Sunday, August 29, 2004
Life, The Musical
I just got back from seeing my friend Amy in John Walker: The Musical. It was quite good actually. And my friend was just fabulous, of course. I mean, she wouldn't be my friend if she wasn't insanely talented. It gives me hope that one day I do something with my talent, and by "talent" I mean mediocre, grammatical inferior thing I call "writing."

Right now, my mind is elsewhere. I am headed to Los Angeles in three days for some much needed rest and relaxation with friends and family.

posted by runnerbird | 8:56 PM

Friday, August 27, 2004
The Games People Play
The 2004 Olympics are slowly drawing to a close and not a moment too soon as far as I'm concerned. I want my life back. I've spent the last fifteen days either watching the Olympic coverage on TV (who knew badminton was so much fun), awaiting Olympic game results on NBC's real time event tracker or talking about the Olympics on message boards (okay, the last bit sounded a lot less dorky in my head).

These games have been filled with controversy, triumph and heartache. The thrill of victory and the agony of defeat. The political, the personal, the literal and the metaphorical all wrapped up in a sporting game. Ordinary people doing extraordinary things in the water, on the field, in the sun, in the moonlight, pushing their body and wills to the absolute limit for one single moment of glory unlike any other. To be able to declare yourself the best in the world at something.

For me, the Olympics are always about moments. I remember watching the 84 Olympics and tumbling around my living room floor, pretending I was Mary Lou Retton. I remember watching the 96 Olympics as Kerri Strugg vaulted, stick her landing and than collapsed in pain (this moment still gives me chills). It is human drama at its purest, at its finest. It seems only logical than that these Olympics, in the birth place of drama, were filled with moments that might still give me chills in ten years. And some moments that... well... just make me wonder.

The "Hey, If I Win a Gold, I Want to Do That" Award for Best Celebration: When the Greek synchronized divers won the gold medal, not only did the arena erupted in celebration, the divers and their coaches all dived into the pool with a Greek flag.

The Chaka Khan "I am Every Woman" Award: The slogan for this Olympic games should have been US Women RULE! The US softball team is arguably the best team in the history of the games. They only gave up one run. The US Soccer team won a grueling match in overtime giving a nice storybook ending to the careers of Mia Hamm and the rest of the 91 women's world cup team. The US Beach Volleyball team of May and Welsh entered the games as the best team in the in beach volleyball circuit, having won all their matches. They left as gold winners who dominated the rest of the field. The US swimming 4x100 relay team shattered a record that stood for almost twenty years. We are Women. We are Sport. Hear us Roar!

The "Damn, it sucks to be you right now" Award for Worst Olympic Controversy: Paul Hamm, you worked your whole life towards the goal of Olympic champion and when you finall achieve the pinnacle of this dream, it turns into your worst nightmare in which you turn out to be the biggest villian in the world. Damn, it really sucks to be you Paul Hamm, but think of it this way, at least your are now more famous than your twin brother. So, I'm sure your parents love you more now. Sorry, Morgan.

The "If I told you you have a beautiful body, would you hold it against me" Award for My Olympic Crush: Okay, so Michael Phelps was just a bit overexposed even before he hit the water and yeah, he isn't exactly the best looking Olympian and well, he does have freaky long arms, but Michael also has the best body of anyone at those games. Perfect shoulders. Perfect biceps. Perfect abs. Wait, what was I saying? Oh right, he is nineteen so I should really stop thinking about it.

The "Why Do I Like You, I Don't Even Know You" Award for Freakiest Olympic Realization: I love volleyball so it was no surprise that I found myself really into the beach volleyball matches. I found myself rooting for Misty May (despite the porn name) and Kerri Walsh. They were a fearsome twosome on the court. I particularly liked Kerri Walsh for her style of play and insane blocking ability. It wasn't until the semi-final match that I realized why I liked Kerri Walsh so much. Walsh bears more than a slight resemblance to my friend (and ex-manager at Bluewave) Lara. They have the same build, the same coloring, even some of the same hand gestures. You know the saying that every person out there has a twin, well I found Lara's and even her twin is freakishly athletic. But if these two were ever to go mano y mano, my money is on Lara. I still believe she could kick anyone's ass at anything... well, except volleyball.

The "Why Must He Represent Us" Award for Ugly Americanism: Swimmer Gary Hall Jr. embodies everything that the world hates about us. He is arrogant. He is loud. He is a show-off. He speaks before he thinks. He whines and complains when he doesn't get his way. Urgh, why must you be from our country.

The "Glad You Play For Our Team" Award for Classiest Olympian: Marion Jones, Lauryn Williams and the rest of the 4x100 meter relay team. They were the favorites going into to the final with the best time in the world, but they botched the baton pass and were disqualified during the final. In a post-race interview, the assy NBC interviewer tried to get Marion Jones to assert blame, but she answered "no one is to blame. We came here a team and we will leave as a team." Marion, I love you forever. I will now go buy various Nike branded, Marion Jones approved athletic gear from my local Niketown.

The "Damn Agony of Defeat Is Worst Than Death" Award for Worst Olympic Defeat: The aforementioned 4x100 meter relay team. Man, I wanted to give Lauryn Williams, the youngest member of the team, a big hug after the loss.

The "Wait, This Isn't the Gay Games Is It?" Award for Most HoYay Moment: Maybe it was the size of their uniforms or should I say bikinis? Maybe it was the fact that they hit each other on the ass after every single point scored? Or maybe it was because the moment they won the gold medal they rolled around on the sand together in way that made me think that for just a second I was watching Cinemax. But there is no denying that Misty May and Kerri Walsh's celebration on the court after their gold medal victory in beach volleyball gave millions of people pause. I hear some in the audience have all ready complained to NBC, calling the moment "indecent." Whatever, I just call it ... HoYaytastic.

posted by runnerbird | 11:54 PM

Tuesday, August 24, 2004
Flying
If there was any doubt that I am the cheesiest human alive (those of you who have read my fiction should have known this all ready), I submit the following as "Exhibit A" in supporting my case. Halfway through my afternoon jog, I realized that now that I have a wondrous iPod in my possession, I could listen to any number of songs to get me motivated to run the grueling last lap. In the past, Iggy Pop's "Lust For Life" usually got me through it. Sometimes, if it was a particular nasty run, I would have to resort to Prodigy's "Smack My Bitch" up to carry me the last 1500 meters, but today I found the song that will probably get me through the next three hundred and sixty five days of running.

With visions of running up Philadelphia's City Hall steps and hitting frozen slabs of beef running through my head, I set my workout playlist with the theme from Rocky "Gonna Fly Now" as the last song. And you know what, it works. I don't think I've jogged faster in my last lap than I did today. Of course "faster" means just under three minutes for one lap. Go me!

posted by runnerbird | 10:01 PM

Sunday, August 22, 2004
Classic
There are days when I forgot that I am twenty five. Most days, I feel no older than seventeen. Truth be told, I am essentially the same person now than I was then, except I am a lot more at peace with myself. There are days when I forget that almost ten years have past between being aged seventeen and now. Today, I made the mistake of clicking on VH1. Their Classic VH1 weekend dissolved all my illusion of being just seventeen. The channel was mocking me, "you're old, sucka!"

When did The Police and George Michael become "classic"? (You're old, sucka!) Wasn't it just three years ago that I was grooving to Bruce Springsteen's new "Born in the U.S.A" album? (You're old, sucka!) Wait, you mean The Cosby Show has been off the air for almost ten years? (You're old, sucka!). What is this new form of music called rap and can I beat box with y'all? (You're old, sucka!).

With the MTV's Video Music Awards airing in a couple of weeks, this "you're old, sucka!" feeling will be lingering for a few weeks after. I should really get my classic self to bed soon. It's almost ten o'clock, after all.

posted by runnerbird | 9:54 PM

Wednesday, August 18, 2004
2004, A.I.
Until the day I have a child, my life will be separated into two segments, my life before my Apple iPod and my life after Apple iPod. This little device has been in my possession for only a few days and I am all ready wondering what how I lived twenty five years without it.

Sure, two thousands songs at my fingertips is excessive and even a bit absurd, but there are days when only hearing Bob Marley's "Three Little Birds" will make everything better. It might just be too much of a good thing.

posted by runnerbird | 10:40 PM

Tuesday, August 17, 2004
If It Makes You Happy
Coffee, how I've missed thee. I will never leave you again. I swear this to you. My love and devotion will be potent and profound from now until the end of time. If there was any doubt in my mind about drinking java every morning, it was put to rest yesterday morning when I solved a programming bug that had plagued me for the last two weeks in less than a minute after a few sips of my Yucan cup of joe. Apparently, depriving my body of caffeine makes me stupid. Who knew.

As that prophet Troy Dyer once said, it is the little pleasures and joys that make life worth living. So now that coffee is back on my list of "little things that make me beyond happy," I've decided to put together a list of other little things that make me happy (making pointless list makes me happy, but that goes without saying):

Stevie Wonder "Do I Do": This is ten minutes of twenty-eight seconds of pop perfection. Sure, Stevie has probably made better songs, but this song makes me love life in a way that is usually reserved for legal stimulants. Maybe it is the way he sings "When I see you on the street, my whole booooooody get weak..." or way he breaks it down by singing "I have the pleasure to present on my album Mr. Dizzy Gillespe...blow." I don't even care that this song was sampled by Will Smith for the Wild Wild West Soundtrack and that, ladies and gentlemen, is love.

Singles "I was nowhere near your neighborhood": Writer/director Cameron Crowe is responsible for some of the most icon images of the last couple of decades. From Lloyd Dobbler holding the boom box over his head in Say Anything to Jerry Maguire yelling "Show me the money" in his office, the man always knows how to capture moments, but my favorite scene comes from Crowe's under-appreciated 1992 film Singles. Steve and Linda have finished a nice pseudo date, but when Steve tries to kiss Linda, she pulls away. Later on that night, Steve shows up at Linda's door and says "I was just ... nowhere near your neighborhood." They kiss. I smile.

Starbuck's Ice Cream: It tastes like it is bad for you and it is. Loaded with fat, sugar and caffeine, this tasty treat has everything going against it, but it is just too good. My favorite flavor is Mudpie, a tasty mixture of coffee ice cream, chocolate syrup and pieces of cookie. My arteries are hardening as I type.

Robert Doisneau's "Le baiser de l Hotel de Ville": If this photo doesn't send warm, fuzzy shivers up your spine, you are simply not human.

posted by runnerbird | 11:01 PM

Sunday, August 15, 2004
I'm an Addict
I have tried and I have failed. I am back on the coffee train. I have declared coffee the winner in this contest of wills. I am no longer strong enough to resist temptation. Tomorrow morning, I will once again brew a cup to take with me on the commute to work. I will once again drown myself in a nice iced coffee when the temperatures gets a little too hot. Hell, I might even have an ice cold Coke sometime soon. Caffeine, you have won. I am your bitch.

What did me in? Was it the on and off headaches? The smell of freshly-brewed coffee following me everywhere? The fact that on Friday afternoon, one of my co-workers brought a gallon of freshly brewed coffee that was left over from a meeting? No, I blame you Quentin Tarantino! You and your poisoned pen.

I was watching the special edition of Pulp Fiction this morning and there is a scene where Jules goes on and on about a cup of coffee. "Wow, this is some of that gourmet shit!" This line did it. I thought to myself I don't think I can exist on this planet without ever tasting good gourmet coffee ever again. A nice blended hazel nut rich French Roast. Mmmm. Not tasting this ever again is not what I call living.

And do I really want to live to be ninety anyway? Not really. If I die at sixty-two sipping a nice cup of Colombian Supreme, I think I will die happy. Okay, so maybe I should cut back and not full my 14oz travel mug to the brim. And yeah, I probably shouldn't load it with fifty tons of sugar, but I think I could live with the consequences of my decision. So, bring on the hypertension, anemia and narrowed blood vessels. Just bring it. It's worth it. It is so worth it.

Okay, maybe I'll try to ease myself into decafe or something.

posted by runnerbird | 8:55 PM

Saturday, August 14, 2004
Game On
I just can't get enough. Have I gone insane? This is the only explanation for sitting through Olympic fencing, synchronized diving and badminton earlier this afternoon. My favorite "underappreciated" sport of the games is probably indoor and beach volleyball. I played indoor volleyball in high school. I was so good, I ended up being score keeper for the team. My finest sporting moment, however, happened on the volleyball court during a training match. I was in center position at the net. I blocked a shot, sending it back over the net and scoring a point. That is what we in the volleyball world refer to as a "kill" or wait, was that a "stuff," I forget. It was a fluke that never happened again, but I sometimes relive that shining, glorious moment where for one brief second I had mad skills on the court.

I guess this is why I love the Olympics so much. I can live out my dreams of being a world-class athlete without leaving the comfort of my living room couch. By day five of the games, I have usually convinced myself that, with a little help and training, I too could do the fifty yard dash in under ten seconds. I could do a tumbling pass with a difficulty degree of five and stick the landing. I could probably swim the one hundred meter freestyle in world record time, if, you know, I just learned to swim.

posted by runnerbird | 10:59 PM

Friday, August 13, 2004
Let the Games Begin
I've waited four years for this moment. Everyone in my neighborhood has waited almost a decade, some would probably argue they have waited one hundred and four years for the Olympic games to return to the place of their birth. I settled in to watch the opening ceremonies from Athens, Greece. As I have explained in an earlier blog entry, my neighborhood is Greek. No, I mean really, really Greek. So Greek, in fact, that NBC anchor Bob Costas felt the need to point out half of Astoria, Queens is Greek during his commentary. A fact I don't dispute. I live in an apartment complex called the Acropolis so yep, really, really Greek.

Since I grew up in this neighborhood, I was more than a little excited to witness these opening ceremonies. I am not Greek, but I was surrounded by Greek culture, history and language for most of my life. In a word, the ceremonies were fantastic. It was very Clash of the Titans meets condensed Greek History as told through Greek art and architecture. The architecture geek in me was making delighted noises because I recognized a lot of art. Ohhh, that's from the frieze. Ahh, that's the sculpture cited by many as the first "realistic" representation of the human form.

As cheesy as this may sound, I love the concept of these games. The world coming together for a little over two weeks in competition to determine who is the best. According to a recent Sports Illustrated article, there are other types of "coming together" between athletes (during the last Olympics the condom machine at the Olympic village was restocked every two hours!), but I digress.

posted by runnerbird | 11:52 PM

Wednesday, August 11, 2004
Guilty as Charged
Inspired by an amazing series of articles written by the brilliant minds responsible for TWoP and Fametracker which detail some of our guilty pleasures, I thought I would confess some of the things I enjoy in the privacy of my darkened room. Just promise you won't hold it against me.

80s/Early 90s Made For TV Movies: The 80s did everything bigger, hair, jackets and made for TV movies. If you were alive in the 80s, you probably know that Sunday night on all three major networks was ruled by made for TV movies usually based on some real-life story about a woman overcoming some great obstacle. Or they were based on some trashy Danielle Steele novel with high doses of primetime safe pseudo sex with some plot about a woman making it in the corporate world. They probably starred Jaclyn Smith, Valerie Bertinelli or Meredith Baxter and you probably are ashamed to admit that somewhere in your VHS collection you have The World's Oldest Living Bridesmaid on tape. And if you do, could you make me a copy?

John Denver: No matter how hard I try, I can't look cool singing along to John Denver. At least Jim Croce had a bit of an edge (he did sing about Bad Leroy Brown at any rate) and didn't sing "he was born in the summer of his twenty-seventh year." A kid from Queens shouldn't know all the words to "Take me Home Country Road," but I do. If properly intoxicated, I'm sure you could convince me to sing along in a crowded bar. After a few sips of hard liquor "West Virginia, Mountain Mamma" become the most profound lyrics ever written. Wasn't that a Coors Light commercial?

Mutant X: On the television food chain, Mutant X ranks slightly above those Windsor Pilates infomercials and old episodes of Friday the 13th: The Series, but I can't stop watching this show. I will readily admit that most of its appeal lies with one Lauren Lee Smith, but even her charm and allure only go so far. This show is craptastic. From its not so special "special effects" and less than impressive action sequences, this show was made for a 2am time slot on early Sunday morning. It is the perfect show to take the edge off a long night of drinking. Nothing makes senses, but you find yourself not thinking too hard to figure out the details. All you seem to concentrate on is how Emma looks cute in her black jacket and how Jesse looks good with a five o'clock shadow. Plot? What plot?

Angelina Jolie Movies: Okay, she has an Oscar and two Golden Globes for her acting work, but you have to admit she has been in some pretty shitty movies. Oh, who am I kidding? Some very shitty movies. Somewhere during Beyond Borders, probably right before her character is blown to bits by a landmine, I realized I have spent a large chunk of my twenties watching Angelina Jolie cry, pout, wink and strip in some less than stellar films. Sure, her work in Girl, Interrupted and Gia is perhaps some of the finest work of the decade, but than there is Foxfire, Original Sin, Life or Something Like It, Tomb Raider series and the aforementioned Beyond Borders which only makes me want to ask one question, Angelina, why? But does this stop me from watching? Of course not. Her last film Taking Lives hits video shelves next Tuesday and I am counting the minutes all ready.

posted by runnerbird | 11:17 PM

Tuesday, August 10, 2004
It's All In Your Head
Three days and counting. This is how long I've had a tension headache. I am currently working on a new site launch and the pressure is starting to get to me. Looks like I picked the wrong week to stop drinking coffee. I read up on all the symptoms of caffeine withdrawal and I have most of them. Headache. Check. Irritability. Check. Lethargic. Check. Why have I stopped drinking coffee again? I've drank two cups of coffee (or more) every single day for the past four and half years. This is roughly 1460 days. Maybe I should have tried to reduce my intake rather than quit cold turkey. But than again I am not really too bright when it comes to this things.

Of course, it could just be my job. I walk into work every morning with this sense of dread. What could possibly go wrong today? What stupid thing will I have to correct? I felt this way at my last job too, but it took almost two and half years for that feeling to sink in. It has taken only nine months at my current place of employment.

Towards the end of my tenure at Bluewave, I was constantly getting headaches. I was forgetting things. I was having trouble concentrating. I thought someting was really wrong. I went to a neurologist. She ran a series of test, including an MRI and an EEG. Thousands of dollars in test later, the diagnosis was that I didn't have a brain tumor, I was just really bored. Once I was laid off from Bluewave and took a year off, all my symptoms went away.

So maybe I should take this as a sign. Maybe I should start looking for something better. of course, "something better" is probably impossible to find. I should just give it all up and become a starving grad student. Or become a teacher like almost everyone else I know.

I'm hoping my upcoming trip to Los Angeles will be just the fun I need to recharge my batteries and keep me going for another few months, but something tells me I probably won't make it to Christmas. Or I will be working there for the rest of my life.

posted by runnerbird | 9:47 PM

Sunday, August 08, 2004
iPod-ed, Part Deux
I finally brought my iPod and it is everything I dreamed of and more. I've loaded my music collection on it all ready and can't wait to take it on the train ride to work tomorrow morning. I know have two thousand plus songs from which to select. Will I be in the mood for 10cc or The Beatles? The Beastie Boys? Perhaps a little Nirvana. Bonnie Raitt. Oh, the possibilities. I will not be able to control my excitement for my newest toy when I go to Los Angeles next month. The plane ride will be so much fun.

Was it worth the $426 I paid? I'll let you know once the new toy buzz wears off.

posted by runnerbird | 9:12 PM

Thursday, August 05, 2004
Dead and Buried
As that old saying goes, there are only two things certain in this life, death and taxes. Thankfully, creator-producer Alan Ball decided to bring us a stirring family drama about a funeral home rather than a drama about tax accountants. I think he made a wise decision. Six Feet Under is currently airing its fifth season on HBO, but because I am one cheap human being, I have only seen the two season available on DVD. I have seen enough, however, to proclaim Six Feet Under is one of my favorite shows in the history of television. Yet, if hard-pressed to give an exact reason why I think this is one of the best things on TV, it would probably take a me while to come up with a coherent answer.

The Fishers are a pretty typical television family. There is the rebellious son, the responsible, hard-working son, the misunderstood, often ignored youngest child, the mysterious, emotional distant father and the mother who is thinks she knows everything, but really doesn't have a clue. But this is where the similarities between this show and other shows end. Nate, the oldest, rebellious one, has a responsible streak and is constantly trying to do right by himself and his family. David, the responsible one, is a gay man trying to balance the world's expectations with what he believes. Claire, the youngest one, is still trying to find her place and her voice. Nathaniel, the father of this clan, died in the first episode of the first season, but constantly haunts the place, giving his son's advice only the way he could. Ruth, the mother, is more alert and aware than her children give her credit for. To put things simply, I love these characters. They are all deeply flawed, unique and human.

My favorite character is Ruth, brought to stirring life by Frances Conroy. Maybe it is because she reminds me a bit of my mother. A relate a lot to Claire. I was a bit like Claire when I was younger, except I never dated a drug-addicted guy who robbed stores and shot people in the face at stop lights.

Second season chronicles Nate Fisher dealing with a potential fatal brain disease. As soap opera as this plot twist sounds, it is explored with thought and emotion. Nate kept his diagnosis a secret before finally breaking down and confessing his condition to his brother. While another show might have treated this season with an overwhelming sense of melodrama, this show held the camera back and let the scene play out honestly.

I always feel a bit crap after watching this show because I realize that I will die someday. I am slowly dying right now and there is no escape, no salvation from this fate. Secondly, I realize how much other shows I love *cough* The L Word *cough* try to be this show, but fail in every respect. If only every show could be like Six Feet Under. The world would be a make better place. Okay, that probably isn't true, but I would be a lot more entertained.

posted by runnerbird | 10:40 PM

Sunday, August 01, 2004
iPod-ed
I've made a very important decision. I've decided to buy an iPod. Good thing I thought long and hard about this decision. I was all ready to buy an iPod three weeks ago, but I got cold feet. It warmed me all over to learn this case of cold feet actually served a purpose. A whole new generation of iPods were released last week and the 20 gig model is now a hundred bucks cheaper. Like I said, all warm and fuzzy.

Looking through my 10 gig, 2,311 files of music, here are some interesting notes. Well, interesting to me at any rate:

Oldest File: Saint Etienne - We're in the City (9/5/2000)
Largest File: Howard Stern - Morning of 9/11/01
Most mp3-ed Artist: Madonna - 42 Files
Most mp3-ed Band: The Beatles - 36 Files
Most mp3-ed Decade: The 90s - 443 Files

posted by runnerbird | 9:01 PM