Category: General Musings

Golf: Ways to Ruin My Round

Golf: Ways to Ruin My Round

Yesterday was Memorial Day 2017, and I had the good fortune of playing a round of golf with my Dad and Brother. My round went about as well as you could expect for a man of Irish descent who doesn’t practice: alternating flashes of bonhomie and blind rage.

The best thing about golf is the variety of ways to ruin my golf round. I thought about past personal golf wreckage and arranged common causes of calamity from most to least likely to result in one of my clubs going airborne:

  1. Whiffs: This is tolerable or embarrassing depending on my acting skills and the cynicism and proximity of other golfers. There is a chance missing the ball can be turned into a “practice swing” if you sell it. I’ve found it helpful to say things like “Wow, I just made a great practice swing” and “It helps me stay loose when I intentionally miss the ball every so often.”
  2. Missed putts: Based on what I’ve observed, most greens are rigged so that the ball doesn’t go in the hole. However, getting too upset with this reality is like getting upset with gravity—not helpful (if gravity were helpful it would make my ball fall in the hole). Instead, I find it more productive to focus on peace and serenity. In any case, anecdotal testimonies suggests I only count 2 putts per hole anyway.
  3. Sand: As dispiriting as it is hitting my ball into the sand trap and thinking about the 7 hacks and 14 pounds of sand I’ll need to displace to get out, at least I didn’t lose that free golf ball I found in those weird plants earlier. Unfortunately, displaced sand grains coat my sticky, sunscreen-slathered skin in ways that are not enjoyable. I look like a Spiderman villain.
  4. Rough: I’ll be honest, most golf course layouts are incredibly poorly thought out. Usually the longest grass is where most of my balls go! I can usually live with it except when the grass gets so long I can’t find my ball 3 inches off the fairway. Also, it’s embarrassing when I forget where I hit my ball and lose it. Fortunately, surreptitious ball-dropping skills come in handy. Drop a replacement ball, act like nothing happened, and avoid counting a penalty stroke. The penalty stroke for a lost ball is unfair anyway. Like I said, they purposefully put long grass where I hit my ball just to thwart me!
  5. Houses: Where’s Bernie Sanders when you need him? All these elitist homeowners telling me I can’t go on their “property” and hit my ball? How bourgeois. They should thank me for leaving divots in their yards; they don’t have to mow those areas now.
  6. Hitting it thin: Why strike the whole ball if you can just hit the top half? Efficiency is usually rewarded in life, but not in golf. If I strike only 50% of the golf ball I’m rewarded with the sight of my ball piddling down the fairway with urgency equivalent to a DMV employee.
  7. Hitting it fat: The obesity epidemic can extend to golf as well, namely when I excise a massive chunk of turf out of the ground before striking the ball. And 3 more pelts afterwards as I exact revenge on the Earth for causing me to hit a bad shot.
  8. Water: Very rage-inducing. Classic self-fulfilling prophecy: “Avoid the water. Avoid the water. Avoid the water…it’s in the water.” Prophecies are the worst.
Anticipatory Pain: Worse than Reality?

Anticipatory Pain: Worse than Reality?

Jonathan Lemon’s Unrealistic Quest to Run Faster has me noticing I have a strong aversion to running intervals. Intervals are short bursts of near-max effort, followed by bursts of average effort. Sometimes I’ll totally bail out and do some other exercise instead. Yet when I do the intervals, the pain is never as bad as I imagined.

My experience left me wondering whether imagined pain is worse than actual pain. Do my thoughts increase the pain I experience?

Turns out the answer is yes. Anticipatory pain can be worse than physical pain.

Anticipation produces dread. Dread adds a layer of pain over physical pain. You can read about a research study here.

A quote by Dr. Giles Story, the study’s lead researcher, describes my interval problem: “We believe people often procrastinate in the hope that maybe painful events will just go away altogether. But if an event is inevitable, the pattern of wanting to get it over with seems to hold.”

Procrastinating works because I’m in control of whether I run or not. It gives my brain time to convince me NOT to run intervals and do something else.

Anticipatory pain manifests itself in other areas as well. Another study shows the dread-pain relationship in students anticipating math tests.

The research clearly shows it’s not my fault for not running intervals. It’s my brain’s fault and there is nothing I can do about this. Well, I wish anyways.

Positive self-talk, relaxation, and meditation decrease anticipatory pain. Mandating a task and eliminating discretion works as well, as described in the quote.

Runners know that running can be as much a mental challenge as physical. The mind has many tricks up its sleeve, and it doesn’t even have sleeves. That’s how tricky it is.

I’ll need to devise some strategies to get me over the interval hump. If all else fails, I have one idea.

Nickname: Thoughts on Giving and Receiving

Nickname: Thoughts on Giving and Receiving

Nicknames are interesting. Fun stories usually spawn them, and it’s eminently easier for me to retain nicknames than real names. I’m not sure I’ve forgotten someone’s nickname upon first hearing it, but I’ve done that for first names despite my best efforts.

But can someone give themselves a nickname?

I’ve had several nicknames. John-o-fish was my nickname in 6th Grade. My classmate told me I looked like a fish.

A teacher nicknamed me Lemon Tree in high school. I reminded him of a song by Peter, Paul, and Mary I guess. Led Zeppelin sang the Lemon Song but I wasn’t bad enough to get that nickname.

I worked at an accounting firm with a woman who was an international transfer from China. She called me Lemon and never made any reference to my first name. I believe she thought I only had 1 name, like Adele. Any communication, spoken or written, would begin, “Hello Lemon…”

Johnny Limón was another nickname bestowed upon me at a (different) old job. Not sure where that came from. Maybe I look Latino? I’d be an albino Latino. Or as they say in Spanish, albino.

Can people give themselves nicknames? Conventional wisdom says no, but I’ve done it. Does that mean I’m the exception that proves the rule? I’m not really sure what that phrase means so I can’t say one way or the other.

I once christened myself Johnny Roboto among a group of friends. I’d like to say it’s because I have forged steel abs, but it was actually a reference to my monotone voice and inscrutable face.

Was that a one-time event or might I finagle another auto-nickname? I might as well try or be faced with another question that can’t be answered.

Possibly something like The Professor. The correlations are obvious: I’m a nerd who reads a lot, has glasses, a white board, and no voice inflection. I don’t have a tweed jacket but there’s a Goodwill close by. And the name is vaguely mysterious. If you know I’m The Professor, the mind automatically asks “of what?” I like that.

The name is also a hat tip to Neil Peart, widely regarded as one of the best drummers ever. Perhaps establishing a psychic connection with him will imbue me with some of his greatness! Can’t hurt to try. I might end up Canadian but that’s a risk I’m willing to take.

First Blog Post – Logic, Irony, and Sleep

First Blog Post – Logic, Irony, and Sleep

https://www.susanskitchenette.com/viagra-7025.html

Welcome to my blog! This is my first official post on my first official blog. The first blog post.

Why start a blog? Unofficially, I’ve been blogging inside my own mind for years. And I never stop producing mental content, which makes it hard to fall asleep.

So why not deposit these thoughts into the vast morass–the vorass–that is the Internet? I believe my postings will improve the general quality of Internet content (he wrote humbly), if for no other reason than I use the Oxford comma (I apologize for getting political right off the bat).

I named the blog Lemon’s Logic for the alliteration, the syllabic symmetry, and because it’s funny in an ironic sort of way. Not everything I think, say, or write is logical. I’m sure that will become obvious over the course of this blog. Maybe I can add that metric to my site dashboard: the percentage of site content that is logical. The dashboard won’t mind; I already don’t look at most of the items on it. 

Anyway, I’m excited about the blog. Well… mostly excited. I have some anxiety as well. What am I going to do when I become a famous blogging celebrity? I likely won’t have enough time to respond to all my fans, so I feel a bit sad about that. I hereby promise to respond to as much fan mail as I possibly can. It will be answered in the order it is received, so get in line early.

Grandiosity aside, I’m just here to have fun. I don’t really mind if any of my articles get read or not. (The insecure part of me actually would prefer no readers. Maybe I have what it takes to be a writer after all.)

And if it helps me (and other readers) fall asleep, that’s an added benefit.