I'm from the city in the Midwest best city in the whole wide wide world

I've started typing this blog and deleted it three times already this morning.

Make that four.

I hate trying to force a blog.

I had a lot on my mind yesterday while driving home. I spent nine days in Indiana around Christmas, the most time I've spent there since I moved. In one of my earlier deletions, I had started it with "I spent nine days at home..." and now I typed "...while driving home [to Tennessee]" without thinking.

There's a scene in Garden State where they discuss what home is that describes everything that was on my mind yesterday, and still is today:

Andrew: You know that point in your life when you realize the house you grew up in isn't really your home anymore? All of a sudden even though you have some place where you put your shit, that idea of home is gone.
Sam: I still feel at home in my house.
Andrew: You'll see one day when you move out it just sort of happens one day and it's gone. You feel like you can never get it back. It's like you feel homesick for a place that doesn't even exist. Maybe it's like this rite of passage, you know. You won't ever have this feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, you know, for your kids, for the family you start; it's like a cycle or something. I don't know, but I miss the idea of it, you know. Maybe that's all family really is: a group of people that miss the same imaginary place.

I lived in my parents home for more than 23 years before I moved to Tennessee. This past week was probably the most normal time back I’ve had since I moved. I’ve made trips home for no reason, trips home for funerals, and trips home for holidays in the past 29 months, but none were as normal, and great, as this last trip home.

Much of it has to do with our family having the best Christmas we’ve had in several years. Four years ago, my Grandpa Moles was beginning to decline and had finally let on how sick he was. Three years ago, he passed away three days before Christmas, making the holiday a very somber occasion. Two years ago, I had to work every day around Christmas and didn’t get to spend much time with family, or truly appreciate that time because I was so tired. Last year, my sister was overseas and my Grandpa Bennett wasn’t doing very well (he died weeks later).
Our family has changed dramatically in the past three years. My parents went from having two sons at home and a daughter away at college to two sons living in Tennessee and a daughter who has decided to permanently stay in her college town. We have gone from three living grandparents to only one. My Aunt’s husband (now ex) decided to leave her suddenly and she is still healing from those wounds.

Some of my fondest memories come from Christmases and Thanksgivings where we had too many people to fit in one room for dinner, when opening presents took the entire morning because we’d watch each person open one gift at a time with 13 or 14 people in the circle, and when we’d watch Christmas Vacation (having to fast-forward through the pool dream sequence until we were old enough) or Dumb & Dumber after dinner.

This Christmas, though, I think we all came together under the same umbrella of missing that imaginary place we used to know and love. We’ve all finally accepted (so some point) the idea that though our close family may be smaller, there is still as much love and joy and caring as there was before.

I will forever hold onto the idea of home and that idea(l) will always live in Terre Haute, Indiana.

I’m going home again this weekend to spend more time with friends during New Years and also to see my beloved Indiana State Sycamores play three games. I’m quickly realizing how precious the days are under my imaginary umbrella.

I wanna watch Garden State.

I forgot a title. Eff it.

1. Jay-Z is the absolute coolest man on earth. After seeing him Friday, there is no doubt in my mind that is has become fact. Zack Morris could probably give him a run for this money, but I'm just not sure "Friends Forever" creates the same energy that "99 Problems" does.

2. John Mayer's new album "Battle Studies" released today. It's very good. I've been listening for over a week now (he leaked it on the radio last Monday) and am impressed with where he went with the album, but only blown away by a couple tracks. He's playing an album release show in NYC tonight and it's being shown live on Fuse, so I'm very excited to both see a John Mayer show and hear the live versions of the new tracks.

3. Boyz II Men also released a new album today. It's a series of cover songs dealing with love and from what I heard it sounds very good. Their "Open Arms" (Journey) cover is spectacular.

4. Boyz II Men and John Mayer are probably the only two artists that I actually buy the physical cd when it comes out. I think I've missed one Boyz II Men album (Throwback) but I have almost everything else they've ever released. I think it shows a certain sense of dedication when you buy the physical cd. It says, "I'm only going to look at that cd case right after I buy it, but I'm willing to make room for it for the next 27 years. I'm willing to do that for you."

5. The Colts v. Patriots game on Sunday was probably the most exciting football game I've seen since the Colts v. Bucs game in 2003 (Colts won in OT after being down 35-14 with 4 minutes left). I'm probably biased since the Colts won both of those games, but I think most would agree these two games are two of the best comebacks of all-time. And any time Bill Belichick can look like even more of a tool in his cut-off hoodie, I'm for it.

6. I need to take more time to blog. It seems like I start, stop, and delete more posts than those that actually are published. I read 10 or 12 blogs regularly and enjoy reading them, so why shouldn't I try to provide that same enjoyment to others? And I'm sure I'm overwhelmingly more entertaining than the blogs I read, so it's almost a disservice to the world if I don't blog.

7. Spellcheck is telling me I spelled "Boyz" incorrectly. What do they know?

8. Eight is enough for today. I'm gone.

9. P.S. Go check out "Edge of Desire" by Mayer on YouTube. I'd say it's his finest album song yet. Then buy the album.

A Game for All America - by Ernie Harwell

Baseball is President Eisenhower tossing out the first ball of the season; and a pudgy schoolboy playing catch with his dad on a Mississippi farm. Its the big league pitcher who sins in night clubs. And the Hollywood singer who pitches to the Giants in spring training.

A tall, thin old man waving a scorecard from his dugout -- that's baseball. So is the big, fat guy with a bulbous nose running out one of his 714 home runs with mincing steps.

It's America, this baseball. A re-issued newsreel of boyhood dreams. Dreams lost somewhere between boy and man. It's the Bronx cheer and the Baltimore farewell. The left-field screen in Boston, the right-field dump at Nashville's Sulphur Dell, the open stands in San Francisco, the dusty, wind-swept diamond at Albuquerque. And a rock home plate and a chicken wire backstop -- anywhere.

There's a man in Mobile who remembers a triple he saw Honus Wagner hit in Pittsburgh 46 years ago. That's baseball. So is the scout reporting that a 16-year-old sandlot pitcher in Cheyenne is the new "Walter Johnson."

It's a wizened little man shouting insults from the safety of his bleacher seat. And a big, smiling first baseman playfully tousling the hair of a youngster outside the players' gate.

Baseball is a spirited race of man against man, reflex against reflex. A game of inches. Every skill is measured. Every heroic, every failing is, seen and cheered -- or booed. And then becomes a statistic. In baseball, democracy shines its clearest. Here the only race that matters is the race to the bag. The creed is the rule book. Color is something to distinguish one team's uniform from another.

Baseball is Sir Alexander Fleming, discoverer of penicillin, asking his Brooklyn hosts to explain Dodger signals. It's player Moe Berg speaking seven languages and working crossword puzzles in Sanskrit. It's a scramble in the box seats for a foul -- and a $125 suit ruined. A man barking into a hot microphone about a cool beer, that's baseball. So is the sportswriter telling a .383 hitter how to stride, and a 20-victory pitcher trying to write his impressions of the World Series.

Baseball is a ballet without music. Drama without words. A carnival without kewpie dolls.
A housewife in California couldn't tell you the color of her husband's eyes, but she knows that Yogi Berra is hitting .337, has brown eyes and used to love to eat bananas with mustard. That's baseball. So is the bright sanctity of Cooperstown's Hall of Fame. And the former big leaguer who is playing out the string in a Class B loop.

Baseball is continuity. Pitch to pitch. Inning to inning. Game to game. Series to series. Season to season. It's rain, rain, rain splattering on a puddled tarpaulin as thousands sit in damp disappointment. And the click of typewriters and telegraph keys in the press box -- like so many awakened crickets. Baseball is a cocky batboy. The old-timer whose batting average increases every time he tells it. A lady celebrating a home team rally by mauling her husband with a rolled-up scorecard.

Baseball is the cool, clear eyes of Rogers Hornsby, the flashing spikes of Ty Cobb, an overaged pixie named Rabbit Maranville, and Jackie Robinson testifying before a Congressional hearing.
Baseball? It's just a game -- as simple as a ball and a bat. Yet, as complex as the American spirit it symbolizes. It's a sport, business -- and sometimes even religion.

Baseball is Tradition in flannel knickerbockers. And Chagrin in being picked off base. It is Dignity in the blue serge of an umpire running the game by rule of thumb. It is Humor, holding its sides when an errant puppy eludes two groundskeepers and the fastest outfielder. And Pathos, dragging itself off the field after being knocked from the box.

Nicknames are baseball. Names like Zeke and Pie and Kiki and Home Run and Cracker and Dizzy and Dazzy.

Baseball is a sweaty, steaming dressing room where hopes and feelings are as naked as the men themselves. It's a dugout with spike-scarred flooring. And shadows across an empty ballpark. It's the endless list of names in box scores, abbreviated almost beyond recognition.

The holdout is baseball, too. He wants 55 grand or he won't turn a muscle. But, it's also the youngster who hitch-hikes from South Dakota to Florida just for a tryout.

Arguments, Casey at the Bat, old cigarette cards, photographs, Take Me Out to the Ball Game -- all of them are baseball.

Baseball is a rookie -- his experience no bigger than the lump in his throat -- trying to begin fulfillment of a dream. It's a veteran, too -- a tired old man of 35, hoping his aching muscles can drag him through another sweltering August and September.

For nine innings, baseball is the story of David and Goliath, of Samson, Cinderella, Paul Bunyan, Homer's Iliad and the Count of Monte Cristo.

Willie Mays making a brilliant World Series catch. And then going home to Harlem to play stick-ball in the street with his teen-age pals -- that's baseball.

And so is the husky voice of a doomed Lou Gehrig saying, "I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of this earth."

Baseball is cigar smoke, hot-roasted peanuts, The Sporting News, winter trades, "Down in Front," and the "Seventh-Inning Stretch." Sore arms, broken bats, a no-hitter, and the strains of the Star-Spangled Banner.

Baseball is a highly paid Brooklyn catcher telling the nation's business leaders: "You have to be a man to be a big leaguer, but you have to have a lot of little boy in you, too."

This is a game for America, this baseball!

Never will we forget...

I've spent all day today reading Twitter and Facebook, seeing everyone remember, and also never forget, the events of September 11, 2001. Being able to have access to celebrities and influentials on Twitter has provided a new light on those who we often forget are human. Being able to see that Bill Simmons (my favorite sports writer) had the same emotions on the days following 9/11 and used the same outlets to help ease his pain is very comforting. Being able to share with him, and hundreds of thousands of others, videos of David Letterman's and Jon Stewart's opening monologues from their first shows back helps ease the pain that still lingers eight years later.

Being able to interact with friends and see their memories, 140 characters at a time, is also great. Seeing the pride that still builds in those from New York and the love that still lingers from those who have visited is amazing. Being able to ask one another where they were on that day, what they remember, and what they'll never forget is something we might not have been able to do just a handful of years ago.

As a child, and still to this day, I can hear my Dad telling us about when he first found out that JFK had been killed. One of his classmates had left school during lunch to buy thread for a sewing class and found out. I've heard that story at least fifty times in the course of my life. It used to drive me crazy because it seemed like he told the same people the same story over and over.

I realized today that it doesn't drive me crazy anymore. I'm sure I'll tell my children every year on September 11 where I was, what I was wearing, what my thoughts were, and what I did the rest of the day. I think I wrote about it several years ago in my former blog on MySpace, but I haven't shared in a few years. Here is my story...

I was a freshman in college in 2001. The 11th of September fell on a Tuesday, so I had World History at 9:30am and Psychology at 2:00pm. These were two classes I almost never skipped, so sleeping through my alarm until 9:25 was odd for me. I woke up angry at myself since I slept too late to get ready and make it to class, but also ready to enjoy my free time for the next four and one half hours. I put on my middle school Peer Modeling Team (Every 8th grade guy wants a shirt that says PMT in huge letters across the back) and black basketball shorts, brushed my teeth, and went downstairs.

I turned on the television and tuned into ESPN for what I thought would be my first daily dose of Sportscenter. The scene I immediately saw was the New York harbor with a huge smoke trail rising from the buildings. The breaking news headline read something about two planes crashing into the tower. Moments later, the first tower collapsed. I didn't stop watching TV until I went to class at 2:00.

Class only lasted a few minutes, I don't know why I even went, and I drove to my grandma's house since my aunt was in town. We continued to watch the news reports with new video surfacing as the day progressed. We still didn't know what had happened yet, so we discussed what the possible scenario might be. From that point on, my memory is fuzzy.

My first memory of beginning to feel better about the situation at hand is watching the St. Louis Cardinals game on baseball's first day back after the 11th. Jack Buck read a poem which he had written and then, crippled from a stroke, with tears in his eyes, he muttered the words, "Should we be here? Yes." I can still hear him say those words to this day. They will forever comfort me.

Slowly, but surely, our country began to heal. Our television shows returned, our sports teams returned to action, and our lives became normal again. I wish there wasn't a day each year where we were reminded of those who lose their lives so innocently, but I'm so grateful there is a day for us to always remember them, as well. It doesn't seem like eight years ago to me, mostly because life flies by quicker than we realize, but also because that day alone seemingly last eight years.

Always we remember,
B

Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things.

It has almost become a tradition of sorts, an unofficial tradition. On September 11th, I read the blog post that John Mayer wrote just days after the tragedy occurred in New York on that memorable day in 2001. I read it and feel a sense of power and pride. I read it and almost feel a sense of arrogance because I am a United States citizen.

I shouldn't have those feelings, regardless what the circumstances have brought upon my country or my personal being. I try to show loving kindness through all of my thoughts and actions, but sadly that is not the reality of who I am. I try to believe that no man or woman is greater than any other, yet I constantly catch myself judging others for their actions and believing that my way of doing things is better.

In the days following September 11th, we were a country united under an umbrella of fear, hostility, sadness, liberty, and an unknown future. We understood that we truly, and always have and forever will, had more in common than that which divides us. We raised our country's flag in honor of those we lost and those who work to protect our rights and freedoms.

Where have those days gone?

I write this on September 10th with a sense of sadness for the country I live in and its people. We have become so consumed in our own lives, beliefs, opinions, and possessions that we refuse to listen to the world around us. I don't have the answers to fixing the big problems we face, but I hope I am able to do my best where I can. I hope I am able to help my fellow countrymen if they should need it.

I hope...

And no good thing ever dies,
B

In His Words: Part 3

I've been thinking a lot over the past several weeks about what I continue to work with youth. I wasn't questioning my reasons because I am looking for a reason to stop, I just wanted a good reason. Having not found a reason that sounded reverent enough for my liking, I soon found my reasons in the words of an unlikely source, Allen Iverson:

[He] was talking about people acknowledging me for things I do; I don’t need people to praise me for that. I don’t need people to praise me for that. You know, God know what I do and the person that I do it for, they know, and that’s the only thing that matters. I ain’t trying to win no popularity contest. When you somebody popular, you gotta have tough skin cause you never gonna be perfect to everybody. You never gonna be able to satisfy everybody. All you supposed to concentrate on is the people that love you and care about you. I think it brings joy out of people to knock people down. Don’t nobody care about what AI does for the community. The story is when AI does something that they think is wrong. That’s the big story. That’s the story everybody want to read. And as bad as it is, that’s the way it is. It’s an evil world. I just want kids, and adults, to just learn from my experience and know that it don’t matter what you do, how good you do, how many peoples lives you touch, how many good things you do, you know, people still gonna still throw shots at you. And it’s something you gotta take. You gotta learn how to have thick skin and I’d be lying if I said those things didn’t hurt, cause they still hurt. I’m 34 years old. People been throwing shots at me since the first time I went to jail and it never stopped. I never got used to it, but I’m just better now. It don’t hurt as much, but it still hurt. But those guys being up there and knowing that I had an impact on their life and they can say that I had an impact on their life: that’s everything to me. And not just one person that I touched, it was two. And hopefully I can continue to touch more lives.

Amen.

Video of this moving speech can be seen here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zYmObmEY6cY

Tear me apart

A friend of mine posted a note on Facebook today that she actually wrote. It wasn't a quiz or a forwarded survey, it was a handful of thoughtful, caring paragraphs. It also happened to be about baseball and her love for the game. It was very well written and a breath of fresh air amongst the filler that has become Facebook.

I'm recovering from a sinus infection that has put me down for better than a week now. I went to Youth Fellowship last night and tossed the frisbee around with some of the kids. I had no idea how tired I still was until I got out there. Other than one trip to the grocery and two days at work, it was the first thing I'd done besides lay on the couch since last Friday. I'll be glad when my lingering cough goes away.

Nitro Circus is my new "favorite" tv show. It's kind of America's Funniest Home Videos meets Thrills & Spills meets Jackass, only better. It's hard to comprehend the talent in the group on that show with their actions, but it's there. If you haven't seen it, I recommend it. And thankfully Comcast as it OnDemand free (in HD no less) so I can avoid the ignorant MTV commercials. Thankfully now that Making the Band 4 has come to an end, my MTV intake will be minute.

Let's make a note that the Moles' family had an original America's Funniest Home Videos towel featuring cartoon characters of some of the funniest original clips. Our grandpa got it for us and I'd guess it caused a fight or three around the house.

My sister returns home in two months from her almost-year-long stint in East Asia. Jeff and I both got a couple days off work after the weekend she gets back, which also happens to be Father's Day weekend, and we're both very excited to see her and also spend time with the entire family for a few days. The five of us haven't been together since a couple weeks before she left in September. It will be nice to have everyone in the same room again during those short three or four days. As you get older, you depend less on your family in many ways, but depend on them even more in ways you never knew you would while growing up.

Before I moved to Nashville, I worked 10ish-5ish five days a week and could take off almost whenever I wanted. Leaving at 3 a few afternoons a week was normal during our slow season. Being on hourly pay, this was not conducive to my bank account, but to my lazy-self it was the best thing ever. Having now put in a year working too many hours a week in retail and now almost six months at a desk job, I continually work for the weekend. I am so grateful to have a position that allows me to work 37 hours a week and get time off when I need it. Finding this job during the midst of an economical crisis is probably more of a blessing than I realize.

I am completely sucked into the NBA playoffs. I have watched at least part of almost every game that has been on cable thus far, partly because I was sick and did nothing but watch tv for a week and partly because the game is so great right now. I don't know if this kind of stat has ever been looked at, but without any knowledge of previous years playoffs point guard classes, I'd make the argument that this year's class is the best of all time. Chauncey Billups, Tony Parker, Aaron Brooks, Steve Blake, Jason Kidd, Chris Paul, Deron Williams, Mo Williams, Rajon Rondo, Rafer Alston (should be Jameer Nelson), Mike Bibby, Mario Chalmers, Derrick Rose, Andre Miller, Derek Fisher, and Rodney Stuckey would have to be the most complete point guard lineup ever to grace the NBA playoffs. And keep in mind Steve Nash, who's great but overrated, didn't make the playoffs.

Besides the point guards, you've still got Kobe, LeBron, D-Wade, Superman, Jesus Shuttlesworth, Paul Pierce, Carlos Boozer, Tim Duncan, Yao, Brandon Roy, David West, Dirk, Ben Gordon, Joe Johnson, Andre Iguodala, and Rip Hamilton gracing the court.

You're not impressed that I could name every starting playoff point guard, but I am. I've said it many times and I'll say it again, the NBA is the best it's been since Jordan, Bird, and Magic. Take advantage of the opportunity before you to watch these guys. Kobe, LeBron, Dwight Howard, Tim Duncan, Chris Paul, and D-Wade will go down as some of the greatest players to ever play the game. And of those seven, Duncan is the old man of the group at 33 years old (Howard and Paul are only 23, LeBron is only 24).

One last NBA note: Jeff asked yesterday when the playoffs end because he's already sick of watching. Hopefully the middle of June isn't too far away for him. I guess he'll just have to countdown to Sarah getting home while I countdown to a championship.

I should get back to work now. I think I'm going to the Sounds (AAA Brewers affiliate) game tonight with some friends. My Iowa Cubs are in town. I'll feel kinda bad rooting against the home team until I see my boys in blue take the field.

Tear me apart?

Tear me apart 'cause this is the start of a new beginning

Open my eyes and cut through the lies that I tell myself

-Jon Hainstock "Tear Me Apart"

Today, I'm just a little bit cooler than you.

I'm 26 today.  That sounds old as crap to me.  Not because it is, but because I'm closer to 30 than I am to 20.  30 sounds light years away yet it will be here before I realize it.

I turn 26 with a great love for the life I live and for the people I am so fortunate to share it with.  I turn 26 with a heavy heart; a heart that aches for the family of a 22 year old I have never met, nor did I know his name until Wednesday night.  I turn 26 with a sense of pride in the way I have been taught and have chosen to lead my life.  I turn 26 knowing that I will have hundreds, if not thousands, of Facebook notifications when I check tomorrow morning.

That'd be the best present ever.  A little red flag at the bottom of my Facebook home page with tiny white numbers reading, "724."

I hope all of you who read this are doing well.  I hope you are all in good spirits and good health.  I am truly blessed and I thank you for sharing your lives with me; it means the world to me.  Thank you and good night.

Happy Birthday to me,

B

Say it ain't so...

It's tragically ironic that Nick Adenhart played for the Angels.  As someone who is very attached to the greatest game ever played, I feel pain for those who mourn and grieve the loss of a son, a friend, and a teammate.  There are very few days when baseball is not fun; today is one of those days.

Here are longtime Dodgers radio announcer Vin Scully's words.  I don't think it could be put any better:

If I may speak for every member of the Dodger organization, our heartfelt and deepest sympathies to the mother and family of Nick Adenhart, and to every member in the Angels organization, for the untimely accident and death of young Nick last night at the tender age of twenty-two. Nick, from Maryland, had pitched six scoreless innings and was in a car with three friends, and a driver apparently went through a red light and T-boned the car, killing three of the four, including Nick, and one other member is in critical condition. And if there is one thing I’ve learned in all my years — and I haven’t learned much — but the one thing I’ve learned: Don’t even waste your time trying to figure out life.

Ground ball through for Andre Ethier, and life continues for those who still have it. And with a leadoff single, Russell Martin will be coming up.

But I would say, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to take a moment and say a prayer in memory for Nick, especially for his parents. What a shock to lose a twenty-two-year-old.

Andre Ethier at first base, Russell Martin the batter, James Loney on deck, and the Dodgers try to strike in the second inning against Kevin Correia...

I'd like to think I'm capable of doing things bigger than me

Tonight at our youth group meeting, we watched a film titled Peace One Day. It is about a man who took it upon himself to run with the idea of a worldwide cease-fire for one day each year. He met with numerous world leaders to discuss his idea and film their thoughts, to be used for promotion of the day of peace and also to show other world leaders. After meeting with the leaders and getting their blessings, Kofi Annan, then UN Secretary General, was set to announce, on behalf of the UN, a day of world peace. The announcement was set to take place outside the UN building in New York City on September 11, 2001.



Literally while a children's orchestra was playing before Annan was to make the announcement, the two planes struck the two towers of the World Trade Center. The film suddenly took a turn from a sense of accomplishment and excitement to fear and befuddlement. Watching the film at this point reminded me of a quote from John Mayer (surprise surprise) in the article he wrote to publicly declare his support for Barack Obama during last Fall's election.


Mayer writes, "I was 23 years old when the nation was attacked on September 11, 2001. I can remember hearing pundits say "this changes everything" and "things will never be the same." Obviously it was a tragic and traumatic event, but that sentiment has carried on through the better part of my twenties. If you were 43 years old on that day, I would imagine it was a difficult concept to get your head around as well, but if you were a young adult just entering his or her individual life, there was an added twist; how can you process the idea of everything changing and things never being the same when you have no point of reference for what "everything" and "the same" is? I was just beginning to put my hands on the world around me, to interact and engage with it, and to actualize the dream of being an adult in a free society. To wait in line for 23 years only to have the "sorry, future canceled" sign flipped in my face was depressing, to say the least."


This quote has to be almost exactly what Jeremy, the man who's dream was and is Peace One Day, was thinking on that morning of September 11th that we all recall so fondly. To have the dream of world peace, if only for one day, almost within reach only to have it snatched seemingly further away than ever must have been devastating. Obviously, our future wasn't cancelled literally, but the future we hoped for was certainly gone.


Jeremy continued with his efforts and September 21st of each year is now officially a worldwide Day of Peace, designated by the UN.


I am not anti-war and obviously not pro-war, as I realize it is sometimes a necessary evil, but the thought of mankind growing within itself to the point of being willing to lay down our weapons for one day is astounding. Keep in mind, no true cease-fires have taken place on this day, but it's the symbolism of it that fascinates me and hopefully several others. In 2003 alone, over 240,000,000 people worldwide celebrated this Day of Peace. I'd like to hope that come September 21st of this year that number will have grown dramatically.

A few things, mostly random, but certainly not 25

My favorite movies (in no order):
Remember the Titans
Braveheart
Super Troopers
Transformers
Saving Private Ryan
Dave Chappelle's Block Party
Love Actually
Field of Dreams
Dumb & Dumber
Saving Silverman
Garden State
You've Got Mail
The Shawshank Redemption

Movies I feel like I should have seen but haven't:
The Dark Knight
Good Will Hunting
The Godfather (any of them)
Caddyshack
Rudy
Raging Bull
Pulp Fiction
Scarface
The Karate Kid

Movies I don't understand peoples fascinations with:
Harry Potter (though I've only seen one and didn't really pay attention)
The Nightmare Before Christmas
The Princess Bride (funny, but not that funny)

Movies I used to watch one after another when I was sick:
Toy Story

Babe
________________________

The two signs that are most apparent to me that the economy sucks: 1. Halls is using one generic wrapper on all of their cough/sore throat/vitamin C drops. They used to have different wrappers for all of their products but now they're all in the gross yellow Halls wrapper that usually signals "gross cherry menthol flavor." 2. MLB free agents deserving of a roster spot on almost any team are not being signed. I took some time to put together a 25 man roster of free agents and compared them to the arguable worst team in the league, the Pittsburgh Pirates.

Here's what I came up with:

Free Agent Pittsburgh Pirates Advantage:
C Paul Lo Duca Ryan Doumit Pirates
1B Doug Mientkiewicz Adam LaRoche Pirates
2B Orlando Hudson Freddy Sanchez Free Agents
3B Joe Crede Andy LaRoche Push
SS Orlando Cabrera Jack Wilson Push
RF Ken Griffey Jr. Brandon Moss Push
CF Jim Edmonds Nate McLouth Pirates
LF Manny Ramirez Nyjer Morgan Free Agents
SP Ben Sheets Paul Maholm Free Agents
SP Livan Hernandez Zack Duke Push
SP Tom Glavine Ian Snell Push
SP Chuck James Jeff Karstens Free Agents
SP Mark Mulder Tom Gozelanny Pirates
RP Will Ohman John Grabow Pirates
RP Juan Cruz Tyler Yates Free Agents
RP Joe Beimel Craig Hansen Free Agents
RP Anbriorix Burgos Sean Burnett Free Agents
RP Dennys Reyes Jesse Chavez Free Agents
RP Julian Tavarez Matt Capps Pirates
B Garret Anderson Brian Bixler Free Agents
B Ivan Rodriguez Robinzon Diaz Free Agents
B Mark Grudzielanek Luis Cruz Free Agents
B Luis Gonzalez Steve Pearce Free Agents
B Jay Payton Ramon Vasquez Free Agents
B Miguel Cairo Eric Hinske Pirates

13 advantages for the Free Agent team, eight for the Pirates, and four ties. Keep in mind, this is my quick evaluation and I didn't match up players exactly how they would be on a depth chart, but it's pretty close. Also, the Pirates roster is filled with young, less-than-three-years service time players that make well under $1 million per year and the Free Agent team is full of veterans that all demand/require a salary of well over $3 million, so total payroll for these two teams would be remarkably different. But I think it's still very interesting to look at. Also, some of the veteran pitchers would need to be healthy, which most of them aren't right now, in order to actually be better than their younger, Pirate counterparts.

One more baseball thing: Everyone is wigging out lately over steroids in baseball. I agree, MLB is too far behind other sports concerning drug testing and penalties for positive tests. A-Rod coming out as a user surprised me as much as anyone, but he's still one of greatest players of all time. A lot of people who don't know the game will say he isn't because of the steroids. There's an easy way to prove those people wrong.

Any fairly fit, reasonably athletic person could do the following things if put in the situation: score a basket in an NBA game, score a touchdown in an NFL game or even catch or throw a completion in an NFL game. Any fairly fit, reasonably athletic person could not touch a Major League pitcher. I'll give you 100 pitches and you would not foul a pitch off. Unless you played college baseball, or the game at a higher level, you're not going to touch any current MLB pitcher unless they throw you a melon.

Hitting a Major League pitch is the hardest thing to do in sports. Some might argue hitting a hole-in-one in golf, but often times that's because of the chances of doing so are so small and has little to do with talent or ability. There are many other things that are very, very difficult, but hitting pitching in Major League Baseball consistently is the hardest of them all.

Now, go take steroids for a year and then try to do all of those things I mentioned earlier. You'd have an easier time playing a physical game like football and would be stronger on the basketball court, but they're still not going to help you but the bat on the ball.

I agree, taking steroids or other performance enhancing drugs is illegal and shouldn't go unpunished, but we should not take away anything that has been done in the past because of baseball, as an organizations, ignorance to their own problem. All of the statistics should count int he record books just as they do now; an asterisk is already next to those numbers in almost every one's head anyway, so what does a literal asterisk do to help the problem? I know I'll tell my children about baseball when I was growing up just like my father told me, so this era will not go forgotten.

Enjoy the opportunity to watch the players we have in the game today. Manny Ramirez is one of the top five pure hitters of all-time; Greg Maddux, Roger Clemens (as much as I hate him), Mariano Rivera, and Trevor Hoffman are four of the greatest pitchers of all-time; and Alex Rodriguez is the second best offensive player the game has ever seen (behind Babe Ruth).

Love the sporting world we live in if you enjoy sports. The NBA is the best it's been in 20+ years (I'm addicted suddenly), the NFL is as entertaining as ever, the NHL is...well, the NHL (Canada loves you), NASCAR, though it ruined its championship system, is filled with young and talented drivers, and if you aren't watching tennis, you should be. Rafa Nadal and Roger Federer are two of the best players ever; their rivalry, friendly as it is and should be, is something I wish will go on for years (and Federer wins every match in 5). Oh, two more words: Tiger Woods.

Pitchers and catchers report today!
B

We are one.

My America,

your America,

our America

is beautiful.

I must be butter

I'm making cilantro and lime marinated steak with either Trader Joes garlic fries or roasted potatoes. I'm finding my wanting to experiment more in the kitchen is costing me more money at the grocery, but I think it's worth it. My pork chops the other night were really good. I'm making rosemary pork loin on Saturday for a bunch of people who are coming over. I hope it's good.

I'm starting to feel like a woman always blogging about food. My brother got me a Tyler Florence cookbook, a strainer, and a peeler for Christmas. We already had a peeler, but it's the thought that counts; plus, this one is a lot nicer than the one someone had given us before I moved down here.

I think I like to cook good food because it makes both me and other people happy. It's kind of an instant reward competition type thing for me I guess. If I can make something really good, where I know it's good and other people like it, too, then I'm going to feel gratification for my efforts right away; almost a sense a of victory.

I recently purchased an XBOX 360 with NCAA Basketball '09 and a few other games. Having never really played any of this generations, or even lasts', gaming systems, I initially started the game on its easiest setting. I struggled at first to figure out the two joysticks and eight buttons, but got the hang of it after a few games and was quickly winning easily. Of course I picked Indiana State as my dynasty team, which was a good and a bad choice. It was good because I had a fairly easy schedule; it was bad because I had pretty bad players. Thankfully the ease of difficulty along with my ability to run the same play repeatedly made the game a lot easier than it really is. To make a long story short, I ran off 39 victories on my way to a perfect season and a National Title.

I decided I would start the next season on the medium difficulty level. My first couple games were against pretty good teams, but no one extraordinary. Keep in mind, at this point I was used to blowing everyone out by 20-30, and sometimes more, points in 26 minute games. My third game was against Syracuse at the Maui Invitational. Nothing I did in this game worked. They were the 12th ranked team, I think, and absolutely destroyed me. I ended up losing by 18 or 20. I constantly yelled at the television almost the entire game. I couldn't figure anything out to beat them or even chip into their lead. By the end of the game I was so mad I couldn't handle it. I had to put my mp3 player on and do the freaking dishes (which needed done anyways) to get my mind off it and cool off. My brother was ready to kill me at this point.

The moral of the story is I absolutely can not stand to lose. For example, I told a 16 year old I was going to punch him in the face if he didn't stop cheating during ultimate frisbee this summer. I would never punch a 16 year old in the face unless it were in self-defense or in defense of a friend or family member in trouble, let's make that very clear. That was just an example of my competitive drive.

So maybe this is why I like to cook. It's something I can gain a sense of reward and pride from without really doing anything. And my lack of physical ability has nothing to do with it. I can't imagine how bad I would be if I were in really good shape and had real talent at a sport I loved. Even if a sports team I rooted for were dynastically-victorious (that might be the coolest thing I've ever said), I'd be overly arrogant and annoying about them.

So why the crap am I a Cubs fan?

Good question. I gave a speech in college about why being a Cubs fan is the best thing in the world. It was in a sales class, so I had to pitch it to the class like a product. Most of them thought it was funny so they went along with it and I got an A. I think losing keeps me humble. If I were a Yankees fan or a Red Sox fan, I would definately be a different person that I am today. Watching my team lose year after year has made me a better person. I can't remember the other points of my speech, but that was the main one.

People from TN don't know what real cold is (says the kid from Indiana),
B

Too tired to sleep.

In church today, we reaffirmed our baptisms.  After the sermon (which was very good), the entire congregation stood, as they were able, and responded together to the traditional baptism ceremony questions.  Once we had affirmed our belief in God, Jesus the Christ, and the Holy Spirit, we were invited to the front of the church to touch the water in the baptismal font and, if we wished, touch or make the sign of the cross on our foreheads.

I must add here that for some reason I have always been very hesitant about things like this.  It's not that I don't want to do it, it's that I don't want to do it the wrong way.  Because I sit and watch each person before and after me do exactly what I just did, but in their own way, and then analyze it in my mind, I assume they are doing the same thing when I partake.  I know I shouldn't be this worried about others passing judgement on me, especially in church, but I am and always have been.

Watching those go before me this morning was different than any ceremony like this I've ever been apart of.  I've taken communion by intinction several times and been to many Ash Wednesday services or anointing, which are all performed in a similar fashion (the congregation goes to the front of the church and performs the act one by one, then returns to their seat).  This morning, it wasn't a rush to return to ones seat, after dipping a finger in the water, like it often seems.  This morning, it seemed like we really were all children being baptized.  Perhaps it was my own state of mind driving my perception, but it all seemed so calm and refreshing.

For the past 11 months, we've had a leak in the ceiling of our living room.  Our landlord has attempted to fix it on a few occasions to no avail.  About a month ago (it's been a long month), my brother and I returned home from work one rainy day to a constant stream of water coming from our ceiling and pooling about two feet from my sound system and television.  A few strategically placed trash cans and one harshly-toned e-mail later, we finally had real progress being done to fix the leak.  During this month, we've had many of the contents of our living room in our dining room in piles, which has made living in our apartment more difficult than normal.

This past week the holes the cut in our ceiling to find the source of the leak were filled and painted over.  Tomorrow morning, we're having our carpets cleaned.  By tomorrow night, I hope that our living room and dining room will be returned to their "normal" state.  We also had a new couch and chair delivered last week, so having new furniture amongst the mess only added to it.  Being able to arrange our furniture and set everything back in place tomorrow evening will probably take awhile, but it will be very rewarding to have our apartment back.

I spent most of the day Saturday at church helping to set-up for the youth group's carnival, silent auction, and talent show (all one large event) that were happening that evening.  It was a very long day spending more than nine hours at church, but a very fun day as well.  I have been working with the youth group here for almost a year now, but this weekend was the first event where I felt 100% comfortable with everything I was doing.  It takes a lot of time to get to know 20+ seventh through 12th graders.  This weekend was the first time I felt like I could ask any of them to help me, or any of the other leaders, and not feel uncomfortable doing so.

I hope this weekend stays fresh in my mind for many weekends to come.  It has been a very tiring weekend, but I'm almost too tired to sleep because of how excited I am for the days and weeks to come.  It has been a weekend where I've renewed my baptism and reaffirmed myself as a follower of God's only Son, Jesus.  It has been a weekend where I've (almost) got my apartment back and better than ever.  It has been a weekend where I've found a new church home here in Nashville.  I even genuinely rooted for Vanderbilt in their game against Tennessee today.

All of these thoughts come with a sense of guilt, like I'm turning my back on my church and youth group in Indiana and my Indiana State Sycamores, but if I don't realize that life moves on, I never will.  I love the youth I worked with in Indiana more than they know and I will come to love the youth I work with here more than they know, it comes with the territory.  I will always be a Sycamore and no one can ever take that from me.  And I will always be a Hoosier by birth, for the great state of Indiana is my home.

With those thoughts also comes great joy.  Two years ago I never would have fathomed moving away from home.  I am a better person for moving to Tennessee.  I am my own person because I moved to Tennessee.  I look forward for what's to come.  Thanks for reading.

-B

P.S. I'm reminded each year upon attending the Vandy/UT game that if, somehow, my children have southern accents, I will be giving them up for adoption.

I FORGOT TO ADD A TITLE!

I wore a sweater vest, for the first time, to work last week. My arms got so cold I had to go home and change into a sleeved-sweater. I'm not overly proud to admit this.

I listen to ESPN radio five or six hours a day; the last hour of Mike & Mike, three hours of Colin Cowherd, and two hours of Tirico & Van Pelt. I stop listening at 2:00 for some reason. Why do I love listening to Mike Tirico with Scott Van Pelt but switch to my mp3 player when SVP goes on by himself? I don't get it either, but it's what I do.

I don't use soap when I wash my hands at work because it smells like baby powder. I used the soap when I washed my hands after lunch. I regret doing this regardless how gross it might be.

I can't get the thought out of my head that I should move to Indianapolis in the fall. I love my life in Nashville and I know I will grow to love my new job, but Indiana is home. I don't think I'll move this soon though as I hate job-searching and am only in my second month of a job I have yet to even get a solid grasp on.

I listen to the same three or four songs every morning while I'm getting dressed and packing my lunch: In Your Atmosphere, Daughters, and Free Fallin' from John Mayer's "Where The Light Is." I do it mostly because I enjoy these songs, but also because they take approximately 15 minutes to play through and I know when I need to leave without looking at a clock.

I have over 12,000 songs on my computer. I would guess I've listened to maybe half of them at some point. I'm a music whore, but I have this idea that the best song I've never heard is floating out there somewhere and the only way I'm going to find it is if I keep looking/downloading/stealing.

Seriously, my hands reek of baby powder smelling green soap.

There should be hyphens used in the sentence above. You tell me where they go.

I'm currently hooked on NCAA Basketball '09 for my 360. I have my Indiana State Sycamores at 22-0 and ranked 9th. I'm only playing on the Junior Varsity difficulty because I'd never played the game before I started playing this season. I beat Illinois State 91-46 in a 26 minute game last night. I think I could step it up to the Varsity difficulty, but I'm so afraid of losing that I don't want to until next season when I have 4-star recruits coming.

I'm even afraid of losing in video games. I love it. My first Nintendo was a victim of my hatred for losing. I'm glad I've matured to a point where I don't beat my video games anymore. Those were the days...

I watched Home Alone and Home Alone 2 this Christmas season. They're both hilarious movies, with the original obviously being the best. I'd forgotten about the neighbor kid who tells them to bring him something French. The part where he's asking the van drivers questions cracks me up.

I haven't seen a John Mayer show in more than a year and a half. Rumor is he won't be touring again until the fall. Someone should probably make up some new rumors just to get my hopes up.

I'm making rosemary & olive oil marinated pork chops for dinner tonight. I hope they're good. I also hope I come home to a fixed ceiling in our apartment. It has had two huge holes in it for almost a month now and I'm sick of not having a livable living room.

There should be a hyphen there, too. It seems like I would just add them instead of commenting on it, but what fun is that? Blogging is about quantity and quality.

It's been approximately 11 months since I've had any fast food (I eat Subway, we've decided it doesn't count). I'm going to make it at least a year and who knows how long from there. The thought doesn't even cross my mind anymore to get it. I spend a little more money this way on food sometimes (on things like rosemary & olive oil marinated pork chops and roasted potatoes), but I know in the long run I'm better off. I don't know what switch flipped in my head where I just gave it up, but I'm glad it did. I have a lot of friends who tell me they could never give it up. I would have told you the same thing a year ago, but look at me now. I wish I had this kind of will-power and control with the rest of my life.

I like not having cell phone reception at my desk with the exception of about one square foot next to my desk phone. It allows me to text, but if someone calls me I can just tell them I don't have any reception and didn't get their call.

I probably shouldn't have said that last part...

I went on a mission trip to Arkansas with my youth group after my sophomore year of college. Our friend Derek, who is four and a half years older than me, went along. We'd drive by this mailbox everyday that was made out of an old plow. This is what we'd say:

B: You see that mailbox, dude?
D: Yeah, dude.
B: It's made out of a plow.
D. No way!

By about the fourth day we were really tired of saying that, but we'd do it every time we passed it. I can still see that mailbox in my head. Maybe she'll be mine someday...

If only,
B

P.S. I would never allow myself to have such a hideous mailbox.