Barb’s Burblings

My thoughts about Stephen Strasburg are fairly obvious, so you can imagine my reaction to him going on the DL for the second time in the 2 months he’s been in the major leagues. Honestly, my problem isn’t with him. It’s just that I fear that people have him built up. Just because he’s really, really good doesn’t guarantee him a spot in the Hall of Fame or in the next 10 All-Star Games.

Or, you could just read what Joe Posnanski wrote:

There is an endless list of names … players who could have been in Cooperstown with the great stuff they had … Roger Salkeld … Dean Burke … Les Rohr … Brien Taylor … David Clyde … Bill Pulsipher … Todd Van Poppel … these are not cautionary tales. These are not exceptions to the rule. They are the rule. These are the reality pitchers, the ones who had their great careers ended before they began.

All of which is to say that Stephen Strasburg fights the odds. But he was fighting the odds anyway, long before this latest injury. Pitchers get hurt in a thousand different ways. And it isn’t the ability to endure pain that gets them through even if a lughead like Rob Dibble thinks Strasburg should just “suck it up” and “stop crying.” No, it’s preparation, and it’s luck, and it’s taking care of yourself, and it’s luck, and it’s maintaining form, and it’s luck, and in many cases it’s surgery.

So I wish Strasburg luck. And if his career is one of flashes of brilliance and extended stints on the DL, I’ll be saddened. But not surprised.

If you want to visit a site that you make you laugh until you cry, check out Hyperbole and a Half. Seriously, it brings me nothing but joy. And insight into my life. Seriously, this spiral (from “This Is Why I’ll Never Be an Adult“) happens to me on an all-too-regular basis at work:

The longer I procrastinate on returning phone calls and emails, the more guilty I feel about it. The guilt I feel causes me to avoid the issue further, which only leads to more guilt and more procrastination. It gets to the point where I don’t email someone for fear of reminding them that they emailed me and thus giving them a reason to be disappointed in me.

Then the guilt from my ignored responsibilities grows so large that merely carrying it around with me feels like a huge responsibility. It takes up a sizable portion of my capacity, leaving me almost completely useless for anything other than consuming nachos and surfing the internet like an attention-deficient squirrel on PCP.

Do yourself a favor and check out the archives. Made of awesome, and perfect for a Sunday night.

I am what is wrong with this country.

I realized this yesterday, as I sat in my car, shoving a Quarter Pounder in my mouth. I drove from Silver Spring to Bethesda to drop off some work during my lunch break and stopped at McDonald’s on the way back. There I was, sitting in my car, combining our love of our cars and fast food with workaholic tendencies. Huzzah!

Well, it was a nice break in the day.

Usually when I’m back home after a vacation, I’m looking forward to going back to work. I like the routine, I like having stuff to do, I like what I do, I like my coworkers.

I spent the last week in Bethany Beach, Delaware. And man, I did not want to come back. And now I’m at home, and…I want to go back to Bethany. I had a routine. It involved getting up around 9:30 and then figuring out whether to do the beach or the pool in the morning. It involved a lot of reading and watching baseball at night. It involved hanging out with my sister’s family and my parents. It involved not thinking about work, which has been stressful lately.

In 12 hours, I’ll be at the office. But until then, my mind is still at the beach.