PenteKing’s BodyBlog

Why are there so many angry people in the world? If everyone would just lighten up a little, things would progress so much more smoothly. Human beings were not meant to fret and worry. If you want proof of that assertion, just take a look at someone who is perpetually grumpy. Let’s face it; they’re ugly. They have frown lines on their forehead, and around their eyes and mouth. Their necks are ridged with tensed muscles. When they walk, they shuffle. Grumpy people always look five to ten years older than they atually are.

Cheerful people, on the other hand, look youthful. They have a light in their eyes that is welcoming and attractive. They have an aura of warmth and friendliness about them. There’s a bounce to their step when they walk. People smile at them because they invite human interaction. Let’s face it - there’s no comparison. Give me happy any day of the week. In that vein, here are a smattering of quotes about laughter and the human condition.

·         The sound of laughter is like the vaulted dome of a temple of happiness – Milan Kundera

·         It’s possible to forgive someone a great deal if he makes you laugh. – Caroline Llewellyn

·         To be playful is not to be trivial or frivolous, or to act as if nothing of consequence will happen. On the contrary, when we are playful with one another, we relate as free persons, and the relationship is open to surprise; everything that happens is of consequence. – James Carse

·         I am thankful for laughter; except when milk comes out of my nose. – Woody Allen

·         I don’t think that the comic and the serious can be separated in talking about the human condition. It’s like trying to separate hydrogen and oxygen and still be talking about water. – Peter De Vries

·         Comedy is when you accidentally fall off a cliff and die; tragedy is when I have a hangnail. – Mel Brooks.

·         Laughter springs from the lawless part of our nature. – Agnes Repplier

·         Common sense and a sense of humor are the same thing, moving at different speeds. A sense of humor is just common sense, dancing. – William James

·         The art of the clown is more profound than we think; it is neither tragic nor comic. It is the comic mirror of tragedy and the tragic mirror of comedy. – Andre Suares.

·         Back of the sun and way deep under our feet, at the earth’s center, are not a couple of noble mysteries or the Bible or the Koran, but a couple of joke books. – Tennessee Williams

·         A good laugh is as good as prayer sometimes. – L. M. Montgomery

·         God is a comedian, playing to an audience that’s too frightened to laugh. – Anon.

According to Webster’s Third International Dictionary (BTW, when do you suppose they’ll publish a Fourth edition?) the definition of a nome de plum is: "a pen name; nome de plum or literary double, is a pseudonym adopted by an author or their publishers to conceal their identity." In those parts of the world where expressing one’s opinion can result in serious jail time (or worse) the use of a nome de plum is de rigueur (necessary according to etiquette, protocol or fashion). Under those circumstances, concealing one’s identity is literally a matter of life or death. Here on the Bodybuilding web site, the use of nome de plums takes on an entirely different perspective. Some folks, I’ll warrant, truly want to conceal their identities. I believe those folks fear rebuke or riducle. Some may be fearful of losing their jobs. (In my opinion, though, if you feared losing your job because of something you posted on Bodybuilding.com, then you are working for the wrong employer.) Others, however, (and I believe this comprises the vast majority) simply wish to append a title to themselves that speaks to their inner being.

My Bodybuilding.com name for example speaks to my love and fascination for the game "Pente". An offshot of the Asian game, "Go", Pente is played on board on which a grid of 19 x 19 lines has been drawn. Players take turns playing stones on the intersections of the lines. The first player to place five (penta) stones in a row, or who has captured five pairs of his opponent’s stones, is the winner. The game was quite popular in the 80’s. It is easy to learn, fast to play, and yet has the same level of skill and tactics found in chess. I was very, very good at this game. In fact, I placed high enough in the rankings to compete in the tournament to crown the world’s Pente champion. Sadly, a combination of factors (some professional, most largely personal) prevented me from realizing my dream. But I have no doubt that had I devoted the necessary time and energy to the game, I could have been champ. My Bodybuilding nome de plum is a memory and tribute to the game that I once loved and played so well.

Why have you chosen the particular name that graces your Body Space page? Regale us with your story. I’d love to hear it.

I had forgotten how hard it is to be out of work. So much of what we do on a day-to-day basis revolves around our job. Our daily routine; our relationships; how we feel about ourselves and our place in the world; they all revolve around what you do for work. Whether you love or hate what you do, it has a definite affect on your mind and attitude. Now that I’m out of work, all of those memories have come flooding back - and this time in spades.

Looking for work is harder than actually working. When employed, you have times during the day when you can relax. You can close the door to your office; you can ignore the ringing telephone; you can take a long lunch. All of those activities are denied you when you’re looking for a job. From the time you arise in the morning until the time you go to bed at night, the thought of finding gainful employment is at the forefront of your brain. It colors everything you do. You polish up the resume; you contact headhunters; you ring up old friends and acquaintances. You shine the shoes, press the suit, put on a smile and go on interview after interview. Or worse, you send your resume out, and you hear nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. That is the part that I hate the worst. The dead silence. It’s the most nerve-racking thing about the process. The waiting. It’s a quiet killer. After a while, you wonder if you’ll ever find a job again. And then you begin to wonder what you’ll do; how you’ll live; where you’ll end up. It’s a killer, and the worst part of all, is you have to do it alone.

What follows is a small sampling of the music on my iPod. These are the tunes that I like to listen to while working out. I have several playlists, depending upon the day’s mood. When I’m energized and raring to go, I prefer 70’s disco music. When I have to (literally) drag my sorry butt to the gym, I find that I tend toward 80’s music. When spinning, of course I crank up those tunes that get my legs moving. Amazing invention, the iPod. Kudos to the boys and girls who created the device. Now if they could only come up with wireless ear phones. Oh well; you can’t have everything, I suppose. What are you listening to?

I was recently laid off from my job, so have had quite a bit of time to think and reflect on the decisions I’ve made, my life’s path (thus far) and what I want to do with the rest of my life. If I’m frugal, I have enough money to last about five or six months. I should be able to find another job in that time span (if the economy and Fate both lend a helping hand), but the real question is - what kind of a job do I want?

Do I really want to return to the 9-to-5 grind, working my tail off for somebody else’s benefit? Or do I want to dial down my lifestyle and find an occupation which may not be as lucrative as my past career, but will give me a sense of accomplishment and true happiness? Lately, I’ve been leaning more to the latter than to the former. My friends tell me that I’m probably just licking my wounds because of being laid off, but I think it’s more than that. I haven’t been truly happy for a very long time now, and I suspect my dissatisfaction has a lot to do with how I earn my crust. I’m good at what I do, but it’s not very satisfying to me.

I could do volunteer work, but I suspect it will not pay the bills. Given the anemic state of my 401(k) plan, I know I’ll have to find gainful employment, but doing what? If any of you have been through something like this recently, I’d be very interested in hearing your thoughts, suggestions and observations. I’m at a crossroads, with no idea which path to follow. Any and all advice will be gratefully accepted.

This coming June will mark my third (!) year as a Bodybuilding.com member. My, my, my, how time flies. It seems like only yesterday that I stumbled across this site, and decided to join. I lurked around for a week or two before finally taking the plunge, but once I did, there was never a moment’s regret. I’ve been constantly motivated by the articles and people who inhabit this web site. I’ve followed the progress of several members, and have even communicated with one or two of them. It’s funny, but in many ways, I feel as though I know them better than some other people who I’ve known for much longer periods of time. There’s something about sharing a common bond that brings people together. And bodybuilding is the closest community of all.

Keep lifting the heavy iron. With every rep, you are making yourself a better person. That is something of which you can be justifably proud.

Woolworth store, I got complaint
About one can of ten cent paint
My wife she buy from your damn store
And now, by gosh, I’m good and sore.
You see, late last week, the spring, she come
And everything was on the bum
The walls, the floors, the windows too
Were dirt like hell, I’m telling you.
Now my wife is clean and neat
So she buy paint for toilet seat
And for one whole week we watch with eye
But that damn paint, it no get dry.
Now, my wife ain’t tall; my wife ain’t fat
But on her bottom, where she sat
She now got ring complete
From where she sit on toilet seat
I say to her, "It serves you right"
For try to be so Goddamn tight
That ten cent paint, she ain’t no good;
She won’t dry on no damn wood.”
My daughter, Lisa, get ring around
When on the seat she sit down.
For one whole week, we cramp and wait,
And now we all get constipate.
Lordy, we don’t know what to do
You got to eat and some go through
My wife she sit right down and cry
‘Cause your damn paint, it don’t get dry
My wife got sister named Marie,
Who lives in house with wife and me.
Last night, I look where she sat down
And there, by gosh, was a ring around.
I try to wipe with turpentine.
She howl like wolf, she lose her mind.
I’m scared like hell for half a day.
The skin come off, the paint she stays.
I live long time and never see
A man what get as damn mad as me.
And when I think about that ten cent paint
I get so mad I almost faint.
So, Woolworth store, I now ask you.
What the hell we gonna do?
That toilet seat, it don’t get dry
And if bowels don’t move, we all could die.

Now don’t you think we got complaint?
For buy from you that gosh darn paint
I got the bill, I got the sack
But the paint we use, we can’t bring back
So Woolworth store, I beg repeat
How can house be nice and neat,
When the paint don’t dry on toilet seat?
 

Yesterday, I went for a bike ride with my partner, Julie. We both wanted to put in a couple of hours, climbing hills (a notorious weakness of mine). So, I dutifully saddled up, and biked over to her house (about 2 miles from me). We then proceeded to attack a couple of hills. So far, so good, and no problems. Then we decided to take spin around Fiesta Island. This spot is perfect because it forms nearly a perfect five-mile oval, with a headwind on the back end of the road that really makes you work. Julie and I were clocking along at about 18 - 19 miles an hour and feeling pretty good. We knocked off after that, and went our respective ways.

Upon returning home, I sat down, did some letter writing and networking (have to find a new job). When I went to get up, my entire back seized on me. Lordy, lordy, lordy, did it ever take me by surprise. Have you ever had one of those back spasms so intense that it dropped you to your knees? That’s how it was with me. At that point, my only option was to hobble (and I do mean hobble) over to the medicine cabinet, down two muscle relaxers, and retire to bed. I slept most of the day, but in a fitful way, being unable to toss and turn the way I normally do.

I’m better today, but nowhere near to being back to normal. I can walk, but bending over or twisting to the side is agony. Julie says its my body’s way of reacting to the stress of being laid off. I say it was that damn speed trial on Fiesta Island. Not that it matters which one is really the culprit. What does matter is getting back to my old self. Wish me luck, fellow bodybuilders, and say a prayer for my recovery.

I got laid off from work, my rent is due

My kids all need brand-new shoes

So I went to the bank to see what they could do

They say, “Son, looks like bad luck’s got a hold of you.”

Money’s too tight to mention.

I can’t get an unemployment extension

I called up my brother to see what he could do

He said, “Brother, I’d like to help you, but I’m unable to

So I went to my father, oh, my father

He said, “Money’s too tight to mention.”

Oh, money, money, money

I can’t even qualify for my pension

Money’s too tight to mention

We’re talking about money, money

We’re talking about money, money

We’re talking about money, money

We’re talking about money, money

What are we all to do?

When money’s got a hold on you?

Money’s too tight to mention

With apologies to Simply Red for appropriating their lyrics, but it seemed like the thing to do, because I’ve been laid off from work.

One would think, in this day and age, that all of the misconceptions and misinformation about female bodybuilding would be a thing of the past. Sadly, that is not the case. Today, while working out in the gym (way earlier than usual because I recently lost my job), I got into a rather heated discussion with two other gym members who thought that a female member (who I know very well) was "too masculine".

Normally, I would ignore jerks like this because talking to them has the same effect as talking to the rug. (In fact, sometimes you get a better reaction from the rug.) But what they said rankled me. Fabiana is a good friend of mine, and an occasional lifting partner. I know how strenuously she diets, and how hard she works to build a world-class physique. Her grit and determination are characteristics anyone would be proud to emulate. I consider her my friend. So when these two pissants started making snide comments, I lit into them. The exchange got so heated that the on-duty manager felt compelled to intervene and asked us to take the conversation outside. Wisely, I chose not to do so. (Two against one is never a good idea, especially if you’re on the receiving end.) I put the lid on my temper, plugged in my iPod and continued my workout. The two jomokes, after some muted grumbling, left the gym. Fabiana, who had heard from the manager what the altercation was about, came over to thank me for sticking up for her. I will tell you what I told her.

In the animal kingdom, no one would look at the female of the species and consider them to be "too masculine", no matter how well- or strongly-built they were. Lionesses are every bit as fast and powerful as their male counterparts, and if not for the mane around the male’s neck, you could probably not tell them apart. And it is a fact that the lioness does the lion’s share (poor joke) of the hunting for the pride. Is that consider "masculine"? I think not.

Female bodybuilders should be admired. They work long and hard to sculpt their bodies into works of art. They are justifiably proud of their strength and prowress - as well they should be. I suspect that most men who deride female bodybuilders are either afraid of, or secretly envy them. They aren’t secure enough in their own masculinity to accept the fact that women can be every bit as powerful and self-sufficient as any man. If that’s the case, grow up. Female bodybuilders are here to stay, and here is one man who is damned glad of it.