Mrs. Dave is enjoying sunsets over wine-dark seas. Dave is ruthlessly culling The Stuff. The Wee Horde rampage. I have two small goals for today. The first is to clear the table of excess stuff, and then shrink it. The fewer flat surfaces there are to collect more Stuff, the less clutter will be to make my eyelid twitch. The second, and arguably more vital to my personals barbaric goals is to clear a lane in the garage so I can lay out the battle rope. I’m nearly there, already. Just have about twelve cubic feet of stuff to shift.
I’m feeling philosophical today, my barbrethren. I spent yesterday sorting and reorganizing the garage while Mrs. Dave helped some friends conquer a neighboring village move house temporarily. Consequently, I got a peek at the past. Which, as Mum says, is a different country, and besides, the wench is dead. I’m not really clear on that last part, but contextually, it seems to fit. Continue reading “Dave Goes Barbarian: Where Lies End and Truth Begins”
Hello, my barbaric brethren (and sistren)! It’s another Friday, and we find ourselves here, once again, together. The fire burns, the skulls of our enemies are top-filled with libations, and meat roasts on a spit.
I’ve spent a fair bit of time talking about being a Barbarian. That, in a lot of people’s minds, has a fairly distinct definition. While I’ve tried to define it my own way, it’s still based on what the term means in most people’s minds.
But then I join a HEMA group that espouses chivalric values. It’s made me take a step back and think about what each of those terms means, at least to me, and decide if they’re in conflict and how I’d deal with it they were.
Hey, Barbs. Mrs. Dave gets home tomorrow, and everything changes. Again. Always. Until the next time. You see, we’ve just about gotten settled into a routine, here at Caer Dave. It’s not the greatest, and there are some things I’d *really* like to change about it. Forex, the Wee Horde needs to start getting into bed earlier, so they can get up earlier and not make my morning a pit of stress and frustration. Continue reading “Dave Goes Barbarian – Rhythms”
I’ve been stuck. You see, I’ve been working at what weight loss for a while. I’m still brand, spanking new at HEMA. I’m in a weird place right now where I’m all, “What the hell am I supposed to write?”
It also hasn’t helped that I’ve been dealing with some personal stuff for the last several weeks on top of everything else. Plus, I needed to write here.
But, as I’ve said, I didn’t really know what to write. That’s because when your mind, body, or spirit aren’t working as they should, you’re just not productive.
Yeah, you in the back holding the banner dripping with the blood of your enemies. Sit down. Seriously. There’s a time and a place.
No, that headline is *not* a joke. I bring it up because I’m late with my column. Again. While twice can be coincidence, I’m not thrilled with the emerging pattern, as I imagine Tom is not, either. We’ve bemoaned our mad skills in this arena (as in, we’re mad, and got no skills. Or at least I don’t) that I feel I’m safe dragging him under the bus with me. If he’s added another skull to his throne by next week, we’ll know otherwise.
Tempus fuggits, just as hard as it ever can, and it often seems to disappear just ahead of my grasping claws, y’know? I don’t mean to wax lyrical, so much as I’m a writer trying to describe the incredible feeling of never having the time or energy to manage to do everything I feel I ought. Continue reading “Time Management for the Modern Barbarian”
IN THE BEGINNING … NO MAN WAS HIGHER IN BIRTH THAN ANY OTHER, FOR ALL MEN WERE DESCENDED FROM A SINGLE FATHER AND MOTHER. BUT WHEN ENVY AND COVETOUSNESS CAME INTO THE WORLD, AND MIGHT TRIUMPHED OVER RIGHT . . . CERTAIN MEN WERE APPOINTED AS GUARANTORS AND DEFENDERS OF THE WEAK AND THE HUMBLE.
—The Book of Lancelot of the Lake
I came across this quote while reading a book on the history of knighthood. I’ve always had an interest in knights and the medieval period, and now that I’m delving into the world of HEMA, I find myself looking more deeply at that era, which is how I came across this quote.
Little of that matters, though, because this spoke to me. It spoke to me on a deep, deep level.
You see, in my life, I’ve found there are people who are wired just a little bit differently. They’re the people who train for violence, who live for it, not because they’re violent people, but because they’re the poor bastards who can’t step away from it.
When I first started losing weight, I set two goals. One was a short-term goal of losing 20 pounds. The other was loftier. I wanted to get down to 185. Based on what I suspected my lean body mass was, this would have put me at a pretty healthy weight, but I had 185 fixated in my head.
But as I started losing weight, I realized that 185 was still fine as a goal, but it wasn’t the endpoint I really needed.
Talking with a friend yesterday, I brought this up and he suggested I write about what to do when goals need to change. After all, it applies to not just weight loss.