Planning to not do anything. At all.

Sometimes, and I do mean sometimes, I am a good planner.  I tend to work off of lists and schedules and often routines.  Other time, I am a really last minute kind of guy.  Most times I fall somewhere in the middle, probably like most people in the world.

Planning takes takes a lot of effort.  I feel like I want to explore the idea of planning just a little, as it really should help demonstrate why it is I typically don't fall into the category of a "plan ahead" kind of fellow.

A number of years ago I came into possession of a Franklin Day Planner.  At the time this type of thing was the norm.  Many people in this day and age when technology has become so commonplace in our daily lives probably have no clue what a Franklin even is.

Scientific Statistical Data Means Nothing to Me.

Habits (no, not Hobbits; that's an entirely different thing) feel like they can take an eternity to form and what seems like a millisecond to break.  There are quite a few different opinions on how habits are formed and broken, and how long it takes to do either.  

Google and Wikipedia, which have entirely replaced the Encyclopedia Britannica, gives a number of references which all point to the following time lines for making and breaking a habit:

1. To make a habit it apparently takes an average 66 days.  
2. To Break a habit it takes only 21 days.  

I'm going to refute both of these numbers as preposterous and completely flawed.   I'm pretty sure there is some fellow in a lab coat who makes way to much money and believes himself to be intellectually superior to the gaggle of interns he oversees that has come up with these numbers.  And they all have various degrees and levels of education, and they think to study the brain and its infinite workings.  

Nice Arc on that Cherry Pie, Dude

So there I was, making a quick trip to the ATM. 

As I am returning from said trip There is a fellow with some obvious issues headed down the sidewalk toward me.  What kind of issues?  Mental health?  Drug induced?  Hard to tell.  Possibly a combo of both?  Not to far a stretch.  He is working the winter-ish coat and pajama pants on a chilly December morning.  Any way, As he is walking toward me he is rambling something, I have no idea what.  And then it happens.  

He lobs a cherry pie at me.  It was an underhand toss, and had a good arc to it.  I just watched it happen.  That's all I could do.  

I feel like I should make it clear this was not a pie in the sense of "Mom's made a pie for the holiday and its cooling on the window sill".  This is of the store bought, crappy little snack pastry pie.  I present to you the projectile in question.

To morning run, or no to? This is the question.

I have a dilemma.  

Morning run.... or night run?  

Given my schedule, between work and Miss Z, my day is typically taken up between 0700 and 2000 hours (roughly; we could give or take an hour on each side from time to time).  

My problem here isn't the time available to run, but the motivation to do so.  Yes, its a pastime for me.  Its more than that, really.  There is a crazy sense of achievement that is gained from a benchmark distance, or a PR time for any given run.  But even more than that, there is simply the enjoyment of going, and the satisfaction of completing a run.  

Motivation is a key factor.  Not desire.  Desire is always there.  Motivation comes and goes like the tides influence by the moon.  Some days its high, some days its low.  And the time of day typically has a lot to do with this.  

The dishes won't do themselves (or... How I lost and Sink won).

The key to consistency is... well, being consistent.  

Consistency can be defined in a few different ways.  

In the culinary world, consistency is the difference between something that might be runny,  perfectly light and airy, or as dense as a cinder block. Since I am not a baker, and I barely consider myself a cook, I will for the moment refrain from using culinary metaphors.

In other areas of life, consistency takes a different form.  In theory, consistency can lead to habits.  These can be good or bad.  An example of the good:  Doing daily maintenance on the litter box has obvious and noticeable positive effects.  And being consistent in this leads to one of the better habits a person could (and typically a happier feline).  An example of the bad:  Ignoring the little box for days on end, despite the best intentions of daily cleaning.  Again, the results are obvious and noticeable.  And make for a foul smell and an unhappy feline. 

Ferdinand the Bull in the Thrift Store of My Mind

Thrift stores.  Purveyors of paisley ties and second hand china.  Catering to the masses in search of a dirt cheap leisure suit or that an epic find of curious knickknacks considered trash by the one who relinquished it and a treasure of immeasurable wealth by the one who found it.  

It is also the metaphor I'll be using for the thrift store that is my mind.  

Lets take just a moment inventory a thrift store and its contents.  

One could reasonably expect to find a thrift store filled with books, kitchen stuff, kids toys, antiquated electronics, clothes, and various other sundries.  Each particular item having its place, yet each particular place has some spill over from one to the next.  Such is the state of my mind, I feel.  Various collections of thoughts, memories, and emotions, each with their own place, yet each inextricably connected to other.

Paying Homage to Pastimes (Part 1 of....)

I need a pastime. 

This is no joke. However, I find it to be a little of a misleading statement.  Lets be honest, I have plenty of pastimes.  I just want more. I feel like I will be reviewing these pastimes in a little more depth over the course of a few posts, so lets start with the easy one:

Running

I have enjoyed the sport of running off and on for a number of years.  I never really considered myself a "runner".  Maybe a jogger?  Maybe.  Even that was a bit of a stretch in my own mind.   Running was hit or miss for me.  At the age of 12 I was told running a marathon was never going to be something I would do.  and I spent the better portion of the next 3 decades believing this and allowing it to affect my level of activity in this sport.  

However, about 2 years ago I was told the only thing limiting myself was my own limitations I had placed.  This sort of motivational slogan can be found on any number of touchy-feely,