I have added yet another link to your right, my left. Adam H. (who is on his way to Nashville right now) has begun a blog, and has written consistently since doing so. That's how you start a blog, damnit.
Actually, it's also how you maintain one... in theory.
Saturday, September 30, 2006
Friday, September 29, 2006
"What? Friends listen to 'Endless Love' in the dark!?"
So here’s how bad I am at the whole dating, knowing, flirting thing.
My great uncle J.T. died earlier this week (possible entry coming on this later) here in Nashville. The funeral was today, and my mother came into town. I had the added joy of jumping through the hoops necessary to renew my vehicle registration. Between the red tape, the preaching, and the heartblessing, I was unable to get to the gym at my normal time (2:30 PM CT).
One particularly cool feature of the gym of which I am a member is “Cardio Theater.” I’m not referring to the brand name of the television screens present in front of some cardio machines. I’m talking about a dark room, with just a touch of red light, with a movie screen and high quality sound system. It’s terraced, with different forms of cardio equipment on each tier. It is very similar to a real movie theatah.
Just outside of the Cardio Theater is the schedule of the movies that will be running each day. As I went in tonight, I was verrry tickled to see that tonight’s feature would be “Happy Gilmore,” starring Adam Sandler, Christopher McDonald, Julie Bowen, and Carl Weathers (for the record… I might be a total pus, but I miss Carol Vessey). I smiled, joined the maybe two other people who were already in the room, mounted (he, he) the chosen piece of equipment for the night, and began to exercise my cardiovasculus.
Some two minutes into tonight’s activity, a woman approached the cardio theater from the outside. She peeked in through the glass door with an obvious curiosity, noted the name of the film on the wall, and entered the room. I could tell, from what little light was present, that she had the capacity to be attractive.
You probably know what I mean.
One supposes that you can never be too careful when determining a person’s level of physical attraction in a fairly dark room, and that to me is enough reason not to try too hard. My rule of thumb is, “I don’t date shadows.” Come to think of it, I don’t really date people either. Nevertheless, I generally will ask myself whether or not a woman who is new to me is attractive or not. In this case, the answer was, “Well, she has an attractive shadow.”
And then I stopped thinking about it and got on with the borophyl… er, the movie.
Aaaaaaaaanyway. She took two steps into the virtually empty room and stopped to survey the area. She chose the same type of equipment I was using, but began with the first one she encountered as she entered. She approached the machine, looked at it, looked around again, and then started walking.
You already know what happened. She skipped five machines and then mounted (he he) the machine next to the one on which I was already laboring. I thought that was odd.
Odd.
She began her exercise. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed her turn her head and look at me. In fact, she looked at me for what felt like a week. It was actually about fifteen seconds. Then, she turned her head back to the movie and began to watch. It seemed unusual to me that she sat there and stared for so long.
Unusual. I would never do that. Not sober anyway.
It was at about this time that Kevin Nealon goes into his bit about “it” being “circular.” She laughed out loud. Sounded kinda forced. Then she did it again. And then she proceeded to continue to laugh out loud at every funny thing that happened for the next thirty minutes or so, looking briefly at me every five minutes or so.
She finished her exercise before I did. She proceeded to stretch in the theater, then went out to the weight room to do some legs.
I followed five minutes later, stretched, and walked past her on the way to another area. Curious, I looked at her face as I passed by. She had this blank “I have Big Slick and don’t want to show it” look on her face (which was uniquely attractive, by the way) as she looked back.
And I didn’t even smile.
I just kept walking, thinking nothing of it. I did the rest of my work pretty quickly, and then walked back toward the front door. I waved good bye to the front desk attendant, opened my car door, and sat down.
And then I started thinking about it. “Hang on. An attractive girl is alone in a gym that caters to young professionals at 7:45 PM on a perfect early autumn Friday night, and then she…”
And then I beat my head against my steering wheel numerous times.
Clueless... I think?
My great uncle J.T. died earlier this week (possible entry coming on this later) here in Nashville. The funeral was today, and my mother came into town. I had the added joy of jumping through the hoops necessary to renew my vehicle registration. Between the red tape, the preaching, and the heartblessing, I was unable to get to the gym at my normal time (2:30 PM CT).
One particularly cool feature of the gym of which I am a member is “Cardio Theater.” I’m not referring to the brand name of the television screens present in front of some cardio machines. I’m talking about a dark room, with just a touch of red light, with a movie screen and high quality sound system. It’s terraced, with different forms of cardio equipment on each tier. It is very similar to a real movie theatah.
Just outside of the Cardio Theater is the schedule of the movies that will be running each day. As I went in tonight, I was verrry tickled to see that tonight’s feature would be “Happy Gilmore,” starring Adam Sandler, Christopher McDonald, Julie Bowen, and Carl Weathers (for the record… I might be a total pus, but I miss Carol Vessey). I smiled, joined the maybe two other people who were already in the room, mounted (he, he) the chosen piece of equipment for the night, and began to exercise my cardiovasculus.
Some two minutes into tonight’s activity, a woman approached the cardio theater from the outside. She peeked in through the glass door with an obvious curiosity, noted the name of the film on the wall, and entered the room. I could tell, from what little light was present, that she had the capacity to be attractive.
You probably know what I mean.
One supposes that you can never be too careful when determining a person’s level of physical attraction in a fairly dark room, and that to me is enough reason not to try too hard. My rule of thumb is, “I don’t date shadows.” Come to think of it, I don’t really date people either. Nevertheless, I generally will ask myself whether or not a woman who is new to me is attractive or not. In this case, the answer was, “Well, she has an attractive shadow.”
And then I stopped thinking about it and got on with the borophyl… er, the movie.
Aaaaaaaaanyway. She took two steps into the virtually empty room and stopped to survey the area. She chose the same type of equipment I was using, but began with the first one she encountered as she entered. She approached the machine, looked at it, looked around again, and then started walking.
You already know what happened. She skipped five machines and then mounted (he he) the machine next to the one on which I was already laboring. I thought that was odd.
Odd.
She began her exercise. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed her turn her head and look at me. In fact, she looked at me for what felt like a week. It was actually about fifteen seconds. Then, she turned her head back to the movie and began to watch. It seemed unusual to me that she sat there and stared for so long.
Unusual. I would never do that. Not sober anyway.
It was at about this time that Kevin Nealon goes into his bit about “it” being “circular.” She laughed out loud. Sounded kinda forced. Then she did it again. And then she proceeded to continue to laugh out loud at every funny thing that happened for the next thirty minutes or so, looking briefly at me every five minutes or so.
She finished her exercise before I did. She proceeded to stretch in the theater, then went out to the weight room to do some legs.
I followed five minutes later, stretched, and walked past her on the way to another area. Curious, I looked at her face as I passed by. She had this blank “I have Big Slick and don’t want to show it” look on her face (which was uniquely attractive, by the way) as she looked back.
And I didn’t even smile.
I just kept walking, thinking nothing of it. I did the rest of my work pretty quickly, and then walked back toward the front door. I waved good bye to the front desk attendant, opened my car door, and sat down.
And then I started thinking about it. “Hang on. An attractive girl is alone in a gym that caters to young professionals at 7:45 PM on a perfect early autumn Friday night, and then she…”
And then I beat my head against my steering wheel numerous times.
Clueless... I think?
Thursday, September 28, 2006
Monday, September 25, 2006
My Permanent Accessory
I started writing down every single thing that I could remember about this past weekend. As I got into it, I realized how thoroughly embarassed I am. So I'm not going into great detail. If you weren't around for it though, all you need to know is that my little tailgating experience spun out of control due to some immaturity on my part. I'm quite sure that I dissappointed some people in the process, but I hope not.
Friday, September 22, 2006
Obligatory "What the Hell Are You Doing" Entry
I am somewhat devoid of thought right now. But because the internet exists, and blogs exist, and blog-readers exist, and somehow I still exist, it is incumbent upon me to write something on my little piece of internet real estate. I think it's going to be an update entry combined with random time, which I absolutely hate. But I don't have anything interesting to say about life, death, love, college football, music, failed athletic marketing campaigns, moving, momma, trains, prison, or gettin' drunk. So here you go.
This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang, but with bullets.
• You may have guessed from the smell or the background noise that I am in Athens at Walker's for the second week in a row. I often think Walker's loses money on me, because I sit and plug in and use their kilowatts, while only paying a total of $3 for two cups of coffee.
Then I think of the multiple ocassions on which Trina and I have run $80 bar tabs here, and I realize that they are making money on me.
• I played poker with Galarza and Russ last night. It was my worst finish ever in freeroll poker at a bar. That's really not saying much since it was only my third time, but it's much more dramatic to say it was the worst ever.
• Based on the noises my Explorer has been making, I'm afraid I'm going to have to purchase a new vehicle before the end of the year. As I look at cars on the road, however, I can only find two models that I like. This is not good.
• Is an older woman a good idea? Like 38, not like 70.
• Often when people say, "There's just no substitute for" something, they are incorrect.
• The practice of assigning the name "martini" to any liquor drink in a martini glass pisses me off. It didn't bother me, however, before I started drinking martinis.
• I worry that I might one day act like I drink martinis.
• It's official. I will be missing the Tennessee and Miss. St games. And, I will not be able to watch the Kentucky game.
• I think the homeless problem in Athens is really getting out of hand.
• Some people do freckles well. Other people don't. The girl that just walked into Walker's does.
That's it. I'm spent. Got nothin'.
This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang, but with bullets.
• You may have guessed from the smell or the background noise that I am in Athens at Walker's for the second week in a row. I often think Walker's loses money on me, because I sit and plug in and use their kilowatts, while only paying a total of $3 for two cups of coffee.
Then I think of the multiple ocassions on which Trina and I have run $80 bar tabs here, and I realize that they are making money on me.
• I played poker with Galarza and Russ last night. It was my worst finish ever in freeroll poker at a bar. That's really not saying much since it was only my third time, but it's much more dramatic to say it was the worst ever.
• Based on the noises my Explorer has been making, I'm afraid I'm going to have to purchase a new vehicle before the end of the year. As I look at cars on the road, however, I can only find two models that I like. This is not good.
• Is an older woman a good idea? Like 38, not like 70.
• Often when people say, "There's just no substitute for" something, they are incorrect.
• The practice of assigning the name "martini" to any liquor drink in a martini glass pisses me off. It didn't bother me, however, before I started drinking martinis.
• I worry that I might one day act like I drink martinis.
• It's official. I will be missing the Tennessee and Miss. St games. And, I will not be able to watch the Kentucky game.
• I think the homeless problem in Athens is really getting out of hand.
• Some people do freckles well. Other people don't. The girl that just walked into Walker's does.
That's it. I'm spent. Got nothin'.
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Monday, September 18, 2006
Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes
On Thursday, I bolted out of Nashville a little earlier than planned just to get a few extra hours of socialization into my first almost-autumn jaunt to Georgia. After a few drinks and laughs with the Sarvays, I crashed.
I made it to Athens around noon on Friday. I then got to do one of my favorite things. I sat in Walkers for four hours and finished a mid-season arrangement for Knight. I made it to band ten minutes late and enjoyed catching up with several people I hadn't seen in years. Afterwards, I hung out with Cub and Trina before retiring at a time that seems awfully un-Athens like.
Saturday morning, I was thirty minutes late to band. I ran into Tom Wa||ace in the parking lot, who "had my back" when I moved to Nashville hoping to get some work for a major arranging house in Nashville. I naturally haven't gotten any work from this place, so the conversation gradually moved from tentative to relaxed.
I saw the band and then spent about 45 minutes tailgating in the parking lot. It was amazing to me how old friendhsips that hadn't been touched up in a long time were back to normal - or more accurately, not normal but very good - in no time flat. It occurred to me in the middle of all of this that there actually might be more to game day than the band... or the game. I think I will explore this possibility in the future (I think I'm going to use a ticket - yes, a ticket - for this week's game. I have never done that before.).
Saw the game. I thought the band was fine... certainly better than I had expected, but with a few weak points that you might expect out of a young group. And yeah, there were some other weak points that weren't the result of youth. I am somewhat optimistic about the future of the group, assuming that the future goes the way I think it's going to. It's more complicated and personal than I choose to blog.
The game was probably as good as I could have expected. Good game. Way too much marketing (which probably won't change). "I'm Georgia" is stupid.
Post game, Trina and friends joined me for TN-FL. Boo. This was followed by yet another unreasonably reasonable bed time.
I'm now in Marietta after another fun evening with the Sarvays. Lunch with Sarah is soon, followed by a trip to the Gwinne++ Exhibition, then Nashville for two days.
In other news, I have recently learned that I will have to miss the Tennessee game. Damnit.
Oh... and this trip has really made me want to be able to buy a second place in Athens (after, of course, I buy a first place in Nashville). Guess I better do something about that, huh?
I made it to Athens around noon on Friday. I then got to do one of my favorite things. I sat in Walkers for four hours and finished a mid-season arrangement for Knight. I made it to band ten minutes late and enjoyed catching up with several people I hadn't seen in years. Afterwards, I hung out with Cub and Trina before retiring at a time that seems awfully un-Athens like.
Saturday morning, I was thirty minutes late to band. I ran into Tom Wa||ace in the parking lot, who "had my back" when I moved to Nashville hoping to get some work for a major arranging house in Nashville. I naturally haven't gotten any work from this place, so the conversation gradually moved from tentative to relaxed.
I saw the band and then spent about 45 minutes tailgating in the parking lot. It was amazing to me how old friendhsips that hadn't been touched up in a long time were back to normal - or more accurately, not normal but very good - in no time flat. It occurred to me in the middle of all of this that there actually might be more to game day than the band... or the game. I think I will explore this possibility in the future (I think I'm going to use a ticket - yes, a ticket - for this week's game. I have never done that before.).
Saw the game. I thought the band was fine... certainly better than I had expected, but with a few weak points that you might expect out of a young group. And yeah, there were some other weak points that weren't the result of youth. I am somewhat optimistic about the future of the group, assuming that the future goes the way I think it's going to. It's more complicated and personal than I choose to blog.
The game was probably as good as I could have expected. Good game. Way too much marketing (which probably won't change). "I'm Georgia" is stupid.
Post game, Trina and friends joined me for TN-FL. Boo. This was followed by yet another unreasonably reasonable bed time.
I'm now in Marietta after another fun evening with the Sarvays. Lunch with Sarah is soon, followed by a trip to the Gwinne++ Exhibition, then Nashville for two days.
In other news, I have recently learned that I will have to miss the Tennessee game. Damnit.
Oh... and this trip has really made me want to be able to buy a second place in Athens (after, of course, I buy a first place in Nashville). Guess I better do something about that, huh?
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
[insert enthusiastic yet non-orgasmic exclamation here]
You know... less like "Oh!" and more like "Duuude."
On a whim, I wandered to the cereal aisle at my local Nashville Pub|ix. I knew they wouldn't, but I just needed to see.
They did.
This is even better than Spiderman Dr. Pepper.
That this exists is cool enough. That it is the only type of Wheaties you can buy at a grocery store in the Western Provinces of Big Orange Country almost makes up for "I'm Ge0rgia." Almost.
For what it's worth, "I'm Ge0rgia" is the athletic equivalent of the dummmmmb idea in '93 for the band to dismiss by saying "UGA!" Ge0rgia Bulldog Wheaties, on the other hand, are superhappyfun.
"I've got this great idea. Why don't we pitch it to the Franklin F%@kin' Mint." - Ben Folds
On a whim, I wandered to the cereal aisle at my local Nashville Pub|ix. I knew they wouldn't, but I just needed to see.
They did.
This is even better than Spiderman Dr. Pepper.
That this exists is cool enough. That it is the only type of Wheaties you can buy at a grocery store in the Western Provinces of Big Orange Country almost makes up for "I'm Ge0rgia." Almost.
For what it's worth, "I'm Ge0rgia" is the athletic equivalent of the dummmmmb idea in '93 for the band to dismiss by saying "UGA!" Ge0rgia Bulldog Wheaties, on the other hand, are superhappyfun.
"I've got this great idea. Why don't we pitch it to the Franklin F%@kin' Mint." - Ben Folds
Monday, September 11, 2006
"Cock" is the loneliest number
I have no idea what that means.
If you have already seen BlogPong's blog, you know that he and GeorgiaGirl made it up for the weekend. In addition to the Angie show and the Martinez show, Ln and I participated in a little 5k downtown while Russ was at the bar pregaming and thinking of new things to hump.
In other news, I feel like living in Athens right now. I'm not going to move, but I'm one of those phases when I want to be anywhere but here. It will pass, especially after I visit next week. It has to.
If you have already seen BlogPong's blog, you know that he and GeorgiaGirl made it up for the weekend. In addition to the Angie show and the Martinez show, Ln and I participated in a little 5k downtown while Russ was at the bar pregaming and thinking of new things to hump.
In other news, I feel like living in Athens right now. I'm not going to move, but I'm one of those phases when I want to be anywhere but here. It will pass, especially after I visit next week. It has to.
Friday, September 08, 2006
Thursday, September 07, 2006
%$#@ is the worst word that you can say. No, you shouldn't say %$#@. No, you shouldn't say %$#@ - %$#@, no!
I have spent a significant portion of the day doing paperwork. I hate paperwork. I hate paperwork so much that would marry a woman I didn’t love if she could and would do my paperwork. I hate paperwork so much that I wouldn’t be embarrassed to throw a repetitive childlike internet temper tantrum. I hate hate hate hate hate hate hate HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE paperwork. And I don’t want to do it.
So there.
Aaaaaanyway. On a completely unrelated, yet somehow un-bulleted, topic, I was thinking today about how I converse. I decided to make a list of things that someone can say that make me want to disengage immediately from a conversation. I have mentioned some of these before, but that’s life, Billy. When I have a particular response that I would theoretically offer or when something bears explanation, I will include it in italics (which I have always thought, by the way, should be spelled “italix”). When I have a response that I don’t feel like providing, I will include it in invisible text.
For the record, some readers have definitely used these with me before. Don’t worry about it, and don’t wince the next time you do. It just is.
Here we (really me, but play along) go:
- “You know Brett, you and I are a lot alike.”
Me in theory: “Really? Well, I guess that means that I probably already know what you’re about to say. So don’t.”
- “Well, first of all, let me say that I think your song is great, but…”
Me in theory: “No, you don’t. It could be 'ok, but.' It could be 'good, but.' There is no such thing as 'great, but.'" I made up the phrase, but I learned the lesson the hard way from a student I was teaching over ten years ago who said, “as soon as you say ‘but,’ I already know it was bad.” I don’t think I have done that since without intending for the person to whom I was speaking to know that it really wasn’t very good.
- “Brett, I think you’re a great guy.”
Me in theory: “Check, please… and one for the road.”
- “When you enter…..”
Some of you can name the speaker. Think “Alabama.” Think “red nose.” Think “vicariously,” “vitriolic at best, horrendous at worst.” Think the same old intro for half of the band videos you ever sar.
- [I pick up phone. I answer. Twice. I then hear a click and the caller speaks.] “Mr. Bowcome? Yes, Mr. Baughcum. I am calling to…”
Thanks to our congress which wrote a bill that worked for all of two years.
- “What are you eating under there?”
- [insert text before in which speaker tells me something that doesn’t really affect me, speaker takes a quick breath, continues]”… because…” [speaker continues with more drivel, which incidentally is not a type of tool].
- “Today on the 700 Club, they…”
Don’t.
- “So, what’s up with the DOB job at Ge0rgia?”
No offense. Ask when you want to know, but it puts me on auto-pilot. I’ve only been answering the question for 3.5 years. Poor Trina.
And the big winner these days….
- “So, have you sold any songs yet?”
I am too tired of it to explain.
So there.
Aaaaaanyway. On a completely unrelated, yet somehow un-bulleted, topic, I was thinking today about how I converse. I decided to make a list of things that someone can say that make me want to disengage immediately from a conversation. I have mentioned some of these before, but that’s life, Billy. When I have a particular response that I would theoretically offer or when something bears explanation, I will include it in italics (which I have always thought, by the way, should be spelled “italix”). When I have a response that I don’t feel like providing, I will include it in invisible text.
For the record, some readers have definitely used these with me before. Don’t worry about it, and don’t wince the next time you do. It just is.
Here we (really me, but play along) go:
- “You know Brett, you and I are a lot alike.”
Me in theory: “Really? Well, I guess that means that I probably already know what you’re about to say. So don’t.”
- “Well, first of all, let me say that I think your song is great, but…”
Me in theory: “No, you don’t. It could be 'ok, but.' It could be 'good, but.' There is no such thing as 'great, but.'" I made up the phrase, but I learned the lesson the hard way from a student I was teaching over ten years ago who said, “as soon as you say ‘but,’ I already know it was bad.” I don’t think I have done that since without intending for the person to whom I was speaking to know that it really wasn’t very good.
- “Brett, I think you’re a great guy.”
Me in theory: “Check, please… and one for the road.”
- “When you enter…..”
Some of you can name the speaker. Think “Alabama.” Think “red nose.” Think “vicariously,” “vitriolic at best, horrendous at worst.” Think the same old intro for half of the band videos you ever sar.
- [I pick up phone. I answer. Twice. I then hear a click and the caller speaks.] “Mr. Bowcome? Yes, Mr. Baughcum. I am calling to…”
Thanks to our congress which wrote a bill that worked for all of two years.
- “What are you eating under there?”
- [insert text before in which speaker tells me something that doesn’t really affect me, speaker takes a quick breath, continues]”… because…” [speaker continues with more drivel, which incidentally is not a type of tool].
- “Today on the 700 Club, they…”
Don’t.
- “So, what’s up with the DOB job at Ge0rgia?”
No offense. Ask when you want to know, but it puts me on auto-pilot. I’ve only been answering the question for 3.5 years. Poor Trina.
And the big winner these days….
- “So, have you sold any songs yet?”
I am too tired of it to explain.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
Bender? I don't even...
Oh what to say…
• Not being in Athens this past Saturday felt more normal than ever, and still profoundly weird. You would think that would have gone away by now, and I am starting to wonder if it ever does. On the other hand, from some of the things I am hearing about the gameday experience, I am worried that I will be disappointed to the point of heartbreak when I do get there for UAB.
• I did however miss those of you with whom I normally would have shared a gameday. Badly.
• I went out quite a bit this weekend, and I broke my streak of good behavior in some areas (no I didn’t smoke). When I got back into the gym today, I was in total misery. Then it occurred to me that I was probably feeling the way I did when I wasn’t taking care of myself at all. I hate that I was that miserable for that long.
• I am very excited to seeing BlogPong and GeorgiaGirl this weekend. We have some pretty cool plans.
• I don’t think we learned much of anything from the game on Saturday. Just more questions.
• Not being in Athens this past Saturday felt more normal than ever, and still profoundly weird. You would think that would have gone away by now, and I am starting to wonder if it ever does. On the other hand, from some of the things I am hearing about the gameday experience, I am worried that I will be disappointed to the point of heartbreak when I do get there for UAB.
• I did however miss those of you with whom I normally would have shared a gameday. Badly.
• I went out quite a bit this weekend, and I broke my streak of good behavior in some areas (no I didn’t smoke). When I got back into the gym today, I was in total misery. Then it occurred to me that I was probably feeling the way I did when I wasn’t taking care of myself at all. I hate that I was that miserable for that long.
• I am very excited to seeing BlogPong and GeorgiaGirl this weekend. We have some pretty cool plans.
• I don’t think we learned much of anything from the game on Saturday. Just more questions.
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
An overly romantic and pseudo-intellectual observation of why I love college football
I’m not sure that the profundity of this entry will be as significant as its length, but I feel like chatting.
In some forty hours and change from the time of this writing, the first kickoff of the latest installment of what I believe is the Great American Tradition will take place. I intentionally decline to use the word “pastime” as I think that word is entirely inappropriate for an activity that does far more than give us a way to excuse minutes and hours. To those who care – and in my part of the world, that means “to everyone” – college football shares a position very near the center of life, and very near the top of the list of “important things.” In my part of the world, that list looks something like this:
1. God (optional, but strongly encouraged)
2. Family (optional, but a good idea)
3. Country (optional, but anything else will get your ass kicked)
4. Georgia Bulldogs
I have heard it said before that spirituality is a belief in something, and that religion is a belief in a belief. In terms of college football, I don’t mind saying that I am more or less a religious nut – a card-carrying, blindly loyal, “ohm”-ing, KoolAid drinking member of the cult with secret aspirations to one day be sergeant-at-arms. But why I am that way has changed with age, and – for better or worse – becomes more intense with each passing year.
Like many of you, I was raised on college football. I thought for many years as a kid that I understood the religion. I knew that the young men who were playing the game were generally not playing for money. They had real desire to win, and usually played as such.
I knew of the old stadiums, older stories of late game heroism, rituals of pageantry and superstition, and legacies that were honored by sons of sons of players who wore leather helmets and rode trains to the bowl game (back when there was only one). There are very interesting stories of tradition and family at almost every school.
I knew a few of the quirks that lent a uniqueness to many of the universities where football was played. There were the schools with weird mascots (A nut? A tree? What's a wahoo?), one school with three mascots, the school that Jesus himself believed in, the college that had the old coach with the thick glasses (and that was a long time ago!), the school whose name started with “M” but had a “U” on it’s helmet, the houndstooth hat, some school that always touched a rock, and a dog that sure seemed lazy to me (Now I think he's "regal.").
The authenticity, traditions, and unique character of college football are the attractions for many who love the game. They were for me as well, and were a big reason that I preferred college football to any other sport to which I paid attention when I was rather young.
As I sat as a freshman on my first day in the marching band, I remember that understanding beginning to change. I remember the chant of the Georgia fans in Williams-Brice Stadium one week later, sarcastically welcoming South Carolina to the conference at the end of the game: “SEC!! SEC!!” I remember trying to figure out if it was okay for me to say that yet, since it was my first game as a Bulldog. I eventually did, and it felt pretty damn good to be a part of it.
That was 1992. On subsequent Saturdays in that and subsequent years, I would buy into my school a bit more. As the stadium began to feel like home turf, I began to use the word “we” when discussing the football fortunes of my school. I would allow a loss on Saturday to ruin the following Sunday and Monday. I would begin to become distracted from all of the other matters of the world for five months out of the year, because football season at the University of Georgia had something to do with me. I began to feel that I owned a little piece of the tradition and a big piece of the future of that program, and it brought my understanding of the religion to a new level. A Georgia victory was a personal victory, and a Georgia defeat was a personal defeat of the worst type. I had ownership.
Eventually, I would become more involved in the activities of a Saturday than I had ever anticipated that I would. Though I will skip the details for a degree of privacy (though if you don’t know and you look back far enough, you can figure out what I’m talking about), my livelihood eventually came from Georgia football. Needless to say, the ownership I had as a student was only amplified. Not only was I attracted to the game as a sport, engaged by the substance of the game and its contributors, and tied to the activity by a personal feeling of possession; my every waking hour was now significantly affected by the results of a Saturday. I had gone from one who respected the religion, to a curious visitor, to a parishioner, to a priest.
As you may know, I eventually decided that there were other matters in my life that needed attention. I left the situation on excellent terms and moved away from Athens. But I have never left the faith.
I sat tonight contemplating what it is that drives that religion now. While some of the old factors remain, things have changed (the greatest tradition of all!). Though I do still think about Georgia football much of the time, it most certainly doesn’t dominate my life the way that it once did. Yet, my deference to it seems not to have weakened at all.
When I think about why that is the case, I come up with a few answers. But there are two reasons that I think will last until I can’t get out of bed anymore.
One is that those fall Saturdays are wonderful temporal landmarks – events which we can correlate with a memory of who we were at one point in time. Perhaps a better way to say that would be to say that, at some point, gamedays become sort of mile markers for our lives.
This Saturday, I believe Farrie B still will be pregnant with her second child. Many years from now, she will remember the day in that context – largely because she can’t drink, but she will remember it nevertheless. I remember Marshall ’04 because I had ruined one of the best friendships I had ever had the night before. I remember Auburn ’01 because it was the night when Dwight went off on the band, and it was starting to become apparent that something was going on (the next 13 months would completely suck). I remember Florida ’99 because of whose ass I tried to cover the night before. I remember Auburn ‘95, because I had my head buzzed the week before (and it was windy and cold for a bald boy).
This Saturday, old friends will meet each other’s children for the first time. This Saturday, someone will be praised for how much weight they have lost since last fall, or talked about behind their back for how much they have put on. Someone will show up to this Saturday’s game and will see people he loves and trusts for the first time since the divorce. Someone will have tripled her net worth since last fall. Someone will have to break the news that, “Daddy isn’t doing well and doesn’t have very long.” Someone will arrive in Athens this Saturday, and his friends will meet his girlfriend for the first time. Afterward, they’ll say, “I’ve never seen him that happy.” This Saturday, someone will go to their first college football game ever. Someone else will go to their last.
The second reason for this religion's stickiness brings two borrowed thoughts to mind. The first is paraphrased from a Bulldog whom I can’t identify. He basically said that Saturdays were less about football and more about “our way of doing things versus their way of doing things.” The second comes from Tom Jacks0n speaking to the band last November. He explained, “Being a part of a great institution is one of the most important things we can do in life because institutions outlive us.”
As much as we love to stress the importance of individual achievement, independence, and self-reliance, those of us who are happiest are those who belong to something that requires and returns a bit more than the Columbia Record Club or the body of holders of the Kroger Plus Card. When we have a stake in something and we are near other people who have similar stakes in the same thing, I think we become a less significant part of a greater thing. Whether you think this is cool because it feels good or you realize that this is like the “self-transcendence” at the top of Masl0w’s Hier@rchy of Needs, it is a beautiful phenomenon that goes beyond the need to “belong” somewhere. You fulfill the need of working and feeling as part of a “we” rather than as an “I.”
You may think I’m taking this too far, and I frankly don’t care. It makes no sense to me that this activity would engender this level of loyalty – especially considering how frequently it takes away from those who love it! – on the basis of sport alone. It’s more than a game, and it will be as long as the stewards of institutions realize that it is more than a game and foster its contributions to the lives of those who participate. This contribution, of course, is the true mission of universities. Right?
...........
On the other hand, there are few things I love better than watching a safety hit a ball carrier, watching the ball carrier stand up and shake it off, taking a sip of my Jack and Dr. Pepper, and saying “Dude!” It’s just much cooler when there is someone else sitting next to me sipping their drink who says and means, “I know!”
In some forty hours and change from the time of this writing, the first kickoff of the latest installment of what I believe is the Great American Tradition will take place. I intentionally decline to use the word “pastime” as I think that word is entirely inappropriate for an activity that does far more than give us a way to excuse minutes and hours. To those who care – and in my part of the world, that means “to everyone” – college football shares a position very near the center of life, and very near the top of the list of “important things.” In my part of the world, that list looks something like this:
1. God (optional, but strongly encouraged)
2. Family (optional, but a good idea)
3. Country (optional, but anything else will get your ass kicked)
4. Georgia Bulldogs
I have heard it said before that spirituality is a belief in something, and that religion is a belief in a belief. In terms of college football, I don’t mind saying that I am more or less a religious nut – a card-carrying, blindly loyal, “ohm”-ing, KoolAid drinking member of the cult with secret aspirations to one day be sergeant-at-arms. But why I am that way has changed with age, and – for better or worse – becomes more intense with each passing year.
Like many of you, I was raised on college football. I thought for many years as a kid that I understood the religion. I knew that the young men who were playing the game were generally not playing for money. They had real desire to win, and usually played as such.
I knew of the old stadiums, older stories of late game heroism, rituals of pageantry and superstition, and legacies that were honored by sons of sons of players who wore leather helmets and rode trains to the bowl game (back when there was only one). There are very interesting stories of tradition and family at almost every school.
I knew a few of the quirks that lent a uniqueness to many of the universities where football was played. There were the schools with weird mascots (A nut? A tree? What's a wahoo?), one school with three mascots, the school that Jesus himself believed in, the college that had the old coach with the thick glasses (and that was a long time ago!), the school whose name started with “M” but had a “U” on it’s helmet, the houndstooth hat, some school that always touched a rock, and a dog that sure seemed lazy to me (Now I think he's "regal.").
The authenticity, traditions, and unique character of college football are the attractions for many who love the game. They were for me as well, and were a big reason that I preferred college football to any other sport to which I paid attention when I was rather young.
As I sat as a freshman on my first day in the marching band, I remember that understanding beginning to change. I remember the chant of the Georgia fans in Williams-Brice Stadium one week later, sarcastically welcoming South Carolina to the conference at the end of the game: “SEC!! SEC!!” I remember trying to figure out if it was okay for me to say that yet, since it was my first game as a Bulldog. I eventually did, and it felt pretty damn good to be a part of it.
That was 1992. On subsequent Saturdays in that and subsequent years, I would buy into my school a bit more. As the stadium began to feel like home turf, I began to use the word “we” when discussing the football fortunes of my school. I would allow a loss on Saturday to ruin the following Sunday and Monday. I would begin to become distracted from all of the other matters of the world for five months out of the year, because football season at the University of Georgia had something to do with me. I began to feel that I owned a little piece of the tradition and a big piece of the future of that program, and it brought my understanding of the religion to a new level. A Georgia victory was a personal victory, and a Georgia defeat was a personal defeat of the worst type. I had ownership.
Eventually, I would become more involved in the activities of a Saturday than I had ever anticipated that I would. Though I will skip the details for a degree of privacy (though if you don’t know and you look back far enough, you can figure out what I’m talking about), my livelihood eventually came from Georgia football. Needless to say, the ownership I had as a student was only amplified. Not only was I attracted to the game as a sport, engaged by the substance of the game and its contributors, and tied to the activity by a personal feeling of possession; my every waking hour was now significantly affected by the results of a Saturday. I had gone from one who respected the religion, to a curious visitor, to a parishioner, to a priest.
As you may know, I eventually decided that there were other matters in my life that needed attention. I left the situation on excellent terms and moved away from Athens. But I have never left the faith.
I sat tonight contemplating what it is that drives that religion now. While some of the old factors remain, things have changed (the greatest tradition of all!). Though I do still think about Georgia football much of the time, it most certainly doesn’t dominate my life the way that it once did. Yet, my deference to it seems not to have weakened at all.
When I think about why that is the case, I come up with a few answers. But there are two reasons that I think will last until I can’t get out of bed anymore.
One is that those fall Saturdays are wonderful temporal landmarks – events which we can correlate with a memory of who we were at one point in time. Perhaps a better way to say that would be to say that, at some point, gamedays become sort of mile markers for our lives.
This Saturday, I believe Farrie B still will be pregnant with her second child. Many years from now, she will remember the day in that context – largely because she can’t drink, but she will remember it nevertheless. I remember Marshall ’04 because I had ruined one of the best friendships I had ever had the night before. I remember Auburn ’01 because it was the night when Dwight went off on the band, and it was starting to become apparent that something was going on (the next 13 months would completely suck). I remember Florida ’99 because of whose ass I tried to cover the night before. I remember Auburn ‘95, because I had my head buzzed the week before (and it was windy and cold for a bald boy).
This Saturday, old friends will meet each other’s children for the first time. This Saturday, someone will be praised for how much weight they have lost since last fall, or talked about behind their back for how much they have put on. Someone will show up to this Saturday’s game and will see people he loves and trusts for the first time since the divorce. Someone will have tripled her net worth since last fall. Someone will have to break the news that, “Daddy isn’t doing well and doesn’t have very long.” Someone will arrive in Athens this Saturday, and his friends will meet his girlfriend for the first time. Afterward, they’ll say, “I’ve never seen him that happy.” This Saturday, someone will go to their first college football game ever. Someone else will go to their last.
The second reason for this religion's stickiness brings two borrowed thoughts to mind. The first is paraphrased from a Bulldog whom I can’t identify. He basically said that Saturdays were less about football and more about “our way of doing things versus their way of doing things.” The second comes from Tom Jacks0n speaking to the band last November. He explained, “Being a part of a great institution is one of the most important things we can do in life because institutions outlive us.”
As much as we love to stress the importance of individual achievement, independence, and self-reliance, those of us who are happiest are those who belong to something that requires and returns a bit more than the Columbia Record Club or the body of holders of the Kroger Plus Card. When we have a stake in something and we are near other people who have similar stakes in the same thing, I think we become a less significant part of a greater thing. Whether you think this is cool because it feels good or you realize that this is like the “self-transcendence” at the top of Masl0w’s Hier@rchy of Needs, it is a beautiful phenomenon that goes beyond the need to “belong” somewhere. You fulfill the need of working and feeling as part of a “we” rather than as an “I.”
You may think I’m taking this too far, and I frankly don’t care. It makes no sense to me that this activity would engender this level of loyalty – especially considering how frequently it takes away from those who love it! – on the basis of sport alone. It’s more than a game, and it will be as long as the stewards of institutions realize that it is more than a game and foster its contributions to the lives of those who participate. This contribution, of course, is the true mission of universities. Right?
...........
On the other hand, there are few things I love better than watching a safety hit a ball carrier, watching the ball carrier stand up and shake it off, taking a sip of my Jack and Dr. Pepper, and saying “Dude!” It’s just much cooler when there is someone else sitting next to me sipping their drink who says and means, “I know!”
Monday, August 28, 2006
VI
Not much to say. Just finished Br00kwood's drill. I find myself getting excited about football season, then being dragged back to Earth by a news report about Iran.
However, you can't help but feel good when listening and watching this. Oh for a life that was that simple again.
Six. Six like a touchdown, not six like Blossom's friend.
However, you can't help but feel good when listening and watching this. Oh for a life that was that simple again.
Six. Six like a touchdown, not six like Blossom's friend.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Coming this February...
from Cadbury/Schweppes, the most geniune expression of affection ever found in retail stores... the Jim Cox Valentine's Conversation Hearts.
Monday, August 21, 2006
So I decided...
this weekend, based on the thoughts leading up to my last entry, that it was probably time for me to go do some stuff - anything to get out of the house and experience something other than work and the continuation of habits. I'm glad I did.
• If you like smart, funny movies, I think you will love Little Miss Sunshine. It's ridiculously well written, the whole cast is great, and Alan Arkin made me piss in my pants. I laughed out loud over ten times in the course of this film, and that has to be a record for anything I have seen post-Dwight.
• I went to the local art museum on Saturday to see an exhibit of Pulitzer Prize-winning photographs. One of them was the most depressing picture I have ever seen. I am glad I saw it, but it brought me as close to becoming physically ill over a photo as I have ever been. See it here (go ahead, it's not graphic per se), and make sure to read the story that surrounds and follows it.
When we're not at our best, this can be a sick fucking world.
• Speaking of sick fucking world, look at what hit myspace over the weekend.
• If you like smart, funny movies, I think you will love Little Miss Sunshine. It's ridiculously well written, the whole cast is great, and Alan Arkin made me piss in my pants. I laughed out loud over ten times in the course of this film, and that has to be a record for anything I have seen post-Dwight.
• I went to the local art museum on Saturday to see an exhibit of Pulitzer Prize-winning photographs. One of them was the most depressing picture I have ever seen. I am glad I saw it, but it brought me as close to becoming physically ill over a photo as I have ever been. See it here (go ahead, it's not graphic per se), and make sure to read the story that surrounds and follows it.
When we're not at our best, this can be a sick fucking world.
• Speaking of sick fucking world, look at what hit myspace over the weekend.
Friday, August 18, 2006
What's left of the Long, Pensive Entry
Ehhh… I’m pulling the emergency-stop cord on the long, pensive entry. As I wrote it (4 days worth!) I realized that I only needed to write it so I could figure out, um, where I am, er, whatever. Once I wrote it, I realized that it completely sucks to read, not to mention that there are people in the world who make $100 per hour to listen to people say stuff like that. I don’t have that kind of money.
So instead I’ll summarize life of late (there might be an entry coming about the term “of late,” and other phrases used by sportscasters that sound one degree beyond their educational level). After the Bowling Green thing came, then went, then came, then went, I had that very common drive to cure immediately my every personal ill. You know the feeling. Something bad happens. You decide it must be your fault. You get abnormally motivated and say to yourself, “That’s IT!!!!” You promise yourself that things are going to change immediately and you make grandiose plans for improvement of your life, convinced that you can go to the gym for thirty minutes and double your bench press, intelligence, penis size (well, those of you who have one get this I suppose), personal savings, and social charm.
I even remember expressing that twitch a couple of times. I also recall telling Blog This that I thought I might crawl into a hole.
At some point, I calmed down, but still somehow more or less crawled into a hole. Intentionally or not, I isolated myself and kinda started doing things I thought I should be doing every day. Some great habits emerged, some bad ones withered away, and both happened for all the right reasons. Somehow I have managed to maintain this for way longer than I have before (for example, today is Day 49 away from nicotine). This is good.
There are two verrrrry mild negative side effects of this. One is that I don’t have much of a social life right now (my own doing). In fact, I almost started making phone calls this afternoon to see how many of you I could get to Nashville this weekend. But I thought better of it because it would be inconsiderate (I know some of you would have gone out of your way to do so), and because I think being alone a little longer is probably a good thing.
The second is that I am as emotionally neutral as I ever remember being. It’s a little scary to think about, since that wouldn't seem to be compatible with my desired occupation (“I Guess Everything’s Okay” wouldn’t be much of a song title… there’s another future entry). But it’s not that scary. I don’t think one must be excessively excited or depressed to put emotion into songs. In fact it might help one to be neither.
So anyway, I guess that’s part of why I’m not saying that much these days. I think it’s temporary, and I’m sure it’s good. In fact, just writing down what I thought was going on seems to have revealed that I have more to say than I thought I did. So much for pulling the cord on the long, pensive entry. But I thought you would like to know.
So instead I’ll summarize life of late (there might be an entry coming about the term “of late,” and other phrases used by sportscasters that sound one degree beyond their educational level). After the Bowling Green thing came, then went, then came, then went, I had that very common drive to cure immediately my every personal ill. You know the feeling. Something bad happens. You decide it must be your fault. You get abnormally motivated and say to yourself, “That’s IT!!!!” You promise yourself that things are going to change immediately and you make grandiose plans for improvement of your life, convinced that you can go to the gym for thirty minutes and double your bench press, intelligence, penis size (well, those of you who have one get this I suppose), personal savings, and social charm.
I even remember expressing that twitch a couple of times. I also recall telling Blog This that I thought I might crawl into a hole.
At some point, I calmed down, but still somehow more or less crawled into a hole. Intentionally or not, I isolated myself and kinda started doing things I thought I should be doing every day. Some great habits emerged, some bad ones withered away, and both happened for all the right reasons. Somehow I have managed to maintain this for way longer than I have before (for example, today is Day 49 away from nicotine). This is good.
There are two verrrrry mild negative side effects of this. One is that I don’t have much of a social life right now (my own doing). In fact, I almost started making phone calls this afternoon to see how many of you I could get to Nashville this weekend. But I thought better of it because it would be inconsiderate (I know some of you would have gone out of your way to do so), and because I think being alone a little longer is probably a good thing.
The second is that I am as emotionally neutral as I ever remember being. It’s a little scary to think about, since that wouldn't seem to be compatible with my desired occupation (“I Guess Everything’s Okay” wouldn’t be much of a song title… there’s another future entry). But it’s not that scary. I don’t think one must be excessively excited or depressed to put emotion into songs. In fact it might help one to be neither.
So anyway, I guess that’s part of why I’m not saying that much these days. I think it’s temporary, and I’m sure it’s good. In fact, just writing down what I thought was going on seems to have revealed that I have more to say than I thought I did. So much for pulling the cord on the long, pensive entry. But I thought you would like to know.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)