Dontpush's Blog

Paging Doctor Freud…

2006-10-10T11:51:00.000-07:00

Here's my dream last night:

I was in a desert, running through some sort of castle, being chased by a King that was looking for me. I believe the King was chasing me because I was trying to take him down. I’m not sure whether this was so I could take the throne, or just because I felt like he was corrupt and needed to be disposed of. Also, I was somehow related to him. He was a close relative. He could’ve been a new Nuclear family member other than my sister, mother or father. It was as though he was an older brother or father, though not my dad. The castle itself was sandy. There was a parade that I was ducking in and out of. I escaped the castle and ran towards Las Vegas, where I was looking for a Whole Foods, but I was still being chased. This is interesting because when I went to Las Vegas over the summer, I had a great time with my friend, Mr. Andrew Lawlor. There was one point when we were out there, where we were between Gold Coast and Palms, and it was late afternoon, and we were about to cross a street. We started talking about how great Vegas was. Lawlor said he could live there and asked me if I could. I said probably not because it only represents one part of me, I’d want an area where I could find a Whole Foods, etc., and Vegas seemed to me a place that was pretty homogenous in terms of the types of people, while I like those people, I like the company of other people that don’t live in Vegas (at least in the Vegas we saw), and I’m affected by my surroundings. So anyway, back to the dream. I’m looking for Whole Foods, and I find it. Around this time, I’m expecting the king to come by this block, and I see my sister and my father looking for me. I hop on their truck (I dunno why it was a truck). Off to the airport we go. We make it safely to the airport, and now we’re out of harm’s way. While at the airport, waiting for my plane to escape the king, my sister, my father and I decide to play the slots there (for those of you that haven’t been to Vegas, yes, they have slots everywhere, including in the airport, gas stations, and drug stores). So, next thing I know, I hit the jackpot. $14,400. And they’re all Sacagawea gold dollars. I’m initially upset about the Sacagawea gold dollars, but then I try to exchange them. Luckily, I am allowed to exchange them. At this point, I wake up.

Okay, so now I’m asking all the amateur psychologists for their interpretation, either real or humorous, or both. So have fun. I already have my own, and Lawlor doesn’t count, because I told him my interpretation, unless he has one that's different. But I’d love to hear what anyone thinks.

A few things to note:

The dreams that I remember are often about people chasing me. Usually they don’t have endings as awesome as this one.

I signed up on FullTilt poker two days ago, and watched Lawlor play Omaha 8 hi/lo for a couple of hours before I went to bed last night.

Call me Kaiser Wilhelm, 'cause I'm on a roll.

2006-10-09T15:31:00.000-07:00

Tennessee was pretty cool. I ate tons of good food, my dad’s house was pretty cool, golfing was (as I mentioned earlier) great, and last but certainly not least, I enjoyed big boobs, bluegrass, and barbeque at Dollywood.

So, what am I up to now? Still caddying, and going to bartending school very soon (probably within the next two weeks, depending on the weather). I’ve also started studying for the LSATs (despite the test being something one supposedly can’t study for). I’ve been seeing somebody weekly for ADD stuff, which is going swimmingly now despite a slow start. I switched doctors and that’s been a revelation, but also for once I’m accepting things I’ve fucked up and dealing with them and/or moving on. In many ways I feel like I’ve been stuck in neutral for 4 years (maybe reverse is a better analogy), and it’s amazing what screwing up can undo, and how screwing up for that length of time actually changed my self-perception. Perceived complete incompetence is self-fulfilling. Staying in partial denial doesn’t fix it, either. But luckily, those mindsets aren’t permanent, and facing mistakes doesn’t mean I’m a failure, just that I’ve failed. Once I started hunkering down and doing things for myself, those perceptions began to change. For the first time since 7^th grade (for real) I’m actually taking my medicine every day, but even when my prescription runs out before I can get a refill, I don’t feel like I’m incompetent without it, like I used to, Blogs are actually a good barometer of how things are going in my life. When I feel like writing, either creatively about others or emo-style about myself, or even when I don’t, but still manage to churn something out, things are going well. I’m typically uncommunicative, about either successes or failures, and that can lead to a number of problems, especially when I’m depressed and not thinking with my head on straight. I think I’ve mentioned this before, but fuck all that.

I’ve become addicted to the show: “Good Eats” with Alton Brown. I’ve mentioned this to anyone willing to listen, and strongly encourage anyone who has even a remote interest in food to give it a good 2-3 episode shot. “Good Eats” is one part Bill Nye the Science Guy, one part MacGyver, and one part your friend with a dorky sense of humor who knows far too much about things (including pop culture). I bought a mandolin for cutting food, and have done a few interesting dishes. My gratin has come out the best so far, and I’m making baby back ribs on Wednesday.

My Mets are playing like champions, and though everybody counted them out at the beginning of the postseason because of their weak starting pitching, I was still hopeful because of their incredibly deep and stellar pen. They may not be able to match 7 innings of Chris Carpenter with another starter, but they can assure a lights out 3-4 innings from their pen every night, and that’s just as good. The Mets are 78-4 this season when leading in the 6^th inning, that should give you a good idea of how deep and talented their pen is. Still, the team I’m most scared of is the A’s, I think the A’s might be better, just because their pitching is THAT good. Even so, as Bill Simmons pointed out earlier this week in his postseason blog, Barry Zito thrives on getting batters to swing at pitches out of the strike zone, and this is why he pitched so masterfully against the Twins. If the Mets are fortunate enough to make it to the World Series, and face the A’s, they should have one approach against the A’s ace: Patience. The Yankees have used this tactic against Zito with wild success over the past two years. In Zito’s three starts against the Yanks in 2006, his line is: 8.16 ERA, 15 BB in 14.1 IP. In two starts in 2005, he fared little better: 7.59 ERA, 4 BB, 10.2 IP.

Keep it real, everyone, because gangs of wild adolescent male elephants are stampeding with abandon and even raping rhinos. You can’t even make that up.

"Tennessee"

2006-10-08T09:53:00.000-07:00

Take me to another place
Take me to another land
Make me forget all that hurts me
Let me understand your plan.

Tennessee.

-Arrested Development (the band)

Probably my favorite Arrested Development song. Nevermind, I’m kidding. I actually liked “Mr. Wendell” better, with that silly guy in the background making those noises after every time they sang “Mr. Wendell.” Nobody’s coming with me on this one, huh? Moving on.

I went down to Tennessee to visit my pops, and I was a little apprehensive before I went. First off, my dad has a girlfriend now, which means he moved on pretty quickly considering the divorce isn’t final. And she lives with him. She was traveling for the week so my sister and I didn’t have to see her, but the residue of her existence was everywhere. The house was adorned with 29 different pumpkin chotchskies* (I spelled this wrong and MS Word suggested “cockshies” but I’m not connected to the internet right now so I can’t find the correct spelling of the word I’m looking for, nor the definition for cockshies, so now my imagination runs wild). So yes, the pumpkins - the elephant in every room of the house. Pervasive and a little too Martha Stewart for my sister’s and my New York snarkiness (fuck you MS Word, this one IS a word, not Yiddish). But yes, I was apprehensive because I wasn’t sure I’d know how to deal with these little reminders that life was completely different now. I was also a little apprehensive because my dad wanted to golf with me. I’d played golf once this summer before I went down to Tennessee, and I wasn’t very good. See, when you’re in Rochester 8 months a year for 4 (okay, 5, with some time off) years, and you spend one of those summers in Ecuador, the fact that I was a 6 or 7 handicap before I went to college doesn’t really matter. Golf takes a certain keeping up with, it’s half riding a bicycle, half a deteriorating skill when you don’t practice. Moreover, the mental game is strenuous, and I hadn’t been playing that part of it well. Instead of golf being a rewarding experience, it was frustrating for me, because I measured myself against the player I was from back when I played every day. So, playing three times down in Tennessee could be a disaster. Not to mention how my dad was bound to act on the course, he doesn’t exactly have the laid back attitude on the golf course that might put me at ease. Anyways, I had four goals going in:

Flirt with shooting 90

Play the mental game well

Don’t question yourself

Enjoy yourself

I get out there my second day in Oak Ridge, ready to play, having swung my clubs once all summer. Next thing I knew I was doing all the things I knew I knew how to do, but had never quite executed. I was channeling my muscle memory on my golf swing, not letting negative thoughts into my head, and managing myself really well. Every part of my game was pretty good. My expectations started to change, I started ratcheting them up. Next thing I knew I was holding myself to my old standard, and getting frustrated over little things I wouldn’t be able to do that I didn’t expect to do before I got on the course that day. Here’s the thing though, I stopped myself. It was as though I was living Plato’s chariot for those four hours that first day. I was tempering passion with reason, and playing them off each other. I felt like I was looking at myself from above. I stopped myself from making mistakes. I would hear my brain say “well what if the putt breaks less than I think” or “what if I pull it left on this shot” and I would stop, and let that thought pass, and think “just execute, if you mess up, you mess up, but do what you know, don’t try to compensate for something that is beyond your control” It worked. When you let those thoughts control you, you lose, in both golf and life. My mind drifted to Rilke out on the course:

And your doubt can become a good quality if you train it. It must become knowing, it must become criticism. Ask it, whenever it wants to spoil something for you, why something is ugly, demand proofs from it, test it, and you will find it perhaps bewildered and embarrassed, perhaps also protesting. But don't give in, insist on arguments, and act in this way, attentive and persistent, every single time, and the day will come when instead of being a destroyer, it will become one of your best workers - perhaps the most intelligent of all the ones that are building your life.

I got high out there. I got high on my self control. I got high on pushing myself, on bettering myself, on correcting mistakes before they happened. I was meta-Nick. I saw myself from the outside. I analyzed myself without letting the “me” into it. I saw everything that was going on. I was in complete control. I shot 84 that day (I would’ve been happy with 94), and only got better as the week went on. I love golf again. Moreover, that way of thinking has crept into other parts of my life.

* it's tchotchkes (thanks squidtrick)

People from work...

2006-10-03T16:12:00.000-07:00

Just to give you an idea of the people I work with, here's a relatively true story I wrote creatively for a little-known magazine I just submitted. I'll delve into more personal stuff later, but I wanted to finish this piece and share it here, so, here's my "Letter to Chuck":

Dear Chuck,

If I were capable of falling in love with a 50-something black man, you’d be on the short list. If I was a salesman selling friends (I’m sure there’s a market for it), I’d probably call you hardened-everyman-chic. There’s something beautiful in your idiosyncrasies. In a culture of vanity where most people consider their pearly whites showcases, you still consider them tools, and it shows. You have about five left, they’re yellow, and you use them to bite the filters off of cigarettes you bum from other caddies. It eliminates the middleman, you say, embracing the efficiency of your actions. I agree.

You certainly break the mold, Chuck. You’re the only born-again I know who can wake up at 9 pm, get called out by some friends to a pool hall, show up, only to find out it’s a pussy eating contest, stay, and revel in it. Your scheming mind even came up with a theory of how to win when they hold it next month. Since they judge the winner by how hard the person makes the girl scream, you’ve cooked up a plot to grow out a five o’clock shadow to make her scream louder. It takes a great mind to beat the system in a pussy eating contest, Chuck, and you’ve certainly got what it takes.

Your stories of dubious veracity are endearing and often hysterical. Everyone questions how true they are, but please don’t stop telling them. I’m not sure I believe the one about when you were working on a construction site, and fell 11 stories down an elevator shaft and survived, though. When doctors told you that you wouldn’t walk again, you defied them. You even stopped going to your free physical therapy, telling your therapist that caddying was going to be your physical therapy, since you could rehab and enjoy the outdoors at the same time. You don’t need the money, you got $2 million dollars in the settlement. Maybe it was only 2 stories you fell down, or 1 story, maybe those floors were actually stairs in a bar after knocking back a few, or maybe you were drunk on the job. Maybe your physical therapist was really your bartender. The facts of the story don’t matter though, the truthiness of the story lies in how it conveys your warrior spirit. You’re a tough man, Chuck, and we all know that.

We also know that you’re really a man, a man among a family of men. I ran into you on the train once, and you expounded to me about your love of public transportation. You met a nurse on the train who kept staring at you for 10 minutes. When this got you perturbed, you calmly asked her, “Excuse me miss, is there a reason why you’re staring at me like that?” When she told you that you looked like a man she once took care of, and you subsequently found out that man was your uncle, she had but one question for you: “I just need to know one thing, Chuck, does it run in the family?” With that, you dropped your jeans right there to show her that your family’s endowment was certainly a dominant trait.

Chuck, I hope you now understand that my love for you runs deep, deeper than you gave it to that nurse. I remember every story you’ve told to me fondly. I smile inwardly when I think of you and Deacon Jones pounding a beer on the golf course when he threatened reenacting his infamous “head slap” if you didn’t drink with him. But it’s been a month since I lent you that money for a taxi, please dip into your settlement money and pay me back.

Love,

Nick

Oh what a day... (Part I: The Lottery)

2006-06-28T09:00:00.000-07:00

The morning of June 27th was clear and sunny, with the fresh warmth of a full-summer day; the flowers were blossoming profusely and the grass was richly green. The people of the village began to gather in the square, between the post office and the bank, around ten o'clock; in some towns there were so many people that the lottery took two days and had to be started on June 2th. but in this village, where there were only about three hundred people, the whole lottery took less than two hours, so it could begin at ten o'clock in the morning and still be through in time to allow the villagers to get home for noon dinner.
-Shirley Jackson, "The Lottery"

The morning of June 27th was far from clear and sunny, and I'd probably describe it as more of a stickinees than a "fresh warmth." I woke that morning with a slamming headache and allergies out the wazoo. I really didn't want to get out of bed, but because I was unsure of my jury duty status I had to call in to check if my number got called. I had had two hours of good sleep, I was praying the answer was no. Fumbling for ibuprofin, loratadine, nasonex, and a glass of cold water, I popped pills as I listened to the recording and held my summons like so many guys I work with hold their Win 4 tickets in anticipation during the announcement of the midday numbers. My number was called, and this was, of course, more of a Shirley Jackson lottery than it was the aforementioned Win 4. Despite my notoriously short attention span, I kept listening to the message, and thankfully so, because they told me the juror parking lot is closed and I have to bring enough quarters to get my car parked for the day (this is county court, not city court, so we're talking White Plains here, and for all you Westchester denizens, you know how hard it is not just to find parking in White Plains, but to find 12 hours meters in White Plains). So, as you can imagine, I'm really on cloud nine at this point. My headache is not subsiding, and now I realize I can't even hear out of my right ear because it's so clogged up. Luckily I have three dollars in quarters stacked up, so at least I don't have to fumble around for that.

Let's just say other things happened before I left, because I don't want to get too far into how shitty my morning was, so I picked up my MRE/Clif Bar and drove to White Plains. I brought all my allergy medicine with me, plus my ibuprofin, because I knew it was going to be that kind of day. After driving around a little bit, I realize that because I'm early, parking in the Galleria is easy, and in some areas, they actually have 12 hour meters. At this point, I think my luck just might be turning - my headache is in remittance as well. As I go through the checkpoint and metal detector into the court house, the geniuses don't confiscate my camera phone like they said they would, further proof that my day was getting better. These triumphs were merely fleeting however, when I realized I forgot my pen, and paid 1 dollar(wtf?) for a pen, and 3(!) for a Red Bull. Now I'm sitting in a large auditorium 30 minutes early with about 200 other people waiting in collective silence for our respective fates. No one is talking, because obviously we don't know each other. I tried my hand at the crossword in the Juror News, or whatever the heck it was called, but found it wholly unchallenging and stopped in 15 seconds. As my eyes scan the room I think about all the different types of people it contains and realize this really is a fair cross-section of the Westchester community, minus the illegal immigrants.

After what seemed like an hour, the lady in charge walks into the room and does her best impression of a comedian. "Good morning everyone" she says, and without a pause she answers herself in a mock cue for a collective response that most of us don't hear after we leave elementary school "good morning" she repeats in a sing-song voice with a half-smirk. Nice, I think, we're being treated like children, only minus nap time and snack time. At this point I remember my clif bar and begin eating it in blatant disregard to the "No food inside" sign I saw outside the room. Oh, but folks, her comedy wasn't finished... "My, you all look happy to be here this morning. It can't be that bad, can it? You're doing a civic duty!" A civic duty that will likely cost me a weeks salary and the ire of my boss for not showing up. Oh, and did I mention I have to earn all my money at this job during the summer? Being a per-diem employee, of course, I'm not compensated... Of course, nobody laughs. Immediately I start thinking of ways I can get out of this... I love cops? I hate cops? I write down that my major was "Law and Economics" and I've got a speech fully prepared about how I subscribe myself to The Chicago School of Thought in economics, which is likely to get me dismissed by any ambulance chaser worth his salt. I'm pretty proud of myself for thinking that one up, and while my mind is wandering I almost don't notice that all these self employed people are trying to get out of jury duty by saying they're losing money. It seems far-fetched to me, but I decide to join the exodus of 10 people into the other room to argue individually to yet another government lackey about why we shouldn't have to serve. I already have one postponement due to being a student so I doubt "I'm a caddy" is going to work (they only allow 1 postponement typically, if you are to request a second it has to be because of a medical condition or family emergency), but I figure it's worth a shot, and I want to stand up and walk around anyway.

After waiting and seeing 5 of the 9 people in front of me succeed in their quest to get dismissed, it's finally my turn. I turn on the charm that I save for these occasions, and miraculously, it works. I tell her that if she doesn't let me out in 30 minutes, I will have lost at least $200 for the day (completely true, Tuesdays are outings at the triple C), and given the nature of my work, I need this money to get through the rest of the year (half true). I get a six month postponement (to my shock) and the lady is very nice to me and then says "Go make that money" (at this point I realized it was probably a little crass to mention a dollar amount).

I leave knowing I'm going to make it to work in time for the outing, and all of a sudden my day is a lot sunnier. On the way to my car I cough, the result of which is a feeling like my head is going to explode right above my eyes, a reminder that all is not well yet.

A slice of paradise

2006-04-04T00:22:00.000-07:00

So, the question at hand is: what makes a truly dollaz cheeseburger?

A wise man (okay, Dennis Leary) once said that the United States should be divided into Smoking and Nonsmoking. I agree to an extent, except I think that the U.S. should be divided into Rare/Medium Rare and anything cooked more than that. If you get medium, I can talk to you, but you better bring a lot more to the table.

First thing's first, like I said, Medium Rare. It better be thick, juicy, and dripping onto the hot toasted buns. There's something about those juices getting all over the buns that really turns me on, just makes me want to grab it and attack it. Charbroiled is prefered, but if you do this, you might want to sear the burger first, get those juices locked in so you don't lose them in the cooking process. A little onion powder and garlic powder also helps, but really, the key is subtly. And I need my burger to be at least 1 inch thick, anything less and it's not satisfying, and probably done too well for my taste. Anything more than medium rare and you just can't taste the burger like you should. If you let it sit in your mouth and caress your tongue and you can't conjure images of a throbbing cow heart, you're doing it all wrong.

The buns. They gotta be toasted, and unlike real life, there is such a thing as too big when it comes to buns. The bread needs to be hearty enough to soak up the juices (see above) without turning into the pink mush Eddie Murphy talks about in his famous houseburger rant, while not having a distinct taste or mass that overwhelms the sanctity of the burger. This is a surprisingly difficult equilibrium to reach, and it's one that's oft-overlooked during prep.

The cheese. You can protest, and I can shoot you.

The bacon. Lets face it, this girl needs some rib meat. If it's too crispy, it's pretty much ruined. If you think this is gross, you should reevaluate eating a hamburger altogether. My grandfather always said: "You gotta die of something, might as well be [fill in the blank]" (He was also fond of calling St. Patrick's Day "Amateur Night" but I don't think he coined either of these).

The substitute players:
The onions. Carmelized, no doubt.

The BBQ. Before you purists get your panties in a bunch about using condiments on the burger, let me explain quickly. I like a hint of BBQ sauce on it. I want the smokey kind of BBQ sauce, to give it that - er - smokey flavor. One needs to be careful though: slather it on, and you might as well not put a burger in between the buns.

Ketchup, Lettuce, Tomato, Raw Onion, Mayo, Mustard and the like are all needless dressings that detract from the overall taste of the burger. Put all this shit on it, and you might as well have your burger served to you in a box. Our two eyes placed at the front of our face are what give us depth perception, this makes us predators. If you want to eat all that pussy shit on your burger, and ruin the religious experience that is eating half raw cow with a little aged cow milk and pig on top, move your eyes to the sides of your head and don't talk to me.

Everybody's workin' for the weekend

2006-03-06T13:31:00.000-08:00

My weekend peaked around the events of Saturday night. First, I submit to you, the Farrell 'fro:

The Farrell 'fro is dead. I shaved my head Saturday night. I joked that I went from looking like an alcoholic bum to a functioning member of society. I have everyone fooled now.

I think I like the clean-cut better, I'm not constantly worrying about where my hair is or how many cowlicks I have (just as a tangent, isn't the word cowlick great? If you think about where it came from, there was probably some kid with a cowlick, and somebody commented that it looked like a cow licked their head. The mental image is just terrific, I can see it in a comic strip). I actually feel less dirty, and more respectable. Despite the fact that those that cut my hair were drunk, it's the best home cut I've had. It's a really good buzz. I'll post a picture when I get it. I think it's quite dashing.

Probably my four favorite Rochester alumni (Mayan, Baccash, Goose, and Bowser) visited over the weekend, which is part of what made Saturday so great. We were all on the same freshman year hall, along with Andrew J. Lawlor and Peter Hong Choi. The only piece of the puzzle missing was Choi.

Just a little tangent about Choi, as some of you know it's been my birthday every day for the past ten days on Facebook (because I keep editing my personal info). This has lead to many amusing situations. Of them all, the following one is probably the funniest. Pchoi had me blocked on his buddylist for the past few weeks leading up to this incident because I annoyed him (he does this intermittently, he's a very "tough love" kind of dude). Here is the conversation between us:

PeterHongChoi signs on
PeterHongChoi: Happy Birthday!
Dontpush351: hehe, thanks, but...
Dontpush351: it's not my birthday
Dontpush351: I've made it my birthday on facebook every day. Sorry.
PeterHongChoi: What?!
PeterHongChoi: Liar. I unblocked you for this?
PeterHongChoi signs off [immediately]

For those of you keeping score at home, my real birthday is 5 June, 1983.

So, I spent Saturday night at a party with them, shaved my head, and made a Lenten pact with housemate and friend Scott Field to go to church every Sunday and abstain from eating meat every friday until Easter. The situation this arose out of was pretty funny. Another classic friend from up here, Sam Scrimshaw (a tangent on him in a few), asked Scott Field during a game of kings what he was giving up for Lent. Scott, having forgotten about Lent, didn't give up anything, and this bothered him, so he immediately decided to give up not going to church on Sundays. I learned of this whilst hanging out with Field on the porch. Immediately realizing I hadn't given up anything either, I piped up that I'd like to do the same thing. Now, this is slightly problematic. Scott and I can easily say these things at a party and not follow up. This is not to say that Scott and I are nearly as unreliable as some people. ::smug grin:: So, knowing this, we came up with the idea that if we missed mass at all, we would be beggars on the streets of Rochester for a whole day ("like jesus" as Field said), and give all that money to charity. We shook on it, so don't expect us to miss any mass. I like Field a lot, and he's the perfect person to go to mass with, mostly because we share the same intellectual/philosophical/spiritual beliefs.

Allow me a slight religious tangent here. The aforementioned situation is funny, because Scott and I probably acted as we did out of "Catholic guilt." I have a hard time defining myself as Catholic, and it's difficult, in today's day and age, to be religious. That being said, I do consider myself a spiritual person. I guess you can call me a "lunch-counter catholic" I consider myself Catholic, but pick and choose some of the doctrine as it applies to me. Generally speaking, I'm probably more Buddhist than anything. I have strong morals, believe in forgiveness, a "higher power/energy" (though I'm skeptical that the common conception of "God" applies to what I believe in), the quest for knowledge, truth and self understanding, I think that power lies within oneself, and that making peace with oneself and doing good for good's sake is paramount. I think that organized religion is incredibly dangerous because it is usually misunderstood. Most importantly, I believe in the synthesis of faith and reason. My spiritual/philosophical beliefs are pretty much a shepherd's pie of Plato (most notably the allegories of the charriot and the cave as behavior models and guides), Socrates (Know thyself, Socratic method of inquiry), Jesus (almost all of his doctrine), Buddhism (specifically the writings of Thich Nhat Hanh, and the general emphasis on the importance and "how to" of meditation that christianity pretty much misses the boat on), William of Occam (Occam's razor, the separation of church from the realm of science, and his abstention from making truth statements), Epicurean ethical hedonism (that doing good for others is optimal, because it will make you happier), , Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenence (synthesis of faith and reason), and a dash of Rainer Maria Rilke (self-awareness and personal power).

For those interested, I attended all my classes and did all my work over the past week. Go me. I'm well on my way to changing many of the things I don't like that I do, and I'm on a pretty dollaz voyage of self-discovery right now. Things are pretty good.

So, back to the Sam Scrimshaw comment to wrap up my post. Mister Scrimshaw prides himself on the fact that there are VERY few internet hits for his name. Thus, if you look on google, this will probably be one of the ten or fewer hits you get for "Sam Scrimshaw." I am happy to say that I am lifting him from relative internet obscurity. Let this be a lesson, Mr. Scrimshaw, you can't hide from the future.

Possible next post topics (in no order of personal preference):
Flavor of Love
Plato's Cave
The ideal cheeseburger
My Econometrics test
My (actual) trip to confession?
How great Paola's is
Senator smackdown: McCain vs. Obama

If you have a comment, vote in the comments section.

More Wheaties, Less Frosted Flakes

2006-02-23T03:47:00.000-08:00

So, this isn't easy, but, to break my own ice, I'll begin by giving an excerpt from my favorite comedian, Eddie Izzard:

Everyone fucking lies! When we were kids, we lied our heads off! "I didn't do it! I was… I wasn't… I was dead at the time! I was on the Moon! With Steve!"

And your Dad's going, "I haven't even accused you of anything yet."

"Oh, all right. Well… what is… what's the que… well, I… I… well… what?"

"Did you brush your teeth?"

"No… yes… what's correct? Anywa … yeah. I was dead at the time!"

Then when you're more mature, you do start telling the truth in odd situations. "I'm sorry, I've broken the glass, I've broken this… is that expensive? I've broke it. I'll pay for that, I'm sorry." And you do that so people in the room might go, "What a strong personality that person has. I like to have sex with people with strong personalities." "And I've broke other things, I smashed that, and that's gone, and I've just thrown the cat out the window and..."

On one level, I believe that completely. Being able to admit mistakes is a trait I admire in friends, but one I rarely exhibit. I'm always embarassed when I fuck up, but often too embarassed to admit it, which compounds the situation. I'm not out to get laid, or write a hit song, but I am out to admit my mistakes and be okay with the fact that I've made them, because I know I can rectify those situations.

I've been letting people down with commitments lately. So, in the spirit of St. Augustine, Usher, Earl, and a great many 12 steppers, these are my confessions (just when I thought I said all I had to say...I'm a huge dork):

I missed two appointments with a friend for lunch where I was supposed to drive with him to get food, and then avoided talking to him after because I was embarassed. (I subsequently apologized but I'm relatively sure he's still upset at me).

I flaked on dinner twice in a row, and lunch the subsequent day with another friend, after which she assumed I hated her, which couldn't be farther from the truth.

I've consistently shown up 20 minutes late for appointments

I haven't been calling people back in a timely manner (if I do), and I've actually taken to intentionally not recharging my phone so I don't have to deal with calls.

I've been missing a ton of class.

I've got $450 dollars in library fines (I hate to say it, but this one's kinda funny, and I'ma take care of it today, the good news is that 90% of that gets erased once I return the books, which I haven't lost).

I got two traffic tickets over the summer because my inspection sticker wasn't up to date at a routine checkpoint, I then admitted I couldn't find my insurance card, thus eliciting the second ticket. I wouldn't be admitting this if I'd bothered to respond to them, which I haven't, and that's why it's listed here.

Gotta pay the cable bill. (don't ask)

Well, I don't like being a flake, and it's ridiculous when I compound problems by making them bigger than they are, so I'm going to fix this. Those are the things I fucked up, and they already happened, but it doesn't stop me from admitting it, apologizing, fixing the situations, and righting the people I've wronged. It's not the mistake that's such a big deal, it's the aftermath and how I handle it.

So I'm taking out a shot glass, pouring myself a shot of bourbon, and toasting anyone I've ever flaked on. Cheers!

Fantasy Baseball Debate: How Do You Manage to Win?

2006-02-21T04:35:00.000-08:00

My good friend Matt Mayan and I decided to do dueling fantasy baseball strategy posts. We’re generally rivals, as not many people can match our intensity and resourcefulness (because they probably prioritize what’s important in life better than we do) in the leagues we play in together in baseball. Despite our rivalry though, we’re still able to trade between each other often, as it can be hard to find trading partners in our league. So, we asked each other a question: How do you manage to win? (get the pun? lol!)

I will try to answer that question here. It starts with a good draft strategy, continues with choosing your resources carefully, and finishes with an objective self-assessment of your teams strengths and weaknesses so you can win in the playoffs, and at the end of the week in Head-to-head leagues (which I consider the best way to play).

First is the draft strategy. There are a few very important things to focus on in your draft preparation. First, look at guys who had strong second halves to the previous season. This will generally indicate the player is able to make adjustments, and maybe that adjustment is permanent/will carry over, depending on your personal assessment. Second, know the relative values of each position. This will change in every league you play in. In an 8 team league, how you value a 2B is much different than in a 12 team league. Listing a depth chart for each position will go a long way in helping you understand which positions are feast (1B, often) and which are famine (usually catcher).

Don’t ditch a category in the draft, unless its saves, and don’t ditch a position, unless it’s Catcher. There are always 10 closers that pop up on FA, and you can always get them. Pitchers stats generally fluctuate, so going high on a closer isn’t usually prudent (but there are always exceptions, and every rule I list here has them, this one’s name is Mariano Rivera). Moreover, with your last 2/3 picks in the draft or FA, you can snag the top set up men, and while I’m not going to demonstrate it here, 2 or 3 of the top set-up men will equal the stats of a cy young pitcher in vulture wins, Ks, and ERA/WHIP usually you can get 17 wins 240 K a 2.50 ERA and a 1.00 WHIP, with only a small amount of luck in picking three guys. And remember, you can always get the closer later in the year. It’s okay if your team is incomplete at the beginning of the year, as long as you’re sure you drafted the best value. Have faith in your in-season decision making

Know the shallow positions, and earmark players you want at those positions, both the studs, and the sleepers. If you can’t get one stud, get two sleepers, but be flexible at the beginning of the year for the player who gets the hot start. Even if a Junior Spivey, Rich Aurelia, Shea Hillenbrand, or Brian Roberts can’t put together those same stats over a full career, let alone a full season, somebody, even if it isn’t you, will think they will.

Early on, focus on hitters. Year-to-year, hitters performances are MUCH more predictable, you’re better off drafting 1 pitcher in the first 8 rounds than you are drafting four. And now, excuse me for a second while I figure out where the mouse in the kitchen is, this one sounds like its on steroids. Okay, I’m back, and guess what? It’s not a mouse, it’s a bird, and it’s in the ceiling. Anyway, back to fantasy.

Don’t be afraid to have weaknesses, and don’t panic about them, as long as you’re really strong in some areas, you can make up for your weakness via free agency directly, or even adding to your strength from FA and trading from it.

Okay, so those are a few hints for the draft, the next important things are the first month of the season, and within the week management. Picking up and dropping hot players daily and having roster spots available to allow you to do this will allow you to find a gold nugget or two on FA, and there ALWAYS are gold nuggets. The first month is most crucial in finding them.

Within the week management is something so crucial that not everybody does. If you’re 5 stolen bases behind for the week, ditch your speed guys. If you’re crushing in power, pick up a Dave Roberts for the weekend (one year I picked him up and dropped him at least 8 times specifically for this reason). Same with pitching, if you can’t win wins but you have the edge in ERA, and you think you can hold it, bench your SPs. Know the strengths and weaknesses of the team you’re about to play and your pitching matchups. A more economical strategy for handling pitchers than wasting your picks on stud pitchers that have a high attrition rate, don’t be afraid to look a week ahead, find out the decent pitcher on FA that is pitching AT Comerca Park, AGAINST the Tigers, and you can pencil him in for 7 IP, 2.79 ERA, and 6 K. Free agency, especially in H2H leagues, is your best friend. Playing pitching matchups is a great way to make up for having an inferior starting staff. I’ve gone to two championships (lost both) with bad drafts and clearly weaker rosters, on the strength of weekly pickups and riding hot streaks. Focusing on these subtleties can take you to the championship no matter how disastrous the draft.

If there’s something to take away from this to help you win: your team is never stagnant, you can always adjust, watch the waiver wire, play to your team’s strengths, and use specialists at the end of the week to cover up for the weaknesses. If you build on sound principles in the draft, there is nothing standing between you and victory.

This made me laugh...

2006-02-18T14:05:00.001-08:00

Darren Daulton has fallen off the deep end.

Just a little nugget from it:

"We only know what we can perceive with our five senses. I have been, for whatever reason, awakened to other realms that are achievable by all of us. All I want to do is try to convey to everyone what I have witnessed.

"I don't care if people believe me or not. If people want to take and run with it, fine. If they don't, that's fine, too."

Apparently these ideas have been stewing for years. And the Daily News says he put them on paper while serving three months in jail last summer.

He even has completed a 32,000-word manuscript, which is tentatively titled If They Only Knew.

Making rules

2006-02-17T03:19:00.000-08:00

I’ve recently had a bunch of thoughts running through my head after some news clippings, classes, favorite books, and discussions with friends. As best I can define it, the question I’m grappling with is the merits of anarchy, and I can easily see how this post could become 10 pages long. It’s a little bit of anarchy, a little bit of religion, a little bit of art, a little bit of infinity, a little bit of libertarianism, and a little bit of free market capitalism. It’s a question that’s been bothering me, and the question is this: To what extent, if any, are restrictions good for man, and how should they be implemented?

I’ll look at these cases, and divide them up into separate posts:

Howard Stern and Seinfeld

St. Augustine

Sinyavsky/Tertz, Dostoevsky, and Russian readers

Globalization and the liberalization of markets

The Prisoner’s Dilemma/Infinity/Ronald Coase

An article in the Washington Monthly about Bush’s Consumer Society

I may end up tying a couple of these things together, for instance, I may pull Augustine into the Russian lit question with Dostoevsky, or move Dostoevsky out of Russian lit and put him with Augustine and talk about religion and the will. So, I’ll rant about those and a couple of other things I can’t think of right now, but I’ll be posting this over the next week. I’ll start with Howard Stern, because his switch to Satellite poses some interesting philosophical questions.

So, is Howard Stern better or worse for his move to satellite? Some people think worse. I like the question of the artistic line here. The argument that Howard Stern is better when he has an enemy and a line to flirt with in his show is legitimate, but I don’t think it’s solely what makes him funny and intriguing. The thing colonizers feared most was a martyr, and in many ways, Stern was able to portray himself as such, much the same way Fidel Castro constantly points to American imperialism and the U.S. blockade of Cuba as the “real” reasons why Communism/Socialism is failing in Cuba with a relatively high degree of success. People need and enjoy an enemy, and often it brings out the best in them (more on this in a later post though). I also think Stern inspired passion in people by creating a fear their freedoms would be taken away, whereas those freedoms are generally taken for granted when unthreatened. In satellite radio, it may be harder to inspire that passion and intrigue, without the inherent threat of loss of the freedom (this is another argument I will expand upon when I talk about Russian literature's appeal, in another post). The idea that people treat freedoms this way thread in philosophy, de Tocqueville talked about it in Democracy in America as a characteristic of Americans in the ways they treated their freedoms, (i.e. somewhat haphazardly, and with a slight arrogance). He contrasted that with the way people dealt with their relative lack of freedom in other nations, i.e. much more passionately because they lacked freedoms. I’m paraphrasing here because one of my copies of de Tocqueville is in Bronxville and the other is in a storage room in Port Chester. There are better philosophers than de Tocqueville who dealt with this more directly, but not having a deep modern philosophy background, that shall be left for the comments section. More on this philosophical issue in later posts, anyway.

So, the question becomes, is Howard Stern as interesting on satellite? And if he’s less interesting, is it because of the absence of boundaries? Is it because of the absence of an enemy? Of creative parameters to work within?

I haven’t listened to Stern yet on Satellite, so I can’t answer those first questions, but he immediately realized the perils of that last question and set up a loose “no curse” rule for the show because his writers were dealing with the new found freedoms by writing way too many curses into the sketches and as he put it, they were no longer funny. Part of the intrigue of Stern on the radio was, "How close to the line can he get?" and this created a sort of suspense. But, at the same time, part of what made his writing so good on the radio was finding ways to say what he wanted to within the parameters he had. The best examples I can think of are memorable lines from Seinfeld: "He doesn't do EVERYTHING," "yada yada yada," "the moves," "shrinkage," and "master of his domain" are great and memorable Seinfeldian lines that I can think of off the top of my head wouldn't be as funny if the restrictions weren't there. Look at those lines, to a 7 year old, they mean nothing. To an adult, in the context of the show, they mean, respectively: pleasuring a woman orally, sex, pleasuring a woman orally again, penises shrinking in cold water, and masturbation. The challenge brought out the best in the writing. And oftentimes you couldn't believe Seinfeld was talking about this topics without saying them at all. Stern's show on the radio was the same in many ways. And his writers, he thought, were putting together crap without the restrictions.

This is not to say that they wouldn't adjust, they would/will adjust to this. Nor is Stern's popularity grounded in this to an large extent. Stern will still be funny and amazing because his talents are reach far beyond playing with the line and casting himself against an enemy, but the restrictions are a large part of what made him so great, and his ability to still get his message across despite the restrictions is why so many people loved him. In a world without threat to getting the message across, the love will be smaller.

This is why I struggle so much with the question of libertarianism. Libertarianism/complete liberalization at its core is good, but can we handle it? As a people, we struggle with being able to handle it. People like Stern can, but his writers can't. I think this is generally true of the population, and something you see when economists set up actual Prisoners Dilemma or Stag Hunt experiments with groups of people. People don't act as logic dictates, and for this reason, we need a structure that in some ways, protects people from their stupidity. Generally, I like the rule Stern set up. It’s ironic that he griped about freedoms and left “terrestrial radio”, and then curbed the freedoms loosely after he left. But, of course, you can curse if you want, you have the choice to, he just wants you to know that, as an employee, it’s a dangerous road to walk down and your writing will be looked upon poorly if you do. This kind of libertarianism with loose “rules” allows people to still make decisions, but they have guidelines above them that they can choose whether or not to follow and accept the consequences if their crossing the imaginary line was completely egregious and not worth it.

Setting gray lines creates a slippery slope, possibly, but I think it’s the way society should be structured. I guess what I’m saying is that, in a responsibly free society, it should discourage drunk driving, but not punish it unless there’s an accident, and if there’s an accident, attribute fault to the intoxicated driver because of their risky behavior. Much like Howard Stern discourages cursing in his new show.

The only thing you have to fear...is yourself

2006-02-08T23:02:00.000-08:00

Had dinner with Papa Farrell tonight, and it went surprisingly well. I had this pit in my stomach for three days about his visit. He can be very tempermental, but it was mostly me guilting myself for not cashing a check he wanted me to cash and not being completely up to date with everything I have to get done (changing my address officially for my creditcard and bank account and transferring my Purchase credits). It's also wierd how something like a ticket for an expired registration that I can't find can weigh on me. I leave these types of things hanging and they nag at me. I hate loose ends but I have so many sometimes.

Anyway, the point of this is my dad, who has changed from a ticking timebomb to a sagacious zen master. Guess good things come from this divorce. It's nice that I finally feel like I can be straight with him, something I've never felt with either of my parents before. I started talking with him about all the stuff that's been nagging me lately, especially in terms of the way I deal with things and this level of anxiety about things that I've never had before. I spent so much time over the past few months worried about my mother or my sister or all the bullshit going on with my parents' divorce and how things are going to work out, and sometimes it seemed like nothing I could do would make things okay, or even marginally better. But then seeing my dad happier, and hearing him talk about overcoming issues with his temper/guilt/anxiety/drinking was kinda empowering. Sometimes I see the things I don't like about myself as unchangeable, and it was nice to see somebody so close to me who dealt with similar issues get over them later in life.

So, I ate dinner with my dad, went to wegmans and starbucks with him, he bought steaks for me and my housemates, and I talked with him about the mets, rangers, his life, my life, etc., and I really felt like I could be myself and didn't have to be anybody to him. And that was really really awesome.

Black on Black crime

2006-02-02T15:17:00.000-08:00

I'm going to say it - Terrell Owens is right. Set aside the fact that he's annoying. Set aside the fact that he's an egomaniac. Set aside the fact that he shouldn't have said what he did, whether or not he's right. Forget everything that gets under your skin about his personality and look at the facts: Donovan McNabb isn't a leader. He's a slightly above average quarterback whose record in big games is shoddy, and who doesn't have the tenacity or mental strength to win it all.

First, let's examine the assertion that he's not a leader. T.O. divided the clubhouse, right? Yes, T.O. was the cause, but he was just throwing stones at a glass house. Okay, you've got a wide reciever that's a loose cannon. He publicly implicated McNabb in the Superbowl loss, that wasn't such a smart move. But in that superbowl, Owens came back a early to play in it after no doctor cleared him to play. He signed a waiver before the game saying he wouldn't hold the Eagles responsible for any injury, had 100 yards in catches in that game, and was playing on a broken foot because he wanted to win so badly. He brought the Eagles within inches of victory, and yet, in the second half, McNabb threw two INTs in Patriots territory, looked terrible in the two minute drill and threw up in the huddle. McNabb was almost solely responsible for the Eagles choking.

If you're McNabb, maybe you put yourself in T.O.'s shoes, see how badly he wanted it and that he was just frustrated that he put himself out on the line and you let him down. Or maybe, you're so offended that you don't talk to him all summer and brood until he apologizes. Sure, it was wrong for Owens to chew out McNabb in public, and if Owens was the QB and McNabb was the wide reciever, it would be inexcuseable. But if you're the team leader, you don't wait for somebody to come to you. You go out and mend that fence. You try to put yourself in the your teammate's shoes and you take the burden on your shoulders. If you're a QB, you have to be the bigger man. That's your responsibility. This is why McNabb is not a leader. He acts hurt. He calls criticism against him "black on black crime." Sure, T.O. was such a racist when he said Favre would be a better quarterback for the team. Give me a break. McNabb likes to cast himself as a victim. That's why the lockerroom was divided.

Don't take my word for it, listen to Hugh Douglass, who fought T.O. to defend McNabb in the lockerroom. "Keep in mind that McNabb doesn't want to lead," Hugh Douglass said today. Hugh Douglass is an employee of the Eagles. Hugh Douglass had McNabb's back a few months ago. A quarterback needs to be a leader, and if an employee of the franchise who typically defends McNabb says he isn't, he isn't.

McNabb isn't physically tough either. He sat out the season with a sports hernia. Funny how it comes out today that Brady played the second half of the season with one, and the Patriots were successful. Favre would've been a better leader of the Eagles.

Maybe Rush Limbaugh was right. I'm sick of the media getting on the moral highground, defending McNabb and trashing T.O. It's easy to like McNabb and hard to like T.O., but if you look at the facts, Owens is right.

Upon closer examination...

2006-01-21T18:31:00.001-08:00

Okay, most of this is going to be about sports, but sports in name only...these are two pretty interesting things I found this week:

Christening the parking lot. If you don't have an NYT account, here's the synopsis: Everybody's favorite husband of a baseball player's wife, Kris Benson, got traded to the Orioles. Was the aforementioned wife, Anna, upset? Of course not. This brings her one step closer to fulfilling her dream of "christening the parking lot" at every major league stadium. Yes, that's an actual quotation. Oh Anna, you classy, classy girl. Read the whole article, it's worth setting up the free account for it.

And while I love to be the grammar police, I found more than one thing suspect about this injury article on Marty Turco. "Marty's a got a bit of a sore, don't know what it is, groin, hamstring, something," Tippett said. "It's just a little tender, and we decided to give him a night off. ... It's more precautionary than anything." Thanks USA Today, for mistranscribing that, but if I focused simply on that, I'd be beating around the bush. They're being pretty ambiguous about his injury, which is uncommon in sports. Does anybody else think Turco should check himself into a hospital under the pseudonym Ron Mexico to check if he has an STD?

So today I start my homework for the semester and watch lots of football. I think I'm going to take it easy, maybe show up at the elmwood for a little bit, but try to keep it a rather light day on the partying front. Gotta stay on the right foot and take calculus for the first time in 5 years this semester. And please, no you + me = us jokes.

Goals for the week are to get my transfer credits FINALLY settled, contact places about part time jobs, and go to the gym three times.

Two more quick notes:

The new strokes CD is dollaz.

You haven't heard music until you've heard Miles Davis play A Night in Tunisia.

"The evidence will show that it was part of the show"

2006-01-14T23:03:00.000-08:00

So, I was up late and couldn't sleep, and learned about this guy. Which made me think of the urban legend debunker website, Snopes, and something I had read recently there on tort reform. It's pretty funny that the guy died trying to duck from shrimp thrown to him by a hibachi chef. I'm sorry, call me a sadist, but it is. And it's ridiculous that often times in our society we are so quick to blame other people for what is clearly an accident. But it's good to know that in this system he won't win, even if you believed that chain e-mail you got 5 years ago. And I don't know why, but it seems like something out of a satire that the representative from the restaurant said, "The evidence will show that it was part of the show." Maybe I'm the only one that finds that quotation equally funny. Onto other things.

Some random thoughts I had this evening:

I was watching one of those Capital One: No Hassle commercials, when it occured to me: David Spade is quite possibly more annoying than Carrot Top. I didn't think that was possible. If anybody likes David Spade, please refute me here.

I really like wikipedia. (I think this every night at one point or another). And just in case you've seen it all, there's a Six degrees of wikipedia. I kill time like no one. Ever.

Sam Adams Winter Ale is terrific. If you haven't tried it, try it. You'll never drink Busch again.

Go Steelers! Ben Roethlisberger is going to show his mettle tommorrow.

John Elway is an over-rated quarterback who never won without Terrell Davis. He had less touchdowns than interceptions (73-80) in what should have been his prime (1988-1992). Without a terrific runningback, you're looking at an average player. You can look it up.

But Steve Young just might be the best QB ever. Go ahead, challenge me.

After a quick nap I'll be back in the R-O-C.

and it's not funny like on television

2006-01-14T16:34:00.000-08:00

First off, I'd like to apologize to Pchuz and Alaw, both of whom wondered if they were snubbed in my first post when I commented on what my blog would not be. Pchuz claims he won't link me in his blog until my blog is worthy. Now, onto sorta complaining...

I was walking home today, quite annoyed and upset at my state of affairs. I went out with my mother without a raincoat and only an umbrella to see a movie that was sold out (Woody Allen's Match Point, which I've been dying to see). The temperature dropped about 10 degrees while we were out and it started pouring; I was ill prepared for this. During the 15 minute walk back, these are a few of the things that happened: my mom stopped twice to tie her shoe, she dropped her ice cream - the paper bag she was carrying it in got soggy and it fell out - and she didn't notice until a block and a half later, she insisted on going back and getting it (which I ended up doing because she looked pretty pathetic, despite finding it hysterical), she wore her raincoat inside out the whole time, she chattered incessantly like a child with ADD about 10 topics a minute, and when we got back her shoe was STILL untied and she had lost her keys. It made me wonder who was taking care of who. Not that I'm all mature or anything.

But, after my initial annoyance, some things occured to me. First, the lines from a Less Than Jake song popped into my head, "Those times you crack, with no laugh track \ And it's not funny like on television." All our families have these little quirks, and sometimes you have to start taking care of your parents sooner than you expect. Though this pisses me off 50% of the time, I really don't mind too much. I want to see her happy, it would just be easier if I got a little more respect from her for what I do for her. Walking back with the ice cream I had found for her, literally in a ditch, with her giggling about it, was frustrating, but I didn't need to do it.

A lot of it is perspective though. Part of the reason she was able to laugh was because she had no clue how freezing my hands were or how annoying it could be to look around for 5 minutes for an ice cream on the ground, but part of it was legitimately being able to laugh at her mistakes, which I admire in a certain way. It's something I don't do enough. And if David Sedaris can make a living making fun of his crazy family, maybe I can too. Or not. But looking at it a little differently certainly could give me peace of mind.

And anyway, life isn't that bad. I've got a six pack of Sam Adams Winter Ale, crackers, and garlic and herb goat cheese, and the Pats game is about to start. That, and I go back to Rochester tommorrow. w00t.

Because I'm a follower (exhibitionist?)

2006-01-13T14:26:00.000-08:00

Since everybody is doing it, I figured I would. More or less I'll ramble and talk about my life and things I find interesting. Occasionally I'll rant about things that annoy me, but hopefully it will sound insightful or Seinfeldian instead of like whining. There's no specific topic here, but I love sports (Mets, Rangers, and Football in general) as well as politics and media, and looking at things on a deeper-than-surface level, so it will be about those things.

I started this blog for a few reasons:
1. I haven't been writing much lately, and I can see the deterioration of my skills.
2. I haven't been communicating much with people, especially my family, because of the crazy shit that's been going on.
a. The simple act of presenting my thoughts for others to scrutinize makes me think about those things differently and hold myself more accountable (a sort of Heisenberg's principle of blogging).
3. It's more for me than for anybody else. Sometimes I have no clue what's going on with me, but seeing it on "paper" helps me understand it better.
4. I welcome any opportunity to become more like pchoi with open arms.

I didn't start this blog to:
1. Complain
2. Talk about girls
3. Post pictures of Mischa Barton's bloody crotch
4. Try to be like my brother Billy