Weighting

'Weighting' isn't just a clever play on words. 'Weighting' has many definitions, but I'm just going to concentrate on 2 of them. As defined in the dictionary, there's the obvious; 'an object used or useful solely because of its heaviness: the weights of a clock' & then there's the not so obvious; 'importance, moment, consequence, or effective influence: an opinion of great weight.'

Recently I started lifting weights again. I have a timed goal for an obstacle course that I have to make in 2 weeks for a potential job(I can't say for what right now, but let's just say that I'm trying to think outside-of-the-box!). I did a practice run 2 weeks ago & came to the distinct realization that I'm getting older & might have lost a step or 2. Being the vain bastard that I am(I will fight this aging conundrum to my dying breath!) & wanting to pass said obstacle course, I decided to get back to my roots as far as working out was concerned & that involved weights.

I've been lifting weights since I was about 12 years old. I initially wanted to just get big & strong, but this fascination turned into an outlet of obsession for the majority of my youth. Within a couple of years, I had outgrown my father's mini-gym in our laundry room & graduated to a small, locally run gym just outside of town. The gym was an old garage fitted with enough free weights, rusted benches & lat-pull down machines to be dangerous. Kind of like an underground, after-hours bar that you had to seek out. It looked more like a condemned building than a gym, but for me it was perfect. What really made this gym interesting though were the clientele. The average age was between 20-60 & most of these guys were extremely crude, salt-of-the-earth type dudes. They said fuck & shit alot & constantly spoke of women & their most recent sexual conquests. I guess you could say that's where I gained a portion of my colorful vernacular & an even keener eduaction of female anatomy. The craziest bastard that worked out there(I can't even remember his name.) was this tattooed, bald-headed guy that used to flog himself with a chain until he bled. Only then would he start his workout!

Flashforward to present day & I'm @ my local gym bench pressing free weights for the 1st time in over a year. Gripping the cold iron bar in my hands, I'm reminded why lifting weights has such an appeal. Weights don't let you down. Weights don't talk back. Weights don't leave you. Weights don't break promises. Weights don't lie. Weights do push back though & allow you to vent & let you get out of them whatever you want to @ that point in time.

I took another interview this morning(Thankfully better than the last one!) with a head-hunter & she said that she'd try to help me out, but many of the open jobs recently dried up because of the holidays. Sigh, I can't even get fucking fired during the right time of year! It seems increasingly clear that the more resumes I send out, the less responses come back. The corporate world might not want me back & I'm not even sure if I want to go back. You'd think that I would feel some added pressure to find a new job & fall back in line, but I don't. This whole experience has been extremely theraputic, but even more freeing. This is the most freedom that I've felt in a very long time. I guess that it was my wake-up call. Start living & stop worrying so fucking much. Crazy, bald, tattooed, weight-lifter guy used to tell me that the only things that really mattered in life was 'weighting, fucking & boozing.' Well fucking & boozing are fine & good, but I'm looking for more. I need to find a new path. I'm 'weighting.'