Humility sideways

Humility, I believe, is an important but very hard to achieve characteristic. Jesus said, "Blessed are the humble, for they shall inherit the earth." In my understanding, humility is not feeling sorry for oneself (which I am at times prone to do), but a realistic perception of oneself, especially relative to others. It is so hard for us to accomplish in part because we have to come to the realization that we are as likely to make mistakes and do wrong as others. I think all too often we have the following sentiment, which we confuse for humility: "well, I know I'm not the kindest person, but I would never do that to someone" or "I'm not the smartest person, but I know I wouldn't do something that stupid." Notice how in our thinking, we have actually made fairly strong absolutes in our mind, using words like "never" or "would not." We are in a sense a priori assuming we could never do something so wrong or silly, but then we try to fake humility by thinking that we aren't totally perfect (just not that imperfect).

But the reason I bring this up is because I find that - and I imagine many others do as well - when I am directly confronted with a misstep or wrong, I tend to be quite defensive or write off what is being said as inaccurate or a rare exception. I have found, as I did this evening, that I am often most reflective and open to humility when someone tells me about how another person has wronged or hurt them. For some reason, I find that I compare myself to the antagonist and realize that I have done similar things. It can at times seem as if someone is describing a reflection of a person, only to look in the mirror and see that person they are describing is you.

But then, maybe I'm just being unfair to myself and beating myself up. But then, maybe that's okay, because it helps to balance out the pedestal we too often put ourselves on.

It it is so cool to listen to a song you love but haven't heard in a long time. It's a small flame rekindled in the soul:
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Now playing: Dave Matthews & Tim Reynolds - Crush
via FoxyTunes

Deepness

Sometimes, when I am reading or thinking very intensely, I start to feel like it is all coming together. Like I can almost see the depth of life and existence. It's as if I am hiking down to the valley floor from a high mountain. It is dark and foggy, but up ahead, I think I see the fog breaking around a turn as the trail seems to level off. I become excited as I begin to believe I have reached my long sought destination. As I walk through the break in the fog around the turn, I find myself staring out over the edge of a precipice. Everything is suddenly vivid as the fog disappears. The valley floor is unimaginably far below me, the landscape enormous beyond compare, mountains endlessly towering above me. It is awesome in the truest sense of the word. I am filled with an overwhelming sense of awe. I am breathless at the vast expanse. The fog suddenly materializes, as quickly as it dissipated. I step back from the edge of the cliff and grab hold of a rock with all my strength. My heart overflows with wonder and fear. Our meager souls were not meant to bear or digest such scale. It was depth beyond comprehension.

The weaker sex

Today, our pastor said the following during his sermon:

"When the Bible says women are the weaker sex, it does not mean spiritually. There are some women in this room who are spiritual giants. What it means is that, guys, if you were in a cage fight with your wife, you would probably win. Big deal."

I'm still laughing...

Openness, Austen style

My previous entry reminded me of a quote I have been meaning to track down from Persuasion. When I read this line, it was as if Jane Austen had articulated something of which I only had a vague conception:

"She felt that she could so much more depend upon the sincerity of those who sometimes looked or said a careless or hasty thing, than of those whose presence of mind never varied, whose tongue never slipped."

In my poor attempt at paraphrasing: I trust people who are open, and in being so sometimes say or do things that are mildly offensive or ridiculous, more so than people who are closed and are a little too careful in what they say.

However, there is a limit to openness, I think best captured by C. S. Lewis in The Problem of Pain:

"The 'frankness' of people sunk below shame is a very cheap frankness."

There is then a boundary to openness, but I think the world would be a much better place if people were more open, not the reverse.

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Now playing: Dave Matthews Band Live - Shotgun
via FoxyTunes

Final words of wisdom

The next to last verse in Proverbs is as follows:

Charm is deceitful and beauty is vain,
But a woman who fears the LORD, she shall be praised.

I supposed this could have some interesting implications, but I haven't really thought it out completely. Just thought it was, as a friend used to say, something to marinate in.

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Now playing: Dave Matthews Band Live - Where are You Going
via FoxyTunes

The streak

Everyone knows that flaunting your own streak is bad luck, but I thought I'd tempt Fate just the same.

I've been road cycling for about 6 years now. I've put thousands of miles on my bikes, been stuck in thunderstorms, hit two cars at close to full speed, ridden off the road and flipped over a tree root, but I have never flatted on a ride. Not once. There have been close to a dozen times when I have grabbed my bike the day after a ride to find one of the tires flat, but I have never actually gotten a flat tire while I was on a ride. I've seen everyone else I know get a flat tire on a ride, and I even had to pick up one friend who got stranded in an early Spring rainstorm after double flatting. But not me.

Just today, I went to jump on my bike, only to discover that one of my tires was flat. I tried to pump air back into it, but the hole was so big that air was leaking out so quickly I couldn't even get the PSI to register on the gauge. Yet, on my last ride I didn't have the slightest problem with the tire. It's simply remarkable.

And I know my time is due.

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Now playing: Jason Mraz - Sleeping To Dream
via FoxyTunes

Play it like it isn't

I was reading an interesting article in Rolling Stone recently about Coldplay on their tour. And then I read the following:

"Martin used to pull the Dylan move of changing that song's melody — but then he got some simple advice from Michael Stipe: 'Stop doing that. People want to hear the songs the way they know them.'"

Michael Stipe, who is the lead singer of R.E.M., should be absolutely ashamed of himself. His comment is both absurd and appalling. Did Chris Martin really buy into this? I sincerely hope not.

I love listening to music. It alone might be a compelling argument for the existence of God. And what I really love is the experience of a live musical performance. My cup is overflowing when I leave just about any live show. I think one of the things that makes live music so awesome is that you are not just listening to a well-produced recording. You are listening to something that is a true original. It is so amazing when a musician pulls the unexpected out of the familiar, when they take a song you know so well and do something inspired and new to the melody or rhythm. This is one of the most thrilling aspects of a live performance. You think you know what the next note will be, but to your astonishment and delight something known becomes something amazingly new.

Honestly, I don't want to just hear the CD live. I want to experience the full possibilities of the musical geniuses on stage. Chris Martin, don't let the sellouts take away your musical soul. Please. Be original and spontaneous. Be a risk taker. Maybe all the phonies won't come to your concerts, but it will just make the rest of us want to come more.

By the way, don't believe the reviews. Prospekt's March, the sort of follow up B Sides to Viva La Vida, is excellent.

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Now playing: Coldplay - Prospekt's March
via FoxyTunes

Face to Face

It's been a long time since I threw a song up here that I've written. I've only "finished" a few, so I thought I'd write it down.

I am completely fascinated by the concept of love: two people being completely reliant on one another. We seem so preoccupied with self-reliance in this country. I guess it's the safer bet. But I think to really and completely fall in love, you have to be willing to be dependent on someone else. Too often I think people view love as a nice side bet or supplement to their happiness. But to really get it, you have to let go. To live in love, you have to die to yourself in a sense. One of the best analogies I can think of is this game I've played at low ropes courses. Basically, two people stand on wires about two feet apart from one another. They extend their arms above their heads and hold hands, forming a triangle. They slowly scoot out along the wires, which gradually grow farther and farther apart. To avoid falling to the ground, both of you must lean into each other more and more as the ropes grow apart. If you do not trust one another and equally spread your weight, you will fall. Both of you are vital to the other person staying upright. It is hard to do, but if done right, you can get incredibly far apart. So here it is...

Face to Face

Baby said don't let go, I'm going down
Baby said hold on tight, you're all I've got
I thought to myself, "you must be crazy
Don't you realize, you're saving me"

CHORUS:
Babies crying now
She is so scared
You need to know that
I'm not gonna fly away
Everything is spinning now
We are upside down
But we're face to face
I must be right side up

Look at it crashing down, all around
Darkness is moving in, I can't see anything
I reach out my hand and you grab on hard
It's our only hold on where we are

CHORUS

Remember that fight we had the other day
I was telling you, I'm always right
But the truth is I'm just hiding
I think I'm always wrong, ain't it strange

CHORUS

Little things

I think it is often the little things in life that make life amazing and rich. Finding the stuff of everyday life that makes my heart soar seems a lot more fulfilling than the alternative approach of surviving most days for a few incredible days every year. I want each day to fill me with wonder and amusement and depth. Not just a few vacation weeks and a couple adventures. Those are nice, too, but I want to live in the moment. With that said, I've decided to start recording some of the little things, whenever I feel the fancy. Some of them may seem mundane, and perhaps they are, or maybe you aren't looking hard enough at what is right in front of you.

So, for today...

Drinking 1% milk after almost exclusively living off of skim milk will blow your mind. Seriously! I'm talking head spinning deliciousness.

Discovering the repairs made to roads over the Winter on your first few Spring rides is a really pleasant surprise that makes those early season and sometimes frustrating rides (did I really lose this much fitness over the Winter months?) worth it. I'm thinking of Crusher Road, aptly named, which I discovered a couple weeks ago was repaved at an intersection that used to be filled with potholes so big that at best, would shake you to the bone and at worst, would throw you to the pavement. Or the harrowing bridge at the bottom of a steep local hill on whose metal grates you would often be deposited at close to 30 miles per hour (the sign recommended dismounting and walking across the bridge), which was recently paved over and now smoothly sends you on your way.

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Now playing: David Ford - Go To Hell
via FoxyTunes

Going golden

I was listening to NPR the other day as they were discussing this fad in Asia to be as white as possible. Apparently, in some Asian cultures, it is very cool to be very pale. It has gotten to the point (I guess it should be expected) that people are undergoing all kinds of crazy skin treatments and taking medications to make their skin whiter. I just don't understand...

I remember several years ago I read an article in Time or some other news magazine about how the human race, due to more interracial marriage made possible by modern transportation and migration, was headed towards a golden complexion. I've always thought that was pretty cool. How mankind, with all its crazy racial problems, would eventually end up a beautiful race of bronze.

Don't get me wrong, I also find all of the different skin tones of our species beautiful. What I really just don't understand is why people tan themselves to the point of absurdity, or drug themselves to look a little more pale.

Just be, y'all. Enjoy your unique shade.

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Now playing: John Mayer Trio - Something's Missing
via FoxyTunes

Slumdog love

Last week I finally caved and went to see Slumdog Millionaire. I admit, I went in almost determined not to like it, convinced that it would be cliche and contrived. In the end, it was a little contrived, but overall it really was a terrific movie. I'm not sure it really should have won best picture: I'm still shocked Doubt was not even nominated - an amazingly acted and incredibly deep film that refused to end on a Hollywoodesque, all is well ending. Still, Slumdog was a great film that I thoroughly enjoyed.

What most touched me about the film was how Jamal, the protagonist, reacts once he has won his millions. When he wins, and the confetti streams down over the stage as the crowd cheers wildly, there is a serene calmness over his face, as if to say, "this is nice and all, but I don't need it one bit." No, his mind is far away, wondering where the girl he loves is and how he can possibly find her. Most people, upon winning millions, would likely party like there is no tomorrow. There will be many more women, they would think, perhaps wisely. But Jamal does not throw himself a fantastic party, nor does he seem particulalry overwhelmed by his new wealth and status.

No, we instead next find Jamal sitting alone on a train platform, desperately hoping that the girl he loves will show her face. He could, probably should, just walk away and start a new life. But alas, he waits in vain for a girl. Maybe he is a love sick fool. Or maybe, just maybe, he has come to understand that things like money, career, power are not really what life is about. These are the silly things we chase after in order to try to find fulfillment, and I think sometimes to avoid opening our hearts. But they aren't the things that will fill our souls. Jamal gets it, and that's why he only goes on the show in the first place so that his love will see him on TV.

Maybe I'm just a hopeless romantic, but Jamal, I would sit all night at that train station, too.

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Now playing: Jason Mraz - Sleeping To Dream
via FoxyTunes

I am rich! (and so are you)

It is easy for many of us, including myself, to get caught up in complaining about what we don't have or what we wish was better about our life. And while I do fall into this rut more often than I would like to admit, I am trying very hard to have the proper perspective. Because you know what? I am unbelievably blessed (lucky if you like), and so are most of you (you meaning Americans, not just the meager readership of my blog).

Look, I know everything is not perfect: the one thing I want to fill my life more than anything else I do not have. But most everything else in my life is pretty frickin' good. I have a fairly secure job in a severe economic downturn. I am relatively successful at my job and make more money than I probably deserve (whatever "deserve" means). I am healthy, have a family that loves me, if imperfectly, and amazing friends. And the list could go on and on. And yes, not having in my life what I most want can make all my experiences a little bittersweet, but it is still very sweet.

Think about all of the people in the world who are desperately poor. In 2005, it was estimated that 1.4 billion people live in "extreme poverty" (living on less than $1.25 a day). That number was 430 million more than previously estimated. Take a moment to let that soak in. They underestimated the number of people in extreme poverty by almost one-and-a-half times the US population! Now some may argue your perceptions are relative to what you are used to. In other words, if you are used to $200,000 a year, $50,000 may seem like very little money. Therefore, people who live in third world countries (I think the PC term is underdeveloped) are content because they are doing fine relative to what they are used to. But consider that 2.6 billion people (roughly 40% of the world's population) do not even have access to a toilet. Having basic sanitation is about more than lifestyle or comfort - the lack of it can lead to all sorts of diseases and considerably raises child morbidity. Imagine not having access to clean drinking water, drinking from the same stream that people relieve themselves in.

Don't you see how truly blessed all of us really are? Your job may not be your dream job and may not pay as much as you would like, but if you take just a small step back, you will realize how good you have it. I'm not saying don't reach for that perfect job or that bigger paycheck. But dammit, stop complaining and put on a positive attitude, because the grass is green on this side, my friend. If you can't see this, your eyes are wide shut.

The fruit of love

Over the past few months, Jason Mraz has become one of my favorite musical artists. I love discovering new musicians, but Mraz is something special and has shot straight to the top of my list. I was introduced to him early last year by an amazing young lady who, unfortunately, seems to think quite the opposite of me. At the time I didn't realize how amazing he was, probably in part due to the fact that she introduced me to him on some pretty lousy sounding laptop speakers (how a professional musician can bear to listen to music on those tone-butchering speakers is quite beyond me).

One of my favorite songs by Jason (I really want to call him JM, but another excellent musician has aleady claimed those initials) is called Wordplay. The song is very clever - just trying to sing along with the song can be quite challening. In the second verse, he employs a pretty neat little trick I first learned about relative to the radio. See, good radio talk show hosts realize the power of silence. Sometimes, before they are about to say something important or that they want to make sure their audience hears, especially after a long monologue, they will pause. The pause might last 2-3 seconds or more, which seems like an eternity on the radio. But it is so powerful because, after the pause, the next thing they say stands out in contrast to the silence. If you are listening to the radio in the background, the sound after the pause will often suddenly catch your attention.

So in this song Wordplay, Jason sings "Gotta find another way to keep from goin' under /
Pull out the stops / [PAUSE] / Got your attention". What I really like about this is how he works in the dynamic of the pause into the lyrics themselves. He sings "stops" and then the music literally stops for an instant. After the pause, the next line is "got your attention." He is capturing your attention by stopping and then resuming, and in the very words he sings next he is pointing out he does in fact have your attention again. You probably need to listen to the song (around 1:30) to really appreciate it, but I think it's actually pretty clever.

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Now playing: Jason Mraz - Wordplay
via FoxyTunes   

If music be the food of love, play on;
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.

Advantage, girls

Perhaps the experience I am about to describe is a little odd, so consider yourself forewarned.

See, on occasion, I find myself finishing my business at the urinal only to discover that I, in fact, need to now relieve myself , let's say, sitting down. How I did not realize this upon my entry into the restroom is unclear, but sometimes the sensation can be somewhat sudden. And when this occurs I myself in a bit of a quandary, especially when I am at work and others are in the room. For some reason I find it somewhat embarrassing to make my way directly from the urinal to a stall. I feel as if I am sending the signal that I do not know my own body (or worse). Would you trust someone's work who is uncertain of the what they are doing in bathroom?

And then I started thinking, what is really interesting to me about this is that girls do not suffer the same problem. Whenever they are going to the bathroom, they are always in a stall sitting down. They can switch it up without anyone noticing. Must be nice...

The meaning of life on a bathroom wall

On the wall of the bathroom at the restaurant I ate at tonight:

Money, Power, Respect. That is what you need to live the life.

Upon reading this, a strange and intense feeling flooded my mind, and all I could think was:

"No man, it's love. It's all about love. The rest of it, career, money, reputation. It doesn't mean anything. Maybe you will see once you have all of those things. You are chasing the wind. It's really just all about love."

Cheesy? Cliche? Hippie? I don't care. My soul was crying out.

The wasp

Finding a wasp pressed against your inner thigh inside the cycling shorts you are wearing. Incredibly lame.

Discovering that the wasp is already dead. Marvelous!

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Now playing: Yes - And You and I: Cordo of Life/Eclipse/The Preacher the Teacher/The Apoca
via FoxyTunes

Why am I listening to Yes? No idea; the music part of my brain just really wanted to hear it. That's the great thing about a fairly broad music collection.

The ambivalence in the chase

For Christmas my grandparents gave me the highly acclaimed Planet Earth series. It is truly astounding: they have coupled unparalleled cinematography with terrific music and expert narration. I could not more strongly recommend this series.

As I mentioned a couple months back, my new favorite word is ambivalent. It captures so well the complexities of life. Not the grey in between, but the powerful thoughts and emotions that can tear us in what are sometimes two completely different directions. I mention this because it has come to mind as I watch the Planet Earth episodes. I find myself torn as I watch the incredible chases for survival between predator and prey. I want so badly for the snow leopard to catch its prey because its very life may hang in the balance of successfully capturing food. And yet I also am deeply saddened at the sight of the prey falling victim to those powerful jaws - I want the prey to escape and continue its life. It's a very strange and almost frightening sensation, to feel such diverse and opposing desires. I feel quite invested when I watch this battle for survival unfold. It's really nothing, I know. But I sense that such strong and ambivalent feelings, if more directly experienced in one's life, could rip a person' s soul in two.

A Snowy Walk

The snow underfoot
Frozen and crunching loudly
Yet no one hears it

Man's best (morning) friend

I am not an early morning person. I really wish I were, but it takes me a little time to come out of the stupor and haze I find myself in immediately after waking up. Showers help, but it still takes me around an hour to become my normal perky and happy self. I actually enjoy the rest of the morning, once I finally find my whits.

But dogs, on the other hand, really love the early morning. And it's very refreshing. When I was visiting my uncle over Thanksgiving, I got to hang out with his 2 beautiful and affectionate yellow labs. They are two of the sweetest canines I have ever known. Every morning, when I would stumble downstairs in my early morning confusion (I was, quite contrary to normal vacation behavior, one of the, if not the first person to wake up every day), they would be the first to greet me. And it was always the most enthusiastic and friendliest greeting, as if I were an age-old companion they had not seen in many years. It was incredibly heart-warming, even in my half-awake and grumpy state, to be met with such unsolicited and energetic friendliness.

A couple times, when I took a nap in the afternoon, upon returning to the family area, they would actually start barking and jumping in glee that I had returned. It felt good to be missed so, after only an hour, even if it was just a couple of dumb labs. I love dogs, and one of these days, when I get my life sorted out, I am going to get one of my own!

Requiem for Daddy Bim's

One of my favorite things about going home (aside from seeing family) is the excellent food, both home-cooked and in local restaurants. Southern food is really quite amazing, and I think the girth of the Bible belt will attest to this. Daddy Bim's is at the top of my list of restaurants to visit when I am in my hometown. They serve incredible food at outrageously good prices and even grind fresh beans for each pot of coffee. The place may seem like a hole-in-the-wall barbecue joint, but it is for real, with a great chef to top it off. Among other stints, Daddy Bim went to the Culinary Institute of America, was the personal cook for Don Johnson (of Miami Vice), and was the executive chef at Mountain Lake Hotel, while they were filming "Dirty Dancing" there. (He also found time to direct my mom in a stage performance of "On Golden Pond" at the local community theater.) When I ate there just a few days ago, I stuffed myself to the brim with North Carolina style pulled pork barbecue, made from scratch spoonbread, spiced baked beans, sweet tea, and for dessert, homemade root beer (less sweet but full of flavor) and to-die-for chocolate bourbon chess pie. I ate so much I felt ill, but this was one of the few instances where behaving so gluttonously was worth it.

So why, then, is this a requiem? First, let me tell you about my eating-out experience a few nights prior. A few friends and I decided to catch up and grab a drink, which required going to on of the few establishments on our side of town that serves alcohol, the local Applebee's. I was a little hungry, so I ordered a basket of onion rings for the table. They weren't great, and I soon paid for my poor decision - my stomach was quite upset for the next 16 hours. I have a had a few questionable meals at Applebee's, and I think this was the final straw. I am swearing that particular chain restaurant off for good.

But the real tragedy here is that, at my visit to Daddy Bim's a few days ago, I found out they were permanently closing their doors in the next couple of days. In fact, at the writing of this, I think they have already shut their doors. I was pretty sad when I heard this news, but then my sadness turned to anger. I mean, seriously, what on earth!? How is a restaurant with incredible homemade food prepared by a legitimate chef closing down while a mile away, Applebee's seems to be doing just fine? You'd almost certainly pay more at Applebee's, too! And the service would be worse. Does Applebee's even have a real chef? I imagine most of the food is basically pre-prepared, frozen, and delivered by truck from the nearest Applebee's warehouse. And this is the kind of establishment consumers keep in business with their patronage over a Daddy Bim's? It's mind-boggling and heart-breaking! Aren't there enough over-priced chain restaurants out there? Why not patronize one local establishment with great food to keep it in business? Have we really done so much damage to our sense of taste with all of this processed food that we cannot appreciate natural, expertly made from scratch cuisine?

The economist in me is whispering supply and demand, but this, I feel, must be an exception. Sometimes consumers make poor decisions (like buying houses they can't afford - I hear that is going around). Now you have driven an excellent establishment out of business, but at least you have your Applebee's. Part of me wants to wish on all who eat there a curse of food poisoning similar to my fate. Alas, I am not that vindictive. Punishment enough will be that, when you have a craving for some delectable chocolate bourbon chess pie, you will have little luck in finding it.

R.I.P. Daddy Bim's

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Now playing: The Allman Brothers Band - Whipping Post
via FoxyTunes

More than time

A year or so back, one of my friends at work was reprimanded by her boss for wearing a watch to a meeting with clients that was not professional enough. Now I do agree with the idea that, especially in consulting, you need to project an image of competence and success. After all, your client needs to be comfortable in spending lots of money to basically just get your advice. If you look like a disaster, you may undermine your ability to gain their confidence. But I'm not sure wearing a sport watch instead of a Tag Heuer is going to play much of a role in such image-building.

On this note, I recently read an article about Treasury Secretary Hank Paulson in Newsweek and found the following sentence particularly interesting:

"Paulson adheres tightly to the Goldman ethos: Make enormous amounts of money but don't act like it (though Paulson's stake in the firm was worth about $500 million when he cashed out in 2006, he wears a digital training watch, not a Rolex)."

So here is at least one example of success being projected without the assistance of a fancy watch. Although I do wonder if this is really some sort of psychological ploy by Paulson and his Goldman compatriots. By wearing a $50 Timex, instead of a $20,000 Tag Heuer, isn't he almost bringing more attention to his watch choice because he picked the unexpected for someone of his vast wealth and stature? He is almost making more of the point that he in fact can very easily make the choice to wear an outrageously expensive watch, or not.

Then again, I often think about these things far too much. Either way, friend, the next time someone criticizes your watch, just point out Paulson's selection.

Taking Trebek to School

I love it when I get to the gym around 7PM. It means I get to watch Jeopardy! (Seriously, I get excited). But this evening was extra fun, for the following reason:

Tonight, as I was watching Double Jeopardy (you know, round two, when all the dollar amounts are doubled), all three players got the same $2,000 question wrong. Trebek remarked, "No harm done. You all got it wrong and lost the same amount of money." But, sir, I object! This is not necessarily the case, especially late in the Double Jeopardy round.

Do you see why Trebek is in fact wrong that no harm was done? Let me pose a simple example. Let's say there are only two players, Sean Connery and Burt Reynolds. They have come to the very last question in Double Jeopardy, which is worth $2,000. Sean Connery has $20,000 and Burt Reynolds has $10,500. If both players answer this question incorrectly and each lose $2,000, Connery will have $18,000, and Reynolds will have $8,500.

If neither player had answered the question, Connery would have had to bet $1,001 in Final Jeopardy to guarantee that he would win, earning a total of $21,001. This is because, if Connery bet nothing, and Reynolds bet everything, Reynolds would win with $21,000. But after both players got the final $2,000 question wrong, even if Reynolds bets everything and gets Final Jeopardy right, he will only have $17,000, which is short of the $18,000 Connery has. In other words, Connery can simply bet nothing and win the game straight up.

So, Trebek, what you have claimed is in fact erroneous. Losing the $2,000 can have a different impact on each player and can in fact completely change the dynamic of the game. I think a fictionalized Sean Connery said it best.

Singles and socks

Have you ever been putting away your socks to realize that one of the socks is missing its mate? I'm sure you must have - socks are always mysteriously disappearing, or getting left in suitcases, or falling behind things. I have a lot of different socks, so it is usually quite apparent which sock has lost its partner (as opposed to having a lot of similar white socks for instance, in which case it would be difficult to identify which particular sock has been left single, instead having simply an odd number of similar looking socks).

When this happens, and it is quite a common occurrence, I often feel some regret or a pang of sadness. See, at the forefront of my mind is the realization that this sock will not be returned to its partner or worn again until the next wash cycle. And that assumes I can find the lost soul before I wash my socks again; if I cannot, who knows when these socks will be reunited and my feet can enjoy their cozy comfort.

I'd like to cast this as being disappointed at not being able to wear a pair of socks I like, but I think I must admit I'm also feeling a little sorry for that lonely sock, but that would be absurd, right?

A myth

The other day I was visiting my cousin and her new husband, and we decided it would be fun to play some Wii. First I played her husband in Wii golf and beat him handily in a 9-hole round (somehow managing 2 eagles in the process). Then I play my cousin in bowling. We tied the first game, so we played a second, that I won, but only by a thin margin.

Still, what was strange to me was that I had beaten them both. I have only played Wii a few times, and for the most part have sworn off video games altogether. They both seemed a little surprised, and probably a bit frustrated as well. I think truly I just got lucky. But then I started to think about my situation and mythology...

I imagined a curse that I think would make the ancient Greeks proud. Imagine a man who was incredibly talented and lucky. Everything he did he succeeded at, every competition he entered he won. He could have everything he wanted. Except one thing. He could not have the one thing he treasured above all else, his deepest and most passionate desire. Imagine it! Everything at your fingertips, but unable to have what you most want. Even the greatest of things would begin to become a cruel joke because the one thing desired more than it all would continue to be illusive. Soon the greatest victory would be overshadowed by bitterness of defeat at what mattered the most.

And then I was reminded of some lyrics from one of my favorite Nickel Creek songs:

I hope he still wants it, but it might remind him of when,
he aimed for the bulls eye and hit it nine times out of ten.
That one time his hand slipped, and I saw the dart sail away.
I don't know where it landed, but I'm guessing between green and gray.
We thought nothing of it, but it still haunts him like a ghost.
With all eyes upon him, except two that matter the most.

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Now playing: Nickel Creek - Green And Gray
via FoxyTunes

The billboard ad

Yesterday I was driving by Philly and saw a really clever billboard. It read:

Don't Advertise!
You might run out of product.

Don't worry, it took me a second, too.

The journey

I step out the front door, bundled up in several layers to try to keep warm. It is very early in the morning, still dark out, and very quiet. It is the kind of quiet you only get very early in the morning, after the late night revelers have finally called it quits, but before the early birds have crawled out of bed. It is an eerie and still quiet, like you are the only person in the city and time has stopped. A palpable solitude. I look all around me. Sure enough, not a single person. Perhaps I should have stayed in bed longer. Doesn't matter - I wasn't able to sleep anyways.

I walk down the street, hang a right, and begin heading north. I'm finally starting to wake up and a hint of excitement begins to build in my chest, but it is just a whisper. After I walk a few blocks, as yet having seen no one, I spot one, then two solitary souls up ahead of me, also sauntering north. As I carry on, one at a time, I begin to see a few more people, and then a couple. There is now a slight spring in my feet, as the grogginess slowly fades away, in part because the cold is seeping through my layering to my body. Despite the dozen or so people I now see spread over the blocks in front of me, it is still very silent.

People continue to slowly materialize out of the dark all around me, and I can just make out a few words exchanged here and there. Then, behind me, I hear a rather boisterous group turn onto the street. They aren't really that noisy, but relative to the silence before, they sound almost as if they are shouting. It's still too early for me to try to make conversation, but I perk up a little more and quicken my pace.

I take a left, walk a few blocks, and then take another right, headed north again. My brain is only starting to function , so I'm just guessing and following others. There still isn't much of a crowd, just small pockets of people, and everyone now is taking lefts and rights almost at random, slowly moving across the grid of the city towards the northwest.

And then I hear a faint noise in the distance, almost like music blaring on outdoor speakers. I walk another block; the music slowly grows louder and now I can see lines of people moving in the same direction, towards a faint light in the distance. As I walk another block, it strikes me how bizarre it all is. Thousands of people now, very orderly streaming in the frigid and black early morning towards distant lights and music. The whole scene is surreal: it's like something out of a sci-fi movie, maybe Close Encounters of the Third Kind or War of the Worlds.

As I get closer to the crowd and then become one amid the current, my energy level and emotions jump start, and the hair on my neck and arms stands on end. I have to mentally check myself to save my physical and emotional energy. But now I am finally there - my journey through the streets of Philadelphia has brought me to the start of a much longer and more intense journey through Philly. Marathon number 2 is about to be underway...

She likes it bossy

Are you ever polite to inanimate objects? I often use the voice command on my blue tooth to call people from my cell when I am driving. I always feel a little bad demanding it to "call so and so." In my delirium driving home from the gym at 10:15 tonight, I asked my blue tooth to "please call mom's cell." She told me that she couldn't understand. I guess she just likes it bossy.

My new favorite word

These days people often use the word "ambivalent" interchangeably with "indifferent." But I've recently come to learn that a better definition of ambivalent is to feel two opposing or conflicting emotions towards something, or to simultaneously have both positive and negative feelings about something. (And I know I just used a split infinitive, and I don't care - I actually like them sometimes.)

When I learned this new definition, my hair stood up on end, because it seems to perfectly capture my sentiments about so much these days. I see a beautiful sunset and am filled with joy, and yet I am also filled with sadness because I have no one beside me to turn to and share it with. It makes for an incredibly complicated emotional state. To feel so full of life and yet so empty. I don't understand why so much of life is richer when there is someone to share it with, and the closer you are to that person, the richer it is. But I have a hunch we were designed like this: as God put it, "It is not good for the man to be alone."

It's sort of like when you are in a room full of people and feel overwhelming loneliness, or alone in the woods and overflowing with love for people. In the first case, you wonder why you can't be lonely on your own; in the latter, you wonder why there is no one to share all your love with. I even feel this way towards romantic love, eros (the way C.S. Lewis means it, to "be in love", not just sexual love). I am both frightened by it and enraptured by it. I want nothing to do with it and yet desire it intensely. In a word, I am ambivalent towards it, but certainly not indifferent.

Here comes the sun
And the rain
All at once
How it sing
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Now playing: Jason Mraz - Forecast
via FoxyTunes

Lips (too much lip)

This past Saturday I took the NJ Transit to NYC to see my cousin, who I hadn't seen in about 8 years. It's intriguing how much people change, and yet how little.

While I was riding on the train to Penn Station, back resting against the side of the train in order to spread my legs out a little towards the aisle, I looked up from my book, in my never-ending curiosity, to check out my fellow passengers. I noticed a cute brunette sitting on the the opposite side of the train, one seat back. She had on one of those old brown hats, somewhat similar to the one Jason Mraz wears in his music video for I'm Yours, and a black top. Very simple, but attractive. I noticed she was playing with and picking at her lips. In my hopeless romanticism, I imagined she was about to be re-united with some love she had been apart from for the past week. She was excited to press her lips against his, and in excited expectation was making sure her lips were perfect for the soft collision.

I looked up a short time later and noticed she was still playing with her lips, running her fingers along them and then picking at them with her fingernails. It was starting to get a little distracting and seemed to be a little more than just preparation for a long-desired kiss. As I looked up periodically throughout the rest of the hour-long train ride, I noticed she was continually touching her lips. By the end of the ride, I was somewhat disgusted with her lip obsession.

I hope the kiss was still great. But seriously, girl, give it a break! I hope he is less annoyed with your habit than I am. And think about it: you are riding on the NJ Transit, one of the dirtiest places known to man, sticking your hands all over your lips and mouth. Not exactly hygienic.

Fish out of water

I have been told that I am "quite a catch" about one too many times. As much as I appreciate the sentiment, the next time someone tells me this, I may very well go throw myself into the Delaware River. My premise: I must be taking people too figuratively. Maybe I will have more luck if I take them literally.

Revelation

My favorite Frost poem, because no matter how much we fight it, we were never meant to keep it all bottled up inside.

We make ourselves a place apart
Behind light words that tease and flout,
But oh, the agitated heart
Till someone really find us out.

'Tis pity if the case require
(Or so we say) that in the end
We speak the literal to inspire
The understanding of a friend.

But so with all, from babes that play
At hide-and-seek to God afar,
So all who hide too well away
Must speak and tell us where they are.

The red tray

Two years ago, I did a terrible thing. I stole a red lunch tray from Subway. Now my theft was entirely unintentional. But that is no justification for my action. Today I finally took the opportunity to rectify my wrong.

See, on a Fall day much like today, back in 2006, I went with some co-workers to Subway. I ordered my sub for "here", with the expectation of eating right outside the restaurant and enjoying the beautiful weather. But when we walked outside, we noticed all of the tables were taken, so we decided to carry on to the square a few hundred yards away. I noticed everyone else had gotten their meals "to go", but I figured I could eat in the square, and then quickly return my tray. But once we got to the square, we noticed all of the tables had been put away for the Winter. To my dismay, the decision was made to walk all the way back to the office and eat there. I was faced with a challenging decision: either walk back to Subway, return the tray, and then hurry back alone, or carry on with my tray and stay with my friends. I chose the latter. Once back at the office, I found myself stuck with one bright red Subway tray. I had stolen it. I could not look myself in the mirror for the rest of the day. But I vowed I would return it at the earliest opportunity.

I did not live up to my vow. That tray sat in my office for close to 2 years, and amassed enough dust to prove it. But today, in view of the whole world, I walked back to Subway with my dust-covered tray. My friends thought I was a fool. Why did I still have this tray? Why on earth didn't I throw it away, or even recycle it? But, I tell you, that tray was not my tray to wantonly dispose of. Yes, it would have been easier to just toss into a garbage can, and my office would have looked better without that bright red dusty tray. But today I endured the shame and disgrace, and returned it to its rightful owners. And I feel that a great weight has been lifted from my shoulders. And my office looks a little sharper.

My body is like a furnace

Today, after finishing a tough 20 mile run, I started shivering and couldn't stop (this is a semi-normal experience after tough workouts). The ice bath afterward didn't help. Now, several hours and several slices of pizza later, I am feeling pretty hot, even though my window is open to 59 degree weather. Seriously, it's like I am a furnace. I burned all my fuel and my fire was out. Then I restocked it with pizza, and half a gallon of milk, and its burning too hot. Strange but fascinating.

The cool old guy

Today as I was walking to the car from the gym, my attention was caught by a song that sounded familiar. I looked around for the source of this familiar tune, and noticed it was coming from a pick-up truck at the end of the parking lot with the driver's side door open. Half-way seated in the truck was an older guy, probably 60 or so, bandanna on his head, singing and jamming away to John Mayer's Atmosphere. It was absolutely hysterical, and yet so cool. How on earth this guy ever even heard of John Mayer, much less a little known song like Atmosphere, I have no idea. But I love that song. It almost makes me cry every time I listen to it. All I know is that was one cool old guy, even with the bandanna.

A special place

Come Ye Yourselves
To a Lonely Place
And Rest for a While

Sing boldly

The other day I was driving to work, windows down, listening to music and singing along. I was at a stop light, and as I looked in front of me, I noticed a pair of eyes peering back at me through the rear view mirror. She seemed to be staring, really. Of course, when I say I was singing, I mean I was singing, emotively and loudly. I thought it was kind of funny that this woman was staring at me. I like to think she was cute, mid-twenties, digging my facial expressions. In reality, she was probably 40 and wondering what the heck was wrong with me. Maybe I was embarrassing myself, but I don't really care.

Recently when I drive on interstates, I have been doing it with my windows rolled all the way down, singing full volume. Sometimes I arrive at my destination slightly hoarse.

You only live once. Have some joy. Keep singing, boldly, and at the top of your lungs if you like.

A joke full of wisdom

My friend and I were having a conversation about God, and one of the things I mentioned is coming to terms with the fact that often God's timing and our timing are not the same. My friend told me a great joke to this point, and I think it may be one of the wisest jokes I have ever heard. Perhaps you, as well, have heard it:

A very upright and holy man lives in a town that is under threat of flooding. A police officer comes to the man, and says that the town will surely flood, and that the man should leave immediately, or else almost definitely drown. The man responds that God will save him. As the flood waters rise, the man is forced to ascend to the upper floor of his house. A boat comes by his house, and the people in it yell to the man to board their boat so that they can take him to dry land and safety. He again refuses, proclaiming that God will save him. The flood waters continue to rise, and the man is forced to climb onto the roof of his house. Soon a helicopter hovers over him, and the rescuers shout down to the man that they will lower a basket to him. If he gets in it, they can save him from the flood. But the man yells back that God will save him. The flood waters continue to rise, and eventually the man is overcome and drowns.

Upon entering Heaven, he asks God, "why did you not save me? I trusted you."

God replies, "I sent every possible opportunity to you."

"Can I call you cute?"

I was hanging out with some friends this weekend, when one of their moms, upon meeting me, said (asked?), "can I call you cute?" I'm not really sure what to say to that. I think I went with the Tom Cruise approach: I just laughed. My friend seemed a little embarrassed, and immediately slipped in a "sorry about that." But honestly, that's okay. At least somebody is calling me cute. Actually, I seem to get this on a fairly common basis from moms. Apparently, I am really attractive to women in their mid-life. Maybe I've found myself in a modern day version of The Graduate. Or maybe not. Hopefully not.

On a similar note, I have a profile up on Match again, and in it I clearly say that I am only looking for serious Christians. I mean, it's in my frickin' headline, even! Somehow, girls just don't get it, despite how explicit I am. Today I get a wink from a girl, and I read her profile, only to discover that she was raised Catholic, but hasn't been to church in 4 years. Sorry, but that's not taking God seriously. And I'm not going to date a girl who just goes to church for or because of me. It's only going to work if we both go to church for God, and share that common approach to life. Somehow these girls just don't get it. I suppose they think that God isn't important to them, so this really isn't important to me (which, of course, doesn't make any sense, because in my profile I specifically state that God is central to my life). Alas, more attention from girls that do not interest me. There seems to be a lot of that these days. But the ones I want attention from are nowhere to be found.

Where am I?

I just got back from a 3 week vacation this past Saturday. The vacation was quite necessary. It was great to just get away from things for a while, see old friends, adventure with close friends, visit my college church, hang out with my pastor, and just love on some people using some muscle and sweat. It didn't all turn out quite as I had planned, but I think I made the best of it.

When I finally got home Saturday night, I was absolutely exhausted. It felt awesome - I was overwhelmed to be back in Princeton, but relieved as well. That night I slept like a brick, and woke up with plenty of time to make the 10:30 service Sunday. I was still pretty cooked Sunday night, but then something really freaky happened.

I was sleeping like a brick, when all of a sudden, in the middle of the night, I woke up. It was almost pitch dark, but I could faintly discern the outline of my surroundings. And I had absolutely no idea where I was. Now I have had similar experiences, but much less intense. This night, my heart started racing, and I felt almost a panic stirring in my chest as I wondered where on earth I could be. For some reason I thought my buddy psychlist was also in the room (probably because I spent many a night sleeping inches from him in a tent, and several more in his apartment). Then I started to wonder why I didn't have any clothes on with someone else in the room (I do like to sleep naked, but not normally with others in the same room). Of course, I was in one of those dreamy stupors brought on by deep sleep, and that just made the puzzle of my whereabouts that much more confusing and disconcerting. My very location and orientation within the room made little sense to me. I didn't have the slightest clue where I was, and that is a frightening thing to face.

It felt like forever, as I disconcertingly tried to ascertain my location, but it was probably only a few minutes before I finally realized where I was. A huge wave of relief went through my whole body. I was "home", whatever that means. And I was alone. It took me several more minutes to calm down, and then I passed out again, in peace.

Ghost Runner

Tonight, when I arrived at the gym, the rain had seemingly passed, and there appeared to be some moonlight to be had, so I decided to do a night run. It turned out to be a good run, although incredibly humid (currently at 97%).

Around mile 4, I started up one of the steepest hills of the route, when a runner suddenly appeared out of the dark coming directly at me. He came into view out of the black so fast it startled me. He was shirtless, with a white fro, running at almost full speed, breathing very hard, with wild eyes. He looked almost feral, running as if filled with fear. A couple minutes later, I turned down a dead end street, to do a loop, when out of the dark, the same shirtless runner came at me again, from the dead end of the street! It's simply not possible that he looped completely around, ran down the street, and was headed back out in the short amount of time I took to get to this street. It was absolutely bizarre. Deja vu of the creepiest sort. I call him "ghost runner".

Realize

The newest Colbie Caillat single, Realize, is a great song. It's a little understated, with her folksy acoustic guitar vibe, but I really dig the way the lyrics fit so neatly into the melody. The other day, I wanted to listen to it at work, so I looked it up on YouTube and saw the music video for the first time. Wow, they really nailed this song with the video - especially the ending. I don't think there is much that is more romantic than someone waiting on the doorstep for you.

The Cleaning Lady

This past Saturday, I was driving home from downtown Princeton, when I decided to get some comfort food, because I was in some sort of a funk. After leaving CVS with chocolate squares in hand (dark chocolate, of course), I got back in to my car, which was parked directly in front of a bank. The bank building is kind of modern - it's a fairly small building, one story, and two of the four walls are all glass. Once seated in my car, I looked up, straight into the bank through one of the window walls, and noticed that there was a cleaning woman in the bank.

Here it is, Saturday night, at 9:30, and this young lady is cleaning the bank. And she was actually doing a really thorough job, too, even lifting up the phone and papers to dust under them (I wish our cleaning people did half that much). And on top the day and hour, this woman was actually quite pregnant - I'm terrible at judging this sort of thing, but she looked pretty big to my eyes. I'd guess 8+ months.

I started to feel slightly guilty for being in a funk. My problems are silly. Here is this woman, working on a Saturday night, pregnant (I started to wonder about her - is she married, is her husband employed, is the guy even around), and doing a really bang up job. I'm not sure I would clean under the phones on a Saturday night, especially if I was carrying an almost full-term baby in my belly. I watched her for a few minutes, but I think she noticed me staring at her. I didn't want to make her uncomfortable, so I drove off, but the whole thing stuck in my mind. It was beautiful in a way, and sad, and comforting, and humbling.

Here's to you, cleaning lady - all the best with the baby and everything!

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Now playing: Blessid Union of Souls - I Believe
via FoxyTunes

No Such Thing

I woke up this Sunday morning rather early for me - 8 AM - to a surprisingly sunny and blue sky. I was surprised, because I thought for sure today was going to be rainy. Checking the forecast, I learned soon it would be a dreary, rainy day, and so I decided, despite my fatigue from a hilly 5o miler on the bike the previous day, that I would go running before the showers set in. I had, after all, been a bit neglectful of my running shoes the past couple of weeks since the Broad Street Run (where I ran an unexpectedly quick 1:06.29 - 10 miles at a 6:39 pace). Anyways, my run was from home, so necessarily hilly, and I found my legs quickly filling with lactic acid and feeling quite heavy.

When I finally got home, I was starving, but only had enough milk for one bowl of cereal (not enough food at all!), before I rushed off to church. After church I was pretty deliriously hungry, so I set off for the Princetonian Diner, where I knew I could get some quality breakfast fare with good sized proportions. I wanted company, but in the end I guess I turned out ok, because being just 1, I was able to get a seat at the counter without having to wait with the rest of the crowd. The guy next to me mumbled something about not being able to think straight because he hadn't eaten anything today and had gone on a 15 mile bike ride. I mumbled back in agreement, because I was fairly knackered myself after yesterday's ride and my hilly 7 miler a few hours before, and only had one thought on my mind: the Desperado (two fried eggs on top of a skillet full of sliced potatoes, peppers, spicy sausage, cheese, and salsa).

And the meal was extremely satisfying, but my favorite part of brunch had nothing to do with the food. My waitress walked up to me while I was single-mindedly shoveling my brunch away, and asked, "are you an actor? People keep asking me, and they are calling me on the phone." Or something like that - I'm not really sure what she was talking about. Maybe I should have pretended to be someone famous, but I'm not sure I'd play the part well, so I unfortunately had to dispel her hopes and tell her I was no such thing. The guy next to me said I could have at least gotten a free meal out of it. But honestly, having someone mistake me as an actor, however wrong they may have been (I never found out who they thought I might be), was satisfying enough. I guess if I ever decide I want to go the 55 year old diner waitress route, I'll be fairly successful. Not sure how well that translates to the ladies I tend to like, though.

In other news, I have begun reading Pride and Prejudice again. I told myself I was going to read some nonfiction after Anna Karenina, but I find myself compelled to re-read P&P. I'm afraid it's not a good sign, but I should be able to breeze through it fairly quickly, I hope.

Desperado, why don't you come to your senses?
Come down from your fences, open the gate
It may be rainin, but there's a rainbow above you
You better let somebody love you, before its too late

A Concerned Fruit Consumer

Dear Maker of Dole Fruit Bowls,

I really like your fruit bowls, especially the Cherry Mixed Fruit ones. I eat one almost every day as a snack in the afternoon. Those cherries really make a difference, too. You guys do a great job of putting just enough cherries in there so that you can get one for each spoonful.

But we need to talk about your packaging. Maybe it's just me, but every time I try to open one of your bowls by pulling back the plastic covering, I inevitably spill some. That's right, your bowls gleak syrup on me every time I want to eat one. And it's not like I am new to this either - I've been eating these things for over a year now. I try hard not to spill, but it's really just impossible. It's almost like you guys are rigging the things on purpose. It's not like I'm going to stop eating your delicious little fruit bowls, but I'd really appreciate it if you guys made an effort to make your bowls a little less prone to spillage. It's really kind of embarrassing for me.

Thanks for looking into this, and keep up the good work!

Juno

Juno was released today on DVD. I try to only get movies I will watch several times, and Juno qualifies because it just felt like one of those timeless movies that is so deep and so light at the same time that you will keep coming back to it over the years to both stir and pacify the soul.

There are literally dozens of great lines from the movie, but this one, from Juno's dad, really struck me tonight:

"In my opinion, the best thing you can do is find a person who loves you for exactly what you are. Good mood, bad mood, ugly, pretty, handsome, what have you, the right person will still think the sun shines out your ass. That's the kind of person that's worth sticking with."

This sounds like a pretty amazing concept, but it seems a bit frightening, too. Almost like hero worship, like you can do no wrong in a person's eyes. I don't think that's what is meant though. Furthermore, love must require some level of effort. You cannot simply take someone's love for granted. But I think in the end, while you may have to work to keep a love afire at times, that certainly shouldn't be the status quo. If you are always working, and never sense what is described in this quote, maybe it's just not worth it. Everybody, I think, needs to feel loved just for who they are.

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Now playing: Matchbox Twenty - Long Day
via FoxyTunes

A dollar!

Today I found a dollar in the back pocket of my jeans. I've actually found that same dollar in my pocket for the past several days. I keep putting it back. I like repeatedly being surprised by it and feeling a dollar richer.

A strange farewell

One of the better managers I have worked with had his last day in our Princeton office today, before transferring to Europe. As I was saying goodbye, I remembered a funny comment he made a couple years ago.

See, I keep a lot of food in one of my cabinets at work. Mostly healthy stuff, like oatmeal, fruit, granola bars, and nuts. One day my cabinet was open when this guy stopped by, and he noticed my rather sizable supply of snacks. He paused for a minute, and then I'll never forget what he said: "Well, I know one thing about you. You are probably always regular." If you are going to do potty humor, that's about as classy as it gets.

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Now playing: Avril Lavigne - Hot
via FoxyTunes

I need a girl who wants to sing this to me.

Sleeplessness

I never was the type of person to suffer from sleeplessness. No matter what was on my mind, I could always get a good night's sleep. Even after fairly traumatic events in my life, I have always been able to fall asleep after, at most, an hour of restlessness. I always wondered what it was like to have something weighing so heavily on you that, despite physical and mental exhaustion, you could not manage to fall asleep. Well, I no longer have to wonder.

About 3 weeks ago, I experienced a few relatively sleepless nights. I was sick at the time, and also having girl troubles, but I wrote it off as simply being due to my illness. It got worse a few days later, plus I started taking Mucinex D, which happens to be a stimulant with potential side effects (I only learned later) including agitation, nervousness, and, as seems obvious with a stimulant, sleeplessness. But the girl situation had also worsened. Still, I simply thought the cause of my inability to sleep was the combination of emotional distress, a cold, and (stimulating) medicine.

But now I find myself writing a blog entry at 4 in the morning. I can't sleep at all. I got in bed exhausted, mentally, physically, and emotionally. And yet I couldn't sleep. It was a very strange experience. My mind wasn't even racing, as often happens when I'm having trouble falling asleep. My thoughts were vague and unfocused. Although they kept coming back to the same thing - the aforementioned girl, whom I had just happened to see this very evening for the first time in 2 and a half weeks. I suppose I was angry at first that I couldn't fall asleep. But there's no one to blame. It's just life, I guess - now I can at least empathize with others when they tell me they can't sleep. I just hope this is temporary. I'm going to be an absolute wreck tomorrow. It's the strangest thing though, because I am wide awake right now. I don't see myself falling asleep anytime soon. How can this be? The heart is a deep and mysterious thing, and I'm in a part of mine quite new to me.

Or maybe it was just the tiramisu...
(but I doubt it)


Because I don't get no sleep in a quiet room and...
The time when kindness falls like rain
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Now playing: Counting Crows - Anna Begins
via FoxyTunes

Pasta Sauce Shoes

Yesterday I went to the gym, per usual, and decided to do some grocery shopping post-workout. I arrived home probably around 10pm. It was extremely cold - wind chills probably in the single digits. Like every other knuckle-headed guy, I try to carry all of my groceries in a single load (with my gym bag, too, of course). I'm not sure if this contributed to the catastrophe, but it can't have helped. As I step away from my car, bags precariously grasped by my fingers (or fingertips), I hear an odd noise, but I figure it is just food stuffs shifting around. I mean, seems reasonable, as I am carrying 30+ pounds of groceries. Sadly, soon I am to learn what this ignored noise portends.

As I near the door, I hear a rip and smash. I realize immediately that one of my jars of pasta sauce has fallen through the sturdily constructed, unblemished, thick plastic bag the store has generously provided for me to safely and dependably carry my purchase home. Before I can make any more brilliant decisions, another jar falls to the ground - crash! At this point I do manage to muster the wherewithal to put the rest of my stuff down. However, I now have 2 broken glass jars filled with pasta sauce on the sidewalk. On top of that, it's like 15 feet outside my landlords door. I start thinking, "Man, my landlord has a lot of dogs. If they start trying to eat this pasta in the morning, all the glass could really mess them up."

So, for the next 40 minutes, I tried to quietly clean up all this pasta sauce and broken glass, on my hands and knees half the time, with a headlamp on my head. My hands were so cold, I couldn't really feel them, and was somewhat concerned that I was cutting them on the glass, but couldn't really tell in the dark, with my hands buried in red pasta sauce. (Luckily, no damage was done.) I was returning from the gym, so all I am wearing is semi-sweaty sweats over my gym clothes. And it's Antarctica outside! Plus I'm starving. I've had better evenings.

The next morning, I am packing my gym bag, and noticed that one of my running shoes is covered in pasta sauce from the debacle the night before. I am in a rush, so I through them in a plastic bag and head off to work. Tonight, I headed back to the gym. Upon changing into my gym clothes, I notice that I look pretty ridiculous with pasta sauce all over my running shoe (not to mention they are all red, which could be a little disturbing to some, not realizing it was just supposed to be part of the previous night's dinner). I try to clean them off, only to notice that - shocking - the pasta sauce is frozen to it, having sat in my car all day! So the next thing I know, I'm running on the treadmill, doing intervals no less, as pasta sauce is slowly melting off of my shoe. After my run, I proceed to the stretching area and begin stretching, only to notice that now the pasta sauce has completely melted and is now getting all over the stretching mat. And I can't be sure, but it seemed like a few people were looking at me with weird expressions, either because I'm dripping pasta off my shoes, or because they figure I have the baddest ass blister they have ever seen bleed through a shoe.

Epilogue: I did use one of the provided wipes to clean off my mat. And I managed to clean my shoe, somewhat. It is still red. And it smells like pasta.

Pets and People

I hear a lot about pets these days getting all kinds of modern medicines, and apparently joint replacement and other highly sophisticated medical procedures. There are people starving all over the world, and we are paying thousands of dollars to pump our cats full of high cholesterol medicine and joint replacement? PETA must love this - I mean, if a dog is the same as a person, they should be guaranteed the same rights to health care, I suppose. Maybe Hillary can throw in universal coverage for all our pets, too. For those rational people out there, how about we either let the cat deal with her hypertension, or put her to sleep, and send our money to people who desperately need modern medicine? You could save several lives with the money you were putting away for your dog's hip procedure, or you could provide your dog with a couple more years of frolicking and leave those other people to their own devices. What?

Sometimes I wonder...

Sometimes I wonder if people say or write things, almost like clues, as if they want you to know something they would never openly tell you. Or maybe they are just careless, or the message isn't intended for you. Sometimes I wonder if someone knew that you already know something they have done, if they would admit to it, maybe even apologize. I guess people aren't all that different from celebrities - you have to confront them before they admit to anything. Look at the Atlanta resident who really disappointed me recently. I was a big fan of this individual throughout college and really enjoyed the whole whirlwind. Quite an experience.

Just recently he confessed to some pretty horrible crimes only after being cornered by all of his associates. And now he is suddenly very apologetic - real sincere.

I guess you could be somewhat culpable for some one's actions if you don't take steps to prevent them from continuing. But then, who would have thought they would have continued? Sometimes changing something you don't want to forget is quite a hassle, after all.

Anyways, I'm not much for confrontation - I'm slowly learning you can't force someone to make a decision. I know enough, and the rest I may never understand. We all have to make our own decisions, and become them.

I will go in this way
And find my own way out
I wont tell you to stay
But I'm coming to much more
Me
All at once the ghosts come back
~Dave Matthews, #41

Today I went on a "recovery" ride after a tough 70-miler yesterday. I left the farm around 6pm, and traveled west, through farm country, towards the Delaware River. The landscape was picturesque, as the sun slowly approached the horizon over the gently rolling farmland. I spent a lot of time looking sideways at the corn stalks, now as tall as me on a bike, or the other various produce, now mostly fully mature. Looking sideways is a reliable way to hit a lot of potholes, but it's worth it, for the most part, minus the really jarring wheel-eating holes that threaten to blow a tire or send me to the ground, making short work of my shaved legs.

After a brief warm-up, I started to feel pretty good, so I pushed the pace a bit, especially on my return - also somewhat motivated by the fast approaching dusk. I was surprised how good I felt - my legs were spinning very smoothly, and before long, I found myself losing track of everything. I started experiencing those lapses in time, like when you are driving a long ways, and then suddenly you snap out of some distant place, only to wonder how you got to where you are, and how you managed to stay on the road and not end up in a ditch or plastered to a tree. Supposedly you are really just hypnotized, and the driving, or in this case pedaling, has just been relegated to some part of your subconscious, as you drift off into daydream land. But I wasn't just cruising along casually. At one point, I snapped out of it to realize I had just been out of the saddle, hammering up a curvy hill, and my heart rate was around 170, nearly my lactic acid threshold. This wasn't some lonely drive on a straight, flat road, for hours on end - this was me, pounding the pedals, working hard, and yet completely zoned out. It was rather odd, and while I pondered this, I slipped into my hypnotic state once again.



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Now playing: Counting Crows - Anna Begins
via FoxyTunes

Miles from Coltrane

There's this great John Mayer song called Comfortable. It's only on his live release, so you probably don't even know it, but it's a great song. It's about moving on from one girl to the next. He is still stuck on his old girl, and reminiscing on some of her finer points. There is this great line about the ex: "you could distinguish Miles from Coltrane." What an awesome line - that's my kind of girl. And honestly, it isn't that hard - Miles Davis plays the trumpet, Coltrane the sax. A little concentration should allow most people to make the distinction.

There's another great line in the song, too: "I love you, gray sweatpants, no makeup, so perfect." Word. But in the end, he can't get over the old girl. "I want you back" he sings. Then again, good things may be yet to come.

Woody Woo

The other night I wandered about the Princeton campus. I love it - it's so beautiful, and cold, and warm, and strong. It fits almost any mood. I love to walk along the path that goes through the building with the outdoor square at the center, giving this strange feeling of being both in- and outdoors. Once you leave the square, you are confronted by the "chapel" that is more like a small Gothic cathedral. It's terrific on the inside, and magnificently towering from the outside. It brings back memories of the cathedral in Freiburg that I spent many a night walking around or sitting at and pondering all variety of things. I walked along the pool outside of the Woodrow Wilson building (i.e. Woody Woo), and even found the building itself appealing. Now I know I must be in a funk, because normally I think the thing looks like a monstrosity. I liked the campus that night because most of the students are gone, so it felt very empty and private. I found myself getting mad at the people who passed by for disturbing my aloneness with the campus, and yet at the same time I felt a million miles away from each person I passed. You know that mood when you are holding your lover, and you want to hug them, squeeze them so hard. You can't seem to squeeze them hard enough - it's not that you want to hurt them, just that you want to get them so close that you are one with them. It's not a sexual thing - just a desire to be so close to someone that you don't know where they end and you begin. Yeah, it was one of those nights.

I walked around the campus again, tonight (twice in 3 days, and I would've last night if not for the sudden shower). I went back to Woody Woo and watched people splashing around in the pool and fountain. The temperature was perfect with a slight breeze, and everyone seemed so relaxed and peacefully joyful. I couldn't help but laugh for no good reason, despite my funk. I even liked Woody Woo again. What is happening here? I couldn't stand it before. I guess we do change.

When I got home, I looked up into a beautiful star filled sky. Then I noticed the fireflies. Absolutely amazing - so many of them all around me. It's like tiny little lightning storms all around you. It was one of those moments you just want to share with someone because it's so cool, with the twinkling stars and fireflies.

Those songs

You know those songs that just click? You love how they sound, but the lyrics also sink right into you. There is this fantastic song by Nickel Creek called "Somebody More Like You" that does just that for me. It's about a former girlfriend - got a tinge of bitterness, but seems well-wishing in the end.

There's this John Mayer song on his new album, Continuum, that's like that, too. The song is awesome, and the lyrics just blow me away. Man does it hit home.

Stop this train
I wanna get off
And go home again
I can't take the speed it's moving in
I know I can't
But honestly, won't someone stop this train?

He's doing some sweet stuff with his guitar. Nice pick'n'flick John.

It's just my opinion

I'm sure you've heard someone say that. "It's just my opinion." They say it in defense of their thoughts on the matter, but it's really a pretty paltry defense of one's point of view. Of course, if we are talking about licorice, or some other completely subjective matter, I suppose it's fairly defensible (what about in the case of wine - makes you wonder if taste is truly subjective). But for any matter of objectivity, it's a pretty poor basis for holding an opinion. Essentially, all you are saying is that what you believe is what you believe. Wow, thanks for that insightful little tidbit.

I was reading this interesting article in the Princeton alumni magazine about this class being taught by Robert George and Cornell West. Sounds like an amazing class. In the article, George says that you can't really hold an opinion until you can give a complete argument for the other perspective(s). And he's dead right. If you think you are right, but don't even have a clue what the other side is saying, how on earth did you come to the conclusion that you are right? I'm not sure if it's intellectual laziness or hubris (we think it, so it must be right), and it's likely a combination of both. But the next time you are in a debate with someone, and you can't even articulate their point of view, perhaps you should do a little more listening and a little less arguing.

Self-image

I was talking with a friend last night and somehow the conversation veered towards trying to understand why people, often in large numbers, do bad things. The conversation began with the topic of cyclists. As you may well know, many of the best cyclists in the world have admitted or been implicated in a huge doping scandal. I'm now pretty convinced (sadly) that almost all of the top stage race cyclists (e.g. Tour de France) cheat, including our cancer-surviving hero Lance Armstrong (mostly because everyone who could even kind of keep up with him cheated).

But why do so many people cheat? Maybe it's just a few sour apples? Well, then I started thinking about the whole Nazi mess from WWII. Thousands of people were involved in the detaining and ultimate murder of millions of Jews. Many tried to use the now famous "Nuremberg defense" that they were only following orders. (In cycling, a similar argument might be, "everyone else is doing it, so I'm not really cheating, I'm just staying competitive" - and they have a point).

One year at college we had a speaker who came to talk about genocide. He was a christian, and one of his premises was that we are all fallen sinners. He didn't make this point especially clear, but it permeates everything he was saying. Some people are comforted by the "Nuremberg defense" because then you don't have to believe so many people did horrible evil. Instead, you can simply believe it was a few, horribly twisted people at the top of the chain of command. This speaker countered this argument with another example - Rwanda. Now you have hundreds of thousands of people involved in chopping people to death with machetes and such. Now you can't make the argument that it was just a few people up top and the rest weren't aware of the impact of their actions. It doesn't get much more in your face than hacking someone to death. Go watch "Hotel Rwanda" sometime - the whole thing was so twisted it makes you just want to curl up in a ball and denounce the human race.

So how do we deal with the fact that so many people are willing, in fact have committed, such heinous crimes? I read an article this morning in Newsweek that tied it all together really well. It's all about self-image. The article states: "People resort to denial when recognizing that the truth would destroy something they hold dear....'The more important the aspect of your self-image that's challenged by the truth, the more likely you are to go into denial'". I would surmise that most people have a very strong self-image of being a "good" person. Good people don't do bad things, especially horrible things. But maybe we aren't all as good as we think. Is there something demonstrably different about Germans, or Rwandans? Sure, culture and history play a role, but I think to be honest, we have to admit that they are just as human as we are.

If we asked most people if they are capable of participating in genocide, they would emphatically say no. But if they are no different from Rwandans, that can't really be the case, right? I'll give a less terrifying example. When surveys have asked people if they think they are smarter or better looking than the average person, some ridiculously large percentage of people say they think they are above average. But, for those of us who understand the concept of "average", that's not possible (unless there are some absolutely heinously ugly people dragging down the average - I don't buy it). Half of us are less beautiful and less intelligent than the other half. And I think many, most, maybe all of us are capable of horrible things. I think if we revisit our past, there are things we have done that hurt other people. Sometimes it was intentional, and sometimes we just didn't care. I know I have done bad things in the past.

I'm not proposing that we all think the worst of ourselves. I think this would be counter-productive and wouldn't be a true self-image either. But maybe we aren't as good as we think either. Maybe a realistic self-image would include a belief that we really are fallen sinners. And maybe owning up to this, in conjunction with some self-reflection, will actually make us "better" people in the sense that by becoming more aware, we will be less likely to do things that hurt other people because we realize we, I, can do evil, and thus I must be on the lookout. Otherwise, our self-image of being a good person will lead us into denial. Something along the lines of, "I am good, so I can't do something bad. Therefore, what I am doing isn't bad." Now that's frightening.

Jersey: Part 1

I've lived in New Jersey for 2 years, and I still don't get this state. Granted, I live in Princeton, which isn't really Jersey from a purist's perspective, but I'm certainly not in Virginia anymore. I guess I figured New Jersey would be something in between Massachusetts and Virginia (in the cultural sense - I'm aware it actually is geographically).

One of the strangest things I have noticed is how people behave with shopping carts. Where ever I have lived, Virginia or Massachusetts, the vast majority of people would return their shopping carts to one of those fenced in cart depositories in the parking lot after loading their car. In fact, in Germany, all the carts actually lock together. To get one, you have to insert a Euro, and in order to get your Euro back, you have to neatly replace your cart once you have completed your shopping.

But in Jersey, people just leave their carts where ever they load their car. Sometimes they stick the front wheels up on a curb so that it doesn't roll away, but that's about the extent of the effort expended by the majority of people. The first time I pulled into a shopping center, it was kind of bizarre to see the parking lot littered with carts. Having never seen something like this, I just figured something out of the ordinary had happened, like a freak hail storm. But I was soon to learn that this was the modus operandi for people in Jersey (or at least the Princeton area).

Maybe this is normal in other parts of the country as well, but based on my experiences, it is pretty localized. I really just don't understand it - there is a reason they put those cart depositories in the parking lot. Now the Wal-Mart employees, or whoever, have to wander all over the parking lot collecting carts, instead of getting them, already (somewhat) neatly stacked from their depositories. But this presents somewhat of a dilemma. Most people are leaving their carts all over the place, so what difference do I make if I actually return my cart to the proper location? I mean, the workers will still have to wander about the parking lot collecting carts, so what is one more that they will almost necessarily have to walk by anyways?

Nevertheless, this whole concept of leaving your cart wherever you feel like strikes me as somewhat selfish and lazy. Now I confess, I am only about 50/50 these days, but when I go home, or basically anywhere else, I am sure to return my cart. Otherwise, I will be disturbing the social order. At least when I don't return my cart in Jersey, I make sure to place it in between cars. Some people literally just leave them where ever they feel like, maybe even in the out of the way of a parking spot. Now granted, their location is not inherently fixed, so they may be rolling around, especially if it's windy or the parking lot is sloped. Which brings me to another point - it's somewhat dangerous - I'm just waiting for some little girl or old lady to get slammed by a runaway shopping cart and have an arm broken or to fall down and break a hip. Or, heaven forbid, some one's BMW 7-series get a fat dent in the door. So maybe I'll try to improve my 50/50 shopping cart returning habit. I don't want Jersey to seep in too much, after all.

Spring Rain

So I've decided to post the lyrics to the one song I've actually completed (more or less). It seems appropriate for the season:

"Spring Rain"

Why do I play these games
I'm just tryin' to find you
My head is spinnin' in circles
I'm holding so tight to nothing

Chorus:
And you girl
Just like spring rain
You girl, cold but you're warming
You girl, sending shivers down my spine
You girl, feel like summer coming

Was Helen really worth,
Clearly you never saw her smile
Just a glance transfixed Paris
Meet her eyes and all is lost

Chorus:
And you girl
Just like spring rain
You girl, cold but you're warming
You girl, sending shivers down my spine
You girl, feel like summer coming

I know, you're pretty unlikely
But how can I know, standing over here
I'll walk over, see what you're thinking
You probably won't give a sh*t, but I'd rather be sure

Chorus

Here I'm sitting, staring at the wall
I'm missing someone I don't even know
It's been quite a day, and I can't think straight
And I'm wishing I was in your arms

Photogenic

I'm sure you have heard someone whisper, jealously, "she's just so photogenic". Some of us even hide from the camera because we simply think we aren't photogenic. But we've also probably heard, or come to the realization, that's it's not just that we aren't photogenic. There is something behind being photogenic - beauty. But I think I may have taken it too far - some people simply do look better on film than they do in real life, and presumably the reverse. I realized this when I was looking at some pictures of someone I know. She is a good looking girl, but almost always looks terrific in photos. Something about her shape makes her appear even more attractive in pictures. I suppose this is why people often say movie stars don't look as good in person. Two dimensions just don't capture everything in the three dimensional. But still, the "I'm just not photogenic" excuse gets old after a while.
But perhaps most importantly, there should be a noun for photogenic, like "photogenocity".

April Fools

After seeing, and almost falling for, several April Fools websites, Google takes the prize this year:
http://www.google.com/tisp/. I was about to inquire into their new, "free", wireless internet, when I read a little closer.

I watched "Thumbsucker" today. Solid movie - Keanu Reeves even did a good job (who knew?). Although not as laugh-out-loud as "Little Miss Sunshine", I think it was actually a deeper, more exploratory film about the "human condition" (I hate that phrase, it's so postmodern, but it's growing on me nonetheless). And yes, this is a very postmodern movie - not to give it away, but Keanu Reeves' character's dialogue at the end sums a lot of the movie's premises up rather neatly (too neatly?). Of course, I'll give the writers some extra credit here, because at the end of the same dialogue, he also alludes to the underlying absurdity/contradiction of postmodernism - namely, that a rejection of objectivity is a rather challenging position to take, especially when you must maintain the objective position of there being no objectivity. But I digress - it's a great ride, and points out that no one really has it all down, and sometimes people suck at communicating and relationships, but underneath it all, they are trying really hard.