Waking up bright and early (Conclusion)

Woke up and was downstairs at 4:50am. Caught ten minutes of the pre-game intro and then watched as Canada scored an excellent goal thirty-some seconds into the game. And then watched as Canada played terribly for the first half and were very lucky to get to the break still up 1-0. If I ever meet Canadian goalkeeper Erin McLeod, I'll buy her a beverage of her choice after her performance today.

They gave up a goal at the start of the second half (which McLeod was inches from saving). Then they finally woke up. The way they started playing, I just knew that they would get ahead again, and when the ball was directed to Christine Sinclair's head in the 85th minute, I knew it was going into the net before she touched it. Canada up 2-1!

Minutes later, disaster. They just had to hold on for the three minutes of injury time but Australia was too strong up front (and Canada's defense looked really slow, as they did in the game against Ghana). As surely as I knew Sinclair would get them ahead again, I knew that Canada was about to lose the lead when Australia burst into the left of the penalty area.

So it was a bit of a frustating experience, but at least the game was entertaining right until the very end.

The bonus of waking up so early is that I had time to do two sets of exercises instead of just one, freeing up a bit more time this evening for me to watch the Ontario leaders' debate and go to the gym for some time on the stationary bike.

(no subject)

He remembered the time he had hooked one of a pair of marlin. The male fish always let the female fish feed first and the hooked fish, the female, made a wild, panic-stricken, despairing fight that soon exhausted her, and all the time the male had stayed with her, crossing the line and circling with her on the surface. He had stayed so close that the old man was afraid he would cut the line with his tail which was sharp as a scythe an almost of that size and shape. When the old man had gaffed her and clubbed her, holding the rapier bill with its sandpaper edge and clubbing her across the top of her head until her colour turned to a colour almost like the backing of mirrors, and then, with the boy's aid, hoisted her aboard, the male fish had stayed by the side of the boat. Then, while the old man was clearing the lines and preparing the harpoon, the male fish jumped high into the air beside the boat to see where the female was and then went down deep, his lavender wings, that were his pectoral fins, spread wide and all his wide lavender stripes showing. He was beautiful, the old man remembered, and he had stayed.

-- From The Old Man and the Sea, by Ernest Hemingway

(no subject)

Finished Beyond Freedom and Dignity and picked up The Final Days by Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein, their follow-up to All the President's Men. I'm about 50 pages in and it is so incredibly satisfying, especially after my last two terrible books.

Also of note, Shadow of the Giant, Orson Scott Card's latest in the Shadow series, was finally released in paperback format, so I have added that the The Pile, too. I'm hoping that this is the last of these books as Card generally keeps a series alive when he really should just leave it alone (you couldn't just leave it at Speaker for the Dead, could you Orson?).

In Meat Space news, I'm starting to get psyched for Tuesday. That's the day I have picked for my trial day for biking to work (and back again at night). It's supposed to be sunny with a high of 17 degrees (low of 3 in the morning), which sounds ideal. Hopefully high winds won't be an issue.

Can't Sleep

It's past midnight now and I'm nowhere close to sleeping yet. Reading was slow this weekend. I read quite a few more poems of Robert Burns (almost halfway through his life's work), but Walden Two is more boring than controversial so far (barely 60 pages in). It has an Ayn Rand feel to the narration (except it's in the first person), although maybe that was just the style at the time. Skinner seems convinced that people don't know what to do with themselves, therefore the ideal mindless automatons. He misrepresents politics and industry, leading me to believe that he had little understanding of either. All this in 60 pages. I find it curious that it was published in 1948, the same year that Orwell was writing 1984. Some say that the major conflict of the 20th century was that of democracy versus totalitarianism - Orwell versus Skinner would be a good representation.

Made it to the gym this morning, and with daylight savings time in effect it was pretty empty. There were only two of us, and the other guy was on the treadmill leaving the weight machines all to me. I'm proud to have made it this morning because the (relatively) nice weather has encouraged me to bike more, which feels like enough exercise for me (and more productive). I biked to the Canadian War Museum on Sunday to catch the exhibit on wartime propaganda, which expires in a month's time. I also checked out the two sections that I had not yet visited.

Other than that, I'm just working. The pace has increased a bit at my job and I'm really getting into it, more than I ever have since I started a year and half ago. Still trying to figure out what I want to do when I grow up, though.