Ultimate Tig Bom

Sit Right Back

2010-07-19T12:00:00.004-04:00

It occurred to me recently that I have not posted about the Westport chairs I built this past winter. This is a grievous mistake on my part. This is to enlighten you on the story.

We begin on the shores of Lake Champlain, near the small town of Westport, New York. There, at his summer home, a man named Tom Lee designed the original Westport Chair. The design featured the trademark slanted seat and back, as well as wide planks and armrests, useful for supporting drinks, food, ashtrays, books... whatever you wanted to enjoy whilst sitting and enjoying a perfect Adirondack summer morning or evening.

The chair has since evolved and spread to the point that nearly everyone in America is familiar with the Adirondack chair. It's made from every sort of material, and placed in yards everywhere, not just on the rocky shores of mountain lakes where it is so naturally at home. The patented plans can be found on the web, and there's even a twitter account. I know.

That man, Tom Lee, was my great-great Uncle. I have sat in chairs that were his original design on the very porch where he designed them. That summer home is still in my family.

Last summer, while on vacation there, I decided that I wanted to try my hand at building a couple of those original Westport chairs. Eschewing the bastardized Adirondack versions of the chair, I wanted to make a chair as close to the original as I could get. My Uncle found a pamphlet with directions for a Westport chair, sent me the plans, and I was on my way.

At the end of last summer, I was working here in NH on painting an old house. The owner was a really nice guy (in fact, he was the one who gave me my boat). He was so nice, that when I mentioned that I wanted to build some outdoor furniture, he offered to give me some wood he had sitting in his barn. I was ecstatic. He had milled some large and especially wide pine boards from a tree that had fallen on his property a couple years earlier. I knew it would be hard to find the requisite wide slats to really make a true Westport chair, and suddenly they had fallen into my lap. Best of all, they were free!

I used the basement woodworking shop of my girlfriend's brother-in-law, and over a few weeks in October and November, I made several chairs. They're not perfect, but I was very pleased with the results.

In November, I gave two of the chairs to my grandmother as an 80th birthday gift. In December, I gave two more to my parents for Christmas. It really felt great to be able to give such meaningful presents to my family.

I kept two chairs for myself. Here now, is one, still in unfinished (unstained) state in my back yard.

Note the solid slatted back. It's one board, as it should be. The arms are wide and contoured. Perfect for holding coffee mugs, or a glass of something stronger.

Below is the same chair with one coat of stain on it.

Finally, here are both of my chairs, stained and finished.

If you're interested in one... or more, I could be persuaded to build some more. I could possibly even give you a good price on it.

Chacarero

2010-05-31T22:11:00.004-04:00

In downtown Boston, right near Filene's Basement, there's a small sidewalk lunch counter. It's called Chacarero's. They serve Chilean food. I think they've opened up a full-service restaurant since I was there, but this place -- being in the heart of the business district -- does a brisk lunch-time business during the week.

I was introduced to Chacarero a few years ago when I worked downtown for a few months. One of my co-workers told me about it. I checked it out. The line was some 20 people deep down the sidewalk. The menu is pretty small. Basically, you pick chicken, beef, or veggie sandwich. At that point, you move down the line, getting a new ingredient on your sandwich at each step: a worker piles on whatever you want. This way, you grab a sandwich and a drink and move off to either eat on a nearby bench or head back to your office. It's quick, and delicious. Oh my god, is it delicious.

When I first heard what was on the sandwich I was a little skeptical. But after my first taste, I was hooked.

I haven't had one of their sandwiches in a couple years, though. I find myself craving one every few weeks. I had even told L about this place a couple times during one of my reminiscences.

Finally, I googled this place, and found a recipe that I thought sounded close. Tonight, I did it.

Observe:

First, I marinated a couple chicken breasts in a real quick, easy mixture of fresh chopped garlic, paprika, cumin, olive oil and oregano. Then I got my grill pan really hot, and grilled the breasts.

After preparing the avocado mixture (not pictured b/c it doesn't look that great, but it's delicious!), I prepped the sandwich bread with it. (Note: I couldn't find a recipe for the Chilean flat bread, but this fresh bakery bread worked pretty well.)

Then came the chicken.

Next: Muenster cheese.

Finally, fresh tomato slices, and freshly steamed green beans. Yes, green beans. Sounds weird, but it's great. They add a little twist of flavor, but more importantly, a little crispy crunch in the sandwich. Absolutely crucial.

I added a little salt and pepper and voila!

Served it with some sweet potato fries.

I was pretty damn satisfied with my attempt at recreating this amazing dish. I was fully prepared to be disappointed -- I was really expecting it, actually. But the flavor was very close. Mine lacked some of the spice, but that's something that's easily tweaked. I heartily recommend giving this recipe a try, and adding some of your favorite hot sauce.

Bienvenue a Montreal

2010-05-12T08:43:00.003-04:00

This past Friday I drove to Montreal with a couple buddies. A few other guys flew in from New York, Atlanta, and Virginia. It was my friend's bachelor party weekend.

I had only been to Canada once before, and that was when I was very young (probably 10 or so), so I don't remember much. This time I was excited. I'd heard good things about Montreal.

We had a good group of guys (9 in total). Saturday we spent time at the casino, then had tickets for a marquee UFC fight. We got there about 9pm, and it lasted until after midnight. I'm not really a mixed martial arts fan, but it was fun to have a big event to cap off the weekend.

As with any guys' gathering, there was plenty of ball-busting, name-calling and movie quoting. I lost on the first hand of a poker tournament. My old roommate lost 30 bucks on a couple hands of casino War before he realized it wasn't Blackjack. We experienced some of the best and worst clubs Montreal has to offer. We got reservations at the wrong restaurant Saturday night, but I ended up with the biggest Reuben sandwich I've ever eaten. We drove back through blowing snow Sunday morning and afternoon -- that's right, snow. In May. Even the locals were surprised.

All in all, though, it was a very good time. I quickly realized I don't remember much French from my high school days, despite passing 4 years of it. I also realized I'm not that far from the Canadian border, and think I might have to make the trip more often. When the weather's good.

No pictures yet. I'm waiting for one guy to distribute them, after deleting anything incriminating.

Review: The Road

2010-04-08T12:21:00.003-04:00

For anyone who has seen No Country for Old Men, you have been introduced to the brutal style of Cormac McCarthy. He's written several works of fiction, many of which are set on the US/Mexico border and in the lawlessness of frontier life of that area.

I've heard good things about McCarthy and so, a couple weeks ago, I bought a paperback copy of The Road, published in 2006 to rave reviews. It was made into a movie starring Viggo Mortensen and released this past November. I didn't hear of it, and I don't think it got much run. It looks pretty good, though.

I began reading the book (almost 300 pages) last Wednesday. I finished Friday night. It was a quick read, but it was also that good.

McCarthy uses sparse punctuation -- no quotation marks, no apostrophes and very few commas, extra space between paragraphs, and no chapter breaks to create a book that reflects its content: a bleak, monotonous world destroyed by some unknown apocalypse. A layer of ash covers everything: dead trees, dead grass, deserted towns and buildings, even rivers, and especially the road.

On this road, a man and his young son wander this depressing landscape, scavenging out an existence. They wear homemade cloth masks to save their lungs from the ash. They carry only a few things: a gun with a couple bullets, their clothes, and whatever they can fit inside an old grocery cart: food, clothes, tools, and a few small toys for the boy (his age is never given, though he must be around 6-8 years old). They are headed for the coast, though they don't know what awaits them there.

Making their journey more complicated are the roving bands of survivors who have devolved into a barbaric, tribal way of life. For our man and his boy, to be caught by anyone else would mean either death or a horrible existence.

Since nothing grows, food must be scavenged. As a result, nearly everyone else they come across has turned to cannibalism. The world has become a savage place.

Yet our man and his boy represent redemption. Several times, they mention to each other that they "carry the fire." We learn that the man is intelligent and honorable. He cannot bring himself to quit: he lives on, and he does everything and anything he can to make sure his son lives. Their love and struggle to continue give us hope.

Given such a bleak, hopeless world, McCarthy does a wonderful job concluding the book. I really enjoyed it. I only wish it was longer. I look forward to seeing the movie, and hopefully reading some of McCarthy's other work.

Updates

2010-04-07T10:44:00.001-04:00

First, apologies for the long blackout. I really did have things to write here, but I've run into computer troubles, and... I've been busy elsewise. No excuse really, but so be it.

The things keeping me busy are work: finally. Not just school work, either.

The professor of one of my education courses mentioned in the previous post is also the Assistant Principal at the Middle School where I have been a substitute the last school year and a half. A few weeks ago, after one day as a sub, I dropped by his office with a question. He had one for me, too.

"Hey, do you play baseball?"

"Umm... yeah. Well, I did when I was younger."

"Would you like to coach baseball here?"

So I'm coaching the B team at the Middle School. Tryouts start this afternoon. I bought myself a new glove last week and played catch a couple times this weekend, trying to break it in. I'm excited.

The following day, the same AP emailed me and asked if I'd be interested in a regular position at the Middle School. It turned out they had a paraprofessional position opening up and he thought of me for it.

So for the past 2 weeks, I've been working one-on-one with a student in the 7th grade with a high-functioning form of autism. He's a bright kid, and I'm enjoying it so far. It's not my ideal teaching position, but it's good experience and exposure to the needs of disabled students.

These are all good things. I've also finished a few books, which I'm hoping to review and get up here in the next few days.

Night School, or Max Weber and the Narcissistic Protestant Work Ethic

2010-02-09T10:32:00.005-05:00

I started school a couple weeks ago. At nearby New England College, I'm taking some Masters in Education courses. I'm also taking an undergraduate history course.

It's nice being back in school. By the time I quit school a few years ago, I didn't appreciate it. I was burned out. But I'm motivated now. I'm going at it with purpose. It feels good to work at something meaningful, something that will improve me and my resume.

According to Max Weber, Protestants have been imbued with a work ethic unlike any other culture. Protestants believe that work is good for its own sake, but it also provides the person with happiness and wealth, the ability to buy things -- which, in turn, help provide happiness. When one isn't working, the devil may slip in and work his evil charms.

I have a deep-rooted sense of this Protestant work ethic. It has been very hard for me over the past couple of years not having steady work. I've felt unsettled, unsatisfied, unhappy.

But now I feel I have something to work for, some specific goal, some self-improvement, some way to bring me closer to whatever higher purpose my life is eventually destined to serve. For I do believe that I am supposed to do something big, something meaningful, something significant. Perhaps this is narcissism, but I prefer to look at it as a healthy selfishness.

Book Review: The Memory of Old Jack

2010-01-19T11:57:00.003-05:00

Finished my first book of 2010: The Memory of Old Jack by Wendell Berry.

The novel is set in a small Kentucky town in 1952 and centers on Jack Beechum, a 92-year-old farmer nearing his death. We are introduced to the fictional town of Port William, as well as a few characters in the town. As Old Jack remembers his life, we see the development of both the town and some of its inhabitants. Through these, we are given a look at a part of America that is disappearing or being forgotten: the small farmer and the tight-knit small community.

Old Jack was born just before the Civil War, and indeed the war plays an integral part in his childhood. 2 of his older brothers are killed in the war, and soon after his mother dies, largely from grief. His father hangs on to the family farm (passed down from his father) until his death when Jack is 18. From then on, Jack works the farm until a few years before his own demise. He marries, has a daughter, and lives a simple, hard, noble life. His marriage is not perfect, his daughter refutes his country lifestyle, but Jack passes on his love of his land to his neighbors and friends.

The book is short on dialogue because Jack seems to understand things on an unspoken, emotional level: his relationship with his wife, other women, his neighbors and even an employee who doesn't last for long. He just knows and feels things, and people respect him for it. He is the embodiment of the strong, silent type.

While there is not much plot to this novel, that is not the point. Berry's prose is the star of this book. His descriptions of Jack's mind slipping into the past and his memories are astounding. Berry's words to illustrate how we remember things are perfect. They give us a wonderful visual sense of Jack's life.

But even more, Berry gives us a visceral depiction of Jack's connection to his land. Where Jack feels most at home is in his fields, using his animals to work his crops (mostly tobacco, but countless other domestic products). He lives simply, but beautifully. There is a nobility, an honor in Jack's fierce individualism, his hard work, his trust in his own hands to plow a life out of the rich Kentucky soil. Jack asks for no help save that which is necessary to reciprocate come harvesting time. He is the steward of his little piece of earth, and he takes his role seriously.

It is nearly impossible for a single farmer to remain economically viable today. Industrial agriculture and government-subsidized corporate agrobusiness rule the land. The Old Jacks of America have all but disappeared. Yet there are signs of a resurgence of small, responsible agriculture; cooperative farms have sprung up across the country.

It is possible that Berry romanticizes the old way of life too much. Yet it is hard to argue against something that has been human for thousands of years: living off of what a person can make sprout from the hard earth. As with so many things, perhaps one can't truly appreciate it unless one has done it. But Berry brings me as close as I've ever gotten.

The Goodness of "No"

2010-01-10T11:02:00.005-05:00

We all know that American party politics are silly. Democrats and Republicans throw out accusations at each other, attempting to discredit the other or make them sound bad. Most of the time the tables are turned in a matter of months, with one party calling out the other for the exact same thing in reverse.

For instance, I've heard a lot of Democrats recently calling Republicans "The Party of No". Just this morning on "Meet the Press", good ol' Virginia outgoing governor Timmy Kaine criticized Republicans for "saying no to everything."

Here's the problem: saying "No" is not a bad thing. Maybe Timmy forgot but it was actually a good thing when Democrats (some of them) said "No" to the war in Iraq. Maybe it would be good if someone stood up to Obama now and said "No" to escalating the unwinnable war in Afghanistan.

Maybe it would have been a good thing if someone had said "No" to federal laws which mandated that home mortgages be given to borrowers who couldn't afford them -- the collapse of which precipitated our current economic recession.

Maybe it would have been a good thing if someone had said "No" to the invasions of American citizens' privacy contained in the Patriot Act and numerous other pieces of legislation enacted during the Fear after 9/11.

In fact, I would venture a guess that more damage comes from those in power not saying "No" than comes from those same people slowing down, examining what they are being asked to approve and actually questioning and stopping something that will cause more harm than good.

This is the problem with American politics. Instead of identifying problems, and working efficiently to solve them, using historical facts for comparison and tradition as a solid basis, our politicians just go about calling each other names, attempting to discredit their opponents, and making pointless, stupid accusations from their "talking points." Instead of thinking critically and pragmatically (or realistically) about what needs to be done, politicans think about how to make their opponents look worse or themselves look better... often in that order.

To me, saying "No" is a good thing. It illustrates that you think critically; that you don't just assume someone means well and accept what they're selling you. Moreover, to criticize someone for "always saying No" doesn't tell me that they're wrong, it tells me that you're an idiot who either can't think for himself, or doesn't think others should think for themselves.

And you wonder why I question the usefulness of representative democracy.

2010 Reading List

2010-01-07T15:25:00.004-05:00

I've been putting together my 2010 reading list. Here's what I've come up with so far.

The New Republic, John Lukacs
- A history of the United States in the 20th century by the best historian of the last half-century, originally published in 1981 I think. I'm already halfway through it.

The Big House, George Howe Colt
- Got a copy of this, as did all my siblings, for Christmas. I had the idea for this very book, including the title, about 4 or 5 years ago.

The Memory of Old Jack, Wendell Berry
- The first in a series of novels based in a fictional Kentucky town.* I've heard much about Berry's agrarianist thought and I'm interested in reading it.

*Interestingly, I've actually been to this man's home in a small Kentucky town. My Dad -- who gave me this book -- is fascinated by his writing. On a road trip to Wisconsin several years ago with my parents, we three stopped in Berry's small town and eventually found his residence so my Dad could meet him. I thought it was kinda creepy.

Outliers, Malcom Gladwell
- I started this book one day while substituting at a middle school last fall. I found it on the teacher's desk, cracked it open while the students were working, and couldn't put it down. By the end of the school day, I was almost 100 pages into it -- about a third of the book.

At Fenway, Dan Shaughnessy
- Shaughnessy, or "CHB"*, writes sports columns for the Boston Globe and is the idiot responsible for creating the "Curse of the Bambino" in a book of that name he published a while ago. He's basically a muckraker and a jackass, but will occasionally write some decent stuff. This book was given to me as a gift a couple years ago and I've never gotten around to reading it.

*"CHB" stands for "Curly-Haired Boyfriend". The term refers to Shaughnessy's curly hair, of course, and was coined by the famously cantankerous Carl Everett, a Red Sox player of the late 1990s/early 2000s. He was not a fan of the writer, and once threw out the nickname to another journalist. It stuck.

The Decline of the West, Oswald Spengler
- This book outlines a theory concerning human civilizations. Basically, the theory goes that all great civilizations are cyclical, with a beginning, middle and end. Spengler used the four seasons to illustrate the rise and fall of the civilizations throughout history, and to make his argument that Western civilization has entered its "winter" phase, meaning that it's almost dead. He wrote this in the 1920s.

Men at Work, George Will
- Yes, that George Will. Another baseball book. Another gift I haven't read yet.

Wish list -- or, books I don't own but would like to read:
- the aforementioned Outliers
- Blink, Malcolm Gladwell
- Freakonomics
- The Book of Basketball, Bill Simmons
- The Road, Cormac McCarthy (pretty much anything by him)
- any of the Rabbit books by John Updike (I got halfway through Rabbit, Run once.)
- The Machine: (large subtitle about the 1975 Cincinnati Reds), Joe Posnanski

That's it. Obviously, I'm gonna have to find some more books to get to my goal of 20 this year. I'll take suggestions, recommendations, and donations.

What I Read in 2009

2010-01-04T16:54:00.003-05:00

Since I didn't do a full-length review of everything I read this past year, I'm just gonna post the list I had and perhaps add a few notes here and there. This is mostly just to help myself remember what I read last year.

Feeding the Monster: How Money, Smarts, and Nerve Took a Team to the Top, by Seth Mnookin
- A good behind-the-scenes look at the Red Sox during the period when the new ownership took over, through the 2005 season. It also includes a brief history of the franchise up to that point. Mnookin was apparently given unequaled access to the locker room, players, owners and front office personnel.
The writing is not particularly great -- the game descriptions are notably bland -- but the book does include stories that even the most die-hard Sox fans probably have not heard. Particularly interesting to me was the background on John Henry, Larry Lucchino and Tom Werner and how their bid to buy the Sox unfolded. It's a quick read, and definitely interesting for any Sox fan, or anyone interested in the business of baseball.

Hang Time: Days and Dreams with Michael Jordan, by Bob Greene
- An untraditional biography of Jordan. Greene was a newspaper columnist who did not write about sports. He became interested in Jordan during the 1990-1991 season, attended the home games, and eventually befriended Jordan. This was the season the Bulls first won the championship. As their friendship grows, Greene gets more in-depth at how Jordan's fame and success have affected his life. MJ was so famous at that time, he couldn't leave his hotel room on the road. He was mobbed everywhere he went. Greene captures the loneliness and isolation Jordan was feeling; and contrasts it with the generosity, love and goodwill of Jordan off the court.
It's a very good book, published after the Bulls 2nd championship in 1992, and interesting to look back on now that we've had almost 2 decades to see Jordan retire and come back a couple times, then witness his bitter Hall of Fame speech this past fall.

The Brothers Karamazov, by Fyodor Dostoyevsky
- I love Dostoyevsky. His characters are magnificently drawn and developed, his themes are universal and timeless, his messages are meaningful, and his style is unparalleled. If there is a better novelist, I've not read him or her. Having said all of that, I feel like I needed to take a class to understand this book. It's over 900 thick pages. While reading it, I felt that if I could just get through it and familiarize myself with it, then I would eventually be able to return to it and possibly understand it fully, perhaps in a few years. I still feel that way. There's a lot to take in. I mean, I did grasp a lot of it and when I did I was blown away. But I feel like I just scratched the surface.

The Last Lecture, by Randy Pausch
- My Mom gave me this book, and for most of you reading my blog, she gave it to you too. It's a worthwhile read full of life lessons from a guy diagnosed with terminal cancer. He died in the summer of 2008, leaving behind 3 young children and a wife. It's a sad story, yet throughout the book, Pausch never sinks into self-pity or unnecessary preaching. He merely gives useful, thoughtful advice and insights about how to live a successful live, using examples from his own experience. It's well-written and touching.

Charlotte's Web, by E. B. White
- Alright, I read this one while I was substituting in the 5th grade last spring. But it had been a long time since I'd read it, and I was struck again by how good it is. It's very simple, easy for young readers, yet full of themes with which even adults can identify: friendship, loyalty, and respect for life.

Cool It: A Skeptical Environmentalist's Guide to Global Warming, by Bjorn Lomborg
- For those of you who have only heard what Al Gore tells you, here's the answer. Lomborg (a Danish economist and pretty smart mofo) is much more reasonable. Look, the earth is heating up. That much we're sure of. But it's not as bad as Gore makes it out to be, nor is it a sure thing that humans are actually causing all of it (we're undoubtedly contributing to at least some of it, but what percentage is up for debate). For instance, polar bears are NOT dying because of global warming; in fact, more of them die as a result of HUNTING each year than of loss of habitat or other factors resulting from global warming. Also, the figures Gore used to illustrate that Florida will disappear in the next 100 years are ludicrous. Most rational scientists put their stock in ocean-rise figures that are much smaller and will hardly have an effect in the next 100 years.
Lomborg's argument, then, is that we need to stop using outrageous, sensationalist language when discussing global warming. Yes, it's a problem, he says, but there are far worse problems facing humanity right now. And the solutions we've come up with are immensely costly and ultimately nearly worthless in combating warming. What we need instead is a rational approach to prioritizing global problems (like hunger, disease, access to clean water, aiding developing countries, and yes global warming) and then addressing them in a calm, logical manner.

Kennan: A Writing Life, by Dr. Lee Congdon
- I wrote up a little review of this one at Goodreads here. Dr. Congdon was my favorite History professor at JMU. He published this book last winter, and sent me an inscribed copy. To me it was nice because it was like being back in one of his classes.

The Metamorphosis and Other Stories, by Franz Kafka
- I read The Trial, Kafka's masterpiece, a couple of years ago and loved it. "The Metamorphosis" is a pretty quick, short story about a young bank clerk who awakens one day to find that he has been transformed into a six-foot tall bug. Over the next few weeks, we watch his family (he lives with and is the breadwinner for his sister and parents) shut him in his room and treat him with disgust, while he slowly loses his human thoughts and traits. Finally, when he dies, his family is freed from their obligation to him and are able to continue their lives in a happier manner.
Kafka's writing illustrates things about the frustrating nature of modern life. The triviality, the absurdity, the paranoia, all the things that make us feel less than human; these are what Kafka describes. It's too bad that by now he's basically become a meaningless adjective for people who want to sound smart.

Moby Dick, by Herman Melville
- For a book often described as the closest thing to the Great American Novel, there's an awful lot about whale anatomy. Half of the book is basically an encyclopedia about whales and the now-defunct industry of whaling. However, it is redeemed by the fact that Ahab has become a legendary figure in our literary and cultural history; the "White Whale" has become a well-known metaphor for chasing something one can never quite catch; and the classic opening line. There are those, like Keith Law, who despise this book.* He does have some good criticisms of the book. It is long; it's wordy; it's dated; the characters are one-dimensional; the plot is non-existent. However, it is worth reading. It's probably like The Brothers K in that it would be nice to discuss in an English class, though. Certainly not light, summer reading.

*By the way, Keith Law is definitely worth checking out. He's a baseball scout who writes for ESPN.com, but his personal blog I've linked to there is about other things: mainly literature, food and other interests. He reads A LOT and posts reviews, which often lead to interesting discussions much more high-minded and intelligent than most things you'll find on the internets.

Hope you made it through all that.

Chilly

2010-01-03T16:46:00.002-05:00

It looks like this outside.

So I made this.

2010 Goals

2010-01-02T16:20:00.004-05:00

Generic? Sure. Worthwhile? Probably. So here are a few goals for me for this year. Why not?

1. Find a permanent, full-time teaching job. Sounds easier than it is. I was told that for one of the positions for which I interviewed this past spring, there were over 50 applicants. And that was in the bad school district. I can only imagine the number at the good school where I become one of 4 or 5 people who actually got an interview. Hopefully your tax dollars will pull us out of this recession soon so I don't have to compete with half of New Hampshire for a job this year.

2. Begin taking classes toward a Master's in Education. Should be easy enough, and should help toward goal #1. I also would love to finish the Master's in History that I started a few years ago. Unfortunately, there is not a college in NH that offers such a program. I'd have to go to Boston, or do one long-distance.

3. Read 20 books. In 2009, I tried to read 12, but only made it to 10. But hey, one of those 10 was a 900-page Dostoyevsky novel. And I got halfway through a thick history of America in the 20th century. Oh, and Moby Dick. I'm not reading 200-page chick-lit novels which can be finished in an afternoon on the beach. Alright, I'm justifying. So why double my goal from what I accomplished? Because really, I should be reading a lot more than I do. I'm gonna come up with a list of books I intend to read this year -- when I do, I'll post it. I'd like to have comments on things I've read, which is why I've posted several reviews of things I've read in the past.

4. Write more. Not necessarily here; though that's included under this blanket statement. No, what I have in mind is more in a lot of different ways. I intend to keep a daily journal, write a few short stories, and perhaps start a full-length novel.

5. Climb at least TWO 46er Adirondack Mountains. I just got some nice hiking shoes for my birthday. This goal may be hampered by the recurrence of a nagging knee injury, but as soon as I get my government-sponsored health insurance, I'm sure that will be cleared right up.

There are lots of other things I hope to do -- eat healthier, use my boat more, and so on -- but those are not quite goals, more like lifestyle changes. And they're kinda boring.

Death in Venice: A Review

2009-12-21T17:04:00.005-05:00

I read The Magic Mountain by Thomas Mann when I was in graduate school. It was over 700 pages and it took me a long time to slog through. Mann's prose is incredibly dense. And he crams all kinds of literary devices into his writing: symbolism, leitmotif, foreshadowing, on and on. I enjoyed the book, and the more I reflected on it, the more I appreciated it. But I can't help thinking I missed out on a lot of stuff that just went right over my head.

When I was in Europe in 2004, I traveled a few days with a friend from my hometown and her boyfriend. He had brought Death in Venice with him for reading. I'd brought a not especially good biography of J. R. R. Tolkien. Clearly, he made the better choice. But I never got around to reading Death until last week. I wish I had.

I picked it up a couple weeks ago while in a small bookstore in New London, NH for 2 bucks. I dived into it a few days later. Again, Mann's prose can be dense. His sentences are notorious for being unwieldingly long and complex. One can only imagine the herculean task of translating them from German to English. However, in Death, Mann intersperses these lengthy sentences with short, stacatto sentences. So while parts are tough to wade through, the book does move along pretty quickly. It also helps that it's only 60-some pages.

But boy does Mann get a lot into this short story. It's ostensibly the story of a 50-something aging German writer who travels to the title city for a little vacation before making his way to his winter home in the Bavarian countryside. While in Venice, our protagonist (Gustav von Aschenbach) becomes infatuated with a young teenage boy. While his love remains unrequited to the end, Aschenbach's emotions get the better of him and become his downfall.

But this is no morality play. Mann is not railing against homosexuality or pedophilia. In fact, there is not a single mention of any sexual feelings. Aschenbach's love, though incredibly strong, does not seem romantic. Instead, he loves the boy (named Tadzio) for his beauty. Time and again, Mann describes Tadzio in terms of a Greek statue; his hair is "golden" and his skin is "marble."

The Greek allusions don't end there, either. Mythological references abound, and indeed, the major problem of the story is Mann's musings on an ancient Greek dichotomy: Apollonian vs. Dionyssian worldviews. The Apollonian philosophy is one of a hard-won life: strict, stoic, rigidly logical and hard-working. But this is not to say unenjoyable. The Dionyssian, in contrast, is emotional: wild, loose, carefree, yet with an element of death and destruction perhaps hidden.

At the beginning of the story, we are told that Aschenbach has made a highly respectable career and name* for himself by following the Apollonian path. He follows a strict daily schedule, and forces himself to exert his energy for his work. Yet when he arrives in Venice, he throws off this rigidity and quickly abandons himself to his Dionyssian whims, which become entirely about watching and admiring Tadzio.

*Quite literally. In the story, a royal German ruler bestows nobility on Aschenbach -- hence the "von" before his surname.

As we move with Aschenbach toward his inevitable end, we see death creeping in from everywhere. There are several "death figures" throughout the story, including the gondolier who takes Aschenbach from his Mediterranean ship to his hotel landing. The similarities to the Ancient Greek ferryman on the River Styx are obvious. The first of the gondolier's few words are simple and ominous: "You will pay."

And during the last several scenes, we see Aschenbach desperately attempting to discover the secret which it seems is cleaning out the city: a plague has arrived and is being hidden from tourists by the city's fathers. Yet even when he is told what is really happening, Aschenbach is too far gone to force himself to real action: he won't leave Tadzio.

I really enjoyed this story. Mann's writing is masterful. The style mirrors the plot when it needs to. His prose can be highly stylized and descriptive, or simple and informative. His themes are human and relatable. If you're looking for something worthwhile and classic, I highly recommend Death in Venice. It's a pretty quick read, and definitely thought-provoking. You'll find yourself wishing you were in a literature class so you could discuss everything about it.

And just for fun, a few pics from my visit to Venice in 2004.

Slee's Rants

2009-10-26T15:42:00.001-04:00

Gotta give a quick link to my former roommate. He's having trouble landing a job. Sounds familiar.

On Memory

2009-10-22T13:30:00.004-04:00

This is something I wrote about a year ago. Not sure why I never posted it.

Our thoughts, our memories, are fleeting. Our memories are not perfect. They are moving, dancing, changing, leaving us. We chase them down, mold them into what fits the present, but they are never what happened exactly.

Over time you may have a memory that you vividly remember. It may be a rather poignant or significant or appropriate memory of an event. As such, you tell the story often. But through the course of telling and retelling it, the story changes. You may not notice the change, and most probably won't because you want to tell the story as it was, because you believe that it is so perfectly suited for illustrating some nugget of truth about human life that you don't think it needs embellishment. But our memories change. Our telling of them, our thinking about them, the way we call them to mind in present situations - these all change our memories. It is impossible, by the very nature of time and space, for our remembered events to be completely the way they happened.

Even our best attempts to capture events -- photographs, video and audio recordings -- even these are false remembrances of how the events actually occured.

But what does all this mean? After all, all we can truly know with any validity or truth is the past -- what has already happened. Should we then distrust human intelligence and memory? Because it is indeed fallible, and so often is entirely or partly wrong, should we have no concern over what has happened before?

It is a strange thing, thinking about what one has thought about before. In one instant, a person can have a totally involuntary, naturally-occuring, instinctual thought -- one that comes from seemingly nowhere, or is a response to some sort of stimulus. But on the heels of that new, unplanned thought, one can reflect on it and think about it rationally, considering from where it came, why it occured, indeed the way it passed through one's brain. Why did I think that? What does it mean? Why does it have to mean anything? What was I doing when it occured? How was I different then I am now, as I consider it in completely different tones? How am I different than I was for having thought it?

Or are these simply idle thoughts? What do they really matter in the grand course of human existence? No doubt people have thought things for thousands of years, and for just as long they have thought about what they think, and why they think what they think. Why am I now so engrossed in reflecting on something that for everyone else was merely passing, unimportant thoughts? Or do others think these things, but simply never speak up on account of how silly it would appear? It IS ultimately irrelevant to human life. But we do plenty of things that are irrational and only serve to hamper us in our pursuit of life -- whatever we choose to pursue. Why should thinking about thinking be any different?

Avett Bros: A Review

2009-10-19T11:42:00.002-04:00

The Avetts new album, "I and Love and You" has been out for a few weeks now, and I drove through wet snow to see them last night at the House of Blues in Boston, so I figure it's time for a review of both.

I've been a huge fan of the Avetts for a couple years now, snatching up anything I can find that they've recorded. I've got all of their records on my iPod, and I've got all of them on heavy rotation. But the strength of the Brothers is their live shows. They've got seemingly limitless energy; are accomplished, diverse* musicians, and legitimately enjoy being on stage, feeding off a crowd's energy. It's a rare thing, I think, to really connect with a group of musicians as a part of a faceless crowd; but that's what they accomplish.

*It's fun to watch the brothers switch instruments for nearly every song. Both of them play the drums and piano; one plays guitar and a foot-powered high-hat while the other plays banjo and a kick drum. Sometimes they even alternate verses while they're singing. Obviously they're great musicians and take pride in their craft.

Throughout their existence, the Avetts have had a really unique sound in popular music, using bluegrass instruments (banjo, stand-up bass, cello) and rhythms infused with a rock, almost punk-like sensibility to create songs ranging from foot-stomping ragers to toe-tappers to heart-breaking ballads. On their last album, however, one could sense that they were moving a different direction. They began incorporating a full drum set into their percussion and the bluegrass elements were taking a backseat to the backbeat of rock and roll. All in all, though, the songs were still beautiful and fun.

On "I&L&U", the Brothers have nearly completed their progression into a full-fledged, 4-part rock band. Drums are incorporated into almost every song. Instead of banjo-driven melodies, piano plays the major role. The resultant music is not bad -- in fact, it's still miles ahead of the electronic drivel played on today's top 40 radio and the same old tired classic rock that pretends to off an alternative to the former -- but it is decidedly NOT what the Avetts cultivated. It begins to sound like well-written, well-performed variations on Beatles tunes. Again, not a bad comparison, just not what's expected from the Avetts.

I don't want to sound like some pretentious music critic pining for the "older stuff" of a formerly lesser-known band, and lambasting their popular, newer music. This is a common dynamic. At the show last night, the boys still had all the energy and power they had when I first saw them a year ago. The venue was bigger and we had some jerks in our view of the stage, but I still enjoyed the hell out of the show.

But once again, I felt just a little, tiny bit disappointed. They played nearly every song from the new album (with the exception of the titular track and one of my favorites, "Ill With Want."), and sprinkled in a few older tunes. A couple times they really let loose and we got the head-banging, foot-pounding raw energy that makes their live shows so dynamic.* And we got a few moments of heart-breaking, poignant ballads.** But these moments were a little more rare than expected. The rest was a respectable, fun rock show. Again, not a bad thing, just not the transcendance I've come to expect. Of course, this could be simply a matter of me building too lofty expectations.

*Laundry Room; Tin Man; Wanted Man; and Talk on Indolence.

**Tear Down the House; Living of Love; Left on Laura, Left on Lisa; Perfect Space and an amazing closing of the night with If It's the Beaches

For what it's worth, I'm still a huge fan. I will listen to "I and Love and You" along with all of the rest of the Avetts' music. Just know that I'm a little disappointed that I may have missed the glory days of this band, when their drive seemed a little more raw and powerful. All this is not to say that they can't recapture that... but it seems as if they've decided to move away from it.

More Pictures

2009-10-12T12:59:00.004-04:00

We've entered peak foliage season here in New England, and I went up to the same spot in my back yard to get some photos. Enjoy!

Mount Kearsarge is there in the distance.

A couple panoramic shots. Turned out nice, I think.

Jealous? You're jealous...

Nanny Statism

2009-10-08T17:23:00.002-04:00

I just found this today. It's probably not a big deal, because it really has no chance of passing, but what bothers me is the quote from our president. Did he even think about what he was saying before he said it? I mean, why not say that you think it might be a good idea to ban alcohol, butter and salt? Or while we're at it, how about you just give us a list of government-certified foods? Then let's ban television, since our kids watch too much of it.

Like I said, I'm blowing this a little out of proportion since it's got no shot at becoming a reality. But this is absurd. We can't just tax anything that we think should be limited, or eliminated gradually. Hey, Uncle Sam, how about you go back to just protecting me from those who would do me harm and/or King George, and let me worry about what I put in my body? Then I might pay taxes.

Pictures!

2009-09-19T12:34:00.011-04:00

As you can see up top, I've changed my banner picture. It was taken about noon today, from what is basically my back yard. You can see the lake on which I live, and Mt. Kearsarge in the distance.

As I've mentioned before, I live on an old summer camp that's been converted to a sort of retreat area. At the large lodge, they often have weddings. And by often I mean pretty much every weekend when the weather's nice. They also have a little cathedral area set up in this clearing in the woods. It's about a 5-minute hike to it. In the clearing they have several rough-hewn wooden benches and a stone altar, which you can clearly see here.

I snapped several pictures this afternoon and decided on the one above. The one below was also an option.

What do you think? Did I make the right choice?

Here's another shot from the "cathedral."

But I think that one works better in black and white.

The other night I took my new boat out for some fishing. It was twilight, and L came down to the shore and snapped a few shots of me. Enjoy.

I Like Mine With Extra Cheese

2009-09-16T19:54:00.003-04:00

Mmmm... wood-fired tiger-cat.

You're a Liar, Sir

2009-09-13T11:08:00.005-04:00

Alright, I know you're waiting, so I'm gonna go ahead and weigh in on this Joe Wilson "You lie!" fracas.

First, it seems that the real anger is not so much over whether or not Wilson was right -- whether Obama's line about not providing insurance to illegal aliens (or undocumented immigrants, if you prefer) was true, the real furor is over... well... what, exactly? Why is it so maddening that one Congressman shouted out a couple words during a speech? What's the big deal?

Yeah, it was kinda rude, and out of character for our legislature, but it's not as if shouting angry words -- or worse -- is completely against all rules and history. I mean, in the 1800s, one congressman beat a Senator with his cane... ON THE FLOOR OF THE SENATE. In Korea, they don't consider things out of hand until punches are thrown -- violent, angry words are the norm.

This does not excuse what Wilson did, but again, what's the big deal? The President was taking the opportunity, as is his right, to address a joint session of Congress, full of people who agree with him and disagree vehemently with him. It is his right to address Congress, but it is rare, and it is always at the invitation and hosting of Congress. Wilson was therefore perhaps being a rude host, but he was not stepping beyond his bounds.

Here's the thing: Obama used primetime national TV to deliver his message. This is extremely fruitful for him: it's the best and fastest way to get your argument out in as widespread a manner as possible. This was a monologue with no chance for opponents to voice their own arguments in as useful a way. One Congressman -- in one of those moments where everyone is yelling, and then suddenly the room goes silent, but your voice rings out because you were a little late to the yelling -- expressed his opinion, and suddenly, he's some backwoods, racist jerk who should be censured, kicked out of office and sent back to his home. It's a farce.

I've been on the floor of the VA House of Delegates when nearly 50 delegates stood up, began shouting, and banged their desks in an attempt to drown out the Speaker. Loud, angry words and antics on the floor of a legislature are not unusual. Again, there is no reason to blow this out of proportion. In fact, by calling for a public apology, those who are angry with Wilson have probably only deepened and widened the debate about health care reform, and caused a further divide on an already polarizing issue, when what is needed to pass the damn thing is clear-headed cooperation.

Finally, it appears that both Obama AND Mr. Wilson were right: there is language in the health-care bills that specifically calls for no coverage for "undocumented immigrants." However, it is currently widely accepted that illegal aliens are able to get health care because there are no real enforcement measures to stop them. A few states have begun requiring that birth certificates be displayed to receive insurance coverage, but even still, under federal law, hospital emergency rooms are required to give at least basic care to everyone, including illegal aliens, for which the federal government then reimburses them. Hence, in essence, the federal government ALREADY pays for health care for undocumented immigrants. This loophole would not be closed by health care reform, and indeed, it is not unreasonable to assume that more people would take advantage of it.

PS. Isn't there something oddly poetic in Wilson's two words? He could have said it differently: "You're a liar!" or "That's a lie!" or "You're lying!" or "Erroneous!" or "Shenanigans!", but none of those would have had the same power and effect as two quick syllables: "You lie!" I just thought that was interesting.

Here's What I Don't Get

2009-09-11T19:41:00.003-04:00

NASCAR. I don't understand it. What is the attraction? What is the excitement? I've asked this question of people for years, and I've yet to get a definitive, acceptable answer. I have many varied thoughts on this subject, so bear with me while I riff.

I've had people who I respect tell me that being at a race is an incredible experience: it's like the state fair.* Which I can sort of understand. There's definitely nothing better than being somewhere, surrounded by lots of people, and having the time of your life; there's an excitement in the air, everyone's riding high (I would guess lots of Bud Light supplies this feeling, but perhaps all the carbon monoxide has something to do with it too), we're all fat and happy, it's hot (since NASCAR is predominantly a southern sport) and everyone's having a good time. I get that. It's why music concerts are fun. But really, what does that have to do with the actual "sport" of car racing? I mean, getting drunk with a bunch of rednecks is gonna be fun, even if you're not paying $100 to get in.

*Speaking of the state fair, L and I went to the NH state fair last weekend. Her vet office does the animal check-ins for the 4-H kids who bring in their sheep and cows and pigs and stuff. So we got in for free. The biggest attraction at the state fair? The demolition derby. It sells out ahead of time. We walked into the horse pull, which apparently pays out to the winner (the guy who owns the winning horses) tens of thousands of dollars. It was sort of impressive to watch a pair of horses pull multiple tons of concrete, but the people-watching was more impressive. Always good people-watching at the state fair. It's good for the ego.

Another thing that has always bothered me: NASCAR is not exactly good for the environment. Our government is debating implementing what is basically a tax on carbon emissions, and this sport is based on dumping tons of carbon into the atmosphere... for fun. How is this OK? How has no liberal New England congressman introduced a bill to ban car racing? It doesn't make sense. Hey, I grew up in the South, I understand: Southerners like to kill shit. Hunting, fishing, fireworks, racism, Tim McGraw*, the English language...

*Didn't he kill country music? Or was it already dead?

But really, what if I came up with a sport like Competitive Forest-Cutting, or the River-Polluting Championships? Would those become popular? Isn't this roughly the same thing?

Finally, other than watching for the wrecks, which is morbid and rather juvenile, what is the appeal for watching cars go around? Seriously. I really would like to hear a good explanation, because I just don't get it. I mean, I sort of understand bike racing, but even that is pretty damn boring and the French love it. And I like fast cars. There's still a part of me that's a 15-year-old boy that would like to drive a Ferrari or some other amazing fast car. But how is it exciting to watch American cars go around and around?

I'm On a Boat!

2009-09-05T20:43:00.003-04:00

For the past several weeks, I've been painting this dude's house. He's got an old colonial home in town, built in the 1700s. It's quite an impressive home, and a new coat of paint is really beautifying it. It never ceases to impress me how a simple paint job can refresh a house.

This week a couple small boats appeared at the end of my driveway with a "FREE" sign on them. One was a small, one-person sailboat, and the other is another small sailboat in rough shape (it doesn't even include the mast and sail), but with a little love and work it could be nice.

Anyway, last weekend my client bought a rowboat from some summer-homeowners at a nearby lake. It had a small 8-horsepower motor on it, and was great for small pond and lake fishing. Well, this week, after taking out the boat once, my client decided that he didn't like the boat. So he bought a new one. He took the motor from the used boat and put it on the new one.

When I mentioned that I was thinking of grabbing one of the free boats and working on it, he said, "I'll give you the used boat I just got." So he did. He brought it by yesterday, and today I took it out for the first time. It's a very simple rowboat. It's 12 feet long; a V-bottom; and has 3 seats. It's perfect for my small lake and the simple fishing I like to do. I'm pleased.

In other news, this morning there was a "flea market" on the town green here in Andover, NH. It was basically a bunch of old folks selling their old crap, like a giant yard sale. I perused for about an hour, and finally settled on a few things: 3 books, including a hardcover edition of Audobon's birds from 1950; and a few kitchen utensils, including a garlic press -- garlic is used a lot in New England cooking, and I've been making a lot of chowda lately. Good stuff.

Man, I'm Boring

2009-08-21T17:26:00.004-04:00

Apparently my life has been really boring over the last couple of months. Or so it would seem.

Actually, it really hasn't been that bad. In fact, it's been a pretty nice little summer so far. I've been to Lake Champlain twice. I've eaten fish that I caught. Last weekend I had lobster with a bunch of old people from the local Lion's Club. I've been playing a lot of basketball. I've been painting a nearby house for the last couple weeks. I finished a couple books. I've kayaked on the lake on which I live. It's been good times.

I'm hoping to get up soon a review of the Brothers Karamazov, which I finally finished a couple weeks ago.

I'm headed to NYC next weekend -- there should be good stories from that.

Meanwhile, keep bringing firearms to Obama's town hall meetings, and love your children.

Quechee Balloon Festival

2009-06-25T09:51:00.008-04:00

This past weekend, L and I took about an hour trip up to Quechee (pronounced "Kwee-chee"), Vermont for their 30th annual Balloon Festival. It's like a small fair, with plenty of arts and crafts tents, food, music, and of course, hot air balloons.

There were also the New England Disc Dogs, of which, sadly, we did not get any pictures. They were fun to watch though.

It was a muggy, gray, overcast day. Rain threatened but held off all day. We watched a few balloons take off.

Note the people in the basket.

This one took off across the river.

But the balloons weren't the only attraction. The town, like so many in New England, is an old mill town.

And it has a covered bridge.

And a dam.

Beau and I like to play in the mist from the dam.

And finally, we watched the Cowboy Teddy Bear giving people rides. Unfortunately, L didn't capture my reenactment of the Bear's pose, with my arms out wide.

I and Love and You

2009-06-23T11:38:00.004-04:00

Just got my tickets to see the Avett Brothers in Boston at the House of Blues in October. They went on pre-sale this morning, and I couldn't wait. The HoB is on Lansdowne St., right behind Fenway Park.

I've mentioned these guys a few times here before, and yes, I will again. In fact, here's a live video of them performing the title track from their new album, which won't be released until September.

So there you go. It's a beautiful song. If you get the chance to see this guys soon, do it. In fact, here's a link to their tour dates. They play in Richmond on July 11, if you're in that area.

Update (6/24): Here's a link to download that song . And you should be able to simply right-click on this one, and save it as an mp3 directly to your computer. They just released the single this morning.

No, It's a Cardigan! But Thanks for Noticing!

2009-06-02T17:43:00.006-04:00

Ah, nothing like a Dumb and Dumber quote for a post title.

On Sunday, I woke up to a beautiful late May day. It appeared to be everything that can be gorgeous about New England. It was sunny with perfect blue skies almost painful to look at, and only a few small wispy clouds in the air. It promised to be a warm day, perfect for hiking. So that's what L and I decided to do.

L has wanted to climb Mt. Cardigan for a while now. Mt. Cardigan is a fairly short mountain here in central New Hampshire, about 45 minutes away. It is a Monadnock, which is a term for a mountain that stands on its own, apart from any range of peaks. There is another such mountain that rises just beyond the lake in our backyard, named Mt. Kearsarge. We hiked that one in the fall. It was gorgeous with the changing leaves and so forth.

We drove to the Adirondack Mountain Club lodge at the bottom of Cardigan, and got there about 12:30. At this point, the beautiful day had soured. We were now looking at gray skies, scattered raindrops, and blustery winds. It suddenly didn't seem the best day for a hike up a mountain. However, we decided to give it a shot, and get the dog some exercise.

After about an hour and a half, we were nearing the top of the mountain. We felt a few raindrops on our way up, but they were cool and felt nice on our sweaty skin. The wind, however, was really picking up.

Now, the top of Mt. Cardigan is bare rock, the result of a wildfire nearly 150 years ago. When we reached the treeline, a couple hundred yards from the top, the wind really took off. We attempted to scramble up the bare rock to the summit. Finally, about a hundred yards from the top, we called it quits. The wind was whipping (I estimated 50mph, while L put it at closer to 35 -- I was definitely closer; it was strong enough to push me around). It was not pleasant. After pausing long enough to water the dog and scan the horizon, we started back down.

Here's the view from (almost) the summit.

Note the clouds and general darkness. This was about 2:30 in the afternoon.

As we started our decline, we spotted a heavy rainstorm a few miles in the distance. It was moving pretty rapidly toward us. We tried to put the slick rocky surfaces behind us and get back under the cover of the forest before it arrived. Luckily, it never really did.

We stopped after a few hundred yards on the way down, at a decent lookout spot, and had a snack. Here are some photos.

Again, please note the dark clouds in the distance. These served to impair our view.

By the time we reached the bottom of the mountain, the day had cleared up again. When we headed to the car at about 4 pm, I looked up and took this picture of the summit.

Thanks, nature.

Quoth the Raven

2009-05-19T16:50:00.004-04:00

You probably don't care one bit to listen to me moan about my job. But I had to write this to vent. I've had a really tough time over the last couple of weeks after accepting a long-term sub position. I initially turned it down for a variety of reasons, but changed my mind after both the principal and the 6th grade team leader, whom I respect a great deal.

Well, I still haven't heard anything about my dream job for which I interviewed. It's frustrating not hearing anything when I know that they have finished the interview process. I even called this morning and left a message with the secretary. She said that she would pass along my number to the search committee. I'm still hoping that no news is not necessarily bad news.

Meanwhile, I've been teaching 7th grade Reading for the last couple of weeks. It's probably the most challenging thing I have ever done. There are several factors that play into making these children tough:

1. The community and their home-life circumstances (many of them come from broken homes and tough backgrounds -- it's a shame).
2. The fact that they are 12 years old. I'm sure I was just as obnoxious, but holy lord, some of these kids are mind-boggling. There is one in particular who comes into homeroom at 7:30 am, when I'm still waking up, finishing my coffee and resigning myself to the fact that I can't go back to the warmth of my bed -- I can hear this kid coming down the hall. He's a yeller. Everything he says is LOUD. He has no inside voice. It's unbelievable. He yells, screams, makes noises, slams things, moves chairs around, and just generally drives me completely insane.
3. The permanent teacher, before she left, had extreme pain in her hip, which meant that she was unable to control the classroom, which means that I was responsible for a classroom in which all discipline had broken down. Trying to restore order to the chaos is like trying to hold back the water-swell of a hurricane. To get their attention, I have had to yell almost as loud as I can. And I'm 6'3", 225+ lbs, and have a correspondingly big voice. It's really astounding how little respect, fear, and care these kids have.

Anyway, after last week, while I was using the lesson plans the teacher had left me, I decided to try something new. The work she left basically amounted to busy work, with the kids merely reading each day and then completing worksheets. It was boring and frustrating, and made for a bad experience for all of us. Yesterday I made copies of The Raven and we've gone over it the past 2 days. Instead of a nice response, I've gotten more complaints of boredom.

Finally, I decided that for my own sanity, I need to walk away from the situation. Thanks for listening, and we'll return soon to our regularly entertaining, not bitching blog. I'm really looking forward to playing basketball tonight to blow off some steam.

Weekend Wrap and an Opportunity

2009-05-04T18:02:00.003-04:00

I'm gonna try to get going on this thing again. And apologies for the long lay-off.

First, a recap of this weekend in Boston.

I'll spare you the details of Friday night -- mostly because I don't remember all of them. Suffice it to say it was great to see my buddies.

So Saturday we headed down to the Garden a couple hours early to meet my buddy's Dad; the fella who had gotten us the tickets. We met at the Fours -- apparently the #1 Sports Bar in America! -- for dinner. Then we headed into the Garden and made a stop at the pro shop to pick up the appropriate green gear. I already had on a Kelly green polo shirt, but a Paul Pierce T-shirt seemed warranted.

From there, it was into our seats. If you watched the game, you know. It didn't have the drama of Game 6 -- there were no overtime periods or buzzer-beaters. But it did feature plenty of excitement, several lousy officiating calls which we eagerly voiced our opinion on, and a stellar performance from one Eddie House, a fan favorite here in New England.

All in all, it was a magnificent game 7, the crowd was electric, the atmosphere was everything you want for a playoff game, and I was just thrilled to be there. Our seats were even pretty decent. I was about 30 rows up from the C's bench, one section into the corner. Two of my friends were on floor level, only a few rows away from the Bulls bench, and both of them made at least a couple appearances on the telecasts -- one was seen on the TNT broadcast twice, while the other was spotted on the local Comcast New England telecast at least once.

It was pretty amazing.

So I return to New Hampshire optimistic this week, especially about an interview I have Thursday. I am scheduled to meet with the search committee regarding a Social Studies position at the nearby high school where I have done quite a bit of substituting in the last several months. I have gotten to know a few of the teachers fairly well, including a History teacher who is on the search committee, as well as another whose classes are the ones I would be taking over. I have substituted for both the former and the latter on a couple occasions, and even play basketball pretty regularly with the latter. I play pickup ball a couple times a week, and I have gotten to ask him for some advice on what I can do to improve my chances in the interview.

I think this position would be the ideal spot for me: I like the school; the faculty all seem knowledgeable, interesting, committed, and helpful; and it is close to my current residence. Please keep your fingers crossed for me this week!

Celtic Pride

2009-05-01T10:56:00.002-04:00

I know I haven't posted in about 13 weeks. And I know I don't have many NBA fans here, if there's anyone left here. But I gotta post about this Celtics-Bulls series.

Game 1 went to overtime in Boston, and the Bulls pulled out a possible series-swinging victory, stealing home-court advantage from the defending champs. However, Boston came back and took game 2, then went to Chicago and blew out the Bulls on their home court to take back that advantage. In game 4, we had yet another overtime game, including not 1 but 2 overtime sessions. Chicago managed to steal that one.

Game 5, these teams decided we needed another overtime session, and luckily the Celtics used the home-court to get the 3-2 series lead.

And finally, back in Chicago last night, we had a triple-OT thriller which was basically decided when The Ugliest Man on Earth (Joakim Noah) finished a steal and subsequent fast-break three-point play, giving the Bulls a series-tying win. This despite Ray Allen scoring 51 points for the Celtics, including about 7 HUGE three-pointers. AND the Celtics lost 3 players to fouling out.

I think this series has aged me. I have grey hairs now.*

*Actually, about 3 weeks ago, during the middle of my 3-week stint as a 5th grade English teacher, I was in the car with L, and I glanced in the mirror. On my temple I saw a light-colored hair. I turned to L and asked, "Is this a GREY HAIR?? Those damn brats are giving me GREY HAIRS!" I plucked it and it hasn't returned. I think I scared it away. And don't come back, Grey! I'm not even 30. It's not time for you yet.

This series has set new NBA records for overtime games as well as OT periods. Everyone who follows the NBA pretty much agrees that it's the best first-round series ever played. Tom Heinsohn, a Celtics legend who won 9 titles, coached the C's to 2 more, and now calls the games on Comcast Sports New England, was downright giddy by the end of the game last night. Of course, Tommy is known for his blatant homerism, outrageous statements, and just plain ol' silliness. By the end of the game last night, he was giggling about how amazing this series has been, yelling at Celtics players and coaches and apparently even the Bulls cheerleaders, and possibly drinking. Surprisingly, he gave the refs a good grade for the game. Usually, he is the first one to call the referees incompetent or worse.

What's the point of all my rambling? I'm getting there.

Some buddies and I have been planning a guys weekend in Boston for the last couple weeks. A time to spend watching lots of playoff basketball, playing our own basketball, perhaps getting a HR Derby together on nearby little league fields, and just generally carousing about.

A few days ago, one guy who lives in NYC but is from NH, said that he and his Dad would be at game 7 if the series went that long. This morning, he informed us that his Dad had found another 3 tickets.

Tomorrow night. 8pm. Game 7. Celtics-Bulls. I'll be there. It's gonna be awesome.

Wait a Minute...

2009-03-23T16:27:00.002-04:00

Wait, wait, wait. Hold on. Just slow down a second. Hang on, let me catch up. Just, wait a minute, will you?*

*I feel like I'm high or something.

Really, just hold on. I have to understand this and make sure I'm not totally missing something.

Congress actually is serious about this bill to tax people 90% if they earned the money in a bonus and it actually came from TARP money? I mean, this really passed the House and is actually being considered by the Senate to be passed into real, actual, American, we-have-to-abide-by-this law?

Can someone tell me that this isn't really what's happening? I honestly just thought it was like a big grand-standing display by our elected morons and that obviously it would never become anything resembling real, actual law of the land. Tell me I was right, please.

Honestly, if this is real, and this is actually happening, I don't know what to do.

On second thought, I do. I'll just stop working, survive on government money taken from people who actually worked for it, and enjoy a nice quality of life even though I won't have to do anything for it. What could go wrong? It's not as if this has been tried before. Or that such a "law" would violate the US Constitution and the rule of law.

Madness

2009-03-19T15:42:00.002-04:00

I filled out my bracket today for the NCAA tourney. Since I'm not in a pool this year -- because I follow the law and don't support illegal gambling on collegiate athletics* -- I could afford to be bold with my choices.

*Yes, in fact, office pools ARE illegal. If you are taking part in one, you are a criminal and you should be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Along with the other 200 million people who participate in these things.

Some highlights from my bracket:

-- VCU makes a tough run into the Elite Eight, with wins over UCLA, Villanova, and Duke.
Everyone remembers VCU upsetting Duke 2 years ago in the 1st round, so the upset over UCLA in the 1st round this year is the one upset that everyone and their brother is picking. Eric Maynor is quite possibly the best point guard in the tournament this year, and UCLA is not very good. However, Villanova and Duke are 2 very good teams, so picking VCU to get past both of them is extremely bold and probably just plain stupid. So be it. I'm going with the hometown favorite.

-- My 12-seed over 5-seed upset: Wisconsin over Florida State.
Every year there's at least one 12/5 upset. Often there are 2. The trick is picking the right one. It seems this year everyone is going with Arizona over Utah. Mostly because FSU beat UNC in the ACC tournament. But they only did that because UNC was missing their best player.

-- Another upset: #11 Utah State over Marquette.
I don't have much reasoning for this one, other than for some reason I think Utah State is underrated and Marquette is over-rated, and I wanted another upset.

-- Other first-round upsets: #10 Maryland over #7 California;
#13 Mississippi State over #4 Washington;
#9 Texas A&M over #8 BYU;
#10 USC over Boston College;
#11 Dayton over #6 West Virginia;
#10 Minnesota over #7 Texas; and
#9 Butler over #8 LSU (this one's already wrong).
Hopefully you can read all that.

-- Arizona State with upset wins over Syracuse and Oklahoma gets to the Elite Eight before losing to UNC.

-- After all my bold early-round upsets, I have all four #1 seeds in the Final Four, with Louisville beating UNC in the championship.

So there you go. After a blog absence of over a month, I hit you with a boring NCAA tournament post. It's as fun as listening to someone talk about their fantasy team.

I've started several posts in the last few weeks that I never got around to finishing, editing, fully researching and completing. Maybe I'll get to them sometime soon. Or I'll just give you posts on my fantasy baseball team. Deal with it.

25 Random Things

2009-02-16T16:26:00.001-05:00

Well, it's going around like the Black Plague, and has touched me a few times, so here you go. Eat, eat, ya jackals!

1. I once spent the night under a bush in a public park in Amsterdam. And no, I was completely sober.

2. One of my guilty pleasures is watching horrible movies on SciFi. You know, the ones with gawd-awful special effects, usually involving some oversized crocodile or man-eating butterfly or something. They're awesome. The worse the acting, dialogue and effects, the better. And bonus points if one of the main characters is a hot chick who can't act her way out of paper bag running around in a tank top.

3. I'm the commissioner of my fantasy baseball league this year. I plan on ruling with an imaginary iron fist.

4. I love cooking and do it quite frequently.

5. I was once backstage for a George Thoroughgood concert during which he played 3 encores. I don't even like George Thoroughgood.

6. I was born in New Hampshire. My family moved away when I was less than a year old, and I grew up in VA. I just moved back to NH last year, and I love it. Even the cold, cold winter.

7. I like to read a lot. That's it.

8. I plan on becoming a high school History teacher. It's in my blood.

9. I graduated from college over 5 years ago, and I still keep in touch with my favorite professor. That's probably not that weird.

10. I've been to the Colisseum, the Eiffel Tower, Big Ben, the Berlin Wall, Pompeii, the Parthenon, the Charles Bridge, the Globe Theatre, Budapest, the Sagrada Familia, Cingue Terre St. Mark's Square, and the Hofbrauhaus. I've seen Mount Rushmore, been in both the White House and the US Capitol, and been to the top of the Washington Monument.

11. I've swum multiple times in the Mediterranean Sea, the Caribbean, the Atlantic Ocean, and at least once in one of the Great Lakes. Also a lake in Switzerland from which I could see snow-capped mountains. It was cold and clear.

12. I've been to Jamaica and Grenada, and been on an isolated Caribbean beach with one other person. And a cow.

13. I've listened to the Pope deliver an Easter vigil inside St. Paul's Cathedral.

14. I once won a long-ball hitting contest in my little league.

15. I built a large, wooden deck on the back of my parents house all by myself. It's still standing.

16. I believe enjoying good food and drink is essential to fully realizing the joy of human existence.

17. Baseball is my favorite sport. I'm starting to think that football and its growing popularity is representative of the death of Western Civilization. And no, that's not hyperbole. I also like basketball.

18. I dislike American democracy. For instance, a man (who may or may not have been qualified) who desired to become President in 2004 was basically eliminated from contention because one time while he was campaigning, he screamed in a rather awkward, loud way. Is that how we want to choose who our leaders will be?

Here's another way to look at it: think about the dumbest person in your graduating high school class. Perhaps they didn't even graduate. We can all pretty much picture someone who was unfortunately... not smart. Or lazy. Or both. Have you thought of that person? Make sure it's someone you can identify. Come on... you know who they are.

Now, by the time this person finished high school (or was supposed to finish), he or she was most likely 18 years of age. Which means that this person has a say in deciding who should be our leaders, provided he or she has not committed a felony criminal offense. When you picture this person in a voting booth, how confident do you feel that he or she will make an even somewhat intelligent, "informed," thoughtful decision? ... Exactly. Now imagine that we have not just a handful of these dummies voting; instead, we have to pander to millions of these idiots, and lower the level of our discourse to accomodate their limited capacities. THAT is what is wrong with American democracy.

With all that said, however, its still the best we've come up with so far.

19. I'm pretty sure Crime and Punishment is my favorite book ever.

20. I played the lead role in a production of "The Crucible" my senior year in high school. I'd been in one other play prior to that. I have no idea how I was. Probably bad. I'd like to see it if anyone has it on videotape.

21. My apartment is on the grounds of an old girls-only summer camp on a small lake. The campers' cabins still stand, not more than 100 yards from where I sit. In fact, my apartment is a converted barn. It's all very rustic and rural. And the cabins are less creepy than you'd think. Although I tend to avoid them at night. And on Fridays the 13th.

22. My favorite place in the world is on Lake Champlain in upstate New York.

23. The Red Sox have never lost when I've been to Fenway Park. I'm 10-0 there. I think I should go a lot more. In fact... if somebody reading this knows Theo Epstein, can you make him aware of my uncanny good luck? It really shouldn't go to waste, is all I'm saying.

24. One time when I was in 6th grade I think, I ran from the cops. They caught me.

25. I wish I wrote more than I do.

Liberty's Demise

2009-02-16T15:42:00.002-05:00

I wrote about this issue jokingly before, but it seems that Virginia has decided to take it seriously. A bill which would ban smoking in bars and restaurants has passed both the VA Senate and House of Delegates. The House made some amendments to the bill which the Senate has since rejected, so currently, the bill is in the negotiation stages. This is all basically formalities, however, and it's only a matter of time before Virginia joins the list of states that has made smoking in "public" bars and restaurants illegal.

Well, someone close to me decided to speak up about it. Here is his speech from the floor of the House of Delegates last Friday, which was transcripted in this Sunday's Richmond Times-Dispatch (the link above):

History teaches us that the source of the greatest calamities is to be found in a series of the smallest events. The rise of Hitler can be located in the fine-print of the Treaty of Versailles. Conversely, the world-changing liberty that Patrick Henry thundered in St. John's Church was born in the hearts of a few brave woodsmen who compelled a king to affirm Magna Carta.
But our liberties are fragile. And government at every level chips away at them every day.

The Virginia tradition of liberty -- which became in time the American form of liberty -- is founded, not upon governmental action, but upon the daily determination of our citizens to be and to do two things: to be self-governing, through discipline, frugality, and prudence; and, to be neighborly.

The principal craftsman of our Constitution, James Madison, insisted that it is not in a piece of parchment that our freedoms flourish. No, our liberty exists, is experienced, and is preserved in the customs, the social manners, the interchanges between free peoples, the private associations that individuals form, and in the institutions that are "intermediate" between the people and their government.

Today, through a feel-good surrender of another parcel of liberty to The Nanny State, we are further chipping away at the individual liberties and also the social bonds and institutions without which our people cannot be free.

And of course, predictably, it is in a seemingly "little thing" that this is occurring: the private citizens and private businesses of Virginia are to be compelled by government to ban the smoking of a perfectly legal substance that has for centuries been a cornerstone of our social, cultural, economic, and political life: tobacco. And, to justify ourselves, we have first had to discredit (and of course to tax) a single class of people into an inferior status -- those of our people who smoke.

We did not need to do this, and we ought not to do it. Free Virginians, through good manners and sound business decisions, have accommodated the quest for non-smoking establishments by many of our citizens. Despite this social achievement, the strong arm of government is now about to dictate a single policy for everybody and for every so-called public eating establishment that is -- in fact -- a private business on private property.

Many Americans rightly celebrate new manifestations of liberty in some quarters of our national life. But Tocqueville warned us nearly 200 years ago that we Americans face a very subtle danger -- the danger of mass conformism to sameness, to the lowest-common denominator, and to the "tyranny of the majority." Today, we have fretted Tocqueville's ghost. Are we also to abandon Patrick Henry's spirit?

The gentleman from Powhatan is correct. We must be careful and diligent to protect our liberties from an ever-growing, ever-encroaching "nanny state". We constantly give up small pieces of liberty in the name of "public health". While well-intentioned, where do these laws stop? I do not want the government to dictate how I should live my life, and if we keep down this road, that is exactly where it leads.

I happen to think that the ban is a good thing. I enjoy the benefits of a similar ban here in New Hampshire (and when I lived in Massachusetts). However, the culture of VA is different than New England, with its long history of tobacco growing and use. But, New Hampshirites have a similarly long tradition of personal liberty and being fiercely independent. We must make sure that we keep an eye on our representatives, to ensure that they not only keep our best interests in mind, but also protect our precious personal rights.

Top 10 Songs: A Challenge

2009-01-26T10:20:00.003-05:00

Inspired by this guy who decided to put up a poll to discover the top 10 "iconic" songs of Rock and Roll, I've decided to try to come up with my top 10 favorite songs of all time. This will be a huge challenge, probably won't work, will be completely arbitrary; I'll probably leave off some really good songs that I'll get mad later that I didn't include. In fact, the list could be completely different tomorrow. But for now, let's try to get through this. Perhaps it will spark some debate.

First, the criteria:

I enjoy songs that move me. Not necessarily songs that make me want to dance (though that often helps), but songs that have a fantastic rhythm, or songs that have a fantastic mood, or even songs that have a fantastic lyric. So it has to be a song that I enjoy on many different levels. There are plenty of songs that I really enjoy, but often for only one or 2 reasons: they make we want to dance, they make me want to play air guitar, they make me want to play real guitar, they make me want to laugh or cry, they make me nostalgic, they make me want to do something like run away and start a new life in New York, or propose marriage to a beautiful girl, or travel the world and never stay in one place more than a week. Songs can inspire many, many different feelings. Most of the songs on my list will inspire lots of feelings. Some won't, and in those cases, if they made the list despite inspiring only 1 or 2 emotions, you can be sure that those are powerful songs.

Musically, it has to be a beautiful, well-written song. You may disagree when I go with a song that has 4 chords, 3 verses and a chorus, but so be it. Sometimes simple is much more beautiful and well-done than over-the-top, complex, multi-level songs. But I'm sure there will be some of those too.

Influence: I will weigh heavily a song's (or, in some cases more accurately, a band's) influence upon an era, later musicians, and society as a whole. This will be nowhere more evident than in my first choice.

Intangibles: there are some songs that I probably won't be able to explain. We'll call them the Derek Jeter songs: they're very good and deserve a place in the top tier, but are still completely overrated for reasons that remain a mystery. Or maybe it's just because they've hooked up with Mariah Carey, Jessica Alba, Jessica Biel, and numerous other hot, famous celebrities.

Finally, the last disclaimer: I reserve the right to break any and all rules at any time. What's Rock and Roll without breaking the rules?*

*And yes, I'm aware how pre-packaged and cheesy that line is. Doesn't that show us how far we've come from Rock and Roll being this revolutionary, rebellious force that destroyed all pre-conceived notions about race, music, society, morals... to simply a way for schmucks like Nickelback, Rihanna and that guy who wrote that country song about putting a boot up someone's ass (what's his name? God, he's awful) to make money and sedate our country's youth until they have no real idea about what music is?**

**And if I sound cynical, just come with me when I teach 6th grade.

On with the list:

1. "Smells Like Teen Spirit," Nirvana -- Well, you knew it was gonna be on here somewhere right? So let's just get it out of the way.

There is still a debate raging among people who were alive and cognitive when Nirvana burned brightly for a few years, then burned out. The debate is between those who believe Nirvana was the destructive, creative force that brushed aside the schlock of the hair bands and ushered in our current state of rock, or whether it would have happened without them, or if Pearl Jam should get that credit. The folks with the latter argument claim that if Eddie Vedder had killed himself instead of Kurt Cobain, P. Jam would get the attention Nirvana now does. There may be some truth to this.

The way I remember it, though, was "Teen Spirit" was overwhelming. It was everywhere. Everyone liked it. Hard rockers, teeny boppers, whoever. It was all over MTV (you know, back when they still played videos). You couldn't escape it. Pearl Jam on the other hand, was not the massive force Nirvana was. Sure, they were huge. "Jeremy" was probably a better video, and nearly as good a song as "Teen Spirit", and they deserve a lot of credit for putting us all in a flannel-wearing, shoe-staring funk, but Nirvana possessed something more.

It's like this: Nirvana was the crazy, hot, wild party girl who EVERYONE wants to be with, but after her 20s is burned out, used up, possibly OD'ed on drugs and noone wants to settle down with. Sure, she'll teach you a few things, but in the end, she'll probably end up hurting you and leaving you for some guy with tattoos who plays in a Poison cover band. Pearl Jam, on the other hand, was her cute friend who is consistently attractive, but never wildly hot. Until you hit your 30s and suddenly, you realize she's exactly what you want because even though she was at the same parties, she doesn't have all the mileage and baggage of the crazy girl. Even that metaphor doesn't get it quite right.

I don't want to spend all my time on this. Suffice it say, I can still hear the beginning of "Teen Spirit" and get fired up. It's a classic song, and will always define my generation.

2. "Nuthin' But a G Thang", Dr. Dre -- Ah, and quickly on the heels of the grunge movement, came this classic which introduced the world to real rap. Looking back on my youth, if I had to pick 2 songs to define it, these 2 are the ones I would go with. This song was unstoppable. Like "Teen Spirit", it represented an underground (or at least, not largely recognized) musical movement that finally broke through to massive popularity. Sure, we'd had "Rapper's Delight", and Run DMC, and even the Beastie Boys, but "G Thang" was it. Again, everyone knew it. Even rockers had to respect it. And you can't turn it off if it comes on. Go ahead, try. You can't do it.

3. "Folsom Prison Blues," Johnny Cash -- So now that we've gotten those 2 out of the way, we can get to some of my more personal selections. Many people would not put Cash in their top 10 rock artists. For me, he's in my top 5. The man is essentially American. His songs are classic: simple, quick, everything a rock song should be. This one represents Cash the best, to me, but you could really choose any of about 15 songs to call his "best."

4. "Ball and Chain," Social Distortion -- my first selection that's probably not well-known. To me, this song is quite possibly the perfect Rock and Roll song. It's a great blend of honky-tonk, blues, and punk. It works as a rock song with electric guitars, a great solo, and yelled choruses, and it works as a stripped-down, honky-tonk, old-school-country acoustic song. The lyrics are nothing short of majestic, powerfully matched with the bluesy feel of the music. I could go on and on, but I'll spare you.

5. "Lily, Rosemary, and the Jack of Hearts," Bob Dylan -- You could pick any number of Dylan songs. This just happens to be my favorite. It's nearly 9 minutes long, has no chorus, and no bridge. I have no clue what it's about, but I love listening to it. The man may not be able to sing worth a damn, but I love to listen to his poetry.

6. "Train in Vain," The Clash -- I love the Clash. This is probably my favorite of theirs, but if you wanted "Rock the Casbah," or "Should I Stay or Should I Go," or even "London Calling," I wouldn't argue. As an album, "London Calling" might be the most complete, unified, influential, perfect album of all time. "Train in Vain" was a originally a hidden bonus track. That should tell you how good that album is.

7. "What I Got," Sublime -- Probably some controversy here. Sublime is recognized as neither influential, immensely popular, nor as particularly good musically. And yet, in the late 90s, after they were gone, I listened to them non-stop. Maybe it was all that pot I smoked* or maybe it was just that everything on the radio then was crap. Whatever it was, Sublime has played a huge role in defining my personal musical tastes. I couldn't leave them out.

*A joke. Hi Mom!

8. "Sheena is a Punk Rocker," The Ramones -- I had a lot of trouble coming up with #8: With only 3 spots left, where do I go from here? Well, I love the Ramones. To me, they're punk rock more than those poser, British, "we're a-holes just to be a-holes" The Sex Pistols. The Ramones brought Rock and Roll back to what it was supposed to be. I once read somewhere that in a time when over-produced stadium rock was king, The Ramones did the opposite: they said what they needed to say, and got out. That's it. Their songs were simple, quick, and loud. But that's all they needed to be. Sometimes 3 chords, 3 verses and a chorus are all you need. No flashy guitar solos, no huge, over-designed massive rock opera shows; just 4 guys with instruments, buzz-sawing through power chords, banging on the drums, and yelling at you. What can be better than that?

9. "Can't Get Enough of Your Love, Babe," Barry White -- I could have easily gone with "Let's Get it On" or "Got to Give it Up (Part 1)" by Marvin Gaye, and tomorrow, I'll probably kick myself for not doing it. Marvin Gaye had some kinda way about him. And a helluva voice. The man made ladies knees buckle. How can you not respect that? But for me, this Barry White song was my first introduction to smooth R&B (or maybe you could call it "babymaking music"), and it's been one of my favorites ever since.

10. "Could You Be Loved," Bob Marley -- And what list would be complete without Bob? Most people would probably go with "No Woman, No Cry" or "Redemption Song". Certainly those are the most well-known, and even the one I've chosen is probably too well-known. His more obscure songs are undoubtedly better than those you'll find on "Legend," but really, any Bob Marley is good Bob Marley. His music is still loved all over the world. To put it another way -- and to quote one of my favorite shows -- the character Michael from "LOST", upon hearing someone sing Marley, and then ask him whether he likes Marley, says, "Man, who doesn't like Bob Marley?"

And there you have it. My attempt at a top-10 list. It is probably skewed heavily toward the last 30 years, or roughly my lifetime, but so be it. What's interesting, though, is that there's not a song from the last 15 years on it. I could probably have listed any of the music I currently listen to, and I would give an honorable mention to "Mahgeetah," by My Morning Jacket as well as a few others from the past few years.*

Another interesting note is that I have only just over half (6) of these 10 songs on my iPod currently. In fact, the first 2 songs are NOT on my iPod or in any rotation of music I listen to.

*In fact, I couldn't resist a quick list of Honorable Mentions (strictly from the last few years):
The Avett Brothers
The Arcade Fire
Bon Iver
"Eurotrash Girl," Cracker
Josh Ritter
Radiohead
The Shins

For most of them, I couldn't pick one song, because either a) they didn't have a definitive "hit", or b) they have so many that are good, I simply couldn't pick one and be happy about it to represent them.

So there's my list. I can't believe I just spent almost 2 hours putting this together. But rip it apart, agree, criticize, adjust, whatever. It's fun.

History Made

2009-01-20T19:03:00.003-05:00

I was teaching 6th grade today, and all of the middle school stopped still just before noon to take in the Presidential Inauguration. It was an historic day, and my students -- often poorly behaved and talkative -- calmed down, sat still and listened. A few were hard-headed and unattentive, but for those who understood, they captured the moment, and took it all in.

I myself was rather excited to watch the proceedings. For the first time in a while, I look forward to where our nation is headed, rather than being upset about the course we are on. I watched with rapt attention as our new President was sworn in. But I was even more interested in his speech. He did not disappoint.

I did not take notes so I cannot go back through the speech point by point, but the general overall theme that I took away was this: a call to action. He admitted that our nation faces some of the toughest times we have known. He stressed that it would not be easy to pull out of it. And he called for an "era of responsibility". This really impressed me.

He was authoritative. He was eloquent. And he made clear that he is our leader, and that he requires everyone's help to make America as great as it can and should be. He made clear that division would not effect progress, and that the time for that was over. Instead of distracting ourselves with new issues, we need to confront the difficulties that we face. We have to lean on our traditional American values of responsibility, hard work, ingenuity, and commitment to the ideals of freedom. As a conservative, these themes really struck me. I enjoyed hearing them.

And so, I am excited for our new President. I sincerely hope he can bring the change he promised. It seems as though in one fell swoop, our standing in the world has been restored, the respect from other nations is restored, and our optimism is restored.

I don't want to overstate things, but it's hard not to be hopeful today. The atmosphere surrounding the events of the day was immensely positive. I am proud again to be American, and for that, even though I may oppose some of his ideals, I thank our new President. I hope he continues to earn my and everyone's pride and respect.

Ever Wondered If You Can Find True Love on TV?

2009-01-06T20:22:00.007-05:00

Well, apparently plenty of people in America have. And they are on in primetime for your guilty pleasure enjoyment.

As my descent into domesticity continues, I was introduced last night to every red-blooded American females' TV obsession NOT called Grey's Anatomy. That's right, it was The Bachelor. A bit of a disclaimer before I sink into the madness:

Before 3 months ago, I had never seen an entire episode of a "reality TV" show in my life. I was quite proud of this. Oh sure, I looked at Survivor and the Real World briefly, just to see what the all the hubbub was about. I turned them both off after only moments, in order to save my sanity, my vocal cords, and my (probably somewhat limited) intelligence. I've never seen more than snippets of American Idol.*

*So I see that we're headed for another season of this fantastic program. My question is: how many American idols can there be? Isn't the definition of an "idol" that he or she is somewhat unique; in other words, there is no one else who can provide what they give us?

Anywhoo, this "The Bachelor" is riveting television. Basically, they find an attractive single man with the personality of a dish sponge, and surround him with 25 women with souls, motives and masks so thin they're transparent. It really is an astounding display. One gets the feeling that a talented sociologist could write an entire book-length dissertation on what this show illustrates about our culture, our values, our relationships and our societal health.

But despite how this show represents the downfall of Western Civilization (not to overstate the thing), it does provide endless fodder for jokes, questions, observations, and domestic arguments (and who doesn't love a good domestic argument?).

The women they find for this show are -- in a word -- incredible. I think, without looking it up, the Bachelor himself is 32. So the majority of the women are in their 20s. Now, right off the bat, we can divide the age groups into 3 types of women: those in their early 20s -- say, 23 (I think that was the youngest) to about 26; the late 20s: 27-29; and those in their 30s (I think the oldest was 34).

Those in their early 20s are mostly rather simple. They're still innocent enough to believe in some kind of overwhelming true love and a resultant, endless domestic tranquility. They all have decent jobs to support themselves, but we know that most of them will leave these careers in the near future when they finally snag a man and start having kids. However, while they are deluded enough to believe that they can find happiness on a television show, they -- for the most part -- have not really begun to freak out about their biological clocks.

Next we have the late 20s group. This group is almost universally defined by the way their biological clocks have begun chiming... loudly. This chiming seems to drown out anything else they can hear, including that inner voice that everyone has which controls one's inhibitions, emotions and reasoning. All they know is that they need to find a man soon, and everywhere around them it appears all the good ones have been taken. Delirious, they begin to believe that this man they've seen on a television show is the perfect man for them, and them alone. And so they throw themselves into this chase. And they don't care who gets in their way, or how they get said person OUT of their way.

Finally, we reach the women in their 30s. I think there was only a couple of these women on the show. One, who is clearly a front-runner, and the one I immediately spotted as the sentimental favorite, is a very self-possessed, cool, confident 34-year-old single mother. Her husband was killed in a tragic (she's never wont to remind us of that word) plane crash when her baby girl was only a few weeks old. Now, after 3 and a half years, she's ready to love again. And she thinks this Bachelor character could be the one for her. Still delusional, just not quite as desperate and scary as the late 20s girls.

Now on with descriptions of a couple of women specifically. I don't know how much can be attributed to good editing, or whether these women are as silly, strange or stupid as they appear. I think it's probably a combination. Regardless, there are some contestants* who are simply astounding, and provide us with the knowledge that we are not anywhere near the dumbest, weirdest person out there, and that we are not a failure because we did not quit our jobs to go on a TV show looking for love. And yes, one woman did actually quit her job so that she could go on a TV show looking for love. Quite the desperate move. But, for the first round of cuts** at least, it seems to have worked.

* After all, aren't they all contestants to be the one that dumps this guy 2 months after the show when they get their first call from a casting agent?

** I love to call them "cuts" because, basically, the eliminations are like cuts from your local high school Varsity basketball squad. "Sorry, honey, you didn't make enough free throws, your footwork is slow, and you kiss like a nun. Better luck next year."

So, we met one woman, in her late 20s of course, who is a dental hygienist. Her teeth, while straight and white, are actually probably her worst feature. They're large, and they seem to protrude from her mouth whenever she laughs or giggles, which is, unfortunately, too often. She's clearly entered the Bat-sh*t-insane portion of her late 20s in which all she can see are potential mates, she's a borderline stalker (she knew the Bachelor's brother and the woman HE is currently dating, as well as his height, weight, eye color, bloodtype, shoe size, and preferred sleeping position -- it was frightening), and she's almost guaranteed to make it to the final 3 women because the producers want to keep around as long as possible just to see if she'll do any or all of the following things:

1) get the Bachelor into a hot tub, and possibly have some sort of sexual relations with him in front of the cameras,

2) get in a yelling match, and/or physical altercation with one of the other women, or

3) bite someone.

My money's on all 3. In the same day.

Another of our crazy women was one from LA, who was originally from somewhere like Topeka, Kansas or Minnetonka, Minnesota or something. She's 29 I think, and has been in LA too long without getting any callbacks for anything other than a movie about vampire hookers and ads for hand lotion. She's painfully skinny, because you have to be in LA. But the real kicker was her constant discussion of her "vision boards". You remember those boards that 16-year-old girls would make where they'd cut out words from Seventeen magazine, and make a collage with them and pictures of their best friends, and guys from boy bands and teen movies? Well, basically, this woman did that, but with things that she would like to happen in her life. They actually had footage of her pasting words like "marriage" and "happiness" next to pictures of her and the Bachelor onto poster board. She told the guy about this when she got her 2 minutes alone with him. Sadly, but not surprisingly, she didn't make the first cut. One can only hope that she can find a new use for her scissors and hot glue gun.

I'd love to go on and discuss how catty, yet somewhat restrained these women were during the first episode, but this post is too long, especially since it's about something so terribly unmasculine. I need to go fix something, and watch Sportscenter in my underwear.

But stay tuned for further updates concerning our hero's quest for love on national primetime television. Me, I'm hopeful that he'll find his soulmate. What about you?

I Have Ice Skates

2009-01-03T18:06:00.002-05:00

And I went ice skating yesterday and today. I went yesterday out on the lake on which I live. It's been frozen over since about early November. There are random spots of snow and random patches of clear ice, but it's pretty fun to get out there. It froze over pretty smoothly.

I got ice skates for my birthday in early December, as well as a hockey stick and a couple pucks. I think -- I haven't checked, but I'm pretty sure -- that I'm required by law to take up playing hockey upon my establishing residence here in New Hampshire.

Today I went ice skating with L (my girlfriend) in New London, a picturesque New England town, complete with a 150+ year-old private liberal arts college; a large, colonial Inn still in operation; and an ice rink on the town green. We like to go to the town to do laundry* and while we were waiting for the clothes to wash today we went skating. L got some skates a couple of days ago, as well as a hockey stick. She seems to have some desire for me to hurt her while playing hockey together. It doesn't make much sense. Anyway, we were surrounded by several kids, and I actually fell down a couple times. I blame it on the children. Punks. Hang on, I think I hear some on my lawn -- I have to go yell at them.

*Well, we don't LIKE doing laundry, but you get the idea.

All in all, though, it's been a very nice start to 2009 for me. Last night, L and I went down to Boston for the Celtics-Wizards game at the FleetBankNorthTDCenter Garden (or whatever the name is). I won Cs tickets on the radio last year, which also included a membership in "Club Green", the Celtics booster club. I was unaware of this, but apparently my membership also included free tickets to this game this year, as well as membership for this season. So that was cool. The Celtics won big, as usual.

The highlight of the night for me, though, was the "Gino" video. If you haven't heard, during the waning moments of a Celtics victory, the JumboTron will show a clip of an old '70s American Bandstand episode. The PA system plays The Beegees "You Should Be Dancin'", and about 30 seconds into the video, you see a handsome fellow with his name on his shirt: Gino. The crowd eats it up, and on the JumboTron, they cut in people from the stadium dancing it up as well. Anyway, it's a classic way to celebrate a blowout victory, and -- well, here, see for yourself:

Pretty incredible.

Welp, no time or space here for my 2009 goals, resolutions, future failures, etc. Maybe tomorrow.

An Ode to Second-Hand Smoke

2008-12-30T16:33:00.005-05:00

Well, I hope everyone had a nice Christmas, or for our Jewish friends, an enjoyable Hannukah. I myself traveled home to Virginia for the holiday, to the land of Virgin Queens, lovers, a Beach, mothers of presidents, and tobacco.

It's of this last product that I wish to speak today. You see, tobacco has a long, storied, lucrative history in Virginia. It was first planted there in 1607 BC by Pocahontas and her English husband, Patrick Henry. The ancient Mayans smoked the potent herb during human sacrifices and other religious ceremonies. When the Spanish first discovered Virginia, they found tobacco to be gross and stinky, nothing at all like themselves. But later the Italians, those famous lovers of all things stinky -- especially cheese -- decided to make tobacco one of their biggest exports back to Europe. And so began the wonderful, rich history of the mafia in America.

Large, borderline-illegal conglomerates still control the tobacco industry today, though instead of using their Italian names, they go by innocuous-sounding English monikers, such as Philip Morris. Philip Morris is one of the 5 wealthiest people in the world today, with all of his wealth deriving solely from tobacco products.

Now, it's well-known that cigarettes -- made from tobacco and a form of cocaine known as nicotine -- are highly addictive, incredibly potent and produce a sweet-smelling aroma when smoked. This aroma, because it is so beautifully intoxicating and pungent has actually been banned from indoor public places all across the United States. Throughout New England, it is illegal to smoke cigarettes inside such places as bars, restaurants, and public buildings. One can only assume that this is because our civic leaders decided it was in the public's best interest not to be too overwhelmed by the sense-tickling, head-lightening, throat-soothing flavors of these short, white, environmentally-friendly sticks. Too much exposure to such ambrosia could render ones senses useless.

But in Virginia, the traditional-thinking leaders there have seen fit to leave the enjoyment of cigarettes to everyone, even those who don't even use them. So, for instance, one could find oneself in a fine eating and drinking establishment and be treated to the wonderfully rich, deliciously spine-tingling aroma of tobacco. In fact, because of the strong history and tradition of tobacco in Virginia, the majority of citizens there still consider it their civic duty to enjoy the commonwealth's finest product, and indeed, to illuminate others with the warming glow from the end of their favorite home-grown export.

It was my distinct pleasure to return home of an evening with the odor of that sweet nectar of tobacco smoke on my clothes, clinging to my hair, and singing my nostrils. My return to New Hampshire has been made somewhat bittersweet by the realization that I have had to give up such wondrous delights as this. It may not be the biggest reason I miss my familial home in Virginia, but it is certainly close.

May you never change, ol' Virginny.

Home & Garden

2008-12-07T11:15:00.004-05:00

Because I know you're interested in the minute details of my inconsequential life, I thought I'd pass along my latest TV obsession: HGTV.

This channel is amazing. I especially love the shows where they makeover an entire house, a room, or a yard. I'm particularly interested in this kind of renovation, upgrade and design.

I have quite a bit of experience in fixing up old houses, improving properties both aesthetically and structurally. For years, I worked with a guy during the summer helping him fix up houses. He flipped a few houses. The improvements could be nearly anything: carpentry, painting, electrical, plumbing, adding a new deck, landscaping the yard, knocking out a wall and expanding a room, replacing a light fixture, shoring up a giant beam under the house in a crawl-space... anything. We did it all.

I loved it. It was great to get all that experience. I can walk into a house now, and within 5 or 10 minutes, I can tell whether it's well-built, or whether the builder just slapped it up without much care or regard for its solidity. (Is that a word? Solidity?) I hope this skill comes in handy when eventually buying a home myself.

I also hope to put these skills to good use when I buy a home, so that I can do many of these same types of improvements myself. HGTV feeds that part of me that loves to see things fixed up, improved, remade. It's like some kind of wonderful drug. I just wish I had an outlet for it. Apartment living doesn't suit me.

New England Happiness

2008-12-07T10:48:00.004-05:00

It's so cold up here in NH.*

*How cold is it?!

Anyone else ever seen the old episodes of Match Game 77? I know it's a little before the time of anyone my age, and therefore probably anyone reading this blog. But they used to play episodes on Game Show Network, and college roommate loved it, so I saw countless episodes.

Anyway, the host -- Gene Rayburn, a funny guy with one of those Bob Barker long, skinny microphones -- would read a short little quip with a blank in it. And when it started with something like, "The blonde was so dumb..." or "The desert was so hot..." then the audience would interrupt him and shout out, "How dumb was she?!" or "How hot was it?!" and then he would finish reading the little thing. At which point 6 celebrities would write down their answers to fill in the blank, and then one of the 2 normal-people contestants would try to match as many celebrity answers as possible by giving their own answer. Sounds simple enough, right? Other than the fact that I've probably explained it in an overly confusing way.

Well, the best part were the celebrities. About half of them would be smoking. I never saw a drink, but it wouldn't surprise me to learn that they were all getting hammered during taping. One of the usual celebs was Richard Dawson, the original host of "Family Feud" who would always kiss the women guests, virtually groping them right in front of their husbands, brothers and fathers. Anyway, the celebs would always make these borderline sexually explicit jokes, bust each others chops -- basically call each other a slut, or a wag, or some such insult. It was comedy gold. Betty White was a regular, as was Charles Nelson Riley, a man notable for only, as far as I can tell, being a regular on Match Game 77, and later lampooned on SNL by Will Ferrell and Alec Baldwin.

Some producer should definitely bring back Match Game. There's not much funnier than C- or D-list celebs making fun of each other, chain-smoking cigarettes, and cracking dirty jokes. This would be a guaranteed hit, I'm telling you.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, it's cold up here in NH. It's so cold that the lake near which I live has completely frozen over. It's walkable. And it's been snowing all morning. And it's awesome. I'm not sure where I'm going with this. I just thought I'd mention it.

I like the cold. It doesn't bother me so much. I'd rather deal with a cold winter than a really hot summer. And that is a big reason why I love New England and have stayed here rather than going back to Virginia. Now, don't get me wrong, I love Virginia. It's my home, it's where I grew up, it will always have a special place in my heart. I miss it sometimes. I love it's history; it's natural beauty -- how it ranges from the beach to the mountains and all parts in between; it's people (well, mostly); that my family is still there.

But I've grown to love New England just as much, especially New Hampshire. And it's here that I have finally begun finding the sense of calm, serenity, and belonging that I have longed to find during my extended quarter-life crisis. I believe that I have found a place in which I can make a very nice life. It helps that I've found the right woman to share it with, and probably without her I wouldn't have found this place.

But right now, I'm happy. I'm working toward a career I believe will be fulfilling; I've found a nice place to live; I've got someone whom I'm unbelievably happy sharing it with. Funny sometimes how the smallest changes and decisions can ultimately make monstrous differences in your life.

The Avett Brothers

2008-11-20T18:16:00.004-05:00

It's been a few days, but I wanted to say: these guys were simply amazing in concert. They played 22 songs, including a 2-song encore.

Before we went to the show on Saturday, I was doing some searching online, and stumbled across this, one of their new songs that they've been playing live lately. I would embed it here, but for some reason, whoever put it on youtube has disabled that feature. I highly recommend you check it out. It's an magnificently beautiful song. They played it second when I saw them.

They opened with "Murder in the City," the acoustic one that I had in my last post about them. I was blown away. After those songs, the guys really got rolling, and just blasted away. The amount of energy they have on-stage is incredible. You can tell they are legitimately excited to be playing their music, and they really put every part of themselves into performing.

The venue was this tiny performing arts center in the middle of a tiny town in the middle of nowhere, Vermont. It held maybe 500 people, and only sold out just a couple days before the show. Unfortunately, we were near the back, but it was so small that we still had a great view.

And after the show, the guys hung around and met with fans. I got to shake their hands, thank them for their performance, and had them sign our program. All in all, a very fun night.

More Political (And Other) Musings

2008-11-13T10:23:00.005-05:00

-- Alright, look. I'm not a Republican. Let's quickly get that out of the way. So we can talk about all the dumping that's been going on since the GOP got demolished on Election Day. I seem to recall that the Democratic Party was in shambles 4 years ago, following Frankenstein's loss to Dubya, who was immensely unpopular even then. I remember Jon Stewart and others contemplating where the hell the Democrats were gonna go from there, since they'd seemingly reached the bottom, had no real leader, no clear platform, and were hopelessley outnumbered in government, and out of touch with the people.

I've heard pretty much exactly the same things during the past week about the GOP now. Only it seems more disturbing. People wondering how and if the Republicans will recover, or if they will simply collapse; if they will become more "extreme"; who will step up and take the leadership role; on and on.

It's a 2-Party system. The Republican Party will recover. Probably slowly. But this is what happens in American politics. One party is on top while the other attempts to find the pulse of the American people, and then cashes in on being the opposition party when things go horribly wrong -- just like what happened this fall. Let's all just calm down and stop declaring the GOP dead.

-- Has anyone else seen this chick Rachel Maddow on MSNBC? I'm not much a cable-news watcher, so I just saw her for the first time. I happened to catch her on the Colbert Report, talking about conservatives in quite a dumb way*, so I decided to check out her show. Yikes. Not only is she pretty dumb, but she's not even funny. She's not entertaining at all. She just reads the news with this smirk, while sarcasm drips from everything she does. It's painfully obvious she has no love for anything but extreme left-wing ideas, but she is evidently unaware that that does not make her smart, interesting, or even original.

*Alright, so here was her argument against "conservatives in government": She asks why conservatives -- who by their nature want to do away with government -- would want to get involved in governing. "Why would you want someone running your business who doesn't believe in your product? If they don't believe what they're doing should exist in the first place, OF COURSE they're going to be bad at it."

That may not be a direct quote, but it's a paraphrase as well as I can recall. Allow me to rebuff your argument, Ms. Maddow. First, your assumption that conservatives want to do away with government is simply, completely, thoroughly, wrongheadedly... wrong, wrong, wrong. They are not anarchists. They are the first people to argue in favor of government -- as a provider of order against the inevitable chaos that would result from anarchy.

True conservatism wishes to LIMIT government. You know, like Thomas Jefferson said: "That government is best which governs least." Conservatives don't believe that it is the government's role to ensure that we wear seatbelts; or that we all have free access to the best health care; or that there should be a nationalized treasury which muddles in the affairs of free-market capitalism. They do believe, however, that government should be involved in providing for the defense of its citizens. It should protect the land on which its citizens live -- and that includes the agricultural, environmental, and natural resources.

Second, don't confuse this current administration, run by moronic "neo-conservatives" with conservatism. These idiots have done everything in their power to expand the size, scope, power and role of government. They are by no means "conservative."

Third, your analogy of business to government breaks down almost immediately. It is not the governments purpose -- as is any business' -- to make money.

If you had any rudimentary understanding of human nature, human society, and especially human HISTORY, you would understand that conservatism wishes simply to CONSERVE the good parts of human existence; to preserve the best traditions; to exult and reward the good parts of human nature while making impotent those insidious tendencies of humans; and as seen above, to preserve our natural environment in order to keep our planet liveable for future generations. Don't simply write off an entire ideology about which you clearly no nothing, because of a few idiots who hijacked the term "conservatism" and twisted it to mean almost the opposite of its original definition.

-- I was apparently one of only about 6 people under the age of 30 who did not think Barack Obama was the best choice for our next President. And that's fine. I've accepted it. And quite honestly, I'm kind of excited to see what he will do. I think -- despite all evidence to the contrary -- that he will lead as a centrist. Admittedly, it's not much evidence since he hasn't been an elected official for very long. Small sample size.

But part of me is excited in an almost morbid entertainment way. I am curious to see how his liberal tendencies will play out. Apparently he is unaware that he is a Marxist (see simply his speech a couple days before the election in Michigan, in which he said, and I paraphrase again, "We want to ensure that not just factory owners are taken care of, but the factory workers too. We want to make sure that workers have the same opportunities and benefits that the CEOs do." If you can argue that that is not almost exactly a word-for-word reiteration of the Communist Manifesto, you are a magician.), but I say this in a completely non-accusatory tone. Rather, I think he has been seduced by the ideology of socialism; remember, Communism works in theory, and it wants to make everyone happy, healthy, equal, free, and fair.

The problem he will face is that, with the realities of a limited budget, how can he implement all of his visionary social policies to give everyone that happy, healthy life? This is what intrigues me; I'm fascinated to see what will happen when Obama and the Democratic Congress discovers that they simply don't have the money to pay for everything they want to do. Will they put the country in further debt? (And don't think I've taken this last administration off the hook for our incredibly disastrous financial situation.) Will he break his campaign pledge not to raise taxes on the middle class? Will he tax the rich -- who, by the way, already provide more than 50% of tax receipts -- even further? Or will they be fiscally responsible? Sometimes its that simple.

-- With the loss of John Sununu to his Democratic challenger, there are now NO Republican Senators from the six New England states. There remains only a few Republican Congressmen. I'm not sure what this means. I just thought it was interesting.

My Irrational Fear

2008-11-07T18:09:00.002-05:00

Not to get all personal and sentimental on you here, but I thought I'd change things up from the sports and politics-centric posts.*

*Well, except for that one post about the Avett Brothers. I hope everyone checked them out. They really are fantastic. I'm going to see them next Saturday in rural Vermont, and I'm incredibly excited. How's this for a line about one's family:

Make sure my sister knows I loved her
Make sure my mother knows the same
Always remember there was nothing worth sharing
like the love that let us share our name
Always remember there was nothing worth sharing
like the love that let us, share our name

Anyway, I thought I'd fill you in on one of my very personal, intimate details: I'm deathly afraid of spiders. I always have been.

I don't recall a genesis for this fear. I was never bitten or attacked by a spider as a child. I have no rational reason to be so afraid of arachnids, but I am. I cannot be around them. I cannot see them. And it seems that my fear has only worsened recently. A couple quick stories.

About 5 years ago, while working cleaning up and painting an old pool-house in a wealthy community, my co-worker was well aware of my fear of spiders. Finding a long-dead large spider, he waited until I was engrossed in my work. Then he got my attention and threw the thing at me. My heart stopped and I screamed. He got a good laugh.

A couple years later. I was working by myself, painting the outside of a one-story house. However, I was on the top of an 8 feet tall ladder, attentively painting a window. In the corner of the window frame was a spiders nest that I thought was old and empty. I was wrong. When I touched it with my brush, a large (a couple inches long) spider bristled. From the top step of the ladder (about 8-10 feet off the ground) I lept to the ground. It took me nearly half an hour for my heart to return to a normal beat and for me to return to work... nowhere near that window.

A couple weeks ago. I was in front of the 6th grade class, standing at my lecturn. I was in the middle of the Socratic method, imparting my vast knowledge to the pliable minds of Americas youth, when suddenly one raised his hand. Calling on him, he pointed at the board behind me, and said, "There's a spider on the board behind you." Imagining a large, furry, fleshy, jumping beast of an antagonist, I flinched and took a couple quick steps away from the board before I turned around. It was then that I saw the most harmless, tiny -- this thing was barely noticeable from a foot away; I'm not sure how the child saw it from 20 feet -- basic spider. I let the boy who pointed it out take it into his hands and throw it out into the hall. From that point, I haven't heard the end of it.

I only bring this up because just about 30 minutes ago, I walked into the other room to see the cat playing with a leaf on the kitchen floor. It was only after I saw him walk away from it that I noticed that the leaf was in fact a spider. Of the kind that I dislike the most: the dark, furry, jumping kind.

I can't see or even imagine spiders without shuddering. So there you go. If you want to frighten Tig, show him a spider.

I hate them. I fear them. I'm not saying it's rational. Or manly. But it is what it is.

Thoughts The Day After

2008-11-05T09:25:00.005-05:00

- I think it's safe to assume that America hates the Republican Party right now.

- And now, after 8 years of horrible, disastrous neo-conservative policies, we will see how far the rubber band springs back the other way, toward socialism, demilitarization, and continued government expansion and terrible foreign policy.

- Are race relations suddenly fixed? In the long run, this is undoubtedly a giant step in the right direction. And I dearly hope this signals the beginning of a much more peaceful, cooperative period in American life. I just hope white people stop patting themselves on the back long enough to actually make sure it happens.

- I, in the end, did not vote yesterday. I could have voted here in New Hampshire, but ultimately decided against it, since I could not, in good conscience, vote for either Presidential candidate who had a real shot at winning. As for other races, including NH's US Senator and Governor, I unfortunately was severely underinformed, and could not vote in good conscience based merely on an "R" or "D" next to the candidates names.

I cast an "anti-Candidate X" vote in 2004, and have regretted it every day since. I did not want to repeat that.

- How long before we hear from Sarah Palin again? Much like Hilary, she seemed a polarizing, divisive character. But her followers were passionate. It's hard to see her finishing out her gubernatorial term and then fading into obscurity without another foray into the national political field.

- Why are people overseas so fascinated -- and so emotional -- about American Presidential elections? I have seen in this election, and others, that people around the world and especially in Europe, Asia and the Middle East have their own passionate ideas about who should be American President. And almost all of them are always left-leaning.

1. This illustrates that America remains the single most powerful, important, influential nation on the planet.

2. Knock it off with all the loud chattering about who should be the President. You're not American, so you don't get to tell anyone in America who should be their President. It's called national sovereignty. Just because you gave yours up to join the EU doesn't mean America has to sacrifice any of theirs.

- In case anyone thinks I'm all cynicism and smarminess, I am pleased with the way that most people have graciously accepted the decision of the American people. There are few other countries which could face, accept and abide a thorough regime change without any significant or even minor civil disruption. Perhaps there is something to this democracy thing after all.

- The election of 1800 between the main competitors of Thomas Jefferson and John Adams was -- if possible -- even more emotional, nasty, and virulent than this one. Don't pretend that either candidate in 2008 invented dirty campaigning. If that is what swayed your vote, shame on you.

Election Mockery

2008-10-29T18:36:00.004-04:00

Ah yes, our 6th grade students today voted in that timeless American tradition: the mock election. They voted for the US President, as well as NH's US Senator (a merciless battle between incumbent Repub. John Sununu and Dem. challenger and former NH Governor Jean Shaheen -- this campaign has been ruthless), a US Representative, and a local state Rep. race.

Barack Obama won overwhelmingly: I don't remember the exact numbers, but it was something like 80 votes to 40. Shaheen also defeated Sununu soundly, although it was a little closer.

I'll give you a little demographic background on the town around the school. Franklin, NH is apparently notorious around the area for being riddled with drugs and poverty. It's a strange thing because most of the surrounding towns are fairly affluent, even though they are largely rural. Franklin is not a large town, but it seems to be the most depressed in the area.

I've had one student out for the last 2 weeks because her mother got arrested on drug charges. The girl is staying with her grandmother and has no way to get to school. Another came in today with a note from his mother explaining that his father was arrested last night, and now has a restraining order against him. Another student, arriving late today, told a teacher that he didn't want to come in because he was afraid his father would not go to see his parole officer today (as he is required to do) without him (the 6th grader) being with his father. How sad are you when your 12-year-old son is more responsible than you?

Anyway, I digress.

I won't pretend to interpret the mock election results based on the background of the kids.

But I did hear something interesting on National Leftist-- er, Public Radio yesterday. While interviewing voters who said that they would be voting for Obama, I did not hear one of them express anything resembling enthusiasm about the man. No, it was more along the lines of the enthusiasm one shows when one has chosen between methods of execution: "I'm voting for firing squad, but only because I'd rather not be starved to death."

Hey, I've expressed it many times here, and you're probably sick of it: but I agree. I realistically have to choose between Obama and McCain? And it's not just this election: I was disgusted with both of the choices in both 2000 and 2004 (the first and second elections in which I could vote). It seems I (and many, many others) end up voting AGAINST one candidate, or for the lesser of two evils, rather than for someone they truly believe will be good for the country and themselves.

I don't have a solution, but this question really bothers me. Does anyone have an explanation? Why is it unfeasible to allow more parties into American politics? Why do we have to settle for these horrible choices? What can we change about the election machinations to give us more choice? Why is it so laughable to vote for a 3rd party candidate when so many people are seemingly fed up with both parties (or at least both candidates)?

To quote a wise man: "Democracy is the worst form of government except all the others that have been tried." Like almost everything else in life, it can be improved. I think the best way to start would be to allow more choice.

Go ahead, laugh at me the same way everyone laughed at people who vote for Ralph Nader. You sheep.

Pumpkin Lasagna? Do Those Things Go Together?

2008-10-25T22:43:00.004-04:00

In fact, yes they do. And they sidle up nicely to one another. In fact, I made Pumpkin Lasagna tonight, and it was utterly delicious. It might have been just a touch dry, but for a first attempt, I gotta say, it was pretty magnificent. I highly recommend giving it a shot. And while you're at it, have some wine. Or beer. Sets off the flavors even more.

Has anyone else been as disinterested in the World Series as I have? I mean, I've tried to watch it a little bit, and I know this is blasphemy, and you can call me an un-American communist and tell me to go watch soccer and bicycle-racing and stuff, but I just haven't been able to get into it. I don't know why either. I like both teams. The Phillies have some exciting players; the Rays are an incredible story, and I actually enjoyed watching them all season. But so far I haven't been able to get into true October baseball mode for this World Series. I don't know. Someone help me out.

I'm gonna go try to watch this belated game 3.

Review: "John Adams"

2008-10-24T16:40:00.003-04:00

I've been in a rather classical, historicized, romantically political mood lately because of the book I recently finished. I tore through the biography of John Adams (all 600+ pages) by David McCullough in the last couple months. Alright, maybe that doesn't qualify as "tore through". But still, it's a large book. I read the last couple hundred pages in only a couple weeks.

McCullough is an incredibly gifted historian, and a very good writer. He won a Pulitzer for his biography of Truman, and later for the biography of Adams. It was published in 2001, and I received an inscribed copy in 2002, but I did not have the occasion to read it until this year. I'm glad I did.

I've gained a new perspective on the dawning years of American democracy, as seen through the eyes of a New England patriot, ardent Christian, and enlightened federalist democrat. Adams was from a line of established, land-owning farmers in Massachusetts. Though blessed with some advantages (such as a college education at Harvard), Adams was thoroughly a self-made man, the epitome of the American success story. He worked hard to become a successful lawyer, a respected politician, and ultimately, the leader of the United States.

The writings that John Adams left behind are voluminous. From his teens, he began keeping a journal, which he continued, with only occasional breaks, for the rest of his life. Most of these journals survive today. In addition, he wrote tens of thousands of letters to his wife, Abigail, his children, friends, colleagues, and even strangers. No other character from the Revolutionary period left such an extraordinary written record of their life.

Many things struck me in Adams' biography, not the least of which was his unfailing sense of honesty and duty. Though he was an ardent supporter of American freedom, as a successful lawyer he agreed to defend the British soldiers accused of murder in the Boston Massacre trial. He believed strongly that everyone should receive a fair trial and defense, even those he personally did not care for: 6 of the 8 soldiers were acquitted of any wrongdoing. Throughout the rest of his life, he risked unpopularity, public scorn, and even disgrace to do what he considered the right thing. And he was usually right.

Also immensely interesting to me was the relationship Adams shared with Thomas Jefferson. They first met at the Continental Congress in 1776, and were on the committee responsible for writing the Declaration of Independence. Jefferson has received the credit for writing it, but it was Adams who was responsible for defending it in full Congressional session, and ultimately responsible for it's acceptance. Adams was the voice, Jefferson the words. It was the beginning of a long, varied relationship.

During the course of the Revolution, Jefferson and Adams eventually lived together in Paris as American emissaries. It was here that their friendship really blossomed. They became very close, and thoroughly enjoyed the qualities which they both shared: classical educations, backgrounds in the law, a love of liberty, and an enjoyment of culture. Abigail also formed a close friendship with Jefferson, and they began a correspondence that would last the rest of their lives. Yet years later, back in America, Adams and Jefferson's political views separated. Jefferson insulted Adams, and for years, decades even, they did not speak. Even while Adams was President, and Jefferson Vice President, they rarely saw or spoke to each other. This after being the closest of friends years earlier.

Finally, after both had retired from public life, they began a correspondence that last over a dozen years, in which they discussed all they did before. Here were two of the greatest minds of their generation, pontificating on nearly everything under the sun. It is a most incredible occurrence that each lived until the 50th anniversary of the passage of the Declaration of Independence, July 4, 1826, and died only then, just hours apart: one in his magnificent mountain home, Monticello; the other in his enlarged New England farmhouse.

Without waxing on more romantically about the biography, let me end here by saying that I wholeheartedly recommend it to anyone interested in American democracy, American history, or just American life. It's a very well-written book -- which other, smarter people than I have recognized -- and will teach as well as entertain and amuse you. So there you go.

Another Political Post

2008-10-24T16:08:00.005-04:00

As we near the Presidential election only a couple weeks away, I want to take a moment to reflect on the partisan bickering which has -- somewhat naturally, of course -- resulted from such a heated contest. Here's the thing, Democrats and Republicans: you're both basically the same people.

Oh sure, I know you GOPers are pro-life, against gay marriage, and you support supposedly smaller government, and more defense spending. And you Dems are open-minded on the questions of abortion and gay marriage, and you would like the government to take a more active role in ensuring that all Americans (and all humans too) have access to the best health care, government-sponsored welfare programs, and you'd like to see the US focus more on diplomacy rather than spend more money on bombs and guns.

But really, those differences are minor. They're piddling. You're fighting over things that, ultimately, have an inertia of their own, and will or will not (more often not) end up making a big difference in the history of human existence. Yet you bicker and fight and call each other names and assassinate the character of those who disagree with you. The partisan fighting takes on the character of two illogical schoolgirls: reason, level-headedness, and sensibility play no part in your arguments.

I recently read an online post from a friend who is a Democrat. He concerned himself with the fact that somehow the McCain campaign's mudslinging has taken on a level never before seen in American politics. The Republicans' dirty name-calling (to my friend) represents something to which he and his liberal friends would never stoop. He was shocked and befuddled that they were attacking Democrats' personal worth, their patriotism, and their basic humanity.

As if -- were the tables turned and the Democratic candidate behind in the polls -- there would not be vicious, ungentlemanly, unreasonable attacks on the Republican candidate.

Look, I understand that the choice of Sarah Palin is a direct, unforgivable assault on your intelligence and reasoning, Dems. McCain was deliberately attempting to insult each and every one of you personally. And GOPers, I understand that Obama is a borderline-socialist who's probably secretly a Muslim and wants to do away with the American Army. He doesn't give a damn about you hard-working, patriotic Americans.

Just don't act like you have the high moral ground because you're not on the side that's slinging mud. Because both sides do. And it's stupid.

Take a step back, cool off, and think about how silly it is that the most important thing in your life is who will be President. Instead realize that the election of an American President, while important, should not lord over your existence. Shouldn't the government merely be a background to the narrative of your life?

I'm not advocating apathy. My intent is to get you to think outside of normal American politics, use your logic and cool-headed reasoning for a moment, and ponder whether your government should have a hand in every single part of your life? Is that what you want? And is there really a difference between the candidates in that respect? These two are our only choices?

An Open Letter to Our Presidential Candidates

2008-10-23T18:02:00.001-04:00

I wrote this about a week ago. It's a first draft, and I'm not very pleased with the writing style and organization of it overall. But I can't bring myself to revise it, so you're getting the dregs of my draft-box. Sorry. Enjoy!

Dear Sirs,

First let me say that I respect both of you. You are both clearly patriotic, intelligent, well-intentioned, hard-working Americans. Though you have your differences, you represent much of what has made America the greatest nation on Earth. However, despite your qualifications, and the certainty that one of you will definitely be the leader of the free world (and for that matter, basically the most powerful person on the planet), I have many questions and concerns about your abilities, your ideas, and your philosophies.

Gentlemen, I wish you to know that I am NOT -- contrary to a statement from one of you several weeks ago -- a Georgian. This in no way impugns the Georgian people, or their state or government. But I am American. I have no connection to Georgia; I have no wish to associate myself with Georgia, and I have no wish to engage America in any actions that could possibly result in a disharmonious relationship between our country and Russia, who undoubtedly DOES have connections with Georgia, since they are immediate neighbors. I do not want to see America's youth -- of which I am part -- involved in any type of military conflict in Georgia. Please calm down.

Gentlemen, I have no desire for the American federal government to provide me with health care. I believe it is the government's responsibility to provide for my defense, and safety, from external threats, as well as internal threats. I do not wish the government to take on the additional burden of ensuring that I live a healthy life. That is my own responsibility, and one which I take seriously.

Although I hold neither of you personally responsible for getting America into a bog of war in both Iraq and Afghanistan, I DO hold you -- whoever wins this election -- personally responsible for getting our soldiers out of both conflicts quickly and safely. I believe that the vast, incredible resources we are using to fund these wars could be better served in enhancing our intelligence and defenses, which should in turn help protect us from those people in these areas who wish to do us harm. I do not believe that regions with absolutely no history of democratic thought will suddenly become harbingers of liberty in their international communities. Please end these horribly costly wars before I lose another of my friends. I will not believe those who have bravely fought and died will have been in vain, if we view their sacrifices as noble by illustrating to us that we simply cannot go marching into sovereign countries, unprovoked. The lesson of humility and prudence is never a bad one.

Please, sirs, decide whether or not America is to continue as a capitalist society or not. If we are not, please admit it, and put into place all of the state-run controls of the economy that you believe will be necessary. Or if we are to be a capitalist, free-market society, please remove any and all federally-controlled restraints or mechanisms currently in place.

I believe that we need to conserve our beautiful planet, and put in place measures to protect and preserve it. With encouragement from you, our leader, and -- perhaps more powerful -- the bottom-line pressure of rising energy costs, I believe we Americans can develop an intelligent, efficient way to achieve the necessary energy resources for our home; resources which will not only not harm our planet, but even perhaps reverse the damage already done. The innovative American spirit that has driven the Industrial and Technological Revolutions of the last 2 centuries can still provide the force behind a new advance in human existence: one in which we live harmoniously with our sheltering environment.

By no means the lightest of my concerns, gentlemen, is the last. It is my firm belief that American pride, decadence, ignorance, indolence, and arrogance have played a significant part in bringing us to these crises which we face today. An unhealthy obsession with pop culture; rampant consumerism; a perceived inherent entitlement to live an easy, distracted, unfocused, entertainment-filled life: all of these things contribute in a very real way to the decay of American life, indeed our basic human existence, and the afore-mentioned crises which we face. It is not my intention to indict any one group, nor do I speak from a place of hypocrisy, as I am guilty of many of the ills listed above, as are many other Americans. However, it is my wish that we should strive to reduce and eliminate these vices. As our next leader, it is incumbent upon you to provide Americans with a good example, and in fact, to denounce these problems.

These are my hopes. I do not believe either of you currently is anywhere near agreeing with me. As such, neither of you will receive my vote this November. It is my sincere hope to have my faith in our democratic system, and our American republic, restored at some point in the near future. Until then, I will do my best to do what I can to change these things I have discussed. I hope others will join me. If I am wrong, I will admit it. If I am right, however, I expect the same from those who opposed me.

Please hear me, and do not simply continue the massively-flawed situation with our American government, with minor changes here and there. It is never easy to change the course of history. But sometimes, despite the difficulty, it is necessary. Now, I believe is one of those times.

Sincerely and faithfully,

An American

Ain't Dead Yet

2008-10-17T16:04:00.002-04:00

Thursday night, in the middle of the 7th inning, with the Red Sox trailing 7-0, I began preparing myself to go to bed. I was nearly ready; had my shirt off, and was about to jump into bed. I had given up the Red Sox season, and was ready to get a decent night's sleep in preparation for another day of yelling at 6th graders.

My girlfriend asked if I was done watching the game. I told her she could turn it off. She didn't, but went to get herself ready for bed. Since it would be a few moments before she would be ready, I decided to put a shirt back on and sit down for the bottom of the 7th, and catch the Sox doing their best submissive dog impression, and continue to roll over and slowly die.

Instead, as you know by now, I witnessed the greatest comeback in playoff history.

Sometime in the top of the 6th inning, I had a feeling come over me. It was similar to the feeling I had during games 4 and 5 of the 2004 ALCS. It was the unmistakable feeling that the Sox' season would not end this way, that they would find a way to come back from (at that point) the 5-run deficit, and extend the series. Then Manny Delcarmen -- or as I like to call him, Eric Gagne Redux -- walked the only 2 hitters he faced, and Papelbon, forced to clean up the mess, allowed them to score. It was then that I finally lost any hope, and began to reconcile myself to the fact that the Sox would not beat this incredible Rays team, and fail to defend their World Championship, again.

But we all know what happened next. As the Sox began mounting their comeback, I took a somewhat uncomfortable position on the couch, snuggled with my girlfriend. For the next 2 innings, if either of us had to get up, or move around, I made sure we came back to that position. Hey, it worked, didn't it?

I am glad I stayed up and got to watch the incredible comeback. And while I am still terrified of this Rays team (they really are incredible, and deserve all of their success -- except for one Johnny Gomes... sucker-punching Coco like that was unforgivable; what a meathead), I have a restored hope that Josh Beckett will summon his inner Curt Schilling, fight through the pain, and find a way to shut down the opponent tonight, like he has in every postseason until this one.

I am so happy to have another chance to watch the Sox stave off elimination. At one point before the comeback, L said to me, "they can't win EVERY year." I replied, "Yeah, but I still want them to." And that's the way it goes. Even though they can't win every year, and we Sox fans are still reveling in 2004 and 2007, our devotion doesn't subside. We don't mind losing any less. We don't love winning any less. I want the Sox to win. I always do. And hopefully always will.

You'll find me tonight, on my couch, probably in the same position as Thursday, uncomfortably but happily willing the Red Sox on. I love baseball. And God bless America.

Liars and Thieves

2008-10-14T16:43:00.004-04:00

I know this isn't really the point of this blog,* but I simply must take a moment to recommend some music I've been listening to lately. I'm feeling a little guilty because I've downloaded everything for free, so I felt obliged to at least spread the word about these guys:

The Avett Brothers

*What IS the point of this blog?

And you can find their music for free downloadin' here. That is a link to their second full-length album (I think), called Introducing Emotionalism, and it's really the first one that I got, and got me hooked on them. If you check out the archives of that linked blog, you will see several more albums of theirs for your downloading pleasure. I also recommend the 2 Gleam EPs, especially the song "Murder in the City" on the second Gleam. It is an astoundingly beautiful, yet simple, ode to their family.

The style of music is a kind of new bluegrass, infused with post-punk sensibilities (how pretentious do I sound?), and incredibly brilliant, witty lyrics. Imagine Weezer with banjos, only if Rivers Cuomo hadn't gone completely insane. Even that description doesn't do these guys justice.

Anyway, I've been wearing out my iPod listening to these guys lately. Just thought I'd pass it along.

Update: Here is "Murder in the City". Give it a listen.

Several Things

2008-10-10T11:58:00.004-04:00

Ah yes, the ol' I've-been-too-busy-to-mention-everything-so-I'm-just-gonna-give-you-a-bullet-list-of-the-last-several-days-happenings blog. Nothing like good ol' fashioned American laziness.

1. Still teaching 6th grade Reading.

2. Still want to strangle approximately 8 of the 6th graders. Just to scare them. Don't wanna hurt nobody.

3. Went to see Ray Lamontagne perform at the Opera House in Boston last night. I'd never seen him or been to the venue. I gotta say, the acoustics were phenomenal, and Ray was a pretty impressive performer. His voice is outstanding. He goes from a throaty whisper to a full-on howling, and matches the bluesy, soulful music perfectly. 2 encores and a passionate performance of all the favorites, including my own personal favorite, "Empty", and several new songs really made for a nice evening. If you get the chance, I'd recommend seeing him. Just don't request "Trouble." Apparently he's sick of that song.

4. Excited for the Red Sox' continued run through the playoffs. They face a very tough Rays squad, who are too young to know that they are supposed to freeze up in the playoffs. As always, I'm enjoying October baseball this year, although I must say I was a little disappointed to see the Cubbies swept away so quickly. They just can't catch a break.

5. I make a trip to the family place on Lake Champlain in upstate NY this weekend for an Octoberfest celebration put on by my 58-year-old cousin, a behemoth of a man, physically and characteristically. He's probably 6'7", and pushing 300 pounds. He played college football, and then coached high school football for 30 years. And he's got a personality to match. He loves hosting, cooking, and drinking. With lots of family gathered to eat German food and imbibe, and the weather predicted to hold beautifully (mid 60s and perfectly sunny -- yes sir!), it promises to be a good weekend.

Update: 6. I had my court date for my speeding and driving on a suspended license violations on Monday. You remember, this one. The judge was apparently eager to be rid of me and onto more important things like restraining orders and more violent crimes, so he offered to wipe the suspended license charge for $200. I told him I couldn't pay that for about a month. He asked if I could pay $100 that day. I did, and was out of there with a guilty plea for speeding, a $100 payment, and a wasted day south of Boston.

The most painful part of the whole ordeal: the 6 trips to the DMV to get a Mass. license, including a road test; the 2 weeks without a license, including moving out of my apartment; and the money spent procuring a new license, as well as the money spent getting my car out of the tow lot (that alone cost me more than the court-imposed fine). The American judicial system at its finest. And you wonder why I detest democracy.

Finally, I've had many thoughts recently on politics, foreign policy developments, the Presidential election, and things at that nature. Unfortunately, these thoughts are scattered. When I track them all down and get them in a pile, I will organize them into a readable blogpost for you, the people. Until then, enjoy your fall!

There's Only One October*

2008-09-30T18:09:00.003-04:00

*Copyright Major League Baseball. Any descriptions, copies, or accounts of this blog without the express written consent of Major League Baseball are prohibited. And man, what a terrible ad campaign from MLB there. First, they really screwed it up last year with Dane Cook, who's unprecedented rise from "little-known comic" to "one of the most reviled humans on Earth, and with good reason" was astonishingly fast. But I digress. I mean, really, what does "There's Only One October" mean? It doesn't call to mind any familiar quote or feeling or something. And we know there's only one October. If there were 2 months called October, that would get really confusing. Obviously, it's meant to invoke that there is only one month a year in which the baseball playoffs excite us. But why not just say, "There's Only One Baseball Postseason!" I guess it just doesn't have the same ring to it. And that, my friends, is why I don't work in advertising.

Alright, now onto more appropriate things.*

*Though you gotta give me credit for calling out Dane Cook right? Is there anyone left alive at this point who thinks he is a humorous, not-a-huge-jerk, person? Other than the Hollywood producer who green-lighted whatever that latest movie was with him and that blond who was in "Almost Famous"? Buh-zing!

OK, last interruption, I promise.

As you know, the baseball playoffs start tomorrow, with game 1 of the most important series, and of course, the one that I'll be discussing here: Boston Red Sox vs. the California Angels of the United States of the Earth.

This is a tricky series. The Red Sox have had the Angels number in recent postseasons, knocking them out en route to the World Championships in both 2004 and 2007. I still remember where I was and what I was doing when Manny hit that monster blast over the Green Monster last year to end game 2 against the Angels. I was in Burlington, VT, at a small pub, listening to a funky, folksy music group, and drinking whiskey and beer. Good times.

However, while the Sox have owned the Angels in the postseason, a couple things have changed this year. One, that afore-mentioned Angel-killer, a certain long-haired, space cadet named MannyBeingManny, no longer plays for the Sox. And second, the Angels and Red Sox have played 9 times in 2008. The Angels won the last 8 of those games. That's not a good sign, my friends.

To add to the misery, the Angels beat Josh Beckett twice. Beckett already has a postseason pedigree to match any pitcher in history, but with a strained oblique muscle hurting him, he won't start until game 3, putting some pressure on the Red Sox young lefty, Jon Lester.

But this might turn out to be a blessing since Lester has already beaten cancer and last year beat the Colorado Rockies in the World Series-clinching game for the Sox. He threw a no-hitter this year, and has been solid all season. I have faith in the youngster.

Even more encouraging is the Angels complete lack of hitting. They have 9 guys who played at least 90 games this season, and only 2 of them OBP'd above .345. Unfortunately, that leaves out Mark Teixiera, who's played like a man possessed since he was traded from Atlanta to Anaheim. He could be the best hitter on either team right now.

What the Angels lack in hitting, however, they make up for with great pitching. This series will pit a very good hitting team against a very good pitching team. The Red Sox pitching isn't terrible though. The big questions for the Sox will be Beckett and the bullpen. Without contributions from those guys, the Sox will have to get great outings from Lester, an always shaky Dice-K, and possibly the ageless wonders Tim Wakefield and/or Paul Byrd to have a chance to win the series.

I'm excited for the playoffs, I'm excited to watch all of the teams play (especially all the teams on the NL side), there are plenty of good stories here, and it should make for some good ol' American pasttime greatness. Remember, it only happens once a year.

Don't Stand Too Close To Me

2008-09-28T09:50:00.004-04:00

I love to cook. I really enjoy trying to make new things, coming up with new creations, or perfecting my old standbys. I may have missed my calling. Perhaps in my next life I can go to cooking school, and really learn how to cook.

Mostly I love to cook, I think, because I love to eat. I love food. I love putting different, complementary flavors together. I love how varying textures can perfect a dish. I love how the right meal can really set your whole day right.

So it was with great pleasure that I prepared one of my favorite concoctions yesterday. As a Nor'easter raged outside, dumping inches of rain on us -- and the temperature dropped into the 50s, it seemed to perfect day to make the first pot of chili of the season.

I love how flexible and versatile chili is. You can add almost any ingredient to chili if you think it might work, and it usually does. Every pot of chili I make is different, and it's become almost an obsession to find the right mixture. The best part is, while I may realistically never make the perfect pot of chili, every pot I do make turns out fantastic in its own right. Chili is a lot like sex: when it's good, it's great; and when it's bad, it's still pretty good.

Yesterday, my pot of chili included the following:

1 lb. ground turkey (you can substitute beef, chicken, pork, venison, squirrel, rabbit, whatever you feel like really; just not human flesh... unless you're a zombie, in which case you probably won't take the time and effort to actually cook your meal, or season it, or even mix it in with other ingredients. Oh, and if you're a vegetarian, you don't get to enjoy the wonder of chili, because it MUST have some sort of meat in it. I will not argue about this.)
2 cans (15 oz.) - tomato sauce
1 can - light red kidney beans
1 can - dark red kidney beans
1 can - corn
1 can - diced tomatoes
1 green bell pepper - chopped
1 yellow onion - chopped
2 jalapeno peppers - chopped
1 packet chili seasoning
Chili powder and pepper
Cumin
Oregano
Black pepper
Salt
Sugar
And the piece de resistance that tops it all off: cinnamon.

I've listed the spices in roughly the order of how much each is used, from most to least. But make no mistake, the sugar and cinnamon are crucial to provide a hint of sweetness to counterbalance the spiciness of all the peppers.

Other ingredients I have used in the past: habanero peppers, celery, other types of beans (pinto, black, etc.). Feel free to add whatever ingredients strike your own fancy. I won't be offended.

To serve chili, I still use something I learned from my mother growing up: basing the chili in your bowl with a little cooked elbow macaroni. It helps thicken it even more (as if it needed more thickness), and provides a cool respite from the spicy heat of the chili.

Finally, I top my chili with grated cheese. Yesterday it was monterey jack with jalapeno, but you can use anything: cheddar, monterey jack, havarti, even mozzarella.

I also like to serve chili with either corn bread or corn muffins. Gotta have something to sop up the sauce at the bottom of the bowl.

Last night, it was perfect for a cold evening made for snuggling up on the couch under a blanket and watching LOST on DVD. Just make sure you don't put your head under my covers later that night.

I'm an Elitist

2008-09-24T17:29:00.004-04:00

Over at Joe Posnanski's blog, he recently put up a post in which he uses a paragraph from a political column as a jumping-off point into a discussion of sports. I thought the paragraph -- and the topic it raises -- a particularly intriguing one though. The author is Sam Harris, and I haven't bothered to read the actual entire column, but here is the paragraph in question:

“Ask yourself: how has “elitism” become a bad word in American politics? There is simply no other walk of life in which extraordinary talent and rigorous training are denigrated. We want elite pilots to fly our planes, elite troops to undertake our most critical missions, elite athletes to represent us in competition and elite scientists to devote the most productive years of their lives to curing our diseases. And yet, when it comes time to vest people with even greater responsibilities, we consider it a virtue to shun any and all standards of excellence. When it comes to choosing the people whose thoughts and actions will decide the fates of millions, then we suddenly want someone just like us, someone fit to have a beer with, someone down-to-earth—in fact, almost anyone, provided that he or she doesn’t seem too intelligent or well educated.“

This is something I have briefly touched on before, the idea of elitism. I don't think I explicitly used that word, but the idea was there, just not fully formed. My contention, after all this introduction, is that elitism is not a bad word. It's not a bad word in every context mentioned above, and it shouldn't be a bad word in politics. I would take it farther and suggest that it should not be a bad word in any context. I will now attempt to defend that statement.

In the same post from JoeP, a commenter mentioned that while he agreed with Harris that elitism should not be a bad word applied to politicians, he suggested a difference between good* elite and bad elite.

*Emphasis is mine.

According to the commenter, good elite is the kind that Harris mentions above: those who excel at what they do, and accordingly, should be encouraged and supported in leadership roles, including politics. I think we can all see why it makes sense to have the best political thinkers and leaders in our upper political positions.

Bad elitists, then, would be those who disagree with the assertion made in our own American Declaration of Independence, that "all men are created equal." People who assume that men are not born of equal ability or talent are the elistists who should be derided and who rightfully have no place in American politics.

Here, then, is the crux of my argument. Thomas Jefferson was wrong. All men are NOT created equal. It is a basic truth of human existence that we are not all born with equal abilities and talents mentally, physically, or otherwise. When I was born I was already smarter than many of those around me, while some others were naturally predisposed to be smarter than I. We recognize this in many facets of life already.

In sports, we instantly recognize, accept, and even laud that professional athletes are stronger, more athletic, faster, agile, and generally more gifted than we are. Certainly there are only a few who can get by without incredibly hard work, but it takes immense natural talent to be a professional athlete.

So it is with intelligence. There is a segment of the population that is simply not as smart as the rest. Naturally, some people are smarter than others. There are many factors that, ultimately, play a part in determining how intelligent a person is and becomes. Access to education; the family environment during formative years; how devoted that person is to developing their mental capacity -- all of these and numerous others play important roles. But the single largest determining factor of how intelligent a person will be is simply how large their capacity for intelligence is at the time of their birth, and the parents who have passed on their genes.

It stands to reason then, though it is by no means an unadulterated rule, that intelligent parents will have intelligent children, while dumb parents will have dumb children. Following this logic, it also stands to reason that if an intelligent person has elevated himself -- or proved himself worthy of an elevated position -- his children should be given the benefits that an elevated social position brings. There is nothing wrong with a merit-based aristocracy.

In fact, it seems logical that if there is a hierarchical social system, that this will only encourage those who are in the bottom of the hierarchy to work harder to overcome their challenges in an attempt to rise to the top. This in turn should put pressure on those already in higher positions to work harder themselves to maintain their standing.

What Jefferson should have written is that all men are created FREE. If we establish (or at least attempt as much as possible) equal opportunities for education and keep our society free from any unnatural hindrances to social mobility for everyone (both upwards and downwards), then we should see a natural elite rise to the top. Instead of discouraging this inherently human tendency, we should turn it into a positive thing; something to be used an example to encourage the human race to aspire to better things.

It is better to build up, than to tear down. The reverse is easier. As is often the case in human existence, the easiest path is the wrong one.

Back to School

2008-09-22T16:13:00.002-04:00

Ah, fall. The air takes a crisp chill, the leaves start to change, pumpkins and cornstalks show up everywhere, local breweries make a "harvest" or "Octoberfest" beer (oh, god, the spiced beer...), football gives blockheads something to enjoy, and schoolkids return to their studies.

Me, I've just started upon my journey into teaching. I've signed on to be a substitute in a small, rather impoverished community in central New Hampshire. My first day last week I took over for an 8th grade science teacher. We all remember how silly (or other, stronger words) we were at age 14. So that was interesting.

This morning, I started an assignment to take over a 6th grade reading class for at least 2 weeks while the permanent teacher is on medical leave. I have no experience teaching below 10th grade, and while I am certified as a teacher in MA, it's in the subject of History. I have a Bachelors and half of a Masters degree in History.

What I don't know is how to teach kids how to read. And many of them need help with exactly that. Compounding the problem is that I am learning how to manage a classroom of 12-year-olds as I go. I have no training and no experience in this area. I'm learning discipline, routine, and classroom control by trial and error. It's not easy.

But while it's tiring, frustrating, and sometimes downright unnverving, I am trying to maintain a positive outlook. I am trying to see this experience as a chance to learn, to gain valuable knowledge and experience; a resume-builder for when I can find my ideal job teaching high-schoolers history. Sometimes to get to our ideal position, we have to work our way up -- and put up with things we would rather not. Or at least that's how I'm choosing to view this.

In the meantime, if anyone has any advice, suggestions, help, or just plain encouragement, it would be greatly appreciated.

Note: I promise this won't turn into a teacher's blog, posting all my frustrations and joys of dealing with little bastard adolescents. I'll hopefully return soon to my somewhat humorous, trivial observations and reflections on life.

I Thought This Was Funny

2008-09-15T15:51:00.002-04:00

My girlfriend reading Cosmopolitan last night, when she comes across an advertisement for Britney Spears' perfume:

"Let's see what skank smells like."

Also, I don't know if you've seen those yellow pages commercials with the chick who's trying on her wedding gown, but then looks up the weird creepy guy in the futuristic yellow book for tattoo removal. The tattoo she evidently wants removed is the name "Mike" which is situated -- in classic tramp-stamp form -- on her lower back. The guy asks when she's marrying Mike, and she answers, "uhh... Tom."

I have a couple questions. I'm assuming this classy broad doesn't have the strictest morals, if she's allowed someone to brand her. So by extension, I'm also assuming that her fiancee Tom has probably seen her naughty bits. And he's probably also seen this other guys name on her lower back. Just a hunch. So does this mean that Tom doesn't care that another guy has his name branded on Tom's soon-to-be bride? Or has this lady reformed herself, suddenly found some morals, and refused to allow Tom to see her naked before their big day?

Or am I just thinking way too much about a silly commercial?

Love That Dirty Water

2008-09-12T12:37:00.003-04:00

What would this blog be without another baseball update? I thoroughly love the sport, and despite my better half's protestations, I cannot quit my passion for the game. To me it represents America. While other, more simple, more violent games have overtaken baseball in popularity (yes, I'm referring to the NFL), baseball remains -- to me -- a much better, more interesting sport.

It is a game for the intelligent, the strategist, someone who enjoys thinking more than watching another human being smash into other human beings. It is the cat and mouse game of a pitcher and catcher deciding how best to trick a batter. It is the managerial battle of wits in the late innings as wise men determine how best to situate their teams defensively, or to pinch-hit just the right batter, or bring in a different reliever to deal with a specific batter. It is pinch-running a fleet-footed runner to steal a base and gain an advantage to push across a late-inning run to win a close game. It is an entire stadium of tens of thousands of fans rising to their feet when a pitcher has 2 strikes against a batter and the chance to get out of a jam and preserve a lead. It is the way those same fans explode when a batter comes through with a timely hit to give his team the lead, or -- in the most dramatic fashion in all of sports -- a walkoff win. Not even a buzzer-beater shot in basketball can compete with the drama and euphoria of a walkoff home run.

So it is with these thoughts that I prepare to attend what is unfortunately only my second game at Fenway Park this year, tomorrow night. The Red Sox are yet again in the thick of a pennant race, poised to get to the playoffs and defend their world championship. They can still chase down the upstart Rays for the division title, but even if they don't, they have a strong hold on the wild card lead. However, this weekend, they have a 4-game set with the suddenly surging Blue Jays, winners of 10 of their last 11 games.

I have been to Fenway Park nine times in my life, dating back to 1989 or 1990. All nine times, the Red Sox have won the game I attended. Can you hear me knocking on wood? I fully intend to do all in my power to get my mark at Fenway Park to 10-0 Saturday night.

For the rest of the weekend, I will enjoy all that Boston in the waning warmth of summer has to offer. Several out-of-town friends will be there with me, and I am excited for their company. On Sunday, my girlfriend will celebrate her birthday, and I hope I have done enough to make it memorable for her. I can give you the details of my gifts to her on Monday.

For now, go Sox!

Worst. Blogger. Ever.

2008-09-11T14:25:00.004-04:00

Quite the drought here, eh? Apologies. Not much to report, or muse on. Or maybe I've just been too lazy and busy. Yeah, that's it.

Well, let's see. I finally am a licensed driver again, after only 2+ weeks of being without a license. Now I only have to appear in court in Massachusetts in a few weeks and convince a judge that I had no idea that my VA license had been suspended, and hope he doesn't convict me of the criminal charge of driving on a suspended license, in addition to speeding.

I got word that I passed my MA educator's tests with flying colors, and have been certified as a History teacher in MA for both grades 5-8 as well as 9-12. Now I need a job, teaching.

I have moved out of my apartment in Boston* and am pursuing work and a place to live in New Hampshire.

*You think moving is a pain in the ass right? Well, next time you move, try doing it without having a drivers license. It's a LOT of fun. The moral of the story: don't be like me.

I have had some thoughts about the state of American politics, especially fired up by the recent national Party conventions. These thoughts, however, are still disorganized, so that post will have to wait for a further day.

I will, however, leave you with this thought:

After my six (yes, SIX) trips to the DMV before I resolved my license issue, and brought on by watching a bit of the national conventions, I was struck with somewhat of an epiphany. We all know our country has been heading down a socialist path for quite some time, and it's probably only a matter of time before we accept universal, socialized health care. But ask yourself this: do you really want the same people who run the DMV, managing your health care? It's a frightening thought.

The Bay State's Finest

2008-08-22T15:33:00.005-04:00

In the past couple days, I've seen the best and the worst that Massachusetts has to offer. A couple of days ago, I came home from work, satisfied at a nice day working outside, in some of the most glorious weather that has ever graced God's creation. The sense of wonderment I got from it is indescribable.

Wednesday was probably the most perfect day I have experienced here in New England, where the weather can sometimes drive one to madness as well. It was 72 degrees; the sky was a sparkling, clear, cloudless blue. Literally not one whiff of cloud was to be seen. A stiff, yet gentle and refreshing breeze blew, rustling beautiful green leaves, and perfectly complementing the already perfect temperature. I even texted a couple New England friends that "God hasn't made many days more perfect than this one."

My cares, worries, anxieties, stresses... they all melted away with the magnificent experience of it all. I was happy in a way that I find myself increasingly missing -- though I am in general, and in almost all situations, an optimistic, cheerful person. Albeit with a cynical, sarcastic side.

Yesterday however, after another day of work in nearly equally perfect weather (only the temperature had changed -- risen slightly), I was driving home in another state of blissful ignorance. In a few minutes, it was all shattered, and my enjoyment of yet another glorious (though warmer still) day today has been ruined.

A Massachusetts state trooper caught me speeding in my VA-tagged car. I had no excuse for my infraction, and when he asked me for one, I could not give him one. I cooperated with him fully, and even somewhat cheerfully, still riding the wave of happiness that accompanied the beautiful weather.

I gave him my VA license, at which point he informed me that as a resident of Massachusetts, I had only had 30 days in which to get licensed in MA, and I had passed that point. I told him I was unaware of that rule. He then asked if I had any outstanding warrants or infractions against me in either VA or MA. I replied in the negative to both, confident that he would find my clean driving record*, and perhaps, with a bit of luck and the positive spirit in the air, let me off with a speeding ticket and an admonition to update my license to MA.

*I have not had a traffic infraction, including speeding, in over 5 years, which would mean that my driving record should show no infractions at all. I was very proud of this.

There was to be no such leniency. I waited in my vehicle while he ran my license and plates for what began to seem like a little too long. When he finally returned to me, he asked me to turn off my car, leave the key in the ignition and step out. Confused but cooperative, I did as I was told.

In an instant, he informed that my VA license had been suspended, so in addition to the speeding ticket, he was citing me for driving on a suspended license, keeping my VA license, and having my vehicle towed. I asked, "Am I going to have to pay them to get it from their lot?" He replied, "Yes." Because the car is still registered to my mother, and not to me, he told me he wouldn't be taking the plates. What a favor. The tow truck was just arriving. I had only a few seconds to gather up my belongings from the vehicle, including especially anything valuable. He told me I needed to call someone for a ride. Confused, harried, unsure why my VA license had been suspended without any notice to me, I hurriedly gathered up my car iPod player, my cooler in which I carry my lunch to work, and a clean shirt to cover up my paint shirt.

Let me paint the scene. I am pulled over in a parking spot in front of Wollaston Beach, in Quincy, MA. This beach is about 10 miles south of Boston. Directly offshore are numerous tiny islands dotting the bay. In the hazy distance, one can see the skyline of Boston. It is a nice beach, and on a gorgeous day like yesterday, at 5:30, it was full of those enjoying the public area: sunbathers, joggers, bikers, walkers, swimmers (though not many), dog-walkers, mothers and their children... a wonderfully idyllic scene.

Now contrast that with me, standing on the sidewalk, having just been informed that I have been stripped of my license, my personal property which is being loaded onto a flatbed truck, and I have to find my own way home, which is still some 20 miles away. I am confused, a little frightened, a lot frustrated, and unsure of why this is happening to me or where to begin to resolve it. I could think of absolutely no reason why my license should be suspended. I frantically called anyone I could think that may be able to pick me up.

"Any luck finding a ride?" the cop asked from behind the truck. "Not yet," I responded, attempting to intone extreme annoyance in my voice. Perhaps I should have been more demonstrative.

In another flash, my car was hauled off, and behind the truck, the state policeman, with nary a word of explanation, encouragement or help, drove off as well. Truly, Massachusetts' finest. I am not a criminal, but I was certainly treated as one. And Bay Staters wonder why residents and businesses (with all the tax revenue they both provide) are leaving their state in droves.

I am left unable to get myself to my place of employment today and tomorrow while I sort through the legal red tape to untangle myself from this mess. My dealing with the state of VA, which came first this morning, in an effort to determine the cause of my license suspension, was relatively quick, easy and painless.

My ordeal with Massachusetts has only begun, as I have already been once to the DMV, waited for over an hour to obtain a license, only to be rejected. I can only hope that I am able to resolve the situation early next week, in an effort to be able to return to work so I can make money which will then undoubtedly be used to pay whatever additional fees I incur in my future dealings with the state (not the least of which will be the licensing fee: a tidy $110. Because the gentleman reviewing my application and snapping my terrible picture has to put in so much effort for all 5 minutes.).

If you are still reading, and have not been bored to tears by my story of woe: congratulations, and thanks for sticking it out. I'm sorry I have no great realization for you. But perhaps, a lesson: doublecheck your license status, and don't get caught speeding in Massachusetts.

Oh, and the red line is only several blocks' walk from Wollaston Beach.

I've Got Nothing

2008-08-14T21:19:00.002-04:00

Sorry for the drought here. I've literally got not much to discuss. I've been working doing manual labor... again. Painting houses, if you must know. It ain't the best work, which is why I stopped doing it a couple years ago when I moved up to Boston. But it hasn't been too bad. It's nice to work outside, get some exercise, rather than sitting in a back-wrecking desk chair, finding ways to avoid doing desk work, all the while wishing that I was outside doing work and getting exercise.

So that's good, I suppose. The other good news is that my teaching license has been approved, pending my passing scores on the teaching exams that I took a few weeks ago.

So I've been applying to a few teaching jobs, and one looks like exactly what I'd like. Keep your fingers crossed for me! Time is growing short before most schools start back up, so I really need to find something quickly.

An East Side Institution That Is In Decay

2008-07-29T21:34:00.005-04:00

I suppose it's only appropriate that I write up a little something about this weekend, since it included my brother getting married and all. Several observations, laid out for you:

1. I understand why people always say their wedding day is the fastest day of their lives.

You spend several months planning this day, down to the smallest detail. Then it shows up, and all of sudden you're surrounded by dozens (or hundreds) of friends and family. People show up who you haven't seen in years. Everyone wants to talk to you. I noticed that the bride and groom were the first to get the dinner (it was buffet style), yet they were probably among the last to finish eating, if they even finished at all. Once they had sat down, they were accosted by people wanting to catch them for a word or two. Then they got up and walked around.

Before the wedding, you're running running around, making last-minute arrangements, making sure everything goes smoothly. Then you get dressed, which takes a long time. You want to look your best, so you take your time shaving and doing your hair and getting everything just right. Then you don't get to see your friends and family get seated; then the music starts and all of a sudden the bridesmaids are slowly sasheeing (sp?) down the aisle.

At the reception, you have to talk to everyone. You have to dance with your old friends. You have to shake hands. You have to take pictures for about an hour. Then you get re-introduced. Then you dance with your Mom. Or Dad. Or both. Then with your siblings. Then there are speeches and/or toasts. Then you cut the cake and feed it to each other. You try to have a drink.

Then you're running the gauntlet, avoiding the bubbles or bird seed or whatever people throw at you in an effort to make sure that you have to take a shower before you get to the wedding night goodness, because no one wants to make love to a bird feeder.

And before you know it, you're passing out in your hotel room wondering if you even got to try that delicious chicken cordon bleu and the bacon-wrapped scallops at the reception. And hoping you didn't miss talking to anyone and inadvertently offend them.

I was only in the wedding party, not getting married, and it went by in a blur for me. I can only imagine that it's quicker for the bride and groom.

2. For me, it was fantastic to see all of my family gathered together. There were family members whom I hadn't seen in years. My Mom's family is all in Wisconsin, so I don't get to see them much. It really was a treat to be able to catch up with everyone.

3. Can we declare a moratorium on the word "cute" applying to every inanimate object under the sun? I understand brides and their mothers and their bridesmaids want everything to coordinate, down to the tablecloths and the toilet paper and the grass outside the church. And that's great. Good for them. It's a big day, they want everything to look good and make the marriage perfect and lasting. I get it.

But please, please, let's stop 23-year-old girls from calling napkins "cute" and tiny gift-bags "cute" and tissue paper "cute" and coffee spoons "cute." These things are not "cute". They are "small" or "colorful" or simply "matching". So, stop it. Please. I will respect you more.

4. Wedding DJs must be stopped. I'm convinced they are members of an ancient secret society with plans to destroy civilization by playing terrible, god-awful, ear-bleeding, soul-killing, brain-drying songs that only mentally-challenged persons can enjoy and do an updated Electric Slide to.

And for you, bridesmaids and gay friends who perpetuate these evil men: just because a song tells you to jump two times to the left, doesn't mean you have to do it. I know the reggaeton beat just makes you want to move your hips and scream at each other at banshee levels, but it's not good.

You may think I'm confusing two separate issues. Allow me to recreate one scene for you. It's the bridal party introductions. The parents, bridesmaids and groomsmen are introduced to a nice mix of understated music like Frank Sinatra. Finally, before the bride and groom come in, the DJ stops and switches to "The Final Countdown." That leads to this exchange between myself and my bridesmaid partner. For the sake of this scene, I'll call her Completely And Utterly Insane Woman-Child. That should help.

Me: "What? The Final Countdown? Is this a wedding reception or the Super Bowl?"
CAUIW-C: "Haven't you seen Arrested Development?"
Me: (Attempting to impale myself on my shoetips.)

5. Alright, you're probably saying to yourself at this point: "Jeepers, Tig, you are a heartless, cold cynical bastard. Did you even try to have fun?" Well, you're right about the first thing. And the answer to your question is an emphatic Yes. And not only did I try, I actually did have fun. I had a blast. I danced with my beautiful little nieces (who made such magnificently resplendent flower girls that it was actually painful -- I think one guy's head exploded). I danced with my cousins. I talked with people I hadn't seen in a while. I joked and laughed and smiled until my face hurt.

I was an usher and I walked many people in. I walked past seated people many times. After the wedding someone asked me, "Were you really that happy? You had the biggest smile on your face the whole time." I really was that happy. It was a happy occasion. I was happy to be there. I enjoyed myself immensely.

Fenway and No-Hitters

2008-07-29T21:06:00.003-04:00

Well, I'm watching the Red Sox get no-hit by John Lackey at Fenway Park, and I'm doing everything I can think of to jinx it. A few observations:

1. When did Fenway Park become a suitable park for pitchers? Fenway has always been a very good hitters park. Now, we're 5 outs away from seeing the 3rd no-hitter in Fenway within the last 5 (baseball) months. That seems pretty weird. Of course, maybe it's just a lucky convergence of the Red Sox having several good pitchers, since the last 2 no-hitters were 2 young Sox pitchers.

2. I really haven't been able to follow the game closely because I usually just have the games on in the background while I do other things. And actually, I usually have the game on mute because I cannot stand the voice of Don Orsillo, the NESN play-by-play guy. And here we come to the real point of this post.

I loathe Don Orsillo. Well, that's not exactly right. I have nothing against Don Orsillo as a human being. He seems like a nice guy. He's pretty funny. And he's actually a pretty entertaining baseball announcer.

No, I don't hate Don Orsillo. I hate Don Orsillo's voice. I'm beginning to wonder if I have a mild form of a OCD, because I find myself cringing at the voice of many, many TV or radio personalities. It's not so much what they say (though sometimes it is), but their actual diction, pronunciation, vowel emphasis, and enunciation.

The biggest thing that bothers me about Orsillo's voice is the way he pronounces the "S" sound. If it's at the end of a word, he dragssssssssss it out. But what makes it worse is that he really hitsssss it hard. He literally hisses. Even "S" sounds in the middle of words, he hisssssssessssss them out. It's extremely annoying. It's beyond annoying. It makes me want to rip his vocal cords out of his throat. It makes me want to dig out my eardrums with a dull spoon. It's roughly on the same annoying level as scraping your teeth along a chalkboard.

There are other parts of his speech that bother me. His voice rises up and down during certain segments. He doesn't pronounce some words at all. His favorite word is not one that is in any English dictionary. It's "mnehh". He uses it after he has not spoken for a few moments. If there has been silence, he will use this non-word to begin whatever sentence he follows it with. Usually something like "mneh Dustin Pedroia to lead-off the inning for the Red Sox."

So that is why I watch Red Sox games on mute now. I literally cannot stand the voice of Don Orsillo -- Dustin Pedroia breaks up the no-no!!!

While I was typing that last sentence, Peedy gets the first base knock of the evening. And then we are treated to classic Don Orsillo with this gem: "mneh, strike one to Kevin Youkilissssssss."

And then Youk knocks one into the AAA sign over the Monstah. The game is out of reach for the Sox anyway, but that's good to see. I don't think John Lackey deserves to no-hit a team as good as the Sox.

And how the hell do the Angels have the best record in the majors without a hitter OBPing over .350???? That's mind-boggling. I hate them.

Alright, thanks for letting me vent.

Edit: Yes, I am fully aware that I am probably completely neurotic for being so annoyed with a man's enunciation that I cannot listen to him speak or I get angry. Hey believe me, I wish I wasn't like this. I would give anything to be able to listen to him and not be bothered by it.

27 Dresses

2008-07-22T16:56:00.004-04:00

Yup, that's right, I'm writing about a cheesy romantic comedy film. I was forced into watching it this weekend, as a compromise with the girlfriend. But not to worry, this means with our next movie selection, I'll be submitting her to some gawd-awful action movie, or something with gratuitous sex and violence. It's all about balance.

I remember seeing an Onion article once, with a title like "Romantic Comedy Behavior Lands Local Man in Jail." The premise was, a love-struck man had tried to woo the lady of his affection using various methods that seem to work in Romantic Comedies. Upon their application to the real world, however, these methods became creepy and borderline illegal.

That idea seemed immediately appropriate to me while watching "27 Dresses" when it became apparent who the eventual happy romantic couple would be: in this case, the cynical yet charming writer who eventually wins the heart of our heroine, played by the tasty Katherine Heigl.

For those of you who haven't seen it, here's the plot: boy meets girl, girl rejects boy, boy pursues girl, girl sleeps with boy, boy does something to screw up chance with girl, boy and girl reconcile and live happily ever after.

I don't have to tell you that this formula applies to roughly 98% of all romantic comedies. Needless to say, "27 Dresses" doesn't improve on it. It merely places the characters in different life situations, jobs and with different interests and hobbies. Yawn.

But this brings me to a different question: why is it so hard to make a good, engaging -- and most importantly -- BELIEVABLE romantic comedy. Look, I understand that the point of movies is to watch something that does not reflect real life for a couple hours, and escape the drollness and difficulty of our lives. But wouldn't you want to watch something that at least resembles what your life is like? What's the point of watching something if it has no bearing and your life, no lessons to teach you, not even the faintest resemblance to anything you've experienced?

So here is my idea, which struck while watching the afore-mentioned characters do things I have not only never done myself, but never heard of anyone "real" ever doing or even imagine doing: shouldn't romantic comedies reflect what real relationships are like? What if a romantic movie showed us a couple who meet, connect and get along initially. They go out, have fun, like each other. Then, after a few months or years, they get comfortable. The guy farts in front of the girl; the girl asks the guy too many times what he's thinking; you know, the cliche things that every couple actually does have to deal with.

They yell at each other. They speak with a intonation in their voices that belies the bitterness and annoyance they feel at having to have put up with the other's idiosyncracies and obnoxious habits for the last several months.

But they love each other. They have good times. They can have a meal, say 10 words to each other, yet know exactly what the other is thinking or feeling. They miss each other if they are apart for an extended period of time. They remember things that the other forgets. They hold the same values, they raise children, they DO put up with each other's crap, they appreciate the other's strengths and interests.

Why can't we see a movie that deals with the real pitfalls, hardships and struggles of loving someone? If it wasn't worth putting up with all those things, we wouldn't watch these bad movies in the hope that they might show us a glimpse of the joy that love can provide. What makes love so marketable is it's universal appeal. But we all know it's not perfect. We don't want to escape that reality.

Love is not easy. And it doesn't fit a formula.

Hmm... maybe that movie had some value after all. If someone in Hollywood happens to read this blog.

My Ballpark Memories

2008-07-21T11:47:00.003-04:00

If you like baseball and you haven't been reading the blog of Joe Posnanski, you're really missing out. The guy is prolific. I'll be away from my computer for a couple days and return to find that he's written about 3 more blog-posts. And they are always long, highly entertaining, informative, and engaging. He's far and away the best sports-writer working today, and probably among the top 5 English language writers in general.

Recently, in a nod to the nostalgia surrounding the All-Star Game in soon-to-be-killed Yankee Stadium, he wrote a post in which he remembers the "dead" stadiums he's been to. Inspired by that post, here is my list of all ballparks I've been to, including dead ones, and the ones that are still around.

Dead (or dying) Stadiums

The Diamond - Richmond Braves.

This was the first professional ballpark I went to as a kid, and through the years I saw many games here. I still have (somewhere) an old scorecard with names such as Ron Gant, David Justice, and (I think) one of the great Braves pitchers -- I don't remember if it's Glavine, Maddux, or Smoltz. Or someone else.

Here I did get to see Andruw Jones when he was 19. He stopped in Richmond for about 2 or 3 weeks on his way to the big leagues, and I saw him hit a home run. You could tell he was destined for Major League stardom.

I even saw Jason Giambi in a game a couple years ago against the Yankees AAA farm team (at that time, the Columbus Clippers). He was on a rehab assignment, and I'll never forget that each time he came to the plate, he was booed mercilessly. Even in Richmond, where crowds often failed to break a couple thousand, fans knew that this guy was a cheater.

The stadium itself was very nice. It was much more intimate than a big-league park, the giant (if offensive) Indian statue out front was a landmark, and I am glad I got to experience a minor league park. The Braves leave Richmond after this season, and I assume the Diamond will come down soon after. That is really too bad; it's a beautiful stadium.

Milwaukee County Stadium - Former Home of the Milwaukee Brewers.

They tore down County Stadium sometime around 2000. If you recall, the 2002 All-Star Game (the one with the tie) was at the new Miller Park.

But I saw the Brewers play the Red Sox* here.

*Remember when the Brewers were an American League team?

I was pretty young (probably 9 or 10), and my family was in Wisconsin visiting my Mom's extended family. My Dad, brother, and Uncle drove down to Milwaukee for a day game. I don't remember much, except Mike Greenwell (my favorite player at the time, and probably in the midst of his best season when he was robbed of the MVP trophy by a 'roided-up Jose Canseco) hit a ball a long ways, that still didn't leave the yard. I don't even remember who won. I do remember that we sat in the nosebleeds and used binoculars to watch the players.

Riverfront Stadium - Cincinnati Reds.

Another now-dead stadium, and yet another vague childhood memory. Again on a family trip to Wisconsin, we stopped one night in Cincinnati. The San Diego Padres were in town, and my Dad decided to get us tickets.

Again we sat in the nosebleeds, and again I don't remember much of the game. I assume we saw Tony Gwynn get a hit because he always got a hit. What I really remember was the size of the park. It was totally encircled, with giant concrete arches all the way around the upper deck.

The Vet (or Veterans Stadium) - Philadelphia Phillies.

Man, this stadium was ugly. I went to an inter-league matchup against (who else?) the Red Sox in 2003. The day was overcast, and spitting rain -- it had been like that all week. When the Sun peeked through the clouds in the later innings, it got the loudest cheer of the game. Strange to hear fans say something other than "Boo" in Philly.

The vet was another completely encircled stadium (and like Riverfront, a combination baseball/football stadium). It had the ugliest astroturf I've ever seen. There were stained patches, and places where it looked like the concrete underneath was falling into a sinkhole. I did not envy the players on that stuff.

We had pretty good box seats for the game, and it turned out to be a good one. Pedro pitched well for several innings, then the Sox bullpen gave up the lead. Nomar went 6 for 6 (!!). Jim Thome (then on the Phils) hit not one, but TWO game-tying home runs (one in the 9th inning, one in the 11th). The game went to 14 innings. The Red Sox scored a run or 2 in almost every extra inning, only to have the bullpen cough up the lead in the bottom half of the inning. Finally, if I'm not mistaken, Pat Burrell hit a walk-off Home Run.*

*Ah, Baseball-Reference corrects me yet again. Apparently the game only went 13 innings, and it was Todd Pratt who hit the walk-off home run. The Red Sox scored a run in the 12th, and 2 in the 13th, only to give up both leads. I was correct about Thome hitting 2 game-tying home runs, though they were in the 8th and 12th. See, this is why computers and stats are good. They are more reliable than human memory.

I remember that the stadium was only half full because of the weather, and probably evenly divided between Sox fans, and Phillies fans. By the late innings, the Sox fans were making themselves heard, starting "Let's go Red Sox" cheers which usually lasted for a few seconds before Phillies fans drowned us out with their favorite word: "Boo."

The Vet was hideous as a stadium though. Yeesh. I do recall that there was a star painted on a seat way up in the right-field upper deck. I asked my Philly friend what that signified. Apparently Willie Stargell hit a ball there in a game. It must have been one helluva blast. That seat was WAY up there.

RFK Stadium - Washington Nationals.

The Nats played their first couple seasons in the Redskins' old stadium while the new stadium was being constructed. As with the other combo stadiums, this one too was huge and horrendous. I sat in the nosebleeds way up in left field, and saw an extremely boring game between the Nats and the Rockies. The Nationals lost, of course. Though we did see someone hit a home run, a rarity in that montrosity of a ballpark.

I can only assume that the new Nationals Park is a giant leap forward compared to RFK.

Still Surviving Stadiums

Oriole Park at Camden Yards - Baltimore Orioles.

I've seen several games here, and interestingly, almost all of them were against the Red Sox. This is a very nice ballpark. Probably the best one I've been too. The old brick factory building past right field looks nice, and the downtown skyline (only a few blocks away) rises over the center-field scoreboard.

It's a very well-done stadium, with all the amenities of modern ballparks (hey, legroom!), yet with a cosy feel and enough unique (but not contrived) quirks to set it apart from other parks. There's not a bad seat in the place, and once you're inside, there are some pretty interesting spots to check out. Probably the best is the standing-room spot atop the right field wall.

I've seen some good games here. Some memories that stick out:

-The 2003 "thunder and lightning" game against the Sox. A storm rolled in during the middle of the game, and between innings, while the Sox were warming up, a huge BANG of thunder hit the stadium. In the upper deck, I was making my way upward to take cover from the rain under the overhang. When the sound hit, I almost hit the steps. On the field below, Nomar dropped the ground. It was that explosive, loud, and frightening. Quite an experience.

- A 2005 game in which there were twice as many Sox fans as O's (now, that's pretty much always the case). David Ortiz hit a ball to deep (DEEP) center-field that looked like it cleared the fence. Only I saw Luis Matos leap and make an incredible home-run-robbing catch. Everyone else thought it was gone. It took several seconds for people to realize that he'd made such an amazing catch.

Fenway Park - Boston Red Sox.

Ah yes, and we've come to the jewel. My first game at Fenway I was probably about 9 years old. I remember sitting the grandstand along the first-base side, staring out at the Green Monster. Then for an inning or two, my Uncle and I sat 2 rows behind the visitors dugout on the 3rd-base side.

I was so young I don't remember much, but I do recall an aging Dwight Evans made an incredible throw from deep right field to nail a runner at home plate. We actually left the game early, with the Sox trailing, because my Uncle wanted to beat traffic. The Sox came back and won the game, 9-8. I've never left another game early in my life.

My next visit to Fenway didn't come until 2002. I sat in the bleacher seats for a game against the Devil Rays. Pedro ripped through them, not giving up a hit until the 5th inning. He was something to watch. Manny hit a homer over the Monster, and the game was never really in doubt.

Since I've moved to Boston, I've been to several games at the green jewel:

I've sat in the bleachers just behind the bullpen, and seen Manny put a homer there right in front of me.

I was in the bleachers a couple years ago for the 2nd consecutive game in which Fausto Carmona blew an Indians lead in the 9th, on a walk-off double from Mark Loretta.

I was in the grandstand last fall while Josh Beckett outdueled Roy Halladay (who threw a complete game in a losing effort), and Papelbon slammed the door shut on a 1-run victory.

I was in the bleachers last September when Dice-K beat the Twins, on the night the Orioles came back to beat the Yankees and clinch the Sox their first division title in 12 years.

I was in the grandstand this April when Manny hit a mammoth blast over the Green Monster and off the light-post halfway up.

In all, I have been to Fenway Park 9 times. In all 9 of those games, the Red Sox have won. I think that's a pretty good record.

Those That Can't Do...

2008-07-19T17:39:00.002-04:00

So I just finished up a long day of testing to make sure I am suitably qualified and intelligent and competent enough to teach children the subject of history in Massachusetts. First, I took a 4-hour test, which judged my ability to read, write, comprehend, spell, and use grammar, punctuation and capital letters correctly. Can you "use grammar"? Whatever.

This test was easy. I'd be surprised if I missed a question.

The second 4-hour test, however, was not so simple. Now, I have a Bachelor's degree in history from a pretty good university, and half of a Master's degree from said institution. I'm pretty knowledgeable in history. This test, however, rather than testing my knowledge, tested my patience. Out of 100 multiple choice questions, I'd say about 4 of them were pretty clear, cut and dry. The rest were terribly worded, based on equally terrible assumptions, or offered no satisfactory answer, forcing me to choose an answer that I did not agree with. I was not happy with this test, to say the least.

The essay questions, of which there were two, were also not fun, and not explained well or particularly well thought-out or supported. But I did my best. Hey, it's what I do. I usually test extremely well. Go ahead, ask me my SAT scores. And I'll tell you how I studied. (Oh, I forgot to say that I didn't study at all for today's tests.)

Anyway, I'm glad that part of the quest for teacher certification is over. I can't think straight. I tried talking when I got out of the test, and I couldn't put 4 words together. My brain hurts. My hand and wrist really hurt.

I need a drink.

HR Derby and All-Star Game

2008-07-16T13:26:00.003-04:00

I don't know if you bothered to watch the Home Run Derby on Monday night. I had it on, whilst busying myself with other things (mostly reading). I mean, it's pretty entertaining. Baseball's my favorite. And for you of the fairer sex, chicks dig the long-ball right?

Anyway, the Derby was chugging along pretty well through the first 7 contestants. A few of them were new to the contest, and it was fun to see young guys taking over baseball's show. All of them had pretty good showings, varying between 3 and 8 HRs. The only thing that bothered me were the incessant bad jokes made by Rick Reilly and teeth-on-a-chalkboard voice of Chris Berman. But mostly I was able to tune them out.

Finally, the last hitter of the first round stepped in: Josh Hamilton. If you haven't heard this guy's story -- well, first, you must be living under a rock because if you follow baseball at all, it's been EVERYWHERE, repeatedly. But it's a good story, and it's heartwarming, and uplifting, and all that. So it bears repeating. I first read it about a year ago. Here it is in his own words. Here is where I first read it.

This guy hit his second HR (the second pitch) 502 feet. That's a helluva long way to hit a baseball. He hit a couple more longer than that. But from that second Home Run on -- he got a standing ovation for that one -- he had Yankee Stadium in the palm of his hand. He went on the hit 28 HRs in that first round. I called my Dad to tell him to turn it on. I have never seen anything like it on a baseball field. I think we could be witnessing the beginning of the next great baseball player, on a level with Mickey Mantle, Ted Williams, and the true immortals of the game. He's that good. Anyway, I'm excited to watch this guy. Not much else to it. Sometimes, you just want to watch someone do something you could never do no matter how hard you were to work.

Boston Apology

2008-07-01T15:34:00.003-04:00

That’s "apology" in the sense of "defense," rather than as in "I’m sorry."

Yikes.

There’s a LOT of hatred directed toward Boston these days. It seems success breeds jealousy, or anger, or something.

In last week’s issue of Sports Illustrated, there is a large column written as basically an open letter to Boston (and New England) residents. The main point of the column is that Boston has gotten annoying. People are sick of hearing about the Red Sox, Celtics and Patriots. But it’s beyond that even. It seems pop culture has caught up with sports, and Boston is now the fashionable place to visit, film and set movies, and generally, affiliate yourself with. Even the success of "The Departed" and the TV miniseries based on John Adams’ life has contributed to Boston’s overbearing nature. Everyone is now piling on. Anywhere you go on the internets, you can find someone bashing Boston and everyone affiliated with it.

For instance, the Celtics have come under fire for their championship, and the way they conducted themselves in the course of winning it. For some reason, people question Paul Pierce’s knee injury; they claim the Celtics (just like the Patriots a few months ago) were "running up the score", as if that’s possible in professional sports; and someone even called Kevin Garnett’s display of emotion after winning was "contrived" and implied that it was tailor-made for an Adidas commercial.

Now, I don’t doubt that people are sick of Boston sports teams winning a lot. And I’m aware that the accusations leveled against the Patriots for cheating undoubtedly strip away some of the luster of their championships. I, for one, couldn’t care less. But that’s probably because I’m not a Pats fan. And I’m sick of hearing people whine about how the Patriots cheated. Get over it. They were found guilty, and they paid the price that the appropriate authority thought was just.

The Red Sox bandwagon has become so large, that one person on Boston.com called it a "caravan." That seems pretty apt. Fenway has become hugely overpriced, Red Sox hats have begun popping up in places where you used to see Yankees hats (when they were enjoying their late ‘90s championship runs), and the concept of "Red Sox Nation" is contrived and repugnant. But trust me when I say, it is equally repulsive to most die-hard Red Sox fans.

I can also understand people’s frustrations at Boston fans that are seemingly cropping up all over the country now. There are also many factors that feed into the HUGE number of New England sports fans who seem to infiltrate the rest of the country. Like I said in my Celtics post, sports mean a little too much in New England. So the fans who leave New England to live elsewhere take their sports loyalty with them.

There is a LOT of people in New England. It’s a large population area for only having one sports market. So naturally, there are a LOT of Boston sports fans.

Another factor is the humongous number of college students who go through Boston or New England. Many of them, I’m willing to wager, come to Boston with either no sports team affiliation, or weak sports team affiliation. As a result of the crazed Boston sports atmosphere, they get caught up in cheering for the Boston teams. Once indoctrinated with that crazed fanaticism, they carry it back to whence they came before college. Or wherever else they go.

I understand people’s frustration. I do. It’s easy to dislike Bostonites when columnists like one of my favorites Chad Finn, who now blogs on Boston.com, are ranking the 6 Boston championships from this decade according to their significance and sweetness. (To be sure, there is no agreement on that even among New Englanders, and it can lead to heated arguments – this probably isn’t any consolation to non-Bostoners. Moving on.) And most reasonable Boston fans understand it too. We made many of the same complaints about bandwagon fans when the Yankees were winning in the ‘90s.

I know this is cyclical. Right now the Red Sox have the best front office in baseball. They obviously benefit from a huge payroll, but their business savvy and baseball sense are undeniable. There are legitimately extremely intelligent people running that team. Ditto the Celtics and Patriots.

Be jealous if you want. I probably would be too. I want my sports teams to succeed as much as possible. What’s the point of being a fan if you don’t? But don’t hate us. We’re not all arrogant. We’re not all ignorant. We’re not all fat, drunken Irish guys who don’t pronounce the letter "R." We’re not all pink hat wearers. We’re not all the drunken college kids who riot and break things after one of our teams wins. We’re not all the racists that stained Boston’s reputation for years.
We’re just lucky. This is a good place to be right now. And boy, am I enjoying the hell out of it.

Music

2008-06-27T18:29:00.003-04:00

On a much happier note, I'm off to Boston Symphony Hall tonight, for an evening with Josh Ritter and Orchestra. It should be a lot of fun.

We Are All Just Waiting for Something to Happen

2008-06-27T18:28:00.000-04:00

I once got up in the middle of the night, on a sleepless night about 3 years ago, and wrote this down: "We are all just waiting for something to happen."

Last year, while reading Hunter S. Thompson’s "The Rum Diary", a novel based loosely on his time working for a newspaper in San Juan, Puerto Rico, I found a startlingly similar statement. I don’t recall the exact words, but it was very close to "We all seem to be just waiting for something to happen." Reading it stopped me cold.

I’m glad someone else understood my existential frustrations. I’ve lately observed something else that tells me I’m not alone.

I’ve been working in a corporate office in suburban Boston for the past several weeks. This office includes a couple hundred employees, most of them ranging in age from twenty-something to forty-something. It is a good company to work for. The office is very nice; the campus is well-kept; there is plenty of free parking; the cafeteria is well-run with good food and many good, cheap options; the employees are friendly and cooperative.

Yet corporate life is dreadful. Every day I come to work knowing that I will be annoyed by someone or something around me. I know I will overhear someone’s inane conversation about their family or their petty concerns. Call me a cynical bastard (in fact, I readily admit to this), but I don’t care what happens to some loser who sits next to me. And I guarantee you the person they’re talking to cares even less. It’s a contrived relationship. Yet everyone keeps up the charade. Everyone pretends to care. Everyone pretends to be nice.

This is probably too strong. I genuinely like my manager. And I think she legitimately wants to help me. And there are others I’ve befriended. But put it this way: I’ve made no long-term friends with whom I’ll stay in contact after I leave next week.

And the work is ultimately meaningless. If you had told your 5th grade self that you’d be working as an actuarial (that’s not what I do, but it’s a good example) and crunching numbers to determine what some 45-year-old cowboy in Oklahoma should pay to be insured, do you think your younger self would be happy? No, you’d be upset that you didn’t become a professional baseball player, or ballerina, or fireman, or something more exciting than an Assistant Regional Sales Director of Marketing and Operations.

Yet somehow we have convinced ourselves that it’s more important to find a steady job with good benefits, something that will provide us with another good stepping stone on our path of career development. But not everyone is happy with this. Some people do it because it seems to be expected of them. Because they can think of nothing better. Or because they don’t know how to escape it. Or they simply don’t want to.

I have noticed though, especially among the younger employees, that they all seem to be waiting, and eagerly anticipating, something or someone to come along. I find, as I come around the corner in the hallway, or the office, or through a doorway, that if there is someone there, they will look up, or wait an extra beat, or turn around – in an effort to identify just who it is that is coming around the corner, or through the door, or down the hall.

And I can see the longing, the anticipation, the hope in their eyes, that somehow, maybe, this person coming around the corner… is coming to save them. This person will turn out to be beautiful; the answer to their prayers for the perfect spouse. Or the stranger will be someone who can free them from the monotony of their job; someone who will offer them simply out of the blue a fantastically fun, well-paying, worry-free job. Or this person will – what? They don’t know. Somehow provide a way to break out and away from this place. Offer them happiness; give them an answer; save them.

We all have an ego. We all think we can do better than we are right now. We all know we deserve better. We’re just waiting for someone to recognize that greatness in us. We’re waiting for something to knock us out of our routine, which has become soul-draining, the opposite of life-affirming. We’re all just waiting for something to happen.

Writing

2008-06-26T17:43:00.002-04:00

Well, I wrote like three things today at work, and now I discover that I didn't email a single one of them to my home address, even though I thought I did. Well, I emailed one. But I don't like it, it's not complete.

I could try to write them again, but I doubt I'd be happy with what I come up with.

Sometimes, it's hard to come up with something to write about. I could write about my daily life. For instance, I could write about how I played basketball for 2 and a half hours last night. In fact, I have already written once today about how I discovered all sorts of things about my basketball game, and the types of players that I enjoy playing with and against. But I doubt you'd want to hear that.

Or I could write about what I'm cooking for dinner tonight. I'm an excellent cook. But I doubt you'd want to hear that.

I could tell you about what I'm reading. Or that I watched 4 episodes of "My Boys" online last night. Or that I've downloaded a lot of good music lately.

But all of that is kind of boring right? I mean, everyone does that. Why would you want to hear about the mundane, everyday things that we all do?

I'm not sure where I'm going with this. I just started writing and it all came flowing out. It's been like that all day. And I've noticed that lately my emails to my friend (with whom I exchange multiple emails a day during work-time (I'm productive!)) have been getting longer and longer.

Well, I'll make sure to email myself those things I wrote today. And I'll get them up tomorrow. And I'll just keep writing nonsense. To quote the great Harry Doyle: "Ah, don't worry, nobody's listening anyway."

My Obligatory Celtics Post (Although I'm Not Happy With It)

2008-06-21T08:15:00.004-04:00

I’ve been trying to write about the Celtics recent NBA Championship victory. As I said earlier, my Celtics’ loyalty runs deep. It meant a great deal to me that they were able to win their first championship in 22 years; basically, their first championship in my comprehensible lifetime.

In a way, it was more sweet than the Red Sox championship last year.

But what’s really important, is the sports dominance of Boston in the last decade. Boston is a sports-crazed town. The sports teams here mean a little too much. They represent something beyond just the toy chest of adult life. They unite New Englanders in a way little else does.

See, to be a New Englander means you are different than the rest of America. New England is isolated from the rest of the country. It is it’s own little corner of the country. Here is history; here is the foundation of American democracy. The New England townships represented the original democracies in America. The unique town-based government continues to this day. People are connected each other in legitimate ways in New England.

New England also represents the mixing bowl of America. There are towns and sections of towns all over New England which are still recognized as "Portuguese" or "Italian" or "Irish". Boston, the oldest of American cities, still has a "social register" of the most important few hundred families. Where else in America could an entire society have "Brahmins"? The old English "aristocracy" here still runs deep, though it has been increasingly replaced by a new upper class, best represented by the Irish Kennedy clan, who rule the social life on the image- and class-obsessed Cape Cod, Martha’s Vineyard, and Nantucket Island.

But across these class and ethnic divides, our Boston sports teams unite us. At Red Sox games, one can find Stephen King, any of the Kennedys, Matt Damon, as well as the thousands of New Englanders ranging from rich Boston bankers with accents reminiscent of the high society British royals, to Irish drunkards with the stereotypical Boston accent without "R"s. They’re all rooting for the same team.

The Celtics, Red Sox and Bruins all have tremendous, storied histories. The Red Sox were one of the original teams in the American League over 100 years ago, and they were the winners of the inaugural World Series in 1903 (they were known then as the Boston Americans). We all know the story of the Sox’ decades-long frustration until their recent success.

The Celtics have their own history, a much more successful one. In the ‘50s, ‘60s, ‘70s and ‘80s, the Celtics were the premier basketball franchise, holding a dominance over the NBA that can only be rivaled in sports by possibly the Yankees’ dominance in baseball. In one 13-year stretch, the Celts won 11 (ELEVEN!) NBA Championships. The legend of Red Auerbach and his victory cigars is one that will last for years in New England. Celtic Pride stretched from Connecticut to the upper reaches of Maine and Vermont.

The Bruins were one of the "Original Six" members of the NHL. They have slipped into mediocrity, but New Englanders devotion to the B’s still simmers under the surface, waiting for a revival like the C’s experienced this year. But many die-hards still fill the new Garden, cheering on a team that’s been all but abandoned by its ownership.

And while I personally am not a Patriots, one cannot forget their historic run of championships this decade, and their near-miss this season.

And see, whether you’re a sports fan or not, if you live in New England, you know all of this. When new sports leagues are created, the Boston market is always one of the first to get a team. People here crave sports. The New England Revolution were one of the original Major League Soccer teams formed in the mid-90s, and they too have been immensely successful, including 3 straight trips to the MLS Championship game.

Did you know there is Major League Lacrosse? And that’s right, Boston has a team. They play their home games in Harvard Stadium. Boston even has a professional football team. The one team Boston lacks is a female basketball team. Take that for what it’s worth.

I keep telling myself to soak this in, that it won’t last. The Red Sox won’t always be perennial contenders. The Celtics may fade back into mediocrity or worse. Boston sports won’t always be this dominant. Sports success is (usually) cyclical. Everyone who hates Boston now, because they don’t live in New England, will find some new dominant teams and cities to hate. The bandwagon fans will leave.

But for now, it’s really fun to be a Boston sports fan. Those who haven’t won can’t understand. See, Boston suffered for a while. Aside from the Celtics (who stopped winning by the ‘90s), Boston sports fans hadn’t seen their teams win in a long time until this decade. Now, it seems, all that sports karma has released a flood of championships.

It’s an incredible to stick with a team, to watch them for 80 games a season even when they’re starting Sebastian Telfair (who? Exactly.) at point guard, and then to see them reward you with the ultimate win. The Celtics victory parade last week was the 6th such parade in Boston in 9 years. It won’t last forever, but dammit, I’m enjoying it right now. Because it won’t last forever, and I know how that feels too.

Where Do You See Yourself in 10 Years?

2008-06-15T13:40:00.004-04:00

Besides celebrating the 10th anniversary of writing this post.

When I was a high school senior, we were asked to answer that question for one of those senior yearbook things. I can't remember if it was for the school yearbook, a graduation notebook, the school newspaper, or something else. Regardless, I decided to answer the question humorously rather than seriously. Very out of character, I know. My answer: "I'll be a motivational speaker, living in a van... down by the river!" (RIP, Chris Farley).

But now, as the 10th anniversary of my high school graduation has closed to within a calendar year, I find myself reconsidering that question. What am I doing? Where am I, 10 years on? And I'm not satisfied with the answers.

I've never been what you'd call a "goal-setter." I didn't view life that way. I didn't set myself goals to reach and go after. As a result, I haven't reached many things I figured I would. As they say, if you've failed to plan, you've planned to fail.

So here's where I see myself in one year:

1) Just finishing up my first year teaching history (either high school or middle school).
2) Living in Boston, but with an eye toward moving out to the country, to establish membership in a community.
3) Finishing a novel. I'd tell you more but I don't want to give it away. Or maybe I should tell you more, to get some feedback.
4) Paying off debts (school loans and otherwise) and saving money.

See, I'm not very good at this thing. But hopefully this is a good start.

I'm Really Fired Up For This Celtics-Lakers Finals

2008-06-05T20:31:00.004-04:00

At my grandparents 50th wedding anniversary (or maybe it was my Grampy's 75th birthday), they had the Celtics organ-player from the old Boston Garden at their house. He brought his own portable organ and played tunes during the party. It was kind of strange. But it illustrated the love my family has for the Celtics.

I grew up hearing stories of the old days, of the late Red Auerbach chomping on his cigars, of John Havlicek, Bill Russell, Tommy Heinsohn, Bob Cousy, Larry Bird, et al. Even my Granny loved Larry. She knew everything about him. She gave me his autobiography after she read it. Celtics Pride really was alive throughout New England.

In recent years, however, it's died out. The success of the Red Sox and the Patriots have satiated New England sports fans, while the Celtics have languished in mediocrity -- or worse.

But now, the long-awaited day has finally arrived. The Celtics are back in the Finals. There's something perfect about that statement. It feels right. My generation has been waiting for this for a long time. I barely remember the days of the Big 3 (Bird, McHale, Parrish). Clearer are my memories of an aging Legend having to lay on the floor of the Garden instead of sitting on the bench because of his back.

The Bad Boy Pistons and Jordan Bulls were taking over just as I came into NBA fanhood. Everyone suddenly loved those Bulls teams. I refused to jump on the bandwagon. I clearly remember staunchly refusing to cheer for them just because they were so damn good. My first real clear memory of the Finals is the 1992 Portland-Chicago, Drexler-Jordan matchup. I cheered for Drexler and Portland.

But always my heart was in Boston. With the Celtics.

The only professional sports game I saw live with my Grampy was a C's game -- my first live NBA game. We got to sit courtside for a quarter. It was one of the few times that I got to spend with him on my own. He died 2 years ago. I cherish that memory.

I'm glad he got to see the Red Sox win the World Series before he died. But I really wish he was here to witness the Celtics' revival. I trust that he's somewhere next to Red, enjoying this.

This May Shock You

2008-06-04T20:25:00.004-04:00

With the recent placement of David Ortiz on the disabled list and the expectation that he'll be on the shelf for at least a month, the Red Sox suddenly find themselves with a big offensive producer to replace. While Big Papi started horribly this season, he had come on very strong, continuing to produce a lot of runs in the middle of the Sox lineup, in front of Manny. Now, however, the lineup is missing some pop without him.

The question for the Sox, then, is how to replace Ortiz' numbers. They've got several good options, both on the bench and in the minors. Already, we've seen Sean Casey, another lefty who's got some power and can also spell Youkilis at first without sacrificing a lot defensively. We've seen some young guys from Pawtucket: Jeff Bailey, and now Chris Carter has been brought up. Brandon Moss and Jed Lowrie are also guys who have seen time with the big league club and could be called on again.

But really, how can you replace one of the best hitters in the league? Well, here's an idea: with one of, if not THE, greatest hitter of all time. That's right, Barry Lamar Bighead Bonds. Since Papi went to the DL, and especially in the last 2 days, all of the Boston blogs, sports talk radio shows (which I avoid like the plague), and everything else have been lighting up with talk of the possibility of the Sox bringing in the all-time HR champ to fill the DH spot.

The chances of this happening are probably very close to none. But they've gotta be better than the odds of that chick on that show finding her true love with lots of cameras and (I guess) millions of Americans watching. Anyway, this is probably just an exercise in futility and sports-talk radio-fueled inanity. But color me intrigued.

Here's the shocking part: I wouldn't be opposed to Barry playing for the Red Sox. Now look, before you threaten to send me to the gulags of the People's Republic of Massachusetts (that would be Maine), hear me out. Or don't. I probably won't make much of a convincing argument. And I'm already on notice here after my bad-mouthing the Golden Kennedys last week. Really, I've only got one thing to back up my stance.

Barry Bonds is still really, really good at hitting baseballs. That's it. But what more do you need? It's not as if Big Papi does anything else well. Besides give Manny elaborate, 15-step handshakes, and generally act like a big teddy bear. But he can't run, field, or throw. He hits. That's it. And that's all we would need Bonds to do. And he did it very well last year.

Bonds is 43 years old. But last year he played 126 games in the NL, where he had to play Left Field because they don't have the DH. And he still played good baseball. I don't want to throw a lot of numbers at you... but I'm gonna. There's no other way to show baseball hitting prowess. So anyway, here's what Bonds did last year, in 126 games.

HRs: 28 (that's one every 12 at-bats)
Walks: 132
Avg: .276
OBP: .480 (good enough to LEAD THE MAJORS again)
OPS+: 170 (!!) if you don't know what that is, ask. I'll explain. But basically, 170 is VERY VERY good. Like, Hall of Fame good.

The Sox only have 100 games left this year. And Bonds old-man body wouldn't be strained by playing in the field every day. And it wouldn't be a lot of games to play. But he would definitely help the Red Sox score more runs than they would without him. I'm just saying.

The Last Post About An Ex-Girlfriend

2008-06-01T14:40:00.002-04:00

And you thought I was done with the last one. I'm just blowing out all the stuff I wrote about this. Two posts in a day! (I wrote this a month and a half ago.)

I only briefly mentioned my dream the other night that jump-started my thoughts about my ex-girlfriend. In fact, it was a pretty interesting dream. But not so much because lots of strange things happened, which usually make dreams so intriguing. There was another element to my dream that was more interesting, and thought-provoking.

My dream was plenty strange. I was visiting my friend Sam in Vermont, a few hours away from Boston. I was aware that at the bottom of the hill from his house, A. and her fiancee were living in another house. This of course is very weird, but not unusual for a dream.

During the course of the dream, I hung around Sam's house, while A. and her fiancee were ignorant of both my presence and the fact that they were living so close to a friend of mine. Finally, they somehow discovered both things, and her fiancee came to confront me. I recall staying inside the house, while he knocked at the door, and asked things like if I had been hiding there, spying on them "all year". My response was laughter, mostly because I had not, but also because he was so desperately trying to determine my state of mind, and if I had had any contact with A.

This brings me to the most intriguing part of my dream: my emotions and feelings during the whole thing. While some weird things happened in my dream, I've given you the entirety of what I can remember. Overall, not incredibly strange for a dream. What really struck me were the powerful emotions I experienced during the dream. Throughout the entire thing, I had an overwhelming sense of satisfaction and happiness. I was startingly aware that A. and her fiancee were not happy. I was happy that I was so unconcerned and emotionless regarding her, and had no knowledge that she had been living so close to one of my friends, and that I simply did not care. It was a breakthrough. After having spent months and months in a rather sickening depression because of our break-up, I realized I had come out the other side of it in much better shape. I realized how great being single has been; how much I had learned about myself, about my relationships with women, my relationship with her, and how it was bound to go wrong.

When A.'s fiancee came to confront me, I was struck with the sense that this was because he was insecure with his relationship with her. He was not sure himself if she had had contact with me; if she might have been communicating with me; if she missed me. The latter is what struck me the most. I sensed that he was afraid that she was not completely over me, for her part. While I had moved on, he was concerned that she had not taken the time by herself to have completely dealt with her unresolved feelings toward me.

I probably experienced too much schadenfreude because of his feelings of insecurity and worry, and overriding unhappiness with their relationship. But what can I say, I'm not in control of my dreams and how they make me feel. But I enjoyed the hell outta that feeling.

About that time, I woke up. And this has set me to confronting this relationship this week. I have probably thought of A. more this week than I had in the prevous 6 months combined. It comes in waves I guess. But I feel like this has been a cleansing. I've made my peace with things.

The Last Part of the Woman Story

2008-06-01T14:28:00.003-04:00

I promise. I'm sure you're all gone anyway.

When last we left the story, A. and I had nearly reached our end. We had not spoken for 2 days. Finally, since that was very strange, I called her. I left a message saying that I missed her and would love to talk and smooth things out. Then I went out to a bar with some friends.
She called me a couple hours later. I said I could come over to talk to her after another couple of hours with my friends. This was not satisfactory, as she was meeting her friends later. I said we would talk the next day, hung up and turned to my friend and said: "I think A.'s gonna break up with me." However, I was unconcerned. I had no idea what awaited me. We had been through these little breaks before. I figured this one too would pass.

The next morning, A. called me. She ended an 8-year relationship over the phone. I remember saying, "Great, 3 days before my birthday." I still did not feel bad. We agreed to meet later that evening to exchange somethings, and really end it in person. I spoke with a good friend that afternoon and told him that I really was OK with the whole thing, and I was. He knew better, and told me it hadn't hit me yet. He is a smart man.

That night A. sent me a text backing out of our meeting. Again, I thought nothing of it. I left for a guys trip to Las Vegas the next morning. I was gone for 4 days. I experienced a few pangs of missing A. during the trip, but for the most part, I had a great time. Upon my return, I discovered that A. had stopped by to drop off things of mine that had been at her place. The finality of our split started to hit me. Over the next couple weeks, I began missing A. I also began hearing things that made me suspect that another guy was in the picture.

Finally, on Christmas Eve, about 3 weeks after our relationship ended, we met up. It was bittersweet, as we recalled all the previous Christmases we had spent together. It was also on this night that A. admitted that she had indeed struck up a friendship with another guy. At the end of the night, we kissed goodbye and told each other that we would always love one another. If only we knew how we would screw that up.

The next several weeks were messy. Neither of us could simply let the other go. We foolishly saw each other several more times. Bad things happened. Bad words were said. Feelings were hurt. If you want the gruesome details, I can give them. But those are probably best left to the past. Eventually, by the end of February, we forced ourselves to try to break contact. For me, it went in stages. First, I went 3 days without communication. Then I broke down. The next time, I went a week. Then 2 or 3 weeks. Then 6 weeks.

Like the hellish weekend I had spent almost exactly a year earlier, this extended period of heartbreak and loneliness was simply a drawn-out sense of that experience. I tried to force myself to focus on my work. Luckily, while I was at work, I was able to do it well. It helped. It was about the only thing that helped. When I was not forcing myself to focus on what I had to do for work, my thoughts inevitably ran to A. I literally could not think of anything else. It was unlike anything I've ever experienced. No matter what I did, my thoughts came back to her.

It's been said that men think about sex 1 in every 5 minutes, on average. For me, 3 of the other 4 minutes were spent thinking of A. It was horrible. I tried everything I could think of to simply get her out of my head. I didn't want to think about her. I didn't want to be bitter. I didn't want to be depressed. I didn't want to face the perpetual temptation to call her; to see her; to do whatever I could to find out what she was doing. But these things would not leave me alone. I went a little crazy. I was shocked at what rejected love could do to a person.

I consider myself a happy person. I have my troughs, like everyone. Strikes and gutters. This time, I was in a rut in which seemingly nothing could pull me out. After a couple months, I decided to do something drastic. I made up my mind to leave town. I would move to Boston -- I'd always wanted to live there anyway. I decided to look at this as an opportunity. A change of scenery could only do me good.

I believe this was a good idea. It has not been easy, and the move did not completely rid me of my feelings, and pull me out of my state, but it undoubtedly helped. Ultimately, only time is the best salvo for heartbreak. I've wondered if I will ever completely and thoroughly resolve what happened. But I do believe that I've made peace with it. And I've started to establish a life for myself here. I've had new experiences with women. I've learned things about myself I never thought possible. I've reached the point where I can commit myself to another woman.

Ted Kennedy Has a Brain Tumah

2008-05-22T17:49:00.003-04:00

It seems my inspiration to write comes and goes, waxes and wanes, yins and yangs. I suspect this is pretty normal for others, too. It also appears that right now, I am riding a crest of inspiration. Enjoy it while it lasts. You never know when this blog might go dark for another 2 weeks.

If you haven't heard already, Massachusetts US Senator Edward Kennedy (Democrat -- as if you didn't know all this already) has been diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor, and if you believe the Washington Post (I think) he has only 6 months to live. Other sources give him a bit longer.

I do not wish brain cancer on anyone, and I certainly feel bad for his family.

But man am I sick of hearing about this man and his extended family. And I, for one, will not miss him.

I have never understood the American, and especially New Englander, obsession with the Kennedy clan. I see 2 problems with the Massachusetts public and their inexcusable support of Tedward Kennedy in the US Senate since 1962.

The first is part of a larger problem that is probably an ineradicable part of human nature: the need for celebrities to watch, and the attraction to notorious personalities. The Kennedy family, certainly, has had more than their share of these magnetic personalities, beginning with the patriarch: whatshisname (I'm too lazy to look it up, and I don't really care that much). Obviously, JFK has captured American's fascination since before his election to President in 1960. He was young, handsome, slick, invigorating. He came along at the right time to help the civil rights cause, spur on the Cold War space race, and give Americans an alternative to cranky, bad-on-TV Richard Nixon. Then JFK was killed in dramatic, conspiracy theory-inducing fashion at a too-young age.

RFK was much the same. He, too, was struck down by an assassin as a young man. The young deaths of these men has only added to their legends.

But why are the rest of the Kennedys so famous? Why are they referred to as "American royalty"? Why do we care when one of them kills himself playing a stupid game of ski football? Wouldn't we berate a family member of our own if they engaged in such stupidly dangerous behavior? Why do we insist on following the exploits of this family in their elitist, Cape Cod compound playground? Isn't that what Americans hate? Elitism? Aristocracy? (Not that such hatred is necessarily a good thing.)

The second thing that bothers me is perhaps more disturbing: Massachusetts' voters selective blindness and dumb following of such a horrendous Senator. This man has one of the most liberal, stupid, foolish voting records in the history of the US Senate. Yet he is overwhelmingly re-elected time after time. It's like there is something in the water in Massachusetts that forces residents into believing that this man is good.

I once asked a couple friends here why everyone loved him. They replied with some vague answers about how he really has made a difference in improving the welfare of children. That's it? The guy has thrown money at some orphans? He supports fiscally irresponsible social welfare programs? That's how you become popular: support the little guy, the guy with "no voice."

Yet how many Massachusetts residents would believe you if you told them he voted against putting a giant wind-farm off of Nantucket (or was it Martha's Vineyard?) which could have potentially provided clean energy for much of the entire state? I can only assume he voted gainst such a thing because it would have uglied up his rich friends' ocean-view. Is that looking out for the little guy?

Anyway, I'm probably just blowing off some steam here, because I'm so disgusted at the arrogance of Massachusetts residence. They seem to think they've worked out how to solve their problems, yet it is startingly obvious that it is a horribly managed state. The roads are in terrible shape, the Big Dig in Boston is monstrously late and over budget, bridges not more than 15 years old are crumbling, social programs are bankrupt... and these are just the plainly obvious problems. What a joke.

I can hardly wait for the next generation Kennedy to take his rightful seat in the US Senate.

My Life With Women, Part 4

2008-05-21T17:53:00.002-04:00

I know you've been waiting patiently -- or not -- for the end of the story of my failed past love. Hopefully there's more than one person still reading, since I only write onabout every 2 weeks. Anyway, here's Part 4. We're not done yet.

A great man once pondered, "I wonder why stories of degradation and humiliation make you more popular." Alright, that "great man" is named Homer. But I think he raises a good point. I trust you have found my own story of heartbreak, love, misery and hope compelling. It certainly was interesting living it. I think perhaps we can all relate to the decidedly most human story of love and loss. Or maybe we just like hearing about other people's sorrow. Like that same great man said later, "It's funny 'cause I don't know him."

When last we left our story, A. and I were living close to each other in Richmond. Life was good. We were happy to be comfortable with each other again. But some resentments were lingering. The disease that finally proved fatal for us was festering, benign for now, inside both of us. For her, it was resentment at the way I had treated her during the last couple break-ups, and a self-doubt in her own strength after taking me back following yet another heartbreak. For me, it was the male resentment of a female who had kept him from enjoying his young, single, carefree days when he could have been out chasing other girls. Events conspired that finally brought these resentments to the surface.

Sometime in late summer, I met another girl. We flirted, I got her number, and we actually met up a couple times -- if I'm honest with myself, these were dates. I even had her come to my place once, but nothing happened. In a fatal move on my part, I foolishly took down and hid the pictures of A. in my bedroom before my new friend showed up. I then forgot to put them back up.

The next time A. came over, she found the photos taken down and was understandably upset. I tried to explain away my transgression, saying that I had innocently taken them down just to see what it was like. I pleaded that it meant nothing, and that I had simply forgotten to put them back up, and that she should forget it. Hey, I never claimed to be smart. Oh wait, I guess I did at the top of this blog. But surely you understand sarcasm.

Anyway, A. was able to move on, but clearly doubts were rising in her mind. She slowly grew distant, and became combative. We had hardly ever fought during the entirety of our relationship. I can only remember a couple times when we actually raised our voices at each other in anger or frustration. In retrospect, this was probably not a good thing. But by this time, her doubts were driving her to confront me any time they bubbled to the surface. She began withdrawing to spend more time with her friends. I didn't think much of these things. With the gift of hindsight,the signs were staring me in the face -- and I stupidly did not see them. I had no clue about women. (That seems to be a recurring theme, no?)

Sometime in October or November, she was out with her friends one night, and met an older guy. They apparently struck up an easy friendship. A couple weeks later, they ran into each other again at the same place, and again felt an attraction. At that point, they began communicating by phone.

I was completely ignorant of this budding relationship. During this time, I somehow managed to put away the pictures of her once more, and once more, was caught with them hidden. This time, she broke down. I was unaware of it for another couple weeks, but this was pretty much the nail in our coffin. Again, I'm kind of an idiot.

Finally, in the first week of December, she went out with her friends on a Saturday night. I had not seen her in a couple days, so I asked if I could come along. This was nothing unusual, and I remember being struck that she was unusually forceful in saying that she wanted it to just be a girl's night. Usually she was accepting of me joining her and her friends when they went out. But we were also respective of each other's night with our respective friends. So I didn't think much of it. I met up with my friends.

By the next morning, however, I missed her. I decided to get up and go over to her place and surprise her by either cooking brunch for her, or taking her out for brunch. By the time I got there, however, she had already eaten.

Something seemed off. She picked a fight with me over something that seemed rather insignificant. I tried standing up for myself, but it only got worse. She blew the problem out of proportion, even embarassing me in front of her roommate. I did not take kindly to this, and walked out of her apartment. I had a few things of hers in my car, and I brought them back in her apartment, without saying a word. She said nothing, but watched me as I walked out again. I had no clue that was the end of us. We had had this type of spat before. I figured it would blow over in a few hours or a day at most, like it had in the past. I was wrong.

We did not speak for another 2 full days. This was highly unusual.

No-Hitters and Celtics Playoffs

2008-05-20T19:57:00.004-04:00

Perhaps that should just be a singular "No Hitter" in the title, but I liked the pseudo-poetic feel of the plurality.

Somehow I missed Jon Lester's no-hitter last night (don't ask) for the Red Sox. My favorite sportswriter (and possibly the best writer of any type) Joe Posnanski was in town to cover the game for the Kansas City Star, and so we are lucky enough to read not one but two of his stories about the no-no. If you haven't read this guy yet, check out his blog-post about the game. The guy is a master of the written word. You won't be disappointed.

And if you've heard about how cold and windy it was at Fenway last night, believe it. Only in Boston can a late May evening be considered cold and blustery. It was downright chilly last night. I can only imagine that by the end of the game, the Park felt like it does on recent October nights.

Of course you've also probably heard the praise, adulation, congratulations, and good feelings generated because of what Jon Lester has gone through in the past couple years. This cliche is often thrown around carelessly, but it really is pretty inspiring that it could not have happened for a better young man.

In other matters of Boston sports, the Celtics begin their Eastern Conference Finals best of 7 game series with the Detroit Pistons tonight at the Garden. Damn it feels good to write that. It's been a long time since the Celtics have been this good. The Pistons are playing in their 6th straight Eastern Finals, and come to town owning the 2nd best regular season record in the NBA. The team with best record? The Celtics. This promises to be a physical, hard-fought, drawn-out series.

I'm perhaps more excited for this Celtics playoff run than I am about the Red Sox continued dominance of the AL East (despite those pesky Tampa Bay Rays). I'm fully aware that the NBA has dropped down the popularity foodchain of professional sports lately, but it really is exciting watching this team.

And out West, the Lakers play the Spurs in the Western Conference Finals. Imagine the ratings a Celtics-Lakers series would get. It calls to mind the great battles of years gone by: the '60s with Bill Russell consistently beating Wilt Chamberlain, the '70s when the Lakers finally broke through for a couple titles of their own behind Jerry West (the NBA logo), the '80s as the rivalry continued in heated fashion between Larry Legend and Magic, and the fading of the Celtics dynasty throughout the '90s and '00s, while the Lakers captured 3 more titles several years ago. Kobe and cast against the Celtics' Boston Three Party would make great drama.

Let's hope it happens...

My Life With Women, Part 3

2008-05-04T15:31:00.003-04:00

I hope this story is coherent, since I wrote it pretty much all at the same time in a free flow, and have since broken it up into these separate posts. If it is confusing, let me know. I've also been told that it reads a little too much like a factual, emotionless "newspaper story." I think as the tale nears its end, I have included more feelings and emotions. And my conclusion (also already written) definitely focuses on my emotions about the whole thing. I'd love to hear more feedback. So now, without further ado, Part 3:

I returned home for Christmas break and got a letter from grad school saying that I was finished there, since I had failed all of my classes in the fall. I neglected to tell my parents, and went back to my school apartment in January. A. came to see me shortly after New Year's, and right before she left for home, I broke up with her. She was completely devastated. We had been doing pretty well. She was completely in love with me. Most distressing to her was my statement "I don't see myself marrying you." She had believed that while we may have been headed for some kind of break, there would always be a chance at an eventual reconciliation, but this statement seemingly ended any chance at oureventually ending up together.

She left my house in tears. I don't know how or why, but I felt nothing. It was reflective of that time in my life. I felt numb. I was lost. I had no purpose. I had no job, had flunked out of school, and was completely void of any motivation to leave my bedroom. I spent my days watching TV, listening to music, and surfing the internet. I spent my nights getting drunk. It was one of the lowest points of my life. It was just as hard for A. She later told me that she cried for days.

Finally, after a couple weeks, she pulled herself together and began to accept life without me. She began moving on. She is a strong-willed woman, so when she finally opted to decide that she was better off without me, she reacted positively. She forced herself to try to improve hersituation.

Meanwhile, I was mired in one of the worst depressions of my life. I had isolated friends, including a guy who had been my roommate for 4 years. He had moved to NYC, and we'd quickly grown apart. In hindsight, we were simply different people. He was kind of an a-hole, and I didn't appreciate it. I also did not like the fact that he had become close friends with A. Our last year living together, it really began to bother me, especially after he made what were clearly inappropriate comments about her. I once told both of them that I did not want them to continue their friendship, but they pretty much ignored me. Regardless of the reasons, I did not like their friendship. It all came to a head a few weeks after I broke up withA.

Again after a few weeks, I began missing her again. On Valentine's Day, I missed her horribly, but for some reason, convinced myself to be strong, and didn't call her. I later regretted that decision, since she told me that she was dying to talk to me on that night too. A few days later, I broke down and called her. I drove to Richmond and we went out to dinner. I had convinced myself that I wanted to get back together again. I told her this, she was of course reluctant to believe me, and I went back to myschool apartment. The next time we talked, I had changed my mind again. I told her I did not want to get back together, and she was again let down after getting her hopes up. It was not a nice thing for me to do, and only contributed to her setting her mind that she wouldn't fall for me again.

But, oh, I wasn't done.

I discovered a couple weeks later that she was planning a trip to NYC with a friend. I could only assume that she would be visiting my old roommate. I called him 2 or 3 days before the weekend she was to visit. I had not spoken to him for a few weeks, and our friendship was clearly crumbling, but it was not completely over yet. I left him a voicemail without indicating anything about her impending visit, just saying I was calling to say whats up and check in since we hadn't spoken in a while. I didn't hear back from him.

That weekend marks probably the worst I have ever felt as a human being. I was making myself physically ill worrying about what was happening. I attempted to reach my old roommate multiple times, and even tried calling his current NYC roommate, who had actually been our 3rd roommate for a couple years in school. Again, my calls and voicemails went completely unanswered. I felt horribly betrayed. I felt disgusted. I tried feverishly to find out anything I could, even talking to one of A.'s roommates, in an effort to discover if she knew anything about thesituation. I did not know what to do.

Luckily, an old friend from high school, whom I hadn't seen in years, came for a visit that weekend. She knew A. from around the time we first got together, so she understood what kind of situation I was in. Fortunately, she helped get me out of the house that weekend, and tried to force me to have fun. I've since told her that I think she may have saved my life that weekend. Literally. There is no telling just how despondent I could have gotten without someone there, distracting me from my self-pity, -loathing, and the horrible, paralyzing thoughts running through my head. I remain ever grateful to my friend, and I hope she knows it.

By the time Sunday night rolled around, and I was again left alone, I was in rough shape. I tossed and turned in bed for hours, unable to sleep. Finally, in the wee hours of the morning, I broke down and called A. Of course, she did not answer, and I left a voicemail. I finally spoke to her the next night, which was also when my friend in NYC finally called me back. Both of them were upset at me for "disrupting" their weekend and so forth. I was pretty pissed at my friend for simply ignoring me, when it was pretty clear that I was obviously concerned about what was going on. To this day, I remain convinced that any friend worth his salt would not ignore his friend and treat him the way I was treated.

By now I was convinced that I wanted to get back together with A. I moved back to Richmond, and started working. It took weeks for her to get over what had happened, and finally sometime in April or May she took me back. Meanwhile, I had ended my friendship with my old roommate in NYC, and asked him to respect my wishes that he not have any contact with A.

For a few months, A. and I enjoyed living only a few minutes away from each other, down the same historic street in Richmond. We even lived together for a month or two while she was between apartments. Everything seemed perfect. I really enjoyed being so close to her, and spending a lot of time with her. I was pleased with my decision to fix things. She also seemed happy to have her boyfriend at her beck and call. Life was good again.

But you know how this ends.

Next, Part 4...

May Day

2008-05-01T19:29:00.004-04:00

Well, I'm still on the job search, and yesterday I started a new temp gig. The commute is terrible, the money's no better, and I loathe myself for working in an office park. The job is at a commercial real estate brokerage company. Basically, they lease out strip mall space.

I detest strip malls. It's not secret that I'm rather conservative, and part of being conservative is believing in a certain measure of "conservation." I am vehemently opposed to the unchecked urban sprawl that eats away not only at America's natural beauty, but also has untold and underappreciated negative effects on our economy and society.

I am no hippie. But I hate the suburbinization of America, and I don't like working for a company that derives its income solely from exploiting this process.

What's the point to this rant? I don't really have one. But I do believe that I've reached a conclusion as to what I should be doing with my genius, and it's something meaningful: teaching.

LOST Promos

2008-04-29T10:58:00.003-04:00

Alright, I noticed this a while ago, and it's been bothering me. For you LOST fans out there, help me out. I'm probably really behind on this little nugget, but I've noticed that during LOST promos on TV, when they show the island, there's a reflection in the water... only the reflection does not match the island. Instead, the reflection looks like a city skyline full of skyscrapers and buildings.

Has anyone else noticed this? Is this old news? I'm not quite sure what it means, but it definitely seems intriguing.

My Life With Women, Part 2

2008-04-27T14:38:00.002-04:00

By the spring of 2003, A. and I had been together for over 5 years. With a couple breaks here and there (almost all initiated by her), we'd made it through all 4 of my college years. Looking back, that's quite an accomplishment for a couple that started in their mid-teens. Clearly, we cared for each other a lot. We knew each other better than anyone else did.

I had not strayed from A., unless you count the 2 or 3 girls I had kissed during those 4 college years. To my knowledge, she had not strayed from me either, including that horrible summer when she hung out with that older guy who was clearly in love with her. This innocence was important to me. I loved the fact that she had only ever been with me. I wanted my wife to be like that.

Wait a minute, wife?? This thought hit me like a sledgehammer in the summer after I graduated. I was still living in my collegetown, 2 hours from A., and planning on staying there for graduate school in the fall. I was not prepared to deal with the thought that I was now a college grad, and should appropriately begin thinking about the fact that I had a girlfriend of 5+ years whom I should probably seriously consider making my wife. This was a monstrous possibility. Rather than deal with it, I pushed it (and A.) aside.

After going home for her birthday in June, I broke up with A. and returnedt o my college town. I reveled in my newfound freedom for the first couple weeks. I barely thought of her, and wondered at the majesty that was not having to call her every night, or worry about what might happen if I kissed another girl. Then I cracked. Before I left for a 2-week trip to England, I returned home and met A. I recanted my decision and told her that I wanted to get back together. But she too had tasted freedom. Understandably, she was reluctant to re-commit to me. She admitted that a co-worker had asked her out a day or two before I had broke up with her, so I was petrified of her hooking up with someone else. Given a verbal promise that she wouldn't do anything rash, I left for my trip the next day.

While in England, I found a new affirmation oh my feelings for A. I became convinced that I wanted to get back together. I remember the last night in a hotel by the airport being one of the worst nights of my life to that point. I made myself sick thinking about A. and not being able to talk to her. I discovered by calling her Mom that she had just gotten a cell phone, so I tried calling that, but got voicemail. I left her a message which must have been pathetic, giving her the overseas number of my hotelroom, but she didn't want to risk a ridiculously expensive overseas call, since she was unsure what the rates would be. I returned to my college town and immediately set to work talking to her about getting back together. But she seemed even more distant.

One afternoon, I called her and we began another serious talk about our relationship. I had had a horribly disturbing feeling all morning. I knew something was wrong. She seemed unusually reluctant to talk about us. I finally pulled it out of her: she had indeed hooked up with another guy while I was in England. I was horrified. I felt physically ill. Suddenly my conviction that I was in love with A. was tested. I hung up completely devastated. For the next couple days, I was shell-shocked. I was not myself. I was not happy, cheery, smiling, fun -- I was not who I am, and who I like being.

A day after this bombshell, A. and I talked again. I told her how devastated I was. Working from pure emotion (rather than the logical, calculating, thinking place where I live the rest of my life), I told her that I "can't talk to you right now." It was true. I simply lacked the ability to talk to her rationally. I could not accept the factt hat she had willingly been with another guy. I said as much to her friend who called me in the next couple days to tell me how distraught A. now was at my refusal to talk to her.

This may seem like a bit of an over-reaction for a college-aged guy, but like I said, a large part of my attraction to A. was based on the fact that she had not been with anyone else.
After a couple of weeks, I went to see her. I was still upset by what had happened, and even though she was now ready to get back together, I was not. This lasted a couple more weeks. Finally, I accepted (or pretended to accept) what had happened -- after all, I was probably deserving of some of the blame since I had broken up with her for selfish reasons. The rest of that school year went pretty smoothly. In fact, I remember it as one of the best times in our relationship, as she had moved into her own apartment in Richmond, and we were able to visit and see each other pretty often. I was able to put off thoughts of any kind of serious relationship because she agreed that she was too young and not ready for marriage either, especially since she still had a couple years of school left.

I went on a month-long trip across Europe in the summer of 2004 with my best friend Chris. There were times on this trip, when I thought of my strong feelings for A. I was again struck with the thought that we had reached the point where I should (to use that colorful phrase) "crap or get off the pot." I chose instead to keep sitting there. It was easier. We returned to our arrangement of me pursuing my Master's and her in Richmond 2 hours away, pursuing her BA, in the fall of 2004. But something was beginning to fester. I became increasingly restless. I was facing more temptation from other girls than I ever had before.

I was able to resist one, and then 2, other girls. Finally, in October, I cracked. I began seeing another girl at school for a few weeks. This was an incredibly tumultuous fall semester for me. I was completely burned out on school. I was living with young undergrads, while I was maturing and living a different lifestyle. At one point in October, I broke up with A. on the phone, but it lacked conviction. We agreed to meet in person the next day halfway between our respective cities. When we saw each other, our feelings were reaffirmed, and the breakup was quickly forgotten. Itwas strange. The Red Sox won the World Series, and A. came to see me the night they won. It should have been one of the best times of my life. Instead, I was floundering. I was completely unmotivated, and finally stopped doing any schoolwork altogether. I was still seeing the other girl at school, who asked me in December if I wanted to make any kind of formal commitment to her. Since she was unaware of my long-term girlfriend, this was completely understandable. It should also be understandable that I was reluctant to give her any kind of commitment. I had no commitment to give. Iwas not committed to anything.

Next, part 3...

The Average American Male: A Review

2008-04-22T19:53:00.005-04:00

I had the opportunity to fly through this book this weekend in a few hours. It's about 250 pages, but a very quick read.

If you haven't heard of it, "The Average American Male" was supported by a successful viral marketing campaign on YouTube last year. There were three short videos, all about a minute long, which supposedly illustrate what guys are REALLY thinking concerning women. You can find video #1 here, #2 here, and #3 here . I must warn you, however, that they are all pretty filthy. In fact, if you're female or easily offended, you're better off just watching the first one, and that should be more than enough to give you the idea of what they contain.

The book is not any better. It's beyond vile. Written from the first-person perspective of a 25-year-old guy living in LA, the book focuses primarily on his relationships with women (something seem familiar here... hmm... not coming to mind). As the book opens, we meet his regular girlfriend who he's been dating for over a year. The main character is clearly not completely satisified with their relationship, but rather than expressing this -- and following its logical conclusion to ending the relationship outright, he simply keeps telling her he loves her. Why, you might ask? Sex.

That's right. All this guy thinks about is sex. Almost literally. He occasionally plays video games, and I guess goes to work (his job is never mentioned), but 90% of the book focuses on women, interactions with women, sex with women, or his gay friend's discussions of gay sex. His gay friend I guess is intended to give the homosexual 20-something single guy equal time with the heterosexual protagonist. I found their explicit discussions disgusting and completely extraneous.

Spoiler alert: I'm assuming you probably won't want to read this book after my review, but in case you do, be aware that the next few paragraphs will reveal what happens. Not that it's all that interesting anyway.

The protagonist ends up suckered into an engagement to his girlfriend without giving her a ring. His girlfriend, blatantly pressured by her mother, is either too stupid or too desperate to realize that he does not want to marry her. He does not give her a ring, and somehow, despite meeting her parents twice, this does not come up.

Finally, while having breakfast with his girlfriend and her mother, he blurts out his objections to their marriage, and dumps her outright. While driving them home, his blubbering girlfriend attempts to discover his feelings. He himself is surprised, but not upset, to find out that he is completely devoid of any. Literally. He feels neither love, nor sympathy, nor even the slightest bit of anything positive toward her. In fact, he takes a perverse pleasure in her heartbreak, and especially her mother's disappointment.

Meanwhile, he's begun dating a college senior who he finds much more attractive (to put it in much milder terms than he does) than his ex-girlfriend. He is happily surprised to find that she loves sex as much as he does; even enjoys playing video games and does not force him to spend 3 hours at Pottery Barn looking at couches like his ex. He quickly falls in love -- or at least the closest thing to love that such an obvious sociopath can experience.

His ex attempts to lure him back with a fake pregnancy, and he takes the opportunity to further twist the stake into her -- and her mother's again -- heart during a dramatic scene in which he exposes her lie. He continues to date the younger woman, and after another year-plus in which their initial passion cools off, here is the one thing he has learned by the end of the book: all women eventually turn into the same boring, sexually-cold, uninspiring person. After this realization, and resigning himself to his fate, he asks her to marry him.

I'm unsure whether this book is a satire of the way the feminist movement has portrayed men as shallow, sex-obsessed, uncommunicative, unmotivated, single-minded near-apes. If it is, it's astoundingly perceptive. I would have said brilliant, but if that was indeed the goal, it could have been accomplished more thoroughly and effectively.

If it is instead intended as a chronicle of the inner thoughts of the titular average american male, it it nothing short of revealing one of the most depressing and frightening cracks in the foundation of Western Civilization -- I'm not kidding.

I will hope that the author's intent was somewhere closer to the former. The characters are so two-dimensional that they're almost unbelievable as anything but satire. There simply cannot be a 25-year-old woman so blind to her boyfriend's feelings, or lack thereof. The mother is so jarringly heavy-handed, stupid, and single-mindedly obsessed with family that she can only be seen as a caricature. We all know the jokes about mothers who constantly badger their children about when they will settle down, get married and have a family. This character is every bad joke about mother-in-laws you've ever heard.

The main character is everything a girl would hate in her boyfriend or husband. He seems completely unmotivated: the most we hear about how he supports himself is that he does "nothing important", and he shows no signs of wanting anything more. He is completely uncommunicative: it is no exaggeration to say that upwards of 90% of his statements to his girlfriends consist of less than 5 words, and probably 3 or less. He apparently believes "I don't know" is an acceptable answer to nearly every question, and again shows no motivation to put in the thought or effort to provide any more explication in response to their questions.

In addition, he makes no effort to improve himself, other than going to the gym. He apparently reads nothing but Penthouse. He never thinks of anything other than woman and sex. There is no mention of anything meaningful; no attempt to follow current events, no thoughts about politics, sports, philosophy, religion, art, nothing. The closest this guy gets to an incisive thought is when he is surprised to learn that his buddy has independently thought of the same nickname for a disfigured woman as he has.

What is most disturbing is that I recognize some of this sociopath in myself and men my own age. It is certainly tempting for young, single guys to focus on one thing -- we all know what that is. It is tempting for us to ignore the important, meaningful things in life: deep thought; improving our own intellect; working toward an achievement whether it is career goals, or something else significant; improving the world around us... something. We can spend our lives entertaining ourselves with any number of things that are ultimately meaningless: video games, internet inanities, television, movies, on and on. Sports should probably belong in that list since we've reached the point where I've heard more about the NFL Draft in the last several weeks than I could ever cram into my brain (and this despite changing the channel everytime I hear the letters "NFL"). But sports -- in moderation -- can provide some things more elevated: an outlet for combative human impulses, role models to admire, and a common language across cultures and generations.

Hopefully this book has a loftier goal than a few cheap crude laughs (I did, despite the vulgarity, find a few insightful moments). It may be redeemed if it is indeed seen as a kind of warning to young men and a sarcastic swipe at reductive feminist arguments. While it is crassly done, and far from what could have been accomplished in the hands of a master, perhaps it is shocking enough to wake us up to the fact that many men and women think and act like the characters in this book, and something needs to change.

I might be skeptical about human nature, but I cannot believe that people are as irredeemable as this author's creations.

The Patriot's Day Report

2008-04-21T22:44:00.004-04:00

A good day here in Boston. The weather was beautiful, the Sox won, the Marathoners were running and the Bruins... well... the Bruins played game 7 against the Canadiens tonight. All in all, it was a pretty fantastic 3-day weekend too.

On Saturday, I was lucky enough to pay $75 for a ticket to the Sox game, which turned out to be amazing. With the Sox down 3-2 for most of the game, the crowd was quiet. The Bruins were playing at the Garden that night, and came back in the 3rd period to win that game. When word came to Fenway of the victory during the 8th inning (inspiring a very rousing version of "Sweet Caroline"), the Park came alive. And suddenly, so did the Sox bats.

Ortiz tied the game with a single, knocking in Pedroia. Manny then blew it open with the most monstrous Home Run I've ever seen live. The ball was still on its way up when it hit halfway up one of the light towers over the Monster. If not for the large metal object in its way, it was destined for a windshield of a passing car on the Mass Turnpike. For those of you who don't know, that's roughly 500+ feet from home plate in Fenway Park. I'm not exaggerating.

Papelbon came on in the 9th, and my Fenway Park undefeated record remained intact. The Sox are now a perfect 8-0 when I'm in attendance. (Can you hear me knocking wood?)

In celebration of New England colonials turning back the British regular Army at Concord and Lexington some 200+ years ago, Massachusetts celebrated its own unique holiday today. The 112th Boston Marathon was glorious, and I'm happy to report that my brother and cousin completed it without incident, along with tens of thousands of others, including Lance Armstrong.

Boston was an exciting, vibrant place to be today, and I'm glad I got to enjoy it. Bumping into friends, catching up with family, enjoying a beautiful day in town... all in all, a magnificent weekend.

And now... back to work.

I'm refining Part 2 of "My Life With Women", which should probably be called "My Life With WomAn" since it focuses on only one ex-girlfriend. Maybe I'll continue it with others. You'll just have to wait and see.

My Life With Women

2008-04-15T17:35:00.002-04:00

Ah yes, the subject we've all been waiting for. Women. Love. Men. Love. Heartbreak. Love. New love. And so forth. I had a vivid dream last night about my ex girlfriend. It got me thinking. Here now is the story of that failed love.

It is my theory that almost all of us go through heartbreak at some point in our lives. It may not be because of a lover, necessarily. We've all had someone die whom we loved. Or lost a friend. But the great heartbreak that has defined my experience of the last couple of years was from a
lover. If you have not experienced that kind of heartbreak, you are lucky indeed.

So we all experience heartbreak. And we learn from it. We may get hurt again. Unfortunately for me, I had my heart broken multiple times by the same girl. Mostly because... I'm an idiot. But I believe I've finally learned from it.

It began in high school, shortly after my 17th birthday my junior year. A. was the pretty friend of a girl at our church. She was about a year and a half younger than me. I had absolutely no confidence with girls, and less game. But for some reason, she liked me. I jumped on it. We hung out a few times at youth group functions. Finally, on the night of my father's first election to the VA General Assembly, I invited her to the victory party. I asked her to be my girlfriend and she said yes.

We dated for about 7 months, quickly falling in horrible, wonderful, teenaged love. I was smitten. I was in deep smit.* That summer she left for a month to spend some time in California with her friend, who was moving to Washington. They were very close, like sisters. Upon her return in August, she was devastated from losing her friend. I tried to step into the void, but she rejected me for some reason. We broke up in the middle of August. I was distraught.

*With apologies to Mike Myers.

But the first half of my senior year of high school helped me recover. I enjoyed the fame and respect being a senior brought at my little, rural school. I bloomed socially, and had a great time. I even dated another girl for a couple weeks. I was having a ball in the wonderful time just after the angst and rebellion of the mid-teenage years, and before the responsibilities of going off to college, and "entering the adult world." I still thought of A. though, and I missed her. She no longer came to church functions since her friend was gone. She went to a different school, and lived in the next town, so I didn't have occasions to bump into her. This was probably helpful, as I tried to forget her. Finally, on my birthday in the second week of December, I decided to give her a call to invite her to a performance of a one-act play in which I was performing that weekend. We had not talked for probably a couple months, and it went surprisingly well. She later told me that before her phone rang, she was literally reaching for it to call me to wish me a Happy Birthday.

My spirits perked up, and she actually did come see my play. We began talking again, and it was friendly and easy. I remember hanging out with my best friend on New Year's Eve, and telling him how much I missed her. I'm sure he was sick of hearing it, since it had been months since we'd broken up. But 2 weeks later, under some pretense I've long since forgotten, I stopped by her house. She had some new pictures taken in her cheerleader uniform lying around, and I attempted to get one. We playfully wrestled as she tried to keep them from me. Eventually I ended up with my arms around her, against the wall. But without a giant neon sign telling
me to, I didn't lean in to kiss her. Ah, the insecurity of youth.

Later that night, I asked her on the phone if she would have kissed me at that point (if I had tried), and she said, "Probably." That was all I needed to hear. I don't recall exactly how, but on the 1-year anniversary of the first time I asked her out, we officially rekindled our relationship. I was overjoyed.

The rest of my senior year was great. We were back to our old ways, spending every free moment we could with each other. You know, that stupid, amazing, young love that you think can conquer anything. That summer, however, A. was upset at my leaving for college. I was only going to a state school 2 hours away, but she had read somewhere that 95% of relationships end within a few weeks of one of the partners going off to college. As it turned out, she needn't have worried. Ours was one of the 5% that survived. Mostly because I was still completely clueless and horribly inept when it came to women, but also because I cared deeply for her, we made it through the first year of the long-distance thing. Her mom bought her a small, cheap car, and she occasionally visited me. I went home as much as I cared to (probably not as much as I could have, but I felt it was important to connect socially with everyone on campus too -- in retrospect this was a good decision.)

I returned home for the summer, and things pretty much picked up where they'd left off. She still had a year of high school left, and we enjoyed being able to see each other often again. I vaguely remember a rough patch that summer -- if I'm right, it had something to do with her leaving for another month again to visit her friend in Washington. But we were back together by the time I left for school again in the fall. I moved into an off-campus apartment for sophomore year, and this made for much better visits when she came to see me. I still had no car myself, but I looked forward to her visits more than anything. I was still hopelessly out of touch with other girls, so we didn't have any serious problems that year too, though I do remember kissing another girl on a couple occasions, but it never went further than that. I never told A., as I didn't consider this a serious transgression.

Still, I was frustrated that my college years were being spent in a solid relationship with one girl, while all around me, my friends were hooking up with various girls. A resentment began to creep in, but the times I spent with A. were so good and happy, that I convinced myself it was worth it. Besides, I was basically single without her there, and was still getting no love from other girls anyway.

The second heartbreak came during the summer between my sophomore and junior years of college. I came home again, but something had changed. A. graduated high school, and was planning on going to USC (that's Southern California) in the fall. That was a long way from VA. That was a long way from the farthest West I'd ever been in my life (and still is). That summer was not fun for us. A. had caught the attention of an older guy and she and her friend (recently returned from Washington) hung out with him and his friend more than me. I recall that we officially broke up, but still hung out pretty often. Unfortunately, these times almost always ended in extreme frustration, as I was clearly still in love with her, but she had other ideas. She kept claiming that she still loved me, but she was unsure if she had the necessary strong feelings to keep our relationship going, especially given the distance we faced in the fall.

I should also explain that I knew that this older guy was clearly infatuated with her. A. argued with me when I mentioned this, claiming that they were friends, she was not attracted to him, and besides, he was probably gay. He was definitely effeminate, and I couldn't argue with her suspicions, since it was pretty clear that he was. Yet time finally proved my theory true, when she later admitted that he attempted to kiss her, to which she did not consent.

Because I'm an idiot, I foolishly thought I could keep hanging out with her, convincing her that we should be together through my commitment to simply be her friend if I couldn't be her lover. This became a recurring theme in our relationship. I put up with things I should not have, blinded by my immature commitment to the overwhelming power of storybook love.
Hey, I'm a romantic. Of course, my actions served only to keep her at a distance. The breakthrough came only when I got so fed up that I finally stood up for myself. On the phone one day, she was again hemming and hawing her way through her defense of continuing our friendship, yet putting off our romantic relationship. Finally, I said, "I've had enough. Have fun in LA." And that was it. The next day, her friend called me to tell me that A. was horribly upset by what I had said, and didn't want to leave things that way. I saw an opening for getting back together, and I jumped right in. A couple days later, we were back to the frustration. Again, I'd had enough.

I decided to jump in my car and drive to my family's summer vacation spot in upstate New York. My parents were there, and the biggest reason I had stayed in VA was A., as well as to work. However, my work was not inflexible, and A. had distressed me to the point that I was ready to drive 13 hours to get to my favorite place in the world on Lake Champlain. I said goodbye to her at about 10pm on a Sunday night, and took off pointed north.

Apparently, my leaving her like that was enough to convince her that she didn't want that feeling again. When I arrived in New York the next day, we spoke on the phone. She cried and told me she'd realized the instant I left that she was in love with me, and wanted to get back together. I
asked her why she let me leave, and why didn't call me. However, we reached the conclusion that the few days I would be gone would be good for us. I'd return shortly before she left for CA, and we would begin that trying time with our relationship strengthened. This is pretty much the
way it happened.

A. went to LA that fall, while I went back to my school. We talked on the phone nearly every night (as we had the previous two years). There was talk of me flying out for a visit, but since I was dead broke, and lazily refused to get a job, this never happened. Still, we made it through over 4 months without seeing each other. By the time semester break came, A. had decided that she didn't like her program at USC, and she would return to VA for the spring while she decided where she wanted to transfer. Of course I pushed for my school. Ultimately, she decided VCU in Richmond, which would again leave her 2 hours from me. But during the spring semester, she merely lived at home, and came to visit me as often as she could. Things were going pretty smoothly again. They would stay that way for another 2 years.

Later, part 2...

Time of Your Life

2008-04-09T21:53:00.004-04:00

I'm feeling rough, I'm feeling wrong in the time of my life,
Let's make some music, make some money, find some models for wives.
I'll move to Paris, shoot some heroin, and f--- with the stars,
You'll man the island and the cocaine and the elegant cars.

This is our decision: to live fast and die young,
We've got the vision, now let's have some fun.
Yeah, it's overwhelming, but else can we do?
Get jobs in offices and wake up for the morning commute?

-MGMT, "Time to Pretend"

So begins one of the songs I mentioned a couple weeks ago that I've been digging lately. It's got a really good groove. I find it really fun to listen to whilst driving.

I normally don't put a lot of stock in rock lyrics. For the most part, they're inane, almost meaningless, often less than poetic, and usually pointless. (Much like that completely redundant sentence.) But these two verses caught my attention recently.

Clearly, the lines are sarcastic. No one plans to become a drug addict and die young. But there is a hint of realism behind the first 6 lines, which finally unmasks itself completely in the last 2 lines. These two lines express a frustration felt by many young men: that we've not become famous, and are forced to look for plain, boring, dreary jobs.

I think there is a feeling in every man, at a deep, instinctual level, in which he wants to be wild. Not "savage", caveman wild. But cowboy wild. Or gladiator wild. Or cavalry general wild. We want to be a man like Alexander the Great was a man; like the characters John Wayne portrayed; a man who can kill someone with his bare hands, then hold a women firmly yet gently with those hands; a man who don't take no s--- from anyone. A man who can swing a bat for a living. Or play music. Or build things with his bare hands. Or guide himself using only the stars to navigate.

What we don't want to be is an assistant regional sales manager, or administrative coordinator, or audit officer. We don't want to sit in our car (or SUV if we try to make up for it that way) on our commutes to work, silently cursing our fate to be resigned to a mediocre life of droll repetition, meeting deadlines and creating flow charts and helping a business that is ultimately meaningless.

I die a little every morning that I have to wake up and drive (paying 2 tolls each way) to work and sit in a cube surrounded by people who nauseate me.

I speak in hyperbole of course. And MGMT has a cynical, sarcastic way of saying it, too, but the point remains. And this is why I cannot stand the thought of a "real" job.

Single Young Men

2008-04-09T21:28:00.003-04:00

http://www.city-journal.org/2008/18_1_single_young_men.html

Here's an interesting article concerning the state of single young men --basically 20-somethings who are putting off marriage, family, and ingeneral, manhood. It's rather long, but worth a read. I'll try to summarize it for you.

In previous generations, it was not uncommon for 27-year-old men (guys my age) to be married with multiple children. They had real responsibilities that force men to follow mature pursuits: a career, a stable home, the respect and thoughtfulness of a lifelong commitment to a lover, and so forth. Now, however, it is more common for a 27-year-old man to have none of these commitments. Men (and the population in general) are getting married at a later age.

For the most part, the delay in getting married and assuming grown-up responsibilities like a family and a stable career are good things. I think an older -- and therefore usually wiser -- person is more likely to choose a better mate, more likely to have progressed further in their career and toward financial stability that can only help when raising children, and is more likely to be more mature in their pursuits --contributing positively to their society, and family. Gone are the rebellions and angst of adolescence, and the carefree attitudes of the college years.

Yet, as that article argues, guys my age are increasingly refusing to grow up. Many of the indictments of the "Single Young Man" described there hit a little too close to home for me personally. I can't help but think that some of my listlessness is the result of being bereft of any truly manly responsiblities: a wife, a family, a home. Surely, these things would not provide a salvo for my quarter-life, transitional, existential frustrations. But they would certainly provide more impetus for me to resolve some of my internal questions. I see the author's point.

But what is more disconcerting for me about my generation, is how this void of responsibilities has stunted the moral and intellectual growth of my fellow single young men. Plenty of guys my age -- including myself -- are guilty of some of the worst accusations the author hurls at us. We "hangout in a playground of drinking, hooking up, playing Halo 3, and in many cases, underacheiving." We become obsessed with fleeting subjects like sports (I'd wager 75% of my blog posts have been dedicated to this topic), electronics, women, music, and other entertainments. We give little to no thought to the serious, important questions of human existence.

While I include myself in this group, I like to think I'm a little better. I DO read important books. I DO care about and think seriously about important issues. I don't waste my time reading Maxim, or playing video games. I find myself enjoying football (America's most popular sport) less and less. And the decline in Americans' (and Westerners') intelligence and morals (if you agree with such an accusation), cannot be laid solely at the feet of twenty-something men.

But all of this leads me to my ultimate point. I want to explore the plight of single young men. We are a much maligned group. We are criticized for everything mentioned above. Yet I think the state of single young men in this country is consistently the most misunderstood experience in American life. There is a seemlingly endless supply of literature, films, plays and other artistic expressions of mid-life crises (for both men and women); "chicklit" and the preponderance of shows like "Sex and the City" give us explorations of the experiences, thoughts and feelings of women; and children in our society have earned nearly untouchable status: we cannot criticize children or childhood because of their innocence. Yet where is the literature or defense of the young single man? Certainly, those other groups deserve their coverage. But so does the single young man.

Part of the problem of the lack of literature about young men is explained in the article above, and is due to one single overriding fact: young, single guys don't read much. And they certainly don't read anything self-critical or self-reflective. So here's what I am proposing: I want to write about the things that concern me and my demographic. I hope to explore the experience of the single, educated, twenty-something man. I want to try to explain why we do the things we do; why we don't the things we should or could do; how we see the world and how that view affects our relationships with others and with the world; what is important to us, and what should be important to us, and the places where those things occasionally intersect.

As a disclaimer: all I can give is my personal opinions and views, so by nature, my writings may not reflect the majority of single young men. I think we all understand the nature of human individuality. Hopefully I can provide some interesting insights into the minds and lives of guys my age.

Bill James on 60 Minutes Tonight

2008-03-30T13:07:00.003-04:00

It's been brought to my attention that some of you have no idea what I am talking about when I mention sabermetrics and some of the new baseball stats. So I'll try to help you out, and perhaps help you learn a little about them.

But I'm not gonna do it personally. Instead, I'll just point out -- as I did in the title there -- that Bill James is slated to appear on 60 Minutes tonight. Alright, I'll give you a little background.

Bill James works for the Red Sox now. But back in the 1970s, when he was in his 20s, Bill James worked at a Van de Kamp franks and beans factory in Kansas. However, he loved baseball. He started questioning conventional wisdom about baseball, and, because he's a pretty brilliant guy, he began coming up with new ways to evaluate players and what happens on a baseball field. He began writing the annual "Bill James Baseball Abstract", which became popular among other intelligent baseball fans, and which eventually helped lead to the founding of the Society for American Baseball Research (SABR). Members included James and plenty of other brilliant scientists, writers, professors, businessmen -- anyone who loved baseball and wanted to look for new, better ways to gauge the game. So they came up with new stats which came to be known as "SABRmetrics" (see how they did that?), and then later, "sabermetrics."

Well, 60 Minutes can probably tell you the rest of the story better than I can. But suffice to say, I'm really glad Bill James works for the Red Sox. I'll be watching. And I'll probably learn something I didn't know. You might too.

Things White People Like That I Love to Hate

2008-03-26T17:40:00.006-04:00

I'm sure you've heard of it by now, but if you're one of the 7 people that haven't, allow me to burst your bubble of blissful ignorance: there's a popular blog on the internet called "Things White People Like." I would link to it but frankly, I'm too lazy, and it's extremely easy for you to simply google it. Also, I don't want to directly contribute to its readership.

I first heard of this blog about a month and a half ago maybe, from a friend. It seemed sort of funny, heavy on the sarcasm, short on substance, but hey, who doesn't love a cheap laugh? Since that time, however, I've seen this blog mentioned and linked seemingly everywhere I go. Of course it's been referenced on ESPN.com, Boston.com, and I'm sure countless other popular sites that I don't visit regularly. But what really disturbed me was it's reference in an article in a bi-weekly magazine I get called "The American Conservative." One would not expect a conservative publication to be hip to the latest internet fad, but there it was 2 weeks ago. At that point, much like countless other trends including the phrase "jumping the shark," the blog (which I've admittedly read very little of) officially "jumped the shark" for me.

One would think the only addition left for this destined-to-be-forgotten-in-3-weeks blog to put as a popular pasttime for white people is: "Discussing the Blog 'Things White People Like'". Who else can laugh at themselves like white people? Or at least pretend to, in the name of racial harmony?

Take Me Down to the Infirmary

2008-03-25T17:34:00.003-04:00

In honor of one of my favorite Cracker songs (the title post), this post is written as my body struggles to fight off the ravages of an early-spring cold. And "early-spring" is being generous. We might get snow tonight. How the hell does it snow after Easter? That's outrageous. I demand to speak to someone.

But actually, this post is of a serious nature. Yesterday on the radio, I heard the news that we have reached the point in Iraq that 4000 US servicemen and -women have been killed, with thousands more wounded. The 5-year mark of the invasion of Iraq passed a couple weeks ago, and I couldn't let this newest benchmark of tragedy pass without discussion.

First -- and this may shock some of you who know what a conservative I am -- I have been opposed to the Iraq since it was first proposed. Not for some silly reason like pacifism, or because I don't believe in interventionism, though that's closer to my reason. No, I have opposed this war from the outset for a variety of reasons. One, because the USA had no interest in it. There was no reason for the US to invade Iraq, no gains to be made. Two, because the war is an example of Israel using America as a lackey. As the larger and more powerful nation, our relationship with Israel should be reversed. They should be furthering America's interests in their region, rather than the other way round. Three, because a long, calamitous war -- which is what this invasion was bound to become -- has only served to harm America's already hated image in an area of the world in which we desperately need to change our perception.

Two and a half years ago, I attended a funeral in Arlington National Cemetery for a college buddy. This man had a young son, and had joined the Marines to help himself find the strength and means to support his child. He had done it. Now, he knew what he had signed on for -- if you join the Armed Forces in a time of war, you can't be so naive as to think you won't go to war. My friend believed in the war he was fighting, as do most of our soldiers. But they also trust that their leaders would not put them in a situation where their sacrifices would be in vain, for an impractical cause. Their leaders have done just that.

I am distressed with our continued occupation of Iraq. I am saddened by the fact that 4000 young men and women have died in a needless action. I miss my friend. I do not pretend to know the best way out of this predicament, but I think it needs to be brought to a speedy end.

Last night at the Celtics game, during a timeout in the 3rd quarter, with a great game tied, they had one of those contests where a fan shoots a 3-pointer for a prize. An earlier fan had drawn boos from the crowd for failing to even reach the rim with his shot. Well, last night was "Seats for Soldiers" night. The Garden crowd had already given a standing ovation to the many members of the Armed Forces sprinkled throughout the arena. For this second contest, the shooter was an Army serviceman. They blindfolded him and had him shoot a free throw for a chance to shoot a 3-pointer for $5000 and free laser eye surgery. The soldier calmly made the free throw. The place was abuzz. The Celtics had given us little reason to cheer all night, but perhaps this soldier could ignite the crowd.

They moved him back to the 3-point line at the top of the key and again blindfolded him. The announcer again told us what he was shooting for and then gave the soldier the word to shoot. The man raised his hands and lofted a perfect shot. It dropped through the rim, hitting nothing but the bottom of the net. The Garden erupted, and the soldier walked off the court to a thunderous standing ovation. It was the loudest cheer the crowd mustered all night.

At least we still know what's most important.