The Mentor/Discipleship thing is a thing of beauty.

The entire excerpt is found on espn.com, http://sports.espn.go.com/nba/playoffs/2009/columns/story?columnist=adande_ja&page=KobePhil-090615. 

“Maybe we need to start a new theme: Kobe Bryant can’t win a championship without Phil Jackson.

The great irony of Bryant’s drive for independence from Shaquille O’Neal was that it reinforced the philosophy that you can’t do it on your own. Everyone needs help, and the method for Bryant to acquire the greatest individual reward of his career — the 2009 NBA Finals MVP trophy — was to buy into the wisdom of his coach and former nemesis. In turn, the final steps of Bryant’s evolution allowed Jackson to stand alone as the coach with the most championships in the history of the league.

Over the five years during Jackson’s first stint as Bryant’s coach, the two had grown as distant as California and Maine. Jackson asked management to trade the young star. And when it looked like Jackson wouldn’t be back after the 2003-04 season, Bryant’s response was “I don’t care.”

Contrast that to the lovefest of recent days, when Bryant said, “I’ve been spoiled my whole career playing with Phil. It’s hard to imagine playing for anyone else, obviously. I grew up with him.”

Jackson praised Bryant’s growth, recalling a conversation they had early in Bryant’s career after yet another game in which the ascending star got caught up in his own agenda, this time a one-on-one battle with Vince Carter in Toronto:

“I talked to him a little bit about leadership and the quality and his ability to be a leader, and he said, ‘I’m ready to be a captain right now.’ And I said, ‘But no one is ready to follow you.’

“In those eight years that have ensued from that period, he’s learned how to become a leader in a way in which people want to follow him, and I think that’s really important for him to have learned that, because he knew that he had to give to get back in return. And so he’s become a giver rather than just a guy that’s a demanding leader, and that’s been great for him and great to watch.”

How did they get to this point? They had to reach the bottom first.

Jackson has always been about encouraging a path of self-discovery for his players, that there was education to be found in defeat just as well as in victory. He has demonstrated that he’s willing to lose a regular-season game to prove a greater point. During the tumultuous 2003-04 campaign, with the Kobe-Shaq feud having surpassed the point of being reconcilable and Jackson’s own future with the team in jeopardy, Derek Fisher wondered aloud whether Jackson would be willing to sacrifice the entire season to teach a lasting lesson.

The Lakers had more ammunition than ever before, with Gary Payton and Karl Malone joining O’Neal and Bryant, yet the older players were agitated by Bryant’s frequent ventures into the Kobe Zone, where he’d try to do everything on his own. Jackson, wary of encroaching on Bryant while his young star dealt with his sexual assault case in Colorado, never reined Kobe in. He didn’t do much of anything, really, while the team finally collapsed under its own weight during a five-game NBA Finals loss to the Detroit Pistons.

“I think it taught all of us a lot about the fact that you can’t just put guys on a team and think that you’re going to win just because guys have accomplished certain things in their careers,” Fisher recalled, five years later. “Which is why it’s always been weird to me that Phil’s always been questioned about how good a coach he was. Because if it was just about talent we would have won a championship that year. There has to be a willingness to believe.”

Jackson was gone within a week of the last game of the 2004 Finals. Within half a season the next year, Bryant and the Lakers would come to appreciate what they’d lost. It turned out the triangle offense, which Bryant had often found restrictive, was the best fit for him. Instead of placing him in the middle of the court, where double-teams could easily trap him, the triangle isolated him on the wing. So after the team floundered under Rudy Tomjanovich, he stepped aside as coach during the first year of his five-year contract. Jackson was off visiting former Bulls center Luc Longley in Australia when the news broke, and when a Los Angeles Times reporter reached him by e-mail, Jackson replied that he was having a good time body-surfing … and would consider coming back to the Lakers.

This time Jackson got his terms — an eight-figure salary — and a more compliant Bryant, who had tried it his way and failed. Jackson allowed Bryant a year of indulgence, shooting at will and averaging 35 points a game, because the team wasn’t ready to contend for a championship anyway. But after Fisher returned and Andrew Bynum improved and Pau Gasol arrived, the rules changed. Bryant went from demanding a trade to winning a Most Valuable Player award — still in a Lakers jersey.

Hit the TiVo forward button a couple of times to get to Sunday night. In the quarter that delivered the championship — when the Lakers outscored the Orlando Magic 30-18 in the second period of Game 5 — Bryant scored only four points. And yet his imprint was all over the turnaround from a six-point deficit to a 12-point lead, as the Lakers put on a showcase of offensive efficiency and unyielding defense. He was setting up his teammates and he was driving them as well, exhorting them as they seized their opportunity to drive a stake through the Magic’s heart.

Everyone on the court looked like a star, and this brings up something that Bryant and Jackson don’t receive enough credit for: Players are at their best when they hook up with them. Look at Trevor Ariza, a bit player in New York and Orlando, now a valuable starter on a championship team. Shannon Brown, a throw-in during the money-saving trade of Vladimir Radmanovic to Charlotte, gave the Lakers some productive playoff minutes. Smush Parker averaged more than 11 points per game in his two seasons with the Lakers, then was out of the league two years after he left them. 

 What’s it like to be around one of the best coach-player combinations ever?

“You find yourself almost in awe sometimes,” said Brown, who was a Bulls fan growing up in Chicago. “When I first got here, it was like, this is one of the guys I grew up watching, coach six championships, where I’m from. I’m like, that’s Phil Jackson, man. Then I look at Kobe, he’s got three of them [rings] back to back to back, one of the greatest to ever touch the ball. And I get to learn from them.

“I’ve learned determination, confidence, just to seize the moment. It’s stuff you already know, but when you get with a combination like that, it boosts it a little bit.”

So many other Lakers were boosted in these Finals, with two strong finishing performances from Ariza, a shot for the ages by Fisher, and a demonstration of Gasol’s skills, which Lamar Odom said rank “up there with the best post players ever.”

Late in Game 5, Orlando called a 20-second timeout and the Lakers gathered by the bench, high-fiving and hugging. Jackson stood back and smiled like a proud parent. He doesn’t spend a lot of time in the huddles in the first place, usually strategizing with his assistants before stepping in at the last minute to deliver instructions. This time he never joined them, allowing them to have their moment to themselves.

After the game Jackson would have a unique encounter: a handshake with Bill Russell, the only other former player and head coach with a double-digit championship ring collection. It was a brief exchange, no doubt iced by Russell’s affinity for his coach, the late Red Auerbach, whom Jackson had just relegated to second place on the list of NBA championship coaches.

As Jackson went to the stage for the trophy presentation I asked his agent, Todd Musburger, if this would be the last time we’d see Jackson on an NBA court. Jackson, 63, has a year and $12 million left on his contract, but a variety of physical ailments have made the job more difficult. And at this point what’s left to accomplish? So is this it?

“No,” Musburger said. “We’ve had a number of discussions about what he’d do, win or lose. He didn’t want to leave under either scenario.”

Jackson has yet to give official confirmation that he is returning. Bryant can opt out of his contract as well, although Saturday he gave his strongest hint yet that he doesn’t plan on leaving the Lakers even if he does opt out. Things can always change in the NBA.

One of Jackson’s strongest themes is to stay in the moment and Sunday was theirs. Bryant said he lured Jackson into the team huddle in the locker room so they could douse him with champagne, the victors’ bathing ritual that the aging coach had avoided after his more recent championships.

The players wanted him to be a part of it.

“He took his glasses off, threw his head back and soaked it all in,” Bryant said. “Because this is a special time … and for us to be the team that got him that 10th championship, that historic 10th championship, is special for us.”

They locked in a tight embrace, the vast gap that once existed between them now completely erased. Sometimes dependence can feel pretty good.”

Self

I have to warn you, before you read this.  I just read a book, “A Child Called It”, and I’m really disturbed by it.  So the following is probably going to be deep, but dark.  Depressing, even.  I don’t do posts like this, normally.  But this is “one of those times”.  Read at your own discretion.  And if you have some problem with cussing, I doubly recommend you to not read it.  Cause then not only will you be depressed, but you will be angry with me that I used a cuss word.  One final warning is that when I get like this, I get really caught up in the moment and probably get too extreme.  Oh well.

We live in a bubble, all of us.  A bubble of comfort that is lavished upon us abundantly, overwhelming us with myriads of toys and tricks and games and gimmicks that have one singular purpose: keep us focused on self.  Self, that singular word, that individual entity that dominates our existence.  Self, the motivating force by which we justify all that we do in life whether consciously or subconsciously.  We need to look after self.  To take care of self.  To promote, to help, to grow, to nourish, to support, to feed our self.  All the while, we become blinded, a chosen ignorance that embraces the blessings with smiles and laughter and joy, and shuns the discomforts with disgust and a sigh of sympathy.  Our form of recompense is tied up in money and gifts, and rarely, oh so rarely, paid through a giving of self.  There are few who give self away.  But those legends are so far and in between.  6 Billion people, a few is not enough.

A man drives by the largest concentration of homeless people in America…

…his method of salvation is slipping a half eaten sandwich outside the window of his expensive Mercedes Benz to one of the passerbys.  Good thing none of the mayonaise from the sandwich dropped on his car.  That might have been pretty expensive, more than self had planned to commit to help the helpless self!

How about this.  A woman is beaten, raped, murdered in an alley late at night.  Many selves are watching, hearing, fearing.  If they call, what will happen to me?  What if he comes and kills me?  Someone else, some selfless self will definitely be the one to make the call.  This is a matter that this self cannot be tied up in; I have too much of myself to worry about!  So no one calls.  Everyone thinks the other will, and in the end, the girl dies.  Two hours in the alley, slowly bleeding, blood dripping, dying.  She’s crying.  But the selves have turned away.  They’re right.  The self is probably too important to risk a little. 

Movies stir us.  Tears of pity often leave us, make us wonder, make us shudder.  Such a harsh world: God bless America!  Whole countries are dying, but God bless America!  War’s are lurking, children soldiers.  Nine years old here, loved in school.  Nine years old there, loved in whore houses.  Little ones make more than olds: better for the economy of the trade.  Innocense lost, left beaten and dead.  Justice’s iron fist is just a dream, an evanescent image…fading…

They hope.  They pray. 

Silence.

One last story to read, and sigh, and then forget.  Five years old, trapped in her home.  Basement prison, raped and beaten.  Bearing her father’s children.  So damned dark, it haunts her still.  Her source of saftey, security, ruined.  Her protector nothing but a demented pervert.  Just imagine…

Meanwhile, all of us continue to be tied up in our obligations, to our self.  Our 2.5 kids.  Our picture perfect life, with a white picket fence, flowers and baseball at the park.  “Nothing wrong with feeding self,” the self says, and smiles with jubilant satisfaction at appeasing the guilt of self with every form of justification known to man.  “What can one person do,” the self victoriously boasts.  An admirable argument, indeed.  Then we proceed to use the guise of prayer, to compensate for self.  “God will take care of it,” we assuredly say.  I agree.  But what part will you play?

Even now, it’s a sad reality.  As I’m writing, these words are filled with hypocrisy.  This is as much to you as it is to me.  Isn’t that sad?  That even those who have such thoughts, are nothing but phonies, feeling pretty damned sorry, but often so lazy, so worried, so damned fucking tied up in self? 

I’m sick and tired of self.

Aren’t you?

Movie Fest

I don’t think I’d normally do a post like this.  However, with the realization that I’ve very little else to do besides work endless and stupid hours while running my own business in a turmoil and hectic economy, I figure writing something to get everyone pumped up and excited for the month of May (there are a plethora of amazing movies coming out) might be a semi-decent use of my time.  So with that let me give you a list of the top 5 movies that I am absolutely excited for this coming May.  This is going to be a GREAT MONTH for movies, and I absolutely need to spread my enthusiasm for the awesomeness of this month. 

#5: Battle for Terra, May 1st

Now I know that this is a probably one of those “sleeper” movies that not too many people are going to know about because until I watched Monsters vs. Aliens (which was an all around pretty good movie) even I had no idea about this one.  However, Battle for Terra promises to be not only a great 3d experience (which, btw, the 3d movies I’ve been watching lately have been doing a TERRIFIC job of optimizing that once negligible feature) but also a great storyline: humanity is on the brink of destruction because we are running out of oxygen, so in order to stay alive we must invade another planet and take over their world.  This is a very interesting movie idea, and I couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony and role reversal the film is trying to achieve.  I mean, it’s definitely going to beat the hell out of recent “alien movies” that have come out like Indian Jones 4 and The Knowing.  Honestly, whoever decided to throw aliens into the plot of Indian Jones 4 and The Knowing deserves to be SHOT. 

#4. X-Men Origins, May 1st

Okay honestly, the previews for this movie looked ABSOLUTELY STUPID.  Okay, I just watched it again and NEVERMIND IT LOOKS AWESOME.  I thought at first it might be overdone, like wayyyyy too much effort (Think Matrix 2 and 3…fail).  However, surprisingly it has been holding up VERY well in Rotten Tomatoes.  And because Rotten Tomatoes is basically my “movie bible”, I believe everything it says, no questions asked.  The way I generally look at it, if either the critics or the user reviews are over 70%, it’s going to be a pretty good movie.  X-Men Origins, with six votes so far, is a sparkling 100%.  I’m sure that’ll drop to somewhere around the 70-80% mark, but I still think this movie overall will be solid.  It’s definitely not a “sure-fire” lock for a great movie, but I think it’s going to be worth watching.  If I were you, I’d keep an eye out on Rotten Tomatoes and see how it fares once most of the critics have seen it.  As for me, I’m probably going to catch this one on opening day because…well…I’m a loser with no life and friends and only my mom and sister to hang out with.  Woe is me.

#3. Star Trek, May 8th

OKAY.  I AM NOT A BIG TREKKIE.  As much of a nerd as I am, I HAVE NOT degraded myself to so low a level that I will endorse the Star Trek franchise, or learn everything there is to know about William Shatner and pee myself everytime I see him on TV.  No, I do not salivate over the thought of meeting him.  HOWEVER, after watching this trailer and seeing the early reviews, I HAVE GOT TO SAY THAT I AM COMPLETELY STOKED for Star Trek.  JJ Abrams seriously pimped out the Star Trek series and I seriously think this one is going to be as exciting and revitalizing to the franchise as Batman Begins was to the Batman Franchise.  Pretty soon, I’m going to have to go to Star Trek conventions in my Star Trek suit, be forty years old and still living with my mom without a wife, and believe that UFO’s really are going to invade and take over the earth one day.  The fall is big for those who get sucked into the Star Trek world. 

#2. Up, May 29th

Okay, the 1 and 2 spot were VERY tough for me.  Pixar has got to be one of the best movie companies of all time.  Their work is AMAZINGLY solid, with many of their films probably in my top twenty films of all time.  Monster’s Inc is seriously AMAZING.  However, as funny as this fat little kid looks like he will be, NO ONE CAN BEAT Boo from Monster’s INC.  SHE IS THE BEST EVEN THOUGH SHE DOES NOTHING THAT IS FUNNY AT ALL.  With Pixar, they’ve set the bar SOO high on other movies that it seems almost impossible that they can make a movie better than some of the previous ones that they have made.  I think currently my list of “favorites” is:

1. Monster’s Inc, 2. Ratatouille, 3. The Incredibles, 4. Toy Story 1-2, 5. Finding Nemo, 6. Wall-E, 7. Cars, 8. Bug’s Life

When such a quality movie like Finding Nemo is in fifth place, you know you’ve made some pretty freaking damn good movies.  Kudos to Pixar and especially Steve Jobs who has done an amazing job with both Apple and Pixar.  It will be a very sad day when you die, man.  Good thing I’m a PC guy.

#1. Terminator Salvation, May 21st

DAMN.  DAMN.  HOLY FREAKING DAMN.  ARE YOU NOT EXCITED!?  DID YOU NOT JUST WATCH THE SAME TRAILER I JUST WATCHED?  OMG!!!  FINALLY A TERMINATOR MOVIE WITHOUT FREAKING ARNOLD.  It’s been a LONG TIME COMING.  Christian Bale is such a stud, besides his ungodly cussing rampage on set, HE IS THE MAN.  “IF WE STAY THE COURSE.  WE ARE DEAD.  WE ARE ALLLL DEAD!”  DAYUM!!!! 

What a stud.  If I had a girlfriend and she left me for Christian Bale I’d forgive her BECAUSE I KNOW THE LADDER THEORY.  Although.  I’m pretty sure Christian Bale’s not really into the “imaginary girl” thing.  I swear Mr. Bale, if you could see her you’d think she’s hot too…

Now…to go make friends I can watch the movies with that aren’t invisible to everyone but myself.

Twenty – Four

If you have this song, it might be good to play it while reading this post.

Twenty four oceans
Twenty four skies
Twenty four failures
Twenty four tries
Twenty four finds me
In twenty-fourth place
Twenty four drop outs
At the end of the day
Life is not what I thought it was
Twenty four hours ago

Still I’m singing Spirit take me up in arms with You
And I’m not who I thought I was twenty four hours ago
Still I’m singing Spirit take me up in arms with You

Twenty four reasons to admit that I’m wrong
With all my excuses still twenty four strong

See I’m not copping out not copping out not copping out
When You’re raising the dead in me
Oh, oh I am the second man
Oh, oh I am the second man now
Oh, oh I am the second man now

And You’re raising these twenty four voices
With twenty four hearts
With all of my symphonies
In twenty four parts
But I want to be one today
Centered and true

I’m singing Spirit take me up in arms with You
You’re raising the dead in me
Oh, oh I am the second man
Oh, oh I am the second man now
Oh, oh I am the second man now
And You’re raising the dead in me

I want to see miracles, see the world change
Wrestled the angel, for more than a name
For more than a feeling
For more than a cause
I’m singing Spirit take me up in arms with You
And You’re raising the dead in me

Listening to this song, every time, stirs something up in my spirit.  I am actually not quite sure why–for the longest time, I didn’t even understand what the words really implied.  I just knew that there was something really heartfelt and meaningful behind them.  So I began to ask myself the question, what does it all mean?  Why is this song so riveting if I know so little about it?

I started researching a little about the song.  Here’s an interesting fact: Jon Foreman wrote this song on the eve of his 24th birthday.  That’s going to help a lot in the interpretation…

So here it is, an interpretation (this is my own, whereas I am sure of some parts, I am taking a lot of guesses on many sections of the song so feel free to disagree): 

Twenty-four years have gone by in Jon Foreman’s life, and he’s experienced the different “seasons” of life depicted by the “skies” and the “oceans”.  Basically, that imagery is used by Jon to capture the essence of twenty-four tumultuous and difficult years of life.  Within that, he’s realizing (after twenty-four years of life), that each year has been the root of so many failures; that although he’s trying his best to be perfect in everything, he’s always falling short.  He’s had “twenty four” tries at life, and every year, he’s come up short and missed the mark.

Furthermore, after twenty-four years of life, he’s in “twenty-fourth” place, which is an expression of feeling inferior and just completely down and lost in this world of hardship and anxiety.  He feels like after all his efforts, the only thing that his work has netted him is a spot that not even comes close to first.  It’s almost like a feeling of “man, after all these years what have I even accomplished?  What have I even done?”  This same feeling is furthered by the “twenty four drop outs”, showing that he hasn’t finished so many things that he had intended to do.

This line of thinking culminates on the “life is not what I thought it was”, meaning that in his youth (twenty-four hours ago), he was under the naive impression that life would work out exactly like he had thought it would.  However, he was confronted with reality: that life often doesn’t work how you want it to.  Even though you try and struggle through life, so often we find ourselves on the other side of where we wanted to be. 

Yet…even in that, Foreman utters the prayers of his heart, that the “Spirit” (God) would take him up in his arms.  That even though life has been chaotic, and that life has been hard, there’s something so sweet about the embrace of God that just brings a sense of peace and comfort into his life.  Foreman feels that although it’s rough and although it’s hard, he wants to run after the one thing, the one place where he knows he has sanctuary.  God.

He then goes into a slight verse refrain, where he states “twenty four reasons to admit that I’m wrong”.  During this phase, he’s basically confessing to God that he knows he hasn’t done well in this life.  He knows he hasn’t done all that he’s supposed to yet, and that he’s still so imperfect.  However…

“I’m not coping out”, is a declaration of his heart’s intent to never “give up” and to never surrender, especially when God is “raising the dead in him”.  That even though he’s fallen short, he knows that God is still doing his work in him, and that he’s not going to give up and he’s not going to let go of his faith in Him.  He knows that God is changing Him still, and that although he has his insecurities and fears, that he’ll be made complete and find his ability to keep on going and persevering through God.

Which leads to his next assertion, “I am the second man”.  This is a declaration that he’s submitting to God, that he’s the “second man” and God is the “first man”.  That God is the one leading, and that Jon is simply trying to do his best to follow the lead.

Following this is “twenty four voices”.  This part was a little bit more tricky to understand, but the way that I interpreted it is that God is taking him through all these experiences and all these things in life and raising up “24 voices with 24 hearts”.  All of these are a hodgepodge of experiences that are screaming into the life of Jon, and that are singing out of him.  They are not BAD, per say, but they are a collection of hurts, difficulties, and tons of situations that have been flooding his life and helped to grow and mature Jon.  However, he wants to be “one today”, “centered and true”.  This is a powerful assertion: it’s a request, a beseeching of God on Jon’s part to bring him under ONE authority, under ONE voice.  That everything else in his life would drown out but the voice of God, the only voice that matters.  The only truth that matters.  He wants to be centered in God.

Finally, it goes into “I want to see miracles”.  This part is the final request that Jon makes to God, in this prayer/song.  Jon wants to experience God and wants the world to experience Him.  He wants “more than just a feeling”, “more than just a cause”.  In fact, when he wrestles with God, he wants more than “just a name”.  Basically, Jon is asking that he wants his interaction and relationship with God to be so true, and so right.  That it’s MORE than just what traditional Christianity has taught us to accept about our relationship with God.  He wants authenticity, something so powerful and real that it completely changes his life and the lives of the people around Him…

And yet, even though Jon hasn’t figured it out quite yet.  Even though life is not perfect yet.   Even though he’s failed, and will probably fail millions of times from here on out…

“Spirit, take me up in arms with You”.

The Ladder Theory

Oh, it has been quite a while since I have blogged.  As such, I have decided to come back with a bang and introduce to all of you wonderful people my (often disputed and debated, but still powerfully relevant cause I am just that amazing) concept: The Ladder Theory.  As a disclaimer, feel free to disagree.  These are not beliefs that I hold onto very strongly.  I could care less if you disagree with this one, I just write this for fun.  I do believe this theory, but if someone presents a better theory or effectively debunks it, then kudos to you and I will probably adopt YOUR opinions instead. 

Furthermore, before I get too crazy with this, let me clarify that I was not the original inventor of this theory.  However, after hearing the theory and pondering it for many days (yes, I sit at home and think about pointless theories because I am bored and lonely and hopelessly single), I have unpacked and expanded upon this once flawed theory.  However, after ruminating in my mind for a while, I believe it is ready for presentation to the real world.  Prepare yourselves.  :p

The ladder theory is quite simple: men have one ladder, women have two ladders.  Now, I know this “ladder” metaphor can be quite tricky for those who do not fully grasp and understand this theory yet (or for those who have not heard me droning on for hours and hours about the theory at some random dinner event or bellagio buffet in las vegas or…), but once I introduce the theory I believe that you will have to admit that although you do not fully agree with it, you have seen it on more than one occassion!

So let me FIRST introduce it from the perspective of a guy who has been BURNED by this reality before.  Girls, in their evil nature (just kidding!  half kidding…okay not kidding but men are evil too…), have a ladder for BOTH the people that they consider to be friends and people that they consider to be potential.  What the ladder represents, in essence, is the rankings by which we place those of the opposite gender in our lives.  Basically, when girls first meet people in their lives they categorize them as either potential (the people they are willing to date) or friends (the people they can hang out with but can never date). 

Let me give an example.  Girl meets Guy X and Guy Y, both of which are startlingly good looking, amazing, and quite impressionable young men.  When meeting both Guy X and Guy Y, the Girl quickly evaluates both (and based on some subconscious or conscious connection that is drawn through either physical or spatial properties) determines that Guy X is a guy she would DEFINITELY hook up with (unfortunately, this doesn’t seem to happen in PC quite often..) and Guy Y is a guy she would NOT hook up with, but could DEFINITELY see herself being friends with.  As a result of these conclusions, each guy finds a spot on their respective ladders.  Guy X is on the “potential ladder”, and Guy Y is on the “friends ladder”. 

Here’s the kicker, the part that (for many guys) sucks a heck of a lot in this theory.  The Girl, generally speaking, is willing to spend JUST as much time and show JUST as much affection toward the guys on her friend’s ladder as she does with the guys on her potential ladder.  This CHANGES, of course once the girl starts dating someone, but before this fact, usually she’s willing to hang out with both equally and unbiasedly. 

THEREFORE, let’s propose a possible situation.  Let’s say that Guy X does not find Girl in Question attractive at all (sorry Girl in Question, sometimes life just sucks).  However, Guy Y (who Girl in Question does not REALLY like but sees as a good friend), decides that she is the ABSOLUTE love of his life.  As a matter of fact, he becomes obsessed (stalks her, buys her stuff, opens the door for her…you know, friendly not so invasive stuff), and Girl in Question begins to hang out with Guy Y because, as far as it concerns her, he is nothing but a friend.

HOWEVER, unfortunately she (Girl in Question) fails to ADEQUATELY notify Guy Y that in fact, you are not someone that I am very interested in, but rather, you are someone that I just see as a friend.  This could be for various reasons, but one of the primary ones that I have come across is the reality that Girl in Question often likes the attention that Guy Y gives her.  She is in denial that he “likes her”, and puts off confronting that reality as long as possible.  So Guy Y is pursuing Girl in Question, only to find out to his detriment and misery that Girl in Question only sees him as a friend, which of course, causes all the sh*t to hit the fan causing chaos, distress, turmoil, depression, etc…

That’s the basic from the girl to the guy position of the theory.  With that, let me add a few side notes.  It IS possible that Girl in Question MAY actually end up moving a guy on the friends ladder to the “potential” ladder, however, this is a VERY LONG AND ARDUOUS process.  It takes FOREVER for this to actually happen, and usually it only happens because of some epiphany or some revelation that Girl in Question has.  Maybe they end up dating Guy X and find out that Guy X is not exactly what she wanted, and that, in deed, Guy Y has the qualities she has always been looking for.  Maybe she becomes less superficial by some divine revelation that all humans deteriorate physically at some point in their life.  Maybe Guy X becomes fat.  I don’t know.  The point is, Guy Y moving to potential ladder is not very easy, and for those of you Guy Y’s that are desperately holding out on some Girl in Question waiting for them to come around…I COMMEND YOU.  You are real tree choppers, diligently cutting down the tree with carefully placed strokes, just waiting for the tree to fall.  Unfortunately, your life is probably filled with depression and misery.  SUCKS.

Anyways, now let’s continue on to guys perspective.  Guys, unlike girls, have only one ladder.  Now, I want to also throw in some conjecture here really quick and clarify that there are ALWAYS exceptions to the rule.  This is for both girls and for guys.  However, for the most part, guy’s have one ladder, as far as most of the ones that I have run into.  Guys, because we by nature are less complicated then girls (omg i am so gonna get in trouble for these sorts of comments.  Remember, these are all from a GUYS PERSPECTIVE, so anything I throw out there may be…biased…), have VERY simple rules that are applicable to our ladders.

These are the rules: when we meet a girl, she is either on the top of the ladder, or the bottom of the ladder.  So now, this is the way that this usually works.  Guy in question meets Girl X and Girl Y.  Guy in question ends up totally liking Girl X, but for whatever reason is not so hot on Girl Y.  Therefore, as a result of this gravitation toward Girl X, guy puts Girl X on the top of the ladder, and guy put Girl Y on the bottom of the ladder. 

Now, in a sense this basically dual ladder theory seems to suggest that there might as well just be a second ladder for guys since they won’t ever date anyone on the bottom of their ladder.  HOWEVER, the really big difference here is, that for the most part, as far as “attention” goes, Guy in Question will RARELY give as much attention to girls on the bottom of ladder as they would girls on top of ladder.  Now, it is NOT to say that Guy in Question will not hang out with or be friendly to Girl Y, but RATHER, they are going to give special attention to Girl X because he, quite frankly, is attracted to her.  As a matter of fact, guy usually will only REALLY invest in Girl X if she is near the top of their ladder.  Girls can shift positions a lot easier on guys ladders because it usually is dependent on which of the girls on the top of their ladder gives them more attention.

There’s a lot of sub clauses that I can throw into the mix here, however, in order to keep this as simple as possible, all I will say here is that ultimately, the reason why guys will give more attention to Girl X is because, in general, guys are supposed to be the ones that are “going after” the girl.  As a result of this, girls are generally waiting for the guys to pursue them, and although they will drop hints and make strong suggestions, it is usually up to Guy in Question to start the pursuit.  Now, on this note, guy will rarely do nething that even closely resembles pursuit of girls on bottom of their ladder.  However, when a girl is near the top of their ladder, and the girl throws out subtle suggestions, guy becomes an enraged hormonal maniac, and all the sensors of “I need to get married now” begin to consume him.  He starts to give Girl X a ton of attention.

Now, here is the sucky part.  If Guy in Question does this to Girl X, and Girl X has him on the friends ladder, Guy in Question may be thinking that she is inviting him to romance her, and that he is on the potential ladder.  With this knowledge, he begins to shamelessly pursue her only to find out to his horrible misery that…SYKE.  You got dissed.  And you fail.  At life.

Just to balance out the accusatory remarks a little bit here, let me just say that guys really suck cause they often put girls on the lower rungs of their ladder that ABSOLUTELY do not belong their because we are all superficial and retarded idiots.  So we fail and do things that are unnecessary and stupid just as much.  And we are often too thick headed to actually hear the hint upon hint that Girl in Question usually tries to drop.  Basically, I do not mean to villify women but, from the perspective of a man it’s easier to point out what Girl in Question has done wrong rather than Guy in Question.  Let’s face it: in these situations, almost ALWAYS, both sides are at fault. 

And also, I realize that my post is oftentimes drawing sympathy for Guy Y who gets screwed and not so much for Girl Y.  Once again, understand that I’m writing this post more as a humoristic/sarcastic/bitter/guy perspective that’s not really meant to present an objective non-biased position, but is meant for entertainment while at the same time presenting a notion that I believe does happen. 

So , anyways, what’s the real point of this entire post?

COMMUNICATION IS FRICKING IMPORTANT!

Santa Claus

Disclaimer: If you believe in Santa Claus this is probably not the post for you to read.  Hahaha.  And, also, I have decided to restart the series I started earlier before it was abruptly halted because of controversy.  My reason?   I live far enough away from UCLA now to not have to face the consequences of controversial things I say.  Chyea!

When I was a little boy, my parents tried for one Christmas to convince me that Santa Claus is truly real.  They had never really “talked” about him, but because I had heard about him at school, I decided that I would investigate the truth of these alleged claims that all my little third grade friends would tell me.  “Last year, I got EVERYTHING I WANTED FROM SANTA!”  Imagine the joy and excitement on my face at the prospect of there, yes, TRULY being a Santa that EXISTS!  And not only that…then wtf?  Where the hell were all my presents?  I figured that in order to GET the presents you first had to believe, cause one of my third grade friends convinced me that that is the way that it works.  Well, damn then, I believe!  Now give me my freaking Transformers!  My Legos (THE BEST TOYS EVER)!  My G.I. Joes!

I was a greedy little kid, damnit!  There is this hilarious story of me when I was a little kid where I would cry and cry at the parking lot of my apartment complex when I was like 3-4 years old because I wanted to stay there and play.  In order to “persuade” me to come back into my apartment, my parents would literally leave a trail of my toys on the stairway up.  I would, in turn, enticed by the sparkly toys that I had grown to love so dearly, pick up toy by toy while slowly being tricked back into the prison of my home.  You tricky parents you!!!

On a completely random side note, one time when I was a little kid one of my friends at the preschool told me that one of the best things I could do is pee down the slide.  I was a freaking pre schooler, and to me, that sounded like an excellent idea.  So there I was, a young impressionable little boy on top of the slide smiling with the joys and thrills that any little impressionable boy may sport, and out comes my pre-school wanger on the top of the slide, and then a definite steady stream of bright yellow urine coating the slide for any future slide-patrons to thoroughly enjoy.  Unfortunately, my great plan to make the slide that much more enjoyable for the next person to ride it was thwarted by the yard lady who caught me in the act.  Damn those yard ladies.

Anyways, back to the point.  Armed with a new sense of purpose, and the desire to get my newly minted limited edition G.I. Joe, I decided to ask my parents those tough questions about life.  “Mom, Dad, is there really a Santa Claus?”  With a very suspicious uncertainty, my mom with good and pure intent, shyly asserted “Yes.  Santa Claus very real.”

“Then it is true that he comes down the Chimney?”

“Oh yes, Chimney, yes.”

“…but…we don’t have a chimney.”

The sudden realization dawned on me, and I was suddenly very depressed as a third grader to realize that SANTA will not be able to visit my tiny little apartment without a chimney.  Oh shucks.  My mother, realizing her mistake, made some sort of weird excuse about this or that, but the damage had already been done.  Santa wouldn’t be coming to my house that night.  But then, I couldn’t help but think (I was a complicated third grader who thinks too much…and now I am a complicated twenty-five year old who thinks too much…my how time has changed everything) all the pictures I see of Santa are freaking FAT.  How the hell would he fit down a chimney neways?

So then, because Santa wouldn’t be able to visit my apartment, my parents decided that instead of pretending and hiding presents, they would instead just take us to Wal-Mart every year at Christmas and have us pick anything we wanted.  And so died the dream, the hope, the illusion of Santa.  And Wal-Mart happily filled the void.

However, this kind of got me thinking a little bit.  Is it worth pretending and telling your kids that Santa Claus is real?  For those of you guys who know me, you will know that I am a realist.  Those of you who know me superficially neways.  The people who really know me know that I am a realist on the outside but an idealist at heart.  FOR INSTANCE, I know in my heart of hearts that I will never ever win the lottery.  But…secretly…oh man how I wish and hope and pray and beseech God to bless me with the money.  One time, I told my mother that I really believed I was going to win the lottery.  With that, my mom without even flinching replied in turn…”Yea, me too.  And so far it’s been forty years, and I still haven’t won.”

Talk about a dream killer.

But honestly, is the myth of Santa really worth telling your kids about?  You know one of my favorite scenes in the movie Enchanted, is where the father is giving her daughter a “gift”, that is, a book about successful women in the past.  He is convinced that she will love this book, and instead of giving her what she really wants, he arms her with the “realistic” stuff, shrugging aside her daughters hopes for fairy tales and things of the like.  During that part of that ridiculously superfluous movie (which, although I hate on it I have to say was fairly well made), I was applauding cause FINALLY this little child’s impressionable mind would be set free from thinking about such proposterous hopes.  HAH.  There is no princess, suckah.  And no dragons.  And no witches with a poison apple.  They lied!  THEY ALL LIED!  EMBRACE THE CYNICALNESS NOW!  I am that father who is going to tell her daughter that she cannot be an astronaut because statistically, it is impossible and that she needs to aim for something more realistic like being a pharmacist, or an optomestrist, or an engineer, or a lawyer, or a doctor, or an accountant.  (I just described every asian family in the world).

You want dreams?  What better dream, little girl, than the prospect of slicing the brain of someone who’s dying to try and save them!  Or how about crunching numbers at a desk all day.  OR BETTER YET.  You get to SHOOT air into people’s eyes while they are getting an eye check and watch them squirm in embarrassment because they are freaking out in anticipiation of that ungodly “burst” of air that will soon be annoyingly shot into their eye.  I HATE THAT SHOT OF AIR.  Why the hell do they need it!?  They are EVIL.  Optometrists are EVIL!!!

Seriously though, what if you tell your little daughter or son that Santa Claus IS real, but you are poor.  So here is this little boy or girl, trying with all their might to be the best little boy or girl they can possibly be (because their mothers and fathers told them that if they are good, then Santa will give them anything they want), only to find out that at Christmas…they get a hand knitted Christmas sweater that their mothers (out of good intent) crafted them.  “I didn’t ask for a damned sweater,” the little kid thinks.  While all the other kids got to be evil and pee down slides, I didn’t commit that evil act and I only get a damned sweater!?  WTF?  Meanwhile, the “bully of the school” who constantly peed down the slide and picks on you all day because you are short (SOB) with rich parents is walking around with his brand new limited edition x-ray goggles which have a 25% chance of giving kids cancer but who cares cause everything gives you cancer neways so might as well!   “I want x-ray goggles damnit.  Santa sucks!’  Talk about a traumatic experience!

Futhermore, what happens when, at the mall, the “fake” Santa Claus (who your child dearly believes is real), walks outside to “get a smoke”.  Imagine the look of shock on your child’s face, when she/he suddenly realizes that Santa is an EVIL MAN who smokes.  Or maybe she/he STARTS smoking because they see their role model chain smoking.  I swear, in two years we’re going to see ciagarettes ads with a big, fat, jolly old Santa Claus lighting up a cigarette.  This would be genius!  What better way to kill thousands of people, slyly, than to have a big picture of Santa Claus smoking everywhere!

All this with the reality that, to be honest, your kid will inevitably find out that you were LYING about Santa, and that infact he is NOT real, and when that day comes they will hate you for lying to them.  In one of my debate classes, the “prompt” for the week was to debate whether or not Santa Claus is real.  The class was consisted of a bunch of fifth to sixth graders.  Being concerned that some of these kids may actually believe in Santa, I asked coyly, “So, who here believes in Santa?”  Immediately, 5 hands shot straight up.  “Oh you foolish little idiots,” I thought.  JUST WAIT TILL THIS CLASS IS DONE AND WE’LL SEE IF YOU STILL BELIEVE!  I then proceeded to enlighten my young and ignorant little flock while many of them burst out into tears at the realization that they won’t be getting what they wanted for Christmas, and it does not matter how good they are because Santa isn’t alive.   Just kidding.  I wasn’t going to be the one to tell them he’s not real, so instead we decided to debate about whether dogs or cats are real.  Yes…what a wonderful debate topic.  It’s so one sided.  Cats suck.  (The fury of cat lovers are going to be riddled in my comments section).

I am evil.  Oh yes.  I am.

But…

Then I think that there is something beautiful about believing in stupid things.  That regardless of how absurd, how unrealistic, how calculatedly impossible it is…that believing there is some way, some chance, some small minute possibility that it is true is wonderful.  That sometimes you have to believe in impossible things to even enjoy this life that we’re living.  That sometimes reality isn’t enough…that if we were left to only reality, we would be miserable. 

And then I think about being a little kid.  And how you’ll never get to be a kid again.  How you’re going to have to grow up and face the hardships of life, and struggle through so many difficult situations and uncertainties.  How this is your only real chance to play in the sandbox without a single care, and run around butt naked and have no concern with how the public will perceive you (or be arrested by the cops), and imagine and play crazy games like x-men with all your friends where each of you has super powers and can effectively (with imaginary lasers) blow up walls and stuff, and dream about going to the moon, and…

I, for one, am going to tell my kids that Santa Claus is real.  And until they figure it out, I’m going to let them believe.

With Age…

I’m not sure why human beings “celebrate” birthdays after the age of 21.  Honestly, 21 is the culmination of our youth, and the glorious climatic ending (for some of us, a little bit too much of a glorious climatic ending) to the days you are actually considered young, vibrant, energetic, fun.  You’ve successfully crossed over to the beginning of the end, and the gradual and slow deterioration of all that once made you awesome at a younger age is inevitable. Suddenly, you are not as quick as you used to be. Suddenly, everyone who used to be little kids are now taller than you.  Suddenly…Eharmony…okay, we’ll stop there.  The twenty first birthday is usually the most amazing birthday of them all, too, and so it’s sort of a fitting end.  My twenty first birthday was sooo amazing that I don’t even remember it. Hahahaha.  Just kidding…why would I ever…not…remember…my twenty-first…birthday…

But seriously.  You know what’s really sad?  Little kids that I used to tutor when I was in high school…are now graduating from high school.  Little kids I used to Youth Pastor four years ago are now on the verge of graduating from college.  Wth? When did I transition from hyung to ah juh shee.  *on a side note, Korean illiteracy, which is rampant in the United States probably suggests you do not understand “Ah Juh Shee”.  Well to you I say, LEARN KOREAN BECAUSE WE ARE GOING TO TAKE OVER THE WORLD. Nevermind.  Who am I kidding.  We already own it.

I became that guy.  You know how when you were younger, during those thanksgiving dinners at your church, you would see all those college and college alums coming back from their respective schools, and inside you would secretly think to yourself that they are losers and so freaking old…yes. Now I am that guy.  When I go back home for thanksgiving, little kids look at me and wonder why I am so freaking old…then, they ask me difficult questions about life, trusting that I will have a mature and fitting response to give.  ”Aren’t you supposed to be twenty-four years old,” says Billy the thirteen year old.  ”Then why am I three inches taller than you?” I quickly look around to see if there are any parents around, and then upon the confirmation that there will be no one to witness what I am about to do, I poignantly stick up one of my “special fingers” to remind Billy just how much I love him. I love how with age, I am able to answer with so much more sagacity, says my middle finger.  

Seriously though, I motion for a new cultural phenomenon to sweep across the world.  I motion that from here on out, every birthday after the age of twenty-one should not be a celebration but a “mourning”.  We should mourn the one year of loss.  Loss of sight.  Loss of hearing.  Loss of rich and vibrant hair.  Loss of being able to run around endless hours and never grow tired. Loss of time (cause the older you are the busier you get).  Loss of mobility.  Loss of fast metabolism.  Loss of being able to eat anything you want and never gaining weight, says my stomach who has grown quite considerably since graduation.  Oh man, how the losses pile up.  Yes…let us mourn.

So it is, with this spirit, that I regretfully announce that there are now only two more days till the day that God so graciously provided the world with the likes of talented, amazing, sexy, awesome, and glorious men like Jamie Foxx, Dick Van Dyke, and…you know, Samuel Kim.  Because Samuel Kim speaks in the third person now.  And for those “skeptics” who wonder how could I compare myself with two famous and accomplished actors, LET ME REMIND YOU HOW AWESOME I AM.  I am going to be Twenty-five and ALREADY I HAVE ACCOMPLISHED THREE YEARS OF SINGLENESS! DAMN. Furthermore, I have SUCCESSFULLY moved back in with my mother.  Please.  Hold your applause.  And seriously, I don’t want to gloat, but IN THE PAST YEAR I HAVE GROWN .001 INCHES.  TAKE THAT.  BOO YA KA SHA.  I am awesome!

This is not some slick ploy to remind the world to send me a “facebook” wall-post which is a weak and minimalist attempt at assuring me that you actually DO care it is my birthday.  No, cause I am of the opinion that if you really DID care then you would remember that there is a thirty percent off sale at Bloomingdales, that I particularly like John Varvatos, Theory, and Hugo Boss, that blue is my favorite color and that I could really use some ties right now.  Nor is this some guileful way for me to coerce my blog readers to leave a comment stating “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” (WHICH MIGHT I ADD I AM SO SAD I ONLY GET 6 COMMENTS ON AVERAGE. Back in the days of Xanga I used to get 16 comments and 32 eprops!  Oh…those shiny, pretty eprops…maybe I should convert back to xanga).  No.  Don’t leave a “happy birthday” comment here.  Fill up my facebook so I look more POPULAR.  

I am not trying to trick my readers into anything.  There are no ulterior motives.  In fact, there are only three reasons why I write this blog post. First, I really, really, really want Rajan to remember it’s my birthday and send out one of those sweet love letters through the passionla list.  I am a big fan!

Second, I write this post to remind everyone that you need to grab a hold of someone in college (AND DEAR GOD DON’T EVER LET GO) while you are still young and have an abundant social network so that you don’t end up as an old bitter man like me.  (You know, really quick here, I want to add as a side note that when I talk about my bitterness, and my loneliness, and my anger, and all this junk about wanting a woman I am 99% doing it as a form of COMEDIC relief.  Sure, 1% of me feels the sting of depression and reality creeping up ever so slyly…but I GUARANTEE YOU THAT 99% of me is A OKAY.  Alright. Just making sure I established this.  That when I say these things, I’m only tapping into the literary device of HYPERBOLE. OH YEA.  Score one for UCLA English BA).  

And thirdly, I write this post to…yea.  Thank you all.

You know sometimes in real life when people tell me happy birthday, I have a really hard time showing them that I am really blessed and happy inside.  On the outside, I, for some reason, maintain this exterior shell of BADASSness.  But inside, I am really a sap, and it pleases me just to experience the blessing of having friends who actually care that it is my birthday.  Who actually care that I walk and live on this earth of 6 Billion people.

Thank you all for the surprise birthday parties, even though one of them wasn’t really even a surprise.  It’s amazing that you would even try.  Good effort, you get an A+ for it.  

Thank you…you guys are seriously the best.  And I really don’t require any big surprises…or any big birthday gifts. Hell, I don’t even need a birthday anything, I buy all the things that I want when I want them anyways. If anything, I want to win the lottery on my birthday so that I can bless all of YOU. Cause seriously…so many of you guys have been insanely amazing to me in my life.  I love you guys.  I really, really do.  So many of you have blessed me in numerous ways…

On this particular birthday, my twenty fifth, I want to just…say thanks. I am horrible with birthdays, btw. So I don’t ever expect anyone to remember mine, cause chances are I won’t remember yours. So if I’ve ever forgotten yours…MY BAD.  But take this as a sincere and genuine expression of my gratitude toward all of you.  You guys are amazing.  And I’m glad I know people like you.  Although knowing people like Jamie Foxx would probably be slightly cooler.  Just Kidding…99%.

On Decisions

When I was a child, I believed, with what limited knowledge of the world that I had, that my decisions would not have a lasting impact on my life.  Now that I am all grown up (going to be twenty five years very soon!), and feeling older every day, I realize just how significant certain decisions that I made in life have impacted who I am today.  I mean, none of this rings more true than my decision to NOT listen to my mother’s constant haranguing about how I need to practice piano (a characteristic I am sure MANY asian people are QUITE accustomed to).  One of my biggest regrets in my life is that I did not take my piano lessons more seriously.  Instead of spending hours upon hours soaking in ridiculously stupid cartoons (such as XMEN OR SPIDERMAN) (SCRATCH THAT DID I SAY STUPID I MEANT AWESOME!), I should have been sitting at that piano chair for hours upon hours, grinding through tedious song after tedious song…cause if nothing else, hey, maybe it would have landed me a wife by now!  (Can you say AMEN!?)  Furthermore, I drank lots of coffee, slept at all random and stupid hours, and in general just was not very careful with what I ate and now I am f’in short.  F my life.  A little chunky too.  F my life times two.

Shoulda, woulda, coulda, but didn’t.  I think I find myself thinking that a lot, to be quite frank.  History is such a funny thing, looking back at all the decisions and all the mistakes you’ve made…wishing you could take some of those, even if it were just one, of them back.  Hah, but try as I might, I find out every single day that life doesn’t work that way.  That you have to live with the decisions that you make. 

I have this scary intuition…I don’t know why.  I can just…understand situations and things in an almost supernatural way.  I wonder if maybe this curse (and sometimes a blessing) is the gift of discernment.  Sometimes I’d rather just live in bliss and oblivion.  Knowing, oftentimes, is painful…knowing…oftentimes, makes me franctic, and makes me think illogically when I’m processing different thoughts/ideas.  Knowing is one of my biggest gifts and it’s one of my biggest curses.  I’m not even going to play the false humility card here, sorry.  It’s not that I know everything, or that I’m always right.  But I know that one of the things that I have been blessed with is just my ability to comprehend and understand different things.

I remember when my ex-girlfriend (who is now married, God bless their hearts) told me that (basically) she was cheating on me.  I know technically, it wasn’t cheating.  But basically, it was.  The funny thing is, right before she even TOLD ME about it, I already knew.  She didn’t even have to open her mouth and I already knew.  And the way that I knew was soo retarded.  She had posted on her xanga site, some random gibberish about this and that, and then at the end of her xanga post, she had this one simple sentence, “I am excited about the future.”  And that was all that it took.

I knew she had someone else.  I knew that there was another guy in her life.  I never held it against that guy.  It wasn’t his fault, freak, he didn’t even know me.  And honestly, I would have probably done the same exact thing had I been in his shoes.  But unfortunately, I was the recipient, and not the distributer of the pain in that particular situation. 

Anyways, even though I knew it, hearing it…oh man.  That was something totally different.  The moment that that thought was actually confirmed, pain shot through my heart and my body in ways that I never thought imagineable.  I reacted in such a freaking crazy way…I was throwing the phone, cussing up a storm, yelling.  As a matter of fact, I went back into my room (holy crap I hope she never reads this!) and got this picture album thing that she gave me.  I was soo pissed off and angry that, although the casing was made of glass, I smashed my hand right through it, causing glass to shatter all over the ground and literally dig into my knuckles.  This was seriously straight out of a korean drama.  Blood was dripping down my hands, and although I wasn’t crying (I think I was beyond tears), I felt defeated, betrayed, and well…a little bit humiliated.  That mixed in with the fact that I lost someone that I was so close to, I knew, forever…it really hurt.  And then I found out I had cancer and my parents died in some freak car accident, and pretty much everyone I knew died in some…way…somehow.  (I bet now I’m going to get a buncha concerned comments, YOU HAVE CANCER?  Context, people!) 

I always wish I could take back that day.  Take it all back.  My reaction.  My everything.  I was so dissastisfied with the way that I reacted.  “Why did I let it get to me so much?“  I promised myself that I would never let that happen again.  But then I keep finding myself just…being human…time and time again.  So many times I wish and I desire to have the abillity to look beyond these things.  Haha.  That hasn’t always worked out so well.  It’s quite unfortunate.  Sometimes I would like to think of myself as more than human, some super principled guy who can weather any storm in stride.  Then God subtely reminds me that I am pretty weak sauce by sending more pain my way and watching me squirm in my seat.  He’s so funny.  Hahahaha.

I literally shelled up after that.  I became an emotional hard ass.  We had dated for over a year, and in literally 5-7 days I was completely over her.  It was almost as if I never knew her.  Then, I wouldn’t let too many people close to me, and even when things hurt, I forced myself to make it leave my system within a few days.  The way that I interacted with people was never the same, and more than anything, the way that I approached relationships and dating…was never the same.  I…became…so…emotionally detached in so many ways.  Guarding myself.  Protecting myself.

It really left a lasting impact.  I look back on that relationship, and I wonder “do I regret it”?  That’s such a tricky question.  You learn so much from mistakes…but the learning comes at such a high cost.  For me, it came at so much compromising, so much pain, so much jadedness…everything about me changed.  My very fiber, my very being.  And every time I think about it, part of me feels that tinge of pain, that secret chamber of regret burst open in my heart all over again…

There’s no real resolution to this post.  No real point, nothing that I was really trying to get to.  Except…I guess, all decisions in life come with consequences.  Every decision we make in life comes with regret.  It’s in the package.  When we choose, we give up something else…it’s all about cost/benefit.  But once you choose…you can’t go back.  It’s the nature of the business.  I’m not going to be eight years old sitting in front of a piano again.  I’m not going to be back to my sophomore year before I started dating my ex all over again. 

Such is life.

Girlfriend from the Harvest

One of the sad realities that every post-grad is confronted with is the idea of “limited selection”.  What is limited selection, you might ask?  Well, let me (laced with as much bitterness as I can possibly conjure up) explain what the freak limited selection is.  Limited selection is that plague, that unholy and ungodly phenomenon that occurs when your social network (which used to be quite expansive during college years) suddenly shrinks to almost nothing.  Yes…it is the blackhole of every freaking single person’s life.  You find yourself in a world of NO POTENTIALS.  NO NOTHING.  JUST.  NO ONE.  It’s quite sad.  Suddenly, all the thirty year old women your mom suggests that you should date (and introduces you to) look just that much more attractive to you. Suddenly, Thomas becomes quite an appealing option.  Suddenly, you find yourself “accidently” browsing through pictures on Eharmony.com and Match.com.  Suddenly, you wonder if maybe my sister’s boyfriend method of stalking girls on facebook and messaging them to go out on a date is a viable option…freaking…worked for him.  

Then in your sorrow, and pathetic-ness, reality grips you, and you realize that walking around with someone who looks as old as your mom would probably not be such a hot idea.  Nor ending up with a girl that you find online (whose real name is Bob, that just came out of prison, and wants to have a good time with you) is smart.  Cause…that would count as a very, very bad situation. Definitely.  Very.  Bad.  

Anyways.  

This idea of “limited selection” is such a sad thing.  And it’s compounded even more ridiculously in So-Cal Christian culture.  In So-Cal Christianity you’re confronted with the reality that #1 Most of the girls you know don’t know Jesus and #2 So-Cal Hollywood type standards (both male and female) of what we expect from the opposite sex is just that much more retarded.  Sam Lee says that every man in So-Cal expects their women to have the “heart of mother teresa” and the “body of Jessica Alba” (before she got pregnant…) SO TRUE.  JUST GO TO ANY Pastor’s Conference in So-Cal and LET THAT SPEAK FOR ITSELF.

Dude, and honestly, this is a cross gender thing. Everyone always accuses the male of being superficially charged when confronted with issues like this but, OMG, IT GOES BOTH WAYS. I once had a girl friend (not girlfriend, but girl friend.  Yes.  the space makes a big difference, okay?) who I was interested in, give me (maybe as a subtle suggestion) a list of TWENTY FIVE FREAKING QUALITIES SHE EXPECTED HER FUTURE HUSBAND TO HAVE (DAMN MAN).  ”Must be tall” (FUDGE).  ”Must be good singer” (FUDGE TIMES TWO).  ”Must have muscle boobs the size of basketballs” (I’M SOO SCREWED).  Everyone’s standards in Hollywood culture are INSANE.  None of us want to settle!  THAT CURSED WORD, “SETTLE”!  To settle is worse than to die itself.  

I ate lunch with Jeremiah today and we were talking about how so many people who are NOT living in So-Cal are getting married.  Everywhere!  People get married at like 20, 21, 22, 23 years old.  Shoot, in Alabama, they get married at like freaking sixteen.  I have a friend in Nor-Cal who just got married at 23! WTH?  DUDE THAT’S AT LEAST TEN MORE YEARS OF “THE HUMPTY DUMPTY” THEY ARE GOING TO ENJOY THAN MOST SO-CAL CHRISTIAN WHO MARRY AT 28+.  Scratch that.  NON-NOMINAL 28+ CHRISTIAN PEOPLE, because as made obvious by my old roommate’s roommate (who we will not name here) nominal christians definitely get the benefits early on…

Dang.  Maybe I should convert to nominal Christianity.  HAHA.  Just kidding.  *sob*.

Honestly, these last few years, my prayers for revival have steadily increased because I NEED TO FIND A WIFE.  GOOD LORD.  MY MOM PRESSURES ME EVERY DAY NOW.  IT’S LIKE AN INCESSANT, CONTINUOUS DRONING NOISE IN MY EARS EVERY WAKING MOMENT.   “Sam, when will you get married?  Do you want me to die before you have children?  Oh no…there is no hope for you.  Oh no…let me introduce you to my friend, she just got divorced.  Oh no…we need to pray for you every day.”  Dah!  HOLY CRAP. GOOD LORD!  GIRLFRIEND FROM THE HARVEST IN JESUS NAME!  I receive it!

I know there was a well pool of controversy in my post, and I’m probably going to get killed for even posting this…but really, the only point I’m really trying to make is that I feel like for myself, I’m beginning to rethink what I value and what I cherish in what I want in my future “significant other”.  I remember when I was flying back from Taiwan after a one week trip there, and there was a “lay over” at the Japanese airport.  And I don’t know if it was just that day…or what…but honestly, every girl in that airport was amazingly gorgeous.  I was completely…shocked at how many pretty girls (WHO MIGHT I ADD WERE ALL SIGNIFICANTLY SHORTER THAN I WAS!) were in that airport. 

And I kept thinking to myself, “Damn, I need to move to Japan!”  But…then I couldn’t help but think to myself, why do I even care?  And also, will I miss someone who’s very special, maybe in many ways so perfect for me, just because I’m blinded by unrealistic expectations?  I sometimes wonder…man.  And I hope not.  Look.  Honestly, I’m realistic, too.  I think you do need to be attracted physically to the person you end up with.  And in no way am I saying otherwise.  But maybe…just maybe…you gotta look and dig a little bit deeper sometimes.  Find some gems, and some jewels in places you’d never thought you’d find them…

I know how this business works, it’s not really one of those things that anyone can be convicted about, and no matter what you think or what you hear, you can’t ever really “shake it off”.  We’re sort of…it’s just the way we are, and we can’t even really help it.  It is seriously really hard not to be so obsessed with fleeting and temporal things…

But man.  I really do hope…that I don’t miss her…just because…I’m…blind.

Friends

Basketball till freaking 3 AM in the morning, shooting even when the lights have completely turned off and only we are there.  Laughter echoing through the dead silent of night, as we talk about God knows what, and to be honest, it doesn’t even matter.  Late night pillow talk till we fall asleep (oh freak we are such yuj’s) pretty much everything (and by that of course I MEAN GIRLS!).  Realizing how pathetic it is that we are all getting old and still none of us…have…anyone.  Oh man.  At least we have each other!

Slumber parties, even at the age of twenty four (did I forget to mention in my other post that we’re all pathetic?).  Giggling grown men, harrassing each other and touching each others boobies in the most non-sexual way possible.  (chyea right).  Corona with a lime, just because I said I like it.  Screaming at the top of our lungs as Kobe smashes down a thunderous dunk over an unsuspecting defender.  More giggling as man boobs are being touched, and the infamous “nooooooo” echoing coyly from a…gorilla?  Praying together till the butt-crack of dawn…okay, mostly falling asleep while trying to pray together till the butt-crack of dawn.  Spontaneous worship, just because we can. 

Late night trips to norms, even though I’m the only one that freaking gains any weight from it you bastards.  Two perfect six packs and one nice pot belly.  5″10″, 5′10″, 5′6″.  Fudge.  Maybe if I hang around you guys long enough I’ll get taller.  Oh please, God!

Random email confessions of love, and i quote “i kno this is kind of random and kind of…gay…but i just wanted to take the time to tell you guys that i really appreciate you two.  you guys are really emotional/spiritual pillars in my life and i don’t know what i would do without your guys’ continual support, love, and companionship.”

Carrying each others burdens.  Praying for each other when everyone else probably forgets to.  Learning from each other, and teaching each other all the fine points of life like how to drink an irish car bomb.  Buying tickets to future Laker games cause OMG ARE THEY FREAKING AWESOME THIS YEAR.  Sleeping till 2 PM because we are ridiculous.

Friends.  Real, real friends.  And sometimes a little bit more than friends, too.