I knew it!

Having been at TEDActive for the past week, I've written so many serious and wonder-filled entries that I have surpassed my tolerance limit for my own seriousness. So, I will head down the low-brow road and share with you an important piece of medical research that took me way to long to hear about.

Dr. Karen Weatherby is my hero. I can only hope her recent research proves to be correct. If it is, given my bad tendencies, I may well live forever.

Oh, sure, like you never look.

What I (re)learned about myself at TEDActive

I've gone to TEDActive four times now, and each time I emerge having learned the same lessons--again.

I want to spend more time creating.

The conference filled me with creative spirit. Books and stories I want to write, films I want to make--all of it bubbled up in me and yelled for more of my time and attention.

I want to do more to improve our business.

Business inspiration hits me often here, and this year was no exception. There is so much we could be doing, and so much we could be doing differently or better. I'd love to get to it!

I suck at socializing.

People seemed to approach one another with ease and often glee. I do well when someone talks to me, but striking up conversations with others is very difficult--though I do fine once I'm past that moment.

I have social tendencies.

I admire the social ease of others, and I hang out on the edges of the crowds for a little time each day, wondering if I might somehow fit in.

I don't belong here.

The energy level and social commitment and creativity of the TEDsters is daunting. So very often, I feel old and slow and as if I have done nothing.

I do belong here.

When I talk to people about PT or my books or the Children No More charity effort, the look in their eyes makes it clear that I do belong--and that some of them are left wondering if they do.

I must lose weight and become fit again.

As you can see, for every other lesson, I find myself torn, on both sides, wanting more than I can find a way to manage. On this lesson, however, there is no other side: If I want to live a long life--and I do--I must drop a ton of weight and become fit again.

The challenge, of course, is to figure out how to do that and everything else I want--and need-to do within days with only twenty-four hours and a life with far more stress than I am handling well right now.

Clearly, I have a lot to do.

Sharing the pain

They scarred me, so I feel it's only fair that I give you a chance to embrace the pain, too.

First, Bonnie pointed me to this gem--and had the grace to apologize in advance for doing so.



I, however, will not apologize. I did warn you.

The next day, Jennie pointed me to this lovely bit of Japanese weirdness.



I'd definitely watch that whole movie!

Running away

Don't you sometimes think about running away? I don't mean as a child; I mean now, as a grown-up, with all sorts of responsibilities that you willingly undertook.

I certainly do. Though I have no intention of doing so, to amuse myself I sometimes come up with excuses I could use should I want to vanish for a day or three. As a person committed to helping others, I thought I'd share my current Top 5 with you; feel free to use any of them if you need them.

5. Needed time alone to sort out my feelings. (It's the last on the list because it's the most honest and, therefore, the one nobody would believe.)

4. Fell on the way to my car, hit my neck, and blacked out as I pulled myself into it. Woke up with amnesia and drove around until it passed. I've missed you all so much!

3. Government mind-control experiment. If I tell you anything else, they'll kill me. Got any tin foil?

2. A car pulled up, a man jumped out and put a bag over my head, and then they took me away. When I next could see, I was in a hotel room, where four of them, all wearing masks, used me in horrible sexual ways. No, I won't go into the details. I need a shower.

and the number one excuse for vanishing for a few days...

1. Alien abduction! I can't remember a thing, but my ass sure hurts like hell.

A bad brain moment

(Warning: Adult content follows. If you end up having to squeegee your third eye clean after reading this, don't blame me.)

What do you think when you see this name and this photo? Here's what ran through my mind when I did.

I've never believed in naming one's body parts, so though popular culture might have one believe that men name their penises, I have never named mine. Having seen this page, though, I for the first time wondered if I was missing something by abstaining from this practice.

Consider the very weird prospect of me unzipping, pointing down, and saying,

"Say hello to the Corntastic Porndog."

I warned you.