Christmas Time

I was reading over my previous posts on this blog and stumbled upon this one (written, but never published) for December 2, 2007:

"Every year I look forward to the Holiday Season because it's the one time of year that I get to spend with my loved ones without fail. I've missed birthdays, graduations, and so many other occasions from having to live so far from home. But Christmas time is always spent with friends and family. And like clockwork, every year there always seems to be one defining moment leading up to Christmas that truly ushers it in for me. Sometimes it's a movie I watch, a conversation I have, or even an old friend I just so happen to run into. This year it was a song. On one of our random Awana trips to Starbucks, I was lounging with Brian while waiting for everyone to get their drinks, or finish their chicken legs (long story) when "Christmas Time is Here" by Vince Guaraldi came on. Brian and I just sat there for a few minutes listening till the song ended and we all got up to leave. On my way out, two thoughts came to my mind: The first was just how much I enjoyed sitting there enjoying the music for no reason at all. I sat there never wanting to leave and I couldn't even explain why (how often do we really ever just sit and listen to music nowadays?) The second was a reminder of how I take for granted the great friends and people I've met throughout my life. Talking to Brian while sitting there just reminded me how precious friendships are. For all I know, a year from now, Brian could be hundreds of miles away, our time together reduced to monthly phone calls or bi-yearly visits. This Christmas season, I'm thankful for loved ones. Thank God. Merry Christmas"

If I remember correctly, this was the semester after Brian spent a year in Indonesia. For all I knew he could have gone back for who knows how long.

So this year, thank God for friends.

I asked the Lord...

I asked the Lord that I might grow

In faith, and love, and every grace;

Might more of His salvation know,

And seek, more earnestly, His face.

’Twas He who taught me thus to pray,

And He, I trust, has answered prayer!

But it has been in such a way,

As almost drove me to despair.

I hoped that in some favored hour,

At once He’d answer my request;

And by His love’s constraining pow’r,

Subdue my sins, and give me rest.

Instead of this, He made me feel

The hidden evils of my heart;

And let the angry pow’rs of hell

Assault my soul in every part.

Yea more, with His own hand He seemed

Intent to aggravate my woe;

Crossed all the fair designs I schemed,

Blasted my gourds, and laid me low.

Lord, why is this, I trembling cried,

Wilt thou pursue thy worm to death?

“’Tis in this way, the Lord replied,

I answer prayer for grace and faith.

These inward trials I employ,

From self, and pride, to set thee free;

And break thy schemes of earthly joy,

That thou may’st find thy all in Me.”

This is quickly becoming my favorite hymn. It's scary to think how many times I've prayed the beginning prayer in however many words. "I asked the Lord that I might grow in faith, and love, and every grace; might more of His salvation know, and seek, more earnestly, His face." Even this trite, readymade prayer holds such power. God answers prayer. Maybe not how you intended Him to. But he answers. We are, after all, speaking to the creator of the universe.

One is the loneliest number (but not really)

I think I've been getting a little too comfortable by myself. You know you reach this point when you start wondering whether hell really is other people. It's easy to imagine when you reach the point where the smallest things set you off (at least on the inside). Like when someone's laugh is a tiny pitch too high for your liking. Or when people just so happen to press every single floor before your own when they get into the elevator. Or when someone cuts you off on the road and you find yourself repeating that God's grace is sufficient for you to avoid an inevitably disastrous retaliation. Ok, maybe it's not that bad, but in short, I need to force myself to see people. Other than my boss, that is. 3 reasons why.

1. I'm forgetting how to communicate with other homo sapiens.

The other day, I was talking to one of the parking guys for my building and when he asked me how my boss was doing, I couldn't quite make out what he had asked me so I asked for clarification, but instead of saying "Excuse me?" or "I'm sorry?", I uttered some incoherence that can only described as something in between animal yelp and Cro-magnon man. It was literally:

Me: Hahaha too much work sometimes.

Parking guy: [smiling in agreement before asking] How's An?

Me: Huhhl?

I think he just stood there for a few seconds before repeating to me what he'd just said very slowly, sounding out every syllable of the simple two syllable question, like you would to an infant.

2. Nothing I see in the cave that I inhabit called the office holds any bearing on reality.

A few weeks ago I was introduced to the phrase "ftw". I then proceeded to type www.google.com in my address bar before typing "ftw" in the search bar. Google for the win.

3. I have no idea what's going on.

Last week my boss found out it was Columbus Day at 10 in the morning on the day of.

So did I. In fact, I had to google "federal holidays" to figure out when I wouldn't have to come in to work again.

I think for the last few weeks, it's been ok since I have my friends the book, the TV and exercise to keep me company. But I think I'm realizing now that I need to actually make an effort to see other people. This is something I've never had to do before. Strange.

*on an unrelated note, Redeemer.com just posted 150 Tim Keller sermons online for free. Looks like 150 more commutes are taken care of for me. Thanks John for the heads up.

Glorious (sorry long entry)

I absolutely relish playing the part of the obnoxious opposing fan. I'm not ashamed to say it's a sort of elementary type of pleasure. Like the kind Nelson from the Simpsons gets whenever he says "HA HA!" (Someone needs to invent a legitimate way of expressing stresses for the English language). If you don't know who Nelson is, it's this kid:

They say a picture is worth a thousand words. When I think about who I become when my team is thoroughly thrashing another team that I have a deep hatred for, I see this kid. My inner Nelson comes out. And anyone who's ever seen me at a Cal football game can attest to this (Joann, why are you strangely the first person to come to mind?). When I see this picture, I think of all the times I've run over to a losing team/fan and said something that runs along the lines of "HA HA!" while feeling only a subconscious underdeveloped awareness of how annoying I really am to them.


I'm proud of my Cal Bears. Despite two straight Pac-10 losses in their only games against really good teams. I'm proud of them. They played great today. A few mistakes here and there, but I'm not about to get nitpicky with a team that averaged 3 points a game for the past two. Which brings me back to my original motive for writing this entry.


As you can probably deduce from the above title, I decided to name this entry "Glorious". You see my friends, I reserve this word for days like this. If Cal football would ever happen to knock off USC at the Coliseum (or even at home for that matter), I would consider that glorious. Or if Cal were ever to win the Rose Bowl or win the National Championship, that would be glorious. Oh and every so often, I might use it in a praise song, but that's beside the point.


The point is, today's win was glorious. Why you ask? Why does a Pac-10 win against a 3-3 (0-3 in Pac-10 play--my inner Nelson urged me to include that little snippet) UCLA team gain the title of "glorious"? Because Tedford hadn't won a single game in LA during his Cal tenure. Because for the past 6 years, we've shot ourselves in the foot whenever we came to the Rose Bowl. Because while walking through the golf course toward the Rose Bowl, I felt the giddiness of a superficial 15-year old prepubescent girl wondering whether she'd be prettier than all the other girls at her high school.


Let's just say UCLA ended up being the DUFF (Designated Ugly Fat Friend) and we were the pretty girls around her. UCLA made us look good. REAL GOOD. Same goes for the fans. Now I'm all for verbal jousting amongst fans. I think it's part of what make sports so fun to watch. But honestly, if my team gets dominated like it did last week against USC, I shut my mouth and take whatever they give me. If you're going to identify yourself with a team, you better be able to lose graciously WITH them. Now as I've mentioned, I love being the loud-mouth trash talker to fans of the opposing team. Before I continue with some of the best quotes of the day, I'll only prime you by telling you that we won 45-26, and let's be honest UCLA fans, it wasn't nearly as close as even that score may seem.


1. "UCLA...SUCKS!"
That pause after UCLA is crucial. Why? Because you raise your fist in the air and shout "UCLA!!!" as if you're a lowly Bruin fan in order to bait the appropriate response, which is some form of acknowledgment that we belong to the same clan (usually a fist pump and a "YEAH!!!") But little do they know that that "SUCKS!!!" is waiting for them like a fist to the back of the head. BAM!!!! YOU JUST PARTICIPATED IN TRASHING YOUR OWN TEAM!!!! HA HA!!!


2. "Bruins!!! (as a sign of camaraderie), ALL IS NOT LOST!!!...YOU NEVER HAD ANYTHING TO BEGIN WITH!!!
Once again, that pause after "LOST!!!" is absolutely crucial. Why? Because you give them a glimmer of hope for some sort of comfort or consolation after losing (but only for about a second) before slapping them upside the head with the insult that their team had no business hoping for any sort of prize short of a consolation. Oh wait a minute, we don't even give them that. Once again, my inner Nelson. "HA HA!!!"


Now before I move on to my last quote, I'd just like to mention that every so often, a stroke of brilliance comes over me that always leaves me stunned and wondering, "GREAT ODIN'S RAVEN!!!, HOW IN THE WORLD WAS I SO INCREDIBLY...BRILLIANT?!!" (in Ron Burgundy-esque parody). This last quote was produced by one of these moments.


3. Now continuing with the theme of Will Ferrell, imagine me with this look on my face:

What does this face tell you? That's a look of genuine, unmitigated concern. This is the look of a man who has something very important to say and whether or not you believe me, you better listen up because I'm only concerned with your well-being.


Now imagine me running over to the UCLA section with this look on my face after a pick-6 late in the fourth quarter that stuck a dagger through their hearts and shook it all around, tearing apart every single chamber wall of their hearts leaving only a sad, indistinguishable, mutilated pile of human tissue.


Now imagine me shouting "GUYS!!!...GUYS!!!...GUYS!!!" with the above look on my face (Go ahead, scroll up to refresh your memory).


Now imagine me shouting "IT'S OK TO LEAVE NOW!!!...I'M PRETTY SURE!!! IT'S OK TO LEAVE!!! YOU GUYS CAN GO!!!"


Now imagine me shouting "WAIT!!! GUYS!!! WAIT!!!"


before shouting "NEVER MIND!!! IT'S OK TO LEAVE!!! YOU GUYS CAN LEAVE!!!"




I know. I know. My hatred runs deep. But damn it, hatred brings about such great comedy. Now I have one more thing to say before I let you guys go. As I mentioned before, if I'm ever on the losing side of a thrashing like this one, I'll shut up and take what the fans give me. It's common sense really, I mean, what can you really say, right? Your team just lost.


I guess someone in LA didn't get that memo.


Now just like ESPN, I've given you my Top 10, or Top 3 for that matter. Now I give you my 2 worst of the day. As I'm walking out of the Rose Bowl through the tunnel shouting "BACK TO THE BOTTOM BRUINS!!! BACK TO THE BOTTOM!!!" and "I GUESS IT'S NOT THE COACHING HUH?!!!", I hear a sniveling UCLA fan (think Golem from Lord of the Rings) attempt to shout out box scores from the past two weeks in his Peewee herman-like, ring-tone voice.


1. Verbatim, he shouts, "42-0!!! 47-0!!!"
First of all, if you're going to call out box scores, at least get them right. In the words of Jim Calhoun, "GET SOME FACTS AND COME BACK AND SEE ME". I'll reserve my second point for number two since it's overarching.


2. "Well, you guys are like 1-6 in LA"
Do you remember Clueless? You know that movie starring Alicia Silverstone and two other girls that no one knows what happened to? Well, think Clueless when you pronounce that "like" in the above phrase. It was literally just like that. Straight up valley ditz status. Only, it came from a fat, middle-aged, hispanic guy with a full-grown beard. My response to that was: "what does that have anything to do with the fact that you lost today?". Honestly (this is where I address Smigel from Lord of the Rings), anything bad you have to say about the team you just lost to makes your team look even worse. If you're going to shout out box scores from the past two weeks, you're shouting out to the world just how bad your team is, seeing as to how you just got thrashed by a team that lost "42-0, 47-0". If you're going to tell me that we're 1-6 in LA, then you just lost to a team that's 1-6 in LA you pathetic excuse for a college graduate!!! HEY IDIOTS!!! IT DOESN'T TAKE A WHOLE LOT OF BRAIN TO REALIZE THAT THE MORE YOU TRASH TALK, THE LOWER YOU BRING YOUR OWN PATHETIC EXCUSE FOR A FOOTBALL TEAM!!!


My love-affair with the caps lock continues.


I can only imagine just how Nelson-like I'll become when we beat USC. Maybe I'll wear a denim vest to the game. I leave you with this.

Thoughts (from this past week)

I spent 10 minutes trying to think of a clever, witty title for this entry, but I can't. So, here are some thoughts from this past week. I'll try to think of a better title next time.

The long-awaited grudge match between USC and Cal happened this past week. All I can say is, we got dominated. That's all I'll say about that. But right before the game, before entering the stadium, I got the rare opportunity to watch Peter Carroll and the USC players walk into our stadium to get ready for the game. Now for all you nons, Pete Carroll could potentially go down as one of the greatest college football coaches of all time. And the Trojans are chock-full of future NFL Pro-Bowl talent. I literally thanked God for the opportunity to witness such an event. I was straight up Charlie and the Chocolate Factory status as I ran up to that bus. This was my golden wrapper.

So what did I do?

I started shouting near-obscenities non-stop at the top of my lungs with hands cupped over my mouth for added volume and emphasis. I've always said, "to USC, we're just another team to beat, but to us, USC is the devil". I think the mic man put it best when he said, "THOSE PLAYERS, THOSE FANS, THAT SCHOOL... REPRESENT EVERYTHING THAT IS WRONG IN THIS WORLD!!!". That pretty much sums up how strongly I feel about USC.

So what am I getting at? In between my shouts of "LET'S GO HUSKIES!", "WE WANT CORP!" and "WE WANT A SALARY CAP", all I could hear was myself. Now people have always told me that I have a notoriously loud outdoor voice. So I knew everyone could hear me. In fact, I could have been deaf and their eyes alone would have told me that. When all the players walked in after giving me the dirtiest glares a football team named after a condom could seriously give, a fellow Cal fan walked up to me cracking up and shook my hand while telling me "That was awesome man".

But why was I the only one? What the hell? This program's done everything short of getting on a loudspeaker to tell the world that they cheat and pay their athletes and not a word? No one hates Florida the way people hate SC. PEOPLE HATE SC FOR A REASON. Give me a break. Save professionalism for the NFL. This is college football. Not golf.

On a completely unrelated note, I was with my boss deciding where to eat lunch when we stumbled upon this Korean restaurant in where else but K-town. As we sat down, she suggested I order the "Soh muhlee gook bap" which could literally be translated into cow head soup with rice. But I didn't care, I was hungry so I assumed that cow head soup could be translated into something else that my ignorant, barely korean and far too American upbringing never taught me.

So the food comes out and I try some of the soup before I begin to add my salt and other "accoutrement" (I know, I just jumped on the friend ladder) and I realize that this tastes just like suhlungtang. So I'm super happy seeing as to how I haven't been able to have suhlungtang for what feels like ages. Halfway through the meal, I reach down to the bottom of the bowl for my clear suhlungtang noodles and there aren't any. Any of you who have ever had suhlungtang know what these noodles are. They're like the the top to a muffin. Sometimes they're the only reason I order suhlungtang. YOU CAN'T EFFING HAVE AN EFFING MUFFIN WITHOUT THE EFFING TOP!!! AND YOU CAN'T EFFING HAVE EFFING SUHLUNGTANG WITHOUT THE EFFING CLEAR EFFING NOODLES!!!

Allow me to digress for the sake of better expressing my disappointment in that moment. I remember when I was a little kid, maybe four years old, I saw two older kids getting into an argument. As their words got more and more heated, I remember thinking that this could turn ugly real quick. Suddenly, one kid (the fat one, because there's always a fat kid in fight memories that turn funny at the end) shouts at the top of his lungs and says "YOU'RE F****** LUCKY I'M A CHRISTIAN, CAUSE IF I WASN'T, I WOULD BEAT THE S*** OUT OF YOU!!!". People say I remember EVERYTHING. There's a reason I remember so much. Usually it's because whatever it is was so hilarious to me at the time that it made an indelible impression on my sense of humor and self that would never leave me. THIS was one of those moments.

But I digress (whoever was the first one to say this needs to be punched). When I brought my spoon up from the bottom of that bowl with only rice and soup, I felt what that aforementioned fat kid felt. My anger was straight up feral, primal, call it what you want. Gluttony had nothing to do with it. It was an anger stemming from the fact that THE WORLD SHOULD NEVER ALLOW THINGS TO COME TO THIS. I was about to knock my table over in front of everyone during a busy lunch hour, walk to the manager and shout "YOU'RE F****** LUCKY I'M A CHRISTIAN, CAUSE IF I WASN'T, I WOULD BEAT THE S*** OUT OF YOU!!!!" No joke. I was angry. So angry in fact, I felt this injustice needed to be rectified through this blog that no one ever reads. Lesson of the day? I don't know if there is one, just don't ever give me suhlungtang without clear noodles or I'll turn into a fat kid and give you some great comedy.

Collecting

My friend Sam got deployed to Kuwait for a year. We'll all miss you Sam.

For some reason, there just so happened to be a Sharpie and lip-liner in my car. Sucks for Drew.

Darth Maul

We'll miss you Sam. Be safe.

Time is of the essence...

so I won't post a full entry. But I will tell you that what I'm going to post next is going to be utterly hilarious. Maybe the funniest thing you've seen all year. Stay tuned.

Ev'ry time we say goodbye

I don't know why I named this entry what I did. But all I know is I'm listening to Ella Fitzgerald sing it and it's getting me pretty emotional. I've probably said this once before, but I hate making big purchases. Whenever you buy something significant, for at least the first month or two, you're always so consumed with keeping it in mint-condition that you don't even get to enjoy it like you should.

I swear if I ever meet a girl named Ilsa, I'll propose to her on the spot. Ilsa's just a beautiful name isn't it? There's no possible way there's a girl on this planet named Ilsa that isn't beautiful. It's just not possible. Whenever a guy names something of his after a girl, it's gotta be special. I'm not really that big on naming things, but if I had to use that name for something, it had better be pretty damn special.

A week ago, my mom woke me up just as I was falling asleep and gave me some horrible news. I still remember it like it was yesterday. Those words will never leave me: "You gotta get a new car". My heart sank immediately.

I've had this car since '04 and it's been the only thing in my life that I've loved for that long. It, or she (might as well start now), still runs like new and has been nothing but faithful to me. We're going on 5 years now. I even pay double for synthetic just to make her happy. I love this girl.

I guess for the past week or so I've been reminiscing and cherishing the memories we've had together. Four girlfriends, college, endless snowboarding and beach trips come to mind. But mostly, I'll remember never having trouble that wasn't expected. Ilsa was always faithful. And just like Ingrid Bergman (wow, is that really two straight Casablanca references?), I guess I'm reluctantly parting with her for the best.

Here's looking at you, kid.

The times they are a-changin'

My friends John and Linda got engaged tonight (congrats guys, I can't say I've ever seen a happier couple). That's two weddings, two engagements and one kid on the way. All in the last year. Somewhere in between I finished college and moved back home.

On a hopefully unrelated note--why has everyone been asking me whether I'm seeing someone right now? I swear I've been asked that at least 10 times since I came home.

A couple days ago, I was talking to John during a tennis break and I'd like to say he was telling me (but really it was more like rebuking me) about what sacrifice really means. And when you're talking to a guy who's about to sacrifice the rest of his life in getting married, it's probably a good idea to listen. So I listened.

I think for the past 6 years or so I've been content telling myself that my penchant for irresponsibility was conveniently limited to relationships, dating and things of that sort. But I've quickly begun to realize that it's bled through to my entire life. Pretty sobering.

I've noticed that whenever I hear about my friends going through these events, I always say the same thing. As much as I prize eloquence, I'm ashamed to say that my first words have always been some combination of "man" or "dude". Pretty retarded I know. But what should be taken as "Man, I'm really happy for you" has always been "Man, your life is over". How is it that I'm just learning now that that's unhealthy?

Here's to urgency and responsibility. And I pray, a healthier take on marriage.

L'avventura

It's amazing how films stay with you for so long. It's even more amazing when you come to understand them in relation to your own life. Antonioni really was a genius. L'avventura might be the greatest movie I've ever watched.


La Notte, the greatest ending I've ever seen


And Monica Vitti the most beautiful woman I've ever seen

It's not personal, it's just business

One of the greatest joys of life is to see someone begin to love something as much as you do. A week ago, Isaac came into my room and shuffled through the books on my table. He then asked me if I had any books that he could read. Glancing over, I had my pick of The Supremacy of Christ in a Postmodern World, The Idiot by Dostoevsky, What Color Is Your Parachute (A job-hunting guide), Above All Earthly Powers by David F. Wells, and The Godfather, so naturally I handed him the Godfather. He then headed over to his room to start the book. A few days later, Isaac woke up from sleeping and without doing anything else, grabbed the book, headed over to my bed and started reading. A few days after that, James told me in conversation that he and Isaac were waiting at a bus stop the day before and with the few minutes they had, Isaac took out the book and began reading. What a kid. We even rented the Godfather and he started referring to himself as the Don. "I'm the Don fool".

There's a great line from from High Fidelity that says "it's not what you're like, it's what you like". How could that be any further from the truth. I remember watching You've Got Mail (fyi- I was forced to; ex-girlfriend's high school obsession), and remembering Tom Hanks's character stress the importance of The Godfather in modern life. It's like a male rite of passage. I don't want to sound like an elitist film buff with a stick up my ass, but I have a hard time respecting any guy that hasn't seen the Godfather. Two reasons why:

1. It's just an incredible film (I could go on and on about the subtleties). While I haven't seen many, there are more than a few incredible films in my mind. But very few that fulfill both criteria. Casablanca is an incredible film, but realistically, all it taught me was: 1. Ingrid Bergman 2. "Here's looking at you kid" 3. "Penny for your thoughts".

2. It teaches you life (notice, I didn't say "about life", just "life" which is far more meaningful)

They say there are two types of gorillas in the wild. You're either an Alpha or a Beta. Same goes for humans. Alpha or Beta. Everyone's criteria may be different, but you can't be an Alpha in my book unless you can understand me when I tell you "I'll make him an offer he can't refuse", and that's a simple one.

Who the hell doesn't like The Godfather?

Who loves the suburbs

On our recent trip to Davis, I remember Rich saying something along the lines of "if I had gone to UC Davis, I would have a 4.0". Now to put this into context, he wasn't dissing Davis as an academic institution, more as a place in general (Rich does not like Davis).

Needless to say, we agreed it was a pretty boring place. And to go back to what Rich said, what he was getting at is how little there was to do. Now having lived in Diamond Bar for the better part of this month, I can honestly say the same about DB.

For the past 4 weeks, I've lived in quiet desperation in a room where the lights don't even turn on (really, they just don't turn on). And by desperation, I don't mean the kind that keeps you worrying about what you'll do about that last final or paper. This is a different kind of desperation altogether. This is the kind of desperation that has you wondering when you'll see another human being again.

If you don't buy it, let me tell you what I resorted to once reading, writing, internet surfing, and TV exhausted themselves. For the past 5 or 6 years, I've kept a small-sized notebook in which I would write every single word that I didn't know the definition of. Whenever I'd hit a word I didn't know, I'd write the word and however many definitions it had in this notebook. Sometimes I'd just want to know the OED definition of a word I already knew just to have it. It was exhausting and time-consuming, but I did it nonetheless. I just needed to.

So you're probably wondering why I'm telling you this. Well, going back to how boring DB is, I've resorted to copying this notebook into an excel spreadsheet. Word by word. Definition by definition. This is my desperation.

On another note, Steatopygia is by far the funniest word I've come across so far. What could I possibly have been reading?

If

By Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!

Putting the Recess into Recession

You know, there are a lot of reasons to be spiteful in times like these. Having just been birthed out of the college bubble that I inhabited at Berkeley, I've begun to realize that my seemingly endless line of credit and extended bouts of doing as I please won't be there for much longer. But hey, at least I have the summer.

I once told my roommate Ezra that whenever I was consciously entering a new phase of my life, I would let out a huge sigh, you know, like one of those douchey audible ones. I guess as of right now I'm letting out a long extended summer-long douchey audible sigh, one that encapsulates both the past four years and the rest of my life.

The big question for me has always been "what the hell are you going to do with your life". After four years, I'd like to think that I've come full circle back to my freshman pipe dream. But upon closer introspection, I realize that's just my hindsight bias kicking in. It's time to commit (let out intentional douchey audible sigh).

"Relationships are meant to end"

This is what a close friend (who shall remain nameless) once told me after I had just broken up with my girlfriend. And while they may not be the most comforting words of wisdom. I understood what he was getting at. For everyone, there are relationships that you're glad you maintained and cherished and there are those that you regret you hadn't (there are other types, but for the sake of brevity and keeping this post a positive one, I won't expound).

Sadly, I've been realizing that many of the relationships that I hoped would continue simply aren't. But I guess that's just a natural part of life. Just before leaving Berkeley for probably the second to last time, I stood staring at my empty apartment and began to think about all the memories. I guess there are some things that you can never keep with you no matter how hard you try. Relationships are much like memories in that regard. But one thing you can keep with you is how you felt. For me at least, a lot of the time memories are just feelings. Certain feelings come to mind when I think back upon relationships that no longer exist. It's unfortunate, but that's life I guess. To all, here's to the rest of our lives and thanks for the memories.

Writing Music

Lately I've been on a song-writing binge. Malcolm Gladwell says there's a 10,000 hour rule for anyone that wants to become an expert at something. I guess you can say I'm on hours 10 or 11 of my journey to be a good songwriter. Regardless it's been helping me get through my days.

My theory is if I can just crap out all the, for lack of better word, crap right now, hopefully I can write something worth listening to later on. I think my adolescence was and is dominated by the idea that I could get off without practice or hard work and just succeed off my own God-given talent. Unfortunately, personal experience has forced me to drop this theory.

So since Malcolm Gladwell tells me that everyone needs to be a work-horse in order to be good at something, I guess I have a lot of work to do. A lot of work.

I've always been my toughest critic, especially when it comes to music; so I guess it'll take a lot more than just a few more songs.

Here's to someday posting something that I won't inevitably hate. Growing pains are the worst of necessary evils.