I'm Okay. Really

Yesterday, after writing a blog post about medicine balls, I ordered a 45-pound slam ball from Amazon. This particular brand of ball does not seem to have the best reputation for quality and endurance (nor the worst), but the 45-pound model was ridiculously cheap. So cheap, I have to wonder whether the price was a mistake. So cheap, I honestly wonder whether what I paid would even cover the cost of free 2-day shipping of an item that weighs 45 pounds.

I'm not on steroids. (I know: that's exactly what most steroid users say. But I'm not.) Just in case any of you were worried about that, or worried about me in general and my new enthusiasm for medicine balls. I'm aware that many or most or all of the people (besides me) who are genuinely interested in 300-lb medicine balls

are on steroids. I'm not interested in becoming even bigger than I already am. I'm not interested in competing in strongman competitions. What I want to do is become thinner. I want to use the medicine balls to burn off fat, more than I want to use them to pack on muscle. If some of my muscles get bigger in the process of burning off fat, that's okay with me, but it's not the main focus.

If I were seriously interesting in developing huge muscles, I would be starting an exercise program centered primarily around lifting barbells and dumbbells -- and around taking steroids and HGH and things like that. But I don't want the huge muscles. I want to get smaller. I want MORE of a neck, not less of one. I don't even know very much about steroids and HGH and other things used by -- well, apparently by top athletes in every single sport where it's not specifically banned and rigourously tested, as well as a lot of the top athletes in sports where it is specifically banned and rigourously tested. I don't know very much about the banned substances, but I get the distinct impression that they're dangerous in various ways. Some people insist they're not, but those people seem to me to be either using steroids (etc), and in denial -- or selling steroids (etc).

I hear that steroids (etc) are expensive, too, so even if I were convinced that they were safe as milk, even if I wanted to take them, I couldn't afford to. (I don't even drink milk, because of health concerns. I don't pour milk on my cereal or oatmeal. If I'm in the mood for a beverage which resembles milk, it's almond milk for me.)

I'm not planning a lot of barbell and dumbbell lifting. Just calisthenics and and cardio and medicine balls. And the medicine balls are mainly intended to intensify the effects of the calisthenics and cardio: burning fat, strengthening my heart and lungs, lowering my blood pressure and resting pulse rate.

HEALTHY stuff. Before my surgery back in August, I said to myself that if I survived, I would make a stronger commitment to my physical health. And that's exactly what I'm doing. And my blood pressure and pulse rate have been coming down -- not dramatically yet, but that's okay. I'm taking small steps in the right direction.

You know, some day I will meet a beautiful woman who is into heavy slam balls and mechanical watches and the Latin language and languages in general and healthy, steroid-free living and quantum theory and Moleskine notebooks and almond milk and kitties, and sparks will fly.

mee r sik munkee

I went into the ER Friday morning, was moved to another ward on Saturday, and discharged Monday afternoon, yesterday. What's wrong with me? They don't know, exactly. The leading theory is that it's an unknown virus, and the hope is that I'll recover within a few more days, as one would normally do from the flu. I was discharged because the hospital didn't know how to treat me, since they haven't yet figured out what's wrong (they will do more tests and keep trying to figure it out), and also because of the concern that I could get additional infection in the hospital and get worse.

I'm concerned that my home environment may have made me sick, and may make me sicker now that I'm back home, and finally, in the hospital, I started telling people about that concern, and I've been put in touch with some people who may be about to evaluate my living space and offer advice about what needs to be done. I've seen homes that were cleaner, and I've seen homes that were dirtier and the residents didn't seem to care. (Maybe they just hadn't admitted yet, like I didn't admit until I was hospitalized, that they were overwhelmed and didn't know what to do and is there anybody who can help?)

I don't want to get into the more gross details about my home here on the blog. I just don't. You're welcome. I just want to say: I wish I had mentioned to someone that I was overwhelmed and didn't know what to do a while ago. Despite what the libertarians say, nobody ever gets through life all on their own, and there's no shame in admitting you need help.

One thing the hospital visit made very clear, although I already knew it, is that I need to be around people more. There were hospital staff around 24 hours a day, and many of them were very friendly, and some of them I liked very much, and now here I am back at home alone except for the Internet. I need to get well and then get out of the house and mix it up. Probably in that order.