Gladiator and Braveheart, Movies with Meaning

Gladiator and Braveheart are two of the best movies of all time.  If you haven't seen them, stop everything, subscribe to Netflix and watch them now.  Spoilers ahead.

My Halloween costume the last three years.

Striking similarities exist between the Gladiator and Braveheart.  The hero's journey begins with a great injustice that provides both a noble purpose and an intensely hateable villain.  Next follows a series of intensely graphic and gratifying successes on the battlefield.  And just when justice seems at hand.... circumstances force our hero to sacrifice themselves for their cause.

Face paint is a fundamental human right! 

So much of these films appeal at the surface level.  Historical parallels (Rome and medieval Scotland).  Cool settings.  Awesome battle scenes.  Manly men.  Beautiful women.  Evil villains.

On a deeper level, these films tug at a string very deep inside my heart.  For 2-3 hours minutes I live vicariously through these men and find a purpose in life much bigger than myself.  I find a noble cause so great, it is worth dying for.  Their lives have a very tangible meaning.

I want that.  I think we all do.  Somewhere in the scary edges of my conscience lurks a fear of Oblivion.  Of not mattering.   Of living a life without consequence or meaning.  So I do things to fight back.  I blog.  I strive to make a difference in the lives of my students.  I work to be the best teacher I can possibly be.  I try to savor the little enjoyable moments that happen every day that I increasingly believe are the fundamental matter of a happy life.

But still, part of me yearns to be a part of something grand and good and noble.  Give me a ring to throw in Mount Doom to save Middle Earth.  Or magical powers like Neo to fight the Matrix.  Give me Russel Crowe's skill with a sword to oppose an evilly insecure emperor.  Or Mel Gibson's ability to yell gibberish and rouse Scots to battle.

I don't have that.  I'm just a fairly average guy.  A middle school teacher who drives an old Ford Escape and lives in a nice little neighborhood.  My life is very average.  I do realize that this is very much a first world commentary, I don't want for food shelter, or anything.  And I have a standard of living higher than 99.9% of all humans who ever lived.  But is the point of living just to live?

I don't know the answer.  I don't know why I have that small little voice in me crying out for meaning and purpose.  But I think we all do.  Earlier this week I sat down with a student who has been acting up lately, and I asked him to write down a list of all his fears and insecurities.  This is not an easy, or common task for a middle school boy, but this child did.  First on his list?

"I don't want to be forgotten."

Persistence Pays

Try and try again.

The little things in life are what make life grand.  Triumphs must be celebrated, no matter how small.  Tonight I celebrate two.

First, my girlfriend has suddenly plunged headfirst into biking.  She always wants to go.  I made the mistake earlier of trying to encourage her to bike to this beautiful abbey nearby that sits atop a hill.  It's not easy for me to do, with my fancy bike and clip in shoes.  She's riding my cheap-o mountain bike I got when I was 15.  She made it that time, but she wasn't happy with me.

Tonight though, she said "Lets go to the Abbey."  So up and up we went.  It's a big hill.  She struggled, I struggled.  But up and up we went, to be rewarded with views of Mt. Hood, Mt. Adams, Mt. St Helens and nearly 200 miles distant, Mt. Rainier.  The pain was worth it.

The second triumph occurred later tonight in a bar.  After over two years of futility, numerous second place finishes, and endless heartache and heartburn, I've finally won bar trivia.  It wasn't easy.  We had to endure a MC who talked way too much, and an odd dessert of potato chips, bananas and whip cream.  At the end of the final round, we finished tied, so it moved to a Family Feud style face off, best of 5.  Our team won 3-1.

None of these "triumphs" are life shattering, but I'll remember them.  And I think that's at the core of a good life, recognizing and savoring the little moments along the way.  So many great things happen to us that we sometimes don't even take the time to notice.  When life is good, drink it up.  

10 Year Plan: The Most Important People in my Life are the Most Important Thing in My Life

I wrote out 6 core beliefs to plan the next 10 years of my life around.  Here they are:

1. Anything worth doing will be hard.
2. Do one thing at a time and one thing only.
3. The most important people in my life are the most important thing in life.
4. Never let fear dictate anything.
5. Money is a tool.
6. Billionaire moments are everywhere.

Third on my list: the most important people in my life are the most important thing in my life.

I used to believe that people are the most important thing in life.  That statement probably reflects my optimistic, non-confrontational nature.  I like to get along with everyone.  I want everyone to be my friend.

Now I qualify that statement to: The most important people in my life are the most important thing in life.  There's quite a big difference between those two statements.  Before, I included the whole of mankind.  Now, just my immediate circle of family and friends.

That's not to say that all people aren't important.  I strongly believe they are.  And let me be clear, I believe I should treat even people I don't like with respect and kindness.  But by placing family and friends in the position of most important, I prioritize my life in the right way.  If we were to all divide the world into three simple categories based on our relationships it might look like this:

• Family and friends.
• Acquaintances, people you pass on the street, random folks on the bus, people we haven't met yet.
• People we don't get along with.

Now, how should we rank those groups in order of importance?  A pretty simple question for most of us.  Family and friends should be first, acquaintances second, and people we don't like third.

Maybe my past self would call this social hierarchy sad and cynical, but I know now I can't make everyone like me all the time.  Having beliefs, having principles, having to make decisions invariably will upset someone.  And frankly, there are some people out there who just might not like me.  And try as I might, there are some people who I just don't like either!

At the same time, I have been blessed to have amazing people in my life.  Some I inherited by birth, like my mother and father.  Others I've found traveling through life, and for whatever reason they decide to call me friend.  However they came into my life, I am convinced that the friendship, loyalty, and experiences I share with these people make them worth more than anything I own or could possibly own.

Yet, my own behavior seems to show I rank them otherwise.  Lets take this scenario: a friend invites you out to an event you both want to go to, but you know someone you don't want see (ex girlfriend, sworn enemy, Miley Cyrus, i.e) will be there.  We've all been in this position.

Logically, I should let the people I don't like influence my life the least, so I should go to the event with my friend.  Yet, many times I elect not to spend time with my friend for fear of running into the person I don't like.  I place the person who should be at the bottom of my priority list on the top.  It makes no sense!

Indeed, sometimes the ones we love the most we treat the worst.  I can spend all day forcing myself to smile and be friendly to strangers, then snap at my girlfriend when I come home.  We fear the opinions of strangers more than those we love.  Maybe this becuase people who really care for us are the ones who have seen our ugly sides and our faults and love us anyway.  Maybe we think, "they'll still love for me anyway," while we put on a happy face in public because they probably won't.

Whatever the rationale, it shouldn't be that way.  Again, we shouldn't be rude, mean, etc to anyone (even those we don't like!), but we should definitely give our loved ones our best.  Put them first.  They are the ones who will be for you through the thick and thin.  The rest of the world?  If they are there at all, they sure won't be there for you when things get tough.

Family and true friends are treasure.  For the next 10 years of my life, it's my goal to treat them that way.

10 Year Plan: Do One Thing At A Time

Sunday, I wrote out the 6 core beliefs that I'm trying to focus the next 10 years of my life around.  Here they are:

1. Anything worth doing will be hard.
2. Do one thing at a time and one thing only.
3. Where you spend your time is who you are.
4. The most important people in my life are the most important thing in my life.
5. Never let fear dictate anything.
6. Money is a tool.
7. Billionaire moments are everywhere.

Second on my list: Do one thing at a time.

Humans are not capable of multi-tasking.  I know this because I've read it before.  Yet still I persist in trying to do more than one thing at a time, as if I've taken some evolutionary leap and the rules don't apply to me.

My experience fits what I've read.  When I try to do more than one thing at a time, I end up doing nothing.  The biggest culprit for me is my phone.  Literally, as I type these words, I want to grab it and read my Twitter feed.  Basically anything that glows attracts me like a moth.  Phone, TV, computer, all irresistible.  Perhaps I'm a product of my generation, but I feel  can only devote about 5 minutes to something before I seek distraction elsewhere.

To be more productive and achieve my lofty goals (which I'll post at the end of this series), I am trying to simply Do One Thing at a Time.  It sounds simple, and it is.  The benefits of focusing entirely on the task at hand are enormous.  First of all, the task gets done . Second, living in the moment is the only logical way to live.  We only get each moment, each minute, each day once.  Why live it distracted?

When I look at all the things I wish I had more time for, writing and working out mainly, I sometimes wonder how much I could get done if I devoted all my phone time to one of those tasks instead.  If I am normal for the millennial generation, it's arguable that I spend more time on my phone than doing any other particular thing throughout my day.  That's sad.  No one wants to look back at a life lived through a 2 inch by 5 inch screen.

It's hard to make new habits, and this has been my hardest habit to break.  I'm trying to leave my phone in my pocket more, and better yet at home.  I try to not mindlessly surf the web when I have work to do, or when I'm writing.  I try to live entirely in the moment.  It's not going to be easy, but more than anything else I attempt to do in the next 10 years of my life, doing one thing at a time will do the most to help me achieve my goals. 

10 Year Plan: Anything Worth Doing Will Be Hard

Yesterday I wrote out the 6 core beliefs that I'm trying to focus the next 10 years of my life around.  Here they are:

1. Anything worth doing will be hard.
2. Do one thing at a time and one thing only.
3. The most important people in my life are the most important thing in my life.
4. Never let fear dictate anything.
5. Money is a tool.
6. Billionaire moments are everywhere.

The first on my list: Anything worth doing is hard.

You do only live once, and I want that life to count  I've always aspired to live an exceptional life and do exceptional things.  That's why I started this blog way-back-when in the first place.

The problem with being exceptional is this: it's hard.  Even my mundane, New Years Eve-like, goals take work.  Getting in shape, blogging regularly, and saving more money aren't particularly exceptional, and those aren't easy!

Then I think about some of the bigger ambitions I've aspired to over the years: Starting a non-profit or social enterprise that changes the world.  Being a life changing teacher.  Writing a book.  Those are extremely difficult to do. 

It makes sense, if it were easy to do exceptional things, everyone would do them.  We'd all be Mark Zuckerburgs running around starting social media empires.  By it's definition, an exceptional life is different than normal.  Everyone wants to be great, famous, recognized, etc.  But the majority of us, myself foremost, don't want to put in the amount of work necessary to achieve exceptionality.  We take the path of least resistance.  Why work hard to be a great writer, artist, athlete, what-have-you when something as easy as a sex tape can get you your 15 minutes of fame.  Or in my case, why work hard when you can watch Family Guy on Netflix when you get tired.

Exceptional people are weird,in a good way.   They have the discipline to do what is necessary to achieve their goals.  Without a doubt, I have not been exceptional in anyway at anything in the first 30 years of my life.  I have an assorted set of skills ranging from the decent (Being able to teach 7th graders about Ancient Rome), to the awful (golf).  There is nothing that I have devoted myself to being exceptional at, with the possible exception of Halo back in college.  

In the next 10 years of my life, I plan to change that.

10 Year Life Plan: The Long Term vs Short Term View of Life

The age of 30 has given me a little longer view of life.  Until recently, the "future" seemed distant and hazy.  The age 30 itself seemed old and scary.  I felt an urgency to do things now, and lived my life accordingly.

In some ways that's good, as I've certainly experienced a wide variety of things.  Between the ages of 19 and 23 I started a band, started a business, and lived overseas.  None lasted longer than a year, though

As a member of the instant gratification generation has brought some predictably bad results too.  Take financially, where rather than taking the slow and steady route, I've bounced around some get rich quick ideas ranging from the idiotic (I'll count cards in blackjack just like the MIT guys), to the arrogant (I can play the stock market like Bradley Cooper in Limitless!).  All have been expensive.

Recently a 70 year old relative came to visit.  You never have guessed he was 70.  He is mobile, active, and strong.  He just retired, and talks about all of his life's ambitions.  I had him pegged in the early 60's, until I found out otherwise.  He got me thinking, if all goes well, I have at least 40 good years left!  Then I asked myself this question: 

Knowing what I know now, and starting from where I am now, what do I want to do in 40 years?

*Now of course "if all goes well" is a pretty major caveat. I just watched Titanic, so I won't tempt fate and presume anything past today.  

"Unsinkable, eh? Mwahaha"

As I tried to answer that question, I was surprised that I couldn't.  At all.  The only answers I had were incredibly generic:  "Have kids" and "Be a billionaire!" 

Looking at my life more closely though, that doesn't surprise me.  I don't have direction or a plan, and instead have momentum from living day to day.  At age 23 I became a teacher, and have kept with it because I love it.  At age 26 I moved into a house, because I could.  At age 29, I found my wonderful girlfriend because I finally got the courage to talk to her after chickening out for over a year (true story).

Frankly, I think it is and was OK for me to not know everything I want out of life.  I don't want to live off some script.  Many of the best friends and experiences I have in life have come from unplanned and unexpected circumstances.  And especially when I was younger it was important to find my place in the world, so to speak. 

Now that I'm 30, I've figured out a lot more about what I believe in and who I want to be.  I've laid out at 10 year plan for myself, organized on the following six beliefs about life:

1. Anything worth doing will be hard.
2. Do one thing at a time and one thing only.
3. The most important people in my life are the most important thing in life.
4. Never let fear dictate anything.
5. Money is a tool.
6. Billionaire moments are everywhere.

Over the next week I'll be explaining each, then I'll share my 10 year plan at the end.  

Fight Fate

Life is like a box of chocolates.  I will concede that.  It's also like a roller coaster.

Sometimes all the dominoes fall your way.  Your mortgage company mails you a substantial check.  Work is going great and you get recognition from your boss.  You find an amazing group of friends, and spend your nights and weekends happy and laughing.  Sometimes it feels like you just can't miss, and can do no wrong.

That was my week last week.  It got me thinking about my life.

I've had good spells that seemed to last months.  It can make you believe that the blue skies and sunshine will last forever. But like all good things, they came to an end.

Sometimes it all goes wrong.  Nothing goes right at work.  Great relationships blow up.  Your friends move away and you get lonely.  Expensive things break.  You stub your toe. Worse, more serious things happen.  When you're in a funk, it's hard to see an end to that dark tunnel as well.

The reality?  It all passes.  The good times and the bad times come and go, and often you'll have little say in the matter.  If life is dealing you a great hand, count your blessings and enjoy it.  Don't get arrogant or complacent.  It won't last forever.  If life has been rough, know that it will eventually pass.  Don't get depressed or despondent.  You'll start catching some breaks.

Through out it all, the good and the bad, the secret is to control what you can control.  Fight fate.  Determine who you want to be, and what you want out of life, and determine the best way to get there.  You'll still go through ups and downs, but you'll be heading in an upward direction.

Would You Rather: Titanic Edition

I just returned from the Titanic Dinner, an epic recreation of the first class meal served on the night the RMS Titanic struck an iceberg and went down.  That 13 course dinner in-and-of-itself deserves a blog post, but I don't believe my palette is so well defined as to do it justice.  If I may sum up: I ate a lot, and had a great time.

Part of the fun is museum that accompanies the dinner.  The story of the Titanic resonates, even without Jack and Rose.  That ship epitomized an age of wealth and optimism.  It embodied the idea that man could control and shape their own destiny, that the old rules didn't apply.  Hence: the unsinkable ship.

Ultimately though, its a story of man's limitations and mortality, and a warning against hubris. (Spoilers ahead)   Of course, the Titanic did sink.  And while a million fascinating stories survive from that fateful night, the tale of Bruce Ismay fascinates me.

A man of impeccable mustache

Bruce was the managing director of the White Star Line.  He inherited his daddy's company, and by all accounts did quite well.  The Titanic was his dream child, a ship of unparallelled size and luxury that would dwarf the Lusitania and Mauretania of the rival Cunard Line to shame.  Indeed, many witnesses recount him urging the Titanic's captain to increase his speed, in hopes of notching a record trans-Atlantic crossing time.

When the Titanic hit that iceberg, Bruce encountered a difficult dilemma.  You're a rich gentleman in the prime of your life.  There aren't enough lifeboats for everybody.  What do you do?

Use your status and power to secure yourself a seat, knowing you'll forever be called a coward?

Or perish, sacrificing your life that women and children might live, and burnish your legacy for all eternity?

Some, like billionare Benjamin Guggenheim handled death with surprising grace.  Guggenheim put on his formal dinner attire to meet death like a gentleman, saying "No woman shall be left aboard this ship because Ben Guggenheim was a coward."

Same goes for Isidor Straus, of Macy's Department store fame.  When offered a seat on a lifeboat next to his wife, he firmly refused.  His wife then refused her seat saying "as we lived, so we will die, together."

John Jacob Astor, the richest man on board, asked for a seat and was refused.

And Bruce?  Bruce of the too-few-lifeboats and the full-speed-ahead-damn-the-icebergs?  Bruce got in.a lifeboat, the highest ranking White Star official to survive.  Some say he helped load women for an hour before taking a seat.  Some say he dressed like a woman to secure himself a seat.  The truth is likely in between.  What is for certain is this: Bruce Ismay became a villain in the American and British press.

They labelled him a coward.  They called him a brute.  His suffered cartoons and poetry, editorials and articles, all mocking his manhood.  And ridiculed and ashamed, he lived 25 years longer than all the other men I mentioned, dying finally in 1937.

So if I could ask any of those dead men anything, I'd ask, would you want to trade places with one another?  Would Ben Guggenheim trade places with Bruce Ismay?  Would Bruce trade places with Ben?

If we all must die, should one not cling to desperately to life and choose to die well?  If life is short and finite, does how people remember us after we're gone matter?  Would you pay for 25 years more of life with shame and ridicule worldwide?

Happy Old People, Drunk-y and Dance-y

I went to the St. Josefs Winery grape stomp celebration today.  Located in Canby, Oregon about 30 minutes southeast of Portland, St Josefs is twice as fun, twice as cheap, and half as pretentious as the more popular Newberg-Dundee wine tasting area.  
 
The very aged and very friendly owner immigrated here from Hungary, and the whole place looks like an old central European villa. It surprised me to see the grape stomp was another iteration of the ever-popular Oktoberfest celebration.  Same songs.  Same sausages.  Same chicken dance.  German flags at shirts dotted the crowd, a little ironic since the owner was probably alive when Germany invaded Hungary during World War II, before losing it to the Soviet Union.  Hungary then essentially lived out an Orwellian Big Brother nightmare for 45 years under communist rule before winning independence in 1989.

Alcohol makes us all brothers, I suppose.  I've been to many an Oktoberfest, but never have I seen so many happy old people.  The crowd was aged.  Young and middle aged pockets cropped up here and there, but at nearly every table sat lots and lots of old people, in their old people sweaters and old people pants that are always tugged up too high.  And they were rocking.  Singing.  Dancing.  Swigging beer, swigging wine and chowing on bratwurst.

One old timer and his wife hopped and bopped in the conga line, the returned to their seats next to us.  The old man looked at me and my girlfriend, and in a thick, central European accent said "You are weaklings!  You should dance!  I am 82!"

I don't know if they all hailed from Hungary or from the same nursing home, but the event felt like one big family reunion.  Everyone beemed with joy.  The crowd cheered every song.  And everyone just danced.  I find it so heartening to see old people living it up.  30 is almost here for this blogger, and while middle age looms, I learned today I can have at least 52 more good fun years ahead of me.

For a $10 admission (that included a glass and three tastes), I got more fun, more wine, and more life lessons than I could ever have hoped.

The Top Ten Things I Would Do If I Only Had One Week To Live

Yesterday I found myself in one of those weird little life quandaries of life that occur when two equal options present themselves.

I had to decide between going home, or staying another day with my cousin.  At home: various menial chores, my own bed, and a girlfriend who really wanted me to come back.  At my cousin's:  A sunny day at the beach, a trip up the river, and lots of golf.  The pros and cons of each struck a balance on the scale in my head.  I sat at a cafe, eating calm chowder, pondering.

While doing so my thought train hopped to and fro like a flea escaping my dog, landing on "What would I do if I only had one week to live?"  I still didn't know.  So I Googled it.

Google is surprisingly silent on the issue.  No top ten lists appeared.  And when I got to thinking about it, I didn't really know.  I figure I should know a question like that, so here I go:

1.)  Eat as many meals as possible at Portland's fine dining establishments.  Le Pigeon, Ox, are just a few of Portland's amazing food scene.   I would also eat lots of Pizza Hut's stuffed crust pizza.  And Burgerville.  And Wendy's.

2.)  My last meal though would be my mother's prime rib.  A little bit of Heaven on earth before I go to Heaven.

3.)  Call every friend and family member that has made an impact on my life and tell them what they mean to me.

4.)  Pray, pray, pray a lot.  My "religiousity" has mellowed a lot as I've gotten older, I don't know where I stand on a lot of things.  I do know with death staring me in the face, I certainly would try to make my peace with God.

5.)  Spend my last few days with family, playing Pinochle and Settlers of Catan, and eating as much Nells N and Out as possible.

6.)  If the Ducks were playing at home in Eugene, go to the game.  The same goes if Taylor Swift were playing a show nearby.

7.)  Skydive.  I've always wanted to, but I'm afraid.

8.)  Go on a guided fishing tour with my dad to try to catch a really big fish.  I'm good at catching little guys, but I've never caught a huge fish.  Maybe deep sea fishing.

9.)  Go on a horseback ride with my mom up in the mountains near home.

10.)  Take my dog Winston on a hike every day.  And buy him a lifetime supply of those huge dinosaur bones.

Kind of weird to think about.  But each day here is precious and a gift.  I'm not sure why, but I've been finding myself more and more thankful for the little things life brings.  My health, my family, my friends.  Walking my dog to the field in the morning with a (homemade) latte in my hand.  A nice breeze.  My homegrown tomatoes.   A clear sky at night.

More than anything, if I only had one week left, I would try to enjoy every one of those little things.

Getting to Know the Neighbors

People are the best thing on Earth.  The little interactions, kindnesses and shared moments make life good.  The problem is, I'm not a people person.  I like teaching my students.  I've loved going overseas for various volunteer trips.  But without a defined role, I'd rather stay quiet and in the shadows.

Nowhere is that more true than in my own neighborhood.  Growing up in the country, I had exactly three neighbors.  Now, I estimate there are 60+ homes in my immediate vicinity.  I know very few of those people.  And I don't know how to meet them.

Unexpectedly, my dog has connected me to the neighborhood in ways I never could.  He's a cute puppy.  People want to pet him, to say hello.  I've had a woman stop in her tracks while jogging to come tell me Winston looked just like the yellow lab she had that just passed away.

In the neighborhood Winston has joined a pack of other young, rapscallion puppies.  Four other people on my street have young dogs (three of those are labs or have lab in them), and we often meet in the field nearby.

Around the corner from my house sits a duplex.  On the porch of that duplex often sits an old man and his wife.  I had never spoken to them before until I started walking Winston by.  They would never fail to tell me how much they like my dog, and then share about their own.  The last time I walked by, the man asked me if I'd like some plums from his tree on the way back.  Of course I would!

On my way back he was waiting for me with a big bag of plums.  We formally introduced ourselves.  He told me how much he liked my dog.  And he told me his dog was his best friend with undeniable solemnity and sincerity.

He said he and his wife are realtors, and he put his card in the bag.  Then he added, "Well, retired" with a smile.  I picked out his card.  On the back, in shaky old man script, he had written "retired realtors".

It wasn't much, but it matters.  His small kindness to me made my day better and me feel like I mattered.  I could easily he see he felt good about doing it.  We both left with smiles on our faces.  I think those small interactions are the cornerstone of a happy and contented life.

 We all have opportunities like Jake had everyday to bless someone, no matter how small the blessing.  We just have to be brave enough, or slow down enough, to look for them.

People Are Good (Usually)

I've always felt that people are fundamentally good.  Any given person is more likely to help you than hurt you.  I love meeting new people, and chance encounters with strangers have turned into some of the most wonderful opportunities for me.  A good friend of mine disagrees.  She sees people more through the lens of the nightly news.

A recent weekend in Bend, Oregon illustrates both sides of the coin.  My girlfriend and I are walking to a local brewery on the kind of clear warm night you associate with summer.  A few blocks away a nice looking older gentlemen approaches, asking us which establishment we were headed too.  We answer Ten Barrel Brewing, and get a 30 second diatribe about why we should not go there in response.  And so our night with Paul began.

Paul was tall, wiry with a lot of nervous energy.  Jittery.  At first I thought he was drunk.  He informed us he had just been asked to leave Ten Barrel, for dumping a hamburger cooked not to his liking in the garbage.  He clutched a number of menus with handwritten scribbles all over them.  He also had an old digital camera and a notebook.

Paul quickly pulled a U-turn and walked with us to the bar.  I didn't mind the company, he seemed odd, but nice.  Paul spoke in rapid fire clips.  Pointing out his car.  Talking about beer.  Defending his ejection.  Paul rather forcefully suggested we go to Brother John's across the street.  Both places I heard were good, so we went.

We sat down, got our menus.  Moments later, in walks Paul, ejected again from across the street.  He joined our table and recommend some beers, and then announced he was paying.   The night had gotten odder, but there was free beer in the deal so I was game.  He asked me to look at his papers and handed me a stack of loose white notepaper.  It was filled with reviews of local bars.  He wanted to make a newsletter he said.  The conversation jumped around, loudly.  Others in the bar started to turn their heads.  The wait staff looked at me quizzically as they passed by, one eyebrow raised ready to offer support if needed.

Then his questions crossed into the uncomfortable.  Where are you staying?  I made up a place.  Where are you from?  I invented a new home town for us.  He then teared up talking about his long dead father.  Next he called the waiter over asked him to take his beer away, and asked if they had anything actually drinkable.  At this point I felt embarrassed to be sitting with him.  The waiter returned not with more beer, but to kick him out.

Was Paul dangerous?  Probably not.  He was probably lonely, and acting out for other reasons I won't understand.  Still, he made me uncomfortable and my girlfriend ten times more.  If the waiter hadn't kicked him out, I would have found some escape plan for my girlfriend and I.  I apologized to the waiter profusely and left him a generous tip for his troubles.

To contrast that, at the wedding we went to I was recognized by an old friend of my fathers.  I barely knew her, she even forgot my name and had to ask.  Still, she was delighted to see me and promised a spare room and boating trips if we ever came back.  She had no reason to do it, other than being generous to an acquaintance from long ago.

I do believe people are good.  And if your intentions are good, you will attract good people.  A random conversation with an old woman in the streets of Seville, Spain turned into a week stay in an apartment in downtown Paris once.  That same woman's family then flew to the United States to stay with mine, and my brother flew to Paris to stay with them.  All because I was willing to say "hi."  Of course, you need to be careful and use common since.  And always listen to your instincts.

But don't live life scared, you only live it once.  We pass by opportunities of all sorts because we are scared to put ourselves out there.  Saying "hi" to someone could change your life today.

A Good Day Illuminates the Importance of the Little Things

Upon arriving at the beach yesterday Winston did two things:

1.)  Urinated into the freshwater stream, upstream of the large pool where a number of children played.

2.)  Ran and pooped in the ocean.

I was unaware he had done the later until it was too late.  Turds bobbing in the surf make slippery targets for my poop bags, so we moved down the beach.  Winston hates the ocean.  It scares him.  Little by little I coaxed him in, until he finally made the plunge and swam.  Onlookers cheered.

Winston, my girlfriend and I had gone to the beach to clam.  Evidently the recent super moon had resulted in historically low tides.  The Siletz Bay was nearly drained at low tide, and we could walk out into the middle of the muddy bottom.  I brought a shovel but didn't need it, we were able to pull clams out with our hands.  Winston bull charged around the muddy flat excitedly, stopping to dig with us now and then.  We quickly limited.  There's a bucket soaking in my garage now that will soon become chowder.

On the way home we broke out of the cloudy Oregon Coast Range and into the Willamette Valley.  The late sun lit up Mt. Hood like a beacon.  It shined brighter than I had ever seen.

I think often about how to best live my life.  I know it is short.  I know I only get one shot.  I struggle to find the balance between leisure and work, both of which make me happy in the right amounts.  I am coming to believe as much as anything, the key to a happy life is finding pleasure in the little moments.  My dog swimming in the ocean for the first time.  My girlfriend's delight at digging out her first clams.  Mt. Hood lit like a torch.  Those small moments pepper every day, it's just up to us whether we choose to enjoy them.

Don't Forget Me

Teaching you see a lot of faces come and go.  I wish I could say I remember all my kids, but I don't.  Students stick to you by varying degrees, just like you have middle school teachers you can remember, and those you can't.

A fifth grade girl I taught this year will stick.  Sweet and quiet, we shared an interest in the Walking Dead.  She gave a Walking Dead dog tag even.  It hangs from my rear view mirror.

She had a very kind heart, and always brought snacks to share with the class.  But she had every kind of food allergy available it seemed, and couldn't eat many of the same treats she brought.

Once she brought the entire class Jolly Ranchers, but to me she gave a pepperoni stick.  Yum.  But then, about halfway through class she came up to me and said, "I can't eat the Jolly Ranchers, can I have the pepperoni stick back?"  Then I sent her to detention.  Not really, I gave her the stick back.

But what she did last will stick with me.  Her family is moving away this summer.  She made a note for everyone in her class and her teachers that says:

When she handed it to me she said, "don't forget me."  Most kids her age are uncomplicated and genuine, but she especially so.  Emotion was laid bare is powerful, and in this case, touching.  She didn't try to hide it, or laugh it off.  She was sad that she was leaving, and she didn't want the people that she cared about to forget her.  She wants to know that she mattered, and her time spent here mattered.

I can't say how many times I've felt the same at a goodbye.  I comfort myself by rationalizing that if I wasn't sad about leaving, it wasn't worth my time.  My head understands that but my heart doesn't.  Change is the only constant, and on some level I think that is intrinsically sad.

There have been moments in my life, that I wish could last forever.  But they can't.  And I won't forget her.

Nostalgia

The logic of life and time can be suffocating.  Each moment only happens once.  Each day you can never get back.  

I distinctly remember passing the bigger kids in the hall in 3rd grade and saying, "I wish I was a middle schooler!" 

I remember in 6th grade standing on my lawn thinking, "Someday I'll be 20."

Those milestones then seemed impossibly over the horizon.  I know milestones that seem distant now will come.

The present is so powerful, it buries people, memories, friends, songs, and places from the past.  But when triggered, the nostalgia is so powerful in my chest it feels like something is trying to claw out.  There is something very sad in the knowledge, what was will never be.  Sometimes the sadness is beautiful.  Sometimes it is frightening.

In happier moments I embrace change.  The day to day of life is good.  But it is all just borrowed time.  Ashes to ashes.  Dust to dust.

George Washington has a green living room. And one tooth.

I went to Mount Vernon two summer ago.  

George Washington's living room was painted a pale shade of green.  This was a status of his wealth, since that color was particularly expensive.  Like having a tiger in a cage in your living room today, I suppose.  

He also only had one tooth by the time he died.  He was proud of that tooth.  Washington purchased custom dentures that fit around it, because again, he was wealthy.  Nonetheless, his chompers were a constant source of agony.

A middle class American today lives better than a 1%er 200 years ago.  Higher standard of living.  Higher life expectancy.  Better medical care.

I opened my dad's fridge this summer.  He likes to shop at Grocery Outlet (an amazing place).  Inside: exotic goods from all over the world.  Pomegranite juice.  Mango smoothies.  Beers from Germany.  A cheese plate.  Various sausages.  All sold in bulk, and cheaply.  

One or two centuries ago the things in my father's fridge would have been unattainable, except at great cost.  Now they are sold at discount prices. The capitalist system has bestowed a bounty on the average Westerner.

It doesn't mean much unless you appreciate it.  Americans live in a fairy tale. What we want is on demand, when we want it.  Our poor are fat instead of starving.  Poverty here is nothing like poverty throughout the rest of the world, or human history.

Yet a quick stroll through Twitter and Facebook reveals a lot of complaint and discontent.  Why?  Comparison is the thief of joy.  No, you don't stack up to Donald Trump or a hedge fund manager or the rich kids of Instagram.  But who cares?  Money isn't the point of life, not does it measure success.  Plenty of sad, unhappy rich people out there.

Count your blessings.  Enjoy the little things every day.  Is your belly full?   Is your water clean?  Does your waste flush out of sight?  Are you safe?  Are you warm?  Are you healthy?  Do you have friends?  Are you loved?

Your life is better than you know, and better than most of the world.  Just enjoy it.

YOLO Works, 'Til it Doesn't

YOLO.  "You Only Live Once."  Today's ubiquitous battle cry when charging into something you wouldn't normally do.  Applied correctly it leads to a richer, better lived and better examined life.  Applied incorrectly, a license for stupidity and worse.  YOLO, like the Force, can be used for good and evil.  I'll teach you the subtle difference.

GOOD YOLO 1: Make each day, hour and minute of your life count. 
You only get today once.  Live it passionately.  Grow the relationships, knowledge, interests and hobbies you care about.   Much like you should treat every dollar as an investment, minutes of your life.  Don't waste them on things that don't benefit you or others (I'm talking to you, television!).  Don't look ahead to future to the point you ignore and under-appreciate the present.

GOOD YOLO 2: Chart a course to an amazing life.
Set ambitious life goals.  Then, find a way to achieve them.  Right now, write down 10 things you want to accomplish before you die.  Be bold.  Be ridiculous.  Don't let fear or insecurity limit you.  Change your thinking from: "I want to do this, but..."  To, "How can I make this happen?"
And don't just stop at life goals.  Set yearly goals, monthly goals, weekly goals.  Actively try to live the best life possible.  Some goals you will achieve and some you won't.  Either way, you'll have the satisfaction of knowing you tried.

GOOD YOLO 3:  Never be afraid to try something positive for fear of failure or rejection.
You only live once.  So go for it!  With most things, you're not going to look back say "I'm glad I didn't," with some exceptions listed below.  YOLO's fatalistic logic trivializes my fears (mostly social).  It convinces me to say yes to invitations I'd otherwise decline, talk to people I'm afraid to talk to, and--with urging and belittlement from my friends--jump from ridiculous heights into water below.

YOLOOOOooooooooooo.....  If I don't die I hope this water washes away the urine smell.
YOLO has its dark side though.  If your YOLO thinking falls into any of these two categories, reconsider:


BAD YOLO 1:  Sacrificing the future for the immediate present.
Doing anything that sacrifices your long term health, finances, or general well-being in stupid.  Examples include:

• "YOLO!  I will buy this really expensive new car!"  Even though I can't afford it, and the crippling payments will prevent me from doing anything awesome for 5 years.
• "Girls Gone Wild?!  I want that t-shirt.  YOLO!" 

And what would your mom say?

BAD YOLO 2: Rationalizing anything immoral, illegal, or that you otherwise know to be wrong.

I would argue that since you only live once, you want to do as much good as you can while you're here.  Some people take a different approach.  Examples include:

• "Heroin?  Well, I'm sure your dealer cut it clean.  YOLO!"

YOLO, so I choose to live in a haze of addiction and wasted potential!

• Anything you can do in Grand Theft Auto.
• Lying, stealing, cheating on your significant other, kidnapping, or other general douchery. Look up your state's penal code for more examples.

YOLO good, YOLO bad.  It's all in how you use it.

Direct TV: Cancelled. Life: Resumed.

On Friday I took a deep breath and made the call that has changed my left.  I cancelled Direct TV.

Actually, to avoid a cancellation fee of $160 I suspended Direct TV until September, which happens to coincide with the start of college football season . I will not be a martyr for this cause.

The benefits are already apparent.  In place of Family Guy, I've found time to cook.  The crock pot never ceases to amaze me.  You put ingredients in, season to taste, and the crock pot cooks it for you overnight into something delicious.  It borders on magical.  And begs you to be bold.  As I write, an odd mixture of sweet potato, potato, celery, carrot, apple, beans, cinnamon, honey, cayenne pepper and sour cream sits simmering.  While I sleep, it will transform into.... something.

Also today, I made a salsa I heard about while listening to The Splendid Table.  Sort of.  Tomato, pineapple, garlic, onion and spices simmered down into a delicious sweet and spicy mix.  

Instead of Sportscenter, I tried to chip golf balls into the raised garden beds I built, but haven't yet filled.  It was nice outside. It smelled like flowers.  And somewhere in the neighborhood someone was barbecuing.  And the whole time, my TV was black.

Home Again

It is hot, but not humid. I can drink the water from the tap. The roads are reasonable, and free of men on motorcycles honking at me and offering a ride. All prices are clearly marked and no one has tried to overcharge me. I must be in America.
Traveling abroad makes me appreciate our country more. For all it's faults, real and perceived, it is a great place to live.
After a rocky start, my trip ended well. It improved from bad, to palatable, to OK, to fantastic. I wouldn't have though it at the start, but I was sad to leave.
The reason was the people. In Las Terrenas, I loved working with the kids, but it the other volunteers really made it special. Meeting people is one of the best parts of travel. If you're really lucky you meet someone you connect with, who you imagine will be a friend for life. I met a few of those people, and consider myself very lucky.
People are the best part about traveling, and life too. What else really matters? You can be at the most beautiful beach on the world, but if you don't have anyone to share it with you might as well be marooned with a volleyball as your only friend.

Trapped

A perfect storm of events have converged to bereave of all the amenities enjoyed by western civilization. No TV. No internet. No car. No work. No online chess. No Family Guy. If I lived in a high density urban area with a great downtown no problem, but instead I live in Ruralville. My nearest friends are miles away. I can only lure so many drive out to see me on week nights.

My isolation has forced me to wrestle with some realities in my life. I spend an amazing amount of time watching TV or online apparently, because without those I don't know what to do with myself. I spend the first 15 minutes of each day wandering like a lost puppy until I find something.

What have I done? Read a 600 page book, caught up on old copies Newsweek, Time and Sports Illustrated, studied French and organized my spices atop my oven in descending order by height.

I've biked for food, biked for internet, biked for fun and biked for boredom. I've called friends I hadn't talked to in forever. I scrolled through my phone and people I didn't know. The number I had for "Laure" belonged to some 50 year old mom in Oklahoma. How did it get there? Neither of us knew.

Now I know why I've never done all the things I wanted to do: learn French, write a book, get really ripped, etc. I was watching Family Guy.

Family Guy is not real life. A day without TV or the internet is so real that I don't know how to handle yet, but it seems like a good skill to learn.