Category Archives: 100 Days

5.

Saturday. Losing enthusiasm for this blog attempt. Losing enthusiasm for trying to make a difference in my life. Losing enthusiasm for waking up in the mornings. Losing enthusiasm for breathing.

Worked on documents and photos for listing the house for sale.

1.

Okay, one more heave, as Jeremy Thorpe used to say. One more attempt at making “big changes” over the course of 100 days.

A list will be forthcoming.

Highlight of today… and actually, it’s what inspired me to keep going here: I GOT AN EMAIL FROM NATSU! A long, chatty email, even!

Oh, and, in case you didn’t know, it’s Ankylosaur Week:

 


Ankylosaur Week 2015: The Dawn of Cerealization
Ankylosaur Week 2015: The Dawn of Cerealization
 

Ankylosar Week 2015: Oak Island – Yet Another Theory
Ankylosaur Week 2015: Oak Island – Yet Another Theory

DAY C

Day 100… already? But… I’m not done yet! I haven’t achieved my objectives! In fact, I’ve hardly started working toward most of my objectives!

I’m not very good at this 100 Days plan stuff.

I’m not very good at stuff, period.

DAY XCIX

“You might say clutter is a way of avoiding life.” – Don Aslett in How To Lose 200 Pounds This Weekend (©2000), another decluttering book, and definitely one of the best there is! Every so many pages I found myself getting up off the sofa to work through another box of stuff. I tossed out things I’ve been lugging around for years… decades… even that I’ve had since I was a little kid! The Korn’s Bakery wrapping paper roll is gone. A dozen pieces of rusty O-gage toy train track are gone. Two bags of clothes, mostly t-shirts, are gone. My collection of seven Elvira, Mistress of the Dark / Coors Beer standup displays, dating back to 1987, are gone, folded up in the cardboard recycling bin. Those were tough to part with, but how likely is it that I’m going to ever set up an Elvira beer display in any room of my house? I checked prices on eBay before ditching stuff. The Elvira displays might have been worth thirty bucks apiece,  but shipping costs from where I currently live made selling them untenable. I threw out an old Marx toy metal barn. That was really hard. My brothers and I got that set from our grandparents when we were very young. Sadly, in addition to being ungainly to store, the barn had rusted quite badly. I did, however, keep the farm animals and accessories. I also tossed a plastic model kit of a London bus I purchased only a couple of years ago. I was swayed by a “fun” looking photo group on Flickr combined with a visit to the annual Honolulu NNL model car show to spend eighty dollars – eighty dollars – buying a plastic model kit. I had started on it, didn’t get very far, and it’s been taking up a lot of space ever since. The likelihood that I will spend my free time building a huge plastic model of a double-decker bus is pretty slim right now. I have too much other stuff to do, both things I need to do and things I “should” be doing. The bus model was so far on the back burner that it was never gonna happen. Tossing that felt like tearing up dollar bills – more like, tearing up a handful of twenty dollar bills – but it’s done, it’s gone, time to keep moving.

Last week we rented a storage unit to help with the decluttering. After reading How To Lose 200 Pounds This Weekend, I realize there are probably at least two large tubs of stuff I’ve already hauled to storage that I’m ready to part with. Next trip, I’m bringing those two tubs home and purging them.

Even though they’re beginning to sound a bit dated in some respects (the technology world, in particular, has changed a lot in the past fifteen years), Don Aslett’s decluttering books are definitely still the best on the market.

DAY XCVIII

Finished reading Finding Ultra: Rejecting Middle Age, Becoming One of the World’s Fittest Men, and Discovering Myself by Rich Roll (2012).

I’ll start by mentioning a line from page 195: “It’s not at all like me to engage in self-congratulatory hyperbole.” Oh yeah? Start with the title, “becoming one of the world’s fittest men and discovering myself.” The book became quite a slog as Rich paints a lengthy picture of himself as being “the worst” at everything — uncoordinated, weak kid who hated school and got picked on on the one hand, but excelling at swimming by age 8, reaching the national level by high school, maintaining perfect grades, and being accepted to both Princeton and Harvard but instead opting for Stanford. He is even better at being a drunk that anybody else, chugging his first taste of beer rather than sipping it, and living the life of a party animal for a decade starting in college, supposedly managing to drive a car and remain fully functional with a blood alcohol level that would be fatal to most people. Despite showing up drunk to present an important paper in law school, his writing and his presentation were so effective and insightful that the Russian embassy asked to share his paper with a group of Russian legal experts. Despite being, according to himself, possibly the worst employee ever during his law clerk days, he was invited to join a high-profile law firm; from there, despite being a hardcore alcoholic prone to binge-drinking and blackouts, he moved up to an even more successful firm. Ultimately, obviously, Roll quit drinking, and suddenly became the healthiest man in the world by turning to a vegan diet. And despite his claims to have never been a runner or being particularly athletic (huh? Nationally-ranked competitive swimming isn’t athletic?), within mere months he somehow went from “overweight” and gasping for breath while climbing a set of eight stairs to competing in Ironman-distance triathlon events, and within a couple of years to completing the first EPIC5 event, five Ironman-distance triathlons on five separate Hawaiian islands over the course of five (extended to seven due largely to technical and scheduling issues) days.

What almost had me throwing the book across the room, which I couldn’t in good conscience actually do since I borrowed the book from the library, was when he referred to a ten-minute mile running pace as “slovenly.” Well, screw you, Mister Fittest Man in the World; for me, a sustained ten-minute mile pace is really pushing hard. And despite being overweight and tending toward lazy, I’m in a lot better shape than most people I know.

Roll is an elitist, coming from money, working as an entertainment lawyer in Hollywood, and utterly failing to pass himself off as either a “regular guy” or as someone disinclined to “self-congratulatory hyperbole.”

A disappointing read, and definitely DE-motivational. All this book did was emphasize how pathetic and UN-exceptional I actually am, and I already knew that.

DAYS XCVII

A blah week of being exhausted by and at work, during which I have accomplished very little. I have been trying to complete the necessary paperwork, which really isn’t much, to list our house for sale with the Multiple Listing Service. I’ve been too tired and cranky after work to put much effort into it, other than one evening during which I completed most of it. Additionally, my spouse, who claims she really wants to sell the house, comes up with one excuse after another for putting it off. I don’t think she really wants to sell and move. Or possibly she is just overwhelmed by thoughts of moving. She keeps catastrophizing about how difficult a move will be — most of the challenges centering around dealing with her five cats.

Five stinking cats. Literally stinking. The exterior of our property reeks of cat urine, particularly when the humidity is high. Personally, I think that is likely to turn off any potential buyers right there. My spouse does not notice the stench. I suspect that I have become so inured to it that I no longer notice how bad the inside of the house smells. But anyway, her concerns over throwing a few cats into shipping containers and putting them on an airplane, even though we’ve done it before, apparently outweigh the benefits of possibly profiting by hundreds of thousands of dollars and being able to significantly reduce our living expenses while enjoying a much higher standard of living.