How well a workout goes depends on how much you struggle! So push yourself to the limit ASAP and DONT EVER STOP until time is up! (Except resting times)
Isolation exercises DO HAVE THEIR ROLES - 1) stabilizers will get activated and trained as well
2) CONCENTRATION
3) recruitment of muscle fibres
4) selective activation
Couple them with 1 or 2 multi-joint exercises.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Monday, January 5, 2009
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Monday, December 29, 2008
Yay! I'm finally past my first and longest period of writer's block! I managed to restore the ISP essay from its bits and pieces - by writing the first paragraph ,what an accomplishment! Sometimes when you want to record a thought you don't have a medium, and when you're finalize in front of your computer your brain goes *plop*. Sure there's portable voice recording technologies but I don't have the money to afford such luxuries or the time to accidentally break them.
I feel liberal today, so allow me to devote myself to a cause of paramount importance. Yes, that's right, ladies and gentlemen, I support those who shed tears in front of movie screens! Sure many hypocrites (I'm sure you've ALL done it!) out there may caustically remind you of your sensitivity, but where else are you going to perceive something so vivid and dramatic? Are we all heartless blockheads!? If an event so dramatic was to actually happen, would those hypocrites cry? Probably not. They would surely censure you on your romanticism and remind you that what was on the movie screen did not actually happen, but what's the difference? If your movie experience is so unreal and shallow, or if you're so stolid and firmly cynical that you constantly remind yourself the movie isn't real, then what's the point of watching the movie in the first place? You MOVIE critics! Then again, you're getting paid to be hypocrites...
So cry your hearts out, the stress and loss of water will cause you to die faster, says the physician. So now to go off on a tangent, a perfect, perpendicular tangent *in the fourth dimension*, here's my matches of the pure sciences to the social sciences:
Math - Economics, the most theory and the most fundamental of each group ( that's what they claim)
Physics - Psychology, one explains the world and the other explains the world. O_o
Chemistry - Politics, don't you just love predictability?
Biology - Sociology, millions of little cells... eeeeeehe!
Computer science - metaphysics, it's either a 0 or a 1, bitch! And then there's the complicated stuff...
*History, anthropology, philosophy, theology and metaphysics not included.
YES, I cried over some B-list movie! I'll admit it here so I can laugh at myself when I'm 80, after I'm done laughing at my very own 2006 edition of the PERSONAL COMPUTER!
The sensational movie was a remake of the musical Evita, of the same name. The movie told the story of awhore previously mediocre actress and radio announcer turned unconsciously fascist female matriarch First Lady of Argentina Eva Peron, who slept worked her way up to marrying the sexiest man instead of the most powerful man, and then making her husband Juan Peron powerful with propaganda. Honestly, she could of chose a much better country to take over. She ended up running for Vice President and getting herself an apotheosis, although she couldn't finish the job because of cervical cancer (the movie did not mention this for obvious reasons), so instead she ran as chemotherapy candidate instead(it was a newfangled luxury treatment back then!). She got the therapy, although it failed because she worked 22 hours a day for her Eva Peron Charity; the movie only showed her throwing out 100-peso bills at little kids though. So in the end she decided to get her body embalmed instead like Lenin did and display it under a statue of herself bigger than the statue of liberty. In your waxed face Lenin! Too bad her useless husband got kicked out of the country after she died and her coffin ended up stolen. Juan Peron ended up marrying another woman (you bastard), Isabella, and then returning back to Argentina for his presidency. Only to die and get succeeded by... Isabella? This guy just loves getting dominated by his more assertive wives! Isabella found Eva's coffin and brought it back? Wait WHAT?
Wait... I cried over that?
Actually the movie wasn't exactly like that... I just added in all the Wikipedia details when I watched it. Personally I loved the movie because I love competent dictators. Reminds me of the time I used to blindly idolize despots. China just happened to popularize historical dramas starring Chinese dictators when I was a tween who searched for a hero. Good thing Hitler wasn't around.
Who knows, I might even make a parody of Madonna's solo "Don't cry for me Argentina." DOH, the Simpsons beat me to it. O wait, did I cry? The irony! Huh what? Oh yea... MADONNA starred in the movie.
Huh? I'm writing this on Google Chrome? Oh, I mis-clicked and it loaded so fast that I didn't realize that this isn't Firefox.
I feel liberal today, so allow me to devote myself to a cause of paramount importance. Yes, that's right, ladies and gentlemen, I support those who shed tears in front of movie screens! Sure many hypocrites (I'm sure you've ALL done it!) out there may caustically remind you of your sensitivity, but where else are you going to perceive something so vivid and dramatic? Are we all heartless blockheads!? If an event so dramatic was to actually happen, would those hypocrites cry? Probably not. They would surely censure you on your romanticism and remind you that what was on the movie screen did not actually happen, but what's the difference? If your movie experience is so unreal and shallow, or if you're so stolid and firmly cynical that you constantly remind yourself the movie isn't real, then what's the point of watching the movie in the first place? You MOVIE critics! Then again, you're getting paid to be hypocrites...
So cry your hearts out, the stress and loss of water will cause you to die faster, says the physician. So now to go off on a tangent, a perfect, perpendicular tangent *in the fourth dimension*, here's my matches of the pure sciences to the social sciences:
Math - Economics, the most theory and the most fundamental of each group ( that's what they claim)
Physics - Psychology, one explains the world and the other explains the world. O_o
Chemistry - Politics, don't you just love predictability?
Biology - Sociology, millions of little cells... eeeeeehe!
Computer science - metaphysics, it's either a 0 or a 1, bitch! And then there's the complicated stuff...
*History, anthropology, philosophy, theology and metaphysics not included.
YES, I cried over some B-list movie! I'll admit it here so I can laugh at myself when I'm 80, after I'm done laughing at my very own 2006 edition of the PERSONAL COMPUTER!
The sensational movie was a remake of the musical Evita, of the same name. The movie told the story of a
Wait... I cried over that?
Actually the movie wasn't exactly like that... I just added in all the Wikipedia details when I watched it. Personally I loved the movie because I love competent dictators. Reminds me of the time I used to blindly idolize despots. China just happened to popularize historical dramas starring Chinese dictators when I was a tween who searched for a hero. Good thing Hitler wasn't around.
Who knows, I might even make a parody of Madonna's solo "Don't cry for me Argentina." DOH, the Simpsons beat me to it. O wait, did I cry? The irony! Huh what? Oh yea... MADONNA starred in the movie.
Huh? I'm writing this on Google Chrome? Oh, I mis-clicked and it loaded so fast that I didn't realize that this isn't Firefox.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Flashback - 1
Today I return to an orderly life with a purpose and a goal, even when my schedules are overly prolific – my mind will not stray. Today ends my years of chaotic living and marks my return to life with a single focus and purpose – permanently. The road to the Ivy League and perspective-changing creation begins today, and hopefully I will never turn back.
A fortuitous decision came across my life today as I picked up Dan Ariely’s “The Predictably Irrational” for a friend, and began to read. I remembered events of the past that I want never forgotten.
Over the last 2, 3, 4, I can’t even remember how many years, I’ve tried to accumulate experiences that no other human being has ever had. I attempted this ridiculous goal by making choices so obviously irrational that anyone with a tint of sensibility would avoid them.
One lonely Saturday Night, the Saturday before exam week – everyone was home studying, but I was working long hours I have never worked before. The cause of this flagrant situation was my relatively new job at McDonalds - the newfangled worker never learns how to book off at work until it’s too late. I was stuck at work, and I just happened to also have caught one of the worst colds I ever had. By the end of my 8 hour shift, any noseblowing would result in a hint of blood on the rough and jagged surface of a McDonalds tissue (which wasn’t designed for noseblowing in the first place) and my lips were so dry that the top lip turned completely purple. Sluggishly, I changed from my worn out McDonalds uniform, which smelled of animal odour, into an orange, hooded sweater, which also smelled like animal odour. My sense of smell was befuddled at the time due to my cold, but I knew that I was shrouded in McOdour.
It was 11:30 at night, and I had to bus home. The problem with bussing wasn’t the process itself; it was the inevitable combination of a freezing, Canadian night and my 15 minute-walk home from the bus station. As I got off the VIVA blue – one ride tickets still being $2.75 at that time, I realized that I was caught in a snowstorm, and not just any snowstorm, a Canadian snowstorm. There was no other options – I had to get myself home, and I had no way of contacting my parents, so I did the only thing I could do – give myself a dose of inspiration. I took out my cheap $30 RMB headphone and $20 CND mp3, blasted some Tupac at max volume, and began my journey of a thousand steps - home. The journey began with the hardest part, which was a steep, uphill bridge. As I stepped onto the sidewalk and into almost 3 feet of snow, my feet realized that they were only covered in running shoes, and that the sidewalk wasn’t clear of snow. I stepped onto the side of the road instead, and had to watch every step I made. The reason was that although the streets were free of snow – they were covered with ice. There was even a road sign that said: “bridge freezes at –4 °C” for cars. The roaring wind was constantly jabbing at my runny, bloody nose, my violent, dried lips, as I had nothing to cover my face. So there I was, slowly making my way up an icy bridge, feet wet with snow, armed with only a sweater and headphones blasting Tupac in the most brutal snowstorm of the winter.
At the top of the bridge, my mp3 suddenly ran out of battery juice, and I was left in the whooshing wind. I began to try and make sense of all this – and unsurprisingly had no conclusion for myself. Why was I doing this to myself? Was it a mix of my unyielding loyalty to my general goal of “trying everything you can have in life” and my in-the-moment extremism? As if I was in any other situation that didn’t make sense, I began to ask myself questions.
“Has anyone else ever experienced this mixture of lonely, powerful, brazen feelings?”
“No.”
“Is there any purpose to these feelings?”
Then, I remembered why it all began.
To be continued.
A fortuitous decision came across my life today as I picked up Dan Ariely’s “The Predictably Irrational” for a friend, and began to read. I remembered events of the past that I want never forgotten.
Over the last 2, 3, 4, I can’t even remember how many years, I’ve tried to accumulate experiences that no other human being has ever had. I attempted this ridiculous goal by making choices so obviously irrational that anyone with a tint of sensibility would avoid them.
One lonely Saturday Night, the Saturday before exam week – everyone was home studying, but I was working long hours I have never worked before. The cause of this flagrant situation was my relatively new job at McDonalds - the newfangled worker never learns how to book off at work until it’s too late. I was stuck at work, and I just happened to also have caught one of the worst colds I ever had. By the end of my 8 hour shift, any noseblowing would result in a hint of blood on the rough and jagged surface of a McDonalds tissue (which wasn’t designed for noseblowing in the first place) and my lips were so dry that the top lip turned completely purple. Sluggishly, I changed from my worn out McDonalds uniform, which smelled of animal odour, into an orange, hooded sweater, which also smelled like animal odour. My sense of smell was befuddled at the time due to my cold, but I knew that I was shrouded in McOdour.
It was 11:30 at night, and I had to bus home. The problem with bussing wasn’t the process itself; it was the inevitable combination of a freezing, Canadian night and my 15 minute-walk home from the bus station. As I got off the VIVA blue – one ride tickets still being $2.75 at that time, I realized that I was caught in a snowstorm, and not just any snowstorm, a Canadian snowstorm. There was no other options – I had to get myself home, and I had no way of contacting my parents, so I did the only thing I could do – give myself a dose of inspiration. I took out my cheap $30 RMB headphone and $20 CND mp3, blasted some Tupac at max volume, and began my journey of a thousand steps - home. The journey began with the hardest part, which was a steep, uphill bridge. As I stepped onto the sidewalk and into almost 3 feet of snow, my feet realized that they were only covered in running shoes, and that the sidewalk wasn’t clear of snow. I stepped onto the side of the road instead, and had to watch every step I made. The reason was that although the streets were free of snow – they were covered with ice. There was even a road sign that said: “bridge freezes at –4 °C” for cars. The roaring wind was constantly jabbing at my runny, bloody nose, my violent, dried lips, as I had nothing to cover my face. So there I was, slowly making my way up an icy bridge, feet wet with snow, armed with only a sweater and headphones blasting Tupac in the most brutal snowstorm of the winter.
At the top of the bridge, my mp3 suddenly ran out of battery juice, and I was left in the whooshing wind. I began to try and make sense of all this – and unsurprisingly had no conclusion for myself. Why was I doing this to myself? Was it a mix of my unyielding loyalty to my general goal of “trying everything you can have in life” and my in-the-moment extremism? As if I was in any other situation that didn’t make sense, I began to ask myself questions.
“Has anyone else ever experienced this mixture of lonely, powerful, brazen feelings?”
“No.”
“Is there any purpose to these feelings?”
Then, I remembered why it all began.
To be continued.
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