The Great Pumpkin

Had to share this for Halloween ...

Superdork

There are days when the level my dorkdom reaches surprises even me.

Take today, for instance, when I was putting some things away. For my birthday, my mother-in-law gave me the A New Hope Infinities Graphic Novel.

Now, I have a growing collections of Star Wars Graphic Novels. And they are together on a bookshelf in chronological order. And so I had to ponder for several minutes where in the collection I should put a graphic novel that belongs to a parallel timeline.

For now, I put it on the other side of the Essential Guidebooks, but we'll see where it end up ...

Reason #1138 Why I Love My Church

Because, seriously, would your church enhance the experience of those attending service by having a strobe light in use during communion?

I highly doubt it.

One day, when money is able to flow more freely for us, we'll have to gift a strobe light to church for nights like this.

Aging

So, I'm getting old(er). I realize it every morning. I wake up, and at least three joints on my body ache. Every day. Some of the joints rotate, some of them don't. My right knee is a pretty good constant. If a day ends in Y, I'm pretty sure I'll wake up and my right knee will be aching.

My back is also a pretty big constant. It aches every morning. But, then again, it also aches just about every waking second of the day. I sometimes feel like I live on Bayer Back & Body the way I used to live on Mountain Dew when I was at Northern.

And I constantly find myself complaining about "kids these days". They don't wear enough clothing. Their music doesn't have enough meaning and heart. They don't have enough respect for their elders. They don't really know half the stuff they talk about. They don't remember what life was like before x, y, and z. And on, and on, and on.

And so I've known about these factors for a while. And yes, I just had a birthday this past weekend (Thank you JD Drew for ruining it, you selfish bastard). But today, I finally realized just how much I'm aging.

I realized that when I'm not near enough to Columbus (meaning I can get RadioU), I pretty much use the radio in my car for three things: sports, AM news in the morning (with the local guy), and the Classic Rock station.

Yup, that makes me headed in the old direction. If I'm not already there.

Ha! I'm Not Alone!

So, I've taken quite a bit of ridicule from my wife over the past few weeks. As the Indians went to the playoffs, and advanced into the ALCS, I began to notice that certain behaviors I had correlated with some decent level to the outcome on the field. The things I ate, the clothes I wore, the places I sat.

And I wasn't alone in my being mocked, either. Ryan, who I watched a few games with, sat through the exact same thing.

Our wives thought we were crazy. Others laughed and joked about what they might do (in jest) to help the Indians win this year.

But Ryan and I ... we are not alone. According to that article on ESPN.com, 1 in 5 fans do things to help their teams win or to avoid jinxes.

I'm just shocked its that low. I figured it'd be closer to 4 in 5, to be honest.

So I might be crazy, but at least I'm not alone!

The Agony of Defeat

I know.

I know.

It's just a game.


But this sucks. It really sucks. I really thought this was the year for my beloved Tribe. I thought for certain this was the best chance in my lifetime for the season to end with a stream of tears of joy running down my face. Instead, it ended with my curled on my couch, tears running, but not of joy.

The Buckeye egg laying in Arizona. The Buckeye house building in the finals. The Cavs getting swept. And now going 0-3 in knockout games in the LCS.

Yes, it's just a game. They are all just games. But it still sucks.

You have no idea how much I want to see Boston College and Ohio State play for the National Title in Football right now. How I'm already trying to picture the Little Animal sacking Matt Ryan, and then RoboCatch going for a long bomb touchdown.

You have no idea how much I'm looking forward to the first Cavs-Celtics game. How much I'm looking forward to and picturing LeBron posterizing Garnett on a mammoth dunk. How I'm hoping we draw them in the playoffs and knock them out.

Heck, at this point in time I'm even daydreaming of the Browns backing into the playoffs as a six-seed, winning in the opening round and knocking off New England, ending their season at 16-1.

If you are wondering

Last night: Chicken McNuggets

Tonight: Two four ways with beans.



I can't make this stuff up.


(if you have no idea what this post it talking about, read down a few posts)

On The Path To Where, Exactly?

So, this morning, I was driving to Marion, OH. I was heading down 15 out of beautiful Findlay Ohio on a morning that finally felt like Autumn. Traffic was fairly light, as is usual for the path on a non-holiday travel day. Straight ahead in the sky was a giant white cloud surrounded by the only patch of sky I could truly call blue. The rest of the sky was gray. Very gray.

My attention became fixed on the giant white cloud in the one patch of blue. I traveled down a straight path of 15 for what seemed like a very, very long time. No turns, no hills. Just a straight path. A path that almost defines Northwest Ohio. And my attention remained fixed on the big white cloud with the patch of blue around it.

And that big white cloud with the patch of blue around it seemed to not get any closer. Even though I was traveling at a rate faster than one mile per minute, that patch of blue with the big white cloud in it simply would not come closer. I was stuck, it seemed, to be surrounded by the gray sky, and the less bright clouds. The less inviting and less promising part of the cool Autumn sky.

And I started to wonder if this was a metaphor for my life. That I could see a bright spot. I could see a path to that white spot. But no matter how hard I tried, and how fast I traveled, and how straight my path was, I couldn't gain ground towards it. I was stuck in the less promising part.

And I then began to wonder if it were a metaphor for something else. Not just me. Perhaps my career? Perhaps my life goals? Perhaps the universal Church? Perhaps my church? Perhaps my fraternity? Perhaps America? Perhaps the world? Perhaps "society as a whole"?

I trust in the ideology that I get more true insight from questions than from answers. That the path is more fulfilling than the destination. I hope that holds this time. Because I have a lot of questions. And a long path. And I'm not certain the end goal is actually attainable.

This Parody is NOT Garbage

Too funny, I couldn't not share ...

Superstitions

Everyone has some superstitions. Whether it's how you walk, where you drive, what you say to your wife before you leave in the morning, etc ... we all have them. I'm willing to bet that 99% of us don't really believe the superstitions we partake in, but we do them out of that inkling of doubt and the "what if" and "just in case" nerves in the back of our necks and brains.

This is more true than ever when it comes to sports fans. Sports players might top us (see Wade Boggs eating before a game and Patrick Roy entering and exiting the ice), but then again they might not. We have traditions we stick to. Something we did once that lead to a win, and we're afraid that if we don't, our team will lose and we'll be at fault. It's another way of involving ourselves in the game, but this time it only comes at a catastrophic price. There is no reward, there is only punishment. No one runs around yelling "Ohio State won against Michigan because I'm wearing the same underpants I was wearing when they announced the hiring of Jim Tressel!". But someone, somewhere, was thinking to themselves "man, I always make homemade buckeyes for Ohio State Games, and I bought store made ones this time. If I hadn't done that, we would have beaten Florida and we'd be the reining champs!"

I'm far from exempt from this. Back in the run to Super Bowl XL, Pittsburgh got an improbable win over Cincy in Cincy in the wild card round. I was wearing my smaller brown corduroy pants, my original Pacman boxers, and my green Monty Python shirt. A week later, it's Pittsburgh vs. Indianapolis, and all the above mentioned clothing is clean. So I wear it again. And Pittsburgh pulls the upset that no one outside of Merrill Hoge picked on television. The following week on Saturday I look in the closet, and discover the clothing is not there, and is in fact, dirty. So I beg with Rachel to wash them. She does, and I wear them that following Sunday. Pittsburgh defeats Denver. And there's no need to ask what I wore on Super Bowl Sunday, is there?

Now, I know deep down inside that if you asked me rationally, I would tell you that my choice of clothing had nothing to do with the Steelers winning Super Bowl XL. But, somewhere else down there, in the pit of my stomach and grabbing at the back of my neck is an inkling of doubt that says "don't risk it". That says that maybe all things are equal, and the "sports gods" are looking around, seeing which sports fans are respecting them most, and giving victory to their team. Again, rationally, I don't believe this, but emotionally, I don't want to risk it.

Fast forward to present days. The Indians are in the playoffs, facing the (hated) New York Yankees in the first round of the playoffs. For game one, I headed to Ryan's house, and brought a pot of Cincy-style Chili with all the fixings. I enjoyed two four-ways w/bean as I watched the Indians pummel the Yanks. The next night was game two. I heated up the leftovers, again had two portions, and survived the extra-inning nail-biter the Indians won. Last night was game three. The Indians were leading 3-0 when I got home from jOURney and Wal-Mart. I made Rachel and I dinner: fiesta hamburgerittos, scalloped potatoes, and California Blend. The Indians lost the game.

Any guess on what I'm eating during the game tonight? I only hope it's not too late and the sports gods haven't already considered me lost. I'd hate to see the Indians lose this series. And I'd hate to have even a small, irrational part of me think it was my fault.

Good Times and Good Music

So, last night I saw Ellery perform here in Findlay. They're simply amazing. They take a style that I wouldn't characterize as "my style" of music, and make it just an amazing performance that I enjoy like nothing else. The honesty in their songs, and in their voices, captivates me. I'd encourage everyone to go out and see them if they get the chance. A lot cheaper than most concerts, I'd imagine.

They were with a couple of "local" talents last night as well. The concert was a benefit to raise money for flood relief here in Findlay. Just a fun night. Good music. Probably not as talented as what you'd see at a concert sponsored by Radio U or at a big music hall, but it seemed more real. More true to what personal music should and could be.

I think I'm finally starting to appreciate the "independent" types of the world. The less refined acts. The beauty of heart and soul over pomp and circumstance. I dunno.

I've conversed with Rachel a few times about what a "dream concert" looks like. And most of the time, I'm naming a couple of big name bands to headline and seeing an awesome evening of music, performance, lights, pyrotechnics, etc. But I think at the moment my "dream concert" would be RC Foshizzle and the jOURney House Band and Ellery opening for Hawk Nelson.

That would be an evening I could enjoy.


Oh, and if you've never heard Ellery, here's my favorite Ellery song:

On The Warpath

Stephen Colbert says "Go Tribe"