ADMIN UPDATE:
OK, OK...I know I dropped the ball by not posting this earlier last week when Jenn posted it to her You Tube channel page...I guess I am no longer in the running for Blogger's Admin of the Year award...so without further waiting, here is the first of what we hope will be many Vlogs that will give y'all a more personal look into her day to day experiences and what's going on in her life...Enjoy!!
Or if you need a direct link, click here!
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Thursday, May 22, 2008
The Wheels On the Bus…
Lately it feels like my life has become one giant race circuit. I do a lap around the country, only to make a pit stop in Tampa. With a fresh batch of clothes, a restocking of supplies, and few nights in my own bed, I head back out on the road. If you blink, you might miss me. But I have never found myself too busy to be a real friend to the people I care about, especially when they needed my support. Whether it’s a bite to eat, or a quick workout at the gym, I make sure to give my friends and family as much time as humanly possible, because I miss the familiarity of faces as much as anyone.
My travels aren’t all woe is me. They have actually given me opportunities to meet and become friends with people I would have never had the opportunity to do so otherwise. Throughout my high school career, I had many meetings with my guidance counselor Richard Peak. It’s not like I was depressed, or eating my feelings, or eating nothing at all, or having issues with the Mean Girls… I just wanted, well.. guidance. Sure, my parents are well rounded, intelligent people but sometimes I question the validity and relevance of their advice as it applies to the times I live in. I mean, when my dad was dating.. I’m pretty sure “Grease” was still the word, and not yet a hit musical. And my mom was such the good girl that she really didn’t deal with the douschebaggery that plagues most of today’s dating scene. So, I found a great confidante in Mr. Peak. He was just that cool adult that got today’s generation, and did it without being “that guy.” Some of the best advice he gave me was a story about a bus.
He told me, “Jenn, life is like a bus… and you are its driver.”
Me? I was like.. “Clearly you have never seen my driving Mr. Peak, or you would know I could never be a bus driver.”
“No, Jenn,” he said, “Life is like a bus in the way people enter and leave our lives. You see, some people will get on and only go for a few stops. Not because they don’t care, but simply because it was just a natural progression in life’s journey. Then, there are others that get on and ride til the very last stop. Those are your true friends. You have the right to choose who can come along on your journey. And the others that try to drive from the backseat, annoy the other passengers, and try to prevent you from getting to your destination??? Well, you let them know that their pass to ride your bus has expired.”
This past weekend found me retracing my father’s steps, and brought me back to the city of Indianapolis. Though I was there mostly for work, the weekend turned out to be much more therapeutic and enlightening than anything else.
The city of Indy is not only home to my family roots, but also home to one of those influential figures you meet along the way… Will Carroll. Will joined my journey about two years ago when the two of us were slated to work on a project together for a television network. And though our business venture didn’t quite pan out, an amazing friendship did. He and his wife have been through some tough times with me, and have played a major role in my evolution as a young adult. Sounds corny, sure.. but maybe I’m looking for corny in my life.
As most of you can tell, the journey I have been on for the past three years has been both extraordinary and disheartening. MySpace can’t possibly have an emoticon for every feeling I have experienced, nor could most shrinks explain them to me. The random series of events that have transformed my life have brought into it some amazingly interesting people. From the professional athletes, to the high paid producers, to the creepy club owners, to the sexually explicit shock jock, and of course all the places in between. But I have never been one to judge someone solely on society’s stereotypes. Instead, I have made my own judgments only after getting to know them. I’d like to think I am a pretty good judge of character. Very few fakes slip past me, and the ones that do… well, it will never happen again. I pride myself on knowing people. I mean, I “get” people. I’m extremely relatable, personable, and considerate.. all while being brutally honest and forthcoming. I just believe in treating every person the way I want to be treated. If they don’t reciprocate… well, it’s their loss.
It’s not easy knowing a person’s true motives for being your friend. Why do they want to hang out with you? What’s in it for them? Are they a truly genuine person? Sad to say, most of them aren’t. Not to say that these people are rejected by society because I am sure someone somewhere can call these types of people “friends.” I mean, whatever floats your boat guys. But at the end of the day, if a person isn’t there just to share in my experiences, and be there for me as a true friend… well.. their pass for my bus doesn’t usually last for more than a few blocks. Hell, they are lucky if they don’t become road kill because while I may break for animals, I certainly don’t break for crappy people. After all, you are judged by your associates, and I don’t need people out there that will tarnish my name, and I don’t need people to reflect their questionable behavior on me. So why waste time on the fakes and the phonies? The people that want you for something other than just your unconditional friendship??.. With my time as limited as it is, I’d rather not waste a single second with someone that doesn’t return the value of my friendship back to me. I’m tired of wasting time, money, effort, and energy on anything but the real deal.
The power of the internet has had as great of an influence on my life as my travels have, in that I have met many of good friends and acquaintances on here. From the Warchant.com Locker Room, to networking sites like Facebook and MySpace, I have managed to meet tons of new faces, and share a good laugh or cry with many of you. I’d even say we’re “friends.” Hell, some of you are more loyal than the people that see me on a regular basis. Don’t think I don’t appreciate it, because I always give you the utmost respect, and help out/respond when I can. I mean, I’ve never lied to you, or lead you astray about who I was.. because well, what kinda friend would that make me? I have however, been candid about my life, my experiences both good and bad.. and admittedly sometimes a glass case of emotion that would make even Ron Burgundy a bit jealous. But that’s who I am. The brutally honest girl. The straightshooter that isn’t afraid to tell you how it is. So if you’re reading this, odds are you chose to stick around for a few more blocks. And for that, I am eternally grateful. Because while we may never meet face to face, you will always know that I have been nothing but myself with you. I’ve been unconditional. I’ve been honest. And isn’t THAT what being a friend is all about?
While most people think of Indy as a city of fast cars and Super Bowl Champions, I think of Indy as a safe haven. A sanctuary of sorts, where I can gather my thoughts, my emotions, and my strength, all with the help of a few good friends. It felt good to feel wanted, accepted, and appreciated, but it felt best to know that it was 100% genuine. So while the rest of the city was going 230 mph around me, my world hit pause and let me find myself again.
Will and his wife are just two of those people you meet along life’s journey. There are countless other friends that have stood by me to face the critics and the music when everyone else chose to turn their backs. Sara is my superhero, constantly saving my ass on occasions too numerous to count. Roger is my defender to bloggers, haters, and the people that choose to attack me without warning or purpose. Drew is my cheerleader, constantly trying to tell me that people will be better than the really are, but yet is always optimistic they will change. Ash and Yenly are my personal jesters, who are always good for a laugh, and are guaranteed to give me a case of the hiccups. Serena is.. well.. as brutally honest as they come. And Will and his wife, are the pioneers that taught me.. I should never settle for anything less than what I deserve. There are countless other friends that have taught me things both about society and myself, and for this they are always welcome in my life. With my family at my back, and my friends by my side, I’m pretty much a force to be reckoned with.
Some say it takes a village to raise a kid. Well, for me?.. It’s more like a bus. The seating may be limited, the ride may hit a few bumps, and sometimes you’re lucky if you can barely hang on to the bumper… but I promise you it will be a journey to remember. After all, true friends aren’t just there when things are great. They are the one’s that stick around when things are anything but.
And I’m just lucky enough to have some great friends that chose to stick along for the ride.
My travels aren’t all woe is me. They have actually given me opportunities to meet and become friends with people I would have never had the opportunity to do so otherwise. Throughout my high school career, I had many meetings with my guidance counselor Richard Peak. It’s not like I was depressed, or eating my feelings, or eating nothing at all, or having issues with the Mean Girls… I just wanted, well.. guidance. Sure, my parents are well rounded, intelligent people but sometimes I question the validity and relevance of their advice as it applies to the times I live in. I mean, when my dad was dating.. I’m pretty sure “Grease” was still the word, and not yet a hit musical. And my mom was such the good girl that she really didn’t deal with the douschebaggery that plagues most of today’s dating scene. So, I found a great confidante in Mr. Peak. He was just that cool adult that got today’s generation, and did it without being “that guy.” Some of the best advice he gave me was a story about a bus.
He told me, “Jenn, life is like a bus… and you are its driver.”
Me? I was like.. “Clearly you have never seen my driving Mr. Peak, or you would know I could never be a bus driver.”
“No, Jenn,” he said, “Life is like a bus in the way people enter and leave our lives. You see, some people will get on and only go for a few stops. Not because they don’t care, but simply because it was just a natural progression in life’s journey. Then, there are others that get on and ride til the very last stop. Those are your true friends. You have the right to choose who can come along on your journey. And the others that try to drive from the backseat, annoy the other passengers, and try to prevent you from getting to your destination??? Well, you let them know that their pass to ride your bus has expired.”
This past weekend found me retracing my father’s steps, and brought me back to the city of Indianapolis. Though I was there mostly for work, the weekend turned out to be much more therapeutic and enlightening than anything else.
The city of Indy is not only home to my family roots, but also home to one of those influential figures you meet along the way… Will Carroll. Will joined my journey about two years ago when the two of us were slated to work on a project together for a television network. And though our business venture didn’t quite pan out, an amazing friendship did. He and his wife have been through some tough times with me, and have played a major role in my evolution as a young adult. Sounds corny, sure.. but maybe I’m looking for corny in my life.
As most of you can tell, the journey I have been on for the past three years has been both extraordinary and disheartening. MySpace can’t possibly have an emoticon for every feeling I have experienced, nor could most shrinks explain them to me. The random series of events that have transformed my life have brought into it some amazingly interesting people. From the professional athletes, to the high paid producers, to the creepy club owners, to the sexually explicit shock jock, and of course all the places in between. But I have never been one to judge someone solely on society’s stereotypes. Instead, I have made my own judgments only after getting to know them. I’d like to think I am a pretty good judge of character. Very few fakes slip past me, and the ones that do… well, it will never happen again. I pride myself on knowing people. I mean, I “get” people. I’m extremely relatable, personable, and considerate.. all while being brutally honest and forthcoming. I just believe in treating every person the way I want to be treated. If they don’t reciprocate… well, it’s their loss.
It’s not easy knowing a person’s true motives for being your friend. Why do they want to hang out with you? What’s in it for them? Are they a truly genuine person? Sad to say, most of them aren’t. Not to say that these people are rejected by society because I am sure someone somewhere can call these types of people “friends.” I mean, whatever floats your boat guys. But at the end of the day, if a person isn’t there just to share in my experiences, and be there for me as a true friend… well.. their pass for my bus doesn’t usually last for more than a few blocks. Hell, they are lucky if they don’t become road kill because while I may break for animals, I certainly don’t break for crappy people. After all, you are judged by your associates, and I don’t need people out there that will tarnish my name, and I don’t need people to reflect their questionable behavior on me. So why waste time on the fakes and the phonies? The people that want you for something other than just your unconditional friendship??.. With my time as limited as it is, I’d rather not waste a single second with someone that doesn’t return the value of my friendship back to me. I’m tired of wasting time, money, effort, and energy on anything but the real deal.
The power of the internet has had as great of an influence on my life as my travels have, in that I have met many of good friends and acquaintances on here. From the Warchant.com Locker Room, to networking sites like Facebook and MySpace, I have managed to meet tons of new faces, and share a good laugh or cry with many of you. I’d even say we’re “friends.” Hell, some of you are more loyal than the people that see me on a regular basis. Don’t think I don’t appreciate it, because I always give you the utmost respect, and help out/respond when I can. I mean, I’ve never lied to you, or lead you astray about who I was.. because well, what kinda friend would that make me? I have however, been candid about my life, my experiences both good and bad.. and admittedly sometimes a glass case of emotion that would make even Ron Burgundy a bit jealous. But that’s who I am. The brutally honest girl. The straightshooter that isn’t afraid to tell you how it is. So if you’re reading this, odds are you chose to stick around for a few more blocks. And for that, I am eternally grateful. Because while we may never meet face to face, you will always know that I have been nothing but myself with you. I’ve been unconditional. I’ve been honest. And isn’t THAT what being a friend is all about?
While most people think of Indy as a city of fast cars and Super Bowl Champions, I think of Indy as a safe haven. A sanctuary of sorts, where I can gather my thoughts, my emotions, and my strength, all with the help of a few good friends. It felt good to feel wanted, accepted, and appreciated, but it felt best to know that it was 100% genuine. So while the rest of the city was going 230 mph around me, my world hit pause and let me find myself again.
Will and his wife are just two of those people you meet along life’s journey. There are countless other friends that have stood by me to face the critics and the music when everyone else chose to turn their backs. Sara is my superhero, constantly saving my ass on occasions too numerous to count. Roger is my defender to bloggers, haters, and the people that choose to attack me without warning or purpose. Drew is my cheerleader, constantly trying to tell me that people will be better than the really are, but yet is always optimistic they will change. Ash and Yenly are my personal jesters, who are always good for a laugh, and are guaranteed to give me a case of the hiccups. Serena is.. well.. as brutally honest as they come. And Will and his wife, are the pioneers that taught me.. I should never settle for anything less than what I deserve. There are countless other friends that have taught me things both about society and myself, and for this they are always welcome in my life. With my family at my back, and my friends by my side, I’m pretty much a force to be reckoned with.
Some say it takes a village to raise a kid. Well, for me?.. It’s more like a bus. The seating may be limited, the ride may hit a few bumps, and sometimes you’re lucky if you can barely hang on to the bumper… but I promise you it will be a journey to remember. After all, true friends aren’t just there when things are great. They are the one’s that stick around when things are anything but.
And I’m just lucky enough to have some great friends that chose to stick along for the ride.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
The You Tube Lecture Video making the internet rounds...again
ADMIN UPDATE:
Well, it's obviously that slow period between football major events...the NFL draft is over, college ball is entering that summer dead time before players "officially" report to school..god knows the NBA can't end fast enough for me and MLB?...yawn..wake me up in October for that one...or don't, I could care less..
That being said, it never ceases to amaze me how other people will then spend their spare time anyway. Apparently, one solution for these geniuses is to drudge up 2 year old You Tube videos and try to pass them off as new content!!
My Admin Gmail account has been hit these past two days with Google Alerts regarding Jenn and some bloggers reporting on this "incredible find". This particular video was posted Wednesday on one blog site as "new content". That of course got picked up by the mental giants at other larger sites and is now being reported in multiple places. While Jenn could actually give a crap about any of this, I, on the other hand, am significantly bored (see first paragraph above) and feel like responding. So here we go!
Lets start with facts....I know this concept is foreign to most of these bloggers and their fans, but...THIS VIDEO CLIP IS OVER TWO YEARS OLD! Don't take my word, go look it up on You Tube...Jenn wrote about it on her blog in April 2006. If you don't feel like reading that post, in a nutshell, here is what you are really seeing online:
1) She was invited, while still a student at FSU, to present an hour long speech and Q&A session to a student public relations class on the topic of "Representation of Women's Bodies in Cyberspace". The professor thought, given Jenn's personal dealings with her sudden rise to internet popularity while still a student, with the Maxim and Playboy issues being released that month, that she was in a perfect position to share her views and experiences with the class.
2) That same day, a reporter and film crew from the Tallahassee Democrat (the local newspaper) were following her around campus for a "Day in the life" segment about the local girl and the buzz surrounding the upcoming magazines being released.
3) When the Democrat heard she was going to do the class that night, they decided on their own to film the whole 1 hour event. What got posted to You Tube were small clips of the Q&A session where she was answering questions asked by other classmates. None of it was planned to be spread all over the internet. The Tallahassee Democrat posted these clips originally with the article that ran. They of course got posted to You Tube (and of course without the Democrat credit or logo, they were conveniently chopped off). Since all of this is over TWO YEARS OLD, the links on the Democrat website we originally posted are no longer active. But, since I'm a great Admin, I uploaded a copy of the original Tallahassee Democrat article for all to enjoy.
So it's that simple, and yes, that boring of a story. It's not some random announcement like the bloggers are posting. It's not a press conference about her boobs. It was a few minutes of clips of her talking about what kinds of things were happening to her back then, taken out of context and out of order. It's Jenn being honest and candid about her personal life, which, if you have read this blog over the years, is exactly what and who she is. The clips show a nervous college girl being asked to speak about her personal life in front of a large group of people for the first time in her life, all while being filmed by a newspaper to support a major article.
But hey, I don't want to ruin the fun of all the other blog sites out there...I'm fully aware much your site traffic explodes when you post an article about Jenn...and I'm sure you need all the Ad Sense revenue you can possibly generate...so have at it! We will keep posting the facts here, and on Facebook, MySpace and a few other online media ventures we will be pleased to announce in the months ahead...so keep checking back here for the true stuff...or be lazy like me and set up a Google Alert for Jenn, I can't keep up with her crazy posting schedule lately..:)
Oh well, time for me to back away from my PC and head out and enjoy my weekend.. Since apparently we are living in 2006, I guess have to go get my new Maxim so I can see Jenn's Cowgirl photos!! Exciting!!
Thanks for letting me rant...
Jax - Admin
Jenn's original blog dated April 25th, 2006
Well, it's obviously that slow period between football major events...the NFL draft is over, college ball is entering that summer dead time before players "officially" report to school..god knows the NBA can't end fast enough for me and MLB?...yawn..wake me up in October for that one...or don't, I could care less..
That being said, it never ceases to amaze me how other people will then spend their spare time anyway. Apparently, one solution for these geniuses is to drudge up 2 year old You Tube videos and try to pass them off as new content!!
My Admin Gmail account has been hit these past two days with Google Alerts regarding Jenn and some bloggers reporting on this "incredible find". This particular video was posted Wednesday on one blog site as "new content". That of course got picked up by the mental giants at other larger sites and is now being reported in multiple places. While Jenn could actually give a crap about any of this, I, on the other hand, am significantly bored (see first paragraph above) and feel like responding. So here we go!
Lets start with facts....I know this concept is foreign to most of these bloggers and their fans, but...THIS VIDEO CLIP IS OVER TWO YEARS OLD! Don't take my word, go look it up on You Tube...Jenn wrote about it on her blog in April 2006. If you don't feel like reading that post, in a nutshell, here is what you are really seeing online:
1) She was invited, while still a student at FSU, to present an hour long speech and Q&A session to a student public relations class on the topic of "Representation of Women's Bodies in Cyberspace". The professor thought, given Jenn's personal dealings with her sudden rise to internet popularity while still a student, with the Maxim and Playboy issues being released that month, that she was in a perfect position to share her views and experiences with the class.
2) That same day, a reporter and film crew from the Tallahassee Democrat (the local newspaper) were following her around campus for a "Day in the life" segment about the local girl and the buzz surrounding the upcoming magazines being released.
3) When the Democrat heard she was going to do the class that night, they decided on their own to film the whole 1 hour event. What got posted to You Tube were small clips of the Q&A session where she was answering questions asked by other classmates. None of it was planned to be spread all over the internet. The Tallahassee Democrat posted these clips originally with the article that ran. They of course got posted to You Tube (and of course without the Democrat credit or logo, they were conveniently chopped off). Since all of this is over TWO YEARS OLD, the links on the Democrat website we originally posted are no longer active. But, since I'm a great Admin, I uploaded a copy of the original Tallahassee Democrat article for all to enjoy.
So it's that simple, and yes, that boring of a story. It's not some random announcement like the bloggers are posting. It's not a press conference about her boobs. It was a few minutes of clips of her talking about what kinds of things were happening to her back then, taken out of context and out of order. It's Jenn being honest and candid about her personal life, which, if you have read this blog over the years, is exactly what and who she is. The clips show a nervous college girl being asked to speak about her personal life in front of a large group of people for the first time in her life, all while being filmed by a newspaper to support a major article.
But hey, I don't want to ruin the fun of all the other blog sites out there...I'm fully aware much your site traffic explodes when you post an article about Jenn...and I'm sure you need all the Ad Sense revenue you can possibly generate...so have at it! We will keep posting the facts here, and on Facebook, MySpace and a few other online media ventures we will be pleased to announce in the months ahead...so keep checking back here for the true stuff...or be lazy like me and set up a Google Alert for Jenn, I can't keep up with her crazy posting schedule lately..:)
Oh well, time for me to back away from my PC and head out and enjoy my weekend.. Since apparently we are living in 2006, I guess have to go get my new Maxim so I can see Jenn's Cowgirl photos!! Exciting!!Thanks for letting me rant...
Jax - Admin
Jenn's original blog dated April 25th, 2006
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Simple Gifts
This tax season taught me a lot more than just “always hire an accountant.” It also taught me that I spend a ridiculous amount of money on other people. I’ve always prided myself on being a good gifter. I mean, I spend a lot of time carefully selecting my gifts. After all, you want to give the person something that is an extension of your feelings for them, right?...
Maybe that is why I hate Christmas. There is just so much build up. I cause myself entirely too much anxiety trying to pick out gifts for all the important people in my lives. I mean, even gift cards are thought out, as I will usually make them have some sort of “theme.” I refuse to get them just a visa gift card, or a target card. It’s just too vague. And cash?.. Please. I’m not an ATM. If they want cash they can go to a bank.
Recently, I was having a conversation with a friend of mine in New York City over weddings. I made some comment about buying people “wedding gifts,” and he laughed at me.
“You southerners crack me up…” he said. “You really don’t get it. We give newlywed couples up here money… It isn’t so much about giving them anything they can use; it’s more so about helping the couple recoup their lost expenses. Depending on where the reception is held, and what kind of food they serve, you usually can determine a rational amount of money to gift them.”
This entire concept totally baffled me. You’re supposed to give GIFTS. Something they may want. Something they may need. When did giving someone a gift suddenly become about settling a debt?... It’s not like I am dealing with a bookie or a collection agency or anything. I’m doing something nice for someone special in my life to let them know I was thinking about them. What’s wrong with that?...
When the time came to pick out something for my mother and grandmother for Mother’s Day, I was absolutely dumbfounded. In going with this newly introduced rationale of “gifting,” how do you repay the two women who gave you life?... And then some?...
My search began in the most typical of stomping grounds: The Mall. Maybe I could get her an iPod and some kind of doo-dad that makes it work in her car… but my mom can barely operate a DVD player. So, that’s out. I could get her some cool stuff from Williams Sonoma… but that would just give her and my grandmother even more reason to bake ridiculously rich things that none of us really need to eat. Or maybe I could pick her out a nice outfit at Cache or one of those “mom” stores. Nah.. I wouldn’t even know what size to buy… or what the latest trends are in “Momwear.” My mission at the mall… was a complete bust.
Normally leaving the mall empty handed meant I had accomplished some amazing feat. It meant I had exercised will power and self restraint. I had fought the battle against the devil that is American consumerism.. and won. But this particular outing.. it meant I had failed. How could my creative genius not come up with something as simple as a gift for my own mother? I know it’s the thought that counts.. but I still didn’t want her to feel slighted.
My mom has been there for me when no one else has. I’ve learned things about love, life, and all the stuff in between, that you simply can’t learn from anyone else. My mother has taught me that the in order to be loved, I have to love myself, and that settling is never an option. She’s made the act of forgiveness an art, and showed me sometimes it’s a lot more than just saying sorry. But most importantly, she’s taught me that the glass isn’t half full, or half empty.. but more like.. it’s just not big enough to hold all the love she had for my sister and me.
I can remember the nights she sat up with me going over spelling words, even when I insisted I could do them in my sleep, and even promised I WOULD. There were the Saturday mornings where she and my dad and my grandparents would come to the bowling alley to watch me bowl a 36, and pray for the day that number would enter the triple digit realm. I remember her lecturing my sister for calling some kid at the preschool a ‘silly ass’, and telling her that just because “Peter Pan says it in the play,” it didn’t make it right. (Followed by a “Peter Pan didn’t have a mother, either!!!”) There were the times she would comfort my sister and I when one of our hermit crabs, gerbils, hamsters, bunnies, guinea pigs, rats, and pretty much any other pet a kid could possibly own died, and always made sure they were given the proper burial rights. I remember the nights she spent sitting in the stands watching me conduct my high school band through “One More Time Chick Corea,” until even the title became a little redundant. And I remember the day I left for college, where… even when she tried her best to be happy for me for leaving the nest… she still cried.
It’s weird the moments that come back to you when you start to think of all the things she did that she never had to do. They certainly weren’t listed in the job requirements. The only real basic prerequisite a mother should fulfill is that she love you to the best of her abilities. The rest is all bonus.
I certainly don’t have any kids, but I have a cat.. and she’s still alive.. and that counts for something right? Being a good nurturer just runs in my family, back for as many generations as I can remember. My grandmother moved in with us a little over a year ago. No one will deny that it’s been quite an adjustment for all of us. She and my mother still have their mother daughter moments, which I am sure I will share with them as I grow older. But even despite the generation gap, I still appreciate and respect my grandmother for the marvel that she is. She is the early riser, the overachiever, the master chef, and who could forget the skilled seamstress??... (Did your grandmother ever help you sew a pair of assless chaps for a football game?? Didn’t think so.) I’ve done my best to keep her young, and keep her current. And she has done her best to support me in all my endeavors. I’m not saying she wrote about my Playboy spread in her Christmas letter or anything, but she certainly isn’t ashamed of anything I have done since this whole crazy journey started. Hell, she’s even learning how to use the internet just to watch my clips, and even read emails from time to time. If that’s not love, I dunno what is.
Sometimes when I have been away from home, I can tell it starts to weigh on mom. Hell, it starts to weigh on me. I know it sounds cliché, but my mom truly is my best friend. Who else can I share all my secrets with, and no that another set of ears will never be privy to my classified files? Who else can I bitch about boys, bosses, and bitches to… that I know has been there, done that? Who do I know that will give it to me straight, even when it’s much easier to lie?
Moms don’t get paid overtime to do what they do. They do what they do out of love. They don’t have to do your laundry, make you home cooked meals, or spoil you with love. They do it, because they want to. Why? Because being a mom is the greatest role you can possibly fulfill. God made mom’s to watch us when he’s off tending to the rest of the world. To keep us safe, to keep us happy, and to keep us loved. They are the greatest disciples, shepherds, and preachers of all time. And boy can my mom preach. ;)
Then I got to thinking… maybe you can never truly repay your mother for everything she’s given you, but you can certainly give her credit where credit is due. I could never thank my mother enough for all the personal sacrifices she has made over the past 24 years (and nine months), just to make me the person I am today. 9 months of unstylish maternity wear. 8 years of subjecting her ears to amateur singing, musical-instrument playing, talent shows that lacked.. well.. part of the title. 16 years of chauffeuring til the tires fell off. 20 years of rent-free living, and a hotel that will always leave the light on for me when I’m not on the road. 3 years of being a step mother to one of the bitchiest cats on the planet. And 24 years of learning from the best so maybe one day I can repay the favor of proving she taught me well. When you put it all out there.. a stupid gift that fits in a box simply won’t cut it.
These words are for my mother. And grandmother (if she ever learns what a blog even is). For putting up with me.. and all that that entails. You’ve taught me life isn’t easy, but it can still be all it’s cracked up to be. That I am the creator of my own destiny. That the human heart, though it may break.. is one of the most resilient parts of a person. Thanks for teaching me that even when the times get tough, the only thing you really need to survive… is love.
So you New Yorkers can keep your money, and Southerners can keep your toasters, and coasters, and every other household item in Martha Stewart’s collection. After all, it’s true what they say…
There are just some things money can’t buy.
Love you Mommy and Mommom.
Maybe that is why I hate Christmas. There is just so much build up. I cause myself entirely too much anxiety trying to pick out gifts for all the important people in my lives. I mean, even gift cards are thought out, as I will usually make them have some sort of “theme.” I refuse to get them just a visa gift card, or a target card. It’s just too vague. And cash?.. Please. I’m not an ATM. If they want cash they can go to a bank.
Recently, I was having a conversation with a friend of mine in New York City over weddings. I made some comment about buying people “wedding gifts,” and he laughed at me.
“You southerners crack me up…” he said. “You really don’t get it. We give newlywed couples up here money… It isn’t so much about giving them anything they can use; it’s more so about helping the couple recoup their lost expenses. Depending on where the reception is held, and what kind of food they serve, you usually can determine a rational amount of money to gift them.”
This entire concept totally baffled me. You’re supposed to give GIFTS. Something they may want. Something they may need. When did giving someone a gift suddenly become about settling a debt?... It’s not like I am dealing with a bookie or a collection agency or anything. I’m doing something nice for someone special in my life to let them know I was thinking about them. What’s wrong with that?...
When the time came to pick out something for my mother and grandmother for Mother’s Day, I was absolutely dumbfounded. In going with this newly introduced rationale of “gifting,” how do you repay the two women who gave you life?... And then some?...
My search began in the most typical of stomping grounds: The Mall. Maybe I could get her an iPod and some kind of doo-dad that makes it work in her car… but my mom can barely operate a DVD player. So, that’s out. I could get her some cool stuff from Williams Sonoma… but that would just give her and my grandmother even more reason to bake ridiculously rich things that none of us really need to eat. Or maybe I could pick her out a nice outfit at Cache or one of those “mom” stores. Nah.. I wouldn’t even know what size to buy… or what the latest trends are in “Momwear.” My mission at the mall… was a complete bust.
Normally leaving the mall empty handed meant I had accomplished some amazing feat. It meant I had exercised will power and self restraint. I had fought the battle against the devil that is American consumerism.. and won. But this particular outing.. it meant I had failed. How could my creative genius not come up with something as simple as a gift for my own mother? I know it’s the thought that counts.. but I still didn’t want her to feel slighted.
My mom has been there for me when no one else has. I’ve learned things about love, life, and all the stuff in between, that you simply can’t learn from anyone else. My mother has taught me that the in order to be loved, I have to love myself, and that settling is never an option. She’s made the act of forgiveness an art, and showed me sometimes it’s a lot more than just saying sorry. But most importantly, she’s taught me that the glass isn’t half full, or half empty.. but more like.. it’s just not big enough to hold all the love she had for my sister and me.
I can remember the nights she sat up with me going over spelling words, even when I insisted I could do them in my sleep, and even promised I WOULD. There were the Saturday mornings where she and my dad and my grandparents would come to the bowling alley to watch me bowl a 36, and pray for the day that number would enter the triple digit realm. I remember her lecturing my sister for calling some kid at the preschool a ‘silly ass’, and telling her that just because “Peter Pan says it in the play,” it didn’t make it right. (Followed by a “Peter Pan didn’t have a mother, either!!!”) There were the times she would comfort my sister and I when one of our hermit crabs, gerbils, hamsters, bunnies, guinea pigs, rats, and pretty much any other pet a kid could possibly own died, and always made sure they were given the proper burial rights. I remember the nights she spent sitting in the stands watching me conduct my high school band through “One More Time Chick Corea,” until even the title became a little redundant. And I remember the day I left for college, where… even when she tried her best to be happy for me for leaving the nest… she still cried.
It’s weird the moments that come back to you when you start to think of all the things she did that she never had to do. They certainly weren’t listed in the job requirements. The only real basic prerequisite a mother should fulfill is that she love you to the best of her abilities. The rest is all bonus.
I certainly don’t have any kids, but I have a cat.. and she’s still alive.. and that counts for something right? Being a good nurturer just runs in my family, back for as many generations as I can remember. My grandmother moved in with us a little over a year ago. No one will deny that it’s been quite an adjustment for all of us. She and my mother still have their mother daughter moments, which I am sure I will share with them as I grow older. But even despite the generation gap, I still appreciate and respect my grandmother for the marvel that she is. She is the early riser, the overachiever, the master chef, and who could forget the skilled seamstress??... (Did your grandmother ever help you sew a pair of assless chaps for a football game?? Didn’t think so.) I’ve done my best to keep her young, and keep her current. And she has done her best to support me in all my endeavors. I’m not saying she wrote about my Playboy spread in her Christmas letter or anything, but she certainly isn’t ashamed of anything I have done since this whole crazy journey started. Hell, she’s even learning how to use the internet just to watch my clips, and even read emails from time to time. If that’s not love, I dunno what is.
Sometimes when I have been away from home, I can tell it starts to weigh on mom. Hell, it starts to weigh on me. I know it sounds cliché, but my mom truly is my best friend. Who else can I share all my secrets with, and no that another set of ears will never be privy to my classified files? Who else can I bitch about boys, bosses, and bitches to… that I know has been there, done that? Who do I know that will give it to me straight, even when it’s much easier to lie?
Moms don’t get paid overtime to do what they do. They do what they do out of love. They don’t have to do your laundry, make you home cooked meals, or spoil you with love. They do it, because they want to. Why? Because being a mom is the greatest role you can possibly fulfill. God made mom’s to watch us when he’s off tending to the rest of the world. To keep us safe, to keep us happy, and to keep us loved. They are the greatest disciples, shepherds, and preachers of all time. And boy can my mom preach. ;)
Then I got to thinking… maybe you can never truly repay your mother for everything she’s given you, but you can certainly give her credit where credit is due. I could never thank my mother enough for all the personal sacrifices she has made over the past 24 years (and nine months), just to make me the person I am today. 9 months of unstylish maternity wear. 8 years of subjecting her ears to amateur singing, musical-instrument playing, talent shows that lacked.. well.. part of the title. 16 years of chauffeuring til the tires fell off. 20 years of rent-free living, and a hotel that will always leave the light on for me when I’m not on the road. 3 years of being a step mother to one of the bitchiest cats on the planet. And 24 years of learning from the best so maybe one day I can repay the favor of proving she taught me well. When you put it all out there.. a stupid gift that fits in a box simply won’t cut it.
These words are for my mother. And grandmother (if she ever learns what a blog even is). For putting up with me.. and all that that entails. You’ve taught me life isn’t easy, but it can still be all it’s cracked up to be. That I am the creator of my own destiny. That the human heart, though it may break.. is one of the most resilient parts of a person. Thanks for teaching me that even when the times get tough, the only thing you really need to survive… is love.
So you New Yorkers can keep your money, and Southerners can keep your toasters, and coasters, and every other household item in Martha Stewart’s collection. After all, it’s true what they say…
There are just some things money can’t buy.
Love you Mommy and Mommom.
Thursday, May 08, 2008
She’s Got a “Great Personality”
“This one goes out to you Carly Simon...”
I hate it when my guy friends ask me to set them up with a girl. It’s not that I am cock-blocking, or holding out on finding them the girl of their dreams… it’s just my way of avoiding the inevitable drama of what will happen if things “don’t work out.” When things are great, you are their favorite person on the planet. But when things head south, well… you might as well pack your bags and head for Miami with them… because things get real ugly, real fast. And of course, since you’re friends with both parties, you’re catching heat from both sides, before ultimately you will have to choose one.
When something fails, it’s only natural to retrace your steps all the way back to the beginning to pinpoint when things went wrong. Returning to our prior conversation, the answer usually lies within the opening lines of dialog. That’s right. The… “What is she like??” To which I normally respond, “Well.. she has a great personality.”
Freeze.
That. That right there. Is the kiss of Death.
When you’re being questioned about the prospect of setting someone up that you know with another acquaintance of yours, and you are asked to describe the person: Never begin with a phrase… “She’s got a great personality.” As silly and as “high school” as it may sound, when someone asks you to describe another person, they are ultimately asking for a list of physical attributes first. I’m not saying you have to describe them as some hot neck breaker when they fall much more into the mediocre category, but I’m sure there was at least some physical attribute you could have tossed into the mix.. whether it’s their eyes, their smile… whatever. Give them something, anything!! But, personality???.. Sadly, to the vast majority, this date is already doomed for failure.
Why is it that American culture has these preconceived notions of what constitutes an attractive person? Far too often people substitute looks for more important qualities needed to maintain a steady, healthy, meaningful relationship. Like.. is the individual a good person? Are they loyal? Are they considerate? Do they make my life better? Do I enjoy being in this person’s presence? Nope. Instead, it’s.. what will everyone else think of my date? How does this person reflect on me? What do they look like…better yet, naked?.. Will my significant other turn heads, or stomachs?.. Shallow, but its reality.
I went to Florida State University, which has arguably one of the biggest collections of hot college co-eds in the nation. I mean, when I look back, I was average at best. But that’s not to say that some of these aforementioned “hot girls” weren’t about as smart or as competent as that kid from your kindergarten class that was notorious for eating glue from the bottle. And I should know, as I have had one or two… (:::cough::: thousand) heated debates with them in some of my classes. They’d come to class in their cute little Paris Hilton skirts and flip flops, in full make up and hair like they were heading to the club, not Criminal Psychology. Me?.. I was perfectly content rolling out of bed, throwing on a baseball hat and some flip flops. Why?? Because being rolled up in my sheets in a nice warm bed for an extra hour, was far better than shellacking on my warpaint to walk down fraternity row in search of my future ex boyfriend.
So to be picked from a crowd of 80,000 at a football game, could have happened to practically anyone. For me, it was just dumb luck, being in the right place at the right time.. and wearing the right outfit. Hell, I will be the first person to admit that I would not be in the position I am today had it not been for the way I look. But, there had to be that something extra under the hood that has kept me going almost 2 and a half years later. After all, looks can only get you so far, so when those begin to fade there’s gotta be some sorta substance left to get you through the rest of life. Otherwise the 26 year old hot chick you married, is now a cankled 40 year old headache. And you’re a 45 year old dude, with a curfew as early as your teenage kids.
I once read a “singles” ad in which some girl was asking how to pick up an older, financially secure man in New York City. Before I had even gotten half way through the gold-digger’s rant, I wanted to reach through the computer screen to this woman’s email inbox and issue her a huge virtual bitch slap in the face. She argued that because she was an attractive woman in her mid to late twenties, that she was entitled to date someone successful, and that she couldn’t possibly understand why every day during her walks down Fifth Avenue. she saw ridiculously successful business men with even more ridiculously unattractive women. She wanted to know why these men settled for anything else but the “best,” herself obviously included.
But before I could fire off any kind of response at this woman’s shallow post, a more qualified fighter beat me to the punch. A successful businessman on Wall Street piped with such a business savvy, harsh rebuttal that even I had to applaud him. He explained to her that being a wealthy business man has its advantages, and that he had learned over time, the importance of making wise long term investments. You see, a month long fling with a good –looking, albeit high maintenance gold-digger in the end was simply not worth his time, effort, or money. Why??.. He went on to say that her main argument for “right to be a kept woman” was her looks. What she was proposing was a simple business deal: Good looks for guaranteed income. In the harsh realities of the business world, if you are not meeting demands and keeping up with those around you, you ultimately lose your position. The businessman understood that with the proper investments his income could only increase with time, while her looks were in fact a depreciating asset. Therefore, just as she would expect him to continue to support her with his income he would in turn expect her to uphold her good looks. Should these begin to fade, he hopes she would understand that their contract of relationship would be null and void. Now that.. is a smart business man. Lease the “looker,” invest in the “real thing.”
Everyone has their minimum requirements of the person they want to pursue a relationship with. They have specific tastes, desires… thus the term of being someone’s “type.” Me, for example? Well, come to think of it … I really don’t have a type. One would guess that I date a bunch of overly big macho athletes when the fact of the matter is, my relationships have all been based on what I was needing at the time I was in it. And the majority of the time.. it was simply a best friend. Don’t get me wrong, I am not afraid to admit that I have gone on a date or two with the hot guy from high school that I never had a chance with back in the day, but these were also the dates I found myself doing my fantasy baseball draft underneath the table on my Blackberry. Can you say, “check please?”
Going through the list of guys I have dated, even on a casual basis there really is no single physical attribute they all had in common. There were tall guys, skinny guys, fat guys, short guys… blondes, brunettes, red heads, should-always-wear-a-hat heads… old guys, young guys, could-have-been-in-my-grade guys... Chevy guys, Bentley guys, all-they-could-afford guys… There were guys that could toss a ball, and some guys with no real skills at all. And the last part… could be true on so many levels.
As I sat down and started to play the Jenn Sterger’s crappy ex boyfriend edition of “Guess Who,” I began flipping down the faces that didn’t make the cut. There was the guy that sat across the table from me, and gazed into my eyes so intensely that I thought I was on a date with Cyclops from the X-Men. That is until I realized that there was a giant mirror over my left shoulder and he had really been on a date with himself for the past hour and fifteen minutes. I excused myself so the two of them could be alone. There was the guy who took me to an expensive restaurant, offered to pay… and then asked to borrow money in order to pay the bill. I gave him half, and told the dishwashers that he was their slave for the evening. And then, there was the classic tale of the guy I went to a school dance with… that ended up leaving me at the dance because I wouldn’t have sex with him, taking the limo that my parents had gotten me to make my senior dance “special,” forcing me to call my father to come pick me up at the dance sometime around midnight. I forget to mention, Prince Charming also slept with a good friend of mine that very same night. Where is a fairy godmother with a pumpkin when you need one? Needless to say neither of them signed my yearbook.
I’m sure a few of you are going, all right.. this girl is totally embellishing for sake of making a few bad jokes and to save face in a list of failed dating scenarios. Honey.. I wish I was. And as for the bad jokes.. humor is my coping strategy to get through the tough stuff.
With only a few faces left on the board, I was down to the usual suspects. The guys that had made it past the first couple of rounds. The guys that “went the distance.” I realized they all had something in common: “Great Personalities.” While each had different ingredients, there was something about them and their character that stood out from the rest. Their wit. Their sense of humor. Their attention to detail. Their career ambition. Their passions toward a hobby. Their compassion to others. The way they treat their mothers. The way they knew that it was okay to sit together, and just say nothing at all. The way they’d make me laugh. The way they’d make me think it was my high school sweetheart all over again. The way they would go out of their way just to make my life a little better than it was before. After all, when you leave a relationship, you should always leave the person better off than when you found them. Call me a hopeless romantic. Call me naïve. But don’t you dare call me a pilgrim. But rest assured pal, there are no buckles on my shoes, because I sure as hell ain’t no settler.
I hate it when my guy friends ask me to set them up with a girl. It’s not that I am cock-blocking, or holding out on finding them the girl of their dreams… it’s just my way of avoiding the inevitable drama of what will happen if things “don’t work out.” When things are great, you are their favorite person on the planet. But when things head south, well… you might as well pack your bags and head for Miami with them… because things get real ugly, real fast. And of course, since you’re friends with both parties, you’re catching heat from both sides, before ultimately you will have to choose one.
When something fails, it’s only natural to retrace your steps all the way back to the beginning to pinpoint when things went wrong. Returning to our prior conversation, the answer usually lies within the opening lines of dialog. That’s right. The… “What is she like??” To which I normally respond, “Well.. she has a great personality.” Freeze.
That. That right there. Is the kiss of Death.
When you’re being questioned about the prospect of setting someone up that you know with another acquaintance of yours, and you are asked to describe the person: Never begin with a phrase… “She’s got a great personality.” As silly and as “high school” as it may sound, when someone asks you to describe another person, they are ultimately asking for a list of physical attributes first. I’m not saying you have to describe them as some hot neck breaker when they fall much more into the mediocre category, but I’m sure there was at least some physical attribute you could have tossed into the mix.. whether it’s their eyes, their smile… whatever. Give them something, anything!! But, personality???.. Sadly, to the vast majority, this date is already doomed for failure.
Why is it that American culture has these preconceived notions of what constitutes an attractive person? Far too often people substitute looks for more important qualities needed to maintain a steady, healthy, meaningful relationship. Like.. is the individual a good person? Are they loyal? Are they considerate? Do they make my life better? Do I enjoy being in this person’s presence? Nope. Instead, it’s.. what will everyone else think of my date? How does this person reflect on me? What do they look like…better yet, naked?.. Will my significant other turn heads, or stomachs?.. Shallow, but its reality.
I went to Florida State University, which has arguably one of the biggest collections of hot college co-eds in the nation. I mean, when I look back, I was average at best. But that’s not to say that some of these aforementioned “hot girls” weren’t about as smart or as competent as that kid from your kindergarten class that was notorious for eating glue from the bottle. And I should know, as I have had one or two… (:::cough::: thousand) heated debates with them in some of my classes. They’d come to class in their cute little Paris Hilton skirts and flip flops, in full make up and hair like they were heading to the club, not Criminal Psychology. Me?.. I was perfectly content rolling out of bed, throwing on a baseball hat and some flip flops. Why?? Because being rolled up in my sheets in a nice warm bed for an extra hour, was far better than shellacking on my warpaint to walk down fraternity row in search of my future ex boyfriend. 
So to be picked from a crowd of 80,000 at a football game, could have happened to practically anyone. For me, it was just dumb luck, being in the right place at the right time.. and wearing the right outfit. Hell, I will be the first person to admit that I would not be in the position I am today had it not been for the way I look. But, there had to be that something extra under the hood that has kept me going almost 2 and a half years later. After all, looks can only get you so far, so when those begin to fade there’s gotta be some sorta substance left to get you through the rest of life. Otherwise the 26 year old hot chick you married, is now a cankled 40 year old headache. And you’re a 45 year old dude, with a curfew as early as your teenage kids. I once read a “singles” ad in which some girl was asking how to pick up an older, financially secure man in New York City. Before I had even gotten half way through the gold-digger’s rant, I wanted to reach through the computer screen to this woman’s email inbox and issue her a huge virtual bitch slap in the face. She argued that because she was an attractive woman in her mid to late twenties, that she was entitled to date someone successful, and that she couldn’t possibly understand why every day during her walks down Fifth Avenue. she saw ridiculously successful business men with even more ridiculously unattractive women. She wanted to know why these men settled for anything else but the “best,” herself obviously included.
But before I could fire off any kind of response at this woman’s shallow post, a more qualified fighter beat me to the punch. A successful businessman on Wall Street piped with such a business savvy, harsh rebuttal that even I had to applaud him. He explained to her that being a wealthy business man has its advantages, and that he had learned over time, the importance of making wise long term investments. You see, a month long fling with a good –looking, albeit high maintenance gold-digger in the end was simply not worth his time, effort, or money. Why??.. He went on to say that her main argument for “right to be a kept woman” was her looks. What she was proposing was a simple business deal: Good looks for guaranteed income. In the harsh realities of the business world, if you are not meeting demands and keeping up with those around you, you ultimately lose your position. The businessman understood that with the proper investments his income could only increase with time, while her looks were in fact a depreciating asset. Therefore, just as she would expect him to continue to support her with his income he would in turn expect her to uphold her good looks. Should these begin to fade, he hopes she would understand that their contract of relationship would be null and void. Now that.. is a smart business man. Lease the “looker,” invest in the “real thing.”
Everyone has their minimum requirements of the person they want to pursue a relationship with. They have specific tastes, desires… thus the term of being someone’s “type.” Me, for example? Well, come to think of it … I really don’t have a type. One would guess that I date a bunch of overly big macho athletes when the fact of the matter is, my relationships have all been based on what I was needing at the time I was in it. And the majority of the time.. it was simply a best friend. Don’t get me wrong, I am not afraid to admit that I have gone on a date or two with the hot guy from high school that I never had a chance with back in the day, but these were also the dates I found myself doing my fantasy baseball draft underneath the table on my Blackberry. Can you say, “check please?”
Going through the list of guys I have dated, even on a casual basis there really is no single physical attribute they all had in common. There were tall guys, skinny guys, fat guys, short guys… blondes, brunettes, red heads, should-always-wear-a-hat heads… old guys, young guys, could-have-been-in-my-grade guys... Chevy guys, Bentley guys, all-they-could-afford guys… There were guys that could toss a ball, and some guys with no real skills at all. And the last part… could be true on so many levels. 
As I sat down and started to play the Jenn Sterger’s crappy ex boyfriend edition of “Guess Who,” I began flipping down the faces that didn’t make the cut. There was the guy that sat across the table from me, and gazed into my eyes so intensely that I thought I was on a date with Cyclops from the X-Men. That is until I realized that there was a giant mirror over my left shoulder and he had really been on a date with himself for the past hour and fifteen minutes. I excused myself so the two of them could be alone. There was the guy who took me to an expensive restaurant, offered to pay… and then asked to borrow money in order to pay the bill. I gave him half, and told the dishwashers that he was their slave for the evening. And then, there was the classic tale of the guy I went to a school dance with… that ended up leaving me at the dance because I wouldn’t have sex with him, taking the limo that my parents had gotten me to make my senior dance “special,” forcing me to call my father to come pick me up at the dance sometime around midnight. I forget to mention, Prince Charming also slept with a good friend of mine that very same night. Where is a fairy godmother with a pumpkin when you need one? Needless to say neither of them signed my yearbook.I’m sure a few of you are going, all right.. this girl is totally embellishing for sake of making a few bad jokes and to save face in a list of failed dating scenarios. Honey.. I wish I was. And as for the bad jokes.. humor is my coping strategy to get through the tough stuff.
With only a few faces left on the board, I was down to the usual suspects. The guys that had made it past the first couple of rounds. The guys that “went the distance.” I realized they all had something in common: “Great Personalities.” While each had different ingredients, there was something about them and their character that stood out from the rest. Their wit. Their sense of humor. Their attention to detail. Their career ambition. Their passions toward a hobby. Their compassion to others. The way they treat their mothers. The way they knew that it was okay to sit together, and just say nothing at all. The way they’d make me laugh. The way they’d make me think it was my high school sweetheart all over again. The way they would go out of their way just to make my life a little better than it was before. After all, when you leave a relationship, you should always leave the person better off than when you found them. Call me a hopeless romantic. Call me naïve. But don’t you dare call me a pilgrim. But rest assured pal, there are no buckles on my shoes, because I sure as hell ain’t no settler.
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
Gentlemen (:::cough::: and ladies), start your engines…
I returned to my roots this past weekend as I came home long enough to pet my cat, repack my suitcase, and let my parents know I am still alive. This week has me headin’ back home again to Indiana. It is after all where my father was born and raised.. so I guess you could call it home in some respect.
Though the city of Indianapolis has changed quite a bit since my father left for Miami, one thing still remains the same: the city’s love for the race. Much talk has been made recently over Danica Patrick’s first win as an Indy car driver. I guess men can’t fathom the fact that some of us can handle a car with some power behind it. (Hell, maybe one of these days I can convince them to let me drive one.) So with all these speculations looming, does she have what it takes to be the first female to win the Indy 500?... I guess we’ll find out soon enough as this year’s qualifying kicks off this weekend. Danica on the Pole??.. Well, that I’d like to see.
While I’m there on business purposes, I also plan on taking a day or two to myself to catch up with my buddy Will Carroll. It’s been a while since Will and I have gotten to hang out and catch a ball game.. especially since the FSU/Phillies game got called on account of some crappy weather. While there won’t be any baseball on the schedule, there will certainly be enough racing to go around… and around.. and around..
Jenn Sterger? Pole Day? Oh yeah, the bloggers are gonna have a field day with this one…
Be sure to check out footage from the field. I’ll try to get it up and posted asap.
Later guys, I got a plane to catch…
--Love always, Jenn
Though the city of Indianapolis has changed quite a bit since my father left for Miami, one thing still remains the same: the city’s love for the race. Much talk has been made recently over Danica Patrick’s first win as an Indy car driver. I guess men can’t fathom the fact that some of us can handle a car with some power behind it. (Hell, maybe one of these days I can convince them to let me drive one.) So with all these speculations looming, does she have what it takes to be the first female to win the Indy 500?... I guess we’ll find out soon enough as this year’s qualifying kicks off this weekend. Danica on the Pole??.. Well, that I’d like to see.
While I’m there on business purposes, I also plan on taking a day or two to myself to catch up with my buddy Will Carroll. It’s been a while since Will and I have gotten to hang out and catch a ball game.. especially since the FSU/Phillies game got called on account of some crappy weather. While there won’t be any baseball on the schedule, there will certainly be enough racing to go around… and around.. and around..
Jenn Sterger? Pole Day? Oh yeah, the bloggers are gonna have a field day with this one…
Be sure to check out footage from the field. I’ll try to get it up and posted asap.
Later guys, I got a plane to catch…
--Love always, Jenn
Friday, May 02, 2008
Bottom of the ninth....
Two Outs. Bases loaded.
Full count.
As the wind pushes about the clouds on the one of the last days of summer, another season comes to an end. You’ve stared many of these moments in the face throughout your years at bat. But this one just has a different feeling to it.
It’s that defining moment in a person’s life, their career, their sense of being that they know may be their last. You’re batting against time; you’re batting against the future, against age, against ending. You’re hoping for one more chance to see something that you have created, clear the fences. In your final strike, in your last at bat… What will you make of yours?
Maybe it’s just me, but I’m pretty sure God created baseball, and all other sports for that matter as a distraction from the real world. It was mankind that made it the metaphor for our existence. We’ve written stories, made movies, built legends out of mere mortals that simply were better at something than the rest of us. But of all sports, baseball seems to be the one that best mirrors life.. I mean, why else would the make so many great movies about it? Aside from Hoosiers, and The Longest Yard… how many movies can you really think of that have football or basketball as a metaphorical subplot?... Eh, I guess boxing works too… but only if your Sylvester Stallone and are pretty gifted at playing slightly retarded (Except for the third movie, where he could have possibly solved a Rubik's cube, or at least tied his shoe all by himself).
As far as metaphors go, you really couldn’t get more accurate. The season is long. You fail more times than you succeed. There are tough decisions to make. And of course the man in blue is always screwin' you in some fashion or another.
Some would argue that baseball is simply just a way to pass time, and that its metaphor lies in the sports longevity. As the season wears on, the hits become less memorable, the errors seem less embarrassing.. the endless road games and home stands blend seamlessly into this giant arc. So in a game of statistics, numbers, and steroids, how do some just earn a living, while the rest become legends?
For years I joked about dumb jocks, and their lack of foresight when is came to making decisions. I can think of better ways to spend the governments money than chasing after athletes who make bad decisions, but then again… what do you expect when the leader of the greater free world so happened to run a franchise better than he did a country?.. And some may even argue that point. Regardless of preconceived notions, hitting a pitched ball demands such unclouded vision, immediate judgment, and precise coordination that one can hit well only in a state of naked awareness, of wakefulness without a single thought. It’s just automatic. It’s natural. Some things just come easier to others. While some, it’s a practiced skill.
We all have certain purposes in life, and roles we play in the lives of others. With corporate America running things these days, there’s no allegiance. No loyalty. It’s simply, “how can I get ahead of the Yankees?...” Such is life, where people will trade life long companions, and future icons at the chance of getting that hot young prospect. The one that will fill the seats, the one that will make the other teams take notice. Because that is what it’s all about right?... But guess what?.. You can have the biggest pay roll, the greatest bunch of individual athletes in the world, but if they can’t put aside ego.. and play as one… they aren’t worth a thing.
When the Boston Red Sox traded Babe Ruth, they sold him for $100,000 and a Broadway musical. 86 years of misery for a hundred grand and some show tunes???.... Its poor decisions like this that will haunt us for years to come. The idea that you let “the one” get away. That job, that love interest. All because it seemed like a good idea at the time, or it was just too much effort, or for simply a matter of convenience. Nothing worth having ever came easy, but in the end it’s certainly worth it. Imagine what the Sox could have achieved... Bad trades and decisions are a part of baseball as much as they are a part of life. And if 86 years seems like a long time to city of loyal fans, imagine what it feels like when you go it alone.
It’s in these last days, that you sometimes wish you’d hung it up when you were younger. They wouldn’t see you in such a weakened state. But the fact is they’ve been with you all the way. They stood by you when you went 0 for 10.. and you were throwing fewer K’s than the alphabet. Sure the drunks in the outfield would give you hell and harass your mother, but that’s only because they didn’t feel like you were living up to your true potential. And they should know. They’ll celebrate your victories, and mourn your losses, and let you know when your head ain’t right. But if they still care after all the hell you’ve put them through, then you know you’ve made it to the show. After all, fans don’t boo nobodies.
The point is no matter what life throws you, you got to always keep swinging. There will be times you will hit one to the fence, and times you will get called “Out.” Such is life, and it’s full of successes and failures. But dwelling on failure, only leaves you in a slump, and a bad slump is like a soft bed. Its easy to fall into, and hell to get out of. Accept your shortcomings, accept your flaws.. change what you can, and keep swinging. Revel in the fact you play a sport where three out of ten ain’t bad. And above all, never take your eye off the ball. Because the pitcher doesn’t, nor do the crowds of fans and naysayers.. so why should you?
So what will you do with your last at bat?.. seal a legacy or go down in infamy? What will they say about you when all is said and done???
I don’t know much about life, but I do know my sports. And though the players change, certain variables remain the same. You'll win some. You'll lose some.
And some'll get rained out.
All that matters is that you came to play ball.
We have been appointed umpires in a cosmic game of our own devising, and at any moment we choose, we can declare ourselves home safe.
Full count.
As the wind pushes about the clouds on the one of the last days of summer, another season comes to an end. You’ve stared many of these moments in the face throughout your years at bat. But this one just has a different feeling to it.
It’s that defining moment in a person’s life, their career, their sense of being that they know may be their last. You’re batting against time; you’re batting against the future, against age, against ending. You’re hoping for one more chance to see something that you have created, clear the fences. In your final strike, in your last at bat… What will you make of yours? Maybe it’s just me, but I’m pretty sure God created baseball, and all other sports for that matter as a distraction from the real world. It was mankind that made it the metaphor for our existence. We’ve written stories, made movies, built legends out of mere mortals that simply were better at something than the rest of us. But of all sports, baseball seems to be the one that best mirrors life.. I mean, why else would the make so many great movies about it? Aside from Hoosiers, and The Longest Yard… how many movies can you really think of that have football or basketball as a metaphorical subplot?... Eh, I guess boxing works too… but only if your Sylvester Stallone and are pretty gifted at playing slightly retarded (Except for the third movie, where he could have possibly solved a Rubik's cube, or at least tied his shoe all by himself).
As far as metaphors go, you really couldn’t get more accurate. The season is long. You fail more times than you succeed. There are tough decisions to make. And of course the man in blue is always screwin' you in some fashion or another.
Some would argue that baseball is simply just a way to pass time, and that its metaphor lies in the sports longevity. As the season wears on, the hits become less memorable, the errors seem less embarrassing.. the endless road games and home stands blend seamlessly into this giant arc. So in a game of statistics, numbers, and steroids, how do some just earn a living, while the rest become legends?
For years I joked about dumb jocks, and their lack of foresight when is came to making decisions. I can think of better ways to spend the governments money than chasing after athletes who make bad decisions, but then again… what do you expect when the leader of the greater free world so happened to run a franchise better than he did a country?.. And some may even argue that point. Regardless of preconceived notions, hitting a pitched ball demands such unclouded vision, immediate judgment, and precise coordination that one can hit well only in a state of naked awareness, of wakefulness without a single thought. It’s just automatic. It’s natural. Some things just come easier to others. While some, it’s a practiced skill.
We all have certain purposes in life, and roles we play in the lives of others. With corporate America running things these days, there’s no allegiance. No loyalty. It’s simply, “how can I get ahead of the Yankees?...” Such is life, where people will trade life long companions, and future icons at the chance of getting that hot young prospect. The one that will fill the seats, the one that will make the other teams take notice. Because that is what it’s all about right?... But guess what?.. You can have the biggest pay roll, the greatest bunch of individual athletes in the world, but if they can’t put aside ego.. and play as one… they aren’t worth a thing.
When the Boston Red Sox traded Babe Ruth, they sold him for $100,000 and a Broadway musical. 86 years of misery for a hundred grand and some show tunes???.... Its poor decisions like this that will haunt us for years to come. The idea that you let “the one” get away. That job, that love interest. All because it seemed like a good idea at the time, or it was just too much effort, or for simply a matter of convenience. Nothing worth having ever came easy, but in the end it’s certainly worth it. Imagine what the Sox could have achieved... Bad trades and decisions are a part of baseball as much as they are a part of life. And if 86 years seems like a long time to city of loyal fans, imagine what it feels like when you go it alone.It’s in these last days, that you sometimes wish you’d hung it up when you were younger. They wouldn’t see you in such a weakened state. But the fact is they’ve been with you all the way. They stood by you when you went 0 for 10.. and you were throwing fewer K’s than the alphabet. Sure the drunks in the outfield would give you hell and harass your mother, but that’s only because they didn’t feel like you were living up to your true potential. And they should know. They’ll celebrate your victories, and mourn your losses, and let you know when your head ain’t right. But if they still care after all the hell you’ve put them through, then you know you’ve made it to the show. After all, fans don’t boo nobodies.
The point is no matter what life throws you, you got to always keep swinging. There will be times you will hit one to the fence, and times you will get called “Out.” Such is life, and it’s full of successes and failures. But dwelling on failure, only leaves you in a slump, and a bad slump is like a soft bed. Its easy to fall into, and hell to get out of. Accept your shortcomings, accept your flaws.. change what you can, and keep swinging. Revel in the fact you play a sport where three out of ten ain’t bad. And above all, never take your eye off the ball. Because the pitcher doesn’t, nor do the crowds of fans and naysayers.. so why should you?So what will you do with your last at bat?.. seal a legacy or go down in infamy? What will they say about you when all is said and done???
I don’t know much about life, but I do know my sports. And though the players change, certain variables remain the same. You'll win some. You'll lose some.
And some'll get rained out.
All that matters is that you came to play ball.
We have been appointed umpires in a cosmic game of our own devising, and at any moment we choose, we can declare ourselves home safe.
Thursday, May 01, 2008
On the Level Part Deux… Or Something Like That
While I’m trying on different cities, and tripping the life fantastic.. or whatever the hell they call it.. be sure and check out the latest installments of Rapido Productions “On the Level Two.. The Search for Spot’s Nussie.” I kinda glossed over it in my last blog and have gotten a lot of letters regarding what in the hell I was talking about.. and who were these doofuses.. and where was I in the films I posted.
For those of you who have no idea what I am talking about, well… I guess you’re one of those people that still wears stonewashed jeans…or thinks Rick Astley is finally receiving the recognition he deserves. You’re also…Lame…………
Maybe you should come hang with the cool kids at Maxim Radio, Sirius 108. BTW—if at any time during this blog you see a word that confuses you, feel free to look it up on WHATDATMEAN.com. I can’t slow down long the world and people want others to take notice… they march. They march for peace. They march for pride. They march to free people, boobs.. so why not Spot’s inner beast??.. Being the producer of a national radio show, one that caters to the American man in sports, girls, and all things manly… Spot has seemingly become the anti-mascot. The ‘what not to wear’. The ‘Pussification of America’ in all of its glory. On January 7th, 2008 Covino and Rich challenged Spot to go out.. and get the girl. But that’s not the worst part. Spot could not … well, you know.. (use your imagination perverts)… until he got the girl. If that isn’t motivation, I don’t know what is.
Being a good friend of the show and the fellas, I’ve spent countless hours trying to help Christian find the courage to “get the girl,” whether it was at a local pub in the city, or a cute hometown hottie on the show. The worst single event in recent history was probably watching Christian score lots of hugs and pecks on the cheek from chicks that had just finished a midnight make out session with some random dudes who had simply had more gumption than Spot. Way to go Spotty. While the rest of us were ringing in the New Year, you were starting the “Dew Year” off with Dick Clark. Sigh.
It’s not like I’m not telling him to go out and have random meaningless encounters. No, that’s the voice of the two devils on his other shoulder (namely C&R). In fact, I’m telling him the exact opposite. I’m the angel on the other shoulder telling Spot get motivated, get confident, and find “the one” already. Enough with the shenanigans… or lack thereof.
If any man is going to put himself in the pure agony of attempting such a crusade, why not document it?.. Sure, it may seem shameless, but it’s all for the greater good. Christian Sorge is the everyday man. And this is his story.
On the Level Two is a compelling documentary, of one man’s journey… with two obnoxious friends, myself, and a film maker to Scottsdale Arizona for the 2008 Super Bowl. With the Patriots perfect season, Peyton’s family name, and Spots… “self respect”.. on the line, the city of Scottsdale was about to go down in history… or infamy. Sure, it won’t be nominated for any awards, but I assure you its more compelling than anything Jessica Alba has starred in lately.. aside from wearing a latex suit I guess… If you’re into that sort of thing. It’s more gripping than anything Spots had in a while. And of course, there are lots of laughs along the way.
Special thanks to C&R for letting me come along. To Christian for being a good sport and allowing me to join him on his quest. To Rob Cross and Maxim Radio for having me correspond during their live broadcast at the Maxim party. And last but not least, Sami J “The Director” for not only putting together an amazing film.. but also for his forgiveness in my shotty camera work.
So without further ado ladies and gentlemen.. I give you Part 2 of the adventure… “On the Level Part Two*.” Additional parts to follow.
* The parts are labeled kinda poorly, so make sure you watch Part 1 (1 and 2) and Part 2 (1 and 2) in the proper order. And by no means, watch this at work, in the library, or in the presence of small children as this film does contain vulgar language and possibly some nudity.. though.. certainly not on my behalf. Enjoy.*
On The Level 2 - Part 1 (1 of 2)
On The Level 2 - Part 1 (2 of 2)
On The Level 2 - Part 2 (1 of 2)
On The Level 2 - Part 2 (2 of 2)
For those of you who have no idea what I am talking about, well… I guess you’re one of those people that still wears stonewashed jeans…or thinks Rick Astley is finally receiving the recognition he deserves. You’re also…Lame…………
Maybe you should come hang with the cool kids at Maxim Radio, Sirius 108. BTW—if at any time during this blog you see a word that confuses you, feel free to look it up on WHATDATMEAN.com. I can’t slow down long the world and people want others to take notice… they march. They march for peace. They march for pride. They march to free people, boobs.. so why not Spot’s inner beast??.. Being the producer of a national radio show, one that caters to the American man in sports, girls, and all things manly… Spot has seemingly become the anti-mascot. The ‘what not to wear’. The ‘Pussification of America’ in all of its glory. On January 7th, 2008 Covino and Rich challenged Spot to go out.. and get the girl. But that’s not the worst part. Spot could not … well, you know.. (use your imagination perverts)… until he got the girl. If that isn’t motivation, I don’t know what is.
Being a good friend of the show and the fellas, I’ve spent countless hours trying to help Christian find the courage to “get the girl,” whether it was at a local pub in the city, or a cute hometown hottie on the show. The worst single event in recent history was probably watching Christian score lots of hugs and pecks on the cheek from chicks that had just finished a midnight make out session with some random dudes who had simply had more gumption than Spot. Way to go Spotty. While the rest of us were ringing in the New Year, you were starting the “Dew Year” off with Dick Clark. Sigh.
It’s not like I’m not telling him to go out and have random meaningless encounters. No, that’s the voice of the two devils on his other shoulder (namely C&R). In fact, I’m telling him the exact opposite. I’m the angel on the other shoulder telling Spot get motivated, get confident, and find “the one” already. Enough with the shenanigans… or lack thereof.
If any man is going to put himself in the pure agony of attempting such a crusade, why not document it?.. Sure, it may seem shameless, but it’s all for the greater good. Christian Sorge is the everyday man. And this is his story.
On the Level Two is a compelling documentary, of one man’s journey… with two obnoxious friends, myself, and a film maker to Scottsdale Arizona for the 2008 Super Bowl. With the Patriots perfect season, Peyton’s family name, and Spots… “self respect”.. on the line, the city of Scottsdale was about to go down in history… or infamy. Sure, it won’t be nominated for any awards, but I assure you its more compelling than anything Jessica Alba has starred in lately.. aside from wearing a latex suit I guess… If you’re into that sort of thing. It’s more gripping than anything Spots had in a while. And of course, there are lots of laughs along the way.
Special thanks to C&R for letting me come along. To Christian for being a good sport and allowing me to join him on his quest. To Rob Cross and Maxim Radio for having me correspond during their live broadcast at the Maxim party. And last but not least, Sami J “The Director” for not only putting together an amazing film.. but also for his forgiveness in my shotty camera work.
So without further ado ladies and gentlemen.. I give you Part 2 of the adventure… “On the Level Part Two*.” Additional parts to follow.
* The parts are labeled kinda poorly, so make sure you watch Part 1 (1 and 2) and Part 2 (1 and 2) in the proper order. And by no means, watch this at work, in the library, or in the presence of small children as this film does contain vulgar language and possibly some nudity.. though.. certainly not on my behalf. Enjoy.*
On The Level 2 - Part 1 (1 of 2)
On The Level 2 - Part 1 (2 of 2)
On The Level 2 - Part 2 (1 of 2)
On The Level 2 - Part 2 (2 of 2)
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