thirty-minute period. Do the math. I'm not Spiderman. I can't shoot coffee out of my fingers into your cup four tables away. If I could, I'd pull a Dane Cook, and I'd say "Here's your coffee, you're very rude."
4. Telling me to come back later then asking for it almost immediately.
- My time isn't valuable at all in the morning. I got plenty to throw around.
False.
I do my best to time it so that if you are one of the people who has to have their coffee at a very exact part of the meal, I will try to time it so that your needs will be fulfilled. However, if you like your coffee when you are done your cereal, and I come over and there is three cheerios left floating in your bowl, for pete's sake, take the coffee. Please do not say "come back later" and then call me back just as I am returning the coffee. It wouldn't kill you to have just a little consideration for others.
3. Asking for the other size of cup.
- Way back when, we had two types of cups. Dining room cups, for the dining room, and cafe mugs, for the cafe. Since then, dishes have been broken or gone missing, and we are now forced to put half and half in the dining room. If you got a small cup and you wanted a mug, deal with it. I'll make two trips to your table if I know you need more coffee. Or, if you are that desperate to get a bigger or smaller cup, go trade with someone else. I don't have time for this.
2. Calling me over for an inch of coffee.
- Science. It's a beautiful thing. Let me explain something that should seem obvious to a common person but doesn't seem to make sense to the elderly. Adding one inch of coffee to an almost full cup of cold coffee will NOT make your coffee boiling hot. I'm sorry, that's the way things are. It's science. Don't get upset when it is still cold after me pouring that inch, because then I get even angrier than I was for having to walk across the whole dining room to pour a single inch of coffee in the first place.
The long-awaited number one.
1. Don't tell me it's cold.
- Because it wasn't when I poured it. Let me tell you a little something about our machines. The receptacles where the hot water comes out heats the water to 190 degrees Fahrenheit - a measly ten degree below actual boiling water. Believe me, I've burned myself quite a few times. It's hot. If you decided to eat your whole meal and then drink your coffee, yes it is going to be cold. Don't be freaked out by this - it's natural. And again, it's science. Don't ask me to bring you a new cup because it's cold. It's cold because you didn't drink it. It's cold because the only way to keep the water at that temperature is to have the room maintain that temperature, and that would be more than a little painful.
There you have it. I hope you enjoyed my sarcastic rant.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Are the Elderly Really So Out of Touch?
We all know how it goes.
We all laugh at them.
"What's that thing hanging out of that girl's nose?"
"When I was a child, we wouldn't dare say something like that"
"Music these days sounds like fingers on a chalkboard."
I assume it's been happening for generations really. What I am talking about in case you are confused is how out of touch with youth that old people seem to be.
Many of them don't have the internet. They got their first telephone when they were 25, and their first TV when they were 45. They don't get our music, the clothes we wear, the way we talk.
I am going to just throw this out there. I think I and many others are the same way.
I recently turned nineteen, I should really be in the centre of this. Crazy piercings, blue hair, weird music, but I don't seem to be, and I don't GET it.
I was at a concert the other week with 18000 other people. I got the chance to see some interesting people.
They are so interesting with their weird piercings, tattooed faces, and odd mismatching costumes that scream for attention but the second you look them, they return a look that resembles "You just kicked my dog." I don't GET it. If I want nobody to notice me, I'll dress in plain colors and try to look like everyone else. No one is going to look at me twice if I don't have a 6 inch disc in my ear, or a ring attached to my eyeball.
I turn on my radio sometimes, and think I've turned it to a static-filled no air station when I realize that that is a real song, and a band wrote and composed that song, and that people enjoy listening to that song, and that that band makes a living producing that song. I don't GET it.
You walk by a bunch of kids, and besides a couple articles thrown in here and there, as well as some swears you've heard, you don't understand what they are talking about whatsoever. All of a sudden, sick is amazing, fat is cool, and wicked is what we're all aiming for. And tomorrow, no one will say those words, and then I'll have to learn new words. The English language has changed completely. And I don't GET it.
Even technology, where a guy like me should be king, I see things coming out that are so odd and look terribly confusing that I don't even bother trying to figure out what it's meant to do, because I'm fine with what I've got, and even if I bought one, I just wouldn't GET it.
So there you have it. Old people, while they are hopelessly out of touch, can you really blame them. I certainly can't, because I'm just the same as they are.
We all laugh at them.
"What's that thing hanging out of that girl's nose?"
"When I was a child, we wouldn't dare say something like that"
"Music these days sounds like fingers on a chalkboard."
I assume it's been happening for generations really. What I am talking about in case you are confused is how out of touch with youth that old people seem to be.
Many of them don't have the internet. They got their first telephone when they were 25, and their first TV when they were 45. They don't get our music, the clothes we wear, the way we talk.
I am going to just throw this out there. I think I and many others are the same way.
I recently turned nineteen, I should really be in the centre of this. Crazy piercings, blue hair, weird music, but I don't seem to be, and I don't GET it.
I was at a concert the other week with 18000 other people. I got the chance to see some interesting people.
They are so interesting with their weird piercings, tattooed faces, and odd mismatching costumes that scream for attention but the second you look them, they return a look that resembles "You just kicked my dog." I don't GET it. If I want nobody to notice me, I'll dress in plain colors and try to look like everyone else. No one is going to look at me twice if I don't have a 6 inch disc in my ear, or a ring attached to my eyeball.
I turn on my radio sometimes, and think I've turned it to a static-filled no air station when I realize that that is a real song, and a band wrote and composed that song, and that people enjoy listening to that song, and that that band makes a living producing that song. I don't GET it.
You walk by a bunch of kids, and besides a couple articles thrown in here and there, as well as some swears you've heard, you don't understand what they are talking about whatsoever. All of a sudden, sick is amazing, fat is cool, and wicked is what we're all aiming for. And tomorrow, no one will say those words, and then I'll have to learn new words. The English language has changed completely. And I don't GET it.
Even technology, where a guy like me should be king, I see things coming out that are so odd and look terribly confusing that I don't even bother trying to figure out what it's meant to do, because I'm fine with what I've got, and even if I bought one, I just wouldn't GET it.
So there you have it. Old people, while they are hopelessly out of touch, can you really blame them. I certainly can't, because I'm just the same as they are.
Friday, May 16, 2008
Mother's Day
Yes, I know it was last week, but I've been really busy.
Anyways, 'Mother's Day'. If you remember at all a post I made about three months ago, you'll recall I talked about celebrating Valentine's Day without a girl. Well, Mother's Day has come and gone, and I spent mine without a mother.
For those of you who don't know, my mother is currently travelling in Italy, and she is on week four of six I'm pretty sure. I could be wrong, my mind has been so wraught with distress over the situation I don't know which side is up anymore.
My mother chose an interesting time to leave the country. She missed Mother's Day, which is the only day is our household besides July 22nd (that being her birthday) we show our respect to her and we make it count, because spreading 2 packets of strawberry jam over 365 pieces of bread is as hard as it sounds. She missed us making her a satisfactory breakfast which she could have made for herself a lot faster. She missed that terrible cup of coffee when we put two portions of coffee for one portion of water. She missed those fantastic presents that have no inspiration usually and are just picked from a list such as a set of giant orange porch chairs which she has used twice. (Although, to be fair, one year I bought her a rose bush to plant in the backyard to be creative, but I'm pretty sure it's smaller than when I bought it, and hasn't produced a single flower.) She missed that very special lunch that you always take your mother to, usually a very classy place like Swiss Chalet where you wait for a table for six and a half hours because every son in the world is taking their mother to Swiss Chalet. You cover the bill, and she pretends she is so appreciative, but she really doesn't care, because on any other day, Dad would cover the bill. She missed hanging with her children who would much rather be hanging with their friends playing golf but wouldn't dare say anything.
She missed a lot. I'd like to think she has her own little Mother's Day in Italy, although I'm not sure they have a Mother's Day. They don't need one. Every day is Mother's Day over there, just as it should be. A mother missing Mother's Day is strange, and similar to Wiarton Willy deciding to go to Guatemala on Groundhog Day.
To make up for this missed opportunity, she found another way to make up for it. Orginially, this trip was only meant to last one month, bringing her back here sometime next week. Conveniently, this was changed to six weeks, and conveniently, this causes her to not be home by the 26th, her "baby's" 19th birthday. Yes, that's right. I am turning 19 motherless. Bad things are bound to happen. If you expect to feel better by doing this, you are wrong Susan. I have decided that instead of moping around on my birthday being sad that my own mother doesn't feel it necessary to be around for it, I am going to use that energy to make my birthday that much more enjoyable. So there mom. Enjoy your gelato, enjoy your sauve-talking gentlemen and your sculptures of David. I'll find something better to do.
As I got off easy this year with not having to spend Mother's Day with my mother, I feel it necessary to do something for her to make up for it, if just a little bit. So I am writing a poem, if you can even call it that. Enjoy.
Mom, you make my world go round.
Mom, if I got lost, you'd have me found.
After sarcasm, and being ignored,
You respond, "I love you Son."
After laziness and disobedience,
You smile, "I love you still."
After a phone call in the middle of the night,
and a desperate "I love you" to smooth the situation,
You whisper, "I love you more, sleep tight"
Forced hugs, and awkward kisses.
Rolled eyes, and one-way conversations.
Through it all, you overcome what must be frustration.
You proclaim your affection on every occasion.
I feel it today, even from a different nation.
Oh mom, you really, really deserve this vacation.
I love you Mom.
I love you still.
I love you more, sleep tight.
Kiss kiss.
Anyways, 'Mother's Day'. If you remember at all a post I made about three months ago, you'll recall I talked about celebrating Valentine's Day without a girl. Well, Mother's Day has come and gone, and I spent mine without a mother.
For those of you who don't know, my mother is currently travelling in Italy, and she is on week four of six I'm pretty sure. I could be wrong, my mind has been so wraught with distress over the situation I don't know which side is up anymore.
My mother chose an interesting time to leave the country. She missed Mother's Day, which is the only day is our household besides July 22nd (that being her birthday) we show our respect to her and we make it count, because spreading 2 packets of strawberry jam over 365 pieces of bread is as hard as it sounds. She missed us making her a satisfactory breakfast which she could have made for herself a lot faster. She missed that terrible cup of coffee when we put two portions of coffee for one portion of water. She missed those fantastic presents that have no inspiration usually and are just picked from a list such as a set of giant orange porch chairs which she has used twice. (Although, to be fair, one year I bought her a rose bush to plant in the backyard to be creative, but I'm pretty sure it's smaller than when I bought it, and hasn't produced a single flower.) She missed that very special lunch that you always take your mother to, usually a very classy place like Swiss Chalet where you wait for a table for six and a half hours because every son in the world is taking their mother to Swiss Chalet. You cover the bill, and she pretends she is so appreciative, but she really doesn't care, because on any other day, Dad would cover the bill. She missed hanging with her children who would much rather be hanging with their friends playing golf but wouldn't dare say anything.
She missed a lot. I'd like to think she has her own little Mother's Day in Italy, although I'm not sure they have a Mother's Day. They don't need one. Every day is Mother's Day over there, just as it should be. A mother missing Mother's Day is strange, and similar to Wiarton Willy deciding to go to Guatemala on Groundhog Day.
To make up for this missed opportunity, she found another way to make up for it. Orginially, this trip was only meant to last one month, bringing her back here sometime next week. Conveniently, this was changed to six weeks, and conveniently, this causes her to not be home by the 26th, her "baby's" 19th birthday. Yes, that's right. I am turning 19 motherless. Bad things are bound to happen. If you expect to feel better by doing this, you are wrong Susan. I have decided that instead of moping around on my birthday being sad that my own mother doesn't feel it necessary to be around for it, I am going to use that energy to make my birthday that much more enjoyable. So there mom. Enjoy your gelato, enjoy your sauve-talking gentlemen and your sculptures of David. I'll find something better to do.
As I got off easy this year with not having to spend Mother's Day with my mother, I feel it necessary to do something for her to make up for it, if just a little bit. So I am writing a poem, if you can even call it that. Enjoy.
Mom, you make my world go round.
Mom, if I got lost, you'd have me found.
After sarcasm, and being ignored,
You respond, "I love you Son."
After laziness and disobedience,
You smile, "I love you still."
After a phone call in the middle of the night,
and a desperate "I love you" to smooth the situation,
You whisper, "I love you more, sleep tight"
Forced hugs, and awkward kisses.
Rolled eyes, and one-way conversations.
Through it all, you overcome what must be frustration.
You proclaim your affection on every occasion.
I feel it today, even from a different nation.
Oh mom, you really, really deserve this vacation.
I love you Mom.
I love you still.
I love you more, sleep tight.
Kiss kiss.
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