Monthly Archives: May 2013

Golden Eyes

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By Alejandro De La Garza

Okay, you know those stories where people start off by saying something like, ‘You’ll probably think I’m crazy,’ or ‘You’ll never believe what I’m about to tell you’?  Well, I won’t exactly say that, but …

I’m such a practical person.  I guess you’d expect that of a paralegal.  I couldn’t even imagine swimming in the ocean in February.  But, when I went to Easter Island last year – February last year – with Cindy and Jessica, that’s exactly what we did.  Swam in the ocean – in February!  It was in the middle of their summer, like August up here.  But, Houston is nowhere near as beautiful as Easter Island.  I’ve always said I wanted to get stuck on a remote island for a while – just to clear my head.  That’s why I took that one trip to Yosemite – just to be alone and think about things.

I have to admit I really didn’t want to go.  I was still so upset after breaking up with Robert right after that Labor Day mess.  I just wanted to sulk.  I mean, right in front of everybody, like we were on a talk show, Robert announces he’s done with me.  Done with me?!  Like I’m an old cell phone.  I should have seen that coming, but I just didn’t.  I wanted everything in life.  I already had the perfect career.  I just wanted someone to share it with.  Robert seemed like the perfect man for me.  He wasn’t controlling and he didn’t want to jump in bed as soon as we met.  After a year, though, I sensed something was wrong.  I thought it was because of Cindy and Jessica.

Cindy, Jessica and I have been friends for years.  We’re always hanging out, going places, flirting with men, crying on each other’s shoulders.  We’re all business professionals, but if you saw us in a social setting, you’d think we were a comedy troupe.  I think most men get scared of us.  But, we really have a lot of fun together.  In fact, I have more fun with them than I ever did with Robert.

I think Robert was kind of jealous of Cindy and Jessica.  They didn’t like him anyway; they just sort of tolerated him.  But, then again, he didn’t really care much for them either.  They all tried to be respectful of one another.  Cindy and Jessica knew how I felt about Robert, so I guess they didn’t want to interfere too much.  But, when things started to go bad between Robert and me, I had no one else to turn to, except Cindy and Jessica.  They’re two of my best friends, and we’ve always been there for one another.

It was about two weeks after the Labor Day blow-up that Jessica suggested we take a road trip out to San Antonio.  But then – literally out of nowhere – Cindy mentioned Easter Island.

For some reason, I had the impression Easter Island was some sort of giant nature reserve; off-limits to tourists.  But, I was pleased to find out it’s not.  Even before I could say anything, Cindy started making travel plans.

“Girl, I’m not in the mood to go anywhere now!” I told her.  “Not even a road trip!”

“Damn, Susana!” she said.  “You can’t be acting like this!”  She was pissed that I was still upset about Robert.

But, she was right.  I couldn’t let him ruin my life like that.  I spent most of my time sulking.  Then, it dawned on me that all three of us were single; none of us were in a relationship at the time.  That hadn’t happened in a while.  One of us had been involved with someone at some point over the past few years.

I knew planning for a trip to a place like Easter Island takes plenty of time and energy.  It’s not a just a simply plane flight away.  It’s almost halfway around the world.  And, because of my legal background, I suppose, I just don’t make spur-of-the-moment plans.  We’d always left that to Cindy.  She was the wild one of the bunch.

But, I finally just said, ‘What the hell,’ and started getting ready.

I don’t know what’s the worst part about vacations: the packing or the traveling.  I didn’t know what all to take with me.  I knew I had to take my hair and skin care stuff.  I never really bother with nail polish.  I only use clear polish.  Cindy’s nail polish always has to match her shoes.  Then, Cindy had to get a passport.  She just barely made it by the time we took off.

I can sit in a conference room for an hour discussing the minutia of legal strategy, but a 15-hour plane flight will test anyone’s patience.  So, in retrospect, I guess the actual traveling is the worst part.  But, all the while, Cindy kept saying, “Just think of those beaches!  Just think of those beaches!”

There’s absolutely nothing like being on an isolated island.  It’s a wonder humans ever made it there in the first place.  They had to have found it just by chance.  It’s such a tiny speck of land, almost in the middle of nowhere.  I just find it amazing.

On our first day, we met a middle-aged man named Atamu.  He was incredibly friendly – aren’t all island residents friendly? – and rather handsome.  He had such a pretty smile, and his eyes would literally light up; they had a gilded tint to them.  His deep auburn hair was thick and wavy.  Atamu was born and raised on the island and worked to educate people about the importance of caring for the environment.  Easter Island has a rather nasty legacy of environmental destruction.  Atamu kept insisting the world, as a whole, could learn from the mistakes his ancestors made.

I never really thought that much about the environment – not to the level of actually doing something about it.  That’s what Cindy does.  She really takes those things seriously, and I guess I should, too.  Cindy and Atamu ended up becoming fast friends.  She has that really outgoing type of personality, whereas Jessica is more moderate, and I’m more subdued.  So, if the three of us go anywhere new, Cindy is usually plays the ambassador role.

But, you’d think Cindy and Atamu had known each other for years.  They fed off each other, almost like a married couple.  It was so funny watching them.  Atamu naturally took visitors on tour guides.  Of course, we had to see the giant mo’ai; those monolithic heads lined up along the coasts.  We probably learned more than we ever needed to know about those things from Atamu.  But, it’s a fascinating piece of history.

We stayed at a resort near the town of Orongo on the far southwestern corner of the island.  It was late on that first day when we made our way to a beach.  After all, that’s why we were here.  The resort sat back in a cove-like setting, so it looked like we were surrounded by land on three sides.  But, I have to say the waters of the South Pacific are unbelievable!  I’ve never seen water that shade of turquoise.  It was truly as breathtaking as the mo’ai.

But, just being on that island, thousands of miles from home, far from anything, put me at ease like nothing had ever done before.  We did the usual touristy things, of course, aside from heading out to look at the mo’ai.  But, we always headed for that beach.

On our third day there, I trotted out to the water’s edge as usual.  I just waded in until the water was knee-high.  Then, it suddenly began to swell around me, and before I knew it, I was being sucked further out into the ocean.  It startled me at first, but at the same time, it was exciting.  There was that rush through my brain.  I felt at first I was going out too far.  Then, I managed to kick my way to the surface.  I was further away than I thought, but it didn’t bother me at all.  I had so fallen in love with this place!

I started swimming back to shore when I felt something grab at my feet.  It scared me because I instantly thought about sharks.  And then, jellyfish.  I don’t know anyone in their right mind who wants to encounter either of those things.

I kept swimming, but it grabbed me again – and I realized instantly it didn’t feel like an animal mouth.  It wasn’t a shark biting down on my ankle, or a tentacle wrapping around it.  It was literally someone gripping me – a hand.

My first thought, amidst all the confusion, was that someone had been swept out along with me and they were drowning.  I remembered something about rip tides and I thought that’s what was happening.  I’d been caught up in one of those rip tides, along with somebody else – although I didn’t recall seeing anyone near me.

But, it really startled me badly.  I mean, bad!  And, I’m used to dealing with lawyers, mind you.

So, I started thrashing around; doing an alligator death roll-type of movement to scare them away.  But then, they grabbed me again.  Whoever it was beneath me had managed to get a grip on my ankle.  Then, I realized they had both ankles.  Whoever this person was – panicking under the water – had grabbed both my ankles.  That’s when I started to lose it.

Then, they pulled me under.  This poor soul was drowning – and I was going right along with them.  Well, I thought for a second, at least I’ll die in paradise.

But, the panic set in – unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before.  I’ve been scared, but I’ve never been terrified.  And, I mean truly, absolutely, undeniably terrified!

This person kept pulling me downward.  They really had a firm grip on my ankles.  I stopped thrashing around.  I hadn’t even thought about screaming because it startled me so much.  But, under water…well, no one can hear you scream.

Whoever this person was kept putting their hands on me, as if inspecting me.  I was too scared to get offended.  Then, as I floated down, it got dark; really dark.  Dark, dark blue – indigo.  The bright turquoise color had gone, as had the sun – and the sound of the waves.

Then, I saw those golden-colored eyes.  I thought – for that first second – it was an octopus.  For some reason, that came to mind.  It wasn’t a person.  Some giant Pacific octopus had grabbed my ankles and pulled me down – and was about to kill me.

But, it wasn’t that.  It wasn’t an octopus.  It was a face.  It was someone.  It really was a person who’d been beneath me.  Rip tide, I thought again.  We’d both been caught up in a rip tide, and this person had panicked when they saw me and just lunged upward.

But, those eyes – gold-colored.  I’d dated a guy in college who had gold-colored eyes.  Then, I realized I was dying.  This was it – I really was dying, and my life was literally flashing before me.  So, that is true.  Damn!  I won’t be able to tell anyone about it.

Those eyes – those gold-colored eyes – were set into a narrow face.  It was a man; he had to be.  He had no hair on his head.  And, he kept putting his hands on me.  But, I was still too terrified to get offended.

Who was this man?  How did he get here?  How philosophical one gets in the midst of death!  I looked down – without really thinking about it – and just noticed a dark mass.  What should have been his body – it was just a mass.  But, those eyes – those yellow-gold eyes – just looking at me.  He cocked his head a little, the way dogs do when they see something new.

Who are you?

Then, I realized he’d pulled his hands off of me.  In the depths of that water, I could make out his broad shoulders and muscular arms.  But, he didn’t have his hands on me anymore.  So, I started moving away.  My hair had wrapped around my head, but I kept backing away.

I was drowning.  Oh God!  I really was drowning!  That’s such a terrifying sensation.  But, before I knew it, I was on the water’s surface; still far away from the beach.

I began swimming and finally reached the sand.  I was exhausted and shaking.

Then, as I began crawling up the shore, I felt a pair of hands grab my arms.  And, I thought, ‘Oh, God!  He’s back!’

But, it was Cindy and Jessica.

“My God,” screamed Jessica.  “What the hell happened?!  You disappeared!”

I couldn’t speak.

“Susana, are you okay?!” hollered Cindy.

Their voices sounded hollow; like we were in a wind tunnel.  Other people were around us and were talking and shouting, too.

They finally half-carried, half-dragged me to our spot on the beach; far away from the water.

“What happened?” Jessica asked again.  She sounded normal.

“I – uh – I don’t know,” I finally was able to say.  And, I didn’t know.  I really didn’t know what had just happened.

“She almost drowned,” I heard Cindy say, before realizing she was talking to someone else; a man from the resort.

After a few more minutes, I was able to gather my senses and my breath – and began to feel incredibly embarrassed.  I’m not one for drama.  That’s Cindy’s job.  But, here I was on this beach on an island in the middle of nowhere, and I’d managed to cause a scene.

That evening, we sat in the hotel’s piano lounge.  The sun was setting.  I’d never seen it set over an ocean.  I kept staring at it; just staring.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Cindy asked – again.

“Yea,” I said, “why?”

“What do you mean why?!”  Her voice carried and caught the attention of some other guests.

“I’m fine,” I told her.  I looked at Jessica and repeated myself.  “I’m fine.”

The next day we decided to forgo the beach and head into Orongo.  I hadn’t really forgotten about the day before, though I decided not to dwell on it.  I decided to treat it like a bad case: just get over it.  But – deep down inside – I was still scared.

“Hello, my American girlfriends!”  Atamu had come out of nowhere.

We were happy to see him.  He had such a pretty smile.

“We were just walking around,” said Jessica, as if that wasn’t obvious.

“That’s good!  Very good!  Walking is good.”  He looked at me.  “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” I told him.  “Why?”

“I heard about that incident yesterday – out on the beach.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes.  Are you okay?”

“Yes – I’m fine.  Thank you.”

“That happens sometime.  You go out in the water – too far sometime.  The ocean is so big and very good to us.  But, it can be scary.”

“Tell me about.”

His eyes glinted, even in the shade of a store.  “We make lives from ocean for thousands of years.  We mean no harm.”

“Oh – okay.”

“I must go.  Family stuff.  My American girlfriends, enjoy the rest of your stay!  Hope to see you before you go back!”

“Oh, you will, honey!” said Cindy.

Atamu bowed, taking off his straw hat, and disappeared into a crowd.

“He’s so nice,” said Jessica.

“Everyone’s been nice to us down here,” added Cindy.

I stood there against the building; just looking out into the crowd.  I saw Atamu’s face again.  He smiled – those gold-colored eyes smiling with him.

I was no longer scared.

© 2013

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From Pyramid to Rocks

Not much remains of the Nohmul Pyramid in Belize.

Not much remains of the Nohmul Pyramid in Belize.

In one of the most egregious incidents of blatant stupidity, a road crew in the tiny Central American nation of Belize almost completely destroyed a 2,300-year-old Mayan pyramid to create road fill.  Jaime Awe, head of the Belize Institute of Archeology, announced on Monday that the destruction of Nohmul, near the border with México, was detected last week.  They managed to halt any further destruction and have zoned off the site.

“It’s a feeling of incredible disbelief because of the ignorance and the insensitivity … they were using this for road fill,” Awe said.  “It’s like being punched in the stomach.  It’s just so horrendous.”

Nohmul, which stood about 100 feet high, dates to at least 230 B.C. and was well-known to Belize authorities.  It sat in a privately-owned sugar cane field, but its presence was obvious, noted Awe, who insisted that the road crew couldn’t possibly have mistaken it for a natural hill.

“These guys knew that this was an ancient structure,” Awe said.  “It’s just bloody laziness.”

The Belize community-action group Citizens Organized for Liberty Through Action called the destruction of the archaeological site “an obscene example of disrespect for the environment and history.”

If there’s any good thing, it’s that the road crew and whoever was in charge of it could face criminal charges, since Belize has a federal prohibiting the destruction of such sites.

But, it’s not the first time this has happened.  For years, pre-Hispanic archeological sites have been destroyed throughout Latin America to make room for buildings, soccer stadiums and parking lots.  In Puebla, México, the “Iglesia de Neustra Señora de los Remedios” (Church of Our Lady of Remedies) sits atop the Cholula Pyramid, which dates to the 3rd century B.C. and is the largest pyramid in the world.  But, that church is very old; constructed years before most people realized the value of indigenous buildings.

It’s really hard to believe that, at one time, the Mayans were among the most advanced and civilized societies in the ancient world.  They charted the night skies, developed intricate farming techniques and created their own form of writing.  Now, their descendants are peddling homemade wares for a few American dollars and destroying those carefully and painfully-constructed edifices to even out some roads.  I can only hope the vandals in the Nohmul case will endure some type of severe punishment.

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Happy Birthday George Lucas!

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Born May 14, 1944 in Modesto, California, Lucas is best known for the “Star Wars” and “Indiana Jones” series.  But, his first film, “THX-1138,” flopped when it came out in 1971.  It was a full-length version of a short film he made while a student at the University of Southern California.  He redeemed himself, however, with a decidedly home-themed movie, “American Graffiti,” in 1973, and has enjoyed one success after another since.

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Sparkles Forever – ABBA Museum Opens

As radiant as they wanted to be: Ulvaeus, Fältskog, Lyngstad and Anderson in their prime.

As radiant as they wanted to be: Ulvaeus, Fältskog, Lyngstad and Anderson in their prime.

Finally, a museum that’s not boring!  As homage to the sequin-stained glitz and glamor that was the 1970s, the city of Stockholm last week opened a museum dedicated to one of Sweden’s best-known exports: the musical group ABBA.  Formed in 1972 by married couples Agnetha Fältskog & Björn Ulvaeus and Anni-Frid Lyngstad & Benny Anderson, the quartet rocketed to international stardom after winning the 1974 Eurovision Song Contest.  During their 10 years as a group, ABBA sold over 370 million albums and singles worldwide; they still sell millions of records a year.  The group’s name is an amalgamation of the members’ names.

Inspired by The Beatles Museum in Liverpool, England, the ABBA Museum has been a decade in the making.  But, as the group promises, it will be “a fun and swinging museum to visit.”  Housed in the same building as the Swedish Rock n’ Roll Hall of Fame, the ABBA Museum traces the group’s history, beginning with Ulvaeus’ days as a folk singer in the 1960s.  The museum is tech-friendly, says managing director Mattias Hamsson, as visitors can remix such ABBA classics as “Take a Chance on Me,” “Knowing Me, Knowing You” and “Dancing Queen” (perhaps the gayest song ever made) and sing alongside 3D holograms of the band.  As you have guessed, it also sells CDs of those songs and ABBA-related merchandise.

ABBA last performed publicly in December 1982.  They never formally announced their dissolution, but it was obvious after a while that they were no more.  The 2 couples each divorced afterwards, married other people and continued with their respective solo musical careers.  As bad as the 1970s were, that decade still produced some of the best music.  A visit to the ABBA Museum might give you a headache from all that glitter, but it’s surely better than browsing through an IKEA store!

Take a Chance on Me

Knowing Me, Knowing You

Fernando

Mamma Mia

Dancing Queen

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Feather Frenzy

If I told you Chris Maynard has an obsession with feathers, you might wonder what the hell that means.  But, artists rarely can explain why they do what they do; their work just shows it all.  For Maynard, feathers serve as an artistic medium in the same way paint or clay does to others.  They show “life’s perfection,” he says, in the way they conform to a bird’s body.  “Their complexity as a covering beats any clothing we make.”

Based in Olympia, Washington, Maynard’s passion developed when he began photographing feathers several years ago.  Then, he started to arrange them into various “shadow boxes,” before creating his own unique art form.  His creations are literally feather-light silhouettes of various types of birds from the actual plumage.

Maynard doesn’t harm, or poach, any birds to obtain the feathers; instead, collecting them from zoos, aviaries and bird rescue organizations.  He mostly uses parrot and pheasant feathers to sculpt replicas of hummingbirds, cranes, swans and others.  He sketches designs in a notebook, but spends time outdoors, observing the real thing.  Once back in his studio, he dons “big nerdy magnifying glasses” to see the feather’s details and utilizes eye surgery tools he inherited from his father, an ophthalmologist.  His academic background in entomology may have given him an edge in handling such delicate items, but he clearly has a passion for avian creatures.

“I hope that seeing birds in a different light through my artwork will encourage appreciation of avian life and hence a desire to conserve it,” says Maynard.

Amazon parrot and macaw feathers.

Amazon parrot and macaw feathers.

 

Turkey feather.

Turkey feather.

 

Crow feather.

Crow feather.

 

Great Argus pheasant wing feathers.

Great Argus pheasant wing feathers.

 

Great Argus pheasant feather and two small macaw feathers.

Great Argus pheasant feather and two small macaw feathers.

 

Mute swan feathers.

Mute swan feathers.

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Happy Birthday Stevie Wonder!

Stevie Wonder

Stevie Wonder, born Steveland Hardaway Judkins on May 13, 1950 in Saginaw, Michigan.

Uptight (Everything’s Alright), 1965

For Once in My Life, 1969

Signed, Sealed, Delivered, I’m Yours, 1970

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Dead Bugs and Other Classics of Early Stop-Motion Animation

Bugs cavort in Wladyslaw Starewicz’s “The Cameraman’s Revenge.”

Bugs cavort in Wladyslaw Starewicz’s “The Cameraman’s Revenge.”

As a film buff and former film student, I have a natural affinity for silent movies.  They’re a mark of cultural history, even though in those early days, many considered the medium little more than a passing fad.  But, almost from the start, film captured some historical events; such as the 1896 coronation of Nicholas II, the last tsar of Russia, and the moments before Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria – Hungary and his wife, Sofia, were assassinated in 1914 – an event considered the trigger for World War I.

But, many early filmmakers also saw the potential in cinema.  Among them was Wladyslaw Starewicz, a Russian-born artist now considered one of the pioneers of film animation.  In 1912, he produced “The Cameraman’s Revenge,” which combined his fascination with insects and the then-revolutionary stop-motion method.  The result is amazing, even by today’s standards.

The earliest stop-motion animated movie, “The Humpty Dumpty Circus” from 1898, has been lost.  But, a 1902 piece, “Fun in a Bakery Shop,” made by Edwin S. Porter and produced by Thomas Edison, has stop-motion animation elements.  Porter is best known for “The Great Train Robbery,” which came out in 1903, and has a scene where a character fires a gun directly at the camera lens; a stunt that terrified audiences and made them duck.

Also in 1903, Edison produced the first example of claymation with “Dream of a Rarebit Friend.”

In 1905, Spanish filmmaker Segundo de Chomón released “El Hotel Electrico,” which features bags flying around.

In 1906, Edison presented “Humorous Phases of Funny Faces,” which features the first example of direct digital manipulation: an image is moved, changed, or erased in each frame.

All of this proves you don’t need fancy graphics or design to make good animation – just a great story and a wild imagination.

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Florence Nightingale – The Original ‘Super Mom’

Florence_Nightingale_by_Kilburn_c1854

In honor of Mother’s Day, I wanted to note that it was on this day in 1820 that Florence Nightingale was born in Firenze (Florence), Italy to a prominent British family.  Her family returned to England the following year.  While still in her teens, Nightingale developed a strong affinity for helping those in times of need.  Her strong devotion led her to reject several marriage proposals; something unheard of in her day where women were expected to marry and have children.  She probably acquired her independence from her own father, William Edward Nightingale, who provided his daughter with a solid education that included mathematics.

Nightingale came to prominence during the Crimean War where she tended to wounded soldiers.  She became known as “The Lady with the Lamp,” after her habit of making her rounds at night.  In 1860, she laid the foundation for professional nursing when she almost single-handedly designed a nursing program at St. Thomas’ Hospital in London.  Now, her birthday is celebrated as International Nurses Day.

Nightingale obviously was the original “Super Mom!”  Her personal determination and professional contributions have had a long-lasting impact on modern society.

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Happy Mother’s Day!

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“I summon you now,
Not to think of 
The ceaseless battle,
With pain and ill health, 
The frailty and the anguish. 
No, today I remember,
The creator, 
The lion-hearted.”

May Sarton, For My Mother

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Weekend Night Gym Bugs

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I visited my local gym last night to run on the treadmill and lift some weights and I’ll probably go again tonight.  I was a little tired and sore from sitting all week, slaving over a hot computer.  But, I hadn’t been to the gym all week long and knew that some leg work would eliminate that ubiquitous sore butt syndrome.  I know how odd that sounds, considering most people either go to the gym on a weeknight or during the day on weekends.  So, I wanted to take a quick survey.

If you go to the gym late on a weekend night (e.g. after 8 P.M. Friday – Sunday), you’re:

a. Committed to building your body and maintaining optimum health.

b. Extremely lonely and, with no romantic prospects, decide to take out your    sexual frustrations on innocent dumbbells.

c. A psychopathic survivalist preparing for a zombie apocalypse.

d. A blogger trying to come up with stupid shit to write about.

e. All of the above.

Well, I don’t believe in zombies – vampires and werewolves, yes, but not zombies.  I’m such an introvert, though, that visiting the gym during the off-hours has always been one of my greatest proclivities.  I’ve had memberships at various local gyms for more than 25 years, but this gym is the first one I’ve found that’s open 24 hours.  Thus, dropping by around 9:30 or 10:00 on a Saturday night has become my weekend ritual.  I’ve been going there nearly 8 years and can’t foresee joining another gym any time soon.  The building used to be a grocery store, so the facility is huge, with plenty of equipment and plenty of room.

As you might expect, I pretty much see the same people whenever I go.  I hardly talk to any of them, but if I saw them in a crowd of people running from a pack of zombies or survivalists, I’d at least say hi.  Late on weekend nights is actually the best time for me; again, that loner part of me (which is actually 99.9% of my personality) relishes it.  And, there’s one good reason: it’s simply not crowded.  I rarely have to share a piece of equipment or try to work in with someone.  There aren’t large groups of people laughing and cavorting like it’s happy hour.  There aren’t any couples trying to prove how cute they are.  In fact, no one around at that time of night on a weekend wants to show off.  We’re all there to pump some iron and be left alone.

Yes, call us lonely, if you want, but I see us for who we truly are: dedicated individuals fighting against the rising tide of obesity and laziness in this nation.  And, when that zombie apocalypse hits, we’ll be more than ready!

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