Saturday, March 12, 2011

No One Man Should Have All That Power

I do love this man:
I say that without embarrassment or reservation. He is amazing. When I first moved back to Utah, one of the first social things I did was go up to Salt Lake to watch BYU play Utah. I watched him hang 32 points in the first half, including a half-time buzzer beater from about two steps in front of the center line. Maybe you've seen it. Oh you haven't? Well here's the youtube link:
You're welcome. (I realize there are multiple other videos, but the title and soundtrack of this one struck my fancy, so it got picked). Let me tell you a great story about him and about Wingers.

I love the Wingers. Nothing new there. Been to it at least a dozen or so times since moving back, and probably creeping up on the 50 mark in my lifetime. For the game on Friday night, a group of us wanted to go somewhere and watch it together. Our first choice just so happened to be the first choice for about half of Provo. Hour and a half wait when the game starts in 20 minutes? No thank you. Thankfully, we called over to Wingers and they said they could have all ten of us seated about 10 minutes into the game. Bless their souls.

So, we get there, and about half the mall is standing in their waiting area watching the game. People were standing outside the place watching through the window. We were sitting down within 4 minutes of game time. Amazingly, in those four minutes, The Jimmer had already poured in about 16 points. For those who don't follow college basketball, an average player score about 10 a game. A good player scores about 18 a game. A great player scores about 22 a game. Jimmer - 28.5 a game, average. Leading the nation by a wide margin. So, to see him go off for a quick 16 wasn't too shocking, but it certainly was delightful.

It should be noted that the Jimmer had tried to eclipse his own BYU single game record of 48 a couple times that season. He went off for a couple big first halves, but then either didn't the touches, or the minutes to get to the elusive 50 mark. Well, Friday night, he swished a three to get to 47 with about three minutes remaining on the clock. Next possession, he drives the lane, and gets fouled while putting up an off-balance shot.

It drops. 49 and a trip to the free throw line. (First and only free throw attempt of the game mind you. He just is not getting any foul calls any more, and it has lowered the number of times he takes it to the hoop. Effectively eliminated his slash and kick game.) He buries the free throw, and the entire place erupts. I've been in sports bars during big games. I've gone to the local eatery to watch the big UFC fight. Nothing compared to the noise and commotion I witnessed at a Wingers, over a Mountain West Conference semi-final game. Loudest non-stadium sporting event I've ever been a part of.

When coach Rose decided to pull The Jimmer with about 20 seconds or so left (he made another jumper to finish with 52), the entire restaurant gave The Jimmer a round of applause. Yes, we realized that the game was being played some 400 miles away, and that no matter how hard we clapped, he would never hear it. Doesn't matter.

Ask me if I stood while I clapped? You know I did. After a performance like that, I had to. It's like if I saw a pitcher throw a shutout, or someone hit for the cycle. You just have to let them know how positively pleased you are that they personified excellence. They don't know who you are and never will. They don't take in all the individual people's expressions of gratitude, but they do feel the cumulative effect, and I want to chip in what I can.

Can't wait for the brackets to come out. Truly giddy about our chance to make it to the Sweet Sixteen and, fingers crossed, beyond.

Word.

Thursday, March 3, 2011

Turn Around, Look At What You See

Here it is. #100. You've been waiting for it, and I've been.... too busy to put it together. When you work about 55-60 hours a week, things get a little busy. Now, how does one work that many hours? Glad you asked. I'm a little excited to brag about the fact that I'm gainfully employed, because well, I haven't been at a 40 hour a week position since that one month right after I graduated where I moved to Arizona and worked for Countrywide/Bank of America. Do you realize that since that time, I've lived in three different states, and two different countries? That's how long it's been since I worked a 40 hour week.

And let me tell you, it is an adjustment. I come home and am pretty tired. Ask me what time I went to bed last night. 10:30. Not even kidding. And slept like a baby until 7am. It was heaven. I don't get to do that often because I have to fit the other 15-20 hours of work in. I'm also going to be the MCAT teacher for Kaplan starting in a couple weeks. Right now I have a training program to go through that is pretty hard core. We have to prep the material as though we were teaching the class, and then teach the other instructors in training, as well as our instructor. For the record, I did score well, but that was nearly five years ago, and I've had to re-learn a good chunk of that material. Hence, the long hours of prep for a 4 hour training meeting.

But yeah. That's why it has been over two weeks since the last post. I wake up, go to work, come home, eat some dinner, and then if there isn't FHE/BYU basketball/Stake basketball, I'm probably studying the Kaplan material before watching a movie and going to bed. I know. Try to hide your jealousy. It's embarrassing me.

In the meantime, I dream of Baseball. Ok, maybe not always in the meantime. Maybe right in the middle of things. Maybe I did check to see when the White Sox played in Oakland, the only stadium west of the Rockies that I haven't been to yet (May 13-15. A weekend. I'm this close to buying tickets already. The Saturday game is also Mark Ellis Bat Day. Talk about my wheel house.). And maybe I did check and see what would be a good weekend to shoot over to Denver to watch the Rockies. What of it?

I do love me some Baseball, and now that Spring Training is in full swing, it's like the sun coming out of the ocean. At first, you can't even see it, but the horizon goes purple, letting you know that it's on its way. Then, you notice a point due East that takes on a red and then orange hue. By now, you can't even speak, for fear that you'll miss that magical moment where night unequivocally becomes day. Finally, the ball of fire emerges from the sea, and light scatters everywhere, making the world new again.

That's like Opening Day to me. It just makes every other part of life a little bit brighter, and little bit better. Colors are more vibrant. Girls are more attractive. Apple pie is more... well apple pie is always awesome, but it does become slightly more awesome. Baseball makes the world go round. That's a scientific fact.

And now, it once again is upon us. And once again, I have lain down the gauntlet, challenging all comers to test their wits and steel against mine. Much like Atreyu just before Fantasia fragments due to the nothing, I stare at you and say "Come after me Gmork!" I will vanquish all challengers to my throne. It's just what I do.

So get your game face on. Crunch your numbers. Your picks are due by noon Eastern time on March 31st. That's less than four weeks away. Think about what Beckett's concussion like symptoms will mean to the already shaky Boston staff. Think about how Adam Wainwright going in for Tommy John might effectively end the Cardinals hopes for the playoffs. Think about how losing Cliff Lee puts the Rangers division hopes in jeopardy.

And know that I've already spent time thinking about these things while you were sleeping.

Come after Gmork! I am Atreyu!

Word.

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Tell Them Anything You Want To, Just Don't Tell Them All The Truth

Call me insensitive, but when one of my friends takes a tumble, I laugh a little while helping them up. It should be noted I help them up, but it is always noted that I laugh a little. Now, if you're lucky enough to ever see me stumble around, then you know that I will actually laugh about the situation before I hit the ground.

Now that you understand that I laugh at pretty much anything that goes unexpected, you must realize how absolutely fantastic I thought the stake speed dating activity was this past Valentine's Day. I mean, I don't think it could have gone any better. At least for me it went great. I didn't make any sort of romantic connections, and didn't once think about asking for the other person's number. Maybe my heart is a little frozen, but after three minutes of light conversation, I don't feel in a position to ask for a phone number. Truth be told, I make it a point to wait as long as possible before asking for a girl's phone number. For instance, I knew Raechel for almost a year, stopped by her place dozens of times, and hung out with her about the same amount. Didn't take down her phone number until a bunch of us went down to Cali for Jake's wedding. I don't know why I do this, I just do.

That's not the point though. The point is that during the 'speed dates', I knew from word one that I would not be asking for the girl's phone number. Not that I didn't sit across from some interesting or attractive girls, but more that I've learned that any relationship intended to last beyond the first date, typically has more lead-up time to that first date than three minutes.

After the hour or so of musical chairs, I found out from some of the girls that some of the guys were not of this mindset. Some guys were at least honest enough to ask for them. But one guy pulled the what-type-of-phone-do-you-have?-Can-I-see-it-for-a-sec? maneuver. It's bush league all the way, but the gambit is designed to let the girl hand you her phone for seemingly harmless reasons, and then you call yourself from her phone. Thus getting her number, and giving yours in one simple, sneaky movement. Again, bush league. Amateur hour stuff. Never done it myself, never plan to.

The best part of this, was that this move was completely new to the victim. Bless her heart, but she was stunned first and foremost that this was an actual ploy. Then she was aghast that it actually happened to her. Me? I laughed. I still laugh. And I'll laugh when he calls this week asking for a date.

You've seen the laughing, now for the helping. After telling the girl about this dirty trick, I told her that if she needed an excuse to get out of his date invite, I would co-sign and take her out. There's your help. I'm not evil, I just really like to laugh and find things funny. Life's too serious without it.

Would I ever plan a speed dating activity after witnessing that event? Almost certainly not. Would I attend one if I knew that my female friends were going? Almost certainly yes. They always end up with the funniest stories. You can chalk that up because guys are generally more willing to push the envelope just to see if something will happen. And more often than not, that something that does happen, is a hilarious story for me. I'll help the girl hide from the idiot, dance with her if I see the fool approaching, and even agree to a pre-determined story to help her out of a dreadful night with the dope. But don't be surprised if I'm smiling or chuckling while I do it.

Word.

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Ice Down That Igloo Cooler, Tank Of Gas That Oughta Do Her, I Can Feel A Good One Comin On

Out of the gate, congrats go out to Mitch for winning the jar of salsa in last week's 1st Annual Super Bowl Prop Bet Contest. What makes it even more astonishing is that he won despite picking that Fergie's skirt/pants would go below her knees. He went 8 for 10, including that blunder. Impressive. That's how you take home the salsa.

Second, sometimes, you have to attend a super bowl party that has TV cameras show up. What? You didn't. Boring. They came because our buddy's commercial had the chance of airing. His was the Dorito's ad where the guy sucked the cheese residue off the other guy's finger. Neither of those guys are my buddy. My friend is the one that lost his pants in the last segment. And now he's a big deal, because his commercial led off the second commercial break of the super bowl. The TV crews interviewed him and then shot a bunch of B-roll of everyone there. It was pretty cool to see myself and my friends on the local news. And even cooler that it wasn't related to any criminal activity. Someone let my mom know I picked good friends. She'd be proud to know that.

Third, and easily most important, Pitchers and Catchers report in less than a week. I'm positively giddy because Baseball Tonight is airing right now. I genuinely believe that every time baseball tonight rolls, the temperature goes up 0.1 degrees wherever I am. You may think that doesn't matter, but I assure you, just as every game in the season counts, so does every bump up the thermostat. Plus, if you're throwing them away, I'm snatching them up faster than a hungry hungry hippo.

It also means the dawning of the 3rd annual 'Rick Russell knows more about Baseball than I do' competition. The wager will still be the same: you put up a single dollar bill upon which you write "Rick Russell knows more about Baseball than I do", joined by your signature, and I'll give $50 for whomever the winner is. I feel obligated to tell you that the house has taken home all the chips the past two years, and has no reason to believe that this year will be any different.

To give you schlubs a little better chances, I'm making it even simpler this year. In past years, I asked you predict the amount of wins for each team. Now, just determine their final position in each division. For each correctly positioned team, you get 5 points. Sweep a division, that's a 10 point bonus.

Playoffs are still involved as before. Correctly pick a playoff team: 5 points. Get their Wild Card or division champ designation right: 5 points. AL/NL champ: 10 points a piece. World Series winner: 20 points.

Individual awards still matter, so we're going to keep the All-star starter nominations, but, in further efforts to simplify, eliminate the triple crown categories and instead go with ranking the top three for each MVP/CY. Essentially, I'm just asking you to pick the best player at each position, and then the best three overall. I don't know how simpler I can make this without asking what color the laces are on the ball. (Red).

So please. Take the time this year. You've got 50 days until the first game. Put some thought into this, because I only have so much wall space to hang your tributes to my Baseball supremacy. And, maybe, just maybe, you can get lucky enough to sneak one past me.

Doubt it.

Word.

Thursday, February 3, 2011

As For Me I'd Like To Thank My Lucky Stars That I'm Alive And Well

I'm fixing to have some Panda Express with Mike, and I realized that I can't remember the last time I had Panda. Very excited about this development. Note: This will have very little organization. Sorry.

After spending a little over a month here in Utah, I'm really glad I made the decision to move out here, rather than stay in Florida. Yes, it is so cold that I have actually counted my fingers to make sure I still have ten. And yes, I do miss having playable golf courses 20 minutes away. But beyond that, every category indicates that I made the right decision. There are jobs here, there are friends here, there are girls here and there are sports here. And that may or may not be a prioritized list.

Most certainly though, the fact that there are job opportunities out here is at the top of the list. I am a man with expenses. I like things like a roof over my head, and food on my plate and an occasional fun dip or bag or tootsie rolls. High Maintenance? The highest. And you get what you pay for. I've been fortunate to field a couple of interviews so far, but nothing definite yet. Still waiting to hear back from one of the companies, so fingers are crossed. Personally, I expected to be hired by now (I know, shocker that I thought highly of my own abilities), but I kind of understand that some companies might be hesitant to take on a risk on me. I don't have the best work history, due in large part to pursuing medical school, and some people might think I can't handle their work load.

Pure rubbish. Either way, they make the decisions, I wait for them to do so. That is the game, and I must play.

On to things with less suck: Pitchers and Catchers report in 11 days! I know. Very exciting. Soon enough, I'll have to plan a trip down to Arizona for spring training, then BYU and UVU will open their seasons, then the Owlz and Bees, and then I'll make some pilgrimage to a pro ballpark. I can't think about it for too long, or I'll start pulling up calendars and schedules, checking to see when the optimal times are.

Also, I have landed a part-time teaching job with Kaplan. I'll be teaching their MCAT prep course starting this March. It's a two nights a week thing, so it's essentially some nice extra pay without interfering with my prospects for a full-time job or B-school. Speaking of B-school, got my GMAT scores back a little while ago, but I don't think I posted the results here. I did well. A 710 (92% percentile). Not as high as some of my practice scores, so I was a little disappointed, but not too much. It should be high enough to get me accepted, but after the med school fiasco, I have little faith in a test score's ability to offset anything.

What I am really excited for is the Super Bowl. Not the game really, but the party inherent to the game. Again, give me a reason to talk with people around a lot of food, and I'm going to take it 9 times out of 9. Throw in a sports event, and I'm all over it. So this is a great thing. To make it better, I'm thinking about having everyone come in and some friendly wagers. Not on anything as trivial as the winner of the game, point spread, or over/under, but on the important things like: What will Fergie wear during the half-time show? How long will Christina Aguilera's National Anthem be? How will the first touchdown be celebrated? You know. The stuff that really matters. I think I'm going to try and get a big poster board, list the wagers, and then print out head shots of the known guests and have then tape their picture on which sides of each line they want. Winner gets... a jar of salsa. Medium, not hot. I know, high stakes, but it is the super bowl. So, the handful of you people who both read this, and plan on showing up at my place for the super bowl, start pondering whether Ryan's commerical will be Dorito's 1st, 2nd, or 3rd of the night, or not shown at all. Weigh out whether Ben Roethlisberger's or Aaron Rodger's girlfriend will be shown on first. Try to figure out how many times the announcers will say "Brett Favre". There's a jar of dip on the line.

Word.

Sunday, January 16, 2011

Never Let Your Praying Knees Get Lazy

Gave a talk in church. Figured I'd get a little more of my spiritual on in this forum, so I'm just pasting it in here.

Do you have hope, or are you just hoping?

[Sacrament talk, 16-Jan-2011]

Growing up in Florida, I had the advantage of being able to play any sport at almost any time of the year. In fact, right now, the little league baseball season is starting up. Spring was always reserved for baseball, fall was for soccer, and summer was for avoiding heat stroke. Winter was a mythical season where, supposedly, trees lost their leaves, snow came from the heavens, and people wore scarves. None of those things ever made sense to me.

What did make sense, was playing outside, and playing sports. Didn’t matter what the game was, I wanted in. Take the ward activity this past Thursday. If my dazzling stick handling didn’t already tell you, that was my first time ever playing broom hockey. Bruises aside, it was a blast. Every time the ball came my way I hoped for two things, first, to hit the ball, and, second, to not fall down. Some times I got both. Sometimes only one of the two, and a couple times, the ball kept rolling on by as I rolled over on the ice. In my defense, Broom Hockey is not front page news in Florida. In fact, there’s only one ice rink in my county, and I think it closed down a couple years ago. What’s everyone else’s excuse?

Thankfully, the bruises were only skin deep. I’ve been fortunate throughout my life to never have anything worse than a couple of bruises here or there, in spite of my best efforts otherwise. My brother on the hand, he’s had more than his fair share of problems.

When we were young, we lived in a house that had a big grapefruit tree in the backyard. Just past that tree was the canal that we would go fishing or boating on. It wasn’t too wide, so we often would take the grapefruit that had fallen off the tree and had begun to rot, and try to throw them onto the vacant lots across the water. We weren’t big kids, so we really had to give it our all to make the throw.

One afternoon after school, my older sister and I were in the house watching TV when my mom asked us if we had seen our little brother. We hadn’t for a little while, so we starting looking around the house for him. It didn’t take long for us to realize something was wrong. My mom kept searching around the house, knowing that she would find him. Eventually, this hope led her to think about looking in the backyard. She ran out to the water’s edge to find my brother floating on his side. Seven months pregnant, she jumped into the canal while my seven year old sister called for an ambulance. Thankfully, my brother came around with no complications, and he, my mom, and future little sister, were all fine.

Now I bring these two stories up to illustrate the difference between the hope I had during broom hockey and the hope my mother had looking for my brother. The first hope was anything but a sure thing. I practically fell down my first step on the ice, so adding a swinging motion certainly wasn’t going to help my balance. The second type of hope was rooted in something much more substantial. My mother expected to find him, and surely she did.

The difference between these two hopes is the difference between how all too often the word hope is used today, and what the scriptures imply when they use the term. For example, when Aaron taught the Lamanite King, “If thou wilt repent of all thy sins, and will bow down before God, and call on his name in faith, believing that ye shall receive, then shalt thou receive the hope which thou desirest” (Alma 22:16), he wasn’t wishing for the King. He was telling the King that if you are repent and believe, you will get what you desire. Aaron removed all doubt from the equation. The hope in the scriptures is one devoid of doubt, and it is this way because of its foundation.

The common saying goes “hope springs eternal”. The only way for this to be true, is for hope to be based on something eternal. Brothers and sisters, this hope, true hope is always built upon the atonement of Jesus Christ. Pres Uchtdorf has said that “Hope is a gift of the Spirit. It is a hope that through the Atonement of Jesus Christ and the power of His Resurrection, we shall be raised unto life eternal and this because of our faith in the Savior. This kind of hope is both a principle of promise as well as a commandment, and, as with all commandments, we have the responsibility to make it an active part of our lives.”

In the same address, Pres. Uchtdorf delineates between things we hope for and things we hope in. He stated that we have hope for an eternal peace and everlasting progression in the life to come, so long as we are obedient to the commandments. He taught that we have hope in principles of the gospel that keep us pressing forward each day. Things like the goodness of our Heavenly Father, the assurance that prayers are heard and answered, and the blessings of the Holy Ghost are things that we have hope in. Despite their differences, both spring from a hope concerning the Savior.

It is His atonement that grants us the opportunity to receive the eternal peace promised to the faithful. It is through Him that we pray, and by His priesthood are our answers given. This hope, much like faith, is of things that can not be seen, but are nevertheless true. We can rely on it when times become hard, and when the road becomes dark.

“Thus,” as Elder Neal A. Maxwell said, “real hope is much more than wishful musing. It stiffens, not slackens, the spiritual spine. It is composed, not giddy, eager without being naive, and pleasantly steady without being smug. Hope is realistic anticipation taking the form of determination—a determination not merely to survive but to ‘endure … well’ to the end.”

Moroni shows us how this anticipation can buoy us up even in dire circumstances. In Moroni chapter 7, he records the words of his father Mormon. Amidst a flight from the warring Lamanites, Moroni reviews his father’s teaching on hope, giving us a template on how a hope in the atonement can bless not just our lives, but the lives of those around us.

“Wherefore, I would speak unto you that are of the church, that are the peaceable followers of Christ, and that have obtained a sufficient hope by which ye can enter into the rest of the Lord, from this time henceforth until ye shall rest with him in heaven.” (Moroni 7:3)

After watching his entire civilization pass away, Moroni was able to draw strength from his father’s hope and assurance in the power of the atonement. Much in the same way, we are able to look to our leader’s hope, and have our outlook brightened.

In October 2008, Pres. Uchtdorf shared a story concerning hope that teaches us that even in the dreariest situations, our hope can help us through.

“Toward the end of World War II, my father was drafted into the German army and sent to the western front, leaving my mother alone to care for our family. Though I was only three years old, I can still remember this time of fear and hunger. We lived in Czechoslovakia, and with every passing day, the war came nearer and the danger grew greater.

Finally, during the cold winter of 1944, my mother decided to flee to Germany, where her parents were living. She bundled us up and somehow managed to get us on one of the last refugee trains heading west. Traveling during that time was dangerous. Everywhere we went, the sound of explosions, the stressed faces, and ever-present hunger reminded us that we were in a war zone.

Along the way the train stopped occasionally to get supplies. One night during one of these stops, my mother hurried out of the train to search for some food for her four children. When she returned, to her great horror, the train and her children were gone!

She was weighed down with worry; desperate prayers filled her heart. She frantically searched the large and dark train station, urgently crisscrossing the numerous tracks while hoping against hope that the train had not already departed.

Perhaps I will never know all that went through my mother’s heart and mind on that black night as she searched through a grim railroad station for her lost children. That she was terrified, I have no doubt. I am certain it crossed her mind that if she did not find this train, she might never see her children again. I know with certainty: her faith overcame her fear, and her hope overcame her despair. She was not a woman who would sit and bemoan tragedy. She moved. She put her faith and hope into action.

And so she ran from track to track and from train to train until she finally found our train. It had been moved to a remote area of the station. There, at last, she found her children again.

Brothers and sisters, by having a hope rooted in the atonement, we can have a bright hope for the future. We can with a surety hope that things will get better, in this world and the next. Hope in the gospel leads us to happiness, peace, and forgiveness. It was the prophet Moroni that taught, “Whoso believeth in God might with surety hope for a better world, yea, even a place at the right hand of God, which hope cometh of faith, maketh an anchor to the souls of men, which would make them sure and steadfast, always abounding in good works, being led to glorify God” (Ether 12:4)

That we all might strengthen our hope in the gospel, and see how that hope lightens our daily burdens is my humble prayer. In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

[Sit Down]

Word.

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

I Guess I'd Rather Hurt Than Feel Nothing At All

Recap of 2010 Resolutions:

  • Watch every episode of Jersey Shore and die laughing (Watched every episode, not all of them were great)
  • Consume my weight in granola bars every month (Some months yes, most no. Man can not live on Honey and Oat alone)
  • Eat at every restaurant on the island (If by every, you mean the handful that I frequented often, then sure)
  • Go to a gym (I did. And even ran. Twice. In a year. I'm a bit out of shape)
  • Acquire more random T-shirts (True, to the point I had to get rid of some to make luggage weight restrictions)
  • Be known as the king of something (Accomplished [King of Wii Fencing after I pioneered the "Windmill Attack"])
  • Review every class twice a week (Actually did this one. Pretty proud of myself about it actually)
  • Read the books I had on hand (Yes sir, except I haven't finished Pres Hinckley's Bio yet. It's very long and a bit dry)
  • Make better resolutions for next year...

All in all, I feel like a success looking back on the handful of goals I set out for myself. Some of you might bring up the fact that hardly any of those goals have any lasting impact or benefit. To those people I say...you're right. Beyond the reviewing and reading, they were all pointless. But they were still goals, and I still had to put in some effort to achieve each and every one of them. So we'll agree to disagree.

As for 2011, I see bright things in my future. Not so much the immediate future, but starting in a month or two, things are really going to start coming up Rick Russell. For this next month, it will be a deluge of essays and applications all over again for business school as well as preparing for the GMAT. If I'm not looking into jobs or going to the gym (more on that later) than there's a 90% chance I'm either sleeping or working on some sort of application. Nothing new, just another grind.

Now back to the gym. I've gone five times since Friday. That's more than the past 3 years combined (I can't know for sure, but I know I only went 3 times during the year and a half I was on the island, never for the year I was in Florida, I think I had already canceled my membership for the last semester I was at BYU, so it's certainly a safe assumption). Above all else, I realize just how far I've slipped. I hurt in all sorts of new muscles. Flexors on my shins scream at me. The levator scapulae are my sworn enemies after a couple laps swimming. And one set of chest flys provides enough radiant heat to render my jacket moot. Absurd. Nevertheless, I plan on riding this horse until it bucks me. Or until I have a job that forces me to change my workout schedule. I enjoy going at 7:15, when there is hardly anyone there to realize just how pitiful I am. Went the other day around 5:30... straight madhouse. There was a line just to be checked in. And I'm probably wrong, but I certainly felt like all of them were in better shape than I was. I prefer my failures private.

Other resolutions (yes I'm counting attending the gym more often as a resolution, and yes, I have already accomplished it) include:

  • Going on a date. It's been nearly a year and a half since I've been out on a one-on-one date. I have to imagine I'm rusty, and I know that I have little idea what is the social norm for someone in my current social stratum. Let's just hope dinner still works, because beyond that I would have no clue what to do.
  • Read the new books that I have. For Christmas, above all, I received clothes and books. I'm very pleased about this. It helps that I picked out all of said clothes and books, but that's not the point now is it.
  • Not get a speeding ticket. I figure it would be good to put down 12 consecutive months where I haven't had to sit through a defensive driving course. Check back in October to see if I succeeded. If I can get through September unscathed, I have a good chance.
  • Attend a Rockies game and one other team I haven't seen yet. The most likely other candidate, proximity-based, would be the Oakland Athletics. Any other team would have to be some stroke of luck and coincidence, like going to Milwaukee for the cheese festival and the Brewers happen to be in town. Either way, I've only got 11 teams left, and like Pokemon, I gotta catch 'em all.

So yeah, those are my goals for the next year. Additionally, I would like to secure a job within the next month, both as a mean of financial gain, and as a something in case B-school doesn't work out (which is a strong possibility given my rather light resume). Truth be told, if I found the right job, I have would have no problem postponing B-school for a year or even indefinitely. Right now, lot of possibilities are out there for me. I just hope some of them come through.

Word.