Forwarded from The Philosophress...

Somewhere in Santa Monica

Such a lovely place...

Converse

I would be remiss if I didn't post this century retrospective on the ol' Chuck Taylors

http://www.boston.com/business/gallery/converse100/

Hooray for NC

So after returning to California and battling a weeklong case of Timidity, I've had a string of welcome blessings: I've rediscovered an old (but still relevant) book. I had a surprise phone conversation with the Sabellian. And I'm getting a surprise visit this week from someone who's like a brother...and I don't mean like an actual brother, I mean it in the way that black people use it. Which is more meaningful, I think.

Anyway, I began reading the book Wild at Heart for the third time this afternoon (first time was in college, second time was after the ice-cream debacle), and was astounded that it continues to have increasing relevancy. Since the last time I picked it up, The Philosophress and I went hiking in the North Carolina mountains, and the exploration/wilderness metaphors resonate with me so much more now that I have actual life experience to draw upon.

I wrote the following last October after returning from hiking, but never felt it was "complete" or thorough enough to post. However, reading this book again I think will help me to color in some of the spots I've missed. I still can't do the weekend justice, as I think that I'll have to more Adventurous Living in order to do a better job of describing, but at my core I really felt that weekend and experiences were a momentous turning point in my self-discovery.


~~~



What a money weekend. Good times with The Philosophress, and a fantastic time hiking. Gorgeous fall weather too. It's a pretty crazy reminder of just how I need to keep searching and pursuing new things and being in a good place mentally and emotionally, because I'm finding new things to be pretty incredible.

For starters, it was great to be able to travel in comfortable clothes and guitar in hand, rather than an interview suit and the responsibilities of acting professional and put-together. I'm still new at this whole "adventurous" thing, so the great outdoors is still a bit of a pleasant surprise to me. Growing up, it was all about comfort and convenience, so my first true outdoor experience was the Breckenridge ski trip (astute readers will recall that I pretty much sat that one out, as I really had no idea what I was doing). I made a second attempt during Cheap Smokes, and was a bit more engaged, but still wasn't feeling like a "trail veteran" but I think this weekend solidified my view of cabin life and hiking in general -- now that I've become comfortable and accustomed to this outdoor stuff, I think I like it!

Reentry back into the SoCal lifestyle was difficult, as I realize that my adventurous, freewheeling, and creative self that I cultivated in college really doesn't have a place in the hard-driving, nouveau riche, surface atmosphere out here. Folks out here just don't want to hear about how great it is to climb boulders and take pictures of trees (no matter how stunning) because they might scratch their freshly-manicured nails (this goes for both males and females...kidding, sort of).

"Less Words, More Pictures"

Such was the recent critique of a loyal blog reader. "All these words...so dull!"

Said by an English teacher, ironically. If we English majors can't encourage one another to write, what of the rest of the world?


Very well -- if it's a picture the people want, then I will give the people a picture. Unfortunately, I was stuck in the office today, but this is the view of what Newport Beach looked like today.




If it stays in the 70s, I might just rent a sailboat of my own and get some extra cash advertising private whale-watching tours off the coast. Which would you prefer: A privately (although amateurly) manned wind-powered sailboat, or an overcrowded fishing trawler spewing gas and all sorts of noise into the ocean? Our pleasant encounters with dolphins and sea lions in summers past speak for themselves.

~~~

Now that all you living in arctic climes have had your obligatory photo slide show, I will resume my text-based commentary on my life.*


*(this entire post should be read with tongue firmly planted in cheek)

Current Events, In Pictures

I found this link on the blog intentionally. and thought it tremendously poignant. Tell me what you think.

About Last Night...

We had a pretty crazy fire rolling around the house yesterday. I was speaking with the Sabellian on the phone and snapping pictures. Fortunately there was no wind and it's been more humid than usual.




Here you can clearly see how the fire charged down the hillside and did its blackening work. Fortunately, it still had to cross a 4-lane toll road and another 4-lane street before it got to our subdivision.



So I celebrated the firefighters' good efforts by BBQing on the grill. And how does a man eat his burger when he has no burger buns and no utensils? That's right, he uses the BBQ tongs as silverware! (insert Tim the Toolman Taylor laugh here)

Cleaning out the proverbial attic...

Since I know everyone wants to see pictures of our washer & dryer, I thought I'd throw some stuff on there and post it here. My mother, bless her heart, saved a bit too many mementos of my childhood, and now I have the good fortune of going through it all. To be perfectly fair, she had nothing tangible saved from her childhood (as her childhood is a mysterious topic of conversation for another time), so methinks she saved enough for her and for me this time around. As The Philosophress pointed out, "You wouldn't even display this stuff at your funeral," but I figure a digital photo and blog immortality is a pretty good gig and a more appropriate use of space.



Here is a nifty trophy for my 3rd and 4th grade years with AWANA, basically like Boy Scouts, only for church kids (think Bible verses instead of whittling wood for merit badges).


Once 5th and 6th grade is completed, the four year trophy is quite large and impressive. But I still have most of the Bible verses memorized, so I don't think I need a trophy reminder any longer.


When my birthday rolls around, there's no telling what The Philosophress will find in the Party Supply aisle...

Big Wheels Keep On Turning

Finally, finally.

The Philosophress is winding her way East, and the past week has been an exhausting whirlwind for both of us. Ironically, we had a fantastic time with friends last night -- packing up stuff in moving cubes -- the first time we've been able to host a group at our place.

The sight and sound of an empty house brought back some very uncomfortable memories; namely the crappy job, feeling overwhelmed, inadequate, and isolation setting in. I had to remind myself that my emotions were revolting from the realization that California was not as advertised and there was no foreseeable way out.

California: Still room for millions of immigrants; also home of crazy bosses.

It's just so relieving to have The Philosophress physically moving towards what we've been hoping and planning for about a year now. Of course, she has the cats, but hopefully they'll play nicely with their traveling companion, Mr. Valium. I figured I can choose to look at this time of life like my family (change is sad/difficult/to be avoided) or more like my Europe trip (I already know I'm getting in over my head, so I might as well have a blast!) I'm tired of taking life so seriously that I resort to inaction, and goodness knows the geographical surroundings have dictated self-preservation mode. I'm just trying to shift my attitude to fit the more relaxed and adventurous environment that lies ahead.

In other news, The Philosophress is making camp in Needles, CA tonight, on the banks of the Colorado River. Tomorrow she hopes to teach the cats how to escape from quicksand, Bear Grylls-style.

Requiem for an Old Friend

Well, with moving and all, there are some things that can't make the journey. Unfortunately, one of those things is Ye Olde Guitar Case, my faithful companion since the 5th grade. A quick recollection says this has been to countless church camps (Yosemite, Big Bear, Catalina Island) in my youth, along with crazy plane trips to/from the Midwest. It also got banged up and down stairs at the ol' Morrissey Manor, with no elevator and whatnot. A couple months before graduation the handle broke off, so I had to do the ol' "sack of flour" carry to/from ISI. The parents splurged and got me a cool high-tech plastic case for Christmas that will protect the six-stringer much better now, but I didn't want to part with the old case. But thanks to blogging, I feel I can give the appropriate eugugoly.


I think Ten Foot Pole was some band that played at my church in high school (no, I've never heard of them again either). But no one can argue that Ghoti Hook makes Elvis sweat.



Then there's the Five Iron Frenzy sticker that refines the Colorado state flag, and a sticker from a tattoo parlor in Long Beach (where I got all my phat body art)


Yeah, the Olympic sticker was cool, but no one disagrees with God's football preferences.


Hangnail (bringing glam rock riffs back), my boys at Pax, a Ghoti Hook Japanese style sticker, and POD (from SD)


The closest I ever got to listening to emo was Monday's Hero, who opened for Hangnail somewhere up in Michigan (one of the many shows Zachariah and I hit desperately trying to keep the punk rawk alive at ND). More Pax, and also my token sticker from the "Ska Against Racism" festival tour in HS.


And of course, a retro sticker (there had to be at least one). Call this the "Rumpersticker" and place it appropriately to show how you're behind the Irish too. That reminds me...everyone got all up in arms at the Bookstore a few years back about how they were selling those short booty/cheerleader shorts with "Irish" across the back. Looks like the Bookstore has been making it easy for guys to ogle for longer than anyone realized...

A Good Mike Is Hard To Find

Goodness knows it's been hard to make much sense of anything in life that was dated 2005 and 2006. I guess I count progress by the number of things that "fall into place" so to speak. Few people have been around to see the really bad times (your medals will be mailed to you shortly), and even though I don't feel qualified to take on the role of sensei, I guess now's as good a time as any.

It's very bizarre, but I'm a complicated (some would say "goofy") person, and I sort of have my own way about things. The tough part is it's hard to take cues from others, since some things other folks do backfire when I try them, and explaining these phenomena usually elicits a cocked-head and glassy eyes.

Then there are those who step into my life numerous times and say, "you know I've been dealing with this issue" and I get the feeling someone's transcribed my mental and relational experiences and read them aloud.

I have wished to forget many circumstances, and hope that many of my words will be forgotten as well. But I guess the next best thing is to come alongside fellow travelers and provide a roadmap detailing the path I've found myself on. It's tough looking back and recalling the pitfalls, valleys, and despair -- but also rewarding to say, "This road is the lesser-traveled and is not advisable for everyone. But since you're here, it will help to avoid this trap, and please use caution and teamwork to master this rough patch."

Brighter days do lie ahead, and I continually keep this in my mind. It's nice, in the midst of difficulties, to have moments where the clouds part and revelations abound. I guess I'll just try and keep that in mind in case there's rain and washed-out roads ahead.

"Of course I've been this way before...nothing to it!"

Cranking Up the Engine...

So The Philosophress is checking out Durham for us this weekend and trying to make us some new friends -- the few folks we've gotten to know have left the state (or the continent), so we may as well consider greener (and less smoggy) pastures.

More good news: it's looking quite likely that a ND trip during the Blue-Gold weekend is in store for me. I'll be getting the final OK from the boss on Monday (hopefully the official word is "yes"), at which point I'll be calling in several favors for lodging, transportation, Flex Points, and good games...wait, scratch that last part. It's a pilgrimage of sorts for me, in a very real sense. I just hope the boss doesn't throw cold water on my parade come Monday (I must be sleepy because my metaphors are all mixed up).

From the Random Department

I found this link which talks about interesting things one can do with a digital camera. It looks like it's a full blog, and if I see enough helpful stuff on there I may set up a feed on the left. As you can see, exactly zero of the suggested tips have been incorporated in the photo below.

Who needs a catapult when you have a Toodus?

Poker. Sweet.

So last night I got invited to a Dudes Poker Night, the first I’ve attended since my bachelor party (aka the Night of Hot Pink Revelry). Turns out all the World Series of Poker I watched while I was unemployable reaps some rewards. Of the 15 or so guys who showed up, I placed third and won back 50% of my whopping $5 buy-in.

Even better than that, it was some good company in large doses, something I’ve been lacking for quite a while (although I supplemented my week with good phone conversations with the Sabellian and T-Ruggalicious). But it really was a relief to chill with guys who were knowledgeable about good musicians and songwriters (Otis Redding, Billie Holliday, Norah Jones, Josh Groban) but could transition to discussing the merits of drinking Fuzzy Navels with other dudes.


A couple more updates. First bit of good news: the insurance company saw fit to reimburse us for the wedding ring, and for the first time in some time I thought, “Wow, that didn’t end even worse than I expected!” The Philosophress was OK with my version of the story, and we return to the sea-ne of the crime (just sound it out) in a few hours...good thing it’s cooled down in the past week (not really). I may have to stage another capsize, but suffice to say The Philosophress’ rings are not going sailing with us. Of course that doesn’t prohibit the cats from finding them and running off with them while we’re gone (our little girl kitty was a pack rat in a former life...my aunt says she’s just padding her nest. Apparently the “fixing” surgery doesn’t remove instinct.)

And The Philosophress made it through her trip without much emotional distress (aside from missing me...ha!) However, the mosquitoes decided to enjoy her visit to the fullest extent. Apparently the locals have dubbed the mosquito the State Bird. I’ll stop now and you can check for more details later.

Cave Time

So here’s a funny anecdote that occurred earlier in the week. I was having a conversation about how difficult it is to find some “alone time” to reset mentally and process life.

Now most men are more solitary, especially since yours truly is an introvert. But the term we came up with to describe this phenomenon is “Cave Time” which I found absolutely hilarious.

First and foremost, I think that sort of hearkens back to the cave times...it just conjures up an image of some Caveman being disgruntled and confused because his wife or family are asking him be social and jovial without allowing him to just chill in the back of the cave by himself, processing deep stuff, like “What will life be like without the dinosaurs?” or “I wonder if the evening SportsCenter will have the highlights from the Yankees/Red-Loincloths game?” or whatever deep thoughts cavemen thought in those days.

Additionally, my sleeping habits resemble a hibernating bear, so of course Cave Time is necessary. And since I’m married to a Philosophress, my mind immediately flashed to Plato’s Allegory of the Cave. Of course, Cave Time seems necessary (at least for this caveman) for enlightenment, to see life through discerning eyes.

Here’s an example of some ND-sponsored Cave Time.

Happy Boxing Day

No, December 26 didn't come early this year. I just have a boxing theme going on today. Yes, you heard that right.

First of all, The Philosophress got me a George Foreman Grill in honor of my joining the Quarter-Century Club. We used it for the first time today, and it is freaking awesome (for those who don’t know, “freaking awesome” is better than “unbelievably awesome” but not quite as good as “oh snap!”).

I know this is not new to the world at large, but keep in mind I’ve always had the mindset something along the lines of “Taco Bell is cheap and quick” and “In-N-Out is pretty darn healthy!” However, with the whole gluten-free thing going here (still in conference with the doctor to get the details nailed down, but my days as a Cookie Monster are definitely numbered), I’m having to find ways to actually cook quickly and healthily.

Enter good ol’ George. The Next Grilleration (I know, brilliant marketing) has removable plates for easy cleaning. Although you simply must check out the version that The Philosophress overlooked: The George Foreman USB iGrill. High Comedy.

So The Philosophress finds such a sweet gift so’s I don’t get discouraged whilst cooking, and tonight’s chicken definitely tasted good at a fraction of the time. I managed to dirty just a handful of dishes, instead of the entire kitchen (as is my usual custom). Good times all around.

And why else is this Boxing Day, you ask? Well, because my (totally heterosexual) man-crush on Brady Quinn’s biceps (so 2004!) has given way to anticipating Tom Zbikowski fighting his first pro bout at Madison Square Garden on Saturday. Can you watch a pay-per-view boxing match in a bar? Because The Philosophress and I are woefully lacking in the cable TV department. But his opponent plans to wear an Ohio State jersey into the ring. He should just skip the festivities and start whimpering in the corner, because that’s where he’s going to be after the opening bell.

One Last Vegas Story...

Well, maybe two.

We didn't spend a ton of time in Vegas...not even enough time to do any real gambling. But I did take The Philosophress "downtown" (read: Rat Pack 1950s Vegas, casinos, and accompanying urban blight) to show her the old school Binion's Horseshoe casino, the cowboy-on-the-casino (his name is Vegas Vic), and the free bands playing outdoors (temperature at midnight: 95 degrees).

The one thing that ESPN doesn't broadcast to the viewer during the World Poker Tour is the smell of cigarette smoke. Yeesh. However, we did stumble upon the world famous hot dogs at the Lanai Express concession stand. Hot dogs were good, but I think they need to rename the place "Restroom Express." I think there was something more than beef between those buns.

And now, for the Food Recommendation part of the program.

The Philosophress and I went to the Bellagio the next day to see the sights. Long story short, we ended up eating
outside in the middle of the afternoon...

and the experience couldn't have been better.

We end up at this restaurant called Olives, and there's a 90-minute wait for a table inside, "unless we want a table outside now," says the hostess. When I find out it's shaded, I figure our other options was heading back to the ol' Lanai Express.

So we are seated at a shady table for two overlooking the Bellagio's 1/4 mile long fountain, and while the outside temperature is in the triple digits, the shade is probably in the mid-70s. We just ask to keep the waters coming, and enjoy a faaaantastic meal. Complemented, of course, by a fountain show every 30 minutes.

Not enough comic relief in your life?

Then feast your eyes on some humorous photos provided by a recent visit by none other than one Michael Rampolla and company...

Our first stop on this photo journey exhibits two male specimens who have apparently overloaded their bodies with the delights of In-N-Out burger, to the dismay of the wildlife who will soon be smelling the unfortunate results.

,

Of course, after viewing this next photo, you can imagine which one of the two labored more fruitfully. I believe this posture is similar to those taken in college dorm bathrooms everywhere when certain males have succeeded in clogging up the toilets and must be hailed as most smelly (which apparently is a good thing in the world of young males).

Typical Saturday Night?

Yes, this is what our lives have been reduced to...only read if you're reaaaally bored :)

Sooooo, you may know, we have two cats now--Morrissey (10 mos. old) and Isabella (almost 6 mos.). Tonight was our first experience bathing BOTH cats (because, you know, what else do normal 25 year olds do on saturday nights? lol).

We were going to bathe Mo first but as I'm climbing in, we turn around and realize he's eating something off the floor...and yes, as if he knew what was coming, he picked that exact moment to throw up for the first time since we've had him. Alrighty!

So, not wanting to make matters worse, we put him in the other bathroom to let his tummy settle and tackled Isabella first. So I climbed in and sat down on the edge of the tub, armed with a bucket of warm water, wash cloths, and a towel across my lap . And, will wonders never cease, she was perfectly behaved as I held her on my lap and wet her down, we lathered her up and alternated holding her while rinsing her off. No claws, no real effort to run away, she even was good about letting us towel dry her. With her the trick we realized was to baby talk her the whole time so she felt safe, hehe.

So we put her in another room to let her finish drying herself off, and bring Mo in. He fights us from the beginning, but when he realizes we're not going to let him run away, he turns around towards me and spends the rest of the bath time with his paws desperately clinging to my shoulders (or at one point, wrapped around my neck). The good thing is he doesn't use claws so he wasn't hurting me, but I guess he needed to nuzzle up against my face and cling as tightly to me as possible to be assured we weren't trying to punish him or something. Due to my incapacitation as a makeshift security blanket, Irish Elvis was voted the washer/rinser for the rest of the Mo bathing experience. And so they lived happily ever after...or at least until the next bathing experience :)