Friday, February 27, 2009

Chugging The Mountain Dew, Sucking It Up, And Moving Forward

I've been working in Richmond for the last couple of weeks. I get up at 5:00AM. I leave at 6:00AM. I stop by Starbucks to check my Email. I get to the office and my unconnected desktop at 8:00AM. (This morning I can't come into 11:00AM, but I still got up at 5:00AM). I try to leave the office by 3:30PM or 4:00PM to beat rush hour.

In some ways, I hate it. Some of this hate is specifically related to what I am doing. I really doubt the power of statistics when it comes to making big complicated dynamic decisions. I might get into more details later, but let's leave it at that for the time being.

In other ways, I like the routine of it all. I go home and play my parents' Wii. I really enjoy tennis, bowling and Wii Fit. I really like telling everyone that I have been up at 5:00AM for ten straight days. I like watching the sun rise on my commute in, and the sun starting to set on my commute home.

But the other day, at about 10:30AM, I almost lost it. The uncertainties of my life, of these times really got to me. I was going to leave and not come back. I was ready to say "fuck it" and start all over. I was ready to push reset on my life, tell my Dad it was time to open the restaurant/pool room/coffee shop/grocery store/convenience store he has always talked about. It was time to make my own luck. It was time to make myself a real man, not an graduate student, not an economic researcher.

I walked to the break room, shotgunned a can of Mountain Dew in 45 seconds, took a deep breath, and went back to my desk.

My time will come.

Monday, February 16, 2009

My Day

1. I forgot my belt. This was a fireable offense at the grocery store. I kept my shirt-tail untucked most of the day. This looks sloppy. Tucking in without a belt looks like crap.

2. I was supposed to have a meeting at 9:00AM. The professor didn't show up. This did not help my day. It kind of killed my productivity. Of course, the productivity reduction is my fault, but this is what I was getting at in number 4 of this post.

3. I had a sinus drop. Ginger ale helped. Some cookies calmed the stomach down, but sinus drops are not fun.

4. I am upgrading Vista. "This could take up to several hours."

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

"Wild At Heart" Or Another Therapeutic Dump

I am who I fucking am.

If all you want is to spread your ideas but refuse to write, who are you?

If all you want is to share your passion but refuse to commit, who are you?

If all you want is to drink but refuse to swallow, who are you?

If all you want is to change but refuse to try, who are you?

If all you want is confidence but refuse to be proud, who are you?

If all you want is independence but refuse to separate, who are you?

If all you want is acceptance but refuse to congratulate, who are you?

If all you want is life but refuse to live, who are you?

At the end of the day, you must be who you fucking are, even if it hurts, even if it is tough, even if it makes you cry.

I am who I am.

Monday, February 09, 2009

Football And Baseball

There is something different about football players. Basketball players don't have it. Baseball players certainly don't have it. I guess it is a kind of humilty born in the trenches, born in the fact that players suffer through two-a-days, suffer through constant bruises and collisions.

Football players have a respect. A friend told me that football teaches: "If you attack something like a crazy man, there's no time to worry and it's so much fun." But the craziness is tempered by the humilty that comes with getting knocked on your ass, by the humility that you need teammates to be successful. A quarterback without a line or recievers or running backs might show flashes, but he'll never win.

Yeah, there are great players, special players who deserve a degree of cockiness. But no fan can really see your face when you're on the field. I am not saying there aren't assholes who play football, but even T.O. cried for Tony Romo once. And the majority of players know they are one unlucky injury away from being released or not walking right again.

I think this is why nobody really cares about steroids in the NFL. I don't know A-Rod. I never will. I really don't care what he took. But I don't like him that much. He just doesn't seem humble. Neither does Roger Clemens. Neither did most of the baseball players I knew.

My dad always said that some guys just needed their ass kicked. To me, A-Rod just needs his ass kicked once or twice.