07.01.2005
SAFETY FIRST //
I was sitting on a park bench waiting for a friend at Towne Center; probably one of the most family friendly outdoor dining/shopping areas in Sugar Land. She walked up and said that she was just mugged at gun point. I thought that kind of thing only happened at 3am on dimly lit subway ramps. It was a shockingly unbelievable moment like when Kimberly on Melrose Place peeled off her wig revealing her Frankenstein scar. Amazingly she was so calm and matter of fact that I wasn't sure if she was joking. That whole thing got me thinking about how obsessed we as Americans are about security. Whether it's living in gated communities or not making eye contact with minorities, we think we exercise control over our lives. But that control is just an illusion and at best we can change the odds but not the outcome. My friend's incident proved that at any moment we can become those "other people" that bad things happen to; whether in a darkened downtown alley or a heavily populated suburban parking lot. So my lonely weekends watching Star Trek re-runs; that's out of my control too. It's not my fault, it's not my fault.



07.05.2005
HOME AND BACK AGAIN //
Usually after you move out, home is best enjoyed in small weekend sips. There is that phenomenon of parents never realizing that their children are no longer 15 years old. I just finished half of my 12 week home tour, and when you haven't lived with your folks for years it feels like drinking from a fire hydrant. Suddenly after hearing the same stories, repetitive sports commentary, and superstitions for the umpteenth time I find myself easily annoyed. But for a while I've had the haunting realization of how seemingly quick my parent's death will come. When that happens I don't want to be grasping for memories and left with only fists full of regrets. Here's to drinking deeply and creating new stories that I can pass on, for the umpteenth time. Cheers.



07.09.2005
HAPPY TRAILS SANTONG //
Michelangelo was known for his masterpieces David and the Sistine Chapel. Mozart gave us his Requiem and the Marriage of Figaro. And Santong Snacks: #5 Chicken Rice No Flour and #20 Fried Dumplings Leek. "Alas! Santong, I knew you well; a hole in the wall of infinite flavor, of most excellent beef noodle soup; you hath quenched mine hunger a thousand times; and now, where be your #17 Dumpling Soup in Beef Broth? (Hamlet Act V Scene 1 adapted)." I was devastated to learn that my reason for eating recently retired and closed its doors forever. Like so many things I took it for granted and now it's gone. I never had a chance to tell it how I truly felt. Learn from my mistake. There is nothing left for me here.

07.14.2005
GREENER PASTURES //
I watched the home run derby the other night. Before the festivities a local band was performing and Johnny Damon and Mike Piazza got on stage to join them. In addition to some sweet head bobbing they also air drummed and air guitarred. Damon actually tried to share the mic with the lead since the techs frantically turned his off. It was one off those unintentional comedy/ high cringe moments where you had to avert your eyes in embarrassment on their behalves. Ball players want to be rock stars, rock stars want to be actors, actors want to be directors, and I just want to be 6 feet tall. Heck I'd jump at 5'6. Why are people so restless? Maybe it's because of a secret disatisfaction in settling for what's safe. For me I think I don't want to believe that I'm limited. Typically I'm Mr. By The Numbers, but I'm starting to see people who chase their dreams not so much naïve but gutsy. Once upon a time I chased a dream. But she called the cops on me. Que sera.



07.17.2005
GREEK TRAGEDY //
For 4 years in college I would walk by sorority mansions and mistfully say to myself, “someday.” They were modest dreams, but dreams that could keep a man alive. The other day that dream began to come to fruition in the form of an email. For the Crusade conference at Colorado State University I was assigned to live in the Kappa Delta house. But like in the Crying Game, horrifically not all was as it seemed. I was finally given the keys to the Secret Garden and I found it, wanting. It was less the pristine temple for co-ed hotties and more the utilitarian den for the local rotary club. How do Greek goddesses thrive without a/c on plastic mattresses? After a decade of traveling to the Emerald City, I was crushed by the stark reality that the Wizard was all just smoke and mirrors. I wish I never took the red pill.



07.20.2005
THE FLIP SIDE OF BACHELORHOOD //
For some reason when my friends get married or enter into a serious relationship, they urge me to join the club. But are they wanting me to share in the bliss or misery? Being “single” is liberating. You never know just how quite free you are until you hear how free your friends aren’t. I can play video games til the break of dawn, enjoy a padded wallet, and talk about feelings as little as I want to. And I never have to go antiquing, ever. As good as it gets? Most of the time. Then there are weeks like these: trapped at a conference drowning in a sea of people. Meals are the hardest. I was one of the few rescued from dropping $50/day for cafeteria food, but I’ve found it to be double edged. More often than not I’d rather starve than walk 30 minutes for a table for one. I don’t mind being alone, but I feel lonely when alone surrounded by people; whether it be in a crowded restaurant or 5000 person auditorium. I guess my alternatives are to put a ninja death grip on the few I do know, or cling to the fringes of acquaintance life boats tethered only by the slow death that is small talk. I find both distasteful. So as I scrawl tallies on the wall numbering the days it’s still, “no I’m not waiting for anyone, the bar is just fine.”



07.23.2005
VIVE LA LANCE //
Excerpt from the Austin American Statesman by John Kelso
For France's sake, Lance, don't retire!
Sure, it's getting a little monotonous hearing about Armstrong day after day, kicking the rest of the world's bicycle tires in the Tour de France. I mean, how many times do we have to see the man on TV, standing on that podium with those two chicks? Still, Lance is making a big mistake by retiring. It's fun to annoy the French by beating them at their own game. Perhaps only Christophe Moreau's closest relatives would know that he was the tour's leading Frenchman, in 12th place. The trouble for the French is that nobody is beating Lance. The Tour is their Super Bowl, and their best guy is so far behind that he has to use binoculars to find Armstrong's butt. So when he quits, this will be the best thing to happen to France since the Germans left Paris. When Lance packs it in, it will be cause for a French national holiday. Let's not hand them that luxury quite so soon. Lance should just keep stomping the truffles out of them.



07.26.2005
IT'S YOU NOT ME //
Crusade put on a singles seminar hosted by a well known Christian psychologist. The buzz has been incredible b/c girls have been saying his book asserts that it's their fault they are dateless. They are chomping at the bit about this. When you get them going it looks like they are chewing rocks. BTW, this is just the 2nd out of 900 possible events I've attended at this 2 week conference. So basically it's costing me $400.
9:15 - I take a seat in the back so no one can hear me snickering. I'm expecting the unintentional comedy scale to be on par with Glitter.
9:17 - Like a beaming mother, Kari Kennedy just came up and told me that she is so proud that I am here. My self-esteem is in free fall.
9:25 - There's a huge line for snacks and it's all girls. Ladies, those cookies aren't love.
9:31 - Challenges girls if they have any responsibility; like at least leaving the house. That one hits close to home. It's the first time I've left my room since Jacko was acquitted.
9:36 - Says that girls' lack of initiative makes it hard for God to hook them up. Uncomfortable female murmuring ensues. Highlight of the evening.
9:39 - Suggests that girls log every boy they meet. The short list should get them depressed enough to take action. I count about 300 women here stuffing themselves with pecan sandies at a seminar on how to get a date. I'm pretty sure they are already depressed.
9:46 - Tells a success story of a dateless girl dating even though with a loser. But says you have to start at the bottom of the food chain. I guess he just named me phytoplankton.
9:47 - I just lost my internet connection. Now I'm depressed.
9:55 - Recounts a girl having a panic attack with a guy. All she could think about is her butt. All this talk about butts is having the contagious yawning effect. I have to fart bad.
9:56 - I ease one out and hope no one notices.
10:05 - During Q&A he counters that girls can pursue guys like Ruth did. All of the emasculated guys are high fiving. I awkwardly tried to chest bump the girl next to me.
10:09 - Says that girls dig power symbols. I make a mental note to bring up my bow staff skills and computer hacking skills during speed dating.
10:13 - This chick is giving a long exposition about guarding your heart. I think she's reading straight out of I Kissed Dating Goodbye.
10:16 - After another success story, a wave of awwws reverberates through the crowd for like the 50th time. I keep looking around for the flashing prompt.
10:18 - The first girl just got up and kissed this seminar goodbye.
10:22 - Some tool rambles through a question trying way too hard to be funny. He's dying up there. I keep waiting for Randy Jordan to appear and call him bro 100 times.
10:26 - Speed dating starts but they don't let me participate. I'm having PE flashbacks.

Overall I'm disappointed. There weren't many fireworks. The greatest tension was trying not to shart. I give the UCS a 3.5, only b/c Rocky put on a way too tight cut off over his t-shirt. It made him look like a 40 year old playing a weekend pick up game at the local rec center.



07.31.2005
TRAVEL BLUES //
It's great to be home again. There's nothing like a couple weeks of sweltering dorm rooms and lonely meals to make you appreciate the comfort of your own bed and home court advantage of a familiar toilet. The travel experience is always book ended by banishment in airport purgatory. Of course you have to arrive when the moon is still out for a 3pm flight. Thank God for the electronic kiosks, but that's negated by security. I ALWAYS get stopped. Going, they rooted through my tightie whities. Coming back I got padded down. After getting thoroughly frisked I awkwardly asked if I should get his phone number or something. When the plane landed the door was jammed. For about 20 minutes it was like being in a pool during a geriatric swim. The clock was ticking. No amount of security or onboard US marshals could stop the detonations of successive old people fart bombs that went off. I can't wait to do it all over again in 2 weeks.