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.

Ficb Welcome Night Video

Thanks to the team who helped make it. You guys are the best.

USA Basketball

I'm not going to go into details. You all know what happened. All I'll say is whenever my mom says something like, "Kobe Bryant deh geh jahl hahn dah" (translation: Kobe's a mighty fine player), you know the guy transcends the game. Kobe transcends the game to the point where even a non like my mom knows just how damn good he really is. Kobe transcends the game to the point where I've resorted to using pathetic sentences like the previous. He's that damn good.

As far as the Olympics go, other than Phelps, Basketball, baseball and a few other incredibly defining moments that'll all go down, they were a disaster. More on this later, but for now I'll say the IOC needs to grow a backbone and Jacque Rogge needs to grow a pair.

Apologies in advance for the sophomoric language and vulgarity, but I've got jury duty this week and I'm running on 2 hours sleep.

Bravo Again Nike

Nike Courage - The most popular videos are here

Ending with Oscar Pistorius was pure genius.

Happiness

In the midst of my toils writing my final papers, I thought I'd waste more time than I already have and update.

To me, happiness is...

...being unable to watch Nadal and Federer in the French Open final, only to find that it really wasn't worth watching.

...then watching Nadal beat Federer at Wimbledon and realizing it most definitely was worth watching.

...Yankee stadium with the siblings.

...New York with loved ones.

...being in awe for whatever reason.

...my sister one-upping me at Harvard (also see: screaming at the top of my lungs as my sister walked up the podium only to find that she was the one person who didn't hear me)

...the best pizza I've ever eaten.

...Cal Football diehards (Rich belongs in this).


...GFC family growing up together.

...these punks.

...this punk.









...true friends (we actually hate each other, or so they say)

...George Clooney.

...ruining pictures (see right)



and, of course, being a punk while I still can.

20/20

People are always saying that hindsight is 20/20, but I disagree. I'd say most of the time, hindsight is clearer than 20/20. I mean how many times have you ever looked back on your life and said something along the lines of "Why didn't you just..." or "What the hell was that?". People love to rationalize and beg the question, but in reality, I think we just have a hard time realizing that we can't foresee the future. It really is that simple.

I guess this entry then is somewhat of a supplement to the last. What I regretted to mention about that quote is that Miles Davis wasn't in the middle of making some broad existential statement about life or the human condition, he was talking about music. And how appropriate that Miles Davis would say something so incredibly profound without ever realizing it.

God knows that I've improvised. And God sure as hell knows that I've made mistakes. And they've never been aberrations or anomalies. They've been, and always are, consistent and uniform in every sense the word.

Sometimes I like to trick myself into the delusion that I'm really trying my hardest to live according to Him. But this is inevitably followed by the violent realization that I'm a sinner. And by definition those two thoughts outline the most frustrating oxymoron that we as Christians are forced to live with. It's not a paradox no matter how much we try to twist it. It's nonsensical. That's the gospel. That's God. He defies logic.

I'm always reminded of Sisyphus when I dwell on the gospel. Sisyphus was limited to say the least. Condemned is a better word. He had every right to be frustrated/angry/suicidal even. Yet he was happy. He was content to repeat the same chore without end in sight. Fixity at it's finest.

We should be so lucky.

Miles and Miles to Go

"The brilliance comes in your mistakes- that's how you discover new things. And the only way to make mistakes is to stretch and take chances. If you play it safe, you'll never progress"
-Miles Davis to T.M. Stevens

This past year I read a 10 pound biography of Miles Davis after having opened the book at Moe's and coming to that quote. A few lines was all it took. Maybe I'm just a sucker for biographies and so one on Miles Davis proved irresistible to me. But sadly, I never came upon another quote that spoke to me quite like that one.

If those words tell me anything, they remind me how much of my life has been on the fly. Nothing speaks louder to me than my mistakes, of which are many. But what's so amazing about God is that regardless of my failures, I've always been taken care of and I've always learned from my failures. I'm a human testament to improvisation. And I think I've begun to realize that I always will be.

Grace is an amazing thing because whether you think you understand it or not, enlightenment simply makes you realize how far you are from seeing the light. It's a cyclical masochism if you will. I've learned so much this past year, only to find myself further and further from what I believe the truth should feel like. But things like this are never tangible are they? No, that'd be too easy.

But God is always good and will always be good. I haven't had a single reason to doubt my entire life. Why start now?

The Real Deal

(DISCLAIMER: THIS ENTRY'S A LITTLE POLITICAL)

Someone once told me that Barack Obama would be the next Martin Luther King Jr. if elected. I remained skeptical because for the most part, all Obama's been to me is a talker, a potential con man, and a great politician, possibly the best ever, which turned me off from the start. But don't get me wrong, I like the guy. I like him a lot. And I'll continue to until he cracks, which I'm afraid to say, seems inevitable.

I think the reason so many people hate on Obama is that he's too legitimate. People criticize his rhetoric (it's too vague). They talk about his youth (it's too tainted). And as ridiculous as this sounds, they question his loyalties. Anything to drag this guy's reputation. All of which goes absolutely nowhere, because all it takes is one word from this guy to change your mind. In fact, he'll more than change your mind, he'll have you voting for him in a few months which to me is scary as hell. Who's Reverend Wright anyway?

All of this begs me to ask: How the hell is this guy still in this? And again, begs me to answer: because he can talk his way in and out of anything.

Now unless this guy is the greatest premeditator in the history of the world, there's no logical explanation for his being the clear-cut democratic nominee right now. But, funny thing, he is. How could someone named BARACK HUSSEIN OBAMA be America's next president? How could a guy who's openly admitted to smoking marijuana and sniffing coke, be America's next great "hope". Hope in quotations of course. All of that plus Reverend Wright (the black religious card) equals political suicide. He even calls it blow, just like the rest of us. Politicians shouldn't know that word, much less know what it is.

If anything, Obama's played the transparency card way too well. You could say he's blended just the right amount of honesty and political pretense to thrive. I bring up MLK because for the most part, it's clear to me that he was as close to 100% pretense and 0% honesty as you could get. It doesn't take any more than a few pages out of his autobiography to label it the most self-aggrandizing brick shithouse of an autobiography that you've ever read. Please excuse my language. You become numb to his rhetoric, his structure, his "hope". His deepest and darkest struggles are reduced to simply, "trying times". Trying times? Are you kidding me? Now I'm aware that part of that hate stems from my ultra-masochistic drama drive, but give me a break. Here's a guy who had affair after affair, most likely cheated his way through school and did God knows what else his entire life without even stopping to chuck his M.Div out the window of a moving car. There's no valor in that, much less honesty. But the most important thing never was his honesty, it was what he accomplished and in that regard, he warrants the aggrandizement. Because of that we still respect him. Maybe even more so than before the proverbial shit hit the fan.

Like the cliche reads: actions do speak louder than words, and if Obama can be half the action that he's bitten off with the same brand of seemingly "redacted" honesty, then I'm a fan. Until then, I'm just "half" waiting for the next Eliot Spitzer.