3yrs.
Today's weather is eerily familiar, the Mid Atlantic's version of that day in Minnesota.
I miss Minnesota. I miss Paul. Somedays, like today, I miss knowing that the work I do touches millions. Say something important to someone important, seems like the right thing to do today.
The best speech about Paul and one of the best I've ever heard.
I cry nearly every time I hear it, and get goosebumps every single time. You don't have to, I just do.
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Friday, October 21, 2005
Aaron Leavy: Trendsetter.
At 6PM this evening I will be conveyed to New York by that most noble of steads: the Chinatown Bus. Washington DC has a Chinatown, though the veracity of that title is highly questionable. There are a couple of Chinese restaurants and a few grocery stores. But mainly there is the MCI Center. I have to figure that a parade of hockey fans sorta overwhelms what little Chinatown-y vibes may exist.
On the other end (in NYC) I'll get to see Mark and Stacy and of course Brian. Should be a good weekend. I have no idea what we'll be doing. But I'm hoping it's cheap.
I'm bringing my BRDM jersey. Time for some guerilla brand awareness in the mecca of hip. Soon some asipring designer will dredge up from the recesses of their memory the image of an oh-so cool guy with a wonderful red machine logo...and I can only imagine what kind of brilliant gear will result from that. Soon everyone will want to wear our jersey. We will become, as Paul says, more of a marketing phenomenon than a team. Or maybe not.
On the other end (in NYC) I'll get to see Mark and Stacy and of course Brian. Should be a good weekend. I have no idea what we'll be doing. But I'm hoping it's cheap.
I'm bringing my BRDM jersey. Time for some guerilla brand awareness in the mecca of hip. Soon some asipring designer will dredge up from the recesses of their memory the image of an oh-so cool guy with a wonderful red machine logo...and I can only imagine what kind of brilliant gear will result from that. Soon everyone will want to wear our jersey. We will become, as Paul says, more of a marketing phenomenon than a team. Or maybe not.
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
The Wheels on the Bike Go Round and Flat.
This week I've decided that, as a time and money saving measure, I will bike to work. My bike, purchased in Fort Collins in order to create another point of shared harmony with Jen, is heavy and in general not so great. But it is certainly good enough to meet my most basic bike needs. Ie, I can sit on it, and traverse the distance between home and work in a time that is less than or equal to the bus. That's it. Those are the needs.
Yesterday I get up and am feeling great about this decision. I get this sanctimonious feeling as I pass buses on the way to work. Thinking about how good I am (me personally) for the environment, and how fit and buff I'll be after all this biking. How rewarding this will be. It's a glorious morning, crisp and cool. I start to head down 16th and encounter a long hill, but as with everything this morning it's all downhill. Nothing to stand in my way.
Yeah, well that's not entirely true. Even as I'm enjoying this great morning, I realize, my tires need some air. Well that's not entirely accurate. It's my tubes inside my tires that need some air. And well, that's not entirely correct because some suggests that there is any air in my tubes to start with. As I finish coasting down the hill I realize that the normal rhythm of the bike tires on the ground has started to have a little more bass than usual. I'm sounding more like Snoop than I'd like, as there is a fairly consistent (every revolution as it turns out) sound coming from my back tire. My tire separated from the rim.
I am forced to abort my glorious ride and address the harsh reality that I'm walking my bike to work. So I walk the last 8 blocks to work and lock my bike. Locking my bike is a challenge as the U-lock is too short as is the cable lock. So the brilliant inter-locking patterns of my mind, whereby I am completely secure become something more akin to a taut tie between my bike and the rack. But I digress.
After trying with Paul's help to inflate the tube (no luck, though a special thanks to Paul for the effort), I take my bike to the bike shop. It is then that I meet the biking equivalent of every indie rock record store clerk. He is dismissive and basically scoffs at my bike. As we are walking out he says, in a strangely confrontational yet paternalistic tone: "Given 6 hours I could make this a good bike." I say, oh, what's wrong with it. Knowing full well several things, but wanting an appraisal, not a reprisal. Well I get the second. His answer: Oh...everything, but you don't care. You don't care do you. I feel like my pedatrician is accusing me of replacing formula with gin. I'm trying to be a good bike owner (having now spent nearly 80 bucks on a bike worth 150, just to lock and inflate it). So I pay and leave. The bike ride home is nice. The hill on 16th mocks me on my return trip. Every push of the pedal reminds me that for every stretch of downhill, there's always an uphill on the way back.
Yesterday I get up and am feeling great about this decision. I get this sanctimonious feeling as I pass buses on the way to work. Thinking about how good I am (me personally) for the environment, and how fit and buff I'll be after all this biking. How rewarding this will be. It's a glorious morning, crisp and cool. I start to head down 16th and encounter a long hill, but as with everything this morning it's all downhill. Nothing to stand in my way.
Yeah, well that's not entirely true. Even as I'm enjoying this great morning, I realize, my tires need some air. Well that's not entirely accurate. It's my tubes inside my tires that need some air. And well, that's not entirely correct because some suggests that there is any air in my tubes to start with. As I finish coasting down the hill I realize that the normal rhythm of the bike tires on the ground has started to have a little more bass than usual. I'm sounding more like Snoop than I'd like, as there is a fairly consistent (every revolution as it turns out) sound coming from my back tire. My tire separated from the rim.
I am forced to abort my glorious ride and address the harsh reality that I'm walking my bike to work. So I walk the last 8 blocks to work and lock my bike. Locking my bike is a challenge as the U-lock is too short as is the cable lock. So the brilliant inter-locking patterns of my mind, whereby I am completely secure become something more akin to a taut tie between my bike and the rack. But I digress.
After trying with Paul's help to inflate the tube (no luck, though a special thanks to Paul for the effort), I take my bike to the bike shop. It is then that I meet the biking equivalent of every indie rock record store clerk. He is dismissive and basically scoffs at my bike. As we are walking out he says, in a strangely confrontational yet paternalistic tone: "Given 6 hours I could make this a good bike." I say, oh, what's wrong with it. Knowing full well several things, but wanting an appraisal, not a reprisal. Well I get the second. His answer: Oh...everything, but you don't care. You don't care do you. I feel like my pedatrician is accusing me of replacing formula with gin. I'm trying to be a good bike owner (having now spent nearly 80 bucks on a bike worth 150, just to lock and inflate it). So I pay and leave. The bike ride home is nice. The hill on 16th mocks me on my return trip. Every push of the pedal reminds me that for every stretch of downhill, there's always an uphill on the way back.
Monday, October 17, 2005
It makes the world go 'round, and makes me nutty
It's pricey to live in Washington, DC.
And not really even for the reasons you might assume. I pay less in rent here, than I did in Seattle. I don't have a car, and therefore don't have to pay for gas. Though I do still have to pay for insurance--the car lives at my parent's house, it's like after years of unfaithful service it's been put out to stud, to procreate and annoy future generations of car owners. But having friends and little time to cook, that destroys my budgets like a paper airplane in a forest fire. Summary of expenses of the past 24 hours.
Metro to frisbee: 1.35
Metro from frisbee to lunch: 1.35
Lunch (ordering very cheaply): 10.71
Bookstore browsing: free
Movie (matinee): 6.75
Metro home: 1.35
Metrobus to work: 1.25
Breakfast burrito: 3.85
Lunch: 5.45
Metro to Paul's: 1.35
Bike lock: 34.00
Bike reflector: 12.00
REI membership: 15.00
Total for the past day and a half: 94.41
And it's certainly not as though I'm leading an extravagant lifestyle. I'm grateful that to be with my friends I don't have to go and drink, because I'd be even poorer. And yes the bike lock was bought for several good reasons: 1) to promote me exercising more, 2) cutting down on Metro fare. And the bike reflector is so I don't die, which seems like an expense worth making.
It's just annoying. I spend so much of my time worrying about money. I don't know what it's like to be unconcerned about it. I always have this fear of some horrible expense, or being fired, or some other financially destructive wave. It's really fucking annoying, frankly. I don't spend lavishly. I don't travel. (much). I don't drink (much). I don't smoke (at all). I don't buy Cds, one in the past 6 months. I spend less than 6 bucks at lunch nearly every day. I don't use a car. and yet I always seem to find some way to fuck up my budget. One month it was replacing my glasses. One month it was paying for the next 6months of car insurance. There's always something. I'm sick of it.
I usually try to have these posts have some arc, some whining, some good part, some funny, some earnest. This one doesn't have those features, it's really just me being frustrated with the cost of living, and not sure what to do. I guess I will have to wake up earlier and make lunches. That'll help a little. And I figure if I bike a few days a week I can save maybe 20 bucks a month that way.
Sorry for the tirade. I'm sure the next post will be much happier. And things will get back to normal.
And not really even for the reasons you might assume. I pay less in rent here, than I did in Seattle. I don't have a car, and therefore don't have to pay for gas. Though I do still have to pay for insurance--the car lives at my parent's house, it's like after years of unfaithful service it's been put out to stud, to procreate and annoy future generations of car owners. But having friends and little time to cook, that destroys my budgets like a paper airplane in a forest fire. Summary of expenses of the past 24 hours.
Metro to frisbee: 1.35
Metro from frisbee to lunch: 1.35
Lunch (ordering very cheaply): 10.71
Bookstore browsing: free
Movie (matinee): 6.75
Metro home: 1.35
Metrobus to work: 1.25
Breakfast burrito: 3.85
Lunch: 5.45
Metro to Paul's: 1.35
Bike lock: 34.00
Bike reflector: 12.00
REI membership: 15.00
Total for the past day and a half: 94.41
And it's certainly not as though I'm leading an extravagant lifestyle. I'm grateful that to be with my friends I don't have to go and drink, because I'd be even poorer. And yes the bike lock was bought for several good reasons: 1) to promote me exercising more, 2) cutting down on Metro fare. And the bike reflector is so I don't die, which seems like an expense worth making.
It's just annoying. I spend so much of my time worrying about money. I don't know what it's like to be unconcerned about it. I always have this fear of some horrible expense, or being fired, or some other financially destructive wave. It's really fucking annoying, frankly. I don't spend lavishly. I don't travel. (much). I don't drink (much). I don't smoke (at all). I don't buy Cds, one in the past 6 months. I spend less than 6 bucks at lunch nearly every day. I don't use a car. and yet I always seem to find some way to fuck up my budget. One month it was replacing my glasses. One month it was paying for the next 6months of car insurance. There's always something. I'm sick of it.
I usually try to have these posts have some arc, some whining, some good part, some funny, some earnest. This one doesn't have those features, it's really just me being frustrated with the cost of living, and not sure what to do. I guess I will have to wake up earlier and make lunches. That'll help a little. And I figure if I bike a few days a week I can save maybe 20 bucks a month that way.
Sorry for the tirade. I'm sure the next post will be much happier. And things will get back to normal.
Sunday, October 16, 2005
Bright Smile.
A fairly normal weekend this one. The amazing thing is how fortunate I feel to have weekends (at all) like this. I'm certainly in the right place these days.
At 6P I left work and walked to my bank, dropped off my check and wandered over to 2nd Story books. I feel, irrationally, like I'm cheating on a lover whenever I go to any bookstore in DC that's not Kramer Books and Afterwards. I look around to make sure no one I know sees me going in. I had about 20 minutes to kill before I met my friends at the Metro. I spent the time eagerly and gingerly going through hundreds of maps, lithographs and woodblock prints-- most under 30 bucks. When I get a little more money, or a little less self-restraint (more likely of the two options) I'll pick up a few lithographs to decorate the house. I had this long time where I found lithograpsh really lacking. But after spending time at the Met and really looking at the works and thinking about how they are constructed, I became something of a convert. So it'll be nice to get one of those for the bare concrete walls of my apartment.
After 2nd Story I met JKD, Liz, Jesseca and Amanda. We were heading to Virginia to see Josh Ritter and the Frames. I have burned Josh cds for Amanda (when we were in Minnesota), and Jesseca and Liz. I'm like the Johnny Appleseed of Josh Ritter.
We jumped on the Metro and headed deep (well sorta) into Virginia. I, for one, don't like Virginia. I don't like visiting, I don't like being there really at all. It's a place that just feels weird and for reasons that I cannot fully articulate I just don't like it. It's a bit like trying to explain the feeling right before you sneeze. It doesn't really make sense or compare to any other feelings...but I have that kind of feeling about Virginia, it's like something awkward, loud and phlegmy is going to happen. Yuck.
We get to the venue, get some tix and head out for Thai food. Great Thai food. Good conversation. The evening is working well.
Getting into the venue is tricky. I have my messenger bag and am forced to throw out my bottle of water, and I have to argue and plead to avoid having to throw out the tupperwear container with Paul's lasagna from the night before (sadly I forgot to refrigerate it). JKD is unable to bring in a thermos, apparently there is some great concern about contraband liquid in the venue.
The concert itself is amazing. Josh comes out in a long coat. He's in good voice, energetic. and it's clear that my friends are enjoying themselves. Which was probably my biggest concern. I think some people may have gone mainly to humor/placate me. And knowing that they weren't going to regret that decision was great. Mixed with cheap PBR, familiar songs and good friends the evening was a pleasure.
Josh is, as ever, smiley and dopey. "Our little rockstar," as JKD calls him.
The Frames are tremendous. High energy. Clearly having fun. They cover To Be of Use by Smog (with the memorable lyric, "Most of my fantasies are of making someone else come.") They cover as part of another song Pure Imagination from Willy Wonka. It's a great fucking evening. Just a hoot.
Saturday:
I wake up early. Far too early. Put on some Petey Pable (Raise Up) and get ready for Raze's game. I head over to JKD's and meet Amanda and Libby there and we drive to Virgina (grrr) for a game. I'm fired up. I am sick of losing and decide that I am going to be dominant in this game. I am going to get open all the time, I am going to throw well, and most importantly that I am going to shut my guy down on defense. And you know what, I did those things. It felt incredible. I played really strong defense and it was, for the first time, more fun than offense. And yet. We lost.
A wonderful leisurely drive back to the District under a heroically blue sky. I got home and just hung out for the rest of the day. Made some guacamole, drank a beer or two, watched Almost Famous.
Later in the evening I went to Jesseca's friends' party. The preponderance of Jesseca's friends in the district are Jewish. I walked into a room filled will relatively short, semitic looking guys with scruffy beards, with names like Micah and Juda and Chaim (okay that I made up, but seriously it was an incredible assemblage of 20 something Jews). There were 3 Brandeis grads. I'm glad I started growing my beard earlier in the week, otherwise I'd have been cast out. It was a good time. Good conversation, good beer, great goat cheese. A fine evening. Sadly the hosts of the party were throwing the party as a last hooray before they move. I'm quite certain I'd be good friends with them, and it's sad to know that's not going to happen now (or at least less likely).
Sunday:
Pickup at the Polo fields. Decent turn out. The energy I mustered for defense on Saturday was wholly absent on Sunday. I did have spiffy new socks courtesy of Ms. Sproat. Quite nice. Sadly my play was considerably less spiffy than my socks, but a good time was had by all. Afterwards headed to Dupont for lunch/dinner, book shopping, and a movie (The Aristocrats). Now I'm going to remove my contacts, pour myself a Magic Hat, plant myself on the 14yr old makeout couch and remind myself why I loved The Great Gatsby as a 10th grader.
I lead a blessed life, and I try hard to remember just how fortunate I am. I have friends whom I adore. People to learn from (and make eggs with , and get socks from, and make stupid jokes to)...life isn't too shabby for Aaron.
At 6P I left work and walked to my bank, dropped off my check and wandered over to 2nd Story books. I feel, irrationally, like I'm cheating on a lover whenever I go to any bookstore in DC that's not Kramer Books and Afterwards. I look around to make sure no one I know sees me going in. I had about 20 minutes to kill before I met my friends at the Metro. I spent the time eagerly and gingerly going through hundreds of maps, lithographs and woodblock prints-- most under 30 bucks. When I get a little more money, or a little less self-restraint (more likely of the two options) I'll pick up a few lithographs to decorate the house. I had this long time where I found lithograpsh really lacking. But after spending time at the Met and really looking at the works and thinking about how they are constructed, I became something of a convert. So it'll be nice to get one of those for the bare concrete walls of my apartment.
After 2nd Story I met JKD, Liz, Jesseca and Amanda. We were heading to Virginia to see Josh Ritter and the Frames. I have burned Josh cds for Amanda (when we were in Minnesota), and Jesseca and Liz. I'm like the Johnny Appleseed of Josh Ritter.
We jumped on the Metro and headed deep (well sorta) into Virginia. I, for one, don't like Virginia. I don't like visiting, I don't like being there really at all. It's a place that just feels weird and for reasons that I cannot fully articulate I just don't like it. It's a bit like trying to explain the feeling right before you sneeze. It doesn't really make sense or compare to any other feelings...but I have that kind of feeling about Virginia, it's like something awkward, loud and phlegmy is going to happen. Yuck.
We get to the venue, get some tix and head out for Thai food. Great Thai food. Good conversation. The evening is working well.
Getting into the venue is tricky. I have my messenger bag and am forced to throw out my bottle of water, and I have to argue and plead to avoid having to throw out the tupperwear container with Paul's lasagna from the night before (sadly I forgot to refrigerate it). JKD is unable to bring in a thermos, apparently there is some great concern about contraband liquid in the venue.
The concert itself is amazing. Josh comes out in a long coat. He's in good voice, energetic. and it's clear that my friends are enjoying themselves. Which was probably my biggest concern. I think some people may have gone mainly to humor/placate me. And knowing that they weren't going to regret that decision was great. Mixed with cheap PBR, familiar songs and good friends the evening was a pleasure.
Josh is, as ever, smiley and dopey. "Our little rockstar," as JKD calls him.
The Frames are tremendous. High energy. Clearly having fun. They cover To Be of Use by Smog (with the memorable lyric, "Most of my fantasies are of making someone else come.") They cover as part of another song Pure Imagination from Willy Wonka. It's a great fucking evening. Just a hoot.
Saturday:
I wake up early. Far too early. Put on some Petey Pable (Raise Up) and get ready for Raze's game. I head over to JKD's and meet Amanda and Libby there and we drive to Virgina (grrr) for a game. I'm fired up. I am sick of losing and decide that I am going to be dominant in this game. I am going to get open all the time, I am going to throw well, and most importantly that I am going to shut my guy down on defense. And you know what, I did those things. It felt incredible. I played really strong defense and it was, for the first time, more fun than offense. And yet. We lost.
A wonderful leisurely drive back to the District under a heroically blue sky. I got home and just hung out for the rest of the day. Made some guacamole, drank a beer or two, watched Almost Famous.
Later in the evening I went to Jesseca's friends' party. The preponderance of Jesseca's friends in the district are Jewish. I walked into a room filled will relatively short, semitic looking guys with scruffy beards, with names like Micah and Juda and Chaim (okay that I made up, but seriously it was an incredible assemblage of 20 something Jews). There were 3 Brandeis grads. I'm glad I started growing my beard earlier in the week, otherwise I'd have been cast out. It was a good time. Good conversation, good beer, great goat cheese. A fine evening. Sadly the hosts of the party were throwing the party as a last hooray before they move. I'm quite certain I'd be good friends with them, and it's sad to know that's not going to happen now (or at least less likely).
Sunday:
Pickup at the Polo fields. Decent turn out. The energy I mustered for defense on Saturday was wholly absent on Sunday. I did have spiffy new socks courtesy of Ms. Sproat. Quite nice. Sadly my play was considerably less spiffy than my socks, but a good time was had by all. Afterwards headed to Dupont for lunch/dinner, book shopping, and a movie (The Aristocrats). Now I'm going to remove my contacts, pour myself a Magic Hat, plant myself on the 14yr old makeout couch and remind myself why I loved The Great Gatsby as a 10th grader.
I lead a blessed life, and I try hard to remember just how fortunate I am. I have friends whom I adore. People to learn from (and make eggs with , and get socks from, and make stupid jokes to)...life isn't too shabby for Aaron.
Like Oprah, kinda.
So as I child I remember shopping with my mom and walking to the checkout counter and seeing a tabloid with the inside scoop into Oprah's miraculous weight loss or her terrifying weight gain. Well this is the requiste post about Aaron's facial hair. Starting Tuesday morning...I began Operation Winterize. I'm bringing back the beard. A focus group of close friends reveals that attitudes are mixed on the issue. Some friends see the beard as a sexy choice, one that fits with their values. Others see the beard as a barrier towards ones kissibility. I may later conduct some polling to gain a more projectable sense of the public's opinion on the matter. For now I'm behaving like the bold leader we always knew I was...bravely acting even in the face of uncertain polling numbers. That's right, I don't make decisions based on polls. I'm far more whimsy-prone than that.
We'll see how long this lasts. Turns out I can grow facial hair pretty quickly. I'm past the indie-rock stubble and towards what Mark would certainly call a respectable beard after less than a week.
We'll see how long this lasts. Turns out I can grow facial hair pretty quickly. I'm past the indie-rock stubble and towards what Mark would certainly call a respectable beard after less than a week.
Friday, October 14, 2005
What month am I...
I was talking with my friend Katie White. She has recently moved with her boyfriend to Florida. she was recounting the incredible heat and the consistent weather. I realized why this bothered me (for her specifically). I've always associated Katie with the period in Late fall before Winter comes. She's a november person. She seems to best emody her own specific talents, values, and virtues in that time. I got to wondering, what season to I think best fits other people I know.
Brian is August. Baseball season, dark shoes, black shorts.
Mark is trickier, I'd say September. His birthday. When we met. The start of school. the start of football season. it's the time when his relentless belief that things can be better and different seems most real, most true.
What about others? do people associate themselves, me, others with a month.
Who belongs to what month, who belongs in what season.
I think I'm May. Something about the liminal state between spring and summer. The transition from growing to blossoming. The period when late afternoon naps spent under a single sheet with the windows open are possible.
Brian is August. Baseball season, dark shoes, black shorts.
Mark is trickier, I'd say September. His birthday. When we met. The start of school. the start of football season. it's the time when his relentless belief that things can be better and different seems most real, most true.
What about others? do people associate themselves, me, others with a month.
Who belongs to what month, who belongs in what season.
I think I'm May. Something about the liminal state between spring and summer. The transition from growing to blossoming. The period when late afternoon naps spent under a single sheet with the windows open are possible.
Thursday, October 06, 2005
After After Ashley
Went with Brian (who is visiting this weekend, or at least for part of it) to see Susan's play: After Ashely. Sadly it's been, I calculated, nearly 3 years since I've seen any theater. That's terrible. Same thing with dance (I have seen one piece since Ann and I broke up). So this week I am rectifying these transgressions against my artistic health.
After Ashley was, first and foremost, great fun. It was interesting, funnny, and challenging. And it was free. So maybe that's first. I think the show itself warrants its own post. When I was in HS and did theater people brought you flowers when they came to see your show. So I thought, well I'll get Susan some flowers and bring them to her. Apparently this was above and beyond. All the cast were shocked to see the ASM (assistant stage manager) with flowers. I just figured it was a nice thing to do for a friend in the "biz."
After "After Ashley" we went to Jaleo for tapas. I hate tapas. I find it over priced, over hyped and wholly underwhelming. But we went to tapas. I cannot stress enough the degree to which I find tapas to be the most annoying of new trends. The food always seems greasy and prepared haphazardly. Over presented and under cooked or underwhelming and over priced. I think of tapas sort of like Polly Pocket. Being small and easily shared doesn't make something distasteful better. It just makes it smaller, and supposedly cute. I for one, have no use for cute food. I love appetizers. I love sharing food. But something about the tapas I've had has left me unsatisfied.
I ordered a full plate meal. It consisted of chicken. just a bunch of chicken, poorly seasoned, ill prepared and exceedingly chewy. Jaleo and I are not friends. We will, god willing, not be seeing any more of eachother.
After Ashley was, first and foremost, great fun. It was interesting, funnny, and challenging. And it was free. So maybe that's first. I think the show itself warrants its own post. When I was in HS and did theater people brought you flowers when they came to see your show. So I thought, well I'll get Susan some flowers and bring them to her. Apparently this was above and beyond. All the cast were shocked to see the ASM (assistant stage manager) with flowers. I just figured it was a nice thing to do for a friend in the "biz."
After "After Ashley" we went to Jaleo for tapas. I hate tapas. I find it over priced, over hyped and wholly underwhelming. But we went to tapas. I cannot stress enough the degree to which I find tapas to be the most annoying of new trends. The food always seems greasy and prepared haphazardly. Over presented and under cooked or underwhelming and over priced. I think of tapas sort of like Polly Pocket. Being small and easily shared doesn't make something distasteful better. It just makes it smaller, and supposedly cute. I for one, have no use for cute food. I love appetizers. I love sharing food. But something about the tapas I've had has left me unsatisfied.
I ordered a full plate meal. It consisted of chicken. just a bunch of chicken, poorly seasoned, ill prepared and exceedingly chewy. Jaleo and I are not friends. We will, god willing, not be seeing any more of eachother.
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
Winter goals
1. ENDURANCE I. I want to be able to play at full intensity 3-5 more points per game. I usually can play 80% of my points at full intensity and then the rest at 75%. I want another 3-5 at full speed, full recover.
2. ENDURANCE II. I'd like to be able to play long all game. I've played so much handler that or mid that I don't really have the stamina to play long (with 5 yard set ups and 40 yard cuts) for long points all game. This needs to change and to do so I need to start to run. I've never run more than 3 miles in my life. This winter I want to finish being able to run 6.
3. VERTICAL. I want 3-5 inches on my vertical. Any increase in my vertical will result in a stronger first step. and lord knows that can't hurt.
4. BACKHAND BREAK. I didn't break mark at Regionals with a backhand. This needs to change.
5. HECKLING. I'm a good heckler. But I need to really think about the essence of mockery, really explore the mental space and find ways to taunt while educating, humiliate while being humorous.
In service of these goals, I went for a little run this evening. 2.8 miles in about 25 minutes. Felt nice.
Completely unrelated thoughts: I'm trying to think of songs (ideally well travelled hip hop or something easily recognized) to turn into frisbee songs that we can sing on the sidelines during games.
One team started their game by singing Milkshake by Kelis. I'm proposing Nothing But a G Thang, maybe Holiday Inn...something that has a fun chorus that people know, and we can adapt. Thoughts?
2. ENDURANCE II. I'd like to be able to play long all game. I've played so much handler that or mid that I don't really have the stamina to play long (with 5 yard set ups and 40 yard cuts) for long points all game. This needs to change and to do so I need to start to run. I've never run more than 3 miles in my life. This winter I want to finish being able to run 6.
3. VERTICAL. I want 3-5 inches on my vertical. Any increase in my vertical will result in a stronger first step. and lord knows that can't hurt.
4. BACKHAND BREAK. I didn't break mark at Regionals with a backhand. This needs to change.
5. HECKLING. I'm a good heckler. But I need to really think about the essence of mockery, really explore the mental space and find ways to taunt while educating, humiliate while being humorous.
In service of these goals, I went for a little run this evening. 2.8 miles in about 25 minutes. Felt nice.
Completely unrelated thoughts: I'm trying to think of songs (ideally well travelled hip hop or something easily recognized) to turn into frisbee songs that we can sing on the sidelines during games.
One team started their game by singing Milkshake by Kelis. I'm proposing Nothing But a G Thang, maybe Holiday Inn...something that has a fun chorus that people know, and we can adapt. Thoughts?
Belarus and Spinal Tap
A couple of random anecdotes from the past week or two.
1. A couple of weeks ago when Rita was bearing down on Houston (etc) a friend remarked that meteorologists were forced to reclassify Rita. It was larger than a Category 5 so they called it a monster. See this is bad science. If there are categories for hurricanes you really need to have one that encompasses all kinds of hurricanes. Seriously, just make there be a Category 6. For instance maybe Category 6 is a hurricane that is so giantic that it causes the earth to spin against its own axis. You can't have something that's beyond the Category system. Reminds me of the scene from Spinal Tap. This one goes to 11. Why don't you make 10 higher... Same thought.
2. My coworker answers the phone, "Belden, Russonello and Stewart" and gets this perplexed look on her face. Finally after a few slowly spoken sentences she says, "I'm pretty sure you have the wrong number." She hangs up and begins laughing uncontrollably. Turns out the caller was asking for the Belarus Embassay. I guess it's not that hard to confuse Beldon, Russonello and Stewart with Belarus...and I'm pretty sure that BRS (our abbreviation is the same as that for Belarus).
1. A couple of weeks ago when Rita was bearing down on Houston (etc) a friend remarked that meteorologists were forced to reclassify Rita. It was larger than a Category 5 so they called it a monster. See this is bad science. If there are categories for hurricanes you really need to have one that encompasses all kinds of hurricanes. Seriously, just make there be a Category 6. For instance maybe Category 6 is a hurricane that is so giantic that it causes the earth to spin against its own axis. You can't have something that's beyond the Category system. Reminds me of the scene from Spinal Tap. This one goes to 11. Why don't you make 10 higher... Same thought.
2. My coworker answers the phone, "Belden, Russonello and Stewart" and gets this perplexed look on her face. Finally after a few slowly spoken sentences she says, "I'm pretty sure you have the wrong number." She hangs up and begins laughing uncontrollably. Turns out the caller was asking for the Belarus Embassay. I guess it's not that hard to confuse Beldon, Russonello and Stewart with Belarus...and I'm pretty sure that BRS (our abbreviation is the same as that for Belarus).
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