Oh The Burbs

I'm in a war, again. No, not the job hunt, the "hither hence friends, to the 'burbs" war. It is brutal. There are many factions in this conflict, all of whom have staked their territory and are fiercely recruiting to their areas.

For instance, a certain couple, who shall remain nameless, is actively recruiting all you recently married and soon-to-be-married couples to, well, I won't mention the area but let's just say it sounds like "Schmeyerland". Don't go. Six-Ten traffic, and your kids will have to compete with all those national merit scholars from Bellaire. Don't do that to your hypothetical children.

There are others, many others, all over town. Some in Katy, some in the Woodlands. You will have to make a choice, but know this: if you move to Cypress I will help paint your house as well. And we'll hang out, bar-b-que, maybe we'll go work out at Lifetime Fitness. What are you going to do in Bellaire, play chess?

So listen friends, when it comes time to make that decision of where you and your significant other are going to live, remember me, your old buddy Josh, who loves kids and puppies, is handy around the house and has plenty of yard knowledge. Hither hence to Cypress.

He's Back!

Hello Reader. I know I was gone longer than you expected. I know I went out for a pack of cigarettes and left you holding the baby, and I'm sorry. But I'm back, and I thank you for reading again. I hope you've been well.

I don't want to bore you with where I've been, or what I've been up to. Just know that I missed you. Ok, if we're going to reconnect, here's the run down: I went to UH for the summer and did well, we have another dog, Sadie, I'm working for my parents while I job hunt.

Extrapolate at your own will.

Of course, more happened. No, that wasn't ALL I was up to, but those are some of the relevant parts. The rest I prefer not to add to the eternal cyber-record.

For those of you that feel that you are withering away at your jobs, I offer this- take a vacation, a day off, find a hobby to relieve stress, do what you have to do to not make any overly-romantic impulsive decisions. The market is brutal right now. Forget about retail jobs. Between cutbacks and hiring freezes, some major retailers like Gap are reporting and increase of 33% in job applications.

And the folks applying to the old "college stand-by" jobs are not your fresh faced post adolescents looking to break through. These applicants are well educated and significantly over-qualified.

There was a time when being a Marine veteran, bilingual, and having work experience was enough to help my resume float to the top, but not these days. I think things are getting better, slowly. For instance I noticed that last year, and well into this one, that the average age of the check out people had risen. I wasn't used to so many forty and fifty somethings (if not older) bagging groceries. I couldn't let these good people bag my Blue Bell and whole wheat. on more than one occasion I rushed to bag with them.

But now that I'm out of the cocoon of school and banging in the job market, I feel like I'm in for a fight!

How dare I re-open the blog with a stream-of-consciousness! But, I gotta tell you. This is the way I'm stepping out there. Reaching down and grabbing a hand full of boot-strap.

I hope you're well Reader, it's good to be back. Wherever this is.

Windfall

Yesterday, fortunes smiled on me. The Geniuses at the Apple store were unable to fix my Mac, so they ended up having to give me a brand new one. I've spent countless dollars on warranties for anything over a hundred bucks and one finally paid dividends.

Later that day, my brother-in-law gave Dana and I four Diamond level tickets to the Astros game. The best thing about sitting right behind home plate: the food. Free hamburgers, hot dogs, cheesecake, ice cream, soda, peanuts, popcorn, frozen lemonade, cookies, brownies, fried chicken, and on and on. And it's amazing how they treat you down there. Even the cops are chipper. "Thank you, sir, for joining us today. Have a safe drive home."

No, thank you officer.

Now that I've cashed out my Karma account, I wonder what this week will bring.

My deep, dark secret

My dog sucks my ear lobes. I don't willingly let her do it, but as I sit on the couch in a television induced stupor, I snap back to reality when a dog tongue reaches my ear drum, or I feel the greedy suckling of a hungry puppy at my ear lobe. I really hope my ear lobes don't look like dog teats. That might actually bring down my self esteem. There's no preparing for that one ahead of time. You just have to deal with whether or not your ears look like canine reproductive organs.

We got ATT U-Verse yesterday. The set up took quite a long time, but the DVR's geek factor made it worthwhile. I only have one concern about our new cable system: there is a bright blue light on the cable box that never turns off. It isn't noticeable at all while you're watching tv, but once the lights are off, and you're comfortably in bed, you can't help but feel like you're being video taped. Or maybe like you're looking into a movie projector. Or being abducted by aliens. Or maybe you CAN take too much NyQuil and all of this is just an unsettling episode.

But since there was no NyQuil involved last night, the blue light was in fact annoying as all hell. Not ALL hell, just the ring of fire where the devil tortures you with his handy dandy pen light. The only solution was to put a pair of socks over the light, to which Dana commented, just as I was drifting off, "I hope those don't catch on fire." Thanks babe. I'm desperately trying to avoid dreaming about being molested by the family dog and now I have to deny the fear that our house might burn down.

Reader, when you go into a slump, when life becomes mundane or frustrating, you have to look for the humor in your day. It's often in the details, or in the akward, slobbery affection of an amorous pooch.

In loving memory of the most interesting man in the world

It has too often been the case that I've found myself saying, "I wish I had taken more time to get to know him."

Henrique Wauters was a survivor in the greatest sense. Born to a Jewish family in Brazil in 1920, he returned to Europe where he was forced to flee from Nazi persecution. "Henry" evaded the Germans, but his family did not. The chase took him through Belgium, Holland and eventually France- where he fought as a part of the French resistance. He was eventually captured and imprisoned in a German camp until freed by the Allies.

Henry spoke English, French, Spanish and Portuguese. He lived throughout Europe, Brazil and the United States. He was married once before he married my tia Irma and had five children with his first wife. I state these things coarsely because these are the facts I remember learning as a child. I will not embellish my recollection, I would rather honor the truths that I recall.

I knew him as tio "Rick", and it wasn't until his eighty-ninth birthday party that I realized it was only my immediate family that called him by this name. My aunt Irma and other aunts and uncles called him "Henry". In retrospect, it is fitting that he answered to more than one name. His experiences were almost too many for one lifetime and it is appropriate that he be given the space of two names to tell his story.

As we entered the party last Saturday, I saw his six-foot-three frame sunken into the couch.

His head turned as his failing eyes searched for the sound of an opening door.

"Oh, Irma, someone's here", he said. I greeted him with a squeeze of his hand and wished him a happy birthday. The house no longer smelled like rich pipe tobacco, but I wished for the fragrance that as a child, I associated with him.

Tio Rick loved to talk. Of his many tales, jokes and observations, two sentences said before a farewell five years ago, saved my life. "Don't be a hero, you know? Do your job, look out for the guy next to you, and come home", he said in his deep and ambiguously French accent. Although I was rigid with anxiety about fighting in Iraq, my uncle's hands on my shoulders and the steadiness in his eyes granted me reprieve from the anticipation of war. It was more than a "chin up", from an uncle, it felt more like a wise grandfather imbuing me with familiar wisdom.

After greeting the other members of my family, I rushed to sit by him on the couch, and thanked him for his advice. His reply was as sincere and pragmatic as his words five years earlier.

"It was what we did in France, you know? I always wondered what good a medal of honor was if they gave it out posthumously. The people who love you would rather have you home than have your medals, you know?"

These comments carried Henry's mind off to his days in the resistance. As his voice grew excited with the tales of his youth, his sons left me to him, perhaps because they had heard the stories more times than I had- or maybe because like myself, they were saddened to think that there might only be a few more tellings of Rick's adventures.

We ate dinner, and gave tio Rick his presents. He thought my gift of cologne was fine and said, "Oh, Josh likes the nicer things, eh?" I was happy to see the old man smile and laugh that honest, booming laugh from the depths of his belly. "Thank God it's not another bottle of cognac", said my aunt Irma.

The afternoon passed and we began to leave for the hour-long trip south to Houston. I stopped and unsure of how to say good-bye, thanked him again for all the kind words, for filling my imagination with his valiant accounts of World War II Europe, and promised that we would visit more frequently. Unable to fare us well with his usual hearty handshake or his towering, encompassing hugs, he simply squeezed my hand, said he appreciated that we came and said a simple good-bye, as if we would see each other soon for another chat.

With tio Rick, conversations were always lively and long and good-byes were always short. Why waste time on the farewell when you can spend that energy on the good part? Yesterday, tio Rick passed away quietly, with his wife at his side. He asked that there be no service, and that things be kept as simple as possible.

To honor him, I've written what I know about him. I've written of his life and briefly mention his passing because that is what he wanted. A long life, and a short good-bye.

The world is filled with those that hope the world will build monuments in honor of their lives.

Henrique Wauters simply lived a monumental life, and asked for nothing else.

Invitation to the voyage

The first time I was ever published was in an anthology of young American poets. It wasn't a major publication and you would be hard pressed to find a copy today. I figured since we get enough hard line talk, we could maybe wash away the bitter after taste of reality with a little art.

Here is one of the first poems I ever read, and one that got me starting writing. Yes, it was to try to get a girl.

Invitation To The Voyage
- Charles Baudelaire

My child, my sister, dream
How sweet all things would seem
Were we in that kind land to live together,
And there love slow and long,
There love and die among
Those scenes that image you, that sumptuous weather

Drowned suns that glimmer there
Through cloud disheveled air
Move me with such mystery as appears
Within those other skies
Of your treacherous eyes
When I behold them shining through their tears

There, there is nothing but grace and measure,
Richness, quietness, and pleasure

Furniture that wears
The luster of the years
Softly would glow within our glowing chamber,
Flowers of rarest bloom
Proffering their perfume
Mixed with vague fragrances of amber;
Gold ceilings would there be,
Mirrors deep as the sea,
The walls all in an Eastern splendor hung--
Nothing but should address
The soul's loneliness,
Speaking her sweet and secret native tongue

There, there is nothing but grace and measure,
Richness, quietness, and pleasure

See, sheltered from the swells
There in the still canals
Those drowsy ships that dream of sailing forth;
It is to satisfy
Your least desire, they ply
Hither through all the waters of the earth

The sun at close of day
Clothes the fields of hay,
Then the canals, at last the town entire
In hyacinth and gold:
Slowly the land is rolled
Sleepward under a sea of gentle fire

There, there is nothing but grace and measure,
Richness, quietness, and pleasure

A few free resources to help you make a difference

I'm a feeling a little agitated by the pitch and the furor of criticism aimed solely at the White House. I understand that Obama is a huge political figure and as one CNN pundit put it, "He blocks out the sun." However, let's think about who makes decisions that most directly affect our daily lives. If we really want to take control of our fates and ease the unsettling sensation that we're on a runaway train, we need to learn who our local politicians are, and what they're up to.

Breathe easy, I'm not going to get up on the soap box today, I'm only going to rest on it while I list a few resources you can use to become informed about your direct representation.

Harris County

If you are a registered voter in Harris County, you can visit the Harris County Tax Office website and simply fill out a voter search using your name and or address. Once you are able to view the results, you'll see a list of local and national representatives. The first step in moving our communities in a positive direction is to know who the decision makers are. Here's what my search results look like:

YOUR ELECTED DISTRICT REPRESENTATIVES IN PRECINCT 0173
U.S. Senator:	John Cornyn
U.S. Senator:	Kay Bailey Hutchison
U.S. Representative:	Michael McCaul
State Senator:	Dan Patrick
State Representative:	Allen Fletcher
Harris County Judge:	Ed Emmett
Harris County Tax Assessor-Collector:	Leo Vasquez
Harris County Commissioner:	Jerry Eversole
Harris County Constable:	Ron Hickman
Justice of the Peace Pos. 1:	Judge J. Kent Adams
Justice of the Peace Pos. 2:	Judge Tom Lawrence
State Board of Education:	Terri Leo

Fort Bend and Other Counties

If you live in Fort Bend county, you can perform the same search by visiting your Voter Registrar website.

If you live somewhere other than these counties, click here to find information about your county's voting system and public officials.

State Political Resources

Texas Legislature

Texas Senate

Supreme Court of Texas

Use these websites to see what is on the floor of Texas Congress. Knowing what bills are being debated empowers you to see where state and national political priorities are. Don't just rely on the national media networks to keep you informed. Being an independent thinker means going right to the source.

I know that some of the legislative material can be dense, but if you have questions call the office of your state representative and ask someone to explain it to you. That is what they are there for and YOU are the one keeping them employed. Take advantage of this.

National Politics

US Senate

House of Representatives

White House

Take a look to see what national issues are on the floor for debate here. Make it a goal to do this twice a month. Compare what you read here to what you see on your favorite news network and ask yourself if the media is trying to inform you, or if they're simply salesmen trying to keep your attention long enough to get to commercial break.

Houston City Hall

I don't know about you, but I'm embarrassed to say that I have no idea what goes on at City Hall. I don't know who my representatives are or what the hell they're up to. A lot of the decisions that take place downtown affect how and where businesses are able to operate, what lands are going to be taken for government use and other ordinances that can affect your commute, your taxes or even your child's access to education.

From the city's e-government portal, click on the Government tab and you'll find links to Houston City Hall minutes, links to several city services, and links to surrounding municipalities and other county resources.

A quiet call to arms

We need to spend less time on the couch, watching the news through the "soda straw" lens that the networks force us to use- and more time in each other's living rooms informing each other and discussing how we feel about how local, state and national government are shaping our country.

We are Americans. If we choose not to be involved, or to not use our first amendment rights, or to let the media become an arm of its advertisers and not our lens into government; we will no longer be Americans. We will become nameless consumers of whatever the hell TV is trying to sell us.

Take some time to check out the links, you'll feel better and be better for it.

Rodney Parker and Fifty Peso Reward

This Saturday my girlfriend and I went to see Randy Rogers at the Houston House of Blues. Looking forward to the concert all week, we didn't even think to see if there was an opening act. Have you ever heard of Rodney Parker and Fifty Peso Reward? We hadn't. But we're glad we have now.

They're a five man Texas country group from Denton that describe their sound as "alternative country" and "Americana".

Lead singer Rodney Parker looks like he picked up a guitar as soon as he quit the high school wresting team, but carries a great tune with his clenched jaw delivery (a la Lyle Lovett) and cowboy vocals. It doesn't take a trained ear to pick out the punk, alternative, and bluegrass elements in their "Americana" songs. The band takes you from bluegrass banjo riffs to head bobbing punk power chords so seamlessly that you don't mind spilling your seven dollar beer as you rock out.

Unassuming lead guitarist Zach Galindo drapes himself over his guitar and injects the band's sound with a healthy amount of blues and soul. Stage right, accompanist Danny Skinner might appear as if he missed a bus to Seattle, but he anchors a few songs with the down home twang of the banjo or the pub crawlin' accordion charm of their Irish sounding ditty I'm Never Gonna Get Married. Think along the lines of Charlie Robison's tune John OReilly.

Behind Parker and Galindo were drummer Gabriel Pearson and bass guitarist Brooks Kendall. Pearson kept the train rolling along throughout the steadily tempoed Texas Country pieces and brought a little punch during the grungy rock outs. I don't think I saw bassist Brooks Kendall break a sweat the entire night as he stood walking his bass, enjoying the crowd and his ice cold Lone Star.

These guys put on a fun show and I'll be back to see them again the next time they come through. Their first album The Lonesome Dirge is available in stores now.

Visit their Myspace page to listen to their songs including their new single Tell Me What It Is or their website, rodneyparker.com for more info on upcoming dates and band info.

A Knife Beneath Your Pillow

Bring Me a Gun

Shake

Your quarter life crisis solution

I've been writing four to eight hours a day lately and all the while I haven't been able to get this song out of my head,

"Stop, hey, what's that sound, everybody look what's going down..."
- Buffalo Springfield

It's a pretty familiar song that you may have heard on movie trailers, Coke commercials, and Vietnam era documentaries. The song has a slow, earthy sound like a soft breeze teasing wind chimes. It gives the listener a feeling as if "Change" were a palpable sensation.

As if the political and economic climate weren't enough reason to disturb our equilibrium, recent conversations with some fellow twenty-somethings have helped me understand that not only this moment in time, but this moment in life makes it hard for folks to feel secure in their paths.

It was during this time in life when Kafka wrote "Metamorphosis", and when Freud furthered psychodynamics. In short, it is during this time in life when we all try to make sense of the world around us, or make sense of ourselves.

Can you think of a better time? Many of us have completed our education and have had a taste of the fruits of our labor. We now begin to judge whether the path we've chosen was the right one and it seems to be a natural instinct to want to prioritize. Maybe because we have a sense of our own mortality and want to make sure that we live worthwhile lives. Maybe it's our genetics and socialization preparing us to stabilize ourselves enough to have kids and usher in the next round of wandering minds. Regardless of whether it is a "push" or "pull" impetus, it kinda sucks.

I've taken to calling this time a second adolescence- and you know what, we should embrace it...

Even if you've found yourself having a conversation that sounded like this:

Reality Bites

Now, more than ever, takes guts. For a while I felt as if I were limited by my degree, or my GPA, or prior work experience. And that sensation was largely oppressive. But the truth of the matter is, despite any external or internal limitations, we can all choose to follow our hearts and create our own success and security.

The first time I tried to commit to writing, my first writing mentor, Mr. Moody, criticized my work as not being "concrete" enough- not having sufficient support to validate my premises. Good advice at the time, and good writing advice in general.

But, Reader, if you want numbers and statistics today, find a good baseball blog. We're talking quarter-century existential fever today, and the only cure for quarter-century existential fever is more existentialism:

Helping me overcome social akwardness series: TV

The stand-bys

The Hills

I do not watch The Hills, per se. I'm merely in the room while The Hills is being watched. The Hills is to TV addicts, what Virginia Slims are to smokers: the last acceptable fix.

Having said that, fellas: watch the show. My girlfriend's eyes light up when I know which friend is flirting with the other one's ex. Know why Spencer is an epic d-bag, and that Whitney got her own show called "The City" (because stretching a title to four syllables might alienate their viewership)

And most importantly of all, you have to take on a cynical, non-nonchalant attitude that says to all your friends, "whatever, that show is weak I would never tune in Mondays at 9pm CST on MTV."


House MD

Dr. Gregory House is definitely one of the "smaht kids". It shocked me to find out that actor Hugh Laurie is British. I knew that dry sense of humor couldn't have been solely American. Laurie plays Diagnostician Dr. Gregory House- a limping, socially stunted and thoroughly brilliant physician who constantly berates his subordinates and keeps the awkward sexual tension alive with boss Lisa Edelstein. Mondays at 7pm CST on Fox.


The next potential ER: Southland

After The OC, Mischa Barton got a DUI and Benjamin McKenzie got his own prime time show on NBC. McKenzie played a rich SoCal kid on The OC and he plays a rich kid turned cop on Southland. Sounds like tv recycling characters ad naseum, but it actually works.

The show feels like Law and Order, but with an edge like The Wire. Even though the FCC will only let you push the envelope so much, the producers of Southland try to create an authentic "cop" feel by keeping colorful language on the show, but beeping it like you would see in Cops. I'm a cop show junkie and I have to tell you, for network TV this is a *beeping* good one.

Southland airs on NBC, Thursday nights at 9pm.

Chickens, mountain warfare and Shamal

Happy Earth Day people. There are plenty of trees that need huggin'. Those John Denver CDs won't play themselves, so let's get started.

I haven't celebrated Earth Day in, oh, seventeen years or so, but today I thought I would write out the three most memorable experiences I've had with Mother Nature. Enjoy.

Singin' songs about Texas

When I was young, I lived in East Texas for a short time, close to a town called San Augustine. We lived on one hundred acres of open pastures, stocked ponds and long, corrugated metal barns that housed chickens, and then pigs. The farm was carved out of tens of thousands of ancient, pine-covered acres: the East Texas thicket. The gulf winds would cut through the trees and howl like a locomotive finding new track in the evening.

In the mornings, free range hens would lay eggs, and it was always fun to find them deposited carefully in an old wheelbarrow or on top of a tattered burlap sack. Suffice it to say, seeing all that natural beauty as a kid made me aware of the world around me.

Girly men

Once my family moved back to Houston, it was harder to maintain my reverence for nature. It wasn't until I completed a Mountain Warfare Training Package in Bridgeport, California, that I regained my sense of awe.

We formed up at the base of the mountain nicknamed "94-94", called that for its elevation. As we started our ascent, slipping on the the shifting talus field, the sun erupted through the towering evergreens.We followed a path up hills and over crags and settled at a stream where we staged our gear. Our first challenge was learning how to cross a rapid stream.

The snow-melt fed stream was thirty yards wide, six feet deep and forty degrees cold. We stripped down to our "PT" (physical training) shorts, and linking our arms around each other's shoulders to form a circle, entered the gurgling, foaming torrent.

Eight inches of moving water can move a car. Six feet of icy water can make thirty half-naked Marines squeal like piglets. We were told that if we moved through the water, rotating as a group, we would be able to fight the current and get across safely. What they failed to mention were the affects of sudden cold on the human body. We began to turn the squad.

Once the water passes your ankles, it's only a matter of time before your feet go numb. No pain, no problem- keep turning Marines. Once the water passes your knees, your muscles start to stiffen, but your central nervous system starts sending messages like a giggling teenage girl clutching a Sidekick. The water reached my area of primary concern and achieved the effect President Bush had hoped for with the Shock and Awe campaign. Paralyzing terror.

Even though we made it across, we were never under the illusion that we were all of a sudden grizzled mountain men. We weren't traversing a mountain path, the mountain would decide whether or not to let us pass.

Round three

My third most memorable "nature" moment was watching an incoming sand storm when I was in Iraq. It started as a warm and heavy mid-afternoon. The sky darkened into a reddish brown blur, like some child smeared Texas clay on the horizon. We saw rapid flashes of lightning and grew anxious. The thunder sounded too much like mortar fire. We were standing at the back hatch of the chow hall, watching the shamal roll in from Syria.

Sergeant Oba took five steps outside.

"How long until it gets here, sergeant?" I said from the doorway.

"Fifteen, twenty minutes, maybe?"

Sgt. Oba stood, staring at the rolling cloud, his five-foot-three inch Hawaiian frame clutching to existence in front of the growing plume.

Staff Sergeant Klontz, a giant Kentuckian yelled over my shoulder, "Alright knuckleheads, stop gawkin' at that cloud like you want to take her britches off and lets finish up in here."

Oba turned around, his thumbs still hooked in his pockets, took one step and fell face first into the sand. I saw him fall out of the corner of my eye and spinning, ran out to meet him.

Four feet out of the door, a piece of hail, the size of a lemon, smashed into my chest so hard that I thought I had been shot. Oba crawled to me as I reached down to grab him by the back of his shirt. As we struggled back to the building, the cloud flickered with lightening; each bright moment spraying us with more hail.

We made it through the door in a daze, laughing at how ridiculous it all was. Oba and I looked at each other- I'm sure he saw the horror in my face that I saw in his. We were dripping in thick, red rain and for a moment, we both thought it was blood.

The storm raged through the night, dumping countless gallons of falling mud on our camp. The temperature dropped to near freezing and all we could do was shield our faces and perpetually re-stake our tents as the winds harassed us. Everyone made it out fine, but it took a few days to know for sure that we weren't on Mars.

Not exactly the same, but a cool video of a sandstorm

Happy Earth Day, after all

Those stories aren't necessarily the most endearing encounters with our Earth, but they left me with a sense of awe and a respect for nature. Even if we forgo the Earth Day festivities, we can all take a moment to appreciate the space around us. Yes, I really listen to John Denver.

Helping me overcome social akwardness series: Music

I love music, but chances are I don't know as much about it as you do. So, I need your help. Where do you go to get the latest news on music and pop culture? Post your comments, shoot an email or get in touch via Facebook. Thanks guys.




Here are the sites I use:

Rolling Stone
The standby

ENVY
The hot rookie on the block. Let Melissa school you on pop culture, album reviews and more. Proceed with caution, her wit is sharp.

Houston Chronicle
The local

Houston Press
The not so underground

Examiner.com
The shameless plug.


Your Suggestions

Thanks Mark: The man with the untouchable iPod himself suggested these awesome sites:

pitchfork.com
I thought Mark was recruiting for his cult again, but I was wrong- even though the odds were on my side. Pitchfork.com keeps you at the forefront with free tracks from up-and-comers as well as news and updates on our favorites. Which reminds me, I need to download the new Gorillaz album.

aquariumdrunkard.com
Blog covers a lot of indie stuff. The site has a great layout and the art content alone makes a visit worthwhile.

avclub.com
Covers the whole gambit: tv, film, movies and books. Really great reviews and interviews with some major stars. Just underground enough to make you cool.

I Know How Smaht You Really Aahh

I know him. He made a 3.8 in college without trying. He graduated from Medical School with honors.

Wait, he played rugby, lost a quarter (pronounced 'qatah' if we're sticking with the Good Will Hunting theme today) of his brain cells on the field, another quarter of them chanting "shoot-tha-boot" and swilling beer at post-game rugby parties and STILL got into a top-tier law school.

Or maybe you never knew she had a full ride to college- you never would have guessed because she was always at the best parties, with the prettiest people and was too approachable to be a genius.

I know her too. They're the smart kids.

I've had an unhealthy obsession with intellect. Partly because I'm intrigued by the human mind and partly because I dwell on insecurities regarding how smart I really am. Apparently, I'm not unlike a lot of Americans when it comes to questioning where I rank.

Lately, I've been inundated by ads telling me that I can quickly find out my IQ if I click on this link. Then, I'm transferred to a website where I take a ten-to-twenty minute test. And if I feel good about my results, they will text them to me for the low low cost of $1.99 plus standard messaging fees, of course.

This sounds familiar.

Do you remember Hotornot.com? Has anyone ever tried Hotornot.com? Come oooonnnnnn.

Surely you sir, the "Afflicted" one, you must have logged on to check out how much the internet community thought of your awesomeness. No?





Ok. Fine. Hard to believe, but I'll take your word for it.

BTW, the cell-phone-in-the-mirror-trick: classic.








You ma'am? Oh, I didn't mean to scare you. Yes, of course I think it is a good picture.

Nothing exudes confidence like the "reflective-phone-cam-booty-shot".



At the end of the day, we look to these tests for the same instant reassurances that we seek from sites like Hotornot.com.

Spanish Daily Vocab: "Mensa" is Spanish For Moron

MENSA, who only admits people with IQs in the top 2% of test takers, charges $13 for an at-home test you can use to approximate your IQ score.

They feature a joke on the first page of their website now,

"A man walks into a bar with a lizard on his shoulder. He looks at the bartender and says, "a double whiskey to me and" pointing to the lizard, "a half pint of Guinness, for Tiny, here."

The bartender asks, "Why do you call him Tiny?"

The man replies, "because he's my newt."

(Love it)

MENSA then suggests that if you got the joke upon the first reading, you're smart enough to join.

I think the smaht kids are trying to take our money again.

My advice: none of it really matters. In addition to intellect, one must also have the ability to goal set, manage time, remain motivated, etc, etc. Determining a person's IQ can be useful, especially when evaluating children. But it is only an accurate predictor of success in a very controlled environment. For all situations outside of academia- it don't mean a whole lot.

So the next time you feel the compulsion to find your intellectual percentile, don't bother. Look in the mirror and tell yourself how smart you are- that's much more productive.


Disclaimer
... but if you find yourself telling yourself how smart you are in the mirror while taking a cell phone self-portrait: put the cell phone down and check the lead content in your public water system.

CSPAN Rep Paul Kanjorski Reviews the Bailout Situation

Texas Tea

"There's a lot of different scenarios," Perry said. "We've got a great union. There's absolutely no reason to dissolve it. But if Washington continues to thumb their nose at the American people, you know, who knows what might come out of that. But Texas is a very unique place, and we're a pretty independent lot to boot." - Governor Rick Perry

I don't really want to talk about Governor Perry's secession remarks at Austin's City Hall. I want to turn off the TV and let the dog ruin the remote control.

I was in this great zen-like state, working on some projects that showed how local folks are dealing with the political climate. But, damnit Rick, look what you made me go and do.

I'm with you Rick. Call the boys up in DC, tell them to pack the Chevy and get on down here, let's do our own thing.

Next Rick, call the good folks at the twenty-five military installations here in the Republic and tell them to scoot. Ask them nicely though, I don't want to hurt your pride, but they might out gun you.

Those federal highways were always a bother too.

Oh, and about the border crisis, call up ICE, the DEA, the FBI and the BATF and tell them to take the day off, the Texas Rangers got this one.

Listen folks, I love Texas.

Screw you, I LOVE Texas more than you. Look it up. But allowing Texans to think that we can cut and run, even in jest, is irresponsible.You don't point a gun unless you want to pull the trigger, and you, the governor of Texas, do not bring up the "S" word unless you mean it.

The proposition for secession was premised on the idea that the federal government was abusing the tax payer by using treasury funds to bail out the banks. Purist free market capitalists favor letting the banks fail because they have the faith that a "market correction" will somehow right the ship. The problem is that the American banking system is so big and so intertwined with the global banking market that allowing a collapse would devastate the global economy. In this case, inaction by the federal government would be catastrophic.

For an informative explanation of the scenario, watch this video.

The federal government and more specifically Mr. Obama should certainly be held accountable for the decisions that come out of Washington, but I think the rage you see at some grass-roots functions is misguided. I'm sorry folks, but ideology and rhetoric alone won't right the ship. That's aimed at Mr. Perry and Mr. Obama, equally.

I drove by the AIG building on Allen Parkway a few days ago and saw one protester voicing her opinion regarding the bonuses AIG wanted to give their executives. I have yet to see a protest or rally focused on holding the TARP backed banks accountable for their decisions even though banks like Citi and Bank of America have dramatically raised their interest rates on consumer revolving credit accounts.

Personally, the Republican party breaks my heart with desperate and ill-conceived ways to seek a prodigal return of their base. It isn't working. The GOP is rapidly becoming the Democrats of the past eight years- relentlessly complaining and villainizing those in power without publicizing plausible solutions. The solution isn't more sensationalism, it is showing the American public that Republican ideals of self-reliance and hard work are the true path.

However, even those most American of ideals alone, are insufficient. There is simply no way around government intervention and regulation, those days are far gone... for the moment.

Just because we haven't found all the right solutions is not a cause for panic. I know times are hard, I've had to tighten my belt too.

But Governor Perry, sir, and you my brothers and sisters should heed this advice: splintering into a million factions and allowing ourselves to be drawn and quartered by the extreme right OR left will only impede our return to greatness.

Now is the time to become informed, to invest in our personal and collective growth, to draw from all ideas and to build- starting in our local communities until we reach DC. Buy local goods, expand or sharpen your skill set. I know it is a hard time to go back to school but Americans have forgotten that the libraries are still free, and many times they offer seminars on job hunting or have free classes of all kinds.

Here's how we get out of this mess, from the bottom up:

1. Stop talking and do something

2. Do more.

3. Keep going

I appreciate the Tea Party participants for their willingness to voice their opinions, but we have to build from the bottom up, and not tear from the top down all-the-while remembering that we are first and foremost Americans in citizenship, even if we are principally Texans, heart and soul.

Happy Easter, Happy Passover

Easter: when all you sickos stuff your faces with marshmallow Peeps and us sophisticated types sneak Cadbury Eggs and judge you. Of course, I joke. Happy Easter and Happy Passover!

I loved Easter when I was a kid. We used to go to my aunt and uncle's house in Porter. The kids would go on an egg hunt and the adults would look forward to the four hour dinner event. The grandparents, aunts and uncles would all bring their own specialties: chiles rellenos, tamales, tortas, ham, stuffing and whatever else we incorporated into our Mexican-American palate that year.

I could never figure out why the adults would always get the kids Easter outfits because we were going to spend all day hunting eggs, chasing lizards and stuffing our faces with chocolate and Mexican food.

In fact, one year my mother and my older sisters bought me a little Lacoste shirt and pants set. They doted over me and cooed at how cute I was (let's face it, I'm irresistible to this day). Thirty minutes later, I ditched the shirt, found a pair of scissors and cut off the Lacoste alligator because I wanted to play with it. Maybe you guys should have held me back a grade.

These days my aunts and uncles all have grand kids of their own and we don't make it out to Porter anymore. I actually missed Mass today and instead of a home-cooked family dinner, I think we're going to the Cheesecake factory tonight. We don't celebrate Easter the same way, but it's still a great day for family to come together- any way we can.

Christmas in Springtime

Easter is a "movable" holiday. It doesn't have a fixed date on the calendar. One year, when I was six or seven, I was visiting my sister and brother-in-law in New York. That year, Easter fell on my birthday.

It was my first solo plane ride, and my first trip to New York. We climbed to the top of the Statue of Liberty. We watched fathers and sons play with remote-controlled boats in a Central Park pond. I finally got to see how tall a brontasaurus was at the Museum of Natural History and most importantly of all, we visited FAO Schwartz.

You remember the scene in Big where Tom Hanks and Robert Loggia danced to "Heart and Soul" on that roll out piano? That's the place.

Legos. Mountains of colorful, stackable geometric bliss. The store had a "Lego Land" with endless blocks that visiting children could play with. I walked into a Lego castle and pushed around a Lego truck. I threw hand fulls of blocks in the air, just to listen to their clatter. I didn't share because no one would make me and most importantly, I didn't have to pick anything up when I was done.

It was glorious.

As I was building the most awesome Lego robot New York had ever seen, a glimmer of red shot out from a display, in between passing customers. I couldn't make it out at first, but the color reminded me of something. My robot needed a respite from his conquest of Lego Land, so I got up and investigated.

It was a red, remote-controlled boat, like the ones those kids had in Central Park. My Lego robot didn't have a working water cannon that you could fire from your remote control pad. Stupid robot.

I stood in front of the display and told my sister and brother-in-law that I had found what I wanted for my birthday. They looked at it and somberly told me that it was too expensive but not to worry because I never knew what the Easter bunny might bring. Did he know I was in New York?

I left the store, hiding my disappointment and we went back to their Manhattan apartment for the night.

The next morning, my sister gently woke me up as my brother-in-law walked in the front door in his running clothes. I got up, washed my face and sat down at the table, waiting for breakfast.

"Josh, will you get the paper? It's probably at the front door. I guess Steve forgot to get it when he walked in", my sister said.

I walked to the door, stretched up to unlatch the chain and stepped outside. Instead of the Times, there was a bright green Easter basket, like the ones you find at the grocery store. And next to the basket, was a shiny red boat, with a card and a bow.

"Happy birthday, Josh", the card said. "It was hard to find you all the way up here in New York. Have a very special birthday!", signed- The Easter Bunny.

My heart jolted the sleep from my body and I smiled. I stood there for a second, thinking- that rabbit can't be this good. And if he was that good, then why hadn't he hooked me up like this before!?!

In that New York moment, I grew up, just a little. I realized how much my family loved me and that all those Christmas mornings and Easter Sundays my parents and siblings must have gone out of their way to make magic happen.

That was the last year for the fantastic trinity: the rabbit, the jolly fat man, and the tooth fairy. Well, at least for me.

Even though I don't get together with my extended family as much as I used to, and even though I'm so far removed from Easter baskets and little red boats, Easter is a very special holiday.

Now, though, I look forward to having kids, so I can create the same magic for them that my family did for me.

I wish you all a happy Easter season. Enjoy this time with loved ones, celebrate the spring and make some memories with the ones you love.

Truly Gone and Back Again

This month marked the fourth anniversary of my return from Iraq. I don't talk about it much, but as the years pass, I find myself able to process my experiences a little more each day.

The first hurdle that I faced in re-entering my life was the anger I felt. I couldn't help but ask in vain why I had gone through what I had. I needed to feel that the sacrifices I made and the greater ones I witnessed served a purpose.

My four years at home have allowed me some convalescence but I read a story in the Houston Chronicle that revived the rage I thought time had relieved me of.

The picture at the top of this post is of Marcus Luttrell, a former Navy SEAL and author of Lone Survivor: The Eyewitness Account of Operation Redwing and the Lost Heroes of SEAL Team 10.

Luttrell served in Afghanistan as part of Operation Redwing, a mission designed to capture Ahmad Shah, a member of the Taliban and leader of the insurgent "Mountain Tigers." Luttrell was the only member of his SEAL team, the lead component of Operation Redwing.

Luttrell talks about not sleeping well because of his need to remain alert throughout the night. When the sun goes down, Lutrell's hyper-vigilance takes over and he performes the same security checks that his training taught him.

Petty Officer Luttrell returned home in 2006 and received a bouncing yellow Lab that he named "Dasy"- an acronym for the names of his fallen SEALs. The dog was given with the hopes of easing the transition home and helping Luttrell to cope with the loss of his comrades.

On April 1st, the hyper-vigilance that fed Luttrell's insomnia forced him to witness another tragedy. A shot broke the stillness that Luttrell failed to trust. He moved without forcing a thought, sweeping the house and checking on his mother. Slipping outside, Marcus found Dasy, now four years old, dead from a gunshot wound. The thirty-three year old, recently released from his latest surgery, stalked through his property with a pistol.

He spotted Dasy's killers twenty-five yards away. They were four young men in a parked sedan. Luttrell circled the car unseen, raised his pistol and trained in on one of them and... never pulled the trigger.

Instead, he jumped in his four-door truck and chased the men through three counties at speeds reaching a hundred miles per hour. While at the wheel, Marcus called 911 and urged the operator to dispatch police. Eventually, the men were caught and two of them now face charges of animal cruelty. *

The sadness of Lutrell's losses, home and abroad, are staggering. What is truly remarkable about this story however is Luttrell's restraint. I cannot imagine a jury in Texas that would not have sided with Luttrell had he pulled the trigger. But he didn't. And now that the killer's have been apprehended and investigated, Luttrell has moved away.

Luttrell said in his interview with the Chronicle that the attack on Dasy pushed him to a place where he doesn’t want to be.

“I was trying to talk myself out of being who I am,” he said. “Talking to myself about not doing the one thing I am good at.” *

For many veterans, the journey back is just that, a journey with no destination. The wounds are dressed with loose sutures and home is a place infrequently occasioned because inevitably, minds wander back to the sand.

I hope that Marcus finds the strength to start the journey home again.



* from Survivor of war loses dog to random violence, Houston Chronicle April 9, 2006.

Harold and Kumar Head to Washington.... Well, Kumar Anyway

Kal Penn, who you know from such movies as Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle,Van Wilder: The Rise of Taj, House, and 24, has left acting to work for the Obama Administration.

Penn will serve as associate director in the White House Office of Public Liason. The 31 year-old former actor will be an ambassador to the Asian-American and Pacific Islander communities.

Kal Penn, who was born in New Jersey as Kalpen Suresh Modi, mentioned in Nirali Magazine that he shortened his name, “Almost as a joke to prove friends wrong, and half as an attempt to see if what I was told would work (that anglicized names appeal more to a white-dominated industry), I put ‘Kal Penn’ on my resume and photos."

If you've seen any of Penn's movies, you know that he was usually typecast as a pseudo-intellectual pothead. Penn played more conservative roles in television, appearing in House and 24. The actor's final episode of House, his most recent reocurring role, came as a shock to those who regularly watch the highly rated program. Penn's character, Kutner, committed suicide in this week's episode.

It's interesting that President Obama would choose someone who will undoubtedly be an easy target for adversaries of the current administration. Even fictional potheads make easy targets for anti-Obama pundits. C'mon Rush, give Kal a break- he was on 24 and I KNOW you love you some Jack Bauer.

This was a rock star move for a rock star president who today ended his world tour. Penn is a popular figure among college kids and twenty-somethings whose broad appeal will likely help to keep America's youth tuned in to politics.

For more on Penn, check out nydailynews.com.

Flip THIS, House!!!

My parents are Real Estate investors. I grew up spending a lot of after-school afternoons on a work-site or at Home Depot picking up construction materials.

I never thought that many other people would find residential investment as interesting as I do, but a few years ago I was shocked to find that there were several television shows dedicated to flipping. For instance, Dana and I watch Flip This House every Saturday morning.

Flip This House is a really entertaining show with a catchy intro and several charismatic investors as the main characters. It makes for great Saturday morning TV.

You have to watch it the same way you used to watched Heman or Thundercats- with a big bowl of diabetes causing cereal (I vote for Count Chocula) and understanding that you're getting a half hour or so of entertainment and not a credible reference for your life plan. Using the show as a template for your investing success, might land you in some trouble.

Just look at some of the flipping crews from the show:

First, the producers of FTH were sued by Trademark Properties - the original flip team on the show. Apparently, Richard Davis, the founder of Trademark Properties, sued A&E on the premise that A&E stole his idea for the show. Davis won a $4 million award and now has his own show on TLC.

Next, if you were wondering why Sam Leccima suddenly disappeared from the show... yep, you guessed it- legal trouble. "Smooth talkin' Sam" might be in the biggest mess, as he faced an investigation from the Georgia Attorney General.

Finally, arguably the most notable character from from FTH, Armando Montelongo, as well as his brother David, have apparently had their own financial and legal trouble. You might recognize Armando from his radio or television ads. He now has his own website as well.

I don't know what to think of Armando. My gut tells me he's an honest guy but that his aggressive approach to the business might cause him to be stretched too thin. His management style is about as subtle as his haircut. How can you wear that much gel in the Texas heat?

Remiiiiiiiind you of anyone?







Here's my advice: If you're interested in Real Estate investment, go to a place like Champions School of Real Estate. There are other schools out there that offer the same type of courses but I've had really good experience with Champions. They offer classes on investing, construction, appraisal and other topics that investors need to be familiar with before they put both feet into the fire.

It is an incredible time to invest, if you have the money. But before you get out there, do your homework and be able to tell what's real, and what's not.

Oh, if you thought this post was going to be about House, the show- I KNOW.... what was up with that?

BTW, Rescue Me comes back on tonight. If you like Dennis Leary, you'll love this show. If you don't like Leary, but you like smart ass NY firemen, (hey, your thing, whatever) watch the show anyway.

You're Screwed When

You know you're screwed when you're writing about writing. Worse yet, when you're reading about writing.

I keep reading that writers become better writers when they read and write. Get me off this pinche ride.

I don't know if I'm undertaking a noble venture or if I just bought into a Madoff security but I do see why the best authors were drunken misanthropes, or drunken hermits, or drunken borderline suicidal types. Coping.

Which reminds me, I'm meeting Mark at Baker Street at 6. You're welcome to join, all five of you.

My favorite authors were either a) inspired by God or b) cast away from their communities because they were labeled as communists or c) remarkably witty. God's been especially active in my life as of late, I'm a moderate Independent suburbanite and well, I'm witty. I'M WITTY DAMN YOU. Where does this leave me? Unpublished?

I'm suspect that listening to NPR and losing myself deep in thought just aren't going to provide the sustenance I need to produce. This is where you come in you sexy beast, you.

Give me your queries, let me know what you think about sitting in traffic or before you go to bed. If you find that you would label your thoughts NSFW, do me a favor and write me an email instead of posting here.

What news stories interest you? What frustrates you? What's the best restaurant you've been to lately or the best band you've seen? What did you avoid doing today that you know you should have done?

I'm finding that I enjoy writing human interest pieces and sports stories the most. I feel that everyone should have their story told and sports offers too many universal lessons to be ignored.

I'm obviously rambling today, but if this strikes a chord with anyone, please send me an email or post a comment to the blog.

The Moviegoer

I'm reading "The Moviegoer" by Walker Percy. I had never heard of the book, nor of Percy. I was at the U of H bookstore looking at the materials for some classes I was considering taking when I saw the book, obviously misplaced under "Chinese Studies". I don't know what drew me to it, but here we are.

I'm not nearly done reading the book, but from what I've read, it is about Binx Bolling, an almost- thirty -year -old stock broker from New Orleans. Binx finds it easiest to relate to the world by drawing analogies between what he experiences in real life, and what he sees in movies.

The protagonist is a veteran, a Catholic, and a fraternity man adrift in life. I think I've exceeded the limit of calling things serendipitous, but it seems insufficient to call my finding this book "fortunate".

Here's my favorite passage, so far:

"I no longer pretend to understand the world." She is shaking her head yet still smiling her sweet menacing smile. "The world I knew has come crashing down around my ears. The things we hold dear are reviled and spat upon." She nods towards Prytania Street. "It's an interesting age you will live in- though I can't say I'm sorry to miss it. But it should be quite a sight, the going under of the evening land. Thats us all right. It is very late."

For her too the fabric is dissolving, but for her even the dissolving makes sense. She understands the chaos to come. It seems so plain when I see it through her eyes. My duty in life is simple. I go to medical school. I live a long useful life serving my fellowman. What's wrong with this? All I have to do is remember it.

"- you have too good a mind to throw away. I don't quite know what we're doing on this significant cinder spinning away in a dark corner of the universe. That is a secret which the high gods have not confided in me. Yet one thing I believe, and I believe it with every fiber of my being; a man must live by his lights and do what little he can and do it as best he can. In this world goodness is destined to be defeated. That is the victory. To do anything less is to be less than a man."

Seneca Says Hold On

Last week, I celebrated one of the best birthday weeks I can remember. Tuesday, I met up with an old friend who is in his medical residency in Ohio. We talked about his engagement, old times and the changes we face in our late twenties. We also talked about his stalled bollywood project. That is an inspiring tale on its own but, for another time.

Wednesday, I went to the Taste of Texas with some friends and family. I did my best impression of myself at seventeen when I tried to eat a thirty-two ounce steak.

It took me the next two lunches to knock that one out.

Thursday, Dana took me to the Grove at Discovery Green. We ordered some dishes we had only seen on Top Chef. The duck confit and skate wing with preserved lemons were awesome. I can feel better now when I berate the Top Chef contestants with a bowl of Easy Mac on my lap.

Friday was the most fun. I was apprehensive to meet up with some friends at Beaver's Icehouse because I haven't really seen anyone since I left South Texas. I thought my friends would be disappointed and that I was going to take some sharp criticism. As usual, I didn't give them enough credit.

It seems my friends and I are navigating through the same mid-twenties wilderness. Many of us are finding that our careers were not enough like the way we envisioned them. Some of us aren't as willing to make some of the sacrifices we thought we could make. Like our happiness.

These times don't make it easier to see beyond money. Every morning I watch a news anchor reporting on the hottest jobs or the most stable job markets. Yesterday I wondered if I was well enough enumerated to be a software engineer (no way in hell) and this morning I was convinced that I needed to go to court reporting school. When I was eight, I wanted to be Indiana Jones. Can you wear an Indy hat in court. No, no you can't.

I don't think anyone at this age should feel bad if they haven't found what they've wanted to do with their lives. The adage is true, if you can't find what you like, then find what you don't like. The important thing here is to keep moving and to no be paralyzed if you can't see the horizon.

"The greatest loss of time is delay and expectation, which depend upon the future. We let go the present, which we have in our power, and look forward to that which depends upon chance, and so relinquish a certainty for an uncertainty."
-Seneca

Some career resources:

10 Winners in the Recession - USA Today

Best Small Businesses to Start in 2009

Violence in Sports

Not Again, and not THIS guy

Normally, I brush off the drama surrounding professional athletes because it becomes redundant.

Steroids in baseball is tiresome. I don't care whose jersey is crumpled up next to Madonna's bed. Another DUI? Another ungrateful athlete.

This story is another tick in a timeline that is growing too long.

Last night, Carl Landry was shot in the leg after an apparent car accident. This is another unfortunate incident in a string of violence in professional sports. Landry is the second Houston athlete attacked at or near his home in the last two years.

Houston's professional sports teams have always had one thing in common: they value the character of their players. Landry and Dunta Robinson, mentioned in the second link, fit the mold of upstanding Houston athletes.

These guys don't illegally tote guns around or ignore league drug policies. They aren't surrounded by constant allegations of impropriety and they're not pariahs in the locker room. The only attention these players bring to themselves is the appreciation of their coaches and the admiration of their fans. These guys didn't deserve what happened to them.

Violence and the pro athlete

I've railed against the astronomical salaries and the trite things about which pro athletes complain. The inequity of someone making millions of dollars to play a sport and the modest salaries of our teachers, police officers and other public servants grows more disparate with every draft and free agency.

We can battle the numbers another time. Right now, the violence has to stop. I think professional players associations and the NBA, NFL and MLB security consultants need to address this issue directly, openly and immediately. Violence in sports is too broad to address as a whole, but the leagues need to start somewhere.

I don't favor coddling professional athletes, I think a lot of them get too much special treatment throughout their careers as it is. But in this case, I'm tired of the violence. I don't want to explain to my kids that their favorite player was shot, or bound and robbed, or was stabbed in the head by his girlfriend at a time when kids should enjoy seeing these guys as larger than life.


We can't escape if they can't

You know, the Houston Texans sent a copy of every game of the 2004 season to my Marine unit in Iraq. Watching those games let us feel like we weren't in a war zone for a little while. Sports should be that kind of escape for fans here as well and it should not be adulterated by attacks on or by professional athletes.

This subject doesn't rank among the likes of the economic crisis, the environment or the continuing war in Iraq and Afghanistan. Maybe that's why we get these syncopated updates about pro athletes as victims of violence. Regardless about the moral weight of the issue, someone needs to be a loud, responsible voice.


Hard to spot the roots

I don't know if this violence is a result of the culture of professional sports, if these athletes made poor choices which resulted in dire effects, or if the victims succumbed to societal forces beyond their contemplation. It's time for some examination of self, league policy and the relationship of pro sports to their fans.

I don't have the answers. This isn't an academic evaluation of the individual and society. I'm just a voice saying we need look at whats going on here.

Whether it's Carl or Plaxico, a series of poor choices or bad guys seeing the stars as easy victims, these things shouldn't happen.

Get better Carl.

Re Re Re-Introduction

I turn 27 this month. This is less intimidating than 25 for some reason. I think it is because I've had enough time to stare down 30, and 30 and I have come to accept each other, begrudgingly.

I left law school last month because I didn't like the way that I saw myself after law school. Me during law school wasn't a model of contentment, either.

There is a little regret, mostly because I left something unfinished. I'm studying for the GRE and looking at some Marketing/ Communication oriented degrees and I feel like I'm looking in the right area.

It's just like looking in the pantry, you know you're looking on the right shelf but you cant find what you want. I bet it's right in front of me like so much granola.

Dana!!!! Where's the....... rest of my life? You see it anywhere?

You know, my fantasy has always been to make movies. I don't know if I have the stones to go that far out on a limb. Plus, the rumor on the street is that a steady pay check is a nice thing to keep close. What kind of movies would I make, I wonder? Comedy? Tragedy? Tromedy? Cragedy? I'd wreck in France, I know it.

This is such a weird time in my life. I have so many things that I've wanted for so long and I find myself taking a huge step back. I'm moved by what I hope is foresight. I think I have the good sense to make corrections now so I don't have to make larger corrections in the future.

This feels familiar, though. I tend to go to blogging or journaling when the treads get bare. It feels natural but it comes too infrequently. Maybe it's for the best. If I wrote any more than I do I'd be a committed writer and who the hell wants that? Bleh.

What I do know is that I'm thankful for a generous and patient family. I'm glad I have a forgiving, tough and beautiful girlfriend. I have friends who inspire me and youth on my side.

Well, I have family a great girl and friends anyway.

Now, gotta run- I have to do some laundry and study for the GRE.

Don't forget your umbrella.