If You Ain't Been A Part Of It, At Least You Got To Witness

I feel like I'm stomping on my posts. Normally, I would put a new one up every two weeks or so. But for whatever reason, This will be the fourth in the last week. Insane output. Then again, when you have two flights over 5 hours apiece, and with Wi-Fi on the plane, it isn't too hard to figure out where I found the time to knock them all out. You give me a computer and five uninterrupted hours, like a seven figure contract from the Yankees, a new post will magically appear.

You see, I have to always be doing something. It's a blessing and a curse. For example: I grew up living no further than 6 minutes from the beach at any time in my life after the age of 3. Ask me how many times I went to the beach to lay out? Ask me how many times I went to the beach without bringing a board of some sorts? Zero. When I go somewhere, I plan on doing something, and the more athletic/competitive the better. This will partially explain why I am almost always not tan, despite the fact that out of the 52 weeks in a year, I spend 48 weeks on a tropical island and at least two weeks in Florida. I can't stand just laying still for that long, without falling asleep. (And I'm not going to fall asleep at a beach again. I got lucky the one time it did happen. Walking away from that table while I'm ahead.)

So, when I come home for Christmas, and have nothing to study, and no job to work, I start thinking of things to do. Maybe it's just me, but I enjoy making projects for myself to do and seeing how they turn out. It keeps me busy and feeds my sense of accomplishment. As a side bonus, by keeping me busy doing something, it keeps me away from spending money on things I don't necessarily need. (Like the 20+ DVD's I bought over the break. That doesn't include the ones I got as gifts. This is what happens when the local Blockbuster closes and all their inventory is $5 or less. I buy movies simply to have them. The Soloist. Hackers. Reality Bites. Yeah, they're all on the shelf now. It's a little embarrassing sometimes.)

This time, however, I actually had been working on a plan for a couple weeks. To further commemorate my White Sox 2005 World Series Title, I have begun collecting baseballs from that series, signed by all 25 members of the team, and Ozzie. It has taken me a while to track down the 15 I already have. Some of the players will be excruciating to track down. Luckily, I have already been able to pick up most of the back-ups at reasonable prices and a couple of the stars at below average. This might take me years to complete, but it gives me focus on my leisure spending, which I need.

This leisure spending has given me a new problem. These 15 baseballs needed a home. I can't just line them up on the window sill. That would be an insult to the baseballs and to the team. So I built this during the first week I was back.

I know. Pretty fancy, huh. The glare is coming off the piece of plexiglass that I fit into the front of the case. It slides out so I can add new balls when I find them. Or straighten that one out on the third row. I bought a WS Champion patch off eBay and it'll be going in the center compartment behind the mini-trophy. A shrine truly fit to commemorate world domination.

Also, I 'finished' a project that I started about six months ago. In my life, I've attended a lot of sporting events. No really. Between collegiate and professional matches, pre-season, regular season and post-season, I've probably been to over 300 sporting events. And that's a low estimate. A while back I starting making a conscious effort to save the ticket stub. I would put it in my wallet, and whenever I was bored or feeling a little down, I could go to them and remember the good times. I would pull out the one from Yankee stadium, and remember watching Jeter and A-Rod take at-bats, or hear Rivera come out of the bullpen. I would look at the Twins game where Santana dazzled the opposition and the crowd. The Cubs spring training stub, where I got to see the great Leon Johnson before he made it big. (What do you miss most about him?)

Unfortunately, the stack began to be thicker then the rest of the wallet, so I had to take them all out. (As luck would have it, I lost that wallet not even a month after I pulled them out. I would have been catatonic if I had lost them. I could have cared less about the wallet, but those are things I can't replace.) For a while I wondered what I could do with them.
Then I remembered my roommate from Arizona. Cool guy. Not into sports really at all, but the man was deep into the music scene. He had been to more concerts than he can remember. So what he did with his ticket stubs was ingenious. And I copied him.

It hangs over my bed now. It contains tickets from games as far back as 1998 and as current as last week. And I love it.
Word.

This Whole Situation Is Incredibly Typical, I Should Have Seen It All Along

Flying back to Florida right now. Delta is treating me right. Wireless Internet and directv in the headrests. Not bad flying accommodations. Only two regrets: 1, That I didn't charge the battery all the way, and 2, That the tv doesn't carry fox so I can't watch the sugar bowl. Basically, I watch the scroll on espn waiting for updates. It's not too bad, but I still have no clue how Florida botched the extra point after the first touchdown.
Looking back on the trip and it can only be described as successful. Truth be told, I have been thinking about whether or not I could make living in Utah a permanent thing. Mostly, it was to gauge my thoughts on cold weather climates. I grew up in an always warm region, and never experienced the cold until college. A backlash was inevitable. That, and no one likes having to walk through snow.
However, living in the climate challenged St. Maarten, I learned I wanted some seasonality in my life. The question was how much could I handle. First couple days did not buttress Utah's case. The last couple days more than made up for it though. The biggest difference was simply the sky. I couldn't stand it when the snow was coming down or when the clouds seemed to be really low. Made everything seem dreary. I don't do dreary. Once the skies cleared, 30' didn't feel so bad. The ice wasn't out to get me. It was a different world.
I'm sold. Of course, that doesn't matter much because I won't have an opportunity to freely relocate for another four years. But after that, I might have to point my wagon to the west and set up shop in the Rockies. Yes, it will still be cold, and yes, I will complain every year about it, but it's better than senses dulling monotony.
Do I even need to expound on the relative dating situations? No. I don't.
Since we're on the subject though, let's talk about dating. More specifically, let's talk about m
Mike's current issues with dating. Why Mike, you ask? Several reasons. First, because he has a situation and I don't have anything close to one. Second, I feel his plight is worth talking about. For the little tykes (Carder I'm looking at you) ear muffs. I'm not going to get crazy, but the term douchebag and it's various conjugations, will be heavily featured.
Why do so many girls knowingly date douchebags? Can anyone explain this? I understand the initial attraction of the rebel or dangerous guy. I get that. Heck, I try to use it in small doses. (Don't crucify me. We all know I can't sustain it beyond ten minutes, and it's pretty mild anyway.) What boggles the mind is why the girls stay with them, even after it is evident that the douchebaggery is never leaving. You want to know what you will never ever ever ever see? A guy sticking with a douchebaggy girl for more than three weeks. Won't see it. Ever. Ever. No, never.
Why? Good guys realize that a character trait that ingrained may attract your attention, but will never sustain your affection. And they cut bait. (It also should be noted that for girls, douchebaggery and craziness are synonyms. A guy will put up with some crazy at the beginning if he thinks it will quickly abate. If I doesn't, it's on to the next one.)
But that's the difference. Girls will stick with the dbag long after it's clear that it will never clear his system. And this is what leaves guys like Mike, and myself from time to time, in a fix. Too many good girls who think either that they can change the dbag, or worse, that they don't deserve any better. The second one, frankly, troubles my soul.
The first one irritates my reason like having peanut butter and jelly but no bread. It just makes zero sense.
And yet, it is a scene played out over and over in the courting community. As long as there are douche's and good guys in the same area, there always seems to be a quality girl making an absurd decision to go for the former even though she knows she should go for the latter. Ridiculous.
Word.
(Odds Mike reads this: 9 to 2 against. He would have to find it first.)

I Wish That I Could Fly Into Sky So Very High

Watching star trek while experiencing turbulence definitely adds a new wrinkle to the film. However, there were two things in the movie that pleased me. First, they brought back the meaty arm slap as a means of saying hello between two guys. Love it. It just might have the ability to replace the fist bump. I like the fist bump, but feel that it has run its course. The meaty arm slap is fantastic.
Also, it soothes my soul to think that even thousands of years in the future, sabotage by the beastie boys will still be around and in moderate rotation. That is one of those songs that should endure millennia. Simply flawless.
It got me thinking though about what songs I would want preserved for posterity. Obviously Sabotage would front the list. Born to run would have to be on the list. (side note: had a professor come back from a Springsteen concert. Painfully, half the class had no idea who Springsteen was. My jaw fell so far, it almost hit the cadaver. Inexcusable. I blame their parents a little. Not much though.)
She loves you would be the entry from the beatles, just as satisfaction would represent the rolling stones. Say it ain't so, for me at least, is a song that divides people into two groups: those that like it, and my enemies.
I'll also grab superstition, and something recent like cry me a river (I don't think I have ever skipped that song. Ever. Plus, this past decade or so has been so pop heavy, I wasn't left with a lot of revolutionary songs.). Also, give me California love. Always gets everyone on the dance floor.
That's eight deep. Not enough for an album, but a good start. Any suggestions? Got to get at least to twelve to make a respectable set list.
Word.
PS. Posted at 10,000 feet. Believe it.

You're Frozen When Your Heart's Not Open

Christmas has come and gone, and for all those wondering, yes, the tootsie roll bank made a triumphant return from it's year long hiatus. I do love those chocolate morsels. Like oreo cookies love milk.
Also, it means that the impending, possibly becoming "the annual", New Year's Eve trip out to Utah is upon us. For how much I hate the cold, and don't kid yourself, I really hate being cold, I'm thoroughly looking forward to this. And here's a short list why:
1. Wingers. Bar none, favorite restaurant. It did supplant Outback, although Outback still retains the "favorite restaurant where you feel slightly under-dressed wearing a T-shirt and jeans" title. I buy their sauce by the bottle, and put it on the McDonalds/Wendy's dollar chicken sandwiches. I'm telling you, you can't go back once you do this. No seriously. I tried eating one without the sauce and it was so bland I had to stop halfway through and get the sauce out of the fridge. I'm bringing it down to my rock for sure. The only question is how many bottles. International travel allows me to check two bags for free. There's a good chance that I might have one of them be solely Wingers' sauce.
2. The cold. Let me know when your head wraps around that. Ok, I'll clarify. I like coming in for only a handful days, getting a taste of it, enjoying what little things in it there are to enjoy, and then getting the heck out of it for the next 360 days. It's like watching "Roots" just to remind myself how good I have it. (Thank you Christopher Turk). Seeing the bad lets me know just how good I have it. For example: Ten day forecast for Provo has highs ranging from 27-37. For St. Maarten: 79-80. Fantastic.
3. Old friends. (Maybe I should have listed this one first, but retroactively we'll say that the list is not in favorite-order.) I do enjoy the people that I have met at Med School. I thoroughly enjoy most of them and look forward to meeting others. However, nothing replaces old friends. The memories, the inside jokes, the knowledge that you know them possibly better than they know themselves, and that they know you in the same way. Can't beat it.
4. New Year's Eve. Celebrating New Year's Eve in Florida has its perks, but it doesn't beat being around 100's of LDS people who are just out to have a fun time. If you haven't experienced it, I would recommend it.
So yeah, I'm pretty stoked about the trip. I'm about 73% of the stoke-age that I would be for Baseball's Opening Day, which, for something non-sports related, is ridiculously high. If you're going to be in Utah, drop me a line. I have a new cell-phone number which there is no chance of me posting it on this blog, but let me know and I'll get the number to you through some information outlet.
Bring a jacket. 27 is cold enough to make you forget your name.
Word.

There Were Days When The Sun Was So Cruel That All The Tears Turned To Dust

I have a few personal axioms which have treated me very well. For example, early on I realized that cheese and/or bacon is always a good idea. No, think about it. Just about food served hot can be improved upon by adding cheese and/or bacon. I've done the testing for this. It's science. In fact the only way to make bacon better is to wrap it in another strip of bacon. And the only improvement of that is to melt cheese on top, and wrap another slice of bacon around it in the third direction. I call it Ambrosia, because it is food fit for deity.

Another one has been if it isn't announced or referenced on Sportscenter, I generally don't need to know about it. Sportscenter tells me who the newly elected president is. They let me know that the economy is having difficult times (unless you're Randy Wolf, the newest incarnation of Gil Meche. Definitely raising my sons to be lefties. There is no downside to this. None.). This is why I don't watch a lot, if any, news shows. I just don't need to. I get all my news spliced in between LeBron dunks and Pujols blasts.

However, I'm abandoning one. It has served me well, but it has been proven inaccurate. I never thought I would say this, but I kind of miss the cold. Now, don't misunderstand. I don't miss slipping on ice. I don't miss having my fingers and toes numb. I don't miss having the gum I leave in the car become 17 foil-wrapped pieces of blue slate. And I certainly don't miss watching my car spin out, glancing another car, a month and a half after I bought it.

I do miss the cold though. Mostly, I miss how it silently marked the passing of time. When the first snow came, I knew that Thanksgiving was coming and then the semester would soon be over. It also told me that I should really think about studying. It also was a subtle reminder that Christmas was around the corner and I should start thinking about gifts for the family.

Growing up in Florida, cold meant putting on a sweater. It meant I couldn't wear shorts anymore, and that maybe I should put on one of my two long-sleeve shirts. But at least it was a change. It broke up the 8 months of heat and reminded us that global warming hasn't taken full effect yet.

On this rock, it's mid-December, and still 80+ outside. It's very unsettling. My calendar tells me Christmas is two weeks out, but the sweat on my brow makes me think it's six months away. It's absurd, and I can't take it anymore. This four month hitch has swayed me more in favor of living in a colder climate than any other experience I've ever had.

So, this New Year's, like last New Year's, I'm trekking back up to Utah for the festivities. This is
starting to become an annual tradition that I'm perfectly fine with. I'll have to dig my coat out of storage and remember to pack a beanie, but I'm going North and I'm going freezing.

And I'll try my best not to slip.

Word.

Clowns To The Left Of Me, Jokers On The Right

I need to say this because it needs to be said first. I'm not going to elaborate on it, because I would just rather let it go then rehash it. About a week or so ago, The Girlfriend and I broke up.
It wasn't easy, but we're both handling it well and moving forward. I realize some people may want to know more, but tough, they're not getting it.
(Abrupt Topic Change)
A family in the branch, one of the few, are leaving the island for good later this week. It's sad to see them go, but I understand, and am mostly sad because they get to return to a place where convenience is celebrated. A couple days ago, they gave me a large bag of candy. I can only assume that the contents are Halloween leftovers, but candy is candy, and it's only been a month max. Candy, especially hard candy, holds for months, and probably could hold for years, but I tend to eat it before it reaches that point.
The best part was the inordinately high jaw-breaker to other candy ratio. It had to be slightly better than 1 to 1. Thing about that. For every piece of Double Bubble, you also have a jaw breaker. Every caramel-apple-on-a-stick thing, another jawbreaker (You can tell I don't know how to write that word because I've already tried it three different ways and feel completely neutral on all of them.). It's fantastic. Why you ask? Because next to Tootsie Rolls and Caramels, jawbreakers have to come next in the pantheon of candies. They're a fantastic item. I mean, if you like your candy to have a consistently sweet taste, and to have it crank out that flavor for at least 30 minutes, than you're a jawbreaker fan.
I grabbed one heading out the door to class the other day. It was purple, and I got really excited because you just don't see a lot of purple ones. It also seemed to be a little bigger than normal, so I was even more eager to let it roam around my mouth. I popped it in, and the sky gathered darkness. A jawbreaker it was not. It was gum. And not good gum by any definition. Did it have flavor you ask? No. None. Could I blow a decent bubble with it? Less tension than Manny Ramirez on a day off (Then again, I'm not completely sure if Manny knows he even has days off. I just think he knows that sometimes he goes to the ball park to hang out and other times they ask him to see the ball and hit the ball.). The quality was so low, it stuck to my fillings. And I have more than my share of those.
I could not dispose of it soon enough. I was duped. Thought I was walking into paradise, wound up in torture. Then, last night I had the same thing happen again. Now I need to preface this next part a little bit with some personal history.
It's no secret I love Boy Meets World. If there was a test on all Boy Meets World knowledge, I could walk in right now and score a minimum of a 94%. I'm like 3 standard deviations above the average knowledgeable on the life of Cornelius Matthews. But more than that, I have grown to love the various side characters, like Franky the Enforcer, or his brother Herman. Fantastic. One of the tragic tales is that of one Stuart Minkus. You might remember him from season one, and his brief spot in the graduation episode of season 5. He was the nerdy guy who, for a school project, planned out the rest of his life, down to the corporate maneuvers he would make and the SEC paperwork that would need to be filed in order to accomplish them. He also had planned to marry Topanga, before Cory was even really interested in her. Well, we all know how that turned out. Thankfully, he was young enough that he could bounce back.
For unknown reasons, he relocated from the Philadelphia area over to a quaint town in North Carolina called Tree Hill. He also changed his name (and why he went from one to the other, I'll never know, because he didn't exactly trade up) to Marvin McFadden, and had acquired the nickname 'Mouth' by high school. He was no longer a lanky, stereotypical nerd, but also wouldn't be considered a top flight socially desirable specimen. He was just an average guy.
He however, was cursed with women issues here as well. One of the first girl's he likes, winds up really liking one of his best friends. Another girl essentially uses him, and then cuts him loose after a night of passion. A third has him on a string for years, but is always selecting others for ill-advised reasons. However, one came along that was a great fit for him. She was good looking, smart, funny, and a great match for his personality. Things had been going great for them for the better part of two years. Now however, she's become a cocaine snorting model who is so self-absorbed that she's throwing every friendship and relationship to the side.
It pains me to see the every-guy get trampled like this. I thought he was safe, which in turn gave me hope for things for me. But the rug was pulled out again from under him, under me, under us all. Why?! Why?! Hasn't he suffered enough? Let him enjoy one relationship in peace.
Lee Norris, aka Stuart Minkus aka Marvin 'Mouth' McFadden... I feel for you. Keep your chin up. Things will get better.
Word.

And She Can Transform Like Optimus Prime

I was watching Saved By The Bell the other day, and it got me thinking. How did Slater get his classic fro-mullet hybrid to become the wavy doo that he sports today? There is no way his hair just magically changed overnight, right? So one of them has to be fake, and the other real. Which of course, leads me to which is which? Also, if his real hair is the wavy style, at what point in the Saved By The Bell casting process did someone say, "Well, that hair looks fine, but you know what would be better... a mullet! No, wait, a mullet made of a mini afro! How can that not sell his uber-heterosexual, all-state in four sports character?"
The only rational argument I've been able to pull together is that Zack had wavy hair, and so for those people who still might have been using a black and white tv, they had an easy way to separate the three main males. Then I thought, maybe it was an early 90's thing. Maybe, but no. Name me one other character from that era, (or any for that matter) that also sported the fro-mullet? Nothing for you either, huh. Interesting.
Do you think Slater (I refuse to call him by his real name, solely on the premise that names don't get much A) cooler, or B) appropriate than Slater was for his character. If you're named Slater and built like he was, people clear paths just at the sound of your name.) looks back and regrets the cumulative days he spent in the hair salon getting a perm every week? (How frequent would he need to have this re-done? I understand it's called a perm, but how long before his roots grew out and over threw the curly ends? And talk about and ugly transition phase. He would almost have to shave it all off and let it completely regrow.)
Also, did I spend a whole post talking about Slater's hair? Yes. Yes I did.
Word.