You guessed it. Today is finally the day. The day I hand my life over to another. I figured what better way to inform my family and friends of this momentous occasion then through my recently and always struggling blog. Everyone thought I would get it done while in Italy but I knew the timing was not right. I needed to wait until I felt it, and that day was today. We met over five years ago and I knew without a doubt that this was a love unlike any other. It was winter when my eyes met the most beautiful, glowing, perfectly rectangular piece of technology known to man. That is right, today I make true my love to none other than Steve Jobs.
I first met Steve at Christmas my Junior year of High School. (Can you believe it has been five and half years already, Steve?) I don't remember the clothes you were wearing, probably because I ripped them off like a senior prom date. After tearing through what felt like layers of wrapping I came to the holy grail. All that was left was one final maneuver and you were free, more than willing to be handled by my grizzly hands for the rest of time.
We have had our fair share of hard times, frustrating moments, hospital visits. Hell, we broke up over seven times...literally. Yet somehow, Steve, you got me to come back begging for you after each and every time. No matter the cost, you always came back more beautiful than I remembered you being previously. Although I didn't mind you originally, I must say I was pleasantly surprised by the way you got into shape and slimmed down for me while still allowing me more space and time. Or the time you came back to me, filled with color as though you'd spent our entire time apart basking in the sun. And even when I am short for cash, I love you enough to buy you knew clothes, give you baths, and even pay for your hair extensions (headphones...stretch?).
You might ask, "Soren. What made today THE day?" I'll tell you why. Today I finally found out about the application that was created solely for me. And I didn't even know that this generation of iPod had applications. We are talking about an application so brilliant, Stevie wouldn't dare tell anyone, not even his dearly beloved, yours truly.
Since summer vacation I have been in the mindset, when it comes to music, to let things play at as they will. So of course the best way to do so is use the "Random" feature. But my iPod Random is not like any normal iPod, it is genius random. We have all heard about the digital paintings that supposedly change to the mood of the person in the room. Well my iPod now has this same feature. Yes, it can gauge my mood and play the correct music accordingly.
Now maybe I should give Shure Headphones some credit. Maybe they teamed up with Steve to create some mind reading device that shoots into my brain through my ears, reads my mood and returns through the ear buds, down the cord and into my iPod (the funny part about this is, I doubt that technology is more than a year or two away). The application only was installed about a month ago and I didn't even realize it at the time. In fact, Steve kept it such a secret he let a feud between us linger for nearly a month before popping the question today. You see, I have been noticing several of the songs on my iPod skipping, like old shake your portable cd player skipping. At first I saw this as another sign of a breaking device. Naturally, I blamed it on overuse; possibly the shaking that occurs when I run with it.
It wasn't until today that I realized this was the application in full bloom. While I was out for my daily (ya right) run it occurred to me at mile 3, my half way point. The story however, starts from mile one. Now I don't need a pacesetter song to start, just one I enjoy. So sure enough, right off the bat I get "Fix You" by Coldplay (don't start with the "You know how I know your gay" jokes. They fit to well with this post). Certainly a slow song to start, but one I enjoy and that picks up in speed after a few minutes. Perfect way to start. Fast forward a bit. A song I have been obsessed with lately, not because I like the song or the artist, just because of one lyric. "Nemesis" by David Gray. Around the three minute mark he sings, "I am your one true love that sleeps with someone else". For some reason I find this to be so poetically beautiful I can even explain. Mile three, half way, struggling a bit. This is when it occurs to me.
Now with my new view on music listening, I am only skipping songs when they don't play correctly. So keep in mind that about half don't work right so I skip quite a few, several that I really enjoy. So right after I hit three miles and start to slow I skip ahead to the next working song and it is none other than, "Move Along" by The All American Rejects. I don't particularly enjoy the song, don't enjoy the band, but I realized that the timing was perfect. Like a movie scene perfect. Struggling protagonist gets sudden pick-me-up out of nowhere. Oscar worthy. And it is true, they have done studies that show how the right music corresponds to a faster running pace, better weight lifting abilities, etc. This is the exact moment it hit me. Fast forward to mile 5. As I am making my return run, "Take a Picture" by Filter. Awesome song. I didn't even realize it was on my iPod. What makes this incredibly perfect is the fact that when I really am struggling, I look the calmest. So I drumming to the song and they at several points the lyric "Awake On My Airplane" is sung. Of course I put my arms out and pretend like I am flying, it's the only way to push through. And of course two bikers would drive by at this exact moment and laugh. But what made it even more perfect was as soon as they sing "Could you take my picture? Cause I won't remember" I emerge from the woods into the brilliant rays of the sun. At that exact moment. No picture could capture it, but I will remember. Now mile six, last mile. "Hush" by L.L. Cool J. Terrible song. Terrible. But what it made me think of...awesome. Vegas baby. My sixth favorite city in the world. If you are wondering, we saw him there in January. Just thinking about that trip could get me another mile.
Finally, the end of mile six and my journey. As I walk up the driveway to Tawny's house and into it to find her, "99 Problems" by Jay-Z. I laughed. I have a ton of problems, but a bitch certainly is not one of them. Now I just hope she accepts that Steve Jobs is a part of our lives forever.
On a quick sidenote, while I was looking up World War II images for my internship I came across a cartoon comparing Steve Jobs to Hitler. If they are saying that Apple is attempting to take over the world, count me in, minus the whole genocide.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Work and the GRE
So for this post I will need to further explain my job. When anyone in the office makes a phone call it is recorded under the account of the person being called. So if I come across the account of a woman who owes $22.50 I can see everyone who has attempted to contact her, whether or not it was successful, what was said or if a simple voice mail was left. Each entry is time coded so people are not called too often. Since we make many phone calls and don't have time to fully type out conversations abbreviations are used. And not just for single words, but for entire sentences. The following is a list of my favorites.
GFFVP - Good for future value pays - This means that someone has given us a form of payment that they want used the next time our office receives a file on their account.
PUHU - Pickup, Hangup - For the several times that people pick up the phone only to immediately hang up because they know we are calling. This is usually followed by x2 or x3, etc., meaning how many times in a row it happened. My record is PUHUx5, meaning five straight times calling someone and them picking up, not speaking, and hanging up.
NWN - Not a working number - For the numbers that no longer are in service.
TTD - Talked to debtor - Obvious.
LMOR - Left message on recorder
Atty - Attorney - Yes, people either try to sue us or file bankruptcy, so this information is vital.
TPF/TPM - Third party female/male - When someone other than the debtor answers and takes a message.
LMTC - Left message to call - What you give to those TPF/TPM.
CB/WCB/IWCB/WCMB - Callback/Will call back/ I will call back/ Will call me back - Wow.
Even though several more are created every day, I will stop with these. Being that I do like to write and will be needing to write in my hopeful career, I try my best to not use these abbreviations and just type out full sentences. The best part is I never received a list of what these computer abbreviations meant, I was forced to figure them out for myself. In fact, after one month I can now decipher codes like Nicholas Cage. Sign me up for National Treasure 3. I would even be willing to bet that I can decode any abbreviation related to conversation. It's like our data entry system has turned into an AOL chat-type program. I have not been through my GRE study book yet, but if their is an abbreviated words section, IWD (I will dominate).
While on the subject of work, here are some statistics from my first month, don't mathematically to help me prepare for the Fifth Grade math section of the GRE.
On Average
300 accounts a day
x 2 numbers per account
= (a) 600 phone numbers dialed per day
x 13 digits per call (8, 8 in order to get a dial tone, 10 digit number and # to send) = 7800 phone buttons pressed a day not including the answer button when a rare phone call does come in.
(a) x 4 rings per call (averaging out for those who answer earlier, those who take longer and those who never answer
=2400 rings heard each day.
Since about 80% of calls end in a voice mail being heard
(a) x .8
= (b) 480 voice mails heard (rarely listened to)
Since about 90% of those voice mails don't have an actual greeting
(b) x .9
= 432 times hearing the basic "You have reached 3 2 0 2 8 2 5 0 5 8..." I used to think that voice was sexy.
Oh, and on average one can of pop purchased a day;
30 (days) x $.65 = $19.50 spent on caffeine.
At least now I can take one more career off my list, collections agent. So since I finally decided the NBA was out, the list now rounds out at a total of two.
FML, but TFR (thanks for reading).
GFFVP - Good for future value pays - This means that someone has given us a form of payment that they want used the next time our office receives a file on their account.
PUHU - Pickup, Hangup - For the several times that people pick up the phone only to immediately hang up because they know we are calling. This is usually followed by x2 or x3, etc., meaning how many times in a row it happened. My record is PUHUx5, meaning five straight times calling someone and them picking up, not speaking, and hanging up.
NWN - Not a working number - For the numbers that no longer are in service.
TTD - Talked to debtor - Obvious.
LMOR - Left message on recorder
Atty - Attorney - Yes, people either try to sue us or file bankruptcy, so this information is vital.
TPF/TPM - Third party female/male - When someone other than the debtor answers and takes a message.
LMTC - Left message to call - What you give to those TPF/TPM.
CB/WCB/IWCB/WCMB - Callback/Will call back/ I will call back/ Will call me back - Wow.
Even though several more are created every day, I will stop with these. Being that I do like to write and will be needing to write in my hopeful career, I try my best to not use these abbreviations and just type out full sentences. The best part is I never received a list of what these computer abbreviations meant, I was forced to figure them out for myself. In fact, after one month I can now decipher codes like Nicholas Cage. Sign me up for National Treasure 3. I would even be willing to bet that I can decode any abbreviation related to conversation. It's like our data entry system has turned into an AOL chat-type program. I have not been through my GRE study book yet, but if their is an abbreviated words section, IWD (I will dominate).
While on the subject of work, here are some statistics from my first month, don't mathematically to help me prepare for the Fifth Grade math section of the GRE.
On Average
300 accounts a day
x 2 numbers per account
= (a) 600 phone numbers dialed per day
x 13 digits per call (8, 8 in order to get a dial tone, 10 digit number and # to send) = 7800 phone buttons pressed a day not including the answer button when a rare phone call does come in.
(a) x 4 rings per call (averaging out for those who answer earlier, those who take longer and those who never answer
=2400 rings heard each day.
Since about 80% of calls end in a voice mail being heard
(a) x .8
= (b) 480 voice mails heard (rarely listened to)
Since about 90% of those voice mails don't have an actual greeting
(b) x .9
= 432 times hearing the basic "You have reached 3 2 0 2 8 2 5 0 5 8..." I used to think that voice was sexy.
Oh, and on average one can of pop purchased a day;
30 (days) x $.65 = $19.50 spent on caffeine.
At least now I can take one more career off my list, collections agent. So since I finally decided the NBA was out, the list now rounds out at a total of two.
FML, but TFR (thanks for reading).
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Twenty-two is the new Forty
Today marks exactly one month since graduation. So here is my one month analysis of life after college.
I thoroughly enjoy my living situation. How couldn't I? I live for free in suburban Chaska with a comfy bed, nice living quarters, two dogs (an animal I have never lived with), two cats (an animal I have lived with my entire life), a huge meal every other night on average, and free parking. Oh, and my roommate and I are pretty tight.
My work situation is, well, fine. Between my two obligations I make out to about 60-hour work weeks. Several early mornings straight into late nights (when it comes to work standards). The drive isn't as bad as I thought it would be, making a triangle between Chaska, Shakopee and Eden Prairie. Rarely bad traffic and pretty straight shots from place to place. I really enjoy my internship as a programs and events specialist(?). I get to do arts and crafts with kids at libraries in the area. I have been searching for a 1950's mock Big Band to play for an event which takes place in a plane hangar. This means I contact managers and listen/watch material they send in, begging to be hired. For the same event I have been put to the task to find a catering service. Looking at food on the internet, talking main and side dishes, budget and service. I also found out that Canterbury Park has boxes filled with used playing cards and if you contact the right people, they are willing to give them away in mass quantities. I asked for 200, the woman's reply "No problem. Just let me know when you are coming and I will meet you at the valet." Now I'm thinking I might shoot for 300. Keep a few for myself.
I have numerously described my actual (for the very short time being) job in pre-debt collections as "numbing". It may sound terrible but it's a far cry from hating it. The time passes, not fast or slow, just passes. I have a window cubicle so I am able to aimlessly waste time by staring at the tree tops. I have a portable iHome that as quietly as possible plays my tunes all day long. I make on average around 600 phone calls a day and am able to read while they ring. Ninety percent of people don't answer so that is plenty of ringing. I have even been able to master the art of leaving voice-mails, always the same script, while I continue to read. Not just look at the words on the page, actually read and understand while talking into a headset about a completely opposite topic. My walls are decorated with post-it note pen drawings, art history and Spanish study notes and other work related papers. I am unable to decorate with the pictures of family as every one else in the office does because I can't let anyone know that I date Tawny. Who might I add not only works there; she sits behind me through the glass walls of my boss' office. Oh, and our boss is her sister. You can understand what other employees would think if they found out that the boss' sister, brother, cousin, and basically brother-in-law all work under her. I've always been told that it's all about who you know.
But the thing I have noticed more now than any time in my life is how physically worn out I am. It makes sense. Wake up at 6 or 7 every morning, get home at 8 or 9 every night. Most week nights I find myself in bed by ten, as if I had curfew like in Junior High again. For the first three weeks I blamed it on my work schedule. My body just hadn't adjusted yet. But one specific night this past week put my new life into perspective. One night that made me feel like a changing of the guards had already happened in my life. I am notorious for needing bathrooms breaks on average two times a night. Usually between 2 and 3, and again between 5 and 6. These are the times I would usually refer to as "the middle of the night", for obvious reason. Well on this one specific night, not only was I in bed by 9:15, but my middle of the night calling came much earlier. As of one month ago, I had rarely been to bed before 11:30 in four years. On this night as I returned from my business I peaked at the clock to see "11:25", quite possibly the first mid-night calling that came pre-midnight.
This may seem like a small bump in the road moment to most, but not for me. Everyone has those moments that seem stupid and small yet are remembered forever. This is no doubt one of them. For the first time in 22 years, I felt like I had truly moved on to a new stage of my life, even more so than the transfer from high school to college. I suddenly felt like a true adult. It was like a mid-life crisis at 22 but instead of buying a Harley or getting a tattoo, I bought myself new running shoes. Maybe to prove to myself I am still young enough to always find time to be active. Maybe just because it was time. I do know for certain that when I got back into bed that night after seeing that clock, I lied on my back, stared at the ceiling, and quietly giggled to myself because of this realization. And yes, I did immediately set an alarm on my cell phone to write this post.
I thoroughly enjoy my living situation. How couldn't I? I live for free in suburban Chaska with a comfy bed, nice living quarters, two dogs (an animal I have never lived with), two cats (an animal I have lived with my entire life), a huge meal every other night on average, and free parking. Oh, and my roommate and I are pretty tight.
My work situation is, well, fine. Between my two obligations I make out to about 60-hour work weeks. Several early mornings straight into late nights (when it comes to work standards). The drive isn't as bad as I thought it would be, making a triangle between Chaska, Shakopee and Eden Prairie. Rarely bad traffic and pretty straight shots from place to place. I really enjoy my internship as a programs and events specialist(?). I get to do arts and crafts with kids at libraries in the area. I have been searching for a 1950's mock Big Band to play for an event which takes place in a plane hangar. This means I contact managers and listen/watch material they send in, begging to be hired. For the same event I have been put to the task to find a catering service. Looking at food on the internet, talking main and side dishes, budget and service. I also found out that Canterbury Park has boxes filled with used playing cards and if you contact the right people, they are willing to give them away in mass quantities. I asked for 200, the woman's reply "No problem. Just let me know when you are coming and I will meet you at the valet." Now I'm thinking I might shoot for 300. Keep a few for myself.
I have numerously described my actual (for the very short time being) job in pre-debt collections as "numbing". It may sound terrible but it's a far cry from hating it. The time passes, not fast or slow, just passes. I have a window cubicle so I am able to aimlessly waste time by staring at the tree tops. I have a portable iHome that as quietly as possible plays my tunes all day long. I make on average around 600 phone calls a day and am able to read while they ring. Ninety percent of people don't answer so that is plenty of ringing. I have even been able to master the art of leaving voice-mails, always the same script, while I continue to read. Not just look at the words on the page, actually read and understand while talking into a headset about a completely opposite topic. My walls are decorated with post-it note pen drawings, art history and Spanish study notes and other work related papers. I am unable to decorate with the pictures of family as every one else in the office does because I can't let anyone know that I date Tawny. Who might I add not only works there; she sits behind me through the glass walls of my boss' office. Oh, and our boss is her sister. You can understand what other employees would think if they found out that the boss' sister, brother, cousin, and basically brother-in-law all work under her. I've always been told that it's all about who you know.
But the thing I have noticed more now than any time in my life is how physically worn out I am. It makes sense. Wake up at 6 or 7 every morning, get home at 8 or 9 every night. Most week nights I find myself in bed by ten, as if I had curfew like in Junior High again. For the first three weeks I blamed it on my work schedule. My body just hadn't adjusted yet. But one specific night this past week put my new life into perspective. One night that made me feel like a changing of the guards had already happened in my life. I am notorious for needing bathrooms breaks on average two times a night. Usually between 2 and 3, and again between 5 and 6. These are the times I would usually refer to as "the middle of the night", for obvious reason. Well on this one specific night, not only was I in bed by 9:15, but my middle of the night calling came much earlier. As of one month ago, I had rarely been to bed before 11:30 in four years. On this night as I returned from my business I peaked at the clock to see "11:25", quite possibly the first mid-night calling that came pre-midnight.
This may seem like a small bump in the road moment to most, but not for me. Everyone has those moments that seem stupid and small yet are remembered forever. This is no doubt one of them. For the first time in 22 years, I felt like I had truly moved on to a new stage of my life, even more so than the transfer from high school to college. I suddenly felt like a true adult. It was like a mid-life crisis at 22 but instead of buying a Harley or getting a tattoo, I bought myself new running shoes. Maybe to prove to myself I am still young enough to always find time to be active. Maybe just because it was time. I do know for certain that when I got back into bed that night after seeing that clock, I lied on my back, stared at the ceiling, and quietly giggled to myself because of this realization. And yes, I did immediately set an alarm on my cell phone to write this post.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
I Am Martin
If you haven't read the namesake of this blog, Candide by Voltaire, you wouldn't understand the title of this entry without an explanation...so here it is.
Of several main characters the three that stick out are of course Candide and his two philosopher friends and travel mates Pangloss and Martin. Pangloss is an optimist who believes in the age old saying, "Everything happens for a reason." Martin on the other hand is a cynical scholar. As an extreme pessimist, he expects nothing but the worst in every situation. Although I can't say I am this intense, I find Martin to be a much closer example of myself than Pangloss. And it stings me to say the main reason is...my choice of college major. This post is about to go in all directions so sit back, grab a drink and try to follow along.
I started school with no intent on falling in love with art and its history. After a few freshman year courses, I couldn't help but believe that this was the future for me. NOT KNOWING WHATSOEVER the possible, or lack of, career opportunities available. After committing to the major and attempting to figure out my future life, I became disturbed. I can blame it on the economy but the truth is, not as many people need art, or realize that they do, as much as they need financial advice, or manager assistance, or insurance agents, all careers I could have easily pursued.
Now I am in no way questioning my love of the subject. If I didn't enjoy it, I never would have voluntarily taken the additional unnecessary classes. I also have no doubt that I want to pursue a higher education in Art History that will allow me to reach certain goals, namely, becoming a College Professor. And with an Art History degree, their are not many options without some form of a masters degree. Okay, so chalk it up, here I come graduate school, fine with me. Now does this make me any more stress free? Of course not, I am Martin. I will find a flaw in a Rolex watch, or a circle-me-bert insta-circle.
Here is where things get twisted and this post takes a wicked turn. I thought about doing these topics separately, but in reality they work in complete harmony. The utterly exhausting pessimistic view I have of my future and my favorite moment in four years of college. I had plenty of good ones. Of course the parties, especially the several held at the expense of my own granny-smith green home. Or when 4 friends and I walked into Jackpot Junction Casino while the sun was setting and eight hours later left while the sun was rising. How about a semester in Italy. I mean come on, how can that not top the list (my moments there do make up numbers 2 - 50). Poker tournaments, movie marathons, a UND trip, a Vegas trip, even an entire January of N64 Mariokart. My final college class, final exam, final paper, senior week, commencement...they all line up single file behind number one. And sorry friends who hope you may be involved, I was alone.
My favorite moment came on a lone night, sitting on my porch with a glass of wine, a cigar and two papers to peer critique all with a raging party only seven feet and a screen door away. As finals neared and paper due dates peaked around the corner, this particular night needed to be focused on schoolwork. Instead of going to the library or locking myself away in my room, I decided to plop myself on the porch with a drink, a smoke, my ears listening to the rain and my eyes correcting papers. This night was beyond awesome, it was immediate facebook status awesome.
The reason I connect these two topics is because for the first time in my life, I was CERTAIN of what my future held for me. College professor, that is my calling, officially. Teaching, my goal. Several more nights drinking wine, smoking cigars and correcting papers on future porches. This is my Eden. I know it might be hard for you to believe this small moment could be the best of my college life, but you don't feel my cynicism. In this moment, everything in my life was perfect. My life was a butterfly, freed of my cocoon. I was Pangloss, if only for that hour, that moment.
It is tough for me to label exactly what I have learned from the realization that these two experiences work side by side. Maybe just that no matter how bad or tough things seem to be; no matter how stressed or pessimistic you are; no matter how confused or sad or haunted by the freight train that is your impending future, just find that one moment in your life that was flawless. Now channel that moment. Now smile. See? It is all going to work out beautifully. If perfect happened once, it will most certainly strike again.
Of several main characters the three that stick out are of course Candide and his two philosopher friends and travel mates Pangloss and Martin. Pangloss is an optimist who believes in the age old saying, "Everything happens for a reason." Martin on the other hand is a cynical scholar. As an extreme pessimist, he expects nothing but the worst in every situation. Although I can't say I am this intense, I find Martin to be a much closer example of myself than Pangloss. And it stings me to say the main reason is...my choice of college major. This post is about to go in all directions so sit back, grab a drink and try to follow along.
I started school with no intent on falling in love with art and its history. After a few freshman year courses, I couldn't help but believe that this was the future for me. NOT KNOWING WHATSOEVER the possible, or lack of, career opportunities available. After committing to the major and attempting to figure out my future life, I became disturbed. I can blame it on the economy but the truth is, not as many people need art, or realize that they do, as much as they need financial advice, or manager assistance, or insurance agents, all careers I could have easily pursued.
Now I am in no way questioning my love of the subject. If I didn't enjoy it, I never would have voluntarily taken the additional unnecessary classes. I also have no doubt that I want to pursue a higher education in Art History that will allow me to reach certain goals, namely, becoming a College Professor. And with an Art History degree, their are not many options without some form of a masters degree. Okay, so chalk it up, here I come graduate school, fine with me. Now does this make me any more stress free? Of course not, I am Martin. I will find a flaw in a Rolex watch, or a circle-me-bert insta-circle.
Here is where things get twisted and this post takes a wicked turn. I thought about doing these topics separately, but in reality they work in complete harmony. The utterly exhausting pessimistic view I have of my future and my favorite moment in four years of college. I had plenty of good ones. Of course the parties, especially the several held at the expense of my own granny-smith green home. Or when 4 friends and I walked into Jackpot Junction Casino while the sun was setting and eight hours later left while the sun was rising. How about a semester in Italy. I mean come on, how can that not top the list (my moments there do make up numbers 2 - 50). Poker tournaments, movie marathons, a UND trip, a Vegas trip, even an entire January of N64 Mariokart. My final college class, final exam, final paper, senior week, commencement...they all line up single file behind number one. And sorry friends who hope you may be involved, I was alone.
My favorite moment came on a lone night, sitting on my porch with a glass of wine, a cigar and two papers to peer critique all with a raging party only seven feet and a screen door away. As finals neared and paper due dates peaked around the corner, this particular night needed to be focused on schoolwork. Instead of going to the library or locking myself away in my room, I decided to plop myself on the porch with a drink, a smoke, my ears listening to the rain and my eyes correcting papers. This night was beyond awesome, it was immediate facebook status awesome.
The reason I connect these two topics is because for the first time in my life, I was CERTAIN of what my future held for me. College professor, that is my calling, officially. Teaching, my goal. Several more nights drinking wine, smoking cigars and correcting papers on future porches. This is my Eden. I know it might be hard for you to believe this small moment could be the best of my college life, but you don't feel my cynicism. In this moment, everything in my life was perfect. My life was a butterfly, freed of my cocoon. I was Pangloss, if only for that hour, that moment.
It is tough for me to label exactly what I have learned from the realization that these two experiences work side by side. Maybe just that no matter how bad or tough things seem to be; no matter how stressed or pessimistic you are; no matter how confused or sad or haunted by the freight train that is your impending future, just find that one moment in your life that was flawless. Now channel that moment. Now smile. See? It is all going to work out beautifully. If perfect happened once, it will most certainly strike again.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Pain for Pleasure
Last night while watching an episode of CSI: NY I had to tivo rewind at one point in order to copy down a phrase said by one of the shows characters. In a confrontational scene, Sheldon says to Danny who is slacking on his walking rehab, "Pain is the payment for each precious thing." I honestly have trouble thinking of a statement that could possible be more true. Some examples;
I think of college. I think of so many difficult courses, situations, arguments, etc., all of which made college more enjoyable, valuable and yes, precious. Want more specific? How about the kidney stone I was blessed with on Halloween of my sophomore year? While all my friends are out having fun, dressed up as the Mario Bros cast, I lie in pain on my dorm room futon. You may ask where the precious comes. The precious is in the single friend who came back to take care of me. The one friend who called her nurse mother to figure out what we should do. The single friend that took me to the hospital, waited while I had tests done, took me to the Mankato hospital the following morning and waited their until my mother made it. A friend that in those most painful moments became so very special.
How about marathons? I have not spoken to a single sole who enjoyed mile 25. In fact one even said he was unable to sleep for three days because his legs were just too sore. Although I have not had the opportunity, or maybe have not sought it, I can imagine the precious, unforgettable moment that is crossing the finish line. A recent ecstatic finisher told me, "The medal was totally worth the $75 entry fee." I can't imagine the physically climb of Mount Everest to be the most enjoyable of occasions, but the view from the top...well I've seen pictures. What about Relay for Life? Isn't the whole idea about persevering through the pain in order to have a more precious view on life. On a personal note I can think of hikes, several miles long on difficult terrain while my feet scream for relief. One of the fondest memories I have is the moment I put those travelled feet in a Colorado Lake after six miles of rock, dirt and hill. Our final destination lake, just Tawny and I, in solitude, admiring distant waterfalls.
Love? Marriage? Same story (at least I would bet with marriage). Never physical pain but one that is often times much worse. I have always thought the phrase should be, "sticks and stones can break your bones but words can break the rest." Whether it is loud shouting or shear silence, the arguments and fights or lone nights. These always forgiving moments only make the pleasant times all the more valuable, memorable, lovable, _______ (insert adjective here).
Obviously the most pure example would be childbearing. I am so grateful to never have to go through the pain of childbirth, but I think every mother would tell you the pain is worth the reward. Every father would also agree the squeezed so hard it nearly broke hand, baby cried so long I couldn't sleep nights, and the nine "Yes, honey, I'll do anything you want" months are all but a blip on the radar compared to the monumental moments of fatherhood. I obviously have no idea, but if I am still writing this in several years, I'll be sure to let you know.
What I learned today is that the most precious of times are worth every bit of pain. All pain that I can live with. I cannot, however, live without the precious moments I have had and will continue to have because of it.
I think of college. I think of so many difficult courses, situations, arguments, etc., all of which made college more enjoyable, valuable and yes, precious. Want more specific? How about the kidney stone I was blessed with on Halloween of my sophomore year? While all my friends are out having fun, dressed up as the Mario Bros cast, I lie in pain on my dorm room futon. You may ask where the precious comes. The precious is in the single friend who came back to take care of me. The one friend who called her nurse mother to figure out what we should do. The single friend that took me to the hospital, waited while I had tests done, took me to the Mankato hospital the following morning and waited their until my mother made it. A friend that in those most painful moments became so very special.
How about marathons? I have not spoken to a single sole who enjoyed mile 25. In fact one even said he was unable to sleep for three days because his legs were just too sore. Although I have not had the opportunity, or maybe have not sought it, I can imagine the precious, unforgettable moment that is crossing the finish line. A recent ecstatic finisher told me, "The medal was totally worth the $75 entry fee." I can't imagine the physically climb of Mount Everest to be the most enjoyable of occasions, but the view from the top...well I've seen pictures. What about Relay for Life? Isn't the whole idea about persevering through the pain in order to have a more precious view on life. On a personal note I can think of hikes, several miles long on difficult terrain while my feet scream for relief. One of the fondest memories I have is the moment I put those travelled feet in a Colorado Lake after six miles of rock, dirt and hill. Our final destination lake, just Tawny and I, in solitude, admiring distant waterfalls.
Love? Marriage? Same story (at least I would bet with marriage). Never physical pain but one that is often times much worse. I have always thought the phrase should be, "sticks and stones can break your bones but words can break the rest." Whether it is loud shouting or shear silence, the arguments and fights or lone nights. These always forgiving moments only make the pleasant times all the more valuable, memorable, lovable, _______ (insert adjective here).
Obviously the most pure example would be childbearing. I am so grateful to never have to go through the pain of childbirth, but I think every mother would tell you the pain is worth the reward. Every father would also agree the squeezed so hard it nearly broke hand, baby cried so long I couldn't sleep nights, and the nine "Yes, honey, I'll do anything you want" months are all but a blip on the radar compared to the monumental moments of fatherhood. I obviously have no idea, but if I am still writing this in several years, I'll be sure to let you know.
What I learned today is that the most precious of times are worth every bit of pain. All pain that I can live with. I cannot, however, live without the precious moments I have had and will continue to have because of it.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
We Are All Zebras
Every person at some point of each day feels trapped, right? If you think about it I would be willing to bet you might start noticing these moments. It doesn't have to be anything big. You could simply feel cornered in the morning during rush hour, not sure if you'll make it to work on time even though it happens everyday and you always make it. Or when you're forced to fall asleep to HGTV instead of the game because their is only one TV in the bedroom.
They could also be more difficult situations, though. I can imagine every parent has wondered at one point or another what life would have been like without children, never doubting for a second that it wouldn't be the same. But knowing that it might have been better, might have been worse. Most adults have undoubtedly stuck it out, or currently are, at a job because it paid for the lifestyle their family had become accustomed to even though the work means nothing to them.
I can happily say, jobless and childless, that these more challenging dilemmas have yet to phase me...they certainly will. Like everyone has the opportunity to decide their lifestyle, I have committed to mine. I have gladly chosen Vern Yip over Michael Cuddyer, Barefoot Contessa over The NBA Finals. When I become a dad I will most certainly choose the imprisonment of fatherhood over all other childless activities. As a now pseudo-uncle of four (pending five), I enjoy every moment I spend with each of them. It excites me to think about having a few of my own someday (don't worry mom and dad) but I can't help but think I will have that taboo of a feeling; that eerie feeling of regret, of something different, dare i say better.
As I write this I feel like I may be rubbing people the wrong way. I, unlike most others, really don't think it is wrong to think about the "what ifs?" in life. You just have to do it differently than most. Their are pros and cons to every question and decision and asking yourself these questions should be no different. What if I was single and could fall asleep to the Minnesota Twins, or the Los Angeles Lakers? Well then I would not be able to see the most beautiful woman in the world when I roll over every morning. And when I have children, what if I was able to go out to more movies, on more dates, to more sporting events. I would then undoubtedly miss out on the universes greatest gift and creation...gazing at each of these miracles every night before they fall sleep.
What I learned today is that we are all zebras. Free to roam the world, doing anything we could possibly conjure but forever trapped behind the black bars of our own decisions. I can think of one thing and one thing only that every person should never regret. One thing that makes all other trapped moments vanish, all other imprisonments feel like cons to the pros of your chosen past, present and future.
And I can only imagine prison to be much more pleasant with someone you love sharing your cell.
They could also be more difficult situations, though. I can imagine every parent has wondered at one point or another what life would have been like without children, never doubting for a second that it wouldn't be the same. But knowing that it might have been better, might have been worse. Most adults have undoubtedly stuck it out, or currently are, at a job because it paid for the lifestyle their family had become accustomed to even though the work means nothing to them.
I can happily say, jobless and childless, that these more challenging dilemmas have yet to phase me...they certainly will. Like everyone has the opportunity to decide their lifestyle, I have committed to mine. I have gladly chosen Vern Yip over Michael Cuddyer, Barefoot Contessa over The NBA Finals. When I become a dad I will most certainly choose the imprisonment of fatherhood over all other childless activities. As a now pseudo-uncle of four (pending five), I enjoy every moment I spend with each of them. It excites me to think about having a few of my own someday (don't worry mom and dad) but I can't help but think I will have that taboo of a feeling; that eerie feeling of regret, of something different, dare i say better.
As I write this I feel like I may be rubbing people the wrong way. I, unlike most others, really don't think it is wrong to think about the "what ifs?" in life. You just have to do it differently than most. Their are pros and cons to every question and decision and asking yourself these questions should be no different. What if I was single and could fall asleep to the Minnesota Twins, or the Los Angeles Lakers? Well then I would not be able to see the most beautiful woman in the world when I roll over every morning. And when I have children, what if I was able to go out to more movies, on more dates, to more sporting events. I would then undoubtedly miss out on the universes greatest gift and creation...gazing at each of these miracles every night before they fall sleep.
What I learned today is that we are all zebras. Free to roam the world, doing anything we could possibly conjure but forever trapped behind the black bars of our own decisions. I can think of one thing and one thing only that every person should never regret. One thing that makes all other trapped moments vanish, all other imprisonments feel like cons to the pros of your chosen past, present and future.
And I can only imagine prison to be much more pleasant with someone you love sharing your cell.
Monday, May 31, 2010
What I Could Have Learned from Adam Sandler
I should start by explaining the title, Candide 2.0. Written by Voltaire in the mid 18th century, Candide follows the life of a once sheltered boy as he journeys the world, witnessing and experiencing extreme hardships. Now, graduated, I am no longer that sheltered boy. Of course I believe I have witnessed or experienced my fair share of tribulations, I also understand the most strenuous times are certainly yet to come. I can only hope, the most rewarding will also follow. And thus commences my journey.
In the movie Billy Madison, the namesake lead character played by Adam Sandler says to one of his 3rd grade friends after he states his excitement for high school, "Don't you ever say that. Stay here. Stay here as long as you can. For the love of god, cherish it. You have to cherish it." It took me over ten years to understand.
What I learned Monday, after my last semester of college, after a memorable senior week, after an astounding commencement and family grill out, after a final night in St. Peter, MN and the Flame and Patrick's and the Duplex and the Octa and most importantly Green Acres...and after a tear-jerking morning cleanup, was to cherish. I finally understand Billy Madison.
What I learned on that 50 minute drive from St. Peter to my new home in Chaska was that certain moments, certain memories, can't solely be remembered. They need to be tattooed on our brains, appreciated as if they will never transpire again...because they won't. Of course we all will remember the "bigger" moments like commencement or the senior week Johnny Holm concert, we have the pictures to gawk at. But how about moments we hardly think twice about as they occur, even less afterward. Maybe the look in a mother's eye after graduation. That look of complete and utter love and pride as she hugs you like you were a newborn child. I have never felt prouder to be a son, nor she a mother. I have never existed so much. Or how about the high five of a four-year friend that you have followed from dorm hallway, to dorm room, to two year housemate, when you cross home plate in a friendly intramural softball game. Or maybe he followed you. What does it matter? Moments as these transcend the boundaries of a 2.5 inch digital camera screen. These moments are more important than any college diploma, or handshake from the college president who wouldn't know your name even though he heard it milliseconds before.
Their are two things I will never forget from Monday, May 31st 2010. The hybrid handshake/hug I gave to each roommate (and one roommate's girlfriend) upon each of them leaving, including myself and the image of my collegiate home, St. Peter, Gustavus Adolphus College, Green Acres, as it dissolved from my rear view mirror. No picture, no video, no visual evidence that these moments ever occurred except for in all our bodies, minds, hearts and souls. They will all be remembered and appreciated.
What I learned on Monday was the single most important word in the English language is "cherish". These moments will above all be cherished by me, because of you all, for as long as time allows me to do so.
In the movie Billy Madison, the namesake lead character played by Adam Sandler says to one of his 3rd grade friends after he states his excitement for high school, "Don't you ever say that. Stay here. Stay here as long as you can. For the love of god, cherish it. You have to cherish it." It took me over ten years to understand.
What I learned Monday, after my last semester of college, after a memorable senior week, after an astounding commencement and family grill out, after a final night in St. Peter, MN and the Flame and Patrick's and the Duplex and the Octa and most importantly Green Acres...and after a tear-jerking morning cleanup, was to cherish. I finally understand Billy Madison.
What I learned on that 50 minute drive from St. Peter to my new home in Chaska was that certain moments, certain memories, can't solely be remembered. They need to be tattooed on our brains, appreciated as if they will never transpire again...because they won't. Of course we all will remember the "bigger" moments like commencement or the senior week Johnny Holm concert, we have the pictures to gawk at. But how about moments we hardly think twice about as they occur, even less afterward. Maybe the look in a mother's eye after graduation. That look of complete and utter love and pride as she hugs you like you were a newborn child. I have never felt prouder to be a son, nor she a mother. I have never existed so much. Or how about the high five of a four-year friend that you have followed from dorm hallway, to dorm room, to two year housemate, when you cross home plate in a friendly intramural softball game. Or maybe he followed you. What does it matter? Moments as these transcend the boundaries of a 2.5 inch digital camera screen. These moments are more important than any college diploma, or handshake from the college president who wouldn't know your name even though he heard it milliseconds before.
Their are two things I will never forget from Monday, May 31st 2010. The hybrid handshake/hug I gave to each roommate (and one roommate's girlfriend) upon each of them leaving, including myself and the image of my collegiate home, St. Peter, Gustavus Adolphus College, Green Acres, as it dissolved from my rear view mirror. No picture, no video, no visual evidence that these moments ever occurred except for in all our bodies, minds, hearts and souls. They will all be remembered and appreciated.
What I learned on Monday was the single most important word in the English language is "cherish". These moments will above all be cherished by me, because of you all, for as long as time allows me to do so.
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