I had a Skype interview today! I applied for a job as a camp counselor at Nashoba North in Raymond, Maine. They have cross-country and lots of disc sports, but they have a big need in the climbing department. Can you imagine it? Me, climbing everyday and teaching the kiddies how to do it safely and effectively? Man that would be totally awesome. I'm looking forward to the opportunity already and I haven't even been offered the position!
I think the interview went pretty well. The interviewer talked about a typical day in the life of a counselor and even mentioned the salary. He has dispatched a few others to call me and chat as well, and he's even going to go contact my references. Sounds pretty promising I'd have to say! I don't think he'd go through all that trouble for somebody he has a passing fancy on. Summer camp counselor...what an amazing way to spend my time!
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Katniss And Mr. Darcy
I usually don't make a habit of hating literary characters. They are, after all, whatever I decide to make them into. At the end of the day they are merely figments of my imagination. They do not exist. There is nothing tangible to despise. Sometimes, however, these make-believe characters can add fuel to my fire and burn me in ways that I hitherto thought impossible. Case in point: Katniss Everdeen from The Hunger Games and Mr. Darcy from Pride and Prejudice.
Ever since I first read about Mr. Darcy's exploits with the Bennet sisters, I've hated him. Maybe it has something to do with the fact all the women in my class (and trust me there were many) swooned over him. They thought he was the greatest creation God had ever bestowed upon the earth (or something like that). He could seemingly do no wrong. He cared immeasurably about Elizabeth and Jane and the rest. He would do anything to show his love. I, on the other hand, saw him as pompous and self-serving. When he wanted a break from Elizabeth, he ran off to increase her longing. He paid for Lydia's wedding not because he was brutally kind but because he knew it'd make Elizabeth look upon him favorably. Everything that he did was calculated to make Elizabeth fall in love with him. He knew that if SHE did the falling, HE would have the control in the relationship. When it finally happened, and she thought him the most dapper gentleman in the world, the conniving little weasel had succeeded. He had fulfilled his personal needs at the expense of Elizabeth. Or so I've always thought.
And that's when we come to Katniss. Very similar. Willing to use those closest to her to get what she wants. When it was most beneficial to her to kiss Peeta, she'd kiss Peeta. When she was lonely and knew that Gale would wash that loneliness away, she'd kiss Gale. When she wanted to condemn killing to appear gentle, she would. When she decided a bit of murder would satisfy her need for bloodlust, she'd take out a few bodies. When she wanted to end her life to "save" the nation of Panem, it was, once again, out of complete selfishness. She didn't want to live anymore with the guilt. She alone had caused so much pain because she couldn't control her thoughts, couldn't control her outbursts, couldn't control her emotions, that there was nothing left to do but die. She didn't want to live anymore with the pain. Isn't that the ultimate selfishness? Make everyone else suffer for the pain and anguish that she had unleashed? She, like Mr. Darcy, played entirely by her own (self-serving) rules and parlayed it into a supportive following.
Am I cynical here? Are these actually nice characters with only redeeming traits? Am I creating some sort of facade because I'm jealous? I don't think so. What really bums me out is that these characters are so real. They could be you or me. These are standard human emotions. We, by nature, want to get ahead in life. We are inherently power hungry and typically will use others to achieve our aims. Katniss and Mr. Darcy were no different. That's what shakes me. They are such plausible creations, and yet so deplorable. Perhaps what really gets me is that humans as a whole must be like this. I must be like this, ready to throw others by the wayside so that I may be successful. What's even more jarring is that I don't even know it...
Ever since I first read about Mr. Darcy's exploits with the Bennet sisters, I've hated him. Maybe it has something to do with the fact all the women in my class (and trust me there were many) swooned over him. They thought he was the greatest creation God had ever bestowed upon the earth (or something like that). He could seemingly do no wrong. He cared immeasurably about Elizabeth and Jane and the rest. He would do anything to show his love. I, on the other hand, saw him as pompous and self-serving. When he wanted a break from Elizabeth, he ran off to increase her longing. He paid for Lydia's wedding not because he was brutally kind but because he knew it'd make Elizabeth look upon him favorably. Everything that he did was calculated to make Elizabeth fall in love with him. He knew that if SHE did the falling, HE would have the control in the relationship. When it finally happened, and she thought him the most dapper gentleman in the world, the conniving little weasel had succeeded. He had fulfilled his personal needs at the expense of Elizabeth. Or so I've always thought.
And that's when we come to Katniss. Very similar. Willing to use those closest to her to get what she wants. When it was most beneficial to her to kiss Peeta, she'd kiss Peeta. When she was lonely and knew that Gale would wash that loneliness away, she'd kiss Gale. When she wanted to condemn killing to appear gentle, she would. When she decided a bit of murder would satisfy her need for bloodlust, she'd take out a few bodies. When she wanted to end her life to "save" the nation of Panem, it was, once again, out of complete selfishness. She didn't want to live anymore with the guilt. She alone had caused so much pain because she couldn't control her thoughts, couldn't control her outbursts, couldn't control her emotions, that there was nothing left to do but die. She didn't want to live anymore with the pain. Isn't that the ultimate selfishness? Make everyone else suffer for the pain and anguish that she had unleashed? She, like Mr. Darcy, played entirely by her own (self-serving) rules and parlayed it into a supportive following.
Am I cynical here? Are these actually nice characters with only redeeming traits? Am I creating some sort of facade because I'm jealous? I don't think so. What really bums me out is that these characters are so real. They could be you or me. These are standard human emotions. We, by nature, want to get ahead in life. We are inherently power hungry and typically will use others to achieve our aims. Katniss and Mr. Darcy were no different. That's what shakes me. They are such plausible creations, and yet so deplorable. Perhaps what really gets me is that humans as a whole must be like this. I must be like this, ready to throw others by the wayside so that I may be successful. What's even more jarring is that I don't even know it...
Monday, January 28, 2013
Snow Day
What a pleasant surprise! Today was my first snowday as a real teacher! It was so amazing, and yet here it is...9 p.m. It's already over. What did I do today? It feels like such a waste. It was incredible and refreshing, but I can't help but thinking I didn't do enough to celebrate. Have you seen the movie Snow Day? In the film, a group of kids have the most epic snowday ever, following around the snowplow man as he attempts to clear the streets. They were trying to prevent him from shoveling the streets so that they could have a two-fer. They accomplished so much. Did I do something equally great? I don't really think so. Ugh. I finished Mockingjay. That's cool, right? I went on a run. That's good, eh? Hmm...I just wish that I was a kid again. I'd know what to do with those snowdays. I just need another chance!!
The Second Semester...A Look Back And A Look Ahead
The second semester begins tomorrow. I'm not too thrilled. I've really come to enjoy the students that I had in the first semester and I'm not stoked for the change-up. These students could be miscreants or jerks or clowns or criminals or a host of other things. On the outside at least. On the inside they could be hurting. I need patience this semester.
20 weeks ago I began my teaching journey. I've made some incredible friends on the staff. I've learned a lot about teaching and lesson planning and discipline and consistency and a whole slew of other things. I've developed a routine, something that makes me feel super old. But lately one thought keeps coming back to me: What if I had taken that job in Kansas? Why didn't I? Would I be happier?
It's been 20 weeks, and I've finally come to realize that things are not going to be how I expected them to be. I've gone through ups and downs and ins and outs to figure this out, but I got there. And I'm starting to think about the what ifs. Is this good?
I'm committed to Madison. This much is for sure. But I can't help but wonder...
I think about the future. Was it a mistake for me to be here in Michigan? If I let it manifest itself that way I suppose. So that's the future bit. I can't let it become a mistake again. I need to think ahead, analyze everything. The future is a constant opportunity to fix the past...
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Mistakes
A mistake is usually a regret. But what makes up a regret? Can't we choose which things we want to be regrets? A regret is what we make of it. It can be a learning experience, a harrowing nightmare, a time of despair, or, with the right eyes, a time of hope. Hope for what can come next. A hope for the renaissance, the rebirth, the phoenix rising from the ashes. Sometimes, nay oftentimes, mistakes bring out the best in us. Those mistakes can manifest themselves into regrets, or they can build us up into stronger and more powerfully intellectual beings. It's a conscious choice. Even though it doesn't always seem that way. We can make that choice. That's the time when we need to stand firm. Think slow. Respond slower. Learn. Grow. It's not easy. It's really hard. It sucks. It's worth it?
A Bit More About Detroit
It's just that I'm bummed out about this sense of entitlement that seems to be permeating this city. The people of Detroit cry out for more services, more opportunities, more jobs, more tax breaks, and then recoit at the thought of having to pay for things themselves. "Let the corporations and the rich fat cats for us. They don't need all that money," they cry. There are a few fundamental problems, however, with that sort of outlook...
Whose job is it to tell how much money is too much? Is there a set line? Isn't it some sort of discrimination to punish the people who have money, just because they have money? Let's say that I make $100,000 a year. Is that too much? Well, if I went to college and advanced in my career and worked hard in my schooling and my occupational life, then it's not too much. Right? If I'm the one earning it, I doubt that I would ever say that it's too much. And I'll be damned if someone else tells me that I make too much. Right? What am I missing here? If I'm making $100k and Joe Schmo is making $20k, why is it alright for him to chastise me for being "rich" in a relative sense? Isn't it a form of jealousy run amok? The amount of money that I have should be a) my own personal business and 2) to be dispensed with how I decide. I don't see why anyone could really take umbrage with this.
But here's the thing I can't stand about Detroit. These unions claim that they want people to care for them. They think it's so terrible that their wages are being cut while the owners make so much money. What these unions fail to understand is that the owners giving back some of their earnings will have an extremely minimal effect on the total income of the union workers. There are millions of blue-collar workers and only a handful of owners. The money is actually not very substantial.
The other thing to think about is the entitlement again. Why do they feel that they are entitled to a higher wage? Jobs are a privilege, not a right. You're not forced to work, and you're certainly not forced to work at the same place for life. If something is rubbing you the wrong way (lower wages, reduced benefits, etc.) then walk away. There will be someone to replace you. The new worker will not be so selective and will accept the "insulting" wage offers. And the reason that there was someone there to replace that worker is because these are low-level jobs. They require no specialized training or education. Anybody can do the work. So why are they being rewarded for something that anyone can do? I mean, I see the socialist view and that may be the overarching goal to begin with, but that doesn't mean that it's right, or even effective.
And then all these calls for improved infrastructure and more services and more this and more that. Where is that money coming from? The people who use these items the most (busses, museums, etc.) constantly complain that their taxes are too high and that they can't live. First, downgrade the lifestyle if your ways outgain your means. Second, these public services are not free. We can't sit back and expect the government or the corporations or anybody else to pay for the things that we use. One of the biggest examples of this that I saw in the documentary was about the Detroit Opera House. They are funded by 70% "Big Three" money and 30% smaller individuals/businesses. These "fat cats" are already keeping alive an important artistic aspect of the city for the benefit of the residents, and yet it's not enough. Money is not a renewable resource! There is a limit to how much can be spent. And yet it seems like a large amount of Detroiters do not understand this. They're in a rut and, like Sisyphus, keep trying to do roll out of it the same way every time. It doesn't work like that...
Whose job is it to tell how much money is too much? Is there a set line? Isn't it some sort of discrimination to punish the people who have money, just because they have money? Let's say that I make $100,000 a year. Is that too much? Well, if I went to college and advanced in my career and worked hard in my schooling and my occupational life, then it's not too much. Right? If I'm the one earning it, I doubt that I would ever say that it's too much. And I'll be damned if someone else tells me that I make too much. Right? What am I missing here? If I'm making $100k and Joe Schmo is making $20k, why is it alright for him to chastise me for being "rich" in a relative sense? Isn't it a form of jealousy run amok? The amount of money that I have should be a) my own personal business and 2) to be dispensed with how I decide. I don't see why anyone could really take umbrage with this.
But here's the thing I can't stand about Detroit. These unions claim that they want people to care for them. They think it's so terrible that their wages are being cut while the owners make so much money. What these unions fail to understand is that the owners giving back some of their earnings will have an extremely minimal effect on the total income of the union workers. There are millions of blue-collar workers and only a handful of owners. The money is actually not very substantial.
The other thing to think about is the entitlement again. Why do they feel that they are entitled to a higher wage? Jobs are a privilege, not a right. You're not forced to work, and you're certainly not forced to work at the same place for life. If something is rubbing you the wrong way (lower wages, reduced benefits, etc.) then walk away. There will be someone to replace you. The new worker will not be so selective and will accept the "insulting" wage offers. And the reason that there was someone there to replace that worker is because these are low-level jobs. They require no specialized training or education. Anybody can do the work. So why are they being rewarded for something that anyone can do? I mean, I see the socialist view and that may be the overarching goal to begin with, but that doesn't mean that it's right, or even effective.
And then all these calls for improved infrastructure and more services and more this and more that. Where is that money coming from? The people who use these items the most (busses, museums, etc.) constantly complain that their taxes are too high and that they can't live. First, downgrade the lifestyle if your ways outgain your means. Second, these public services are not free. We can't sit back and expect the government or the corporations or anybody else to pay for the things that we use. One of the biggest examples of this that I saw in the documentary was about the Detroit Opera House. They are funded by 70% "Big Three" money and 30% smaller individuals/businesses. These "fat cats" are already keeping alive an important artistic aspect of the city for the benefit of the residents, and yet it's not enough. Money is not a renewable resource! There is a limit to how much can be spent. And yet it seems like a large amount of Detroiters do not understand this. They're in a rut and, like Sisyphus, keep trying to do roll out of it the same way every time. It doesn't work like that...
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
A Few Lines About Detroit
Just saw an interesting documentary about Detroit. When I say interesting, I of course mean played-out. Whenever people want to talk about Detroit, it's always about the great rise, the sudden crash, and the supposed rebirth of the city. But that's not what's happening. It's idealistic. Detroit is not coming alive. The city has problems, and we're fixing them up with the same spackling that's been thrown out there for decades. It won't work because it hasn't worked. Instead of thinking about how good it was so long ago and itching to return to the former glory, we need to change. We need to diversify and become something new. Sitting around and being stubborn it not effective. It's the same old story, told with a different voice. The unions demand more when there is no more. The citizens want more when there's nothing left to give. And we come up with viable solutions, we spit in the decision makers' faces. It's a disgusting cycle that is leading to ruin...nay, has led to ruin.
Detroit is not coming back. There are regions, yes, that are seeing a renewal. But artistic installations will not pay the bills. We need radicalization.
Detroit is not coming back. There are regions, yes, that are seeing a renewal. But artistic installations will not pay the bills. We need radicalization.
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Driving Around
I had an absolutely tremendous weekend. But I was struck by one hour...
Have you ever driven around, sun shining in, the lane covered by trees, music coursing through your body? I felt alive. I felt like my wanderlust had, only for a moment, been completely fulfilled. I had reached that pinnacle. All I wanted to do was to continue driving for hours. I didn't need a direction. I had my thoughts and my songs and my future ahead of me. It was both perilous and comfortable. It was dangerous and ill-informed, and yet the best decision I had made in a long time. I got to that infinite feeling. I knew what it meant, again.
That infinite feelings creeps up every now and again, serving to remind me that life is to be savored. Live how you want, according to your own rules.
My rules had me driving around.
Have you ever driven around, sun shining in, the lane covered by trees, music coursing through your body? I felt alive. I felt like my wanderlust had, only for a moment, been completely fulfilled. I had reached that pinnacle. All I wanted to do was to continue driving for hours. I didn't need a direction. I had my thoughts and my songs and my future ahead of me. It was both perilous and comfortable. It was dangerous and ill-informed, and yet the best decision I had made in a long time. I got to that infinite feeling. I knew what it meant, again.
That infinite feelings creeps up every now and again, serving to remind me that life is to be savored. Live how you want, according to your own rules.
My rules had me driving around.
Martin Luther King, Jr.
I was talking with my students today about Dr. King. We celebrated his birthday yesterday. As a country, we watched President Obama channel his inner King during his second inauguration. Obviously Dr. King is an incredibly influential figure, almost single-handedly laying the tracks for Obama to be in the position that he is. Sometimes, however, we remember him how the media wants us to.
Dr. King's biggest moment came during the "I Have A Dream" in Washington in August, 1963. The Civil Rights Act was passed in 1964, thereby fulfilling what seemed to be King's main aim. As far as the history books are concerned, we don't really hear about him again until his assassination in 1968. Why?
I didn't learn until college that during the last few years of his life, Dr. King was campaigning on behalf of the poor and downtrodden. He'd achieved some form of equality for blacks and had shifted his sights to those who had been ignored for centuries. He advocated a form of socialism in which the rich were obligated to bring up the poorer folks as a both a gift and a duty. He really was one of the biggest proponents of equality and believed in it so fervently that he would give up some of his own rights to support others.
But why haven't we really heard about all this? I'd have to say it has a lot to do with the general feeling about socialism at the time. We were still in the middle of the Cold War and socialism was an ugly buzzword that got people fired and sent to prison. People were hesitant to support such a radical policy.
I'd say that Dr. King just got a little too far ahead for his time. As much as socialism was abhorred 40 years ago, it is embraced today. One only needs to see the big hullabaloo about the 99% or nationalized healthcare. The poorer are finally starting to mobilize. King was just a couple decades early...
I'm not saying this is all a good thing or a bad thing. Just an observation. And not even a very well spelled out one.
Dr. King's biggest moment came during the "I Have A Dream" in Washington in August, 1963. The Civil Rights Act was passed in 1964, thereby fulfilling what seemed to be King's main aim. As far as the history books are concerned, we don't really hear about him again until his assassination in 1968. Why?
I didn't learn until college that during the last few years of his life, Dr. King was campaigning on behalf of the poor and downtrodden. He'd achieved some form of equality for blacks and had shifted his sights to those who had been ignored for centuries. He advocated a form of socialism in which the rich were obligated to bring up the poorer folks as a both a gift and a duty. He really was one of the biggest proponents of equality and believed in it so fervently that he would give up some of his own rights to support others.
But why haven't we really heard about all this? I'd have to say it has a lot to do with the general feeling about socialism at the time. We were still in the middle of the Cold War and socialism was an ugly buzzword that got people fired and sent to prison. People were hesitant to support such a radical policy.
I'd say that Dr. King just got a little too far ahead for his time. As much as socialism was abhorred 40 years ago, it is embraced today. One only needs to see the big hullabaloo about the 99% or nationalized healthcare. The poorer are finally starting to mobilize. King was just a couple decades early...
I'm not saying this is all a good thing or a bad thing. Just an observation. And not even a very well spelled out one.
Falling Back
I'm so far behind the times right now. I was so pumped at the beginning of the weekend to just chill and relax and recover that I became too accustomed and neglected to return to my original glory. Hopefully it's just a bump in the road.
But here's another thing. Forming a habit means that something has become a part of your life. It is done with little thought and is almost a piece of you. It can be difficult to form habits, but they usually remain with you for a bit if you're dedicated. Other times, however, that habit can slip away if you're not careful. Is that what's going on here? I hope not...I'm not even halfway yet! Let's keep going!
But here's another thing. Forming a habit means that something has become a part of your life. It is done with little thought and is almost a piece of you. It can be difficult to form habits, but they usually remain with you for a bit if you're dedicated. Other times, however, that habit can slip away if you're not careful. Is that what's going on here? I hope not...I'm not even halfway yet! Let's keep going!
Friday, January 18, 2013
Relaxation
Hopefully I will add bit more during this long weekend, but I'm pretty darn exhaused. It's time to just rest for a bit. I'll return tomorrow.
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Ugh...
This Lance Armstrong and Manti Te'o stuff saddens me. I don't really know what else to think. I just want some positivity from the media. I don't need cynicism and prying eyes to dig deeper. It's a vicious circle. First they make you a prince, then you are a pauper. Sigh...
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Irv Blitzer
I was driving home today and, for some reason or another, started thinking about Cool Runnings. I thought about Coach Blitzer's hunger for the gold medal. He wanted it so much that he hid weights in the front of his bobsled to make it go faster. He won the gold, but at great cost. He had worked his whole life toward that end. Everything he'd ever done had been for Olympic glory. It wasn't until after he had his medal stripped away did he figure life out...
"If you're not enough without it, you'll never be enough with it."
"If you're not enough without it, you'll never be enough with it."
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
Change
We've all made transactions. Whenever you pay with a little more cash than was required, you receive change. We're very keen on the dollar bills. They fold well and fit nicely into our wallets. We're even more excited about $5 and $10 bills, or even $20! They make us feel rich and, to some extent, powerful. Even when we make a purchase, it's comforting to know that we still have some money left over.
Then there's the coinage. Quarters are useful. They go into parking meters and pop machines and can readily purchase a Hot N' Ready with little gathering effort. I suppose nickels and dimes do their part as well, but I could just as soon live it without them. It almost goes without saying that pennies are useless, piece of copper with the sole purpose of filling my pockets, change drawers, and couches.
Sometimes we want our change. We love it. We embrace it. We move on with a smile and something new. Other times we're a bit indifferent. If I were shorted a few nickels or dimes, I wouldn't make a fuss. A few small coins here and there will eventually even out. And when it comes to pennies, I'd just as soon toss them asunder. I'd consider them bad change, the bane of my currency-spending existence.
Isn't it like this with real change as well? Some is good and we want it. Some is just...whatever. We accept and go. And other times it's like pulling teeth. We don't want it. But it keeps coming to us.
Then there's the coinage. Quarters are useful. They go into parking meters and pop machines and can readily purchase a Hot N' Ready with little gathering effort. I suppose nickels and dimes do their part as well, but I could just as soon live it without them. It almost goes without saying that pennies are useless, piece of copper with the sole purpose of filling my pockets, change drawers, and couches.
Sometimes we want our change. We love it. We embrace it. We move on with a smile and something new. Other times we're a bit indifferent. If I were shorted a few nickels or dimes, I wouldn't make a fuss. A few small coins here and there will eventually even out. And when it comes to pennies, I'd just as soon toss them asunder. I'd consider them bad change, the bane of my currency-spending existence.
Isn't it like this with real change as well? Some is good and we want it. Some is just...whatever. We accept and go. And other times it's like pulling teeth. We don't want it. But it keeps coming to us.
Monday, January 14, 2013
Feeling Infinite
This is the first part of two planned installments about that infinite feeling. When you are atop a mountain, no other humans visible, gazing out at the crisp and clear lakes and the other peaks in every direction in the distance. When you are at the bottom of a canyon, looking up and noticing rock on all sides. When the road stretches onward in front of you forever.
How do we feel infinite? It means something different to everybody. To some, there are multiple ways. College was one of those times. We feel immovable and unstoppable. The world is in the palm of our hands. We can choose to do anything, go anywhere, become anyone. There are so many avenues for us to venture down. The possibilities are endless.
There are those moments when everything clicks. Long drives. Fields on either side, the sun setting, cliffs waiting to be scrambled on, music blaring, singing at the top of your lungs. Or resting in a tent exchanging pillow talk with your closest friends. No holds barred. Completely baring the soul.
Those times when you are holding the person you care most about. It's late, but you don't want to go to sleep because when you wake up it'll be over. It's like a dream that becomes wisps of memory when the dawn breaks. You want to do everything you can to make it go on forever, that feeling of closeness and love and, yes, infiniteness. But it can't.
Sometimes we don't know about it until it's gone. It's only after the fact that we find out that those were the times when we truly endless. We had so much potential. We keep looking beyond and miss the present.
Feeling infinite. It might only be a fleeting emotion. Grab it.
How do we feel infinite? It means something different to everybody. To some, there are multiple ways. College was one of those times. We feel immovable and unstoppable. The world is in the palm of our hands. We can choose to do anything, go anywhere, become anyone. There are so many avenues for us to venture down. The possibilities are endless.
There are those moments when everything clicks. Long drives. Fields on either side, the sun setting, cliffs waiting to be scrambled on, music blaring, singing at the top of your lungs. Or resting in a tent exchanging pillow talk with your closest friends. No holds barred. Completely baring the soul.
Those times when you are holding the person you care most about. It's late, but you don't want to go to sleep because when you wake up it'll be over. It's like a dream that becomes wisps of memory when the dawn breaks. You want to do everything you can to make it go on forever, that feeling of closeness and love and, yes, infiniteness. But it can't.
Sometimes we don't know about it until it's gone. It's only after the fact that we find out that those were the times when we truly endless. We had so much potential. We keep looking beyond and miss the present.
Feeling infinite. It might only be a fleeting emotion. Grab it.
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Lying, Sports, And The Morality Game
Everytime I go to ESPN.com, I see the headline for the report that Lance Armstrong is going to admit steroid use to Oprah. This comes a few days after the Baseball Hall of Fame pitched a shutout by not voting in any of a deserving number of players because they were linked to performance enhancing drugs. Combine that with the countless stories of abuse (Penn State), recruiting faux pas (USC), and player safety as a result of concussions (Junior Seau and the NFL), it seems that sports in 2013 have gone away from the pure entertainment getaways they used to be. They've become saturated with the vagaries of the world, the very things that sports was created to distract from. Why?
There are a few potential reasons as to why sports has stumbled down this dark path. One has to do with the ESPN and the 24-hour news cycle. ESPN was started in 1979 as the first all-sports, all-the-time network. As such, they needed to fill a full day's worth of programming. This necessitated hiring extra reporters, creating new shows to fill niches, and a complete devotion to the world of sport. It wasn't enough to replay bowling tournaments and America's Cup races; ESPN needed to create a flagship and cross it with a refined business model in order to succeed. It was out of necessity for survival that ESPN became what it became. After the introduction and development of SportsCenter into that flagship, the rest of the dominoes began to fall into place. What this meant, however, was that, again, ESPN needed to fill the programming. Not content to maintain the status quo, ESPN began working on groundbreaking stories and shows, attempting to bring the common viewer into the wide world of sports. There was no longer a veil between the average Joe and the Michael Jordan; fans began getting an unlimited access. This was, initially, very good.
ESPN made a lot of money. As with any successful business model, mimicry ensued. Sports Illustrated launched its website, creating a need for enhanced coverage. Yahoo! Sports began operations, trying to create an alternative to the big boys. Myriad other examples of start-ups and competition meant that ESPN would have to continue digging deeper if it wanted to further cement its position as the purported "Worldwide Leader in Sports." Eventually, sports scores and interviews and locker room conversations about gameday superstitions weren't enough.
The evening news makes a killing on stories of murder, robberies, and general criminal activity. For some reason, through some bizarre market research, it was discovered that these stories bring in the ratings and fill the coffers of the television executives. People, it was learned, apparently have an insatiable desire for justice. They want to see people do wrong and earn their comeuppance. Gone were the stories of "pay it forward" and "helping the elderly." In its place, people were greeted by the "Beltway Sniper" and "Ex-Presidents" and, yes, "Steroids."
There is another alarming truth to look at here. As a result of all the horror and violence on the news, people have instinctively yearned for the days of yore, believing them to be more moral and a generally gentler era to grow up in. In those days, people didn't kill or rape or steal with nearly as much consistency as they do now. The sports stars were clean and a subset of individuals to be idealized and idolized. It is here that we meet a crossroads.
ESPN needed programming to maintain its perch at the top of the sports world. The evening news had made a business of propogating violence. ESPN (and other sports news sites and stations - this is not just ESPN's creation) saw a chance to build up its brand even further. They began showing the sports world not as an idyllic landscape, but as a post-apocalyptic criminal arena not unlike the real world. When before it was feel-good stories like home-run records falling, cancer comebacks, Heisman trophy celebrations, and electric two-way quarterbacks, the stories devolved into tales of steroid needles in every butt, blood manipulation in the name of personal fame, illegal dollars, and dogfighting rings. And it didn't end. Big hits were once celebrated; they are now considered disgusting and morally objectionable. Kobe in Colorado. Lockouts. Bountygate. Tiger Woods. I could go on forever baby.
ESPN saw a need and filled it. They should certainly be lauded by giving the people what they want. But the question remains: Why do we want this? Sports is meant to be an escape. We spend our days on the line, in the office, in the classroom. We come home and enter a world of glitz and glamor and entertainment. Dingers and dunks, touchdowns and throwdowns. Sports stars were different than us because we wanted them to be. And now? We feel like justice is served when it's revealed they did something to gain an edge, when it's proven they are not immune. We have become a society that's into lose-lose situations, instead of win-win. We've fallen into negativity and anger. Nothing can be taken at face value anymore. It is reported, overreported, sifted through, reimagined, and debunked until the hero has become the villain, and vice versa.
I pine for the days of innocence and ignorance. It was bliss.
There are a few potential reasons as to why sports has stumbled down this dark path. One has to do with the ESPN and the 24-hour news cycle. ESPN was started in 1979 as the first all-sports, all-the-time network. As such, they needed to fill a full day's worth of programming. This necessitated hiring extra reporters, creating new shows to fill niches, and a complete devotion to the world of sport. It wasn't enough to replay bowling tournaments and America's Cup races; ESPN needed to create a flagship and cross it with a refined business model in order to succeed. It was out of necessity for survival that ESPN became what it became. After the introduction and development of SportsCenter into that flagship, the rest of the dominoes began to fall into place. What this meant, however, was that, again, ESPN needed to fill the programming. Not content to maintain the status quo, ESPN began working on groundbreaking stories and shows, attempting to bring the common viewer into the wide world of sports. There was no longer a veil between the average Joe and the Michael Jordan; fans began getting an unlimited access. This was, initially, very good.
ESPN made a lot of money. As with any successful business model, mimicry ensued. Sports Illustrated launched its website, creating a need for enhanced coverage. Yahoo! Sports began operations, trying to create an alternative to the big boys. Myriad other examples of start-ups and competition meant that ESPN would have to continue digging deeper if it wanted to further cement its position as the purported "Worldwide Leader in Sports." Eventually, sports scores and interviews and locker room conversations about gameday superstitions weren't enough.
The evening news makes a killing on stories of murder, robberies, and general criminal activity. For some reason, through some bizarre market research, it was discovered that these stories bring in the ratings and fill the coffers of the television executives. People, it was learned, apparently have an insatiable desire for justice. They want to see people do wrong and earn their comeuppance. Gone were the stories of "pay it forward" and "helping the elderly." In its place, people were greeted by the "Beltway Sniper" and "Ex-Presidents" and, yes, "Steroids."
There is another alarming truth to look at here. As a result of all the horror and violence on the news, people have instinctively yearned for the days of yore, believing them to be more moral and a generally gentler era to grow up in. In those days, people didn't kill or rape or steal with nearly as much consistency as they do now. The sports stars were clean and a subset of individuals to be idealized and idolized. It is here that we meet a crossroads.
ESPN needed programming to maintain its perch at the top of the sports world. The evening news had made a business of propogating violence. ESPN (and other sports news sites and stations - this is not just ESPN's creation) saw a chance to build up its brand even further. They began showing the sports world not as an idyllic landscape, but as a post-apocalyptic criminal arena not unlike the real world. When before it was feel-good stories like home-run records falling, cancer comebacks, Heisman trophy celebrations, and electric two-way quarterbacks, the stories devolved into tales of steroid needles in every butt, blood manipulation in the name of personal fame, illegal dollars, and dogfighting rings. And it didn't end. Big hits were once celebrated; they are now considered disgusting and morally objectionable. Kobe in Colorado. Lockouts. Bountygate. Tiger Woods. I could go on forever baby.
ESPN saw a need and filled it. They should certainly be lauded by giving the people what they want. But the question remains: Why do we want this? Sports is meant to be an escape. We spend our days on the line, in the office, in the classroom. We come home and enter a world of glitz and glamor and entertainment. Dingers and dunks, touchdowns and throwdowns. Sports stars were different than us because we wanted them to be. And now? We feel like justice is served when it's revealed they did something to gain an edge, when it's proven they are not immune. We have become a society that's into lose-lose situations, instead of win-win. We've fallen into negativity and anger. Nothing can be taken at face value anymore. It is reported, overreported, sifted through, reimagined, and debunked until the hero has become the villain, and vice versa.
I pine for the days of innocence and ignorance. It was bliss.
Saturday, January 12, 2013
The Rocky Horror Picture Show
"Give yourself over to absolute pleasure."
The Rocky Horror Picture Show is considered a seminal film of the 1970s, a landmark for countless generations of fans to enjoy. The movie is about abandoning all pretense and living for the moment. When we think, we overthink, thereby curtailing our opportunities for a worthy life. We fall into the "trap" of marriage, careers, contentment. We lose joy and end up living as drones, repetitiously going through the motions. This is going to happen to Brad and Janet if they're not careful.
Brad and Janet live their lives as society expects. They dated, got engaged, were ready to be wed. They listened to politics on the radio and got mad at people who drive too fast on the roadways. They wear thick glasses and barettes and ugly skivvies that are not intended to be shown off. But that "prudishness" changes upon arrival at Frank's mansion. Within, chaos reigns. Whatever one wanted to do could be done. Sex no longer was a necessity between marrieds, but used as a way of feeling good. One night contained endless possibilities, sexual and otherwise. After some time of debauchery, Brad and Janet become "liberated," as only the 1970s could do. But Frank was not...
At the end of the movie, Frank was taken back to his home planet because "his lifestyle's too extreme." This goes against the very message of the film, in which pleasure and freedom win the day. Frank took too much advantage and was persecuted because of it. When it comes to Brad and Janet, then, this creates a sort of conundrum. They've spent the evening believing that their old way of living was played out. They want to be "freaky." They're ready to give themselves over. But that total giving over results in suffering.
The Rocky Horror Picture Show begins as a treatise for less rules and more free love. It ends as a warning. Too much pleasure can be counterproductive. Or worse. It all comes back to Socrates: moderation in everything.
Who knew we were going to get so philosophical...
The Rocky Horror Picture Show is considered a seminal film of the 1970s, a landmark for countless generations of fans to enjoy. The movie is about abandoning all pretense and living for the moment. When we think, we overthink, thereby curtailing our opportunities for a worthy life. We fall into the "trap" of marriage, careers, contentment. We lose joy and end up living as drones, repetitiously going through the motions. This is going to happen to Brad and Janet if they're not careful.
Brad and Janet live their lives as society expects. They dated, got engaged, were ready to be wed. They listened to politics on the radio and got mad at people who drive too fast on the roadways. They wear thick glasses and barettes and ugly skivvies that are not intended to be shown off. But that "prudishness" changes upon arrival at Frank's mansion. Within, chaos reigns. Whatever one wanted to do could be done. Sex no longer was a necessity between marrieds, but used as a way of feeling good. One night contained endless possibilities, sexual and otherwise. After some time of debauchery, Brad and Janet become "liberated," as only the 1970s could do. But Frank was not...
At the end of the movie, Frank was taken back to his home planet because "his lifestyle's too extreme." This goes against the very message of the film, in which pleasure and freedom win the day. Frank took too much advantage and was persecuted because of it. When it comes to Brad and Janet, then, this creates a sort of conundrum. They've spent the evening believing that their old way of living was played out. They want to be "freaky." They're ready to give themselves over. But that total giving over results in suffering.
The Rocky Horror Picture Show begins as a treatise for less rules and more free love. It ends as a warning. Too much pleasure can be counterproductive. Or worse. It all comes back to Socrates: moderation in everything.
Who knew we were going to get so philosophical...
Friday, January 11, 2013
Summer
I know there's probably a bunch of things I could be writing about that would be more spectacular and entertaining, but I'm going to touch on summer. Lucky you.
I want to work in a summer camp. I love summer, nature, kids, camp food, activities, new relationships, growth, and all of that stereotypical camp stuff. But think back to my identity post. Isn't my summer camp aspiration just a retread of my close friends who have worked at a camp and had a blast? Am I being unique and exciting or am I recycling ideas and blending in so that I can have similar experiences and appear more appealing? Do I want to be more worldly and try new things because I'm wordly and enjoy trying new things, or because I'll look better on the outside to my peers? Does it really matter, since I really do love kids and summer and want to make a difference in my own way? Hard to say.
Wow...I didn't expect things to go in that direction. I guess I'll write my ode to summer on another day. I just wanted to let everyone know that I'm applying at summer camp and I'm stoked. Baseball all summer long? Yes please!
I want to work in a summer camp. I love summer, nature, kids, camp food, activities, new relationships, growth, and all of that stereotypical camp stuff. But think back to my identity post. Isn't my summer camp aspiration just a retread of my close friends who have worked at a camp and had a blast? Am I being unique and exciting or am I recycling ideas and blending in so that I can have similar experiences and appear more appealing? Do I want to be more worldly and try new things because I'm wordly and enjoy trying new things, or because I'll look better on the outside to my peers? Does it really matter, since I really do love kids and summer and want to make a difference in my own way? Hard to say.
Wow...I didn't expect things to go in that direction. I guess I'll write my ode to summer on another day. I just wanted to let everyone know that I'm applying at summer camp and I'm stoked. Baseball all summer long? Yes please!
Identity
I saw Perks of Being A Wallflower at the Brew and View the other day. It was absolutely mind blowing. Super attentive readers will likely note that I also saw Moonrise Kingdom there, a similarly charming movie that made me think and reflect and strive to become a better person. I don't know what it is about that place, but it consistently churns out quality movie experiences.
Without getting into too much plot (or any plot at all actually), I wanted to discuss my takeaways. It was, to me, all about identity. What does it mean to embrace who you truly are? And how do you figure it all out? Does it lie in the pleasure gained from "friendship" or "companionship"? Is it a feeling of excitement in your exploits, or some sort of personal satisfaction? How do you know when you are extracting the most enjoyment out of something or somebody or yourself? Do we, at some point, "settle" in our lives? We aspire to do more, be more, see more, but are instead bound by "comfort" or "stability" or "fear"? Who are we? What is our identity?
One of the biggest issues I've seen, both in my life and personal experiences and through stories, is that we tend to fit our identities to meet the approval of another person (or other people). I think I explored this at some length elsewhere in this space, but it bears repeating. We are social by nature and want to be with people at most times. It's difficult to go through life alone, nay impossible. We pine for human closeness. We have an insatiable urge for others. As such, our identity is malleable. This is not unique to a certain group of people. The popular girl, the nerd, the teacher, the CEO, everybody is trying to fit into the definitions of other people.
When I was watching the movie, I was thinking about my personal identity. I am Ryan, yes, but what else is me? My life is going in a certain direction, but that darn film made me think about all the other directions it would be fun to run in. I guess the most crucial thing to remember about our identities is that they need to be personal, at least some portion of them. We need to accept the fact that we are (subconsciously at the very least) shaped by the attitudes of those around us. But what parts are affected?
I like a certain genre of movies, listen to a certain kind of music, believe in certain principles and values, and have unique ideals. I'd like to think so at least. But they've all been inspired by others through the years. They are constantly being shaped and reformed.
There is no conclusion here, as you can tell by the abrupt way in which I ended. But it's certainly something to think about. Are we happy with our identity? What defines us?
Without getting into too much plot (or any plot at all actually), I wanted to discuss my takeaways. It was, to me, all about identity. What does it mean to embrace who you truly are? And how do you figure it all out? Does it lie in the pleasure gained from "friendship" or "companionship"? Is it a feeling of excitement in your exploits, or some sort of personal satisfaction? How do you know when you are extracting the most enjoyment out of something or somebody or yourself? Do we, at some point, "settle" in our lives? We aspire to do more, be more, see more, but are instead bound by "comfort" or "stability" or "fear"? Who are we? What is our identity?
One of the biggest issues I've seen, both in my life and personal experiences and through stories, is that we tend to fit our identities to meet the approval of another person (or other people). I think I explored this at some length elsewhere in this space, but it bears repeating. We are social by nature and want to be with people at most times. It's difficult to go through life alone, nay impossible. We pine for human closeness. We have an insatiable urge for others. As such, our identity is malleable. This is not unique to a certain group of people. The popular girl, the nerd, the teacher, the CEO, everybody is trying to fit into the definitions of other people.
When I was watching the movie, I was thinking about my personal identity. I am Ryan, yes, but what else is me? My life is going in a certain direction, but that darn film made me think about all the other directions it would be fun to run in. I guess the most crucial thing to remember about our identities is that they need to be personal, at least some portion of them. We need to accept the fact that we are (subconsciously at the very least) shaped by the attitudes of those around us. But what parts are affected?
I like a certain genre of movies, listen to a certain kind of music, believe in certain principles and values, and have unique ideals. I'd like to think so at least. But they've all been inspired by others through the years. They are constantly being shaped and reformed.
There is no conclusion here, as you can tell by the abrupt way in which I ended. But it's certainly something to think about. Are we happy with our identity? What defines us?
Torii Hunter
I've been wanting to write about Torii Hunter for awhile, but I kept putting it off until people had forgotten about his signing and my thoughts would bear little weight. But since we are getting closer to spring training, I feel the time is right to fully explore the Tigers' thinking. Here we go...
The Detroit Tigers of 2012 were, using various methodologies, somewhere between the best and 8th best team in the American League. That is an enormous discrepancy, of which you can thank the endless rounds of playoffs and the overemphasis on divisional play. They had three main stars - MVP Miguel Cabrera, former MVP Justin Verlander, and $200 million man Prince Fielder. There were some lower-tier stars - Alex Avila, Austin Jackson, and Max Scherzer, to name a few - but the Tigers pretty much went with their big guns. If the three-headed monster was performing well, then the team dominated. If they were subdued, the team would suffer. The gap became even more pronounced when big money DH Victor Martinez missed the entire season with a gruesome knee injury. As such, beyond the triumvirate and aforementioned lesser stars, there was a black hole in the lineup, made up of flashes in the pan and veterans who had outperformed their career norms and were due for a down year. This overreliance on the stars and has-beens/never-weres made it difficult for the team to maintain any run of consistent success. It was not until the last few weeks of the regular season that they were finally able to put together a solid run, and even so they only beat the White Sox by 3 games. After getting swept in the World Series, the powers that be in the organization took some time to evaluate the problems and tried to plug some holes, bringing us to Mr. Torii Hunter.
One of the issues the Tigers had to overcome was a lineup populated by Delmon Young, Brennan Boesch, Ryan Raburn/Ramon Santiago/Omar Infante, Jhonny Peralta, and a down year from former All-Star starter Avila. It was, as evidenced by the dogfight with the White Sox, problematic to have so many out machines on the roster. In 2013, a healthy Victor Martinez will replace the departed Young, but Dave Dombrowski and Mike Ilitch decided to fill the rightfield hole with Hunter. Hunter spent the last five seasons with the Angels and was a pretty consistent 20 HR/90 RBI guy who played in 150 games and hit .270/.350. This past year, however, at the age of 36, he had, by raw offensive numbers, his best year - .313/.365, both about 30 points above his career averages. What does this mean?
The Tigers were also horrible defensively. If this were 2003, they would have solved part of that problem by signing Hunter, an 8-time Gold Glove winner. But he'll be 37 at the start of the season, with creaky knees and the inevitable downward aging curve ready to strike with full force. His walk rate declined 40% (65 to 38), while his luck increased well above his typical year. How can he be expected to maintain that lucky pace on balls in play? A player's batting eye typically doesn't wear down (though his other batsmanship skills erode fairly quickly as he ages), so it's troubling to see his already low walk rate fall.
Let's look at the facts. He's 37, an age that, in the PED testing era, is dangerous territory. Very few ballplayers maintain their health and skill at that age (Alex Rodriguez, for example). He outperformed his previous high in batting average by 14 points, so he's due for a down year (or at least some level of regression toward the mean). He is no longer an elite defender, as he has moved from center field to right because of his diminished range. He also had the pleasure of hitting behind Mike Trout, so his RBI numbers were inflated. Toss in the fact that he only played in 140 games (2nd fewest since 2005), and it becomes a higher risk than initially perceived. He's due to make $26 million over the next two years. Perhaps that money could have been spent better elsewhere...
Hunter was a special player in his day. It was awesome to see him running into walls and play center field with abandon. But those days have passed. An already aging team (Martinez, coming back from surgery and expected to carry a huge offensive load, is 34) has gotten older. Since the rest of the division did not get much stronger, Hunter's deficiencies (and the whole lineup, actually) may be masked during the regular season as the Tigers run away with things. But the playoffs - a random mishmash anyway - may prove even more problematic.
The Detroit Tigers of 2012 were, using various methodologies, somewhere between the best and 8th best team in the American League. That is an enormous discrepancy, of which you can thank the endless rounds of playoffs and the overemphasis on divisional play. They had three main stars - MVP Miguel Cabrera, former MVP Justin Verlander, and $200 million man Prince Fielder. There were some lower-tier stars - Alex Avila, Austin Jackson, and Max Scherzer, to name a few - but the Tigers pretty much went with their big guns. If the three-headed monster was performing well, then the team dominated. If they were subdued, the team would suffer. The gap became even more pronounced when big money DH Victor Martinez missed the entire season with a gruesome knee injury. As such, beyond the triumvirate and aforementioned lesser stars, there was a black hole in the lineup, made up of flashes in the pan and veterans who had outperformed their career norms and were due for a down year. This overreliance on the stars and has-beens/never-weres made it difficult for the team to maintain any run of consistent success. It was not until the last few weeks of the regular season that they were finally able to put together a solid run, and even so they only beat the White Sox by 3 games. After getting swept in the World Series, the powers that be in the organization took some time to evaluate the problems and tried to plug some holes, bringing us to Mr. Torii Hunter.
One of the issues the Tigers had to overcome was a lineup populated by Delmon Young, Brennan Boesch, Ryan Raburn/Ramon Santiago/Omar Infante, Jhonny Peralta, and a down year from former All-Star starter Avila. It was, as evidenced by the dogfight with the White Sox, problematic to have so many out machines on the roster. In 2013, a healthy Victor Martinez will replace the departed Young, but Dave Dombrowski and Mike Ilitch decided to fill the rightfield hole with Hunter. Hunter spent the last five seasons with the Angels and was a pretty consistent 20 HR/90 RBI guy who played in 150 games and hit .270/.350. This past year, however, at the age of 36, he had, by raw offensive numbers, his best year - .313/.365, both about 30 points above his career averages. What does this mean?
The Tigers were also horrible defensively. If this were 2003, they would have solved part of that problem by signing Hunter, an 8-time Gold Glove winner. But he'll be 37 at the start of the season, with creaky knees and the inevitable downward aging curve ready to strike with full force. His walk rate declined 40% (65 to 38), while his luck increased well above his typical year. How can he be expected to maintain that lucky pace on balls in play? A player's batting eye typically doesn't wear down (though his other batsmanship skills erode fairly quickly as he ages), so it's troubling to see his already low walk rate fall.
Let's look at the facts. He's 37, an age that, in the PED testing era, is dangerous territory. Very few ballplayers maintain their health and skill at that age (Alex Rodriguez, for example). He outperformed his previous high in batting average by 14 points, so he's due for a down year (or at least some level of regression toward the mean). He is no longer an elite defender, as he has moved from center field to right because of his diminished range. He also had the pleasure of hitting behind Mike Trout, so his RBI numbers were inflated. Toss in the fact that he only played in 140 games (2nd fewest since 2005), and it becomes a higher risk than initially perceived. He's due to make $26 million over the next two years. Perhaps that money could have been spent better elsewhere...
Hunter was a special player in his day. It was awesome to see him running into walls and play center field with abandon. But those days have passed. An already aging team (Martinez, coming back from surgery and expected to carry a huge offensive load, is 34) has gotten older. Since the rest of the division did not get much stronger, Hunter's deficiencies (and the whole lineup, actually) may be masked during the regular season as the Tigers run away with things. But the playoffs - a random mishmash anyway - may prove even more problematic.
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
Follow Up
For the record, my ballot would have:
Barry Bonds (all-time record HR record holder, and that OBP is out of this world. The whole league was afraid of him. That speaks such volumes.)
Roger Clemens (spectacular strikeout artist who kept pitching and kept dominating. It was scared when my teams played his.)
Craig Biggio (3000 hits is too powerful in history for me to discount. I'd even vote for Johnny Damon if he got to 3000.)
Jeff Bagwell (the Killer B's should go in together.)
Mike Piazza (insanely gifted catcher - but mostly for his hitting prowess)
Alan Trammell (for the Tigers!)
David Wells (I think it'd be a much better Hall of Fame with Wells in it)
Mark McGwire (always been a fan. He owned up to it and could smack bombs like no one before or since. The steroids (?) could only go so far. Great eye, great teammate, and now giving back to the game.)
Curt Schilling (I was on the fence with him, but I remember how excited I was to learn the D-Backs got him in 2000. I knew they would win the Series. They were unstoppable. And he was thoroughly dominant with the Snakes. For that, he gets my vote.)
Barry Bonds (all-time record HR record holder, and that OBP is out of this world. The whole league was afraid of him. That speaks such volumes.)
Roger Clemens (spectacular strikeout artist who kept pitching and kept dominating. It was scared when my teams played his.)
Craig Biggio (3000 hits is too powerful in history for me to discount. I'd even vote for Johnny Damon if he got to 3000.)
Jeff Bagwell (the Killer B's should go in together.)
Mike Piazza (insanely gifted catcher - but mostly for his hitting prowess)
Alan Trammell (for the Tigers!)
David Wells (I think it'd be a much better Hall of Fame with Wells in it)
Mark McGwire (always been a fan. He owned up to it and could smack bombs like no one before or since. The steroids (?) could only go so far. Great eye, great teammate, and now giving back to the game.)
Curt Schilling (I was on the fence with him, but I remember how excited I was to learn the D-Backs got him in 2000. I knew they would win the Series. They were unstoppable. And he was thoroughly dominant with the Snakes. For that, he gets my vote.)
The Hall Of Fame
I've been thinking about this Baseball Hall of Fame stuff pretty hard. I've been consuming article after article, replete with people crowing on and on about steroids and narrative and all that. I've come up with a pretty clear line in the sand when it comes to steroids, which is one of the biggest hot button issues the sport has ever faced...
Look, it wasn't illegal in the sport. That's all I can say about it. It's an ex post facto law. You can't persecute someone after the fact for something that wasn't a crime to begin with. If Johnny killed a man (a horrid example I know) before murder became illegal, he cannot be punished. However gruesome and disgusting and chilling his "crime" may be, it was not a crime and therefore is not punishable. Steroid use in baseball was not illegal. I'm not entirely sure why MLB was so late to the party - it was banned in the NFL, Olympics, and pretty much every other sport and competition. But we're not really concerned with the "whys" here. We must only look at the facts. And the fact remains that the alleged steroid users (yes, we must still use the word "alleged") did not break any of baseball's rules. They weren't betting on baseball. They weren't throwing games. They weren't beating up catchers with baseball bats. They weren't throwing spitballs. They were adhering to the rules of the game, as they were written. Yes, it sucks that steroids were allowed, but they were and we can't wash it away. No revisionist history is going to make the slate clear and retroactively apply punishment to the steroid users. Baseball had no rule in place and the competitiveness of the players called for extreme measures. To be honest, I don't think they should be judged negatively for that.
One other thing...of the players on this year's ballot, only Rafael Palmeiro has failed a drug test. Everybody else - Bonds, Clemens, Sosa, McGwire, Bagwell, Piazza - have been thrown in the lump of users because they had guady homerun numbers and suspect back acne. There is also a bunch of heresay and narrative collusion that is keeping them at bay. It's so sad. Until there's a shred of hard evidence, these men must be considered innocent. That's just the way that the law goes.
For those scoring at home: the "suspect" players on the ballot this year are being excluded because of ex post facto laws (against the law of the United States) and are being presumed guilty instead of innocent (also against the law of the United States.) Seems pretty bizarre to me.
Look, it wasn't illegal in the sport. That's all I can say about it. It's an ex post facto law. You can't persecute someone after the fact for something that wasn't a crime to begin with. If Johnny killed a man (a horrid example I know) before murder became illegal, he cannot be punished. However gruesome and disgusting and chilling his "crime" may be, it was not a crime and therefore is not punishable. Steroid use in baseball was not illegal. I'm not entirely sure why MLB was so late to the party - it was banned in the NFL, Olympics, and pretty much every other sport and competition. But we're not really concerned with the "whys" here. We must only look at the facts. And the fact remains that the alleged steroid users (yes, we must still use the word "alleged") did not break any of baseball's rules. They weren't betting on baseball. They weren't throwing games. They weren't beating up catchers with baseball bats. They weren't throwing spitballs. They were adhering to the rules of the game, as they were written. Yes, it sucks that steroids were allowed, but they were and we can't wash it away. No revisionist history is going to make the slate clear and retroactively apply punishment to the steroid users. Baseball had no rule in place and the competitiveness of the players called for extreme measures. To be honest, I don't think they should be judged negatively for that.
One other thing...of the players on this year's ballot, only Rafael Palmeiro has failed a drug test. Everybody else - Bonds, Clemens, Sosa, McGwire, Bagwell, Piazza - have been thrown in the lump of users because they had guady homerun numbers and suspect back acne. There is also a bunch of heresay and narrative collusion that is keeping them at bay. It's so sad. Until there's a shred of hard evidence, these men must be considered innocent. That's just the way that the law goes.
For those scoring at home: the "suspect" players on the ballot this year are being excluded because of ex post facto laws (against the law of the United States) and are being presumed guilty instead of innocent (also against the law of the United States.) Seems pretty bizarre to me.
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Quidditch
I was watching Harry Potter again the other day and realized that Quidditch is a silly little game with inconsistent rules. I'm not really sure why it's my topic of conversation today, but it needs to be discussed.
First of all, what's the deal with this scoring system? 10 points to get the Quaffle past the Keeper, and 150 points to catch the Golden Snitch. That's it. Why don't we just save everybody a lot of headaches and reduce. Make it 1 point for the Quaffle and 15 for the Snitch. Everything is exactly the same. There is absolutely no need for the extra zeroes. Does it look more impressive to win by 130? Perhaps, but not when you take a split second and realize what each point is worth. Similarly, does it look less impressive to only win by 13? Yes, on first glance, but it doesn't take a rocket scientist to do some simple addition and realize if everything is only worth 1 point then, yes, it's a big deficit!
And here's the other problem. I understand it's the Seeker's job to search for the Snitch and everyone else should be busy with the Bludgers and Quaffle. But why deal with that when the points aren't worth it? I mean, couldn't another Chaser help the Seeker find the Snitch? I mean, that's the point of the game, right? It shouldn't be that difficult to find it when there're more people seeking it out, especially considering that it must remain in the field of play.
That's the other thing that bothers me. What are the limits of the Snitch? In the movies it's flying all over the place, to seemingly unending heights. But is that really the case? There must be a dome of some type, right? Unfortunately, we don't really know, as the rules are so bizarre to begin with. The game has been around, per internal storylines, for more than a thousand years. In that time, there hasn't been any big changes in strategy? No Chasers abort their natural position and train as Seekers? No team decided to employ just one transcendent Beater? It seems...too perfect. In real life, teams would constantly be looking for an edge. But it just doesn't seem to be the case here.
However, there are many inconsistencies in the Harry Potter universe, so I guess this shouldn't be so off-putting. I may even get to some of them before August. Chief among them, of course, is how exactly did Hagrid's mom and dad get together in the first place? She was vicious! And the other thing...how many people are enrolled in Hogwarts? I think the wizarding world is far too small to have everything that it does - hospital, Ministry, etc. Anyway, these are musings for another time. Just something to think about....
First of all, what's the deal with this scoring system? 10 points to get the Quaffle past the Keeper, and 150 points to catch the Golden Snitch. That's it. Why don't we just save everybody a lot of headaches and reduce. Make it 1 point for the Quaffle and 15 for the Snitch. Everything is exactly the same. There is absolutely no need for the extra zeroes. Does it look more impressive to win by 130? Perhaps, but not when you take a split second and realize what each point is worth. Similarly, does it look less impressive to only win by 13? Yes, on first glance, but it doesn't take a rocket scientist to do some simple addition and realize if everything is only worth 1 point then, yes, it's a big deficit!
And here's the other problem. I understand it's the Seeker's job to search for the Snitch and everyone else should be busy with the Bludgers and Quaffle. But why deal with that when the points aren't worth it? I mean, couldn't another Chaser help the Seeker find the Snitch? I mean, that's the point of the game, right? It shouldn't be that difficult to find it when there're more people seeking it out, especially considering that it must remain in the field of play.
That's the other thing that bothers me. What are the limits of the Snitch? In the movies it's flying all over the place, to seemingly unending heights. But is that really the case? There must be a dome of some type, right? Unfortunately, we don't really know, as the rules are so bizarre to begin with. The game has been around, per internal storylines, for more than a thousand years. In that time, there hasn't been any big changes in strategy? No Chasers abort their natural position and train as Seekers? No team decided to employ just one transcendent Beater? It seems...too perfect. In real life, teams would constantly be looking for an edge. But it just doesn't seem to be the case here.
However, there are many inconsistencies in the Harry Potter universe, so I guess this shouldn't be so off-putting. I may even get to some of them before August. Chief among them, of course, is how exactly did Hagrid's mom and dad get together in the first place? She was vicious! And the other thing...how many people are enrolled in Hogwarts? I think the wizarding world is far too small to have everything that it does - hospital, Ministry, etc. Anyway, these are musings for another time. Just something to think about....
Who Knew?
Sometimes it's best to suspend belief, throw away reality, pay no mind to everything else, and just live in the moment with your own thoughts and feelings. Nobody knows you better than you know yourself, so why would other people's "insights" have any role on your decisions?
There comes a time when overthinking is an inconvenience. Those are the times when you plan and scheme for a certain event to occur, and then are met with something wholly different. You're left to scramble and pick up the pieces, as you were so reliant on the plan.
Perhaps it's best to live without a plan, roll with the changes, blow with the wind. Instead of being the wind that creates the changes, be the leaves that twist and turn in the breeze. You never know what you may discover, seeing the world through new eyes.
There comes a time when overthinking is an inconvenience. Those are the times when you plan and scheme for a certain event to occur, and then are met with something wholly different. You're left to scramble and pick up the pieces, as you were so reliant on the plan.
Perhaps it's best to live without a plan, roll with the changes, blow with the wind. Instead of being the wind that creates the changes, be the leaves that twist and turn in the breeze. You never know what you may discover, seeing the world through new eyes.
Back To School
I've had tons of fun this break. It's been such a relief to get away from everything. No 5 a.m. wake up calls, no principal meetings, no curriculum headaches, no lesson planning, no coming home at 6 p.m. Things just kind of seemed surreal. But know here we are. School begins anew tomorrow and I must be on my "A" game. We need to hit the ground running because the semester ends in a few weeks, meaning there will be exams galore that I must prepare the students for.
And here's the killer...all this time I've been thinking about how I don't really want to go back. How I want to be a kid forever and not go to my big boy job. How it'd just be great to have zero responsibilities and run about doing whatever, as long as that whatever wasn't going back to Madison. Well, here we are, January 6, and I realized I missed it. I missed the routine, the students, the teachers, the day to day life, the problems, all of it. I don't know what happened to me. I have no idea when it hit me. It was subtle, working its way into and around my life. But I can honestly say that it's exciting to go back.
And there's only 23 weeks to go!
And here's the killer...all this time I've been thinking about how I don't really want to go back. How I want to be a kid forever and not go to my big boy job. How it'd just be great to have zero responsibilities and run about doing whatever, as long as that whatever wasn't going back to Madison. Well, here we are, January 6, and I realized I missed it. I missed the routine, the students, the teachers, the day to day life, the problems, all of it. I don't know what happened to me. I have no idea when it hit me. It was subtle, working its way into and around my life. But I can honestly say that it's exciting to go back.
And there's only 23 weeks to go!
Thursday, January 3, 2013
The Muppets (Starring Amy Adams)
I can't get Amy Adams and the music from The Muppets out of my head, so I decided to share both with everyone!!
Insert Standard 2013 Post Here
It's a New Year. I'm ecstatic, scared, worried, impressed, excited, confused, pumped, depressed, loved, responsible, counted on, needed, shamed, worthless, worthy, and more. 2012 was an interesting year for me. It was like a roller coaster ride, up and down and up and down, all at breakneck speeds.
Last year, I loved and lost. I grew. I regressed. I gained and gave up employment. I expanded my horizons, both at home and abroad. I've embraced life and despised it. It's been a year of dichotomies and juxtapositions.
2013 is new. I know it's just an arbitrary demarkation, but it can be a harbinger of things to come...if we so choose. A new year, a fresh start, a change.
What's next?
December 31
Our flight back to the United States was uneventful. We had an amazing time in Turkey. It was so much fun meeting new people, exploring new places, and trying new things. I felt very welcomed by our wonderful hostess and tour guide and left Istanbul feeling extremely fulfilled. I'm so glad that we decided to commit to the journey. None of us had really created any semblance of an itinerary before departure, and yet it all came together in the most incredible way. Most of that credit goes to Asli, of course, but there's also tons to be said about just being back with the boys again. We had a blast, reminiscing and chatting about nothingness. It's great that we were able to be on vacation together as grown-ups and not have to worry about sticking to a tiny budget. If we wanted to go out for dinner, we would. If we wanted to do something interesting, we didn't worry about the hole it would potentially put in our pockets. We were on vacation. It was a very refreshing concept. And we were together again. It was great.
December 30
Alex and I woke up early and went on a run. The most notable occurrence was when we happened upon some skyscrapers being finished. We were turning around on our out and back and I decided the construction site would be a nice place to do some low-key walking around/recovery movement. I ambled past the guard at the gate with no protestations. I was admiring the buildings and saw a guard making his rounds. Then another one. And another one. All on regular rounds rotation, one after the other. And there were construction workers all over the place. As I turned around to leave, I notice that almost everyone behind me had stopped working and the men in the guard shack were glaring intently at me, as if I were some sort of criminal. It was pretty unnerving. I thought that I was in some sort of James Bond villain world, where all of the henchmen were working on the lastest scheme for world domination. It was wild.
After the palace, we walked back through Taksim for another chocolate covered waffle. We also ran into a protest of some sort and an art installation. We spent some time at the art exhibit and headed back to the hostel. Our airport shuttle was set to leave at 3 a.m.
It was a pretty uneventful day and yet an excellent way to close out our time in Turkey.
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
December 29
Patrick left early to go back to work, though "early" is certainly a relative term. We were so dead from the previous night's festivities that we didn't manage to left the flat until sometime after 2 p.m. We headed to the hostel and reserved our beds. We regrouped for a couple hours and then spent a few more hours in the Grand Bazaar doing some last minute shopping for family and friends. The only other event of note is that I bought a Mega Mac, which is sort of like a Big Mac, except with four patties instead of two. Complete insanity.
December 28
The story of this day can be combined into two distinct parts, each with their own theme and plot and characters. Here we go...
This was Patrick's last full day before he headed back to Morocco so we tried to make the most of it. We ran back across the Golden Horn and along the coast on the other side until we found the remnants of the old city walls that Constantine and his empire had put up to protect the city. The city quickly expanded beyond its borders and the walls almost became obsolete, but they were awesome to see. There were turrets and slits for archers to shoot through. There were also pits in some of the turrets that were used for prisons. Once we got to the walls, we meandered around them for a while, climbing and bouldering and marveling in the history. After we had scurried up one of the archways in the wall, we came upon one of the most magnificent views of the trip. I wish I had brought my camera to capture the amazingness. It was a caged in basketball court with European lines. On two sides you could see the wall - the baskets were less than 10 feet away. On another side was the city, stretching for miles. We were situated on a hill and had a birdseye view of the metropolis that lay before us. On the last side was the neighbrhood - quaint little houses with funny colored roofs and yards with chickens in them. It was a beautiful sight, capturing everything quintessentially European about the place, new school, old school, and older school.
After we got back to the flat, we went straight back to Sultanhamet Square so we could tour the Hagia Sophia. It was originally a Christian church and was the largest cathedral in the world for nearly 1000 years, from its completion in 537 until 1520. That is simply amazing! Anyway, it was a Christian church until the Ottomans took over in 1453, which was a watershed time in Turkey's history. The Ottoman's brought a new Islamic culture and immediately transformed the Sophia into a mosque, which it remained until the 1930's. Then the government of Turkey decided to desecularize it and turn it into a museum, which it remains today.
History lesson aside, it was transcendent. It is enormous, inside and out. I'm left in awe at the medieval (and before) construction methods that were being used. The mosaics and marble and everything else...marvelous.
Then it was time for part two. After a little nap, we met Asli for dinner at another local Turkish place in Taksim and ordered a bunch of plates to share. We then proceeded to our big night out on the town. There are so many words that can be said about that night, but this is what I believe sums up the night: We were walking back to flat as the first call to prayer was going off from the minarets of the mosques, that is to say, sunrise.
Alex and Pat took some videos. They're a more accurate description of the evening.
December 27
We accidentally slept in and were denied the chance for a run as we wanted to get to our new stopover on time. We hitched a ride with Asli's father and from there took the ferry back to the Old City, where we once again walked through Taksim. We were hunting around for our new abode that we had rented for a couple of nights. When we finally found it, just a few Turkish blocks from the main drag, we were stunned by our good fortune. The place was convenient and resplendent. The view the rooftop terrace was unparalleled. The city extended beyond my line of vision, a dizzying array of beiges and tans, lining the hillsides and valleys. The flat was meticulously well kept and I had to keep pinching myself when thinking about how we had such good luck procuring it.
After our visit, we made our way back to the Golden Horn and got on the Bosphorous boat tour. The Bosphorous River is the natural boundary between Europe and Asia, and we had the unique opportunity to sail right down the center of it, able to take in the majesty of two continents coming together. We saw the remains of the wall and the palaces and the mosques and everything else. Most of the historical artifacts were contained on the European side, but the Asian side was definitely nothing to sneeze at. What struck me most was learning that the first bridge linking the two sides wasn't built until 1973. Crazy...
We were pretty wore out by the time the tour was over and decided to stay in our new flat for the evening. We bought some fish and fresh veggies from the fish market and the rest of the dinnertime necessities on the walk "home" and created a pretty excellent feast. And from a non-fish lover, I'd have to say that the salmon was terrific. We then spent the rest of the night on the terrace, smoking cigars and catching up with the boys. It had been a long time.
After our visit, we made our way back to the Golden Horn and got on the Bosphorous boat tour. The Bosphorous River is the natural boundary between Europe and Asia, and we had the unique opportunity to sail right down the center of it, able to take in the majesty of two continents coming together. We saw the remains of the wall and the palaces and the mosques and everything else. Most of the historical artifacts were contained on the European side, but the Asian side was definitely nothing to sneeze at. What struck me most was learning that the first bridge linking the two sides wasn't built until 1973. Crazy...
We were pretty wore out by the time the tour was over and decided to stay in our new flat for the evening. We bought some fish and fresh veggies from the fish market and the rest of the dinnertime necessities on the walk "home" and created a pretty excellent feast. And from a non-fish lover, I'd have to say that the salmon was terrific. We then spent the rest of the night on the terrace, smoking cigars and catching up with the boys. It had been a long time.
December 26
We woke up early on Wednesday and surveyed the foreign land that lay before us. The best way to explore a new place, we've always believed, is by foot, preferably fleet feet. We went out for a morning run alongside the coast we had trekked the previous evening, but headed in the opposite direction. We saw the Prince's Islands, jagged outcroppings stuck out in the sea where no cars are allowed. It seems to be an idyllic return to yesteryear, much like Mackinac Island in Michigan. After our run, it was time to see what Istanbul was really all about.
After a tremendously large breakfast full of even more Turkish food than I can remember, we boarded the train, subway, tram, and ferry into the old city and took a brief tour of the highlights. We went inside the Blue Mosque (quite large), saw some of the relics of Constantine's reign as emperor in the 300's (including the Hippodrome, where they held chariot races, the outer limits of the track designated by obelisks that were several millenia old and still retaining their original carvings). We then walked around the rest of Sultanhamet Square and then made our way across the Golden Horn tributary into Taksim for some dinner and family-friendly carousing.
We hung out at a bar for a bit and ate some delicious french fries. As we were leaving, Alex randomly pointed out a girl and said she was looking at me all evening and that I should go talk to her. Whether this was true or not remains to be seen, but I made my way over there, thinking it would be funny since she wouldn't be able to understand me, and found out, much to my surprise, that she spoke perfect English and had been an exchange student in Wisconsin. This created a wrench in the plans, though, because now I was forced to make conversation, which, when it comes to people I don't know, is a fairly horrifying proposition. So there I was making chit-chat with a Turkish lass while her friends kept snickering and making comparisons between me and Sheldon from the Big Bang Theory (unwarranted comparisons I might add). After this bizarre affair had reached its end (or we had finally gotten hungry for dinner...at 11 p.m.), we made our way to a delicious local restaurant and gorged ourselves on ravioli-style entrees and potato pancake appetizers, all the while discussing my new friend. Sometime after midnight, we caught the bus for the Anatolian side once more. I fell asleep whilst admiring the beauty and, even though we were crossing the bridge onto another continent, I could nary be shaken awake.
After a tremendously large breakfast full of even more Turkish food than I can remember, we boarded the train, subway, tram, and ferry into the old city and took a brief tour of the highlights. We went inside the Blue Mosque (quite large), saw some of the relics of Constantine's reign as emperor in the 300's (including the Hippodrome, where they held chariot races, the outer limits of the track designated by obelisks that were several millenia old and still retaining their original carvings). We then walked around the rest of Sultanhamet Square and then made our way across the Golden Horn tributary into Taksim for some dinner and family-friendly carousing.
We hung out at a bar for a bit and ate some delicious french fries. As we were leaving, Alex randomly pointed out a girl and said she was looking at me all evening and that I should go talk to her. Whether this was true or not remains to be seen, but I made my way over there, thinking it would be funny since she wouldn't be able to understand me, and found out, much to my surprise, that she spoke perfect English and had been an exchange student in Wisconsin. This created a wrench in the plans, though, because now I was forced to make conversation, which, when it comes to people I don't know, is a fairly horrifying proposition. So there I was making chit-chat with a Turkish lass while her friends kept snickering and making comparisons between me and Sheldon from the Big Bang Theory (unwarranted comparisons I might add). After this bizarre affair had reached its end (or we had finally gotten hungry for dinner...at 11 p.m.), we made our way to a delicious local restaurant and gorged ourselves on ravioli-style entrees and potato pancake appetizers, all the while discussing my new friend. Sometime after midnight, we caught the bus for the Anatolian side once more. I fell asleep whilst admiring the beauty and, even though we were crossing the bridge onto another continent, I could nary be shaken awake.
December 25
We only had a couple of hours in Amsterdam so we couldn't do anything too extravagant. However, we were all itching for passport stamps and decided to go walk around outside the airport for a couple of minutes. After the second briefest sojourn into a foreign country I've ever experienced (that swim to Mexico being a notable exception), we were back in airport awaiting our final flight.
Sometimes, when you've been awake for so long, you lose all concept of time and are merely drifting along, ready to fall asleep at any moment. I hopped on our final flight and didn't realize stir until we were descending. I had no recollection of takeoff, nor did I hear the captain telling us how long the flight was going to last. All I knew was that we'd finally arrived!
After getting our visa stickers, we found Patrick waiting for us in the international receiving area of the airport. The boys were reunited again! We then located Asli and she led us to her house in Asia, via taxi and ferry. Her family had prepared us a delicious Christmas feast full of Turkish specialties and I ate until I was overstuffed, but then the baklava emerged and I discovered a secret pouch in my stomach that I had never known was in existence. The combination of the crazy long travel day and the glorious dinner wiped me out pretty good, and after a brief walk along the coast of the Sea of Marmara, I fell asleep in a nice cozy bed.
Sometimes, when you've been awake for so long, you lose all concept of time and are merely drifting along, ready to fall asleep at any moment. I hopped on our final flight and didn't realize stir until we were descending. I had no recollection of takeoff, nor did I hear the captain telling us how long the flight was going to last. All I knew was that we'd finally arrived!
After getting our visa stickers, we found Patrick waiting for us in the international receiving area of the airport. The boys were reunited again! We then located Asli and she led us to her house in Asia, via taxi and ferry. Her family had prepared us a delicious Christmas feast full of Turkish specialties and I ate until I was overstuffed, but then the baklava emerged and I discovered a secret pouch in my stomach that I had never known was in existence. The combination of the crazy long travel day and the glorious dinner wiped me out pretty good, and after a brief walk along the coast of the Sea of Marmara, I fell asleep in a nice cozy bed.
December 24
So I know that I'm a few days behind in the blogging department, but that's only because I finally went to Istanbul! What an insane experience!
I woke up early on the 24th and headed for the train station. I met up with Brian and we took the Amtrak down to Chicago, which was an extremely pleasureable journey I might add. There was so much leg room and there was even a footrest that I could use with no discomfort at all. The car was not crowded and the trip was uninterrupted. It was a blast and makes me think wish that train travel weren't so antiquated.
Anyhow, we arrived in Chicago and took the EL to the airport. Oh the wonders of mass transit...we'll see more of it in the coming week! We got on our plane and flew to Detroit, where we met Alex. Then it was finally off to Europe! The flight to Amsterdam was pretty uneventful, and when we landed it was Christmas!
I woke up early on the 24th and headed for the train station. I met up with Brian and we took the Amtrak down to Chicago, which was an extremely pleasureable journey I might add. There was so much leg room and there was even a footrest that I could use with no discomfort at all. The car was not crowded and the trip was uninterrupted. It was a blast and makes me think wish that train travel weren't so antiquated.
Anyhow, we arrived in Chicago and took the EL to the airport. Oh the wonders of mass transit...we'll see more of it in the coming week! We got on our plane and flew to Detroit, where we met Alex. Then it was finally off to Europe! The flight to Amsterdam was pretty uneventful, and when we landed it was Christmas!
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