Tattooed - W00t!

I got my first tattoo yesterday from Jen over at Body Graphics. She was awesome - the whole thing took just about an hour, and I didn't feel a thing. It's on the outside of my left shoulder, here it is:

That's a from the picture that they took of me to put in the Guiness Book of World Records for the "whitest man alive" award, FYI.

I'm already thinking about my next few tattoos - I think the next one is going to be a dragon in the shape of an "S" on my right forearm. Either that or a tomoe (maybe wrapped in a tribal sun) on my right shoulder to balance out the yin yang on my left.

Hi, My Name is SKYY

I'm toying with the idea of legally changing my name to "Skyy". The other night I was out at a bar, and twice when I introduced myself the person I was talking to thought I said my name was "Skyy". The last time that happened was during a rare legalified outdoor drinking binge in Boston (during the Marathon), probably back in 1992. I met a dude on Newbury Street, and he was convinced, no matter how many times I repeated my name, that I was saying "Skyy", so that's what he called me the rest of the afternoon. I had been trying to come up with a DJ name at the time, and that seemed like a sign so it stuck (I later changed it to "Pscy" - same pronunciation, because there was another DJ in town who's actual name was "Skyy").

I have to wonder if the other night's misunderstandings were another sign. Being older, wiser, and therefore more stuck in my ways, it takes a more significant coincidence to stick out as a sign to me than it did back then, and two people in one night definitely does the trick.

And why not, really? I just got my first tattoo, which is something that really changes your perspective on the permanence of your body. Every day we don't die is a postponement of the inevitable, so why spend it with a name that someone else gave you before any part of your personality was developed? A name should be more meaningful that a choice of body art, yet we all are stuck with the names we were given by our parents.

Something to think about, anyway. Maybe it'll stop people from calling me "Steve".

Don't Worry Mom, Be Happy!

Let's talk about my mom for a minute. This is a perfectly safe thing to do in this venue because she refuses to own an answering machine let alone a computer, so she'll never read this. So I was talking to her today and she told me that she was worried about me because I hadn't returned her call yesterday (until today). Then she told me that she worries about me when I ride my motorcycle because it's so dangerous. I love my mom, but what does all that worrying really accomplish beside adding stress to her life? The real question here is who's responsible for this worry? Is it me? Should I not ride my bikes because it stresses my mom out? Should I make every effort to return every one of her calls within a reasonable time because of the problems it will cause if I don't?

I'm going to go ahead and say a definitive "No" to the first option, and toss out a tentative "Probably" to the second. The question here pertains to the amount for which we are responsible for the happiness (or conversely: stress levels) of those around us. One could argue that of all the people in the world that you love, your mother is the one you are most obligated to. But, I would always put myself on the top of any list (chances are no matter how much other people love you, you're not going to top anyone else's list), so I'm not going to stop riding my motorcycles just because it stresses my mom out (in her defense she never once asked me to not ride or made me feel bad for riding - not directly anyway), because riding actually lowers my stress levels. I can suck it up and make an effort to return her calls more promptly, however, because that doesn't alter who I am (except for the better).

I digress. What I wanted to talk about is "worry" itself. Why do we worry? The human mind is conditioned from generations of survival to identify and dissect potential risks. Technically, this is worrying - the act of thinking about something bad happening; something that has not yet happened but is technically possible (some people worry about things that are impossible or at best very unlikely, but that's a whole other story). What distinguishes "worry" from "strategizing", however, is the ability of the person obsessing about the bad thing to actually do something about said bad thing. My mom can't protect me from riding into a Mack truck on my bikes, so logically it's pointless for her to worry about it. I'm either going to ride until I'm an old man without incident, or die horribly in a flaming wreck on the highway somewhere. She can't control either event, no matter how much she thinks about it. Thus, it would make more sense for her not to even think about it until something does happen, and THEN be upset.

OK, here's another digression (hence the italics): if this happens (my death by motorcycle accident), then I want to take this opportunity to make it clear that I died doing something I love - and I REALLY don't want anyone to pine for the life I could have had - it's been a full and glorious one thus far. Sure, I still have things left on my "list of things to do before I die", but they are all fluff to be honest. I've done all of the basic things that were important to me, and with only a few unfortunate digressions along the way, have really followed my dreams for the most part.

Back to worrying. I have plenty of things to worry about that are under my control to prevent or make happen. In fact, I tend to obsess about things that worry me until I either a) come up with a solution that I can live with that minimizes the chance of them happending, or b) decide that I am mostly powerless to stop them from happening and stop worrying about them. Sometimes I get stuck in some weird limbo between the two until one or the other forces its way to the top (usually this is related to medical problems), but this is a really uncomfortable place to be. Why then, do people worry about the things they can't control?

Maybe it's because it keeps them from thinking about the things that they can control, because worrying about those things means that they will have to make a decision much like the one I described, and that's a lot of responsibility. I stopped watching the news a few years ago because it was causing much stress in my life and the source of the stress was all from things I have no control over (I vote, but that hasn't done anyone much good the last few times). I have never been happier, and I have no idea what's going on the world (except what I glean from an occasional Daily Show here and there), and it's awesome.

But I seem to be the exception to the rule. most people I meet tend to love following the news, and the more depressing it is, the better. Some people even like watching the local news, which is, to be sure, an extreme form of mental self-flagellation. What then, is the general public's obsession with talking about generally awful things that happen to other people?

Ah, and there is it. The bad things are happening to other people, which make our own lives seem better by comparison. So to recap, we worry about bad things happening to those we love even though we can't prevent them from happening, and we go out of our way to hear stories about bad things happening to people we don't know because it makes us feel better about the bad things that aren't happening to the people we love.

Unfortunately, the two fuel each other. The things we hear about on the news give us pause to worry about them happening to people we love, which makes us want to hear more about bad things happening to people we don't know.

So, mom, it's like this. I'm going to be just fine riding my motorcycle and going through my daily life, until I'm not, at which point you'll have plenty to worry about that will distract you from the things you really should be worrying about. In the meantime, you've got a nasty election coming up that should keep you occupied for the next year, so at least you've got that going for you...

Rachel McAdams

I just watched Red Eye. Rachel McAdams is my new girlfriend. That is all.

I do not recommend the movie, however.

House of Coasters

I was hanging out tonight at Flatbread Pizza, and since it was really slow there I was able to talk the staff into building a house of coasters. One of the waitresses and Wes started building two houses next to each other, and after she gave up 3 stories in (I guess there were other customers or something rude like that) he continued and connected the two. Before anyone knew it, it was 9 stories tall:

The dude standing next to it works there and is in the shot for perspective: he's 6' 2".

I'm here to tell you, building houses of beer coasters is not as easy as it might look. I couldn't get past a single story structure - it takes plenty of spare time and nerves of steel.

Good times and great conversation at the Flatbread, as usual - I picked up a few new destinations for my bike trips for next year from both Wes and a couple I was talking to at the bar. Otter Creek in Middlebury, VT (it was on the way to Burlington on Rte 7 this past fall and I didn't even know it) and BBC in South Deerfield Massachusetts. I might as well round it out and make sure I hit Harpoon in Boston for Octoberfest, which is on my list of "things to do before I die". So next year is the "Year of Breweries"!

Late Night Musings

I'm going to go ahead and publically say two things that I never thought I would admit out loud. First, Rock Band is a ridiculously good game, and tons of fun. Sure, it's borderline karaoke, but it's the most fun I've had in a group in a long time, and unbelievably addictive. Second, the recent Apple commercials are filled with some really good points. Get on the ball, Microsoft.

Back on the diet and excersise tomorrow - took a few days off to celebrate the holidays with friends and co-workers. Good times were had by all, but those good times are over and it's time to get back in the game, Butchie. Night all!