Like most of you, I’m pretty horrified by the news of the earthquake and resulting tsunamis in southeast Asia. I don’t watch the news and we don’t get the paper at my place, so I’m actually only just learning about the scale and scope of this now.
The thing is, I was just in southeast Asia back in February. Specifically, I spent 2-15.html#permalink”>days
It’s amazing to me that at the age of 27 I could discover something about myself that has such far reaching consequences that I didn’t already know.
I’m a very introspective person. I am this way because of the sheer trauma and dysfunction that I’ve endured and been party to growing up. Things have happened to me, and lord knows I’ve done things that would blow your mind. For instance, I single-handedly sobotaged my sister Annie’s 10th birthday party, after we had moved back to the States from Rome, having a near nervous breakdown in the process. When I was in high school (maybe freshman or sophmore year?) some kids I didn’t get along with showed up at my house and poured gasoline on my driveway in the form of a pentagram and lit it on fire. It goes on, take my word for it.
So, being introspective isn’t some sort of fucking hobby, it was borne out of sheer neccesity, a way of making sense of an insane world and gauging my own complicity in the events occurring around me. Give a person enough time to think about themselves, their actions, and how they fit into the world, and I’ll give you someone who knows what’s going on more than most.
So, most of my recent life has been dominated by behavior that’s driven by intense and relentless examination, both of myself and other’s around me. So, things that most people would have trouble with (where to go to school, what to major in, where to work) have come very easy to me. It helped (and in some ways, hurt) that I never had much guidance (or input) from my parents in these life decisions. I’m not going to bitch, but I’ll put it to you like this: my father took me to my first ballgame when I was in college. Not very quick on the draw, huh?
So, where am I going with this? Ah, yes, my new discovery. Well, let me give you some background. When it comes to girls, I’ve never been one to chase. I mean, I can be proactive as the next guy, but in general I’m very cautious. If I don’t get the idea that a girl has interest, I’m not apt to act. Which explains why I’ve never really picked up women in bars or clubs.
One of the happiest moments of my entire life was running into someone, who I was shortly going to start dating, on my way home from gym class in my senior year at William and Mary. I hadn’t seen her in a couple of years, but I had always had a crush on her. Anyway, I was happy to see her, but what shocked me was how happy she seemed to see me. Her smile was a mile wide and my heart swelled like it never has since. She said, as we parted, that we should hang out some time, and I just felt like she really meant it. I’m not sure how long I waited to call Ella, but it couldn’t have been long. The subsequent 6 months or so were the happiest of my life. How I managed to fuck that up is probably the subject of my first novel.
So, I need the hint of reciprocity before I can feel comfortable with someone. I’m sure I’m not special in this regard, but it’s only now that I understand why I am this way.
One of the stories that my mom told me about my father growing up (before she divorced him) was about how he had persued her. My father is a 1st generation Cuban-American and was attended Harvard when he met my mother. I think she was a secretary at the time. Anyway, my father chased my mom relentlessly. Maybe it was his latin fire or her New England rigidity, but it wasn’t trivial to win her over. I think they broke up, and got back to together several times. I know at one point he had to make a point of winning her back, and he finally did and they married.
It’s a great story, isn’t it? Especially when you throw in the details and the context of the era (my father had a mustache and bore a vague resemblance to the revolutionary Che Gueverra).
Except it wasn’t. My mother, while she may have loved my father, never could come to grips with who she had married. What he wanted, she chafed at providing, and vice versa. Over a decade of fighting and arguments, and the divorce papers weren’t even dry after our plane had landed in the U.S. from Rome.
So, it’s no wonder I am the way I am in regards to my relationships with women. I’ve always trusted my instincts when it’s come to how other women feel about me. Sure, maybe I was missing out on some hypothetically amazing situations by being so cautious, but it was worth avoiding the kind of pitfall that my parents had ended up in. Still, every now and then I would wonder. Was I making a mistake? Was I missing out on something special?
The answer, ladies and gentleman, is: no. I recently took a chance on something that my heart wanted but that my instincts balked at. I think you know how this story ends. It involves some brief joy followed by a tremendous, gut wrenching blow. Which is why I find myself sitting in the dark, on a Saturday night, drinking some cheap Chianti and trying to put into words the depths that my heart has sunk.
But hey, at least I’ve gained some insight into myself, right? I’m sure that’s worth something on Ebay.
If you live in or around Washington, DC, you’ve been bombarded with arguments and propoganda about the proposed baseball stadium and its likely sources of financing. For people who don’t believe that a sports franchise can galvanize a neighborhood or create wealth in general, read this artcle in the New York Times about the effect of the hockey lock-out. Here’s a quote:
The city of Detroit, for example, estimates that it receives $10 million in direct revenue from hockey games over the course of a season, from sources including parking, public transportation, concession sales at Joe Louis Arena and a surcharge on Red Wings tickets. And according to David Littmann, the chief economist for Comerica, a financial services company that has its headquarters in the city, the hockey season can pump as much as $85 million into the local economy.
It’s funny, as much coverage as this steroid scandal is getting, I’m not hearing nearly enough outrage. Which is more than enough to outrage me. I’d like to repeat some of the arguments that journalists like William C. Rhoden of the New York Times are making:
Steriods can’t make you hit a ball, or be a good ball player. What an stupid and ignorant comment to make. At the current date, there are four baseball players (Barry Bonds, Ken Caminiti, Jose Canseco and Jason Giambi) who have won league MVP awards that have admitted to using steriods. Is that supposed to be a coindidence? What part of increased strength and decreased recovery time doesn’t factor into improved performance of an athlete? Or are we supposed to believe these intelligent, highly paid athletes are injecting these chemicals for no reason?
Ok, so it improves peformance. So what? So does exercise and practice. Another inane argument. Studies have shown steroids to be harmful. There are numerous examples of ex-athletes and ex-bodybuilders who have suffered bizarre ailments that are likely linked to the chemical tinkering they did with their bodies. And even if some athletes are willing to accept the risks, it’s still not ok. Because at that point you put pressure on clean (ie, honest) athletes to juice in order to compete on an even playing field.
Fine, but these are adults, and they should be able to compete in the manner they chose. That’s what they have a Player’s Union for, to arbitrate these things. What’s the harm? The harm comes not only from the adult fans that you alienate but from the legions of children who look up to athletes and seek to emulate them. There have been studies done that have shown an explosion is the use of steriods and other agents by children as young as 12. Concepts such as “fair play”, that have great meaning outside of just sports, are being tossed aside in favor of “whatever it takes.”
Ultimately, I’m simply disgusted with these athletes. I wish nothing but the worst for a guy like Barry Bonds. His entire career has consisted of amazing talent combined with evening more staggering arrogance. He’s never given a rats ass about the fans or been easy to deal with in the media. And when his gargantuan ego came face to face at the age of 36 with the grimp reaper of his athletic prime, he couldn’t inject the drugs fast enough.
I just read a very interesting article in Slate about the ongoing stem cell debate. Here’s an excerpt:
The second proposal, presented by council member William Hurlbut, is exactly the opposite. It’s brilliantly, grotesquely unconventional. Hurlbut, an earnest young member of the council’s conservative wing, has been working for two years on a scheme to end-run the problem of killing embryos. He seems to be the only person in this debate who has figured out that the Catholic fixation on the technical definition of a human embryo, which stem-cell researchers regard as a roadblock, actually presents an opportunity. Instead of whining about the church’s insistence on the continuity of personhood from embryo to adult, Hurlbut has seized on the point of discontinuity: the non-personhood of anything before or less than an embryo. If it isn’t an embryo, it’s fair game…
My buddy Timmay! has decided that since he’s woefully out of fantasy football playoff contention, he’s going to play the role of spoiler. To emphasize this fact, he’s changing his team’s name on a weekly basis to mock his opponent. My team name is the Cuban Refugees. Has been for 4 years or so now. The name of his team this week? Deporting the Refugees. Fairly cleaver, and he’s also beating me by 30 points or so. Doh!
Patton Oswalt is one of the funnier comics out there, and a regular guest on the Don and Mike show (audio clip. He also happens to have grown up in Sterling, VA, so he’s a local boy done good.
Anyway, this will only have meaning to people who listen to D&M, but Patton finally pimped the show on his site. I’m sure this will leave Don as giddy as a school girl, so I only hope he can contain himself the next time Oswalt’s on the show.
You know, it’s absurd how easily I’ve shrugged off the money I lost playing poker on-line a week or so ago. I don’t want to get into numbers, but let’s just say its a “scary big” number. I guess part of me always felt like I was living (and winning) on borrowed time, and when the hammer came down there was some sweet relief to it.
Thank god I bought my laptop with my “winnings” before the hammer fell. I f-ing love this thing. Sure, it’s not the newest or fastest kid on the block, but 90% of my desire for a new machine was to organize the mountain of music, photos, and documents I’ve accumulated. I’ve already spent hours on iTunes and iPhoto getting things in shape.
Some people are blessed with amazing recall when it comes to their memories. They can just sit back and think about that great trip to the beach, etc. My memory (as Taurus) can attest to is miserable. A week or so ago, Peter was telling me about a trip I took to Atlantic City and New York that I took with Eddy and him. I looked at him with a completely blank expression. I was like, “what trip was this?”. Anyway, I was going through my photos, and came across pics from trip. How could I have forgotten about this? It was ridiculous! I slept on the floor of someone’s kitchen, and lost (and won) a thousand dollars in blackjack!
My point being that these photos aren’t just “nice to have”. I need them, and anything that helps me organize them, tag them, print them, and share them is an invaluable tool for me. I just can’t believe I waited this long.
Oh, did I mentioned my Redskins won? Pants had us (Peter, Leslie, Taurus, Joe, Erin, Jules, et al) over for football and dinner yesterday. She whipped up some great homemade Italian lasagne and meatballs and prayed for a Giants victory that was not to come. You see she’s a Giants fan and had made a bet with me tying a sweep by either team to a dinner at the restaurant of the sweeper’s choice. So, since the Giants won the first game, a second victory would have obligated me to take her to dinner anywhere she wanted. Thankfully, my Redskins saved the day. Sorry Pants.
Honestly, there’s just too much good stuff going on to keep track of it all.
The holidays are here
Mother Focker is getting engaged
The company holiday party and bonuses are coming up
The gym is back in the rotation
I’m going to L.A. for New Year’s to visit Madnis
The list goes on…
So, here’s to looking at the bright side of things. We’ll see if I can maintain this kind of pace.
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