On Hobbies and Indulgences

What do I do when I'm not playing around in Second Life?

Well! I'm glad you didn't ask. For giggles, I'll throw in some other random junk.

I enjoy mopping. There's something cathartic about running it up and down the floor. Plus, when you're done there's a refreshing feel of cleansed flooring. It's a wonderful smell. It is being reborn. And free of skid marks and dirt. And more hygienic. Hard work but rewarding.

I take hideous amounts of time during any given meal. It's not that I eat a lot, but I believe that one should take the time to enjoy the flavor, the smell, the environment, and company. After a long day of running around the rat maze, I love to sit down with friends and family and others I tolerate. The refreshing break is something I love to squeeze in whenever possible, from lunch to dinner to sometimes breakfast (I am perpetually late so I almost never have a 'true' breakfast).

It is saddening to think that all too often people shovel things down like hog slop. The chefs (or whoever is preparing the food) usually take the time and care to ensure that everything is cooked and prepared properly and in a wonderful fashion. We walk in, and it's wam bam and gone. It seems that, at least among the people I hang out with, meals are nothing more than a twenty minute period during which simple hunger is satisfied with no interaction. In other words, just a means to an ends or an obstacle eating up potential free time.

I find mechanical drafting utterly fascinating. AutoCAD is out there and steamlines many things but taking a straightedge and a pencil and making exacting and detailed plans and images of almost everything. The last time I took a course in it was freshman year and unfortunately I've never had the time to go further. What a shame. I can't draw much otherwise freehandedly, and I've never understood why. Perplexing.

Actually, I can doodle a fairly disturbing picture of a human arm boiling away as it touches an extremely hot source. A visit to a psychiatrist is probably in order.

I'd have loved to be a pilot. I love things that fly. Birds, planes, rockets, shit, pigs. Just drifting across the sky and watching everything and everyone race around on the ground. Or, if on a rocket, watching everyone on the hemisphere you can observe. And of course, zipping about in three dimensions. I'm sure this particular fascination has actually been brought up several times, so this isn't exactly news.

For many many multitudes of reasons, the possibility of me earning a pilot's license is on par with the possibility of Jesus coming down from heaven and declaring He loves Slim Jims. And I lack the patience to invest and fly model airplanes and such. I do have a copy of Microsoft Flight Simulator although I am certain it is not normal to fly a Cessna with a keyboard. If so, I am so qualified.

I like honeydews and other melons. You cannot deny they are tasty.

Once I tried to bake bread. It came out horrible. Bakers have my respect.

When the weather is nice and clear, I take frequent walks around anywhere. Looking around and witnessing the surroundings when you're not shuttling between point A and B in a car or bus. Probably more than a bit foolhardy on my part, but it's a fascinating experience. Even better when you get friends to tag along. You might even learn a few things about them.

Like one who told me in hushed whispers that we had to be careful around the 'urban people' while walking from the El to the local Pepboys for some thing or another that has escaped my mind. 'Urban people'? That label only applies to 1.4 million people in this city alone. Let's clear the air and admit what you really meant: African Americans.

The other conclusion is ridiculous, that all urban people are scary and should be treated with caution. I find it ridiculous since I am one of those urban people having been born and breed here. But I guess I was the special exception. Not to suggest that caution should be thrown to the wind, but to feel threatened on Market Street, one of the main thoroughfares in the city, is ridiculous and the chances of anything significant happening are only slighter higher than my chances at being a pilot. Probably the same chances as getting victimized in Times Square. That's a topic for another day.

I can't think of anything else off the top of the head. So I think I will let this topic rest for a while. Enjoy.