Happy Birthday!

Yeah, I'm wishing it upon myself. My girlfriend asked me last night if I was one of those people who loves their birthday. I had never thought about this question, but I had to concede...yes, I am one of those people. Now, I have known people that basically force you to celebrate their birthday. That's not my way. You don't even have to remember. I make it easy. I'll probably just let you know. Like this.

I don't usually do anything too special. I just like the day. It's the freedom to do what I want. People allow you that. Like right now, it's 7 a.m. and I'm going to go over to my coffee table and grab the M&M's I just descried.

Nummers!

Tonight, I will probably have pizza and milk and I will sit at home and watch what I want. Mainly, the episode of Friday Night Lights I missed and the new episode of Lost. Not much, but it's my birthday and it's what I want, so I get it.

Friday Night Lights

Everyone's missing it. Everyone's passing it up for other things. They're looking the other way. "But look, over there. It's Stars. They're dancing! Magical dancing stars!" Paint something pretty for the people, they'll flock. Promises of no indigestion, everyone signs up.

I've probably just shot myself in the foot. I have good friends who watch Dancing with the Stars. And I've never gone with the status quo. People instinctively know this about me and generally turn the other way when I say to look. But still I tell you, beg you, to look. Look at Friday Night Lights. It's the best damn show on television.

Did you see the movie? This is not some cheap knock-off. The executive produce of the TV version was the director of the film. It has the same feel.

Don't like football? The finest episode yet was this week and didn't have a game in it. The coach did not tell his wife that it's tradition to have the team over on the week off. 100+ people show up. How this situation was dealt with was alternately hilarious and touching, but at all points true. The other story was the new quarterback dealing with the town's doubts, and his own, that he is capable of getting the job done. Oh, and he finally talked with the girl he likes, leading to the best line of the show.

I don't know what else to say. It has some of the best acting anywhere on TV. I want everyone to watch this show. Check this episode out at nbc.com. This week, it's on this week on Monday, 10 e.t. and 9 c.t. Right after Heroes. Just stop by for a moment. Let me know what you think.

Thanks.

Calamari

I have read The Lord of the Rings. Twice. I have read Ulysses. But the most difficult thing I have ever read is a 9-page short story by Chuck Palahniuk called "Guts".

My friend Kate told me about "Guts". She had gone to hear Chuck read at a Chicago bookfair where he read it. During the reading, she heard some commotion. Police radios squawking. She was afraid Chuck was going to be arrested. But the reading continued. When the story was over, Chuck said, "That makes 54." 54 what? 54 people who had fainted while he read the story. I have to be honest: I had my doubts. 54 people?

"Guts" is now housed in Chuck's book Haunted. I didn't know this at the time. I simply started reading Haunted one morning on the way to work. I read the opening chapter. Then the opening poem about the character Saint Gut-Free. I turned the page. "Guts".

I imagine people who are on Fear Factor have a similar feeling when they are told what their next task is.

I started it on the train. It was rough. It's a short story, but kind of divided into sections. I was getting to the next section and I wanted to read it in one fell swoop. So I put the book down until I was on the bus.

I got on the bus that morning, and it was a warmer day. The bus did not have any sort of air circulation. I sat down and started to read. And I had to stop. I was nauseous and I didn't trust my ability to get through the story. And just like my projectile vomiting experience, I believed.

I have finished "Guts". I respect "Guts". I will probably never read it again. Should you? If this makes you want to read it? Yes. If not, if you turn a page and see "Guts", run.

Here we go!

As you go about your day today, remember this: There are two NFL teams with records. The Steelers are 1-0. The Dolphins are 0-1. It's official. Football season has begun.

I don't know what my problem is. I've never been this excited before. Sure, I think there should be fireworks after the first tackle of the season. And I'm a Bears fan and I have high hopes for Rex Grossman and the Bears this season. But it's more than that. This is fever.

I've paid attention during the offseason. I know what happened in the draft. I've been listening to sports radio and all of the conjecturing that's been bandied about. I know where we're beginning. The framework is set. I can't wait to see where it's going to go.

I'm excited as hell.

A Lesson from Kingdom of Heaven

Saladin: May peace be with you.
Balian of Ibelin: Alakum-al-salam.

This is dialogue from the movie Kingdom of Heaven. I think it is beautiful. Not the semantics. But what is behind the words.

See, Saladin is Muslim and Balian of Ibelin is Christian. They're exchanging their religious salutations and I just remember thinking how beautiful that was. There was no attempt at proselytizing because it's not going to happen in that encounter. There was no hatred. There was an understanding: "This is what is important to me. This brings me joy. I live my life by this. Let me greet you with this." And they did.

I remember thinking how wonderful it would be if we could live like that. I work at a Jewish agency. It would be wonderful if I could say Merry Christmas and in return I would hear Happy Hanukkah. If we could just get past this fear. Because what is "Happy Holidays"? It doesn't promote understanding. It is a fear-mongering statement. It hides what we believe in a murk of ambiguity. We fear what we cannot see. If we could live out in the open. If we didn't have to hide what we believe but if we could share that in small ways. Bestow it on people. At the very least, there would be much less hate.

Movie Watching

The movie is about what happens to you while you watch it. So, pay attention -- to both the movie and your response. If you have reactions to, or questions about, what you're seeing, chances are they'll tell you something about what the movie is doing. Be aware of your questions, emotions, apprehensions, expectations.

--from Jim Emerson's blog, Scanners

My girlfriend and I had a rather heated argument recently over (surprise) a movie. This tends to happen fairly frequently as we come at movies differently. She's more a casual movie watcher. Notice I use the word "casual" here and not "entertainment." As in, "Oh, I watch movies purely for entertainment." I'm not taking anything away from them, but I'd like to know what I'm doing. Watching movies to decrease my blood pressure? I happen to be entertained by movies, period, and I'd like to reclaim that right. I just don't happen to like only "up-beat" movies. I say that a well-made "depressing" movie brings me more joy than a poorly made piece of fluff. A well-made piece of fluff? Well, that's just fun.

That's basically where this argument started, over, of all movies, Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest. My girlfriend loved it. I didn't. I wanted a well-made piece of fluff. What I got was drudgery interspersed with fun. But what really got me was the end. (Don't worry, you can keep reading. I won't spoil anything.) Because there's this long scene which is boring and unnecessary and meandering and, UGH! I hated it! I kept asking myself, "What are we doing here?" Sure, plot stuff is resolved, but there were a hundred different ways to do it better.

So I'm sitting there...waiting...for something, when, boom! Surprise ending! Fade to black.

And everyone's ecstatic! "Oh, dude, that was awesome!" Everyone except me. Because I'm sitting there, still pissed off about the pointless scene that came before. And then I'm amazed at these people around me. Can they really have forgotten what came before? I'm saying they were as bored as I was, they just didn't realize it. Yes, I'm speaking for them. (And this is where my girlfriend got really pissed. Mostly because I told her she was bored. No, she was entranced by Orlando Bloom.) Perhaps that makes me an elitist asshole. I'm sorry. When a surprise comes along, they're so excited that they forget everything that came before. The whole movie could have been crap, but they don't care.

Why do we let movies get away with this? Would we do this with food? If I'm forced to eat a pile of green beans and then at the end, I'm suddenly rewarded with Reese's Peanut Butter Cup, am I thrilled? No. I'm pissed off.

It runs deeper than this, though. I went to a movie a while ago with some friends and a preview came on that was truly funny. I forget for what. My friends were laughing hysterically. I was, too. The whole theater was. When it ended, not one comment. Then a preview for Dumb and Dumberer came on. I listened. My friends maybe chuckled once. Audience, largely quiet. When it finished, what do my friends say? "Oh, we've got to see that!"

We've got to pay attention to what we're watching. We've got to realize when we're bored. We've got to realize when something's funny. We must pay attention to what we're seeing and how we're reacting. I don't think this is something that only critics should do. We owe it to ourselves. We can have better movies.

That same week, my girlfriend and I went to see Little Miss Sunshine. It, my friends, is a great movie. My girlfriend loved it. What was great was when she said, "You know, I really liked Pirates until I saw this movie." It's the long way around, but that's what I'm talking about.

Sick of Hollywood

That's it! I'm out. I want my old Hollywood back. The one that remembered how to make a summer blockbuster. The ones that were under two hours and fun. The days of Hollywood Lite. I don't want sodden character development and 2 1/2 hour run times leaching my fun summer movies of their fun! Give me my fun and give it to me now! Good gravy, man! I want my 1978 Superman. The one that I grew up with. The one that was fun. The one about Superman and not Lois Lane. (And by the way, Margot Kidder may not have been the ideal choice for Lois, but she certainly kicks Kate Bosworth's ass.) And why on earth does a pirate movie have to be so frickin' long? Show me buckles that swash, some Johnny Depp hijinks, and get me out of dodge. NO ONE BELIEVES THE LOVE STORY! There, free clue. Get it, Bruckheimer!

Because I hold Jerry Bruckheimer entirely responsible. Gore Verbinski directed both The Ring and The Weatherman which are both SHORTER than either of the Pirates movies. I suppose the length is for the themes that need- Sorry, I couldn't finish that joke. And there couldn't possibly be two different people on this great green earth who thought that both Pirates of the Caribbean movies and Bad Boys 2 had to be 2 1/2 hours long. No, that thought could only be conceived in one sick mind.

So this is me, calling out to Old Hollywood. The one from the mid-90's. Come back. Come back to me. Bring me Twister. Bring me Speed. Hell, I guess that means...bring me Jan de Bont.

Screw this. I'm going to pass out watching Elia Kazan's Pinky.

Running, etc.

I'm running outside again without any pain. Only 20 minutes for the time being. For those who don't know, I had been suffering from really bad shin splints for over a year. I would start to run, my shin would seize up 5 minutes into it, and then when I stopped running, I wouldn't be able to flex my foot. I tell people it felt like somebody has cut your leg off at the knee and replaced it with a peg leg.

What changed? I think when the shin splints started, I went back into running too quickly after having not in quite some time. So my muscles weren't prepared to take on the weight I had gained. I've worked myself back in slowly, and it's going well.

I love running. Maybe that's not quite accurate. There are days I love running. And there are days where my legs each weigh 100 pounds. I love knowing that at any moment, I could stand up and run for an hour. I was at that point in college. I'd like to be there again. There's such a sense of power. Isaiah 40:31 takes on a whole new meaning: "They will run and not grow weary." You have a tangible idea of what that can feel like. You get to the end of your run and you can keep going.

There will be some who read this who will say, "I wish I could exercise, but..." To those, I offer encouragement by taking a page from the Apostle Paul and saying to you that I am the laziest of the lazy. Many have been the days that I pass up the opportunity to exercise because the TV or the internet or my bed distracts me. It's simply easier not to. And then I run a couple of days later, a week or two maybe, and suddenly I wonder why I didn't start earlier.

Because it's habit. To get in is hard, to get out is hard, and to get back in is hard. Those first two weeks, you've got to be absolute in your commitment. There must be no, "I'm too tired" or anything of the like. Those first two weeks, those thoughts are deadly. But after those two weeks, you realize that being tired is not an excuse. You can still exercise if you're tired. And that it's far more hazardous to stop. You begin to exercise for your mental health. At least I do. I know how I'll feel if I don't. Talk to anyone who exercises regularly and then can't. There are almost no words to describe.

You've been flying and somebody takes a baseball bat and knocks you out of the sky. It happened to me recently. I had a minor injury beginning of April, got out of the habit, and I just got back in. I think. Talk to me in a week or two.

Start today. If you're interested. I'm as guilty as the next person for the "I'll start next week" goal. 9 times out of 10, next week comes and goes. Don't go great guns. See my personal battle with shin splints about that. Do what you can. My girlfriend started running with me. When she went to get her shoes, the guy told her to start with 4 minutes running, 1 minute walking. Another person I've heard from started with 1 min run, 1 min walk. Do what you can. And don't run in Airwalks or anything like it. That's how I started and that's dumb.

I've had discussions about whether or not you should weigh yourself of not. I used to not weigh myself. My thought was, "I want to do this for myself. I don't want to judge my success by how much weight I've lost." You know what that's like? Trying to train a dog without a treat. If you exercise regularly, you will lose weight. You will be more conscious about what and how you eat. If that doesn't appeal to you, maybe use a tape measure.

Point being, don't use the mirror. If you don't use something else, you will use the mirror, and the mirror lies. You know when someone you don't see very often has a baby or gets a pet, and the next time you see them, you comment on how much child/pet has grown and they say, "I suppose they have"? That's what the mirror is. It's you living with yourself everyday. Don't do that.

Time. If you want to do this, you have time. Nothing more must need be said.

Um, I've come to the end. These are just things I've learned. Or things I know and haven't quite learned. Whatever. Maybe I'll see you running on the lake.

80's TV and Personal Revelations

My roommates, Ziggy and Marisa, and I were reminiscing the other night about TV shows we had watched as kids. Some memories we shared. The PBS show Today's Special was loved by all. Some we didn't. Ziggy didn't remember GoBots at all. Marisa a vague recollection. Ziggy had a foggy recollection of that early computer animated show Reboot. Marisa and I were both all about it. Marisa and I also big fans of The Great American Hero. Ziggy had no clue. Of course, since I didn't have cable, they went off on a tangent about Nick shows.

But through it, there began to emerge a theme for me. It became evident when Ziggy mentioned Scooby Doo.

"I never liked Scooby Doo," I said.

"Why not?"

"It was never a ghost. It was always a person." And then I realized something: I have never been satisfied in knowing the outcome of a show.

People will often ask me why I like the movies I like. "Can't you just like a movie?" Apparently I can't. Apparently I have never been able to. Apparently I have always wanted something that surprises and challenges me. I didn't like Roadrunner and Wile E. Coyote because it was predestined what was going to happen. Same with the Tom and Jerry . Variations on a theme. Perfect Strangers. I gave up on the Hardy Boys. Everybody Loves Raymond. Law & Order. I've watched one episode of CSI. It holds no interest.

Why do I like the movies I like? The shows I like? They challenge my expectations. They go exactly where I want them to by going exactly where I don't expect them to. And if I know where we're going to end up, it better be a darn good ride.

So I guess that's the answer to the question. People, I've always been this way.

Gretchen S., don't read this!

Seriously Gretchen, don't read this.

Here we go.

Creed: I believe in projectile vomiting.

I had my doubts. I have never had any first or secondhand experience. The closest I came was sitting in the back of the car when my cousin Curtis was, as I was told, projectile vomiting in the front seat. He was an infant. This might sound like I was right there, but I was in the back seat of a station wagon. Essentailly, I was looking for Europe standing on the shores of New Jersey. And looking West. Oh, but I heard it all. And then my brother, some friends, and I were trying to drown out the sounds by laughing. Then my grandfather got mad and said, "You kids shut up!"

Memories.

Anyway, projectile vomiting. Fascinated. I wondered where the strength to propel vomit from your body came from. I began to think it might be an urban legend. I thought of going to Snopes.com. And then I ate Chipotle Monday afternoon. I learned all about projectile vomiting. You don't need to go to Snopes. I'll tell you right now.

Now, those who have been with me thus far, you may want to turn away now. This is going to get a little graphic.

I was home a little early from rehearsal Monday. I had started to have some diarrhea and apparently looked terrible. So I was lying on the couch, relatively close to the bathroom, getting up occasionally to use it. Still no sickness to my stomach. Then I felt like I should probably get up. It was going to happen. I moved.

Well, that did it. A little came up. "I can hold it," I thought. I broke for the bathroom. That's when it happened.

It was a surreal experience. Yes, I was sick. Perhaps the most sick I've ever felt. But as it happened, all I could think was, "I'm projectile vomiting! It happens!"

Yes, it certainly did happen. And I am not lying when I write it flew 6 feet. I heard it land. That was gross.

I promptly forgot all of this as I was in the midst of experiencing the most intense 5 minutes of vomiting I hope ever to experience. It was like my stomach developed a personality of its own. And it was pissed off. And done after 5 minutes.

That was Monday night. Today is Friday afternoon. My chest muscles still hurt. I'm not lying. It hurts to laugh and breathe deeply.

But I went through this so that you may know projectile vomiting is no urban legend. It's true. And it can happen to you.

Uncle

I cried, “Uncle!” 3/27/06. See, I have – HAD – an ongoing wrestling match with technology, but I got beat. 3/27/06. I was caught by surprise. I mean, I was reading a magazine article. A printed magazine. The kind the mailman brings to— Forget it. You get the picture. It was in the April 3, 2006 issue of Newsweek. The article “Putting the ‘We’ in WEB.” It talks about the revolution that is occurring on the web right now with sites like MySpace and Flickr. Call it Web 2.0. People shaping the web. Guiding it. It’s a fascinating and thrilling article, and…I gave up. I wanted to be a part of it.

Why had I been resisting? I’ve been afraid of it. I’ve been afraid of the speed of change. Of its impermanence. Its intangibility. I can’t go anywhere and pull it off a shelf. Maybe I’ve been waiting for it to slow down. To finalize. For the merry-go-round to stop. For the wheel to point in the direction I need to go. But it won’t. Maybe that’s what I needed from this article. Screaming in my ears. “This is not going to stop!”

But what of this? Isn’t this how we live? Isn’t much that gets us through a day intangible? I believe in God. I’ve never looked on Him with my eyes. Isn’t much of what gets us through a day impermanent? I believe in my memories. I’ve gone back to my elementary school and marveled at how small it’s become.

I’m afraid of the isolation the web can provide us. We don’t have to interact with people anymore. You don’t need to go to the grocery store. I no longer rent movies from a store. “Grocery and video stores are your concern?” Yes. In the name of convenience, people will isolate themselves. In the future, everyone will be agoraphobic.

And I mentioned technology earlier. Is the web any different than technology? Aren’t they becoming synonymous? Will every piece of relevant technology soon be web-compatible? Yes. Doesn’t that frighten me? Yes! I just soiled myself writing that.

And don’t get me started on what happens when one of our beloved systems crashes. We look like we’re Floridians and it’s snowing.

But anyway, I gave up. 3/27/06.

Here’s what I’ve done:
Taken a picture with my phone and posted it on the internet.
Created a MySpace account
Started a blog

Things to do:
Buy something off Ebay.

I’m not going to be a Luddite. This is happening. I need to find myself within the system. The system as it is right now. It may change tomorrow. But I’ll be there.