How long can you hold your breath?

Two nights ago I was in bed like people do when they're tired. Random is as random does and so I held my breath for as long as possible.

After the first attempt, which I thought went on for a respectable amount of time, I decided to time the next go on a stopwatch. In my younger years I swam at the pool quite a bit so holding my breath underwater the length of the pool and back was something I would practice. Anyways, to make a drawn out story shorter, I held my breath for two minutes.

I was elated that I held my breath for that long. I searched for the length of time the average person can hold their breath and was a little shocked to see that it was roughly 30 seconds. I've held my breath before and ended up falling somewhere around 45 seconds. What was different this time around? I incorporated a technique I overheard many years ago, which is to almost hyperventilate before attempting to hold your breath. The principle is similar to what cost Lance Armstrong his titles. The blood becomes super rich in oxygen, therefore allowing a longer period of time to lapse between needing to inhale. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blood_doping

So I researched ways to increase lung capacity and breathing exercises. One article I found said that you should expect to pass out during the exercises and to have people around you. It went on to comment that the average person might not see breath holding as a competitive sport. Maybe you've heard of free diving records (the deepest world record attempt in 2013 by Nicholas Mevoli was 236 feet. He died as a result...not from drowning, but from surfacing and losing consciousness).

This is an usual topic, don't you agree? So of course I dug a little deeper. Do you remember when David Blaine did his record attempt? He lasted 17 some odd minutes. Thinking about my midnight go at it and reaching the two minute mark with my lungs burning, I wondered how the record is set at 22 minutes? Turns out that you're allowed to hyperventilate on pure oxygen before attempting a world record.

And so concludes the topic of breath holding.

Please excuse my ignorance

I really don't understand the need for complex passwords online. I'm thinking about a specific website that makes me update my password every so often and it cannot be similar to a previous code and needs to contain two numbers and one symbol from the approved list and that symbol must come after the fourth letter but not following or proceeding a number. Okay so I made some of that up but I cannot be the only person frustrated with all the different password requirements.

If the point of a password is to protect me from people guessing my account, what's the deal with requiring such a specific password that I myself cannot remember unless I write it down? Am I crazy or isn't it all USELESS if you are the target of a keylogger (who will find out your password no matter how complex or simple you make it by tricking you into secretly downloading a program that allows them to see everything you type).

I may not fully understand how easy it is for someone to guess my password, but if I'm to protect my accounts from a random person using the computer after me, or even in my immediate area and close enough to spy on my fingers whilst I type in abc123Ihatepasswords...how are they capable of guessing my secret code? The possibilities are endless.

What I am getting at is that you aren't safe no matter how complex the password is. So if someone wants to "hack" your Facebook account, they're probably smart enough to do it and there isn't shit you can really do about it. So why do websites make you go through all these hoops (that ultimately drive me insane) to make me feel "secure" in the complexity of a password?

Just let me choose something I can remember and if I choose to involve numbers and symbols, let that be my choice and not a demand!

I also want to point out that the original designer of the password strength indicator that sometimes follows the input of a password to tell you how shitty your password is, is a DICK. I get the point. It's there to show you how little you tried. You can do better! But what if I don't want to? I guess I can always ignore it. But I live in America and god damn if I don't get offended at the brutal honesty of a single word like "weak".

I'm inviting you to educate me.

Why the American Bald Eagle is an asshole

So you know that bird that's the representation of all things America? I forget its name. Hold on, let me turn on Fox TV. No wrong channel. Just a bunch of meerkats eating beetles on that channel. Ah here we go. The Discovery channel. The "is running out of ideas channel" has a program they've been running for far too long now called the Deadliest Catch. Quick side question. How do you think fame has affected some of the egos on those guys? I can imagine that some are still humble but some are giant Macy's Day Parade floats with heads as distorted and bulbous as Goofy...or worse—Pikachu! That thing is almost pure round. HA

So my father knows some of the guys from that Deadliest Catch as he is in the marine electronics field up in Dutch Harbor. I bring him up in context of that show only for the geographical reference (okay secretly I like to snicker when he says Sig is a nice guy).

Here is what Alaska is like

I called him on the phone today and in between the lag that happens when two cell phones communicate from that distance he told me a story that made my eyes water with laughter.

RETURN OF THE BALD EAGLE! So he tells me that yesterday he was walking from building to building in town and had his hat and glasses ripped from his head. The way he described it is what made me laugh. Let me take a quick detour and explain my father. He is simple and humble. Okay so he tells me this bird smacks him in the back of the head and he thinks to himself what the heck. Given that this is not his first year up in Dutch Harbor he quickly assesses that the thump was the result of talons from an eagle grasping at his hat. The bird flies off but not too far. It perches itself on a light post and my father proceeds to wait. In his wisdom he just waits. He knows the bird will eventually release his hat and glasses from his clutches. Plus he really likes that hat (which to add further depth to his character, you need to know was free...maybe 10 years ago).

I laugh at this part as I imagine this bird (do you fully grasp just how large bald eagles actually are? Try an 8 foot wing span) looking down at my father and almost taunting him. He takes the hat and glasses into one foot (what do you call bird feet? When I think of feet I certainly don't think of several inch-long razor-sharp talons) and dangles it. I got yo bitch ass hat Todd, what you gon' do 'bout it?

The bird eventually drops the items and they both go on with their day.

He then tells me about a person who was attacked (let's face it, probably the same stupid bird) and badly. This time the eagle used those talons to dig into the scalp of this poor person and did some work. Anyhow, the person goes to the hospital and gets stitches. On the way back to their house the bird strikes AGAIN. I laugh but also cringe at the thought of a 15+ pound bird dropping down onto my head a fierce battle cry and hot serrated blades.

This is my father. Bald Eagle for scale.

Because shit is funny

Did you miss me?

I'm back from a writing hiatus. Insert a terribly trite metaphor of explosions and flames to welcome me back, only slightly modified and supercharged with a gurggle of lasting unburnt fuel in the exhaust system of a new Corvette Stingray (because DEAR HIGHER POWER that car is excellent looking). 

I have new ideas and several directions to test out. If you know anything about me though, you might know that my commitment level to creative idea is about as lasting as seasonal allergies. I sneeze out ideas and keep sneezing until there is a waste bin (thank you brother) containing all the wonderful words that came to me. Then I let them sit and stew. The warm runoff bleeding through the fibers of individual pieces and adhering to one another, through the bonds only clear snot can achieve, like layers of an abstract art piece I think about making but don't. This process is important to me because it's during this stage that I romanticize my crusty tissues, only to abandon them once the season of headaches and itchy nose has passed. Ahhhh....Summer!

So over the past two months I have traveled. 

I pulled off many memorable Hemmingways (my newest favorite way to drink wine and nap in the sun). 

I visited San Diego and saw some fish and managed to calculate out some dance moves at my childhood best friend's wedding. 

I've thought about what I want to be and how I want to live.

I failed at coming to any conclusion(s) on the above mentioned topics.

I watched a very good friend of mine graduate from a Nursing program, which my girlfriend will be starting in the Fall, and began composing a speech for her day of graduation (that she is very excited to read).

Lucas and I went on a few hikes and runs.

I thought of the perfect way to commit suicide. Don't worry, it was just my scumbag mind toying with me. I know I'm not the only one that this happens to.

I watched all of Wilfred and enjoyed nearly every second of it (minus that awkward bit when the dog and Ryan make out).

I've been inspired by the people in my life.

I came to the conclusion that I hate writing for others but must do so to earn money.

I fell more in love with my girlfriend by exposing both of our weaknesses and putting in work.

To welcome me back I've hired Eminem to do up a song of his.