Turn it Off

Break sucks.

Don't get me wrong sleeping till noon and laying around all day while I catch up on reading and TV shows is awesome.

But I'm not doing anything.

Not doing anything is probably the worst thing I can do with my time. It assures me countless hours of unadulterated thinking. I'll ponder things that simply do not matter, or are not even worth worrying about.

I freak out about my future. My relationships. My body and my mind. In reality all of these things are great. I'm in a place in my life where everything is very rewarding and the people in it are a constant blessing. But I still analyze it all because I don't have a paper to worry about or shift changes to approve.

Backbone

I got a text message today, from someone who was a friend at one time. She had been approached by someone who asked her the fastest way to get rid of a hickey. She asked me if she should be offended. You may see why our friendship is considered past tense.

The fact that she was asked is sort of irrelevant. The fact that SHE asked ME how SHE should feel, is what bothered me most.

This isn't a new development. I wish this was the first occurrence of people asking me how they should feel about something. I realize this question is more to get my opinion on the matter and not specifically a request for exact feelings. But there is a deeper lying problem within a lot of people that this presents.

Nobody owns anything.

What I mean to say is, that people in current American society do not own anything. There is the literal representation: home mortgages and car payments that say the bank really owns your possessions. What I'm driving at is that so few people own their desires and wants.

Take for instance the current situation. This girl needs to ask me how she should feel. Why isn't her feeling of being slightly offended acceptable enough? Why does she need to check with someone to see if being offended is OK? Should I ask her if to tell me if her question is stupid? Not at all, I think it is and therefor it is stupid. I don't need her validation for my own thoughts.

Just like we don't own our feelings, we don't own the causes of them. We get upset about a bad grade in class. So we blame the professor and the material, but rarely ourselves. You know, the person who slept through half the semester and didn't bother to study for the final.

It frustrates me to no end that no one belongs to themselves anymore. It is always about acceptance.

Scenes from a blackout

On 11-19-09, an exploded transformer caused NAU campus to go dark. The following are observations while campus sat in darkness.

--

The black found me playing ping pong with Katie. The first words out of her mouth are not "uh-oh" or "what happened." No, instead the lights go dark and Katie says "My point". I love this woman.

Overheard: A young man on his cell phone saying that he was second in line at Cobrizo's. This may be the second worst tragedy caused by the blackout. Only beaten by the poor sap who was actually ordering. Any deaths are irrelevant.

I realize that residents think RAs have secret access to university information. Hell, sometimes I purposely portray that very thing. Regardless of this fact the question "What happened" is still stupid. Of course I was asked it multiple times.

Friendly reminder that college does not require actual intelligence: I had to put signs on the elevators saying they were not working.

Naturally I want to know what's going on. A wave of concern flows over me that our society is way too dependent on digital information. I can't get on my computer. Certainly it runs on battery, but the internet routers do not. I cannot call my front desk because it's a cordless phone. APS doesn't have a twitter account, and even if it did I can't find it because my phone doesn't have a browser. Luckily this flush of panic quickly passes. Radio in the truck still works.

Flagstaff is too small. All our radio stations are ported from PHX, or serve Prescott, Sedona and Flag. No one cares about Not A University's problem.

Evidently 90% of the population in McConnell decided the blackout was a right and proper time to light up the buddah. Is anyone surprised?

if you're reading this

you're alive

If that's not something to smile about,

then I don't know what is

Untitled

Attention is regulated into projects. At any given time there are several but you work on that project, obsess about it, thrive on it, desire to know everything about it. A new novel by your favorite author. The latest album from a band you've only just started listening to. Exercise. Whatever.

Some come and go. The projects that stick become hobbies. If it doesn't stick at least for a brief moment you were dedicated to something new, and now it's filed away into your shallow knowledge of everything. The hobbies that you do constantly for months those become your passions.

Passions are nice. They're comfortable things you always can go back to. You unwind with a former hobby that you can do without thinking, and instead ponder your day.

But for me, it isn't about the passions or even the hobbies, though I love the ones I have. It's the projects. The things I spend hours combing the internet for. Books for "dummies" that never quite reach that "reference for the rest of us" level.

I pick up new projects all the time. The moments when I'm not speaking, I'm thinking about my next project. The new bike I want. Swimming on a regular basis. Fantasy basketball, and learning a new sport that I have little knowledge about.

So I'll keep my passions and hobbies. But I'm always searching for my next project.

All You Need

www.boston.com/bigpicture/2009/09/a_collection_of_kisses.html

Wind

It's nice to exert some effort. After a few months of sitting and waiting it's nice to have that turmoil of work again. The goal is in sight and I'm pushing towards it.

That point off in the horizon has a taste of sweetness. It's not about standing on the hill and realizing you're above so many others. It's about looking down the mountain and seeing everyone else struggling upward. The slope didn't conquer you, and when those others achieve you'll have a great hug and smile to share.

The ride north isn't easy. There is the cliche that nothing that is worth it is easy. Sure that's true but making the move towards it is always easy. North is where you want to be. Home is there. Love is there. Things that matter, are there.

I like the ride north. Especially on my bike Kaze. Reflecting on the burn in my legs and sting in my throat reminds me that I am not the destination, I am just the journey.

Progress

Another dry spell without a post.

Life keeps spinning. Peaks and valleys. The progression has an annoying habit of being calm long enough for me to get calm myself, and then ramps up at a fevered pace so I can't sit still. It stresses, it soothes.

Whatever though, it's all good. I wouldn't change a thing.

I love how the summer was mildly unproductive in the moment, but beneficial for the future. I'm happy I have a full plate that doesn't give me a break. I'm glad that I've spent six months learning what it means to love a woman.

I like living. Even if what I'm doing isn't what I thought I would be doing, I'm still doing something.

And the stories are good.

Juice

Here we are again. A report is out today that claims Manny and Big Papi tested positive for PED's in 03.

Sports are about being better. Better than the guy who is sitting on the bench waiting to take your spot. Better than the athletes who came before you. Better than what is expected of you to keep your role on a team.

Each athlete struggles. Especially in baseball which has more than 6 levels of play before the major league level, an athlete struggles to get better. Hit the ball harder. Hit it more often. Catch the ball and make the plays. Move up a level in the minors and start your process all over again. The percentage of players who make it to the majors from the minors is extremely small. It's a nearly impossible struggle to get to the majors.

Can you blame a player for taking a PED? You tell them there is a pill or injection they can take, and be better than the other guy and expect them not to want it? A drug that makes their workouts more beneficial. Or returns them to the sport faster after injury. Why wouldn't they want it?

Babe Ruth was swinging a tree at the plate. In the era when so many records were set, the players would go back to the clubhouse and have a drink and cigar in between innings. The sport has progressed, become more diverse and more competitive. Instead of just being better then white men in America, now you have to be better than up and comers from Japan, the Dominican Republic, and a variety of other places. As the sport progresses, the means to be better progress as well.

I don't know what's right. I don't know if it's cheating because it makes you better, faster. I can't blame any one of these men though, in a sport and country that is so competitive. You have to be better, or you aren't anyone.

Loud

"No reason at all to play it quiet" -Marv, Sin City

Loud music is an excellent form of quiet. When you can't hear the dog barking because of the guitar solo in your ear. Someone nagging is drowned out by the bass line in your head. Nothing else resonates besides the shrieking words of a tortured soul.

That urge to crank it up to eleven is a desire that transcends age. Just as she said she loved me, but she had somewhere to go blasts out of a twenty-somethings car stereo, so too did I ain't wastin no more time, here I go again scream off a vinyl. Our generation isn't the first to jump around their room playing air guitar. Years down the road kids will still be slamming out a beat on their steering wheels.

My father is hard of hearing. Years of concerts, radio, and blasting out to rock have taken their toll. Can you blame him? If I had the chance to hear Led Zeppelin the first time it was on the radio I'd crank it up. Go to a Lynard Skynard concert where Gary Rossington went on a 20 minute guitar solo? Yes please. With the music progression that occurred during his young adult life, I'm surprised he can hear at all.

So crank it up, turn your brain down, and tune out.

To anyone who will listen

Our generation is connected. Everyone has a cell phone, an email address, an account on a social networking site. People can be contacted thru countless means, and no one is out of reach for long. We don't realize that this works both ways. If you want to share something about yourself, all those people are also there to hear it.

Livejournal was an originator. When you wrote a post you could denote if you were "depressed" or "chipper". Any variety of prewritten emotions, could be attached to your rant about physics class. Myspace was guilty too with bulletins. Facebook statuses. Now Twitter is the worst offender. The ability to text an update for everyone to read is a dangerous temptation.

When you broadcast your feelings, you don't get to decide who hears it. The beauty and curse of the internet is that anyone, and I do mean ANYONE, can read about your sudden wave of depression. These same broadcasters then get upset and claim "it's none of your business!" when someone asks about it.

Really it isn't our business, you're right. You know how people are though, and when you open your life to the world the questions will stream in.

So stop sharing. If you don't want questions, if you don't want people to know, why are you telling us everyday?

Weepie

I lay motionless in bed

I thought of you and where you'd gone

On that cold April day, what did the firefighters discuss after they brought that young life into the world. Did they ponder the fact she might one day grow to fill someone's heart with joy?

I wonder if Orville Wright turned to his brother Wilbur after their first flight and said "You know, someday this technology will bring a young man and young woman together."

Did two parents, driving their family across the country to start a new life, imagine how it might effect their son? That someday coming home might cause him a new kind of pain?

When I took my first steps, did it cross my mind that I was taking one step closer to finding her?

And the world spins madly on

Found

I just returned from a round of frolf that started at 11:30. At night.

Here the sun only flirts with the horizon line. Mother nature doesn't tell you when to sleep.

There are many things to love here. The breathtaking beauty, the ocean out the back door, the smell of freshly caught fish, or the people. The small town feel of it all is very refreshing. Only five stop lights cross this town, but its character is endless.

Here I'm warm. But it isn't because of the constant sunshine. The warm is different, internal. Something I've been missing this summer in the chilly Valley.

I still can't get over frolfing at midnight. It sure is awesome doing one of my favorite activities with my favorite girl though.

Leavin'

In case you were wondering, I'll be flying to Alaska today.

In fact, I'm sitting in the terminal now.

I am beyond excited.

On the Airwaves

Heres a post that has been in the works for a while. I just needed to figure out how to embed audio in a post to make it work.

After working far too many Diamondback games at the radio station, I finally got the chance to work an actual talk show. Doug and Wolf have a show every weekday, from 5-9 in the morning. My first day, I was getting accustomed to how the show ran, and mostly observing. Upon returning from a break, they were playing a German drinking song, and those of us in the booth were swinging around whatever beverages we had as if they were steins. The following then ensued:

I was a bit embarrassed to say the least. That shortly gave way to flattery. It's nice having a father who reaches out like that, even if it is completely ridiculous.

Later on, prior to talking about the fact that the Washington Nationals gave away bobbleheads of Roosevelt with another misspelling that has come to denote Nationals existence. Naturally they decided to see if the American education system was to blame.

That is in fact my voice forgetting Jefferson. I am ashamed. Enjoying doing that show though, Doug and Wolf are absolutely nuts.

Self Reflection

Maybe I'm just an angry person.

You might refer to it as having a short fuse. Some people call it being a grouch, or a grumpy gus. Generally it just means I'm an asshole. Regardless of what you call it, I can get mean.

The other night during a conversation online, I was pissed. The conversation was frustrating to a point, but it was clear something else was bothering me. I signed off. I covered my exit, and went to an outlet. Longboarding on this occasion. Then I internalized. Thought about why I was mad. Why the conversation was making it worse. Couldn't come up with a thing. So I told myself to get over it.

And I did. Discussing the situation later with my mother she made the observation that both her husband and son have a habit of getting angry and hurting the people closest to them.

"That's why I left. I didn't want to do that" I replied.

It was nice to see that I can recognize a weakness, and minimize it.

Maybe I'm just a person, who gets angry.

Disconnected

This summer so far has showed me something that I didn't expect.

The people in this house, they aren't my family anymore.

Don't mistake that for me wanting to disown them or something. They'll always be my family, the people who brought me up and always give me support. Yet for the past two years, I haven't been here for any real length of time. I wasn't here for the passing of my great grandmother. I wasn't home when mom and dad decided to take the dogs to the shelter. I didn't see the struggles that occurred when Alyssa came home for emergency surgery, and then for her medical withdrawal.

Just as I wasn't here for countless struggles over the last two years, my family wasn't by my side for mine. As I worked to get my grades up, the year of being an RA and all the idiocy and pain the position brings.

The people that were there are my friends. Bryan was by my side as I struggled with deciding to be an RA again. Katie was there as I struggled to find if I was actually a good big brother. The McConnell staff saw me become a complete ass the night of SnowBall, and have to humble myself with apologies.

That's my family. Those people. And right now, none of them are here. Thousands of miles separate me from all of them. That's what makes this summer so difficult, that the people who really know me aren't here.

Don't get me wrong, talking to you everyday keeps me sane. It isn't the same though, being next to you is so much better.

Surname

Having your last name mean something is sort of an old school thought. Unless you're the child of some movie star or professional athlete your name probably isn't recognized.

I went to a pizza place to apply for a job the other day. My dad has worked there for years on an off, between jobs and for extra money on occasion. Handing the application to a manager, he eventually noticed the field where you list who referred you.

"Oh, how do you know Ed Goodloe?"

"He's my father"

"No way!? Another Goodloe"

Both managers shook my hand, and the one with my application told me he'd give it to the owner saying "Your name holds a lot of weight around here"

What a feeling. I've always been proud of my parents, and always aspired to have a work ethic as strong and dedicated as my fathers. Hearing that the hard working role model I look up to has made a name for himself was awesome.

Safe to say that I'll be busting my ass if I get that job.

Times Like These

It's difficult to know what to say at times like this. The end of a school year always brings a time for pondering and new beginnings. A fresh saga of pain and creation.

Change isn't as scary to me as it once was. I can uproot myself and change scenery without much thought. A new job, fresh living arrangement, an open pit of financial struggles. These are all things that have just become a part of life since college, and will likely continue for years down the road.

The change isn't the hard part. Being home, a new opportunity and seeing friends is all exciting and welcome. It's the lack of color. It's the way everything looks, or doesn't look. The way things smell or the lack of that smell. It's not an empty feeling or a "hole in the heart". Think of it more like the involuntary actions of the human body. You don't think about breathing or your heart beating. Yet if they weren't there, you'd be dead. Or lost.

I'm lost.

I told you I was going to be emo for a while.

It's not the storm before the calm

There is a certain majesty to uncertainty. Having a future and no clear cut path to get there can be exciting and nerve racking. On some level we want to know how it's all going to go. However, walking down an unmarked road can be a wonderful experience.

For me the summer was like this for a while. Now I know for the most part what is going to happen, where I'll be and what I'll be doing.

Though it's nice to finally have that figured out, it seems most of my life is still up in there air. Next year will bring a variety of new challenges and hardships. The glamourous part being that I have no idea what any of them will be. I just pray for the strength to move through them to the next bridge.

Saying less

Tim noticed a lack of activity in our blogs. Rhymes had a note about it. I've noticed too. We haven't been updating. Who knows why. The semester winds down and we all get busy.

I tried to come up with a way to say it but I think Bryan does it better:

"It's tough to blog when there's no real self-realizations happening."

I'll agree with the sentiment here. So much is occurring and swirling around that it's difficult to grab hold of any one thing right now. For me the summer is still uncertain. The end of the semester is extremely near, as close as 48 hours away.

My prayer is that when school starts again next semester, I'll still feel this way. That the notion that I have friends who care is still there. The feeling I get when I look into her eyes. How I know she feels about me.

If nothing else, spring of 2009 has made me more appreciative of it all.

Fully Alive

As the semester draws to a close I can't help but be thrilled, and saddened.

This semester has been full of experiences. Biz Block has tested my patience and time management skills. McConnell has taught me countless things about life and responsibility. Lys has shown me that even the strongest of people can falter on occasion.

Moving to a new hall and new staff will test me once again. Being away from Katie for the better part of three months will not be easy. Having a successful summer is still up in the air.

I've never been one to dwell on my past or regret my mistakes. This year has shown me that who I am, is who I want to be. It just took the right people surrounding me to see it.

Stay

Come on get higher/loosen my lips

faith and desire and the swing of your hips

Lately all I've done is school work. Constantly busy, always going. All I really want is to sit and relax. To simply do nothing.

But most of all I want is to hold you. Every hour of every day.

I miss the sound of your voice

the loudest thing in my head

Several thousand miles

Three days ago, the trip was over. The car was cleaned, bags unpacked, stories told. Each of the three went their own direction for a while. Having spent 9 days with the others was more than enough.

People would ask how it was. Did you have a good break? Sadly, there is no answer. It was an experience, unlike any other. Hours and hours logged on the road. Bus rides, long walks, thousands of miles. Three cities and four states. Visions of the majesty that is Earth and of the goodness of people.

Simply responding "it was good" never tells you what you want to hear. Yet, words cannot describe what was felt. It was a week like any other and at the same time, perfectly unique.

--

There is a post floating around, that I wrote after a night in San Francisco. Perhaps someday I will post it and you'll get the chance to understand what the trip was for me. For now thoughit's for me and the people I keep close to my heart.

Here, everyone has a guitar

Let's build a treehouse

Like the Grand Canyon, you'll never appreciate this size until you see it.

A city of hills

It's actually more orange.

By the numbers

766 miles, $48 in gas, 12 hours, 3 men;

One amazing start.

Today

We embark.

With poise, with grace

Don't take pictures at a concert. Don't take video. How can anyone ever understand the experience from a pixelated image, or a grainy video?

A picture won't explain the smell. The sweat dripping from your face, bodies pressed in against you. The headache you get from crowd surfers being slammed into you. The way you scream your lungs out with hundreds around you. The heat. The pain. The pleasure.

It's clear a show was good when you can see it on someone's face. When their voice isn't there. Bruises on the arms and legs. That twinkle in their eye.

So don't take pictures. Just play your little part in something big.

Takes my pain away

I tend to judge how important things are in my life by how often I think about them. Fantasy baseball was pretty important. Spring break is the current focus.

Yet some things are important and rarely get brain time. Family for instance. So much of myself is defined by my blood that they're infinitely important. Though in a 24 hour day only 15 minutes might be devoted to thinking about family.

So is this benchmark good? Is the percentage of my day spent thinking about something really representative of how I feel about it? Maybe, but like anything it's subjective. New things that persist in my train of thought are worth a second look. Areas that have always been around are still valuable. They simply require less pondering.

Currently, one thing has my focus. She's on my brain constantly.

And for the first time I can really say I'm OK with that.

Do what feels right

It's rare I write my blog in first person. A much more powerful message is conveyed when no personal pronouns are used.

However, the occasional post demands my personal interest. I'll blame Tim for this particular occasion, because his most recent post got me to thinking.

Happiness is really what you make it. Sadness as well.

Where is this post going...I have no idea. I'm quite happy with life these days, all things considered. Go read Tim's post, it's saying things better.

Words no one should ever say. Ever

Had a minimum of three words on this list. Time to speak intelligently.

Ponder

Certain situations are made for thinking. Some more suited than others. Cascading water, a fresh rainfall or warm shower is terrific. The rhythmic pounding of droplets against bare skin tunes you. Washing the body while flooding the mind. Thoughts flow.

A thinking cap may be sitting on the pot. Maybe long drives. Silently laying in the grass. Reading. Each one, the mind is the focus. Physical requirements are low, extremities at a rest synapses are firing.

Whatever it might be the search for a way to ponder is half the journey. To find a place where muscles are turned off the thought throttle is at full. Once it's found the mind syncs with the body and the spirit roams free. That moment is golden.

You simply float.

Simmer

Patience, it has been said, is a virtue.

The ability to wait. Detachment from desire, from a pressing interest to have results. An overarching disinterest in having an answer to your questions.

A virtue. An admirable quality. How is a lack of passion for life a desirable quality? When was a consensus reached that society should value the emotionally detached. Is a distaste for others love for us next?

I can be patient. I can wait for results, until they suddenly present themselves. Can, but rarely will. I've reserved myself to quiet anticipation. Silent turmoil.

I want this resolved, and there is not a thing to be done until Friday. Until then, I'll be here, internal, a maelstrom.

Get a job, man

Being money driven can be a dangerous thing. Such a monetary object doesn't last forever. He who has the most toys, dies surrounded by expensive shit.

Friends. Family. Wisdom. This is where values lies, where a man's worth can be measured. Time is the currency we should save, should invest in.

My accounts are diversified, stable, and well funded. Splurge on me, and I'll write you a fat check.

Second Guess

Or third.

Why am I so sure of a decision, until I make it?

Power Hour

Can something profound be written in 7 minutes?

If these walls would speak, they would not. Silent observers from day one, how might the surroundings of a room suddenly encapsulate all they have seen. No one word, nor novel might paint the pictures of all that has been.

What of humans then, who've been here for so many years. Surely more mobile then the walls, that which keeps out the cold. How can one individual, describe all that has been witnessed, lived, experienced? Is living enough?

Can something profound be written?

Precipitation

Rain is perfection. An automatic feeling of dreary and darkness. A distinct smell, a powerful cleansing thing.

When the rain comes, there is a choice to be made. Stay in, waste the day away, and enjoy the calm? Or walk into the din, get soaked to the bone. Wash the soul clean of dirt and dust.

Snow, is too cheery. Flighty, in a sense. Snow does not know what sort of mood it wants to create. On a warm day, it would be the hard sell of rain. Today, it's a cold, wistful fluttering. Sun reflects, bringing brightness to the day, not the cool dull colors that accompany rain. Colors are not washed away, they are highlighted, enhanced.

On days like today, I shut the blinds, and turn out the lights. Hoping, that someday soon, the day will warm, and the sky will fall heavy again, it's anger and passion dousing my mood.

Die young and save yourself

I have a lot of notebooks.

Moleskine brand mostly. My current total, is 6.

I've been neglecting them. The first one, I've had for nearly 4 years, and I'm not even a tenth of the way into it.

It's served many functions. Notes, musings, sketches. Not ever one thing for long. Yet, it's growing. It's become an outlet. Things I find too deep to blog about, too silly, they go there. I write daily now.

Poetry is making a return to. Seems in the past, I would write in hopes people might read it, a way for me to reach out. Now, it's because I have something that only translates from my mind in verse. As if my thoughts organized themselves in stanzas.

For someone who hates writing, I'm sure doing it an awful lot.

I'm gonna buy this place, and start a fire.

No man is an island.

No matter how hard you try, human contact is far to important.

As much as you can pretend you don't care what people think, there is not much else people can do for you.

So, lean.

McConnell Hall Dances-Snow Ball

Black Betty
Half the girls

The Garden
The other half of the girls

Cupid's Chokehold
The men, featuring yours truly.

Snow Ball

An all around terrific evening

Open Wounds

A friend of mine shot me a text tonight. Sick of dealing with drama, stressing about school, and generally drained of life, they had a plea:

I'm not mad, more stressed. Like I feel like I don't what to do this bullshit anymore and I sort of want to scream. Any recommendations for that?

The cry was for help. For healing. For a fix.

For music.

What song, did I have, that would switch their mood? What combination of lyrics, guitar riffs and drum patterns would be able to switch a heavy heart, back to its soft interior?

A list began to form. Art work flowed past me, emotions were relived as each song ticked by. Something heavy. No no, something mellow. Certainly not something about love. Ten songs. Pick six screamed to be the one to fix things.

It was not pick six. It was the gut feeling pick, pick one.

What is it about music, that connects us? How can one persons contempt for life be quelled by another listener's desire to help them?

We are connected by infinitely misunderstood forces.

Sleepers can't just wake the dead

People buring their dead

The complexity of life is terrific. Very few things go the path that is expected. Down is up, up is sideways. The trick is to not decide where it's going to go. Don't expect the unexpected to suddenly materialize. As Queens of the Stone Age say, Go, with the flow.

I'm learning to let go. Even things in sphere two, are breaking loose. The chance things won't go how I predict them is exhilarating.

My love life, is the epitome of that right now. Just getting to know my female friends, and the fact it simply might stay at that level, is terrific. Man-whoredom is truly broken, when you stop thinking of girls as date-able, and start seeing them as what they are.

Friends.

Don't you wish your life could be as simple
as fish swimming round in a barrel when you've got the gun

Piggy Bank

This week promises to be long. Difficult, and possibly uphill.

The argument can be made, that when things are hard, you see what people really are. How humans cope with stress and hardship, is how they really are.

Not entirely sure I buy that anymore. Tough times are a lot of things you can't control, and that brings out a different side of people. Having to go with the flow, and hope things turn out in a positive manner, can be rough. Surely you can't define who a person is, at a time when they have such little control.

Hold on tight
Wrap your arms around me, till your knuckles are burnin white

Layer Tennis

One artist creates something, then another adds to it, and back and forth they go. Pretty amazing to see what these people create in each 15 minutes volley.

Morning Tide

I've never considered myself a morning person. I really, really enjoy my sleep.

Yet, something about the morning is so refreshing. Not everyone is awake yet. The world has not begun to operate. It's easier to find a shower, a parking space. Lines for freshly made food are shorter.

My favorite part though, is the complete lack of being tired. Once you surmount that initial wake up hump, and are rolling towards the day, you just can't be tired. Afternoons are hard, because you have the post lunch grogginess. Post dinner, is just to close to bed for you to be a functioning member of society. Breakfast, energizes. You eat, and are stoked. You pay attention, have fresher ideas, a more positive outlook.

I think I've become a morning person. And the social stigma surrounding that, is because you hoodlums need naps to make it through your day.

Puppy Love

There is no companionship that equals that of a man and his dog. A dog loves, unconditionally.

Nothing beats that feeling, of coming home and having a dog run to greet you. That jump and heavy wet breath that has been longing to be in your face all day.

Everyone should have a dog. Fuck cats.

Get It On

Ten minutes of laughter. 5 more with outtakes.

Beautiful, Talented, Smart Ass

What a terrifically dangerous combination.

Seen Here, More Talent then I will ever possess.

Bravo gents!

Negativity

Complaining, really yanks my chain. I suppose in so saying that, I am in fact complaining.

Yet life is so good, and we as American's have so much going for us, why do so many feel the need to appreciate so little?

Mac: Announcing things in epic fashion since, a while.

New 17" MBP, updates to iLife/iWork, but my very favorite part:

DRM FREE iTUNES.

We Are Sleeping Giants


Terrific photo essay by Brooks Reynolds

Billy says No

If this investigation in question really turns up nothing, a very classy move by the Governor.

Twenty

Today, 109 years ago, The New York Times created the word automobile. 1947 saw the first televised proceedings of the U.S. Congress. Alaska officially became a state 49 years ago. 20 years ago today, I was born.

Alongside J.R.R. Tolkien, and Eli Manning, I watch another year tick by.

It would seem that this would be an ideal time to say something clever, impart some words of wisdom, or create a modern proverb based on my time on earth.

The only thing I know for sure, is that life always goes on. No matter how hard things are, eventually those things become your past. The key to making it in this world, is to make sure the future is better than the past.

A buddy of mine certainly put it best; "Life is choices, with a bit of luck"

Thanks to all the friends, family, and acquaintances who have made year twenty so great. It is because of all of you, that I've made it as far as I have. I certainly am glad you'll all be here as I move forward, with the next twenty.

Dear Bernie

Serves him right.