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.

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