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Mar. 28th, 2015 05:02 amYesterday morning was the first time I used the stair machine at the gym. Dad showed me how to use it soon as the one next to him was free, but he had me walk rather slowly on it so as to maintain a heartrate of around 130.
Soon as he was done showing me the ropes, he suggested I aim for 500 steps before finding a treadmill to walk on. I made it up to around 316 before getting bored, and he called me over to use the mill next to his. Walked for about four minutes before getting off, and after I refilled my water bottle, he called me over to come leave with him, saying I should go with Mom instead from now on, given how easy I like to take things. I said nothing all ride home while pretty much agreeing with him; he's sick of telling me to take better advantage of the gym instead of sitting down at these tables in the corner, and I'm tired of him telling me how to budget my time.
Back home, I could hear Mom from inside my room asking him what's wrong. She had to ask several times before he finally started ranting about how utterly pathetic I am as a person, and how I don't give a shit about anyone or anything except myself, and how it seems that I'm just gonna mooch off of them and play video games until the day I die. He ranted about how he used to make a living at my age by digging clams, which required a lot of muscle power, while I just mosey along on the treadmill at three miles an hour, and even Brian couldn't so much as operate a pair of clamming tongs when the two of them were out on the catboat. He put so much effort alongside Mom into raising me, and I never bonded with him, I have nothing to show for all the hard work he invested into me, I don't care about making him proud, and so on.
At some point, he told me I'm not coming with him on some planned trip to his family's in Virginia. I said "Fine," and he basically tells Mom "See? He doesn't care." Actually, yes, I thought it would be nice to see them, but I wasn't gonna beg him like some kid to let me come with him.
(He did apologize later for expecting too much from me in the first place. Later still, I asked him whether I should still stay home, and he asked me to come.)
-----
Since this needs to be cleared up, here is what my routine at the gym consists of, and I don't intend to change anything.
1) Walk the treadmill at 3.5 mph for an indeterminate length of time. Depending on how long I can think about whatever's on my mind before tiring out, this can last between less than five minutes to more than half an hour. (Dad once called me out for spending so much time on one that he already finished his workout during the following step.)
2) Take a breather, sit at one of the tables for a short but indeterminate length of time, and just continue thinking about whatever.
3) Time for the weight machines. These days, I've been able to lift around 130 pounds on most of those.
As for why I actually bother going with Mom or Dad (depending on the circumstances each day), I only care about staying in some kind of shape, be that keeping my weight down or actually getting stronger. Some days, I end up not going to the gym at all, because I don't have my own membership or even a driver's license. (Used to have one when the gym was open as Ultimate Fitness, before being closed down and renovated into Planet Fitness.) Either way, I think I'm doing a fine job working out, and that's the difference between respect from others and respect for oneself.
-----
Another issue that arose when Mom and I discussed Dad's issues with me, is that I still to this day don't have a job. That's something I already analyzed a year ago, although I've already mentioned since then having given up on JavaScript.
The reason I don't have a job, is because I barely have a clue on how to go on about finding one, especially given how complicated the book mentioned in the hyperlinked entry explains it to be. Obviously, there's more to it than suiting up and submitting applications to different places. DDI was so much more helpful ten years ago, during my first semester in college, than they ever were after I finished college, and that's how I was able to land a job at McDonald's early in '05 while being unable to get even that long after I quit that job.
That book I mentioned? I asked Mom to have a look at it, so that she could help me find employment, and she kept putting it off, being too busy at work, and then wanting to unwind back at home, then having to make dinner, and then just being tired after dinner. Not sure whether I asked her to look into it on any weekends, though, so maybe we could take it out again and see if that works for her.
As of right now, I've been basically coasting on the possibility of landing a job at the library when its main building re-opens in the summer. I've been keeping this book on Dewey Decimal Classification, but have only read a few actual chapters the whole time I've had it due to all kinds of other stuff that I've had to manage.
Mom also asked me to look at the course catalogs for SCCC and BOCES, to see if perhaps I could learn some kind of trade. I might be open to that, although I am not going to take up any kind of woodworking or construction jobs to live on.
Soon as he was done showing me the ropes, he suggested I aim for 500 steps before finding a treadmill to walk on. I made it up to around 316 before getting bored, and he called me over to use the mill next to his. Walked for about four minutes before getting off, and after I refilled my water bottle, he called me over to come leave with him, saying I should go with Mom instead from now on, given how easy I like to take things. I said nothing all ride home while pretty much agreeing with him; he's sick of telling me to take better advantage of the gym instead of sitting down at these tables in the corner, and I'm tired of him telling me how to budget my time.
Back home, I could hear Mom from inside my room asking him what's wrong. She had to ask several times before he finally started ranting about how utterly pathetic I am as a person, and how I don't give a shit about anyone or anything except myself, and how it seems that I'm just gonna mooch off of them and play video games until the day I die. He ranted about how he used to make a living at my age by digging clams, which required a lot of muscle power, while I just mosey along on the treadmill at three miles an hour, and even Brian couldn't so much as operate a pair of clamming tongs when the two of them were out on the catboat. He put so much effort alongside Mom into raising me, and I never bonded with him, I have nothing to show for all the hard work he invested into me, I don't care about making him proud, and so on.
At some point, he told me I'm not coming with him on some planned trip to his family's in Virginia. I said "Fine," and he basically tells Mom "See? He doesn't care." Actually, yes, I thought it would be nice to see them, but I wasn't gonna beg him like some kid to let me come with him.
(He did apologize later for expecting too much from me in the first place. Later still, I asked him whether I should still stay home, and he asked me to come.)
-----
Since this needs to be cleared up, here is what my routine at the gym consists of, and I don't intend to change anything.
1) Walk the treadmill at 3.5 mph for an indeterminate length of time. Depending on how long I can think about whatever's on my mind before tiring out, this can last between less than five minutes to more than half an hour. (Dad once called me out for spending so much time on one that he already finished his workout during the following step.)
2) Take a breather, sit at one of the tables for a short but indeterminate length of time, and just continue thinking about whatever.
3) Time for the weight machines. These days, I've been able to lift around 130 pounds on most of those.
As for why I actually bother going with Mom or Dad (depending on the circumstances each day), I only care about staying in some kind of shape, be that keeping my weight down or actually getting stronger. Some days, I end up not going to the gym at all, because I don't have my own membership or even a driver's license. (Used to have one when the gym was open as Ultimate Fitness, before being closed down and renovated into Planet Fitness.) Either way, I think I'm doing a fine job working out, and that's the difference between respect from others and respect for oneself.
-----
Another issue that arose when Mom and I discussed Dad's issues with me, is that I still to this day don't have a job. That's something I already analyzed a year ago, although I've already mentioned since then having given up on JavaScript.
The reason I don't have a job, is because I barely have a clue on how to go on about finding one, especially given how complicated the book mentioned in the hyperlinked entry explains it to be. Obviously, there's more to it than suiting up and submitting applications to different places. DDI was so much more helpful ten years ago, during my first semester in college, than they ever were after I finished college, and that's how I was able to land a job at McDonald's early in '05 while being unable to get even that long after I quit that job.
That book I mentioned? I asked Mom to have a look at it, so that she could help me find employment, and she kept putting it off, being too busy at work, and then wanting to unwind back at home, then having to make dinner, and then just being tired after dinner. Not sure whether I asked her to look into it on any weekends, though, so maybe we could take it out again and see if that works for her.
As of right now, I've been basically coasting on the possibility of landing a job at the library when its main building re-opens in the summer. I've been keeping this book on Dewey Decimal Classification, but have only read a few actual chapters the whole time I've had it due to all kinds of other stuff that I've had to manage.
Mom also asked me to look at the course catalogs for SCCC and BOCES, to see if perhaps I could learn some kind of trade. I might be open to that, although I am not going to take up any kind of woodworking or construction jobs to live on.