[Rules: Book(s) must be fiction. Can only use once.]

Books next to your bed right now: World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War, by Max Brooks; The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, by Stieg Larsson; Fragile Things, by Neil Gaiman and American Lightning, by Howard Blum.
Favorite series: Loved Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials trilogy, if that counts. The Chaos Walking trilogy by Patrick Ness was great too.
Favorite book:  Changes with my mood, but The Sirens of Titan by Kurt Vonnegut is always up there.
The one book you would have with you if stranded on a desert island: Infinite Jest, by David Foster Wallace, because I can’t seem to make it through that beast, and if nothing else it would make good fire.
Book/series you would take with you on a long flight: anything by Carl Hiaasan. He’s great airplane reading.
Worst book you were made to read in school: A Separate Peace, by John Knowles. For some reason, I just hated that book.
Book that everyone should be made to read in school:  A Fine Balance, by Rohinton Mistry.
Book that everyone should read, period:  (Answer stolen from Jeff, because I agree, although I changed the date range to include The Sirens of Titan): anything by Kurt Vonnegut published between 1959 - 1969 (Mother Night, Cat's Cradle, God Bless You Mr. Rosewater, Slaughterhouse Five)
Favorite character:  John Haywood in The Rain and the Fire and the Will of God, by Donald Wetzel.
Best villain:  Not sure this counts, but The Man of Many Faces (an incarnation of the devil) in Swan Song, by Robert R. McCammon
Favorite concept series:  none?
Favorite invented world:  Centrifugal Bumble-Puppy, from Brave New World.
Most beautifully written book:  I don’t know if this is the most beautifully written book, but it was one that came to mind. The Shadow of the Wind, by Carlos Ruiz Zafon.
Funniest book:  You Suck, by Christopher Moore. Again, don’t know if it’s the funniest, but it’s the first one to pop in my head.

When I was in third grade, our teacher asked us to create a flow chart entitled “how to make your bed.” Unlike the rest of my classmates, my flowchart informed you how to make (read: construct) a bed. It involved 2X4s and hammers and other items you’d need to literally make your bed. I know, I was a dork.

That was a literal interpretation of something. However, if you were to study pragmatics (which I did, once upon a time), you’d be annoyed by the word literally, because usually when someone uses it they mean the opposite. For example, I literally ate a horse, with few exceptions does not mean that the person actually ate a horse.

Of course, as usage changes, so does language. Now the meaning of literally also includes virtually, to indicate emphasis. I’m literally annoyed by this.

There also used to be a difference between envy and jealousy. Envy was when you wished you had something someone else had. Jealousy was when you were afraid someone was going to take something you had. Now, jealousy encompasses envy, because more people than not started using jealousy to mean envy (I’m so jealous of your cute outfit!) that the definition had to change. I’m literally annoyed by this, too.

You see, I love words. Occasionally, I misuse them, and when I do, I hang my head in shame. But mostly I try to use them well, with love and affection, and true to their intentions. When definitions change because people get lazy, I’m not just annoyed, I’m a little sad as well. I fear that day when the only descriptive words we have left are (that's) cool and (that) sucks.

When that day arrives, I'm literally going mute.

I set out to write a post about frustration, of which I’ve been feeling a lot lately. These frustrations, with work, with things at home, with life in general, have been reaching a critical mass internally. Of most importance is the frustration over all the variables of which I have so little control. Or so I thought.

I was going to compare all of this to running, because running seems to be the only place I can satisfy my frustration and meet my goals anymore.  I want to run, so I train. I pick an event, and I train to meet the distance I need for that event. But that’s the fun thing about running – you depend only on yourself. It’s really a solitary sport. Sure, you can choose to race against others, but in the end your primary opponent is you.  The only real variables are your own physical and mental limits.

I was going to mention that my other goals were not so simple, the opponents not so well understood, the variables not so easy to control.  I was going to.

But then I thought about Jeff’s post and the limits of the known world and I realized something. It’s exactly that simple.  What I’m frustrated with is not all these uncontrollable variables, not the economy, not difficult relationships, not limited job opportunities, but rather my own inability to step beyond the limits of the known world. It’s a scary place out there, isn’t it? I mean, we saw the pictures – look at what happened to Jeff! I could fail, FAIL, or be eaten by a sea monster. Anything’s possible. But in the end, it’s probably better to step into unknown lands and discover new things, both about yourself and the world around you, than it is to pull your hair out in frustration and lament those limits. Is it not?

We’ll see. I think for now I’ll take some time to ponder where the limits of that known world really lie and what world I might be hoping to find beyond them. As I do, I think it will help me to realize that life is not so unlike running. In the end, it’s a pretty solitary endeavor. You just have to decide where you want to go.

This pen holder makes me laugh. I know, a bit on the macabre side, but I can’t help it. I tell my volunteers that the pen represents our organization and the body represents cancer, but really, I just have a sick sense of humor. I’ve read too many crime novels not to own this. Anyone who really knows me would get that.

And I had hoped to write something more interesting today, but this is all that came out. I think I need a vacation.

Have a good weekend, y'all.

Yes, you.

You should know I miss you.

I realize I’m not around here much, but it seems I've lost my words, which I need if I'm to spend any time around these parts (or anywhere communicate-y, for that matter).

Regardless, I’d still like to hear from you. How the hell are you, anyway? Fanfuckingtastic, right? I’m sure you are.

I would be too, if it wasn’t for the damned aliens.

Check protected postings.

Please forgive me, but if I don't know your real name, you may have to knock twice and promise to name your first child after me.

When it comes to reconnecting with old friends, whether it’s on Facebook or after running into them in a grocery store, I’ve noticed an interesting trend. Everyone is always fanfuckingtastic. Great jobs, happy families, smelling roses every morning as they walk their well adjusted pooch. The norm seems to be that you should immediately convey how absolutely satisfied you are with life.  And maybe everyone is. And maybe it’s a good thing – all this positive energy just floating about.  And maybe it’s a character flaw that I’m so thoroughly bored by the whole process. But I am. I’d rather hear some interesting stuff, see some cracks in the teacup, something that makes me feel like I’m talking to the human being I once knew and not just someone trying to prove that, yes indeedy, I’m fanfuckingtastic.

I don’t know why, but there’s something about the whole thing that just feels. . .icky. Inauthentic.

Maybe I’m just in a bad mood. Just the fact that I’d like to see some salt in the mix probably makes me weird. And what do I really expect from people? Do I really want them to convey that life is, well, life? Maybe not. I dunno.

Whatever the case, I think next time I talk to someone I haven’t spoken to in a while, I’m going to mix it up a bit. Maybe I’ll even make something up. Yes, I’ll say, things are lovely, but I can’t sleep at night because of the aliens. I am just sooo tired of all the anal probes! Ziborph is nice though. I think he fancies me.

 If nothing else, at least the conversation that follows will be more interesting.

gets you where you want to go. Or at least that’s my mantra these days. Ahead of me, there are more footfalls than I can see clearly from my current perspective. But I’m not worried. I’m learning many skills from running, including patience and determination. I know where I need to go from here. The puzzle I need to solve now is which path will get me there. . .uninjured.

I need to register for a new race, but I haven’t yet decided which one I want to do. San Diego? San Antonio? Something closer? Something much farther away? Of course, that’s the easy one. I need a new career, and that one's going to be harder to solve. I have about three more decades of work ahead of me (assuming there is a such thing as retirement when it’s my turn) and I know I don’t want to be doing what I am now for much longer. In fact, the end of this current career is so close I can taste it. Stick a fork in me. I’m done. So, now what?

And there is more, much more, up ahead, past those trees and over that mountain. I have great expectations for this new brand of efficacy I’ve discovered. Maybe more than is realistic. Maybe.

Whatever the case, I’m not worried. I’m moving in the direction I need to go, and right now, that’s all that matters. One foot in front of the other. Right?

• Last Wednesday I had my dreaded surgery, but it went well. I was starting to freak out a little, then the anesthesiologist came in and told me he was giving me something that would make me forget everything after, and I did. I have no memory of anything surgical! Yay! Yay for the awesome anesthesiologist!
• I am way too excited about the awesomeness of my anesthesiologist.
• It is so past time to get a new job. New job search beginning in 5, 4, 3, 2, NOW. Seriously. This time I mean it. I am.
• I miss running. In one more week I can run again and I am almost dying in anticipation of that date. Which I’m pretty sure makes me crazy.
• I chopped almost all of my hair off. Well I didn’t, but a hairdresser did. At first I wasn’t sure how I felt about the new cut, but then a good friend told me I looked like a movie star and now I’m totally sold on it. Unless that movie star is Vin Diesel. Eh, either way I’ll probably grow it out again soon, but in the meantime, I’m totally living it up in the lime light. Of my office.
• This post is boring and trite. Sorry, y’all. At least I’m not a murderer, right?

Come to the party later this week to find out. Until then, check out the list of suspects.

Now, while I don't know for certain whether or not I've committed patricide, I can report I had a dandy of a time volunteering for this year's P.F. Chang's Rock 'N Roll Marathon in Tempe. I went to the event intending only to observe my colleague's running group, but got there too early and, rather than walk around alone in the cold and dark, decided to volunteer for the larger event. After unwrapping countless medals, unsheathing what felt like thousands of mylar blankets and chatting about underwear factories (long story) with other volunteers, I can say I have a new respect for what it takes to put on one of these things. I walked away with cold fingers, a cute t-shirt and the insight I needed to begin working on my own event back home. So, yay!

I guess the only question left is, do I have it in me to off the old man? Wait and see, my friends.