Thursday, January 29, 2009

55. Dear Italy:

Thank you for the many, many wonderful things you have given to the world, including--but not limited to--gnocchi, chianti, and caffè lattes.

Oh, and Pavarotti, Vespas, bocce ball, and the Popemobile, for that matter.

Please know that I fully intend to visit you sometime soon to thank you in person.

Ciao bella,
dave

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

54. One of my favorite things, period.

Hot showers.

And after living in a region where a combination of hot water, good water pressure, and clean water was something of a rarity, I'm all the more thankful to be in a place where I can have a good, hot, refreshing shower pretty much whenever I want.

I already had one this morning. But I'm kinda tempted to take another one right now.

Monday, January 26, 2009

53. From Kurdistan with love.

I got the sweetest package in the mail the other day.

It was a Christmas gift from one of my kids in Kurdistan; she gave it to one of our school's American staffers who returned to the U.S. for the holidays and in turn mailed to me once she returned Stateside.

The gift? A plush (read: Beanie Baby-esque) toy puppy with wings. Weird, but very endearing.

Even more endearing, though, is the incredibly sweet letter this student of mine wrote. Though a bit of a troublemaker when I had her in my 5th grade math and music classes, this girl has always been a real sweetheart to me (when I was back in Northern Iraq in 2007, she and a group of her friends invited me to lunch at the American-style cafe in town for Pepsi, pizza, "humburgers," and "Kantaqi," aka Kentucky Fried Chicken).

My favorite part of the letter:
"God bless you and your family and ohh Dear God give Mr. David a cute wife and two beautiful childs, a boy and a cute girl!! We love you ♥"
I miss and love these kids so much, and often feel the pangs of guilt over not being able to be back over there in a long-term capacity. I often feel a sense of shame when I think about my kids; that I've let them down, that they might perceive my absence as an indicator of some unwarranted antipathy towards them.

Nothing could be further from the truth, of course; I love my Kurdish kids dearly and think of them on a daily basis.

Which is why getting a wonderful little surprise like this package does my heart so much good. Despite my fears and thoughts to the contrary, I can know that they're thinking of me as well.

Sunday, January 25, 2009

52. "Music can noble hints impart."

Music can noble hints impart,
Engender fury, kindle love,
With unsuspected eloquence can move,
And manage all the man with secret art.
--Joseph Addison
Here's a random trivia fact about me: I'm one of those weird breeds of music obsessees, in that when a song inextricably lodges itself into my psyche, I will invariably play that song on continuous repeat for at least a good hundred times or more.

It happens every couple of months. Somehow, a song can manage to connect with and speak to me in some loftier realm of abstract understanding (a realm to which music is the seemingly lone access point for me), and I simply won't be able to listen to it enough.

It happened again this week.

"So Far Around the Bend," a new song by one of my favorite bands of late--The National--was leaked to the internet as part of a month-long promotion for what looks to be a fantastic new benefit compilation, Dark Was the Night.

I discovered it on Tuesday, which was--for all intents and purposes--a very trying day for me on a personal level. I was doing work at a nearby coffeeshop when I downloaded the track. And listened. And listened. And listened some more.

Musically, it's a bouncy, upbeat track with lush, sentimental instrumentation--a bit of a departure for the Brooklyn band, perhaps--but still very understated and full of yearning, two common elements in The National's work that have indelibly drawn me to the band.

And then the bridge of the song enters. A carefree, almost rapturous refrain: "And there's no leaving New York."

Given the context of the lyrics, the line could possibly be meant as a bit of a downer (as in, the protagonist who's "so far around the bend" is never gonna get to leave NYC). But given the glorious exuberance of the instrumentation at that moment, I can't imagine that line representing anything but a certain lovestruck giddiness. That particular line grabbed me and compelled me to listen to the song again and again.

And after repeated listens (even an hour or so later, now in the car and fighting traffic on the 405), it nailed me: a bit of moral clarity that the song's music and lyric, together, had unearthed in me. It was as if I were living out a scene in a cheesy Hallmark Channel movie, a moment in which the main character of the film finally comes to a profound realization of his true love:

I belong in New York City.

It's something I've known pretty much since I left for LA at the end of 2006, but more and more, I've grown to feel sort of resigned to the fact that I'll be in LA indefinitely.

But hearing the song--and the line that forms the emotional core of it--brought out in me the strong emotions I have for the City that Never Sleeps: wonder, joy, love, inspiration. Sentiments long-since buried under the layers of complacency and stagnancy I've built up from living in LA for two years now.

I need to be back in New York. I don't know when that will be, but I've been re-inspired to make it happen sooner rather than later.

(And hopefully, I can inspire some of my friends to make the move with me; I love NYC, but I've grown quite attached to some of the folks I share life with here in LA.)

What a prescient song. So far around the bend, indeed.

And for what it's worth, it's Sunday and I still haven't stopped listening to it on perpetual repeat.

51. You know it's a good day when...

...you've only been in your apartment long enough to eat a pizza for lunch (Pitfire!) and take a quick power-nap.

I find that I'm most content with life when my apartment's primary function is to be the place I lay my head at night (or even briefly during the day). A good day, for me, is one in which I'm out and about for most of it.

And with that, I'm going to bed. It's 3:30, and I need to get up in 6 hours for church. Another busy day awaits, and I'm excited!

Thursday, January 22, 2009

50. Going back to the island.

After eight months of waiting around, wandering aimlessly in the proverbial desert with nothing to live for, my life was once again re-enriched last night with the return of my favorite television drama.

Which is a weird (if not slightly-hyperbolic) statement, because--save for the show that has had a remarkable influence in my life--I don't really get all that excited about TV shows.

Then again, LOST is not your typical TV show.

I didn't expect--nor even want--to jump on the bandwagon. I missed the first three seasons, which, when dealing with a serial drama such as LOST, means something of an uphill battle for the late entrant.

But during the hiatus between seasons 3 and 4, I got caught up on the first three seasons--thanks to the brilliant concept of TV show season DVDs (simply one of the best ideas of the past 10 years), and my friend, former roommate, and LOST-sherpa, Jonathan.

It didn't take long before I was hooked on the show about a group of plane crash survivors marooned on a mysterious island.

The show's constant barrage of plot twists and turns make for maddeningly engrossing suspense. The layers of meaning and the ever-growing mythology that surrounds the show make for constant theorizing and great conversation with other fans of the show.

But it's the show's characters--characters we've come to know and love for four seasons now--who make the show the wonderfully engaging and irresistible bit of entertainment that it is. (For what it's worth, my favorites are: Sawyer, Desmond, Ben, Locke, Juliet, and Kate...though probably just because she's hot.)

It's the perfect little bit of escapism, and I'm glad to have it back in my life. I'll be quite sad to see the saga come to a close in roughly 16 months from now.

49. "Hail to the chief, he's the chief and he needs hailing."*

(This post was intended for Tuesday, January 20, 2009.)

OK, one more political thought, and then I'm moving on to more important matters in my book.

That inauguration was something, wasn't it? What a powerful and historic moment to witness, even for those of us who didn't vote for Barack Obama. What a wonderful and profound progression this country has made in just over 40 years since the passage of the Civil Rights Act. What a lovely ceremony it was.

And yes, what a hat, Aretha.

I love the pomp and circumstance of the presidential inauguration (and not just this one in particular, but in general). How it serves as a celebration of our enduring experiment in democracy. How it reminds of our country's founding ideals. How it represents--and has represented for our nation's entire (albeit relatively short) history--a peaceful transfer of power from one political party to another, a notion that is still very much an oddity throughout much of the world.

I'm always reminded of that last aspect when the cannons are set off for the 21-gun salute. For all of the shortcomings of American governance (and believe me, I know there's a lot), it's still quite a marvel that regime change--so to speak--in our government isn't accompanied by military coups or the like.

I attended the inauguration in 2004 (guess that's not too hard to admit now that the cat's out of the bag). It's something I recommend everyone do at least once in their lives. Some friends and I attended several of the inaugural balls, witnessed the swearing-in, watched the inaugural parade, and had a grand ol' time as we nearly froze to death during a chilly January week in Washington, D.C.

So I'm grateful for the presidential inauguration; for the significance it carries with it every four years, but also for the added significance of this particular one on January 20, 2009.

My heartfelt prayers and well-wishes are with the new president.



*The title of this post is courtesy of the 1996 comedy My Fellow Americans

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

48. Thank you, #43.

(This post was intended for Monday, January 19, 2009.)

I generally don't like to discuss politics.

It's not that I don't like politics. I do...in fact, I love following politics. But I find that my views are in the clear minority amongst my peers here in LA (and in NYC). And though I enjoy and appreciate robust, thoughtful, and civil discussion, my few forays into political discourse have usually been greeted with a sort of knee-jerk reaction of dismissive condescension ("How can you be so stupid to support politician X or policy Y?") or insults, both of which only serve to preempt any meaningful and open-minded sharing of ideas and beliefs.*

I say all of that to preface the statement I'm about to make--a statement which I know full-well is shared by a infinitesimal minority of Americans--in hopes that you won't belittle me or think entirely less of me or my intellectual capacity for holding this belief.

(Deep breath...here goes nothing:)

I'm thankful for George W. Bush.

(Wow...that wasn't so bad, after all.)

Yes, he's been far from perfect; yes, his administration has made its share of mistakes; and yes, there's plenty of reason to differ about the prudence of some of his decisions. But on the whole, I think he's done an admirable job, one that I contend will be given a much fairer and favorable assessment as time passes.

Again, I know: it's a tremendously uncommon viewpoint--one that an even smaller number of people who actually hold it are likely to admit in public--but I know I'm not entirely alone in holding such an uncommon belief.

I appreciate his courage in these unexpectedly tumultuous and trying times; his willingness to make many difficult and unpopular decisions; his integrity and class in the face of rabid, relentless, and unprecedented character assassination (has anyone else in history been so frequently and unfairly compared to Hitler?); and his unsung work as a humanitarian. Considering he's the guy about whom it was once famously and glibly--and again, quite unfairly--said "doesn't care about black people," Bush has actually done more to alleviate suffering in Africa than any other American president.

(And if that's not quite enough for good ol 'Ye, Bush did appoint the first African American to be the country's top diplomat to the world, and then followed him up by appointing...the first female African American to the post. It's entirely possible that a President Obama may not have come about in 2009 if the country hadn't gotten used to Secretaries of State Powell and Rice these past eight years.)

I'm grateful for George W. Bush, and for his service to our nation. And it's my hope that others--who, while perhaps glad to see an end to his controversial administration--can take even just a moment to think charitably about the man.

Thank you, and God bless you, President Bush.



*This, of course, is not the case across the board; I have had numerous heated yet respectful discussions with one of my closest friends who views things from the opposite side of the political spectrum.

Getting more and more behind, I know.

Sorry, I know--I'm now a few days behind in posting. It's been a couple of weird, incredibly trying days, and though I know exactly what I plan to write about for yesterday, today (well, technically yesterday now, which makes the first yesterd...ah, never mind), and tomorrow, I just haven't had the energy. Or the words, really (and I don't want to do a disservice to the several posts I have in mind).

I'll get to it, though. Promise. Very likely tomorrow, as it should be a pretty chill day, by and large.

In the meantime, your prayers are coveted and much-appreciated. Drop me a line if you want to know the reasons why.

Monday, January 19, 2009

47. Emerging

I think one of the best feelings an individual can experience is when he finally emerges from an illness that's been plaguing him for even a few days.

In some cases (especially a cold), the illness can dissipate so slowly and stealthily that you don't even initially recognize that it's more or less gone.

But when you do, oh, what joy! What invincibility you once again feel! What boundless possibilities for the future! I can actually get things done this week! I can be social!

(Well, if it weren't for the limited financial resources...and that pesky, recently-recurred melancholy that apparently didn't get the "cease and desist" memo from a few weeks back.)

Updated: I take that back. Being sick didn't really stop me from being social. Just responsible.

Saturday, January 17, 2009

46. The cure for what ails you*, in two words:

Rock. Band.



*And by "you" I mean "me." But probably you as well.

45. I think I'm really starting to figure out my "type."

In no particular order:

Super-sweet. Gregarious. Full of warmth and charm. In short, a real people-person.
But. Also full of sass, spunk, moxie. A bit unpredictable. A bit adventurous.
Intellectual, but not intimidatingly so.
Selfless and caring. Deeply compassionate. Motivated to help others whenever possible.
A creative type. A dreamer. Someone who can inspire me and be inspired by me.
Absolutely, breath-takingly beautiful. Both inside and out.
A total romantic. Someone who'll never grow tired of me opening the car door for her.
Patient. Gracious. Relatively unswayed by material possessions.
Someone who prefers to take the road less-traveled by.
(A road which, hopefully, runs through NYC at some point.)
Someone who loves knowledge, good food, spontaneity, people, and--above all--God.

(I think that about covers it. It's nice to finally have a pretty good idea...or so I think. Now, the obvious questions: 1. Is she even out there? and 2. If she is, what would she possibly see in a guy like me?)

Thursday, January 15, 2009

44. Considering the events of the day...

...I'm quite thankful for the required pre-flight safety demonstrations on commercial flights throughout the world.

Annoying as they can be, those announcements/demonstrations surely helped to avert tragedy today.

A P.P.S. to the open letter to Steve Jobs

All kidding aside, get better soon, Steve. The world would not be the same without you.

Yours truly,
A long-time admirer

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

43. Comic relief

I had one of the worst days in recent memory today.

I won't get into the details, but it was a terrible day on so many levels: emotionally, physically (I'm sick...again), career-wise, work-wise (yup, I consider the two unrelated), etc. One of those days when it seems like the universe is just conspiring against your very existence.

So thankfully, when the tension and stress of the day reached its apex at approximately 6 pm, God did what He so often does in situations like these:

He provided some comic relief; both at my expense, and for my benefit.

(I will warn you in advance; the forthcoming story might be a little too much personal information for some of you. You've been warned...or enticed.)

So I was sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic on the way out of town to give a presentation for work. The freeway was as slow as I've ever seen it--my iPhone's Google Map was telling me it would take 2 hours to go 18 effing miles. There was no way I was going to make it to the presentation on time, and--since it had already been a terrible, terrible day for me--the stress of knowing I would be late for an important event due to the awful (and unexpectedly slower-than-usual) traffic just made me absolutely livid.

I pulled off the freeway and started taking surface streets, expecting those would be much quicker. Except the surface streets were backed up too. I couldn't win. There was no way I'd get there on time, so now I was on damage control, hoping to make it there not too terribly late.

I had already been driving for two hours, and had polished off a 24 oz. Citrus Stinger from Robek's at the start of the journey. So I was dying to use the bathroom at this point, but knew I had to race to the school and thus didn't have time to stop for a pee-break. I kept soldiering on, traffic still as ridiculous as ever, until I realized that my bladder was about to burst.

So being the stubborn yet resourceful individual that I am, I decided to take care of business then and there. While driving.

I waited 'til I got to a stoplight so that I could focus on one thing at a time. I looked for a receptacle to use; the Robek's cup was the first thing I saw so I grabbed it, removed the lid, and attempted to position myself properly in order to work out the logistics of this rather Sysyphian task. I didn't have much time, and--being a tall guy--didn't have a whole lot of room to work with, so I stayed basically seated, managed to get the two intervening layers of clothing out of the way, and started to position the cup in a way so that gravity would be working with me, not against.

(All of this, mind you, is without any real care or concern for potential onlookers in the vehicles on either side of me. At this point, I needed to do what I needed to do.)

I couldn't get into a good position, though, lest I sit higher up and completely expose myself to my fellow motorists. So I kept toying with the cup, looking for the best angle to place it at, since I couldn't hold it at a perfectly 90º angle.

And just as I figured I'd found a decent-enough angle, I felt it:

A cold glob of the Robek's smoothie that had remained in the bottom of the cup spilled out all over my business.

And then the light turned green.

So I drove with the Citrus Stinger (thankfully not an entirely-accurate name) in my pants for a good minute, until I managed to find a napkin from the backseat, clean myself off, and continue on in the awful traffic.

But pretty much from that moment on, the day got a lot better. I mean, it couldn't have gotten any worse, right? I pulled off the road a few minutes later to use the cup in a more upright position, and then continued on to the event, which, as it turns out, everyone was late in getting to, so I wasn't in trouble at all.

In truth, I think it was just what I needed to relieve the tension of the day: a moment to laugh at myself. 'Cause once a bad day just gets to be that absurd, then it's almost no longer a bad day.

It becomes a bit comical as well.

42. An open letter to Steve Jobs.

Steve,

Hey! Former Apple employee / iCult clergyman Dave here. Lovin' the iPhone 3G so far--nice work with that! I was a bit hesitant to jump on the iBandwagon at first, but I'm glad I capitulated; it's definitely one of the best things ever! And that Shazam application? Outta control, man...outta control.

But all glowing comments about Apple products aside, I'm actually writing to gush over another one of your brainchildren:

Pixar.

Last night I re-watched Ratatouille with a friend who's on her way to Paris for a week or so, and man oh man, that movie totally brings you to the City of Lights. Visually, it's absolutely stunning--as are all Pixar flicks--but it's also so good at transporting you into the sensory-laden world of food that you begin to taste the sumptuous food in your mind. And not only that, but it's so imaginatively well-written; you fully buy into the absurd notion of a rodent--a rodent!--becoming a master chef in one of Paris' top restaurants.

Top notch, man. Really, truly scrumtrulescent.

And that's not even my favorite Pixar film; it's probably behind The Incredibles and Monsters Inc. for me. I loved Wall*E, and I hope it gets a Best Picture nod this year.

But really, as far as I'm concerned, Pixar can do no wrong.

So, just know that whatever formula you stumbled across in that maniacal and manic brain of yours, well, it's working. Please don't ever stop making films like these. I swear my animation allegiance to you guys--I've sworn off Shrek and all the other Dreamworks dreck for good. And if you and Disney are ever at odds again, you know whose side I'll be on (and it's not the side with the stupid mouse as the corporate spokesperson).

Sincerely yours,
A tremendous fan

P.S. All fanboy raving aside, I was actually quite heartbroken to hear about one of the new features in iMovie '09. Turns out your team of crackpot Cupertino geniuses included an "animated map" feature, which is something I've been devising in my head for a year or so now. And, ironically enough, just days prior to the iMovie '09 unveiling, I'd made friends with some folks who might've been able to help me get the project off the ground. But noooooo, you and your technocratic thugs had to come and steal that idea from right underneath me. Well, I'm not through with my idea yet, and if I can get some funding and find someone who knows how to program in Javascript, I'll be coming after you, Steve-o. Just you wait, fruit man.

Monday, January 12, 2009

41. We go waaaaaay back.

I did a massive cleaning of my side of the room this past week, the sort of cleaning that turns up objects that have gone missing for years (among some of the items I found: a gift card for Guitar Center, a book I meant to read about 8 months ago, the Beach Boys' "lost" album SMILE, and Jimmy Hoffa).

I also thumbed through several notepads I'd held on to (as we've already established, I'm a bit of a packrat, and notepads are ripe with juicy, mundane details about everyday life). One of the notepads contained a pretty cool page I'd almost forgotten about.

It's a handwritten list of names copied from a website that has since inexplicably disappeared from the internet. The website was an extensive genealogy of the Cloud* family (my mom's family) in America; the page I'd hand-copied from the site was a generation-by-generation accounting of my own ancestors, dating back to 1502.

I mourn the disappearance of the website from whence this list came, but I'm very glad to have rediscovered this page in my notebook. I've always been a bit fascinated with genealogy--whether my own or others'--as it provides a very humanizing and personalizing element to the cold, hard facts of history; a clear picture of how close we are to events we consider to be in the ancient past.

In my case, I've come to find that I'm only five generations removed--meaning my mom's grandfather's grandfather--from Nathaniel Cloud, Jr., who fought for the Union Army in the Civil War; his grandfather, very likely, fought in the Revolutionary War. You only need to go several generations further (a total of 11 from me) to find William Cloud arriving in America with William Penn, sometime around 1660.

(1660...that's nearly 350 years ago. Kinda blew my mind when I first saw that. It still kinda does.)

I don't think there'll be any trouble keeping accurate and detailed records of genealogy from this day and age on. If anything, our descendants will have too much information about us. ("Whoa...did you know Great-Great-Great-Grandpa Dave once enjoyed something called 'Guitar Hero'? He mentioned it on his blog once." "Guitar Hero? Blog? What are those things?" "Uhh...I have no idea. Probably something necessary for his survival in such a primitive society.")

But it's a pretty cool thing to currently be able to trace my family tree back several hundred years--considering the incomplete and often scarce records from the 19th century on down.

Not everyone can say that. (Not that anyone is particularly dying to say that.)



*Truth be told, I've often toyed with the idea of using "Cloud" as my last name in a pseudonym, swapping it in for my weird, oft-mispronounced/misspelled Swedish last name.

Sunday, January 11, 2009

40. Awareness

Tonight our church screened a documentary film about the rampant human trafficking that exists in the world today.

The film was--I'm sad to say--not very well done* (high on production value and shameless self-promotion, very little in the way of narrative, pacing, focus, and overall cohesion), but the subject matter was powerful enough to transcend the weak filmmaking. In the end, the film succeeded in its primary goal: to raise awareness about the sex-and labor-slave trafficking industries, including those operating right underneath our noses here in the good ol' US of A.

I came out of the screening mindful of several things to be grateful for.

As I alluded to in my bad haiku from a few nights back, I am incredibly, inexplicably fortunate to have been born into a pretty enviable set of circumstances, when compared to others throughout the world and throughout history. Seeing the scenes of young children forced to work as soldiers, slaves, or prostitutes--and knowing that I will never, ever know anything remotely similar to those horrific life experiences--made me remember just what an incredibly favorable hand I have been dealt.

I'm grateful, too, that there are people who--having been dealt the same hand as I--are actively working to bring an end to human-trafficking, including an inspiring group of such people within my church. I'm glad they created the opportunity for me and many others to see a film like this; it certainly opened my eyes, whereas before I didn't really think slavery was all that big of a deal anymore. (Turns out, it's even worse now than it was in the 19th century.) As I drove home tonight, I started to think about the potential human trafficking that takes place in my neighborhood; I started to consider my patterns of consumption (food, clothing, electronics, etc), and wondered how much these patterns cause me to unknowingly contribute to the misery of others.

Not that any of this can or will change overnight, but I'm thankful for having been made aware of this tragic issue, and now knowing about it, can decide what I should do in my own sphere of influence to help put an end to human trafficking.

As G.I. Joe used to say, "Now you know, and knowing is half the battle."


*I will say that--among the numerous interludes featuring performances by well-known rock bands (as well as...the director of the film)--I was blown away by a rendition of Radiohead's "Exit Music for a Film" as performed by members of Nickel Creek.

39. A new year's resolution (of sorts).

It's late, so I don't necessarily feel up for teaching a lesson in semantics. Which is fine, since most of my readership (which means all three of you) would likely not learn anything from said lesson that you didn't already know.

But. When I say this post is about "a new year's resolution," I say "resolution" to mean "resolve; to be resolute." Not quite the same as the way we've come to understand the word as it is traditionally associated with New Year's (which, for me, would be as follows: res•o•lu•tion--noun: 1. a promise made to myself for the umpteenth year in a row that this year, this year, I'll actually get into the gym on a consistent basis and put on a good 15 pounds of muscle...only to invariably give up by mid-March.")

I'm coming into 2009 with a greater sense of determination than I had in 2008.

Maybe it's due to the fact that I made good on my promise to do something unique on the first of the year, and ended up jumping into a freezing cold body of water in an amazing Canadian city I'd never been to before. I don't want to use the term "empowering" to describe the event, 'cause that would be obnoxiously over-the-top. But it did allow me to immediately start the year off with a sense of accomplishment, however small as it may have been. The bet made on New Year's Eve certainly hasn't hurt, either; in that case, I know that I absolutely have to make good on the task set before me, because, hey--money's on the line.

Combine those events with some recent conversations and readings, and the result has been a great overall feeling about the new year. Even just ten days in, I've noticed that I'm being more proactive and assertive, procrastinating slightly (very slightly) less, and expecting to make 2009 a very productive and successful year both personally and professionally.

Contrast that with a year ago: I came into 2008 on a real emotional low--despondent, severely depressed, filled with a numbing sense of meaninglessness. And, as I came to realize the other day, that ominous sense of debilitation sort of carried on throughout the year. I basically let the year "happen" to me. I didn't take charge of anything, really; whether it was in dating relationships, in my living situation, or in my various creative endeavors, I passively allowed things to happen to me--good, bad, or otherwise--without any real motivation to change my circumstances whenever I could.

Looking back, it was a difficult year, but also--quite likely--a necessary year. Having gone through it, I'm now ready to have a year that is--in many ways--quite unlike it.

So in the past few days, I've finished a massive cleaning of my room, taken small but significant steps forward on a few creative projects I've been toying around with for a year, stepped outside my comfort zone and ended up meeting some great new folks, and re-dedicated myself to completing the VW documentary. And on Monday, I'm hitting the gym...for reals.

I honestly don't know if the current surge of energy and drive will last. I hope it will, but I also know myself well enough to know that the slightly-manic yin of my personality eventually gives way to the slightly-depressive yang.

But even if the depressive side eventually comes to the fore, it's very possible that I may have found the resolve that I lacked for much--if not all--of last year. And for that, I'm incredibly grateful.

Maybe next January 1st, I'll walk on hot coals.

Saturday, January 10, 2009

38. That's the way we do in the age of Web 2.0.

One of my favorite things in life happens to be meeting new people.

(I'd say this happens for me on a fairly regular basis, though not as often as I'd perhaps like.)

I especially enjoy meeting people at friends' parties, as was the case tonight.

And--I kinda hate to admit it--but nowadays, the thing I love almost as much as (or perhaps as much as) meeting new people?

The facebook-adding that invariably takes place after the event.

Friday, January 9, 2009

37. To those of us from USC, he's simply known as St. Pete.

Tonight, as the BS-riddled debacle that is the BCS produced yet another somewhat-dubious national champion in NCAA college football* (oh, right: congrats, Gators), I'm going to say a few words about a man I am tremendously grateful to be associated with through my standing as an alumnus** of the University of Southern California:

Pete Carroll.

See, when I first enrolled at USC, Trojan Football had fallen on hard times. We were a traditional college football powerhouse whose glory days had long since become a thing of the past. In fact, my freshman and sophomore years were downright embarrassing for us Trojans--two of the worst seasons the school has ever had. The only redeeming factor was that in both years we beat our cross-town rival--ucla--salvaging otherwise-pathetic football seasons.

But then Pete Carroll was hired to take the reins of the program. And after that (well, and a shaky first year), everything turned around. My senior year, we finished the season 11-2, and were ranked 4th in the nation upon demolishing Iowa in the Orange Bowl.

And since then, we've never ended a season ranked lower than that.

In the span of six years, we've won a pair of national championships and have come this close to winning or playing for the national title in several other years. Under Coach Carroll, USC has indisputably been the most dominant football team of the 00's, creating a hegemony that has made our school's "glory days" a thing of the present...and foreseeable future.

But that might not be what I love most about Pete Carroll. I love that he's such a joy to behold; his every step on and off the field is filled with an infectiously-enthusiastic, fun-loving, and kinetic energy that is very likely unparalleled by that of any other football coach, ever.

After watching our ridiculously lopsided victory in the Rose Bowl last week, Austin and I spent hours singing the praises of St. Pete. Talk of him possibly being the "best college football coach ever" is now moot--a foregone conclusion, we decided; the real debate now should be whether or not Pete Carroll is the "greatest American ever."

Consider the following pieces of evidence from a recent "60 Minutes" broadcast, which showcase not only Pete's success as USC's coach, but also some of his extraordinary work off the football field:





I am incredibly proud to be associated with this guy. The Trojan Family is so very fortunate to claim such a talented, upbeat, and, yes, boyishly good-looking individual as one of our one.


*No, I'm really not bitter. Under the current system, Florida is the rightful National Champion. I'm just pretty sure that--outside of Gainesville--you'd be hard pressed to find someone who doesn't truly believe that there's still some unfinished business from this season of college football. Florida, USC, Utah, and maybe even Texas could all make a case for being the #1 team in the country at this point. That certainly wouldn't be the case if a playoff system was created...

**Not to mention, I had the distinct pleasure of interviewing him on my college talk show back in the day.

Thursday, January 8, 2009

36. Creature comforts - another bad haiku.

Warm with health and greens
Room and car and friends, secure
Lucky one percent.


(Sometimes nothing overly amazing happens in a given day. Which is good, because there are a lot of unremarkable things to be thankful for, and they need to get some love on this blog at some point.)

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

35. On travel:

“Travel is more than the seeing of sights; it is a change that goes on, deep and permanent, in the ideas of living."
-- Miriam Beard


"No one realizes how beautiful it is to travel until he comes home and rests his head on his old, familiar pillow."
-- Lin Yutang

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

34. Well, I do happen to come from Nevada.

I love a good wager, bet, or dare made with a friend.

Now, I'm not one to bet on sporting events. Or dogfights. (Or even catfights, for that matter.)* I'm talking about bets or dares that have purpose and meaning behind them; ones made between friends with the intended goal of pushing one another, challenging each to improve in some aspect of life.

Maybe we Americans should replace our tired old New Year's Resolution with a New Year's Challenge. Or New Year's Wager. I--like most people, I'm sure--am terrible at keeping resolutions. I rarely break a 30% completion rate. But that might well change if I have someone challenging me and holding me accountable for my performance (often with a monetary reward/punishment as added motivation).

As mentioned before, Austin and I made up one such wager on New Year's Eve, and promptly invited our friend Jonathan to join us in the yearlong bet (he gladly agreed). It's a bit preposterous, I suppose, but it'll be a good motivator for the three of us. Without going into any of the salacious details, I will say that $50 is potentially on the line each month for the three of us, and if that doesn't motivate me to improve in a particular area of life (told you, I'm not revealing it), I don't know what will.

Plus, a ridiculous bet is a LOT of fun, both to plan out and to carry out. Austin and I probably laughed our heads off for a good hour--and several more since--as we drafted up and discussed elements/rules to include in our Bet of 2009. And I can imagine we (along with Jonathan) will have many more hours of enjoyable--if not playfully heated--discussion throughout the year.

Maybe come the end of the year, I'll let you know what the bet is. If you're lucky, that is.


* I have been known, however, to bet on the occasional card game and presidential election once in a while.

Monday, January 5, 2009

33. Diff'rent strokes (sorry, not the actual TV show).

I went to a church today that was interesting--and quite a bit different from the ones I've called home.

I like the experience of going to other churches. Even if I don't entirely agree with their theology or focus, it's good to see the way other Christians do things.

And I guess this is a good value for life in general: to explore places, people, food, activities, and ideas that are quite unlike those you're used to. Because you will always end up learning something.

Saturday, January 3, 2009

32. For sharing a portion of the journey with me.

If there's one thing about the nature of life that I've learned over the last five or six years, it's that God puts people in our lives for certain reasons and certain seasons (I know; that rhyme scheme sounds way too much like a pastor's mnemonic sermon device).

The relationships we form throughout our time on Earth are--more often than not--transient and fleeting. The majority of people who play any sizable role in each of our existences will only do so for a (relatively) short period of time, save for the small handful that will be lifelong fixtures.

While I once found this to be an incredibly disheartening reality, I've since found the silver lining: God brings people into our lives for very specific and significant reasons--usually to bless and encourage us along the way.

So I've learned to take a certain bittersweet joy in knowing that I have been blessed by the friends, colleagues, mentors, and yes, girlfriends, who--even if our time together was ultimately short--have been there to serve as fellow sojourners, sharing a portion of life's journey with me.

I'm thankful that during all of 2006 and much of 2007, I had one such fellow sojourner who walked very closely with me; who continually provided me with encouragement, support, and love as I made my way through some very difficult and oft-confusing paths. I'm thankful for the things I learned from her, and that in her I had someone whom I could love, protect, and serve. I'm grateful that we were attracted to the goodness and beauty we found in each other, and were able to inspire more of it in one another.

Even though much of what transpired in our post-relationship phase was quite difficult and painful for me, I'm ultimately grateful that she played a significant role in my life. And that we were able to share a portion of our respective journeys together.

And so, on this day that she becomes a wife, I wish her all the best. I pray for peace, hope, and joy for her and her new husband as they continue to sojourn together, now and for as long as they both shall live.

Congratulations, Julie.

31. Inspiration.

I got a lot of it today:

I hung out with some amazing and talented people. Toured around a stunningly beautiful city (again, Vancouver) and got to see glimpses another awe-inspiring one (Seattle). Enjoyed some great food. Visited an unreal corporate headquarters (Austin and I got a late night tour of the office building his friends work out of--for a little software company called "Microsoft"). Spent the evening seeing amazing talent and creativity being used in wonderful ways. And to top it all off, tonight I'm staying in an insanely cool house just outside of Seattle tonight.

Yeah. I'd say the second day of 2009 kinda knocked my socks off.

Thursday, January 1, 2009

30. Now legitimately a day or two behind in posting...

...but I am SO glad to be in Vancouver! Such a stunningly beautiful city. I'm definitely falling in love with this place.

I'm incredibly glad to have come here for a different sort of New Year's. Because, truth be told, I'm not much of a New Year's person.

See, I've always kinda hated the idea of celebrating the end of one year and start of another. Don't get me wrong--I pretty much love any excuse to celebrate--but the idea of celebrating the passage of time always kind of depresses me. I have a very acute (and perhaps unhealthy) sense that time is fleeting, and so celebrating the end of a given year fills me with a bit of existential dread.

That, and I've always found New Year's Eve celebrations to be utterly predictable and pedestrian--the idea of going to another boring New Year's Eve house party could very well be considered my fifth level of Hell.

So on January 1st of the newly-completed year past, I made a decision: I would forego the traditional New Year's Eve celebration, and in lieu of the ball-drop-watching / champagne-sipping / charades-playing / party-blower-blowing monotony, I would focus on New Year's Day. That, too me, was where the real potential lay. I decided that something exciting should take place on the first day of the given new year; for me, that something would have to involve doing something I've never done before. What better, more symbolic way to kick off the new year than by embarking on a brand new adventure, if even just for the day?

My trip here to Vancouver--a city which is winning me over like crazy, by the way--is that inaugural adventure. Last night's prime activity involved going to a hoppin' restaurant (with, if you'll allow me, a ridiculously gorgeous--and super-friendly!--waitstaff) for some amazing food and drink. Our main conversation over the course of the evening was regarding the details of a bet that Austin and I were making for ourselves in 2009. Fairly chill--kinda the way I like my New Years' to be.

And on today--the first day of 2009--the adventure, the never-done-before activity, involved jumping into the freezing cold water of the English Bay wearing but a pair of swimtrunks. It's Vancouver's New Year's Day tradition: several thousand people strong braved the near-freezing temperatures and residual snow to take part in the city's 89th annual Polar Bear Swim.

It was invigorating. It was a bit comical. And it was definitely something I'm glad to have done, if only because it's something I've never done before.

It wasn't a long adventure--the entire ordeal took about 20 minutes (which gave us enough time to catch the second half of USC's resounding victory in the Rose Bowl). And it wasn't particularly adventurous, at least not for me. But it's a start: a great start to the new year, and the start of what I hope will become a long-standing tradition for myself.