I love Calvin and Hobbes.

Calvin. Such a crazy imagination. Daydreaming that he’s spaceman spiff exploring the galaxy and fighting aliens when the truth is, he’s stuck at his desk in school, bored out of his mind because school is… Boring.

I don’t know what other people would daydream about but mine are always about flying. Not like in a jumbo jet or an F22 or even a spaceship. Like Superman. To soar in the air defying the laws of gravity. To be able to go anywhere at all, at anytime at all. Instead of getting into a car, you simply will yourself off the ground, speed through the air, into the clouds, dart in between buildings, avoiding the occasional bird or power lines, laughing at the people in their offices who are so absorbed with their jobs and so bound by the hardship of life that they don’t even bother to look outside their windows.

Remember the movie Hook, when Peter found his happy thought again and once again flew around never land, the glee so evident on his face.

As we get older, it becomes harder and harder to use your imagination. Life happens. You get told that you can’t act certain ways in public. In school your imagination is quelled. Your creativity gets stifled. You may argue that you are taught arts and crafts to contend my point, but growing up and if you suck at painting or putting glue and glitter on paper, do you get a failing grade? No you don’t. But you can fail math. You can fail English.

Schools are designed to make you a certain way. Thank God that now there are specialty schools where you can focus on what you want to do.

Not everyone is book smart. Not everyone is meant to be a doctor or a lawyer. If students fail certain subjects, does that mean they’re stupid? Our school system surely make them feel that way, but what if their genius lies elsewhere? What if their true calling lies in the secondary subjects taught in middle school?

Schools teach generic lessons to students who are anything BUT generic.

School works for most people. But what happens to the others?

Schools are factories trying to mass produce specific products but the end results are snowflakes. And they should be treated as such.

Don’t punish the dreamers. We change the world.

I Need to Lose Fat.

Okay. I think everyone is familiar with the joke, “I love my abs so much I protected them with a layer of fat.”

I’m 30. The fat ain’t burning itself and my calorie intake is greater than what my body burns.

I decided that starting today, I’m going to try and run at least every other day, and each time, go further and/or burn more calories than the last time.

So I laced up my shoes, made a beeline for the street, warmed up a little bit, pretended to stretch a little bit, started at a brisk walk.

Now even if I don’t work out regularly, jogging shouldn’t be that hard right? I mean, I play basketball at least once a week, jogging should be a piece of cake.

After 10-15 seconds of brisk walking, I get bored and decide to go faster.

My heart starts pounding, breathing gets harder, and I’m thinking, “yeah this isn’t hard at all”.

First my thighs start burning, and I can almost hear them laughing at me. Then my calves join in, but I grit my teeth and soldier on until I feel I can’t take it anymore, pushing myself as hard as I can.

When I check the time, I’m 2 minutes 48 seconds into my run.

Now let me explain something, I love working out. I love weights, I like sports even if sports don’t like me. But I hate cardio. To me it’s… Blah. Boring. But I need to burn calories so I’ll try almost anything. I’m even giving up rice except on Sundays because Sunday is Saboten day. Ok ok I’m getting sidetracked.

So I check the time, and my first instinct is to go back home. I look at how many calories I burned and it said 20. I had a zinger with cheese for lunch. That’s around 300 calories at least! If I wanted to burn it I would have to maintain that first pace for maybe another 15 minutes?

I could do that, but then I would have to be running straight to the nearest hospital to save time, and it would be more convenient as I would most likely be needing medical attention.

I’m about to turn around and walk back home and I’m thinking to myself, “I got dressed for this and I’m going to quit after 3 minutes??”

Begrudgingly I tell myself to keep going, even if I mix jogging and walking, the fat sure ain’t burning itself, and if I don’t do it no one else will.

And so ends my first ever jog, the next time will be better, as the only one I have to beat is myself, and right now the bar is pretty low.

Tomorrow will be better. It always is.