So they say, "death is the great equalizer." I would submit that death is many things. It is the humiliator, the weapon of choice, and the rattifier.
Death does nothing beyond the obvious of remove a human from an earthly form, however those worlds that we suppress and reject take on lifelike proportions in the wake of a death (pun intended). The worlds of emotions and womanness meet with a confused state of anger at the natural order and we are basically spun, like clay on a spinning wheel, into something far from human - something, even, alien.
When I say this, I am getting at our lack of instinctive behavior, or perhaps our lack of pre-planned behaviors. Either way, we do not have the same tact and sensitivity in normal occurences.
Now, I've mentioned death being the great equalizer, which it is. Once, we all die, there are no A-Rod's, no Osama's; simply put, we are all dead. Once human, no longer - dead folks. There is no social heirarchy or anything of the sort. This is humbling. Now here is where the two worlds, living and the dead, collide.
Just as there is no arrogance in death, similarly there is no arrogance in another's death. At this point, we have come to grips with our own mortality that we are no longer so self serving and others-effacing. Point in case, funeral processions.
The whole reason I wrote this is that I want to demonstrate why it is that I love funeral processions. Funeral processions are a beautiful thing. No, not because it is the orchestration of one human passing through the realm, into an eternal existance. It is because the procession is a demonstration of reverence for others. The people all drive down the road one after the other, and they have flags to denote the "funeral procession" cars. Never once, have I seen a funeral procession car, pass another one. Never once, have I seen a person in a funeral procession upset at their positition in the order of the procession.
Also, all oncoming cars pull over in unison to pay homage to the deceased. They stay stopped until the procession is passed and then continue. It is as though for a split second, everyone in the world put aside their pride, put aside their desire to be honored, put aside their me-first attitude and forgot that they were in a hurry. They simply drove in solitude and virtue to pay their respects to a deceased friend. And in some roundabout way, the simple act of a funeral procession seems to do just that - pay respect to human life.
31 May 2006
28 May 2006
bonds
Barry Bonds hit home run number 715 today. He hit it off of Byung Hyung Kim which is extremely fitting, given Kim's history of giving up home runs. However, in lieu of the scandal which is leading every city in America (with the exception of San Francisco) raining loud boo's down on Bond's head, it is important that this be properly understood.
Barry Bond's could have used steroids...I'll submit, he did use steroids. However this has never been proven. This supposed use of steroids however, should not taint his staggering numbers. There are players who have tested positive to steroids, and yet still do not achieve the same success as Bonds. Jason Giambi is a perfect example. In his early career when he played for the Athletics, he was a great hitter. He tested positive for steroids, cried on camera, apologized, came back after a suspension and he is still a great hitter. He is not a better hitter now, then he was then. Assuming that he is off steroids now, there was never any great rise in production. His numbers even dipped during the early Yankee years when he tested positive for steroids. However great a hitter Giambi is, he has never even approached the dominance which Bond's carries.
Another player who tested positive for steroids is Rafael Palmeiro. Evidently, according to long time teammate Will Clark, this use had been going on for years. Palmeiro is a member of the 500 HR club, however he has also played for 19 seasons. In those 19 seasons Palmeiro hit 569 home runs. In those same 19 seasons, Barry Bonds hit 704. Perhaps, steroids had something to do with teh power explosion, however to dismiss a number such as 715 because of steroid allegations is ignorant and a disservice to one of the game's greatest players.
Barry Bond's could have used steroids...I'll submit, he did use steroids. However this has never been proven. This supposed use of steroids however, should not taint his staggering numbers. There are players who have tested positive to steroids, and yet still do not achieve the same success as Bonds. Jason Giambi is a perfect example. In his early career when he played for the Athletics, he was a great hitter. He tested positive for steroids, cried on camera, apologized, came back after a suspension and he is still a great hitter. He is not a better hitter now, then he was then. Assuming that he is off steroids now, there was never any great rise in production. His numbers even dipped during the early Yankee years when he tested positive for steroids. However great a hitter Giambi is, he has never even approached the dominance which Bond's carries.
Another player who tested positive for steroids is Rafael Palmeiro. Evidently, according to long time teammate Will Clark, this use had been going on for years. Palmeiro is a member of the 500 HR club, however he has also played for 19 seasons. In those 19 seasons Palmeiro hit 569 home runs. In those same 19 seasons, Barry Bonds hit 704. Perhaps, steroids had something to do with teh power explosion, however to dismiss a number such as 715 because of steroid allegations is ignorant and a disservice to one of the game's greatest players.
25 May 2006
the breakup..
I, by no means am a relationship expert. No one, in sound mind and body will ever refer to me as Dr. Phil; and similarly I will never write an editorial in the NY Times that runs by the emboldened "Sex and the City." I do not understand relationships (romantic and otherwise) and therefore I could never offer even the greatest relational oaf in the United States any advice. However...
I am beginning to understand the breakup. The breakup is this sort of inevitable pitfall that most relationships fall into. It's almost as if one is frollicking through a field of wildflowers, and then that frollicking becomes a walk, and then a slow walk, and then a limp. Meanwhile, the field of wildflowers becomes a perfectly tendered lawn of grass, and then an overgrown weed-infested expanse of foliage, and then finally barren, cracked desert. So, by the end of this relationship, which started with frollicking in the field of daisies has now become a limp through the cracked and barren desert.
Well there is one important point about breakups that everyone needs to know. It is very hard to break up with someone, however, it is infinitely harder to be broken up with. I've heard the line, "He's not supposed to get sick of me, I'm supposed to get sick of him." It is almost as though a breakup hurts in a more insultful, and self image shattering way, then in the intended remorse for things lost way. Well this creates not only the standard ache for togetherness, but also some prideful, and spiteful anger toward the breakupper, from the breakuppee.
In this modern day and age, with the social pressures and this arrogant attitude about the attainment of a guy/girl rather than the actual substantial relationships. I have seen a few cases where the breakuppee and breakupper agree that the end is near, and the interpersonal friendship relationship is preserved because neither is broken up with and therefore neither has huge pride shattereing anger problems to swallow. However, all too often as relationships grow and time and emotions are invested - things never break cleanly. This uneven break, this splintering of raw emotion and comfort create almost a insincere battleground of pride backlashing against painstaking remorse. The breakupper is, in most cases, sincerely remorseful for the turn of events and can (I would hope) feel empathy for the breakuppee. However the breakuppee, in most cases is sincerely hurt. This hurt does not manifest itself in sincere ways however, and therefore this sort of battle becomes an undermining parasite that causes both people to become less able to deal with the pains of breaking up and less able to honor the other person as a frend.
In lieu of my experiences it has become aware that there are a few key stages that occur. The first post breakup stage would have to be the "try to be friends stage." This can never work as there is no time for the feelings of romantic interest to dissipate in the least. There has to be some significant seperation before mature and rational steps can be taken forward.
The second stage is the "okay I need some space stage." During this time period the breakuppee realizes that there is still a great deal of emotional attachment and comes to the understanding that they must remove themselves from the breakupper. This stage is extremely hard for most breakuppees, because if they have a healthy respect for their ex, then they have a hard time understanding this, and would love nothing more for the two to just be friends. However, this being impossible there is usually a great deal of time here, which distances the two people to a point that is so far removed that recreating a friendship is somewhat impossible because there gets to be this feelings of infamiliarity coupled with a lack of understanding because of a past intimate relationship.
This stage of "reacquaintance" often times is the straw that breaks the camel's back as the two folks have grown individually for so long, that there are simply no bridges left on which to connect. This is a frustrating stage where the two people are emotionally and mature enough to have a friendship, however there are too many burned bridges from the impatience and irreverence of the breakup and following stages.
Sadly, this is, what I know to be the case and it makes sense that we are simply unable to act maturely when our pride has been damaged. We make quick bandages and wall of those parts that hurt, which completely remove ourselves from one another. Then, in an attempt to be civil, there is a forced friendship which carries no substance since there is no intimate interaction. This forced friendship results in a friendship which dissolves into nothing and then leads into years and years and years of nothing and eventually we just fade away, as if neither person ever really existed to the other.
I am beginning to understand the breakup. The breakup is this sort of inevitable pitfall that most relationships fall into. It's almost as if one is frollicking through a field of wildflowers, and then that frollicking becomes a walk, and then a slow walk, and then a limp. Meanwhile, the field of wildflowers becomes a perfectly tendered lawn of grass, and then an overgrown weed-infested expanse of foliage, and then finally barren, cracked desert. So, by the end of this relationship, which started with frollicking in the field of daisies has now become a limp through the cracked and barren desert.
Well there is one important point about breakups that everyone needs to know. It is very hard to break up with someone, however, it is infinitely harder to be broken up with. I've heard the line, "He's not supposed to get sick of me, I'm supposed to get sick of him." It is almost as though a breakup hurts in a more insultful, and self image shattering way, then in the intended remorse for things lost way. Well this creates not only the standard ache for togetherness, but also some prideful, and spiteful anger toward the breakupper, from the breakuppee.
In this modern day and age, with the social pressures and this arrogant attitude about the attainment of a guy/girl rather than the actual substantial relationships. I have seen a few cases where the breakuppee and breakupper agree that the end is near, and the interpersonal friendship relationship is preserved because neither is broken up with and therefore neither has huge pride shattereing anger problems to swallow. However, all too often as relationships grow and time and emotions are invested - things never break cleanly. This uneven break, this splintering of raw emotion and comfort create almost a insincere battleground of pride backlashing against painstaking remorse. The breakupper is, in most cases, sincerely remorseful for the turn of events and can (I would hope) feel empathy for the breakuppee. However the breakuppee, in most cases is sincerely hurt. This hurt does not manifest itself in sincere ways however, and therefore this sort of battle becomes an undermining parasite that causes both people to become less able to deal with the pains of breaking up and less able to honor the other person as a frend.
In lieu of my experiences it has become aware that there are a few key stages that occur. The first post breakup stage would have to be the "try to be friends stage." This can never work as there is no time for the feelings of romantic interest to dissipate in the least. There has to be some significant seperation before mature and rational steps can be taken forward.
The second stage is the "okay I need some space stage." During this time period the breakuppee realizes that there is still a great deal of emotional attachment and comes to the understanding that they must remove themselves from the breakupper. This stage is extremely hard for most breakuppees, because if they have a healthy respect for their ex, then they have a hard time understanding this, and would love nothing more for the two to just be friends. However, this being impossible there is usually a great deal of time here, which distances the two people to a point that is so far removed that recreating a friendship is somewhat impossible because there gets to be this feelings of infamiliarity coupled with a lack of understanding because of a past intimate relationship.
This stage of "reacquaintance" often times is the straw that breaks the camel's back as the two folks have grown individually for so long, that there are simply no bridges left on which to connect. This is a frustrating stage where the two people are emotionally and mature enough to have a friendship, however there are too many burned bridges from the impatience and irreverence of the breakup and following stages.
Sadly, this is, what I know to be the case and it makes sense that we are simply unable to act maturely when our pride has been damaged. We make quick bandages and wall of those parts that hurt, which completely remove ourselves from one another. Then, in an attempt to be civil, there is a forced friendship which carries no substance since there is no intimate interaction. This forced friendship results in a friendship which dissolves into nothing and then leads into years and years and years of nothing and eventually we just fade away, as if neither person ever really existed to the other.
24 May 2006
An American Hero.
Barry Bonds? What, you thought I was going to talk about Danica Patrick? Sorry.
Barry Bonds is on the cusp and when I say on the cusp I mean: 19 games without a homer and one shy of taking Babe's place for second on the all time HR list. What does this mean? Well, pretty soon, Barry will hit a home run breaking the tie for second and clearly distinguishing himself as the second best home run hitter ever. But, is he?
The only point in conflict is Bonds' supposed use of steroids (or performance enhancing drugs). This is a big deal I suppose, and therefore recently ESPN published a poll on what the sports world thought of Bonds. The poll begged the question what should the ceremony be like when Bonds breaks Hank Aaron's all time HR record be (because everyone knows deep down, he will). The overwhelming majority decided that the befitting celebration would be affix a large cloth soaked in gasoline to Barry's body. The cloth would be lit and used in the ceremonial lighting of the next Olympic Torch. It is quite astonishing how violent a celebration it is, but as we've known for a long time, sports fans are ruthless. Therefore, since we are on the cusp of history and this is a big deal -- I suppose I shall spread some rays of light into the crotchal region of sports known as cheating.
Let it be known, before I take the rear of the Bonds defense that I personally do not like Barry Bonds. I am not so much concerned for Barry's well being, but for the children he has been kidnapping and dragging to every press conference. Somewhere along the way, his agent convinced him that death by ceremonial Olympic Torch lighting is not the way to go, and Barry has begun to try to become a media darling (something like Kenny Rodgers). Therefore he has turned Michael Jackson and is using children's endearing cuteness to try and swindle chronic ESPNews watchers into his corner.
So for the kids...
Well, before I help out the desperate children, if you, personally, are ever working out at BALCO (not to be confused with Bharat Aluminum Company Ltd. which is an Indian company) and a man by the name Victor ever tries to get you to use anything, you ask what it is. Especially if his name is as questionable as Victor Conte, and he hands you something that he simply refers to as, "The Cream." Your best bet, might be to simply ask what "The Cream" is or just refuse based on your skepticism of Victor Conte as a mafia man, and the presumption that "The Cream" is referred to in such vague terms because of some inappropriate attributes. However, Barry, unfortunately wasn't intelligent enough to ask what was in "The Cream," instead he simply assumed it was Flaxseed Oil.
So, back to Barry Bonds' probably acne riddled back...
Did Barry Bonds ever use steroids? The obvious answer is yes. If you are one of the .0004 percent of people who still believe Bonds, look at him here, and then here. Okay case closed. Now, as for his defense.
The first problem is our view of the past. We do not look back with tact, we look back with nostalgia. This nostalgic view of the past is blurrying sports fan's abilities to see the all time greats for what they were. I once saw a list of many biblical figures and their not-so-biblical behavior. This (I suppose) served as a bridging agent between the two realms: ancient and modern. Well, in some cases that needs to be done in the world of sports. These grandfathers of baseball are not, in most cases, model citizens. The most eye popping scenario would have to be the Pete Rose incident and the Shoeless Joe incident - both of which had to do with betting. However, pretty much all of baseball's elder statesmen had their vices. Therefore, their "good guy" image (and pedastal) is incorrect, and therefore an impossible measuring stick for modern players.
The brunt of the issue however (and this is tongue in cheek for those of you who aren't as deft at picking up my sarcasm) is the definition of performance enhancing drugs. Now, obviously this term is applied to steroids. This makes sense because steroids make one stronger, and therefore more able to hit home runs. However, there are many other kind of performance enhancers that have been declared illegal over the years: cork, vaseline, metal bats, rocket boosters, etc. Therefore, if Bonds home run pace and its apparent cause (steroids) should be tossed out to prevent the nostalgic old times from being eclipsed by the "juiced ball era" than perhaps a few other safeguards should be made.
For instance, no one wants to see one of these young guns like Jose Reyes pass Rickey Henderson for all time stolen bases, so lets ban cleats for players who are fast.
Also, players who hit for a good average have to use stickball bats, so that noone ever hits .400 again, and Ted Williams can be the last person ever to reach said milestone. This will also serve as a way to moderate hit streaks. So, lets say Jimmy Rollins, get on, an appropriately named, roll and rattles off another high 30's hit streak, we'll simply give him a little tiny barrelled bat and it will force him to go ohfer on a night and thus the threat of someone breaking DiMaggio's hit streak record will vanish.
Then lastly, noone wants to ever see any strikeout records broken. So, lets give pitchers with electric stuff balls without raised laces. They wouldn't be able to get any spin on the ball and therefore everything they throw will be battered by batters.
This sounds like a really exciting brand of baseball to me. Especially when Selig rules that the pain relieving effects of Tylenol and other meds of the sort enhance performance (which they do) and bans them from all professional athletes. Without this, it will force players who play everday and get hit and bruised by the grueling schedule to miss days. Thus, protecting Cal Ripken Jr.s game's played in a row streak.
Performance enhancement is a sort of enigma that is far too broad to be brought down on one sector of baseball skill. The ability to hit home runs is in large part due to strength and muscle mass, but is also due to good plate discipline, good hand eye coordination, great bat speed, and other intangibles that Bonds does have. Regardless of whether or not Bonds used (note: past tense) steroids, he is going to break the home run record, and he's going to do so without ever failing a drug test. Yes, it is a shame. However, Barry Bonds cant be the poster child for fans simply longing for a time in baseball's past when players played the game right. It is not Barry Bond's fault that these past times are viewed in such a half light of brilliance, it is also not Barry's prerogative to pass tests that were not administered. If baseball had always tested for steroids as rigorously as they do now, then this would have never been an issue. However, they did not, and therefore nothing he did in the past can be proven with certainty. Baseball players cannot be held to higher standards than anyone else, and we only need look into the world of politics to see how corrupt and self promoting humans are - Barry cannot and should not pay for the sins of humanity just because he is breaking a beloved record.
Barry Bonds is on the cusp and when I say on the cusp I mean: 19 games without a homer and one shy of taking Babe's place for second on the all time HR list. What does this mean? Well, pretty soon, Barry will hit a home run breaking the tie for second and clearly distinguishing himself as the second best home run hitter ever. But, is he?
The only point in conflict is Bonds' supposed use of steroids (or performance enhancing drugs). This is a big deal I suppose, and therefore recently ESPN published a poll on what the sports world thought of Bonds. The poll begged the question what should the ceremony be like when Bonds breaks Hank Aaron's all time HR record be (because everyone knows deep down, he will). The overwhelming majority decided that the befitting celebration would be affix a large cloth soaked in gasoline to Barry's body. The cloth would be lit and used in the ceremonial lighting of the next Olympic Torch. It is quite astonishing how violent a celebration it is, but as we've known for a long time, sports fans are ruthless. Therefore, since we are on the cusp of history and this is a big deal -- I suppose I shall spread some rays of light into the crotchal region of sports known as cheating.
Let it be known, before I take the rear of the Bonds defense that I personally do not like Barry Bonds. I am not so much concerned for Barry's well being, but for the children he has been kidnapping and dragging to every press conference. Somewhere along the way, his agent convinced him that death by ceremonial Olympic Torch lighting is not the way to go, and Barry has begun to try to become a media darling (something like Kenny Rodgers). Therefore he has turned Michael Jackson and is using children's endearing cuteness to try and swindle chronic ESPNews watchers into his corner.
So for the kids...
Well, before I help out the desperate children, if you, personally, are ever working out at BALCO (not to be confused with Bharat Aluminum Company Ltd. which is an Indian company) and a man by the name Victor ever tries to get you to use anything, you ask what it is. Especially if his name is as questionable as Victor Conte, and he hands you something that he simply refers to as, "The Cream." Your best bet, might be to simply ask what "The Cream" is or just refuse based on your skepticism of Victor Conte as a mafia man, and the presumption that "The Cream" is referred to in such vague terms because of some inappropriate attributes. However, Barry, unfortunately wasn't intelligent enough to ask what was in "The Cream," instead he simply assumed it was Flaxseed Oil.
So, back to Barry Bonds' probably acne riddled back...
Did Barry Bonds ever use steroids? The obvious answer is yes. If you are one of the .0004 percent of people who still believe Bonds, look at him here, and then here. Okay case closed. Now, as for his defense.
The first problem is our view of the past. We do not look back with tact, we look back with nostalgia. This nostalgic view of the past is blurrying sports fan's abilities to see the all time greats for what they were. I once saw a list of many biblical figures and their not-so-biblical behavior. This (I suppose) served as a bridging agent between the two realms: ancient and modern. Well, in some cases that needs to be done in the world of sports. These grandfathers of baseball are not, in most cases, model citizens. The most eye popping scenario would have to be the Pete Rose incident and the Shoeless Joe incident - both of which had to do with betting. However, pretty much all of baseball's elder statesmen had their vices. Therefore, their "good guy" image (and pedastal) is incorrect, and therefore an impossible measuring stick for modern players.
The brunt of the issue however (and this is tongue in cheek for those of you who aren't as deft at picking up my sarcasm) is the definition of performance enhancing drugs. Now, obviously this term is applied to steroids. This makes sense because steroids make one stronger, and therefore more able to hit home runs. However, there are many other kind of performance enhancers that have been declared illegal over the years: cork, vaseline, metal bats, rocket boosters, etc. Therefore, if Bonds home run pace and its apparent cause (steroids) should be tossed out to prevent the nostalgic old times from being eclipsed by the "juiced ball era" than perhaps a few other safeguards should be made.
For instance, no one wants to see one of these young guns like Jose Reyes pass Rickey Henderson for all time stolen bases, so lets ban cleats for players who are fast.
Also, players who hit for a good average have to use stickball bats, so that noone ever hits .400 again, and Ted Williams can be the last person ever to reach said milestone. This will also serve as a way to moderate hit streaks. So, lets say Jimmy Rollins, get on, an appropriately named, roll and rattles off another high 30's hit streak, we'll simply give him a little tiny barrelled bat and it will force him to go ohfer on a night and thus the threat of someone breaking DiMaggio's hit streak record will vanish.
Then lastly, noone wants to ever see any strikeout records broken. So, lets give pitchers with electric stuff balls without raised laces. They wouldn't be able to get any spin on the ball and therefore everything they throw will be battered by batters.
This sounds like a really exciting brand of baseball to me. Especially when Selig rules that the pain relieving effects of Tylenol and other meds of the sort enhance performance (which they do) and bans them from all professional athletes. Without this, it will force players who play everday and get hit and bruised by the grueling schedule to miss days. Thus, protecting Cal Ripken Jr.s game's played in a row streak.
Performance enhancement is a sort of enigma that is far too broad to be brought down on one sector of baseball skill. The ability to hit home runs is in large part due to strength and muscle mass, but is also due to good plate discipline, good hand eye coordination, great bat speed, and other intangibles that Bonds does have. Regardless of whether or not Bonds used (note: past tense) steroids, he is going to break the home run record, and he's going to do so without ever failing a drug test. Yes, it is a shame. However, Barry Bonds cant be the poster child for fans simply longing for a time in baseball's past when players played the game right. It is not Barry Bond's fault that these past times are viewed in such a half light of brilliance, it is also not Barry's prerogative to pass tests that were not administered. If baseball had always tested for steroids as rigorously as they do now, then this would have never been an issue. However, they did not, and therefore nothing he did in the past can be proven with certainty. Baseball players cannot be held to higher standards than anyone else, and we only need look into the world of politics to see how corrupt and self promoting humans are - Barry cannot and should not pay for the sins of humanity just because he is breaking a beloved record.
19 May 2006
Undervalued feelings. pt. 1
We never acknowledge how great it feels to....
...launch a waterballoon and have it make solid contact with our target.
...wake up way too early, and get a whole lot of crap done before everyone wakes up.
to be continued...
...launch a waterballoon and have it make solid contact with our target.
...wake up way too early, and get a whole lot of crap done before everyone wakes up.
to be continued...
Top 5
Top five (okay eight) places I'd like to go right now (some are speculative (of course) because for instance, a few would be tres appropriate with a little misses).
Eight. Tour of the S. Pacific
A J.Hassell original - Vietnam, Thailand, Australia, New Zealand then maybe back to Hawaii.
Seven. South America
The rainforest/Amazonia - crazy unadulterated rainforest. i.e. this
Six. Martha's Vineyard
Fried clams on a summer night.
Five. Fenway Park (Boston, Mass.)
Obviously.
Catch a few game drives, a few nights on the veranda and then a trip south to Hermans, SA to visit the Johnsons - not bad.
Two. Madrid
Beautiful city, beautiful people.
One. Capri (Italy)
Just look, it's self explanatory.
and of course even more alluring than any of these is playing croquet on the Memfrica croquet courts with Nicholas August (Cubs fan) VanDerVoort.
P.S. -- I'll admit when doing this I stumbled across a GQ article (I know - GQ = eww.) that had a top "27 places to take her" and a few of their places were quite intriguing. Intriguing enough to merit top eight consideration.
I'm not this well traveled, I had some help.
Eight. Tour of the S. Pacific
A J.Hassell original - Vietnam, Thailand, Australia, New Zealand then maybe back to Hawaii.
Seven. South America
The rainforest/Amazonia - crazy unadulterated rainforest. i.e. this
Six. Martha's Vineyard
Fried clams on a summer night.
Five. Fenway Park (Boston, Mass.)
Obviously.
Four. Spring House Hotel (Block Island, Rhode Island)
"It is considered one of Block Island's most elegant historic landmarks. The Spring House, with its wraparound veranda, mansard roof and distinctive cupola, rises from a 15 acre promontory overlooking the Atlantic Ocean and the Block Island's foothills. For these and many other reasons, it is counted among New England's most desirable destinations. Throughout its colorful 150 year history, the island's oldest hotel has hosted notables ranging from Ulysses S. Grant and Mark Twain to singer Billy Joel. The Spring House has even provided the formal setting for Kennedy wedding in its recent past."
Three. Crater Lodge (Ngorongoro, Tanzania)"It is considered one of Block Island's most elegant historic landmarks. The Spring House, with its wraparound veranda, mansard roof and distinctive cupola, rises from a 15 acre promontory overlooking the Atlantic Ocean and the Block Island's foothills. For these and many other reasons, it is counted among New England's most desirable destinations. Throughout its colorful 150 year history, the island's oldest hotel has hosted notables ranging from Ulysses S. Grant and Mark Twain to singer Billy Joel. The Spring House has even provided the formal setting for Kennedy wedding in its recent past."
Catch a few game drives, a few nights on the veranda and then a trip south to Hermans, SA to visit the Johnsons - not bad.
Two. Madrid
Beautiful city, beautiful people.
One. Capri (Italy)
Just look, it's self explanatory.
and of course even more alluring than any of these is playing croquet on the Memfrica croquet courts with Nicholas August (Cubs fan) VanDerVoort.
P.S. -- I'll admit when doing this I stumbled across a GQ article (I know - GQ = eww.) that had a top "27 places to take her" and a few of their places were quite intriguing. Intriguing enough to merit top eight consideration.
I'm not this well traveled, I had some help.
16 May 2006
the bad news cubs?
It is official - as much as I hate to say it - the Chicago Cubs are horrible. Chicago is one helluva city. They've got Millenium park and a bunch of dopes who just talk in annoying midwestern accents. They've got the train system and a fun downtown. Basically it is everything you'd ever want in a city, except for one thing. They absolutely suck at sports. The Cubs are the latest example. One might argue that the White Sox won the world series last year - which is true, but noone in Chicago actually claims the White Sox. The White Sox are like the wannabe Chicagoan's team. They play second fiddle to the ever-cellar dwelling Cubs in the Windy City. (Plus what kind of team can try to gain notoriety while playing with a name that is obviously a rip-off of the Red Sox). Here are a few notes about Chicago's miserable sports history.
Michael Jordan is the greatest basketball player to have ever lived, sorry Bron-Bron. Teachers have taught me all growing up, that there is an exception to every rule. i.e. "i before e, except after c" --- neice. Anyway, MJ was the exception to the Chicago suckathon in sports.
The Bulls played decent ball this year, they made it to the play offs. So what. The Bears are the same way.
The Blackhawks -- who cares.
The Cubs. The Cubs are a team that I love dearly. Why? Because I love the tradition of baseball. I love the Red Sox, I hate the Yankees - I cried when Harry Caray fell down the dugout steps. I love the Cubs tradition. However, even with players like Greg Maddux (era 1 and 2), Ryne Sandberg, Derek Lee, Sammy Sosa (in his prime), Prior/Wood, Ernie Banks, Mark Grace, Andre Dawson and Glenallen Hill; the Cubs never manage to meet expectations.
This year is even more atrocious. Over the past two weeks, the Cubs have won a total of two games. That brings that two week record to 2-13. During that time they were shutout by a complete game performance four times - each time by a pitcher who had never before had a comparable performance. The Cubs, right now, are the whipping post of the National League Central. I don't care how far out they are at this point or how many injuries they have had. They simply make opposing teams, and pitchers look good. The Cubs pitchers walk a ton of people (see Brian Giles' 5 walks in sunday's game) and the Cubs offense just can't get it going (see Clay Hensley's 2 hit shutout in the same game) these two things combined equals a team that just sucks (see the Padres' sweep of the season series - the first time thats happened since dinosaurs roamed the earth).
Michael Jordan is the greatest basketball player to have ever lived, sorry Bron-Bron. Teachers have taught me all growing up, that there is an exception to every rule. i.e. "i before e, except after c" --- neice. Anyway, MJ was the exception to the Chicago suckathon in sports.
The Bulls played decent ball this year, they made it to the play offs. So what. The Bears are the same way.
The Blackhawks -- who cares.
The Cubs. The Cubs are a team that I love dearly. Why? Because I love the tradition of baseball. I love the Red Sox, I hate the Yankees - I cried when Harry Caray fell down the dugout steps. I love the Cubs tradition. However, even with players like Greg Maddux (era 1 and 2), Ryne Sandberg, Derek Lee, Sammy Sosa (in his prime), Prior/Wood, Ernie Banks, Mark Grace, Andre Dawson and Glenallen Hill; the Cubs never manage to meet expectations.
This year is even more atrocious. Over the past two weeks, the Cubs have won a total of two games. That brings that two week record to 2-13. During that time they were shutout by a complete game performance four times - each time by a pitcher who had never before had a comparable performance. The Cubs, right now, are the whipping post of the National League Central. I don't care how far out they are at this point or how many injuries they have had. They simply make opposing teams, and pitchers look good. The Cubs pitchers walk a ton of people (see Brian Giles' 5 walks in sunday's game) and the Cubs offense just can't get it going (see Clay Hensley's 2 hit shutout in the same game) these two things combined equals a team that just sucks (see the Padres' sweep of the season series - the first time thats happened since dinosaurs roamed the earth).
Grub
Is it odd that I find it quite enraging when I see that Paul, my fellow 1508 Highlander, has eaten one of my packets of oatmeal; but I find it rather normal to eat all of his Yoplait yogurt and orange dreamsicles?
15 May 2006
irk me
How is it that Nick VanDerVoort, the same Nick VanDerVoort who wrote supposed children's tales about an ant who abruptly dies, writes a blog about some nonsensical tribulation of shopping for underwear and gets three replies? I don't understand. One, maybe the fact that he comments on his own blog, but that is beside the point, i'm frustrated by you guys - my fans, I need some comments, I need some ego fueling.
By the way, I picked up Mike Lowell on my fantasy team and he was activated today in, he proceded to go 3 for 5 with a triple and a home run. If you are searching for something nice to comment...you could simply say, "good managing, sir."
By the way, I picked up Mike Lowell on my fantasy team and he was activated today in, he proceded to go 3 for 5 with a triple and a home run. If you are searching for something nice to comment...you could simply say, "good managing, sir."
13 May 2006
Satisfied.
"I want him, but he don't want me.
He wants somebody else that I can't be,
and she's got a man that she wants to leave
cause he can't seem to make her happy.
Does it have to be wrong to make it feel right,
tell me why aint nobody satisfied?"
Did I write this? No, I wish. It is a song called Satisfied by Ashley Monroe.
You read that and you say, "It's a play off of A Midsummer Night's Dream." If so, one that makes her sexy (which she already is, because of her voice) and two, I'm impressed that someone actually references literature.
Sorry, but
"I wrote her off for the tenth time today
practiced all the things I would say
she came over, I lost my nerve
I took her back and made a dessert"
really doesn't strike me as a literary masterpiece.
He wants somebody else that I can't be,
and she's got a man that she wants to leave
cause he can't seem to make her happy.
Does it have to be wrong to make it feel right,
tell me why aint nobody satisfied?"
Did I write this? No, I wish. It is a song called Satisfied by Ashley Monroe.
You read that and you say, "It's a play off of A Midsummer Night's Dream." If so, one that makes her sexy (which she already is, because of her voice) and two, I'm impressed that someone actually references literature.
Sorry, but
"I wrote her off for the tenth time today
practiced all the things I would say
she came over, I lost my nerve
I took her back and made a dessert"
really doesn't strike me as a literary masterpiece.
08 May 2006
Mama's Day
In lieu of the fast approaching mother's day, I'll leave you with some words of inspiration. This, hopefully, will lead you right back to where you came from with thanks and praise for your "mama."
I moved out and started really hang'n
I needed money of my own so I started slang'n
I an't guilty cause, even though I sell rocks
It feels good, putting money in your mailbox
I love paying rent when tha rent's due
I hope ya go tha diamond necklace that I sent to you
cause when I was low, you was there for me
ya never left me alone, cause ya cared for me
and I can see ya coming home after work late
ya in tha kitchen trying to fix us a hot plate
just workin with tha scraps you was given
and mama made miracles every Thanksgivin'
but now tha road got rough, your alon
trying to raise two bad kids on your own
and there's no way I can pay ya back
but my plan is to show ya that I understand
you are appreciated....
pour out some liquor and I remenisce
cause through the drama, I can always depend on my mama
and when it seems that I'm hopeless
you say the words that can get me back in focus
when I was sick as a little kid
to keep me happy there's no limit to the things you did
and all my childhood memories
are full of all the sweet things ya did for me
and even though I act crazy
I got ta thank the Lord that ya made me
there are no words that can express how I feel
Ya never kept a secret, always stayed real
and I appreciate how ya raised me
and all the extra love that ya gave me
I wish I could take the pain away
If you can make it through the night, there's a brighter day
everything'll be alright if ya hold on
it's a struggle
everyday gotta roll on
and there's no way I can pay ya back
but my plan is to show ya that I understand
you are appreciated....
- The Tupac Shakur "Dear Mama"
I moved out and started really hang'n
I needed money of my own so I started slang'n
I an't guilty cause, even though I sell rocks
It feels good, putting money in your mailbox
I love paying rent when tha rent's due
I hope ya go tha diamond necklace that I sent to you
cause when I was low, you was there for me
ya never left me alone, cause ya cared for me
and I can see ya coming home after work late
ya in tha kitchen trying to fix us a hot plate
just workin with tha scraps you was given
and mama made miracles every Thanksgivin'
but now tha road got rough, your alon
trying to raise two bad kids on your own
and there's no way I can pay ya back
but my plan is to show ya that I understand
you are appreciated....
pour out some liquor and I remenisce
cause through the drama, I can always depend on my mama
and when it seems that I'm hopeless
you say the words that can get me back in focus
when I was sick as a little kid
to keep me happy there's no limit to the things you did
and all my childhood memories
are full of all the sweet things ya did for me
and even though I act crazy
I got ta thank the Lord that ya made me
there are no words that can express how I feel
Ya never kept a secret, always stayed real
and I appreciate how ya raised me
and all the extra love that ya gave me
I wish I could take the pain away
If you can make it through the night, there's a brighter day
everything'll be alright if ya hold on
it's a struggle
everyday gotta roll on
and there's no way I can pay ya back
but my plan is to show ya that I understand
you are appreciated....
- The Tupac Shakur "Dear Mama"
A Neugatorial
What Canadian city grew out of Samuel de Champlain's trading post along the St. Lawrence?
Quebec. Now you know.
So I do own a page a day calender. I do this every year. Last year I learned a new word everyday. I remember maybe two of them. The year before that I had the "365 Best Golf Holes" Calender. It was quite fun. However this years calender is by far the greatest. "Trivial Pursuit Page-a-day." The question above is the question for May 8th - today. Every day I lean in real close and tear away the previous day. Alas, there is an invigorating and challenging question for me to chew on. After sufficient chewing I begin to swallow the question down - basically swallowing my pride enough to flip over the page and look at the answer. At this moment of great enlightenment I do not relish the glory of gained knowledge, but I am disappointed at my lack thereof. However, this seems very childish now, in hindsight. I am disappointed in myself for not knowing the city that originated from Champlain's trading post on the St. Lawrence River. I suppose the only reason I would be disappointed is somewhere in the back of my mind I think it would be crazy delicious to just know the answers.
(this blog will be somewhat of a Goosebumps "create your own ending" style. Therefore, if you are sufficiently nourished by my observation of my page a day calender then simply click on "art vampeir the ant" and read something else. However, if you'd like to choose the second door and venture further into my convoluted brain and watch me flounder as I try to draw this out into some broad truth, then continue reading.)
The fact of the matter is that I am very insufficiently happy with my education. I do not feel that I have a great grasp of most of the material I've been taught. Therefore, I would in most cases consider myself underdeveloped when it comes to straight knowledge. However when did knowledge every become something to quantify? When did this become a game rather than an endeavor. I'm just frustrated by this because there is such a pressure put on us, youth, to achieve. No, I don't mean learn - we must learn better. We must learn in a way that advances us past most everyone else. AP classes and high grades on SAT's are expected now. What ever happened to allowing kids to learn the information in the way they best engage material? Why can't we accept that kids don't all learn the same? Why do we grade every child by the same fundamental guidelines, when we openly acknowledge that all kids are individuals?
Quebec. Now you know.
So I do own a page a day calender. I do this every year. Last year I learned a new word everyday. I remember maybe two of them. The year before that I had the "365 Best Golf Holes" Calender. It was quite fun. However this years calender is by far the greatest. "Trivial Pursuit Page-a-day." The question above is the question for May 8th - today. Every day I lean in real close and tear away the previous day. Alas, there is an invigorating and challenging question for me to chew on. After sufficient chewing I begin to swallow the question down - basically swallowing my pride enough to flip over the page and look at the answer. At this moment of great enlightenment I do not relish the glory of gained knowledge, but I am disappointed at my lack thereof. However, this seems very childish now, in hindsight. I am disappointed in myself for not knowing the city that originated from Champlain's trading post on the St. Lawrence River. I suppose the only reason I would be disappointed is somewhere in the back of my mind I think it would be crazy delicious to just know the answers.
(this blog will be somewhat of a Goosebumps "create your own ending" style. Therefore, if you are sufficiently nourished by my observation of my page a day calender then simply click on "art vampeir the ant" and read something else. However, if you'd like to choose the second door and venture further into my convoluted brain and watch me flounder as I try to draw this out into some broad truth, then continue reading.)
The fact of the matter is that I am very insufficiently happy with my education. I do not feel that I have a great grasp of most of the material I've been taught. Therefore, I would in most cases consider myself underdeveloped when it comes to straight knowledge. However when did knowledge every become something to quantify? When did this become a game rather than an endeavor. I'm just frustrated by this because there is such a pressure put on us, youth, to achieve. No, I don't mean learn - we must learn better. We must learn in a way that advances us past most everyone else. AP classes and high grades on SAT's are expected now. What ever happened to allowing kids to learn the information in the way they best engage material? Why can't we accept that kids don't all learn the same? Why do we grade every child by the same fundamental guidelines, when we openly acknowledge that all kids are individuals?
06 May 2006
Ebbs
There is something beautifully romantic about water. It's form is so unbridled by common normality. There is no boundary to water and there is no regular way in which it moves. It is true to it's form - which is no form. Beauty isn't a form. It isn't what we see all over the place, it is that "thing" that catches our attention. Not catches our eye, it can be visually stimulated, but that is far too narrow. That "thing" can be a painting, a girl, or a billboard. Beauty has no form, it is fleeting - it changes - and that's why we love beauty. We love beauty because we love freedom, and beauty (like water) is free.
02 May 2006
Some people call me Maurice...
Call me a dreamer, but as exam time grinds down like overweight gears grind against rusted iron, I can't help but think of getting out of this place. Somehow, it seems like anywhere else but this cramped expanse of books and people, and computers and thinking, would be a welcomed change. The ideal place for this exodus would lay in some Major League park. There would be a really annoying fan, who was rooting for all of the wrong things to happen - like my guys to strike out and other heinous things in the same boat. The crisp smell of grass meeting dirt on a misty summer midafternoon rising and intoxicating my busy mind. The drunkenness of the splintering bats, of the scuffed and torn ball and the time worn glove. The syncopation of all three intermingling in this drug. This drug that leaves so little else in existance. The stadium takes over and the rest of the world slips off into the ocean. As the tension rises and the pestilence of differing fandom rises, a crack and a shot. The rawhide shoots off the bat like neurons being cast out by the wooden axons. In fluid motion the shortstop ranges left and dives, gracefully hurdling through the air and then violently upsetting the dirt. As the dust settles he cocks his arm back poised to throw, and in a most elegant motion the ball is cast from his right arm. It is high, and flies timultuously into the stands where it collides with the annoying man in front of me. He falls haphazardly to the floor, knocking over the beer that he's been sipping occasionally for the past hour. His voice shrill as he falls and then silence sweeps the park. As home is awarded to the home team and the annoying visitor has been stricken down we stand in unison to break the silence and let out a sheer cry of joy into the distilled sun and the orange clouds. And then I take a look at those orange clouds and they blur and turn back into library lights and I am reminded of that fat finger wagging in front of me and telling me to pay attention. Telling me to quit dreaming.
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