Its weird waking up at 4 pm after sleeping 7 hours after getting home from work at dawn. I’m groggy. Need caffeine. Now it’s about 7:15 pm – in 4 hours I’ll be working. What to do till then? I need to work out. No basketball tonight for various reasons. I’m lethargic and hungry but I really, really need to get up and go exercise rather than philosophize about it. I hate when I don’t exercise enough. I feel so guilty. I also just feel crappy.

In medical circles, it’s pretty well known that exercise is basically the best medicine we have against routine and common diseases like hypertension and diabetes. Fact. If many people in this country had exercised more over the years they wouldn’t be diabetic now. Fact. If many people exercised more their blood pressure would be in better control. Fact. If people could do 30 minutes of exercise of some form every day the country would be infinitely healthier. Fact. Exercise is good. Movement is good. The animal experience is a good thing. A body at rest tends to stay at rest. I need to get off my ass and break a sweat. There’s few things I hate worse than that “blah” feeling of not having worked out in over a week.

On Tuesday night I continued my exploration of Seattle’s fine restaurants. Gwen and I ate here that night. It was a good dinner with another good (and not cheap) bottle of red wine. Afterwards, there was drama. I told Gwen about the previous night and well, then there was drama. I’m not going into it, here. Things are OK, though, at least temporarily.

Wednesday morning I met with some “financial guy” who my friend George referred to me. This guy is an ex-military man who works for some investment group (“First Command”) that specializes in helping people in the military (God, do I really fit into that category??! AHH!) manage their money. I was shown into an office and this slick-Rick salesman type guy busted out his power point presentation on IRA’s, savings, investment, mutual funds, and all that other shit. I couldn’t have been less interested that morning. I kept analyzing his delivery rather than what he was saying. I know he was salivating at the prospect of hooking a young physician with high earning potential. It really bothered me, for some reason. He kept saying that everything he was doing was really for me. For me! Wow, such a benevolent investment group. Yeah, that sounds about right.

He kept asking me such stupid rhetorical questions like, “Isn’t it about time you thought about your financial future?” I wanted to shake him. “Do you have life insurance?” “You don’t? Well, don’t you love your mom and dad?”

Gee, asshole, you’re right. I do love my mom and dad. I guess I need to give you money to prove it. I wanted to reply, “Isn’t it about time I came over this desk and punched you in the face for being a jackass?”

The guy was all about asking some basic question and then looking at me intently for signs of interest, comprehension, and whatever else. His hair was exquisitely combed. There was a picture of him shaking hands with Colin Powell in his office. He kept making “insider” military references to relate to me as if I was George Patton. He nodded a lot like we were sharing some private joke.

The sad thing is that his “presentation” made good financial sense. Good Financial Sense (Tm) is something I just don’t have. I hate the idea of tying my money away in investments, savings, and other assorted junk, even if it will make me more money later. It makes me feel so mired to some larger system or enterprise controlled by lots of white men in suits who probably make money at the expense of people who could use it a hell of a lot more. It feels completely binding. I much prefer the simplicity of I work, I get paid, I buy things. No 35-year mutual fund investment with x interest and y overhead. That shit drives me nuts. I suppose I’ll look into it further, though, much as I hate that Power point guy and his sizing me up. I’m terrible with money. I have bad credit debt. I don’t pay bills on time. I outspend my means. I suppose I should jump at the chance for a personalized finance plan. I’m supposed to fill out some packet regarding my finances and then meet with him again. To be continued, I guess.

There, now I’ve guilted and angered myself enough to go exercise. I’m off to the gym.