Goo Balls!

Great week. I love my sister. And now Meg Johnson too. Donkey Kong Rules!

Find Love. Lose Love.

End of story ... for now

Fern Gully (1992) = Pocahontas (1995) = Avatar (2009)

Afternoon blog. BAM! Change in routine.

I'll be discussing sandwiches and greatness today. In no particular order...

At what point does something cross the defining line from good to great? When does a good tennis match between an unknown Frenchman and a towering 6'9" yank flirt with greatness? Is there a tangible measurement? For John Isner and Nicholas Mahut, the records they rewrote these last few days are laughable. Over 11 hours for one tennis match to finish. Over 200 aces combined for both players. 3 days to complete all 5 sets. But what made this tennis match great was the battle. I watched from 27-27 on, and greatness flowed through both players in their resilience. They didn't know the stats. They didn't care. They just knew that for the next few minutes, they needed to win THAT game. One serve, one return, and one fuzzy little ball at a time. And neither player backed down from the challenge. Physical and mental exhaustion were non-existent. Greatness. Someday I hope I can experience putting 7 straight hours of complete devotion into something like they both did on Day 2 and see the result.

Jumping continents, I think about greatness in Landon Donovan's goal in the 91st minute of the World Cup game yesterday morning. In the moment, just like Donovan said, the goal was easy. Any soccer player at most levels would agree that a goal from 7 yards out directly in front of the net with the goalie sprawled on the ground is pretty much a gimmie. But the greatness of the goal came in the moment. It was what would ensue if the US didn't score. Another 4 years of misery, frustration, disappointment, and loss of faith from the US fans loomed. The 20 or so seconds from when the ball flew magnificently from Tim Howard's gloves to Donovan's sprinting spikes to Altidore's efficient finesse to Dempsey's fortunate goalie deflection to Donovan's golden strike, Facebook statuses, Twitter updates, and headlines everywhere changed forever. Unimaginable hours of training and sacrifices over decades of training from Landon Donovan brought him to a place where an event as trivial as swinging his leg to kick a ball into a coveted section of grass and nylon made him forever a candidate for greatness.

We all experience glimpses of greatness, no matter what level of celebrity they receive. We can either let the moments write our story, or we can write the stories in the moment. This is the part where it would be dramatic and emphatic for me to ask, "What will you choose?" but instead, I'll just leave you with this...

Sandwiches are great.

יש לך מגבות נייר

Wendy's Spoons Are Too Deep For Me

I stare down an empty bottle of Captain Morgan in my hand, wondering, "Do I have a little Captain in me?" I don't own a sword. I've never pirated a ship on the high seas. They're both on my checklist of ways to imitate Johnny Depp and get girls. So far the Secret Window schizophrenia thing isn't working too well.

What an EPIC day in the world. No I'm not talking about the US soccer team and their poignant World Cup victory. Nor am I referring to the epic historic unprecedented marathon of a Wimbledon tennis match neither... BUT...THE iPHONE 4 WAS RELEASED TODAY! Dare I say more? I'll spare you the details, but Steve Jobs mentioned factory included apps that include: doing your laundry, and eliminating all forms of actual human interactions from your daily schedule. Future Saint Mother Theresa, that's awesome.

Unfortunately, today was routine for me. As routine as watching a 7-hour tennis match can be. Still not decided yet... I'm getting up early to finish watching the "history in the making/postponing/recommencing." The Queen will be in the house. QE2 at the Wimbledizzle! Word up to her Parliament.

I have one follower now. As with all of my followers, this is a pyramid scheme. You must get two people, and they must get two people, and you must all give me two dollars. You have one day...

I think I'll go contemplate String Theory with Leonard and Sheldon now.
एक अच्छी रात है

I Played Super Mario 3 on NES Today

Do bloggers usually tell about what they're doing at the moment? Are they just waiting for any lick of wisdom to pop into their heads? I won't tell you what time it is. Just know that I am HERE and you are THERE. Nothing but a "T" separates us.

You don't need to know what song is playing on my computer right now, because frankly I hope you don't care. I WILL tell you that a bowl of Wheat Thins needs a chilled Dr. Pepper to compliment it nicely. Thank you world for salted foods and carbonated beverages.

I drew a picture today in my sketchbook. First time in 5 years. It turned out quite nicely. I think I'll try it again tomorrow. I like drawing people...trying to capture the expression of one pure emotion on their faces is the challenge. A picture is but a millisecond in time, but the joy, pain, frustration, anxiety, surprise, or _____(insert emotion) are what make that millisecond more than a just a moment. Some people take too many pictures though. You know who you are. Sometimes the best memories are the ones that happen in the spontaneity of an instant. You lie in bed that night staring at the shadows on the ceiling, tearing up your thoughts, wondering, "Did that really happen?" A smile. A kiss. Her kiss. Maybe, just maybe, it was magic.

I think I'll go read some Calvin and Hobbes now. Indispensable. Bon Air.

My Sister's Car is a Transformer

I’ve lost the ability to write. Every next word plagues me. Every possible great line eludes me. At what point does one realize they reach this impasse? Maybe it happens to everyone that attempts to write something great. I find inspiration around no corners. I feel I am not qualified enough to even string words together any more. Charlotte and her web could spin better stories than me. I guess I will just tell it how it is.

I am out of college, jobless, and living with my parents. Doesn’t that sound like the magic three of death? I have no girlfriend. I used to think I knew what love was all about. I currently know not. I don’t think I know how to truly connect with someone. Maybe my future soul mate will knock on my front door tomorrow. Nope. I need out of HERE.

Somewhere … anywhere … is where I would go besides HERE. No money, and no financially stable reason to pack my bags, drive, and stop when the tank runs out. It's sad that those are what keep me stuck HERE. I need some excitement. I want to wake up scared looking for adventure. During school I longed for those summer days to arrive when I could wake up at noon and have Cheerios for breakfast while deciding what I would do for the day; however, with no purpose comes no pleasure. Now that they're HERE, I’m tired of not being tired. I have more fun with my eyes wide shut scoring the winning World Cup goal or stealing penguins from the zoo than I do HERE. Currently “fun” consists of watching shows like House, The Big Bang Theory, and South Park to escape from HERE. New episodes are running low. I’m like House with his Vicodin addiction. It’s only so long before I need to find my next fix. Enter music.

I restrung my guitars last week. Dusting off the fretboards underneath the tired strings, I envisioned being rich and famous from the songs I would write and play for fans. Everyone that plays guitar dreams those dreams. If you can write something that cuts to the damned truth, people will listen. It’s about relating to your listeners, and I think I’ve forgotten that, because I can’t even relate to myself now. I am self-conscious about my voice. I think people don’t like it, because I don’t like it. Some days, I wish my parents would tell me they like the sound of the song I’m playing on piano or the guitar. Oh well. Maybe they don’t realize that most of the things I play are the things I’ve written. I want to make my own recordings and make them phenomenal, not just good. Music is my love. Too bad I can’t find the words to tell her how I feel. If writer's block only had a medical diagnosis and prescription treatment. Unfortunately, it's called 'a whole lotta life.' When I write and sing, I want to put my heart out there, but I'm scared of what the world will spit back at me. I need to start being real. Or at least learning what that means.

I wish I could meet and get to know someone new everyday. Listen to their story. Share a beer and an afternoon. Chat about politics, love, and music on our iPods and iWhatevers. I want to fall in love with connecting with people. I want to believe that I can fall in love ... honest love.

I think I need to find me first. Pancakes, puzzles, and pizza rolls. Should I change? Do people ever change? Or are we just too afraid to try? I’d rather fail every day at something new than be content with the everyday failure called routine. Right now I don’t feel home. I need to break my routine. Maybe I’ll start a blog.