Amazing

Ever since my best friend Ryan* met his now wife Holly, my other best friend Josh and I have had a code for saying that a girl was marriage material.

After Ryan and Holly had been dating for a little while, he mentioned to us how she was amaaaaaazing. He might as well have been exhaling while he said it because we could just tell he was gone. He may not have told her he loved her for a bit after that and he may not have even known he did at the time, but it was pretty clear his heart was wrapped up in all things Holly.

So now, whenever we hear that one of us is seeing someone, we always ask the question:

But is she amaaaaazing?

More often than not, the answer comes back with a no. Since neither of us are in a relationship with marriage potential, I guess it's more than "more often than not." But it helps give us a guideline to go by. We could see the look in Ryan's eye, so now we actually know what it looks like. Artwork is much easier with a template as a guide.

As we get older and our friends have their own families with wives and kids and mortgages, it becomes more glaringly obvious that we don't have those things. I always thought once one of us got married, there would be palpable pressure on the other two. While it has been a learning experience at times adjusting to someone who has a different set of priorities now, it's also been much easier than previously thought to simply include Holly into our activities. And we've been blessed by her presence. Ryan knew what he was talking about. She is amazing.

But if ever there are times when there is a little pressure, maybe from parents or other friends, it helps to have someone in the same boat. A couple nights ago, we were talking about the difference between the ladies we normally go after versus the ones who'd be best for us. I mentioned how we shouldn't go into any situation knowing something would have to change for it to work out. Compatibility is hard enough without adding elements to the obstacle course.

It's easier to find a rose in a rose garden than in the desert. And if you look in the right place, who knows...might even find and amazing one.


*Ryan and Holly happen to be in Lebanon right now, doing some great things for a wonderful organization. No matter where they go next, I'm sure they'll leave their marks.

The Happiest Time of Year

Normally, I'm a huge sucker for Christmas. It's always been my favorite time of year and Christmas Eve has consistently been perched atop my rankings for favorite day of the year. What began as a youthful infatuation with getting presents has evolved into a love of the time and atmosphere.

It's not the gifts that you remember years later, it's the way the Christmas tree smelled as you brought it into the house. Or how you nervously looked out the side mirror, praying that you wouldn't see an arbor silhouette cascading down the side of the car, backlit by the bokeh headlights of the cars behind you.

When we think back, it's all about the senses we felt, not the stuff we got.

Unfortunately, this year is being dominated by some pretty overwhelming feelings. It was a pretty tough year for me personally and it seems to be going out with a bang, crippling my mother's boyfriend along the way.

Being happy around this time wasn't a task growing up; it just was. This year it's been a hike. Long, slow and painful.

Strong Cup of Coffee

Second-year San Francisco 49ers running back Glen Coffee retired yesterday.

Now, taken at face value, it's probably a little startling but not incredibly so. After all, the average career span of an NFL running back is 1.5 years, 3.5 years when all positions are factored into the equation. Anyone who's played football has had to retire at some point in their lives. I retired about five years ago.

Even Brett Favre will have to retire at some point.

What makes Coffee's retirement so shocking -- aside from the fact that he was the main back-up to an oft-injured player on a team projected to win somewhere around 10 games this season -- is his reasoning for walking away.

It wasn't what God wanted.

From all that I've read about him coming out of Alabama and now in the pros, Coffee is a deeply spiritual man who listens to his conscience. He listens to the Lord.

How many times have we all known in our hearts what He wanted for us, what He wanted us to do, and have chosen to instead do what we want. Sure, He puts things on our hearts, but there are times when our desires don't match His.

Here's a Q&A where he explains his rationale behind his decision.

I wouldn't be surprised if some fans and members of the media pan Coffee for being selfish and not thinking about his teammates, but until you walk with Him, you can't understand a decision like this.

Even if they do come, something tells me Coffee wouldn't care too much about that. He lives for the eternal; who cares what people say?

Sweet Mama Jamba

This week has been crazy at work... and it only gets worse from here, till about September 14th, anyway.

Dear Mr. Body Odor

Dear Mr. B.O.,

Let's call you Bo for short. I've been trying hard to avoid saying anything about this, so please excuse the length at which I'm going to go into this. Alas, sir, you've given me no choice.

I'm a big Seinfeld fan, but whenever I'd watch the episode where Jerry's valet has such bad body odor that it envelops Jerry's car to the point where he'd just give it away, I'd have a disconnect. I could never fully understand that scenario. Until now.

Let me just say that I love your work ethic. Whether I go in the morning or at night, it seems like you're there, about to put in some work. It may be that level of work, however, that has given you the strongest body odor I've ever smelled in my entire life. It is beyond b.o.

It overwhelms me.
Overpowers me.
It makes me want to stop working out, literally. I want to just stop what I'm doing and walk out of the building so that I can get some air. In those moments, I'll do anything to get some relief.

Honestly, I don't understand how others can be near you, Bo. I see you talking to them and I wonder whether or not their oflactory receptors are malfunctioning. I assure you that mine are not, sir. So please, PLEASE(!) put on some deodorant so that you can, you know, not smell like a Turkish sewer.

Thanks.

Your's Truly,
Sean

Under Construction

Too often these days I stare at this screen, trying to think of something to say, and coming away with nothing but a cursor blinking away at me. Taunting me, like it knows I've got nothin'.

I've wanted to get back int o being better, if only to do something consistent away from going in to work and trying to keep from being overwhelmed by some guy's body odor while I sweat through my tattered, old shirts at the gym. (Seriously, same guy every time. People are always around him, chatting him up, too. I have no clue how they haven't been quarantined due to exposure yet.)

I know that for my own wellbeing, I need to -- Who else will make fun of Brett Favre? -- but for some reason, it's harder than just saying "Ok, let's' do it."

I'm not sure what to call it. Writer's block seems like too cliche an explanation, although it could very well be the truth. While rationalizing the fact that I don't have internet access at home would be handy, I know of ways to circumvent that. I just haven't done it too often.

I guess that's the preparation for saying this whole writing again thing seems to be more of a work in progress thing than I'd like. But it's getting better. I mean, right now. I'm writing, see? So that's a start. And then tomorrow, hope fully I'll write. Then Monday. And so on and so forth.

After all, I do have some subject matter. Like the horrible (horrible) drivers in Chicago. Or the aforementioned, supremely stinky gym rat. Or the old love life. Or the start of what could be my next "step." All good material. Maybe in the coming days, I'll get into a few of them. Until then, I guess just settle for the fact that I'm working on it...and am almost there.

Take that, cursor, you smug bastard.

Ok...

Salma Hayek is on Jimmy Fallon right now.

DEFinitely still on the list...

Kindness Counts

It's safe to say that I'd envisioned my life looking a bit different
at this moment when I was younger. To be sure, I've got some work to
do to get to that point.

Sometimes it gets to me, but I'm reminded by my family and friends
(seemingly always at the perfect time) that the story isn't ever
completely told halfway through the novel. The climax never comes at
the beginning of the story. Big-picture stuff, this IS early.
Sometimes I forget that. It does me good to hear that.

I'm thankful to those who help with kind words. I need more of that in
my life.

Getting That Old Thang Back

So...

I originally thought I'd just come back and spill my guts, be as honest as possible and just open up. While I have no problem with doing that, I'm not sure how I feel about putting things on a forum as public as this. So I'll paraphrase and if anyone has any questions, I'm definitely able to discuss via email, phone or telegraph.

- My current work schedule has more to do with my not writing than anything else, as I go from 10-7 and don't really feel like being around a computer after spending my entire day staring at one.

- Turning 28 (yikes!) has intensified the whatintheworldamidoingwithmylife!? inner monologue. I don't like to sound like a broken record, so I haven't written about such things.

- The age thing has also increased my desire to patch up the holes in the holes in ship, to put more than a band-aid on the old wounds. It's made me want to seek genuine healing, which is something with which I'm not incredibly familiar. I should have a relatively large update on that front within the next week or so.

So yes. I'm moving in the right direction with some things and figuring out how to move in the right direction with some other things.

No more "365" but I'll still try to be as consistent as I can. I just ask for some patience and understanding if I'm not.

Where I've Been

Well, not here. I'll elaborate more in just a little bit.

BRB.

An excerpt

The sun was particularly mean that day. On second thought, it could have been the humidity. The air was so thick, I could feel my body ready to drip with every movement I made. Seemed like she could feel it too. I looked over at her perfect face, the one with the kind eyes that would dance like fireflies in an autumn dusk and the lips that seemed to ooze nectar they were so sweet. There were a few tiny beads of sweat forming on her forehead, just between her eyebrows, despite the fact that we were just sitting and watching the wind turn the thickly covered hillside into waves of color. I took my thumb and gently cast the perspiration aside. She thanked me and the wind blew her hair over her face. As she pulled it away, I leaned in closer and saw sparks in her eyes. My lips pressed against hers and I saw them too.

Who Dat!?

Congrats to the Saints for getting the job done in Super Bowl XLIV.
I'll write more about it tomorrow, but they kept fighting and bent but
didn't break against the best QB of the time, Peyton Manning. Well
done guys. Let's hope this success will spur further recovery from
Hurricane Katrina. Entire blocks are still vacant.

Let's fill them up.

Sent from my iPhone

The Peacock vs. The Rooster

For years I've been a fan of NBC programming.

Before I even knew what it was, I was watching its shows. Over the
years, it's given me Frasier and Friends, The Office and 30 Rock; not
to mention SNL and my favorite comedy series of all time, Seinfeld. To
be sure, I've loved watching it.

My most "meaningful" show, though would have to be Late Night with
Conan O'Brien. It was by far my favorite talk show and was the viewing
material for many a late-night 203 sighting. It was Conan's hop that
we mimmicked, his string dance that we laughed at, his stupid skits
that we joked about the next day.

So you can imagine my joy when I heard he was taking over The Tonight
Show for the unfunny 'comedian' known as Jay Leno. Not only would he
get more coverage, but it wouldn't be so late, which is always a plus.
I stay up late; I shouldn't feel like I have to.

Then came the news on Monday that because Leno's show stunk so bad,
the clever execs decided to move him back to 11:35 and try to bump
Conan to 12:05. How is it The Tonight Show if it comes on the next
day? It's automatically invalid. It's bad enough that Jay couldn't
just leave on the terms by which he'd agreed so they felt the need to
undercut Conan and give him his own show.

Now they're doing it again. They are idiots, these NBC executives. So
afraid to let go of their old, tired horse, their mismanagement of the
situation has cost them their thoroughbred.

Conan is more likely than not to be leaving to who knows where. The
only thing I know is that whatever channel he winds up on, I'll be
there to watch. Because what NBC failed to realize was that it's not
the person pulling the trigger that makes a gun so dangerous, it's the
bullet within the gun. How are they going to do any damage shooting
with blanks?

Heat Wave

Back when it was starting to get chilly (or consistently into the
40s), one of my coworkers told me the day would come when I prayed for
40 degrees.

I laughed it off, knowing how cold it was going to get, but also
holding the mindset that I could get through it without that much of a
problem.

Now, 17 straight days of sub-freezing temps completed, I can
understand what my coworker was talking about.

It's supposed to be 35 degrees in a couple days and I'm pretty
excited. Honestly, I'm just fired up at the potential that the ice on
my winshield wipers might finally melt.

Pere et Roi

Dear Father,

How have you been? It feels like forever since I wrote you; I'm sorry for that. On the bright side, we've still been talking just as much as before. I hope You think that's more important than whether or not I write you letters on my blog. I think it is, so I feel good about that. These last couple of years have been so strange, haven't they? Well, they probably aren't to You. I mean, You know the end of the story, so You know why everything had to happen the way it did whereas I'm still trying to figure it out. I love jigsaw puzzles -- especially the big, difficult ones -- but this has been stumping me. I know You know better than I do, though, so don't worry. I'm still trusting You.

Since this is still the beginning of this year, I just thought I'd write and ask you for one thing here, maybe a few others in private. Please help me to become the man You want me to be. I know a lot of that is up to me too and I'm working on that. But I also know that You can move mountains and change climates and affect things like no other, so I just thought I'd ask you for some help too. I know they aren't the same, but still. You know me. :)

So yes, that is all. I hope Your year is wonderful as well. I'll make sure I can do whatever I can to help make it a good one.