Letting Go.

(The freedom of summer days like this are coming to a close)

Unless you've been pressing the button inside The Hatch for the past few years, you probably know that the Dallas Mavericks recently won the NBA championship.  They completely dismantled the Heat, making LeBron James the real-life version of Roy Munson from Kingpin.  (One positive thing, ESPN is looking for a new 24/7 news story now that Brett Favre is gone for good--James' failures may have the same annoying legs behind it).  Now, as a diehard Houston Rockets fan, I don't think I could have had a worse scenario (other than Derek Fisher selling Khloe Kardashian's soul for one more Lakers ring.)  I have always hated the Mavericks, mainly because I cannot stand Jason "trophy tat" Terry (everyone knows the real JET is Kenny Smith, the starting point guard for the Rockets in their championship years) and with the exception of a few friends, I've found most Mavs fans to be slightly arrogant.  Also, I will admit that I'm slightly jealous Dallas has a superstar who doesn't get injured more often than Sam Jackson from Unbreakable.  However, it was almost equally as hard for me to knowingly root for Chris Bosh.  Our admiration for him is so low that my friends and I literally started using the word "Bosh" in place of profanity this past year.  (If he ends up getting traded to the Rockets at any point in my life, I will pull the fail-safe on The Hatch and renounce my Houston fandom.  See what I did there?  This post is gonna be slightly heavy on the Lost references...it's been a while). 

Although it was clear from the start that the Mavericks were going to be portrayed as the good guys (this article on Dirk vs. the three mercenaries was almost too good), I went into the series actually hoping to see the Miami, the team attempting to buy a ring, pull it out.  I know what you're probably thinking, but I have mentioned in several posts before that I am an irrationally stubborn person, right?  My unreasonable sports hatred of a guy who literally flies around like an airplane after big shots has caused me to become morally ambiguous. (In my defense, I could have sworn that until this postseason Terry only played well against the Rockets.) 

I was thinking about making up for my shady morals by writing a quick morality play a la Shakespeare starring Miami's Big Three and Dirk.  I would have tried to use a LOT of Old English...  so I think I did us all a favor by staying away from it and keeping Charging Interests as unambitious as possible. One thing is for certain about my unreasonable disdain for the Mavericks and the city of Dallas as a whole...

I need to let it go.

(I found this hilarious gem in my phone the other day.  I didn't know who to root for, but I do know that you can never go wrong taking awkward, slightly unnerving self-pictures of yourself...amiright?)

The same things can be said in a few other things in my life.  The other day my friend Kovach asked me to play in a summer basketball league that plays two games every Thursday night.  I initially told him no, saying that I couldn't commit to the money or being in The Woodlands every Thursday night.  Sounds like a pretty convincing reason, right?  Well, truthfully the real reason why I told him no was that I selfishly want to remember my time playing pickup basketball with my best friends from college.  After playing four or five times a week with the same group of friends, I got a little spoiled.  But because we were a more selective clique than the cast of all of Christopher Nolan's movies, we had a sort of ESP on the court that helped us win most of our pickup games (seriously, The Dark Knight Rises might as well be Inception 2, But Sorry DiCaprio, We're Kinda Already Committed to Christian Bale.  Not that I'm complaining...and I'm looking to patent that name, by the way).  I knew that playing with a bunch of relative strangers on the court wouldn't be the same.

But I need to let it go.

I decided to play tonight after Kovach's consistent prodding.  Seriously, that guy will be a great salesman one day if he chooses to be.  There were about eight of us at this thing and I hadn't played with any of them in years, if ever.  In a random twist, one of my best friends and fellow Roadhouse teammate's little brother played on the team.  (ESP doesn't travel over to younger brothers, unfortunuately).  We ended up cruising through both victories by over 30 points (playing against a bunch of aging dads didn't hurt) and while it was not the same as college, it definitely wasn't the depressing feeling I thought it may be.

(Except for towards the end of the first game.  We were winning by 30 when I had a clear path to the lane.  I went up for the layup when one of their players decided to sweep the leg and viciously take me out in midair.  I went sprawling out of bounds, my knee crashing into the hardwood floor and back crumpling into a metal pillar.  I'm not even kidding when I say I thought I might have been seriously injured for about five seconds.  Luckily I got up with only giant crick in my back and a throbbing knee.  I may feel like hell tomorrow, but I DID make the layup, BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT MEN DO.)

 

(Plus, I had to play because my new shoes via Nick and our friend David are KICKIN') 

After all this, I'm going to make a shocking revelation: I am not good at letting things go.

I'm not going to sit here and pretend like I've got this thing figured out after finally giving Dallas their due or one night of pickup basketball with new teammates.  Those are small, asinine things compared to the rest of my life.  Change is scary. I believe God has a plan and I trust Him, but it doesn't make the fact that I'm moving on with my life any less bittersweet.  The fabled after-college road trip that I have been so desperate to take for years may never take place if all works out for me and I get a job relatively soon (that is a big 'if').  I feel like I am in the sideways world in the last season of Lost and I am too stubborn to realize what's in front of me (Did I just refer to myself as one of my least favorite characters, Jack?  Yikes, we need to end this soon).  I need Christian Shephard to finally show up and tell me to "let go".  (Don't watch that unless you've seen the end of Lost or don't care.)

Many of my lifelong friends are about to scatter across the United States, possibly making these last few weeks together the last time we'll be in the same place for the foreseeable future?   Let it go.  My desire to play basketball with Roadhouse forever?  Let it go.  The girl who is so damn cool that, although it will never work out, I am absolutely crazy about?  Let her go.  Realizing I can't see my sister and her family whenever I want anymore?  Let it go.  Thinking it's cool to use Superman blankets as drapes in my apartment?  Gotta let it go.  Jokingly trying to be a hipster?  Well, according to Happy Endings, I've already failed by trying so I've got to let it go.  Having an unreasonable devotion to bad horror movies?

Sorry, not letting that one go just yet.

(If you've hated this article...tell that to my inspiration: The Graduate.  And yes, I did buy this at a vinyl store recently.  I'm a walking cliche.)

These are uncertain times ahead, but with a little Faith, I couldn't be more excited for them.

-PB

Today's Not Top Ten List: Moving in with Your Parents

I was originally going to write this post on "Why Pop Culture Matters", but I decided against it because I didn't want to become the Scream 4 of this blog and, well...that would be so meta. (But it will be coming up soon, I promise.) So I decided to go with the single most defining aspect of my life right now: My Parents.

Now, this isn't the "I-love-my-parents-and-here-is-my-paean-to-how-they-raised-me" post (although it is true that I do love my parents [btw, we need to get footnotes like Grantland]). That wouldn't really reflect how life is right now, so it would be wrong to merely write about all the great things. So I decided to do 5 good things, 5 bad things, one after another. Just like the Facts of Life, I'm gonna take the good and the bad and realize what I always had...a pretty good life when all is said and done.

So without further ado, my quasi-Top Ten List about living with my parents:

1) Good: My mom makes my lunch.

The last thing I do before I groggily leave my home for work in the morning is reach into the fridge and pull out a grocery bag with what I presume to be my lunch. I rarely, if ever, take a peek to see what's inside. (It has just now occurred to me that my mom could put rocks in tupperware and I'd probably still take it. Your move, Mom.) So, the biggest surprise of the whole day is usually when I sit down for lunch in the office break room and I untie the bag to reveal the actual contents of my lunch. You see, this is a great moment because my mom rarely just packs the usual sandwich, chips, and fruit. She goes all out for dinner and then carries it over to lunch, usually in the form of leftovers. Smoked chicken, pasta of all varieties, and sliced fruit are usually in order. One time, I made it to the office with a miniature Thanksgiving Dinner. I would most likely hate my life if it weren't for the life-sustaining and soul-lifting meals packed away in layers of plastic. And the best part of all of this is that I don't have to lift a finger for any of it. I wake up in the morning and it's just there. Like my own personal manna from heaven. Except more meat.

2) Bad: My mom makes my lunch.

Unfortunately, this seems to also be one of the highlights of the day for my coworkers.

I am the only American in an office full of Germans. While this sounds like a scene in Saving Private Ryan, it's ok guys. I speak (near) fluent German and we all get along pretty well. However, the only time I butt heads with them is at lunchtime, because they cannot seem to let the fact go that I don't make my own lunch. Ok, so I'm not a German 4,000 some-odd miles away from my parents. I don't live in foreign country surrounded with people that think I'm a walking WWII stereotype. I'm not closing in on 30 with almost a decade of work experience behind me. I don't roll my own cigarettes. And I don't make my own lunch. Which makes me less of an adult, apparently.

Before I even open my lunch, I'll hear, "So what has mama packed for you today?" (Or my personal favorite: My mom would write my name on my bag to help keep track of it among my siblings' lunches in the fridge. I asked her to stop. My ever-vigilant coworker opines, "Oh your name isn't written on it? How did you know it wasn't yours? ). Nevermind that I made my own goddamn breakfast, lunch and dinner for 4 goddamn years. And pretty good ones too! Ask, my co-editor, Ryan. I was always cooking for them at The Orchid. But in the end, I get the last laugh because I'll call them old and German and they'll shut up for a bit. Then they'll say I'm a kid again and we'll repeat the whole process until lunch is over (World War II it is not).

3) Good: I skip out on rent and utilities.

This is probably the most obvious thing about living with your 'rents. There is no rent. There are no utilities. In fact, thanks to automatic withdrawls, I no longer remember what a bill looks like. Unfortunately, I have to pay a small mortgage in gas to get to work, but I guess things could be worse. So, I get to enjoy free HD TV with premium movie and sports channels while I check facebook on my iPhone. All thanks to the largesse (?) of my parents. Just call me GOB Bluth.

4) Bad: I live in The Woodlands

Now, for most people, this sounds like a great problem to have. They would say, "Great homes, great schools, great shopping, trails, parks. What more could you want?" And to them I would say, "What the hell?! Are you 45 with a wife and kids?!" The Woodlands proper has 2 bars. Count 'em. Two. Both of them are filled to the brim with yuppies and overpriced drinks (funny how the two seem to go hand in hand). Unless you feel like dropping a Jackson for a meal, if you dine out, it's most likely going to come from a chain (We have TGI Fridays and Chili's within two minutes of each other). Now, I'm not exactly the world's most hipster or alternative guy. I don't have any tattoos or piecings, but I do enjoy a vibrant neighborhood with decent nightlife. After going to the Free Press Summerfest (aka, The "Houston can be just as cool as Austin. Really guys, I mean it" Festival) near Midtown, I can say that The Woodlands has none of these. Just like Sufjan said once about Detroit, The Woodlands is shaping up to be once a great place, now a prison.

5) Good: My dog, Sammy

Enough said.


Well, because I'm lazy, the last half of this list will appear tomorrow. Or otherwise call me Tyler Womack.

-Nick These guys absolutely killed it at the Free Press Summerfest. I don't care what you say about electronic(ish) music.

Ten Things to Do After Graduating College

I've had a hard time thinking of new things to write about, so I've decided to reflect on my first few weeks of post-graduation life and give a few recommendations on how to become an out-of-college, out-of-work, single 22 year-old who seems destined to move back in to his old high school bedroom. Trust me, it's much cooler than it sounds.

1. Stay in Shape
   While I've never been the face of men's health, endless amounts of pickup basketball has allowed my body to stay in a form that looks relatively human.   Now that pickup games in The Woodlands are seemingly non-existent and I'm not allowed in the Texas A&M rec center post-graduation, I've had to improvise.  (I have officially retired the USA Starburys.  My new bball shoes--another patriotic pair of  red, white, and blue Nikes, have sat in the backseat of my car unused for about a month).  I don't think I'll ever turn into the ultrarunner than Christopher McDougall's book Born to Run inspires me to be, but a little bit of running every day has allowed me to keep my sanity, not to mention prevent me from looking like Tommy Boy.  Plus, one of the best things about the town is the scenery, which I'll take over treadmilling every time.

2. Pick Up a New Show
   While I continue to look for a job, I've had some free time to start up the show Chuck.  Contrary to my friend Janisch's minority belief, this show is absolutely in the top three hour-long shows currently airing (along with Justified and Dexter).  Now, when I say I've had some free time, I should admit that I watched the first three seasons in two weeks.  (But it should be noted that my roommates and I actually started this show during finals week.  What can I say...my finals didn't really count towards my final grade so I kinda stopped caring.  BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT MEN DO.)

3. Reconnect with High School Friends
   It's inevitable to come back to my hometown during holidays and summers without running into a myriad of people that went to my high school.  I used to dread going to bars here because I figured there was a reason why I didn't stay in touch with them over the years.  That being said, I have reconnected with some old high school friends in the past few weeks where it feels like we have barely parted from the halls of College Park High.  After going through separate but similar experiences in the past four years, it's refreshing to catch up with old acquaintances and hear about their successes.  (One thing I'd recommend: if you are going to talk to someone, at least feign interest in them.  Recently I had someone whom I've kept in relatively decent touch with over the years, someone whom I've even seen multiple times in the past six months, literally ask me why I was wearing a class ring and what college I graduated from.  Now I know I've been to a few schools...but seriously?  Very cool.  Needless to say, I don't think she's one of the six people reading this blog.)

4. Groom Yourself
   Gone are the days where I could grow facial hair for fun (unless I fulfill my lifelong dream of becoming Ernest Hemingway...minus the alcoholism).  Even long hair doesn't feel as cool as it once did and I'm considering buzzing my head just like the old days.  (Somewhere my sister is ecstatic.)

5. Become a Vagabond
    Between my duplex in College Station and my parent's place in The Woodlands, I have no permanent home right now.  I feel like a drifter from an old western, sliding from town to town with no end in sight.  I am not a big fan of making plans...or as my friend Cale recently put it last week, "My summer plans end tomorrow morning when I return my Uhaul."  Minus the job hunt, I'm right there with him.

6. Get a Record Player
    My dad is a music aficionado.  He grew up listening to some of the greatest music of all-time: The Beatles, The Grass Roots, Three Dog Night, Wilson Pickett, Gladys Knight, The Doors, The Turtles, etc.  I recently found his old vinyl records and was immediately transported back to 60s and 70s.  Over 300 albums, you name it, he had it.  After finding his record player, I spend most of my free time (I've caught up with Chuck, after all) listening to the old records in my room while wearing a v-neck and red Toms-knockoff shoes.  You don't have to tell me...I am so cool and don't look like a tool at all!  (Speaking of the shoes, my friend Alya recently said "You know what they say about red shoes: only children and prostitutes wear them."  Well, I graduated college....so I'm not a child.

7. Catch Up on Reading
   As an English major, I have been forced to read some mundane books over the years against my will.  No I would not like to read a tenth consecutive book about racial inequality.  Yes, I realize it is a very important topic and that white people are the devil, but reading literally nothing but books of that genre eventually takes its toll on a person.  Now that I am done with college, I am free to read all the Animorph and Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark books that I want.  (Kidding...I just said I wasn't a child.)

8. Sneak into Movies
   Just because I am supposed to be a grown up, keeping myself well-kempt and well-dressed, doesn't mean that the audacious movie prices in The Woodlands are okay.  Over $10 for a Friday night movie ticket?  Would you like my firstborn child as well?  If you're making me pay $7 for a matinee to see the awful movie Priest, you better believe my friends and I are going to sneak into a few other movies, 7th grade-style.  Tip: Be confident... act like you know what you're doing and no one will ask questions.  (Yes, I just gave a tip on how to sneak into a movie theater...this is happening...)

9. Come Up With a New Catch-Phrase
   Sadly, I can't take full credit for this.  Janisch and I were hanging by the pool one day and we came up with a slightly uncreative but effective catch phrase: "slide."  You can use it at any point in any conversation.  Examples: 1) Hey what time do you want me to slide over? 2) I can slide with that. 3) We're just sliding right now. (If you can't tell, I'm slowly sliding into insanity.)

10. Plan a Cross Country Road Trip
   It's in the early stages, but it's gonnnnna happen. 

I hope everyone's summers are off to a good start.  Good luck as you may be beginning the next stage of your life.  And thank you for spending a few minutes inside my frenzied mind.

-PB