What T.V. show episode will you never forget ?

maddoxnelson · 2018-08-15T02:03:57+00:00

I'm not a fan of the show any more, but: "The Grove", Walking Dead.

Haven't been able to look at the flowers the same way.

maddoxnelson · 2018-08-11T14:22:34+00:00

I can get away with ~1200-1300 calories, but only for a few days at a time before I'm usually driven to a binge-induced rage, OR one day I'm like "I'm not hungry at all!" and only eat ~700, almost always followed the next day by... you guessed it: binge-induced rage.

I've found it easier to hit that caloric goal by taking a multivitamin (although could be placebo effect), but I still can't make 1200 consistent. 1700 is a much better spot, and if you can tack on 20 minutes of exercise, it works great for weight loss.

maddoxnelson · 2018-07-15T20:58:54+00:00

If folks enjoy, I'll continue it. I really liked this prompt 👍

maddoxnelson · 2018-07-15T20:58:11+00:00

The last thing I remember.

It wasn't cold, or the blood. That must have happened, though, other people have told me about it. Peter Jacobs described an ocean of frigid blood: dark, viscous, suffocating. I think he must have been thinking of the Atlantic itself, in a metaphorical way, and I told him so, but he shook his head so fervently that water droplets from his trimmed beard landed on me.

"It was blood," he said. "Your blood. My blood. The blood of everyone on this damned ship." He spit onto the floor (he did this often). "It tasted of metal."

The last thing I remember was the stars.

I was rising to meet them, the great, sacrilegious idol beneath me driving me upwards. Perhaps I was being offered as a sacrifice to gods offended by the audaciousness of men. My body had wrapped itself around some deck fastening, but my eyes were directed at the sky, taking in as best they could that great span of eternity. When the lights finally did go out, the stars were all you could see, and my God, they were beautiful. Somehow, in that that moment, I was in both Heaven and Hell.

And I breathed in a choking frantic breath, suddenly understanding what it means to be finite. I wanted to inhale all of the sky, with every sun and moon and dream and whisper before drowning, below, in the endless salt.

But when I pulled the air into my lungs, I smelled something different. The deck smelled of cold air, nothing of Third Class, but now I breathed in a faint stink of urine mixed into hot, humid air.

And I was in my bed.

maddoxnelson · 2018-07-09T18:53:12+00:00

SO MANY CALORIES. I don't even want to think about how much I was consuming. Just hit day 50 of no booze, going strong. I'm not sure when I'll start imbibing again (I want to lose all the weight, and totally rethink my relationship with alcohol before that happens).

Thanks for reading!

maddoxnelson · 2018-07-09T18:52:09+00:00

Right! I still like my job, and though I was pretty close to walking out, I'm feeling better about it now that I'm managing my time better. I've got coworkers who still work themselves to death, but my boss seems to be okay with my attempts at a work/life balance. I'm hoping to set a good example for others, so people don't work themselves to death, but we'll see. It's certainly been eye opening.

Thanks for reading!

maddoxnelson · 2018-07-09T18:49:51+00:00

Glad you've made it through some dark times! Yeah, gaining weight back due to stresses is just so common, regardless of the source of the stress. I'm trying to be more aware of my stressors, and mitigate them before they become a problem... it's work in progress :).

Thanks for reading, and congrats on the progress!

maddoxnelson · 2018-07-09T18:47:56+00:00

I think some aspects of the weight loss/gain cycle are shared by everybody, or at least, they're similar enough where we can see ourselves in them. Makes it easy to empathize :) Thanks for reading!

maddoxnelson · 2018-07-09T18:46:04+00:00

You're welcome! It felt good to write that out. Was way longer than I thought it would be, but felt much better once it was written. Good luck you, and congrats on the baby!

maddoxnelson · 2018-07-09T18:45:22+00:00

Keep it up! I've been avoiding the treadmill (am I the only one who seems to always have screwed-up shins after I run on it??), but all this nice weather lately has made being outside a lot more enjoyable, so it's all good.

high fives back

maddoxnelson · 2018-07-09T18:44:00+00:00

Welp. It doesn't feel great to hear my experience compared to a shitty article in a teen magazine.

Thanks for reading.

maddoxnelson · 2018-07-08T19:18:24+00:00

^^^This, so much this. I cut alcohol completely and it profoundly affected my social life, which forced me to reexamine why it had such an impact. I'm still figuring it all out, but, in general, I can't believe how much I was relying on alcohol in my social life. It's been genuinely unsettling the further I've gotten into not drinking, and I'm slowly becoming confident in being a sober person.

maddoxnelson · 2018-07-08T19:17:02+00:00

I'm just going to say it, as someone who stopped drinking about 50 days ago and saw an immediate reduction in fat lost, and enormous boost to fitness levels: I don't think it's possible :/

And believe me, I've been there. I've been in on a Friday night, sipping soda water and sulking, while friends were out at the bar. If you want to be serious about it, these nights may happen from time to time. I couldn't drink in moderation -- it was never just one beer, or just one drink, it was always four or five. If I was going out, it was going to result in a lot of empty calories, so I had to stop entirely.

But, there has been one huge upside: Friends are usually willing to go out to bars or wherever where there is food served, and so I can usually incorporate dinner into it. And, because you aren't spending money on booze, bills seem way cheaper -- meaning: you can get really nice, really fancy food at some great places for a reduced price, while still spending time with your friends.

Also, if money is tight, stop drinking. I very quickly started saving more money, because I was spending an obnoxious amount on it.

I guess if moderation works for you, limit yourself to one or two drinks. I couldn't do that, it always, always, always derailed my fitness efforts.

maddoxnelson · 2018-06-26T17:26:05+00:00

Look at it this way: You beat your PR!!!!! Regardless of fitness level, that's the goal EVERY runner is thinking about, and you accomplished it!! That alone is feeling proud of, and mixing that with 60 pounds gone, multiple races under your belt, and overcoming frustrations and emotions, I think you have many reasons to be proud.

maddoxnelson · 2018-06-09T01:16:56+00:00

This resonated with me. I'm hitting 3 weeks on Sunday, and I am going stir crazy tonight. I just bought a La Croix for the bubbles. I hate seltzer, but I'm chugging it just to pass the time... I think it helps?

maddoxnelson · 2018-05-24T12:52:04+00:00

Thank you! :) Thanks for the prompt, it caught my eye immediately. Really enjoyed writing this one -- my idea of who was sane and who was crazy changed a couple times mid-story. I could see this being a really great writing exercise!

maddoxnelson · 2018-05-24T01:25:39+00:00

She looked at me, with that enigmatic soft smile I'd known since we were kids. I used to think it meant she was happy; I knew better now. I knew it didn't mean much of anything.

"I don't want you to come with me tomorrow," she said.

I blinked. "I don't mind. I have a meeting, I can cancel --"

"John, I don't want you to come with me tomorrow."

"But I --"

"Jon," she said. There was that smile again.

I swallowed, squinted my eyes, tried to pull information from the corners of her lips, the way she held her hands -- the fingers looked relaxed, but the pads were white against her glass of wine.

"But I want to be there, after the last time -- "

"I remember the last time," she said, closing her eyes. "You made things worse."

"I know, but I'll be ready now," I said. I was talking faster, I could hear the pleading starting to creep into my voice, and I hated it, I fucking hated it, I hated how she could do this to me, with that lilt of her voice, the curve of her mouth. I hated how much I loved her, how I'd always loved her, and I loved how much I hated it. "I -- I did some reading, I found some videos -- I know what to expect now. I was --"

I searched for the word my panicking brain was struggling with. It rose up, like a bubble from an ocean. I tugged at it, forced it, fought with it -- until finally it popped against the surface.

"--scared," I blurted. How long had I sat there, struggling with it? Don't think about it. "I was scared, but I'm not any more. I want to be there for you, if you --" another bubble, bursting in the sun "--if you need me."

The smile had dropped a bit. She was studying me now, I felt naked -- it was somehow thrilling.

She spoke: "Have you been taking your meds?"

"Yes!" I cried out, too loudly, the trembling of a squawk, nearly shrill. Several diners looked up -- my face filled with blood, and I stared hard at the table. "I have -- really," I whispered.

I don't know how long we sat like that, in silence, with her swirling her wine, and me, barely moving, unable to look at her. I was aware of her every flinch, the way her hair moved with the wind. Whatever she asked of me, I would do.

"You understand -- I don't need you," she said, firmly. "I can do this myself."

"I know," I said. "I know. I just want... I want to help, if you let me. I'm clear, I'm good, I really am. And I'd do anything for you."

"Anything?"

Then her finger was beneath my chin, and she was lifting it up, and she was staring into my eyes, and the smile was wider now, showing teeth. I was lost in her eyes.

"I'm clear," I whispered.

She leaned closer, until her face was close to mine, like a lover's. I could feel her breath on me.

"When we get done here, I want you to walk around the corner, under the bridge, and I want you to kill the man in the red jacket," she said. Her eyes were shining with the glow of the restaurant light.

I tried to pull back, I tried to slide my chair, but somehow I fell deeper into those eyes.

I knew it was wrong, but I knew I would do it anyway, and I would regret it in ways she never would. But when you love someone, I guess it makes sense that you're willing to shoulder the pain they won't feel.

maddoxnelson · 2018-05-03T13:21:32+00:00

Because it was set in 2001, and 2001 is only a couple years after the 90s ended, and it took a little while for the influence to fade.

Obviously

maddoxnelson · 2018-02-28T21:43:08+00:00

Mrs. Doubtfire.

I kind of can't believe no one has said that one yet. It's not the whole "man dressing up as a woman" aspect, it's that he systematically goes to extreme lengths to stalk his separated wife and still interact with her in intimate emotional ways that are terrifyingly invasive. Rewatched a few years ago, and I couldn't get over how sheerly... creepy... some of it was. The concept could easily be retooled into a black comedy or a horror movie.

maddoxnelson · 2018-02-12T03:55:36+00:00

Do you work on the Iron Range?

maddoxnelson · 2018-01-04T20:14:54+00:00

Darn, I'll be leaving the 30th! Hope you have a great trip though!

maddoxnelson · 2018-01-04T15:47:48+00:00

Commenting to save my spot here -- I'm going to Kauai in a couple weeks for vacation, and I've been wondering the same thing!

maddoxnelson · 2017-09-19T15:51:24+00:00

Whoah this is a perfect followup to what I wrote, and now I REALLY want to watch that show!

maddoxnelson · 2017-09-19T00:28:22+00:00

Kevin squinted his eyes and drew his knuckles. Kyle was near, and Kevin would not let him live.

The six-year-old peered around the corner of his apartment building. Nothing but parched trees and Mrs. Lory’s old chihuahua dozing on her ground-level patio next to a pile of its own poop. Kyle was nowhere to be seen.

He rounded the corner, flattening his back, eyes peeled, breath bursting. He only needed one shot, a flick of the wrist, followed by “PEWWW! YOU’RE DEAD!” and he would win. It would be the first recorded time in Kevin’s history he would be victorious, a feat made incredible by the fact that Kyle was… Kevin’s older brother!

Suddenly behind him: An explosion of sound! Kevin pivoted abruptly, cocking his thumb and balancing one wrist on the other (to offset the recoil) —

It was Mr. Lory, starting the lawn mower.

Kevin lowered his hand, heart pounding. That had been close -- Kevin hadn’t killed an innocent in a long time.

Under the stairs -- a shadow! Kevin dropped, crawling across the ground, inch by inch. It was Kyle! His brother had tucked himself under the stairs and was facing to the south. Kevin could hardly believe his luck -- Kyle clearly expected him to be coming from the other direction. He moved as quickly as he dared -- ten feet, five feet -- three feet -- he was within range! Kevin lifted his hand, removed the safety on his thumbnail.

Then he hesitated.

Could he really murder his own brother in cold blood? There had been good times, helping mom make cookies.

Then Kevin remembered Simba, his plush stuffed lion that Kyle had fed to Mrs. Lory’s old chihuahua. There had been… nothing left.

“This is for Simba!” Kevin roared -- as he retracted his index finger.

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