Update

I haven't forgotten about you, 25 for 25 (see previous entry), I'm just putting you off until after the Holidays. It's a harder project that I ever thought, but I'll finish it.

A we society...

Over the next 25 days, I will be writing 25 letters to individuals, groups, and organizations who have effected my life in some way, helping me to become the man I am today. Each letter will be posted to my blog, with some names and information withheld for privacy's sake. This is an exercise in pushing my own boundries and telling those that mean the most to me how important they have been. I hope you enjoy this as much as I do...

___________________________

Two weeks ago in church, one of the juniors in the youth group was asked to speak following the sermon. It was More Light Sunday at our church, where we celebrated the love of Christ we share with our brothers and sisters in the gay community. Emily spoke so eloequently for a 16 year old. She spoke with conviction and power that many of us can only dream about. Her words are shown below, but the passion in her voice does not translate. She loves as Jesus loved, openly and freely. I hope we can all know what that feels like...

For the past two years, I have been a participant in my school, Hume-Fogg’s, Gay-Straight Alliance. Once a month we meet and discuss the relevant situations going on within the LGBT community and talk about what sort of awareness projects we can participate in or host ourselves. The most prominent event we partake in is the Day of Silence. And if you aren’t aware of what exactly the Day of Silence is, it is basically when supporters of gay-rights are silent for an entire day to make people stop and notice what we are standing up for. It can be a struggle, especially for someone like me who can barely go 5 minutes without talking. But I am a passionate advocate for gay-rights and truly believe in equality for all people, no matter their race, background, socioeconomic status, and especially sexual orientation.

As I have been growing up, my parents have made a huge impact on my beliefs. But on the other hand, they have also made a big point out of letting me grow in my morals and way of life. So as I have been getting older, I have become more aware of the discrimination towards the LGBT community. Because of my parents’ beliefs on acceptance and because of this church’s whole-hearted acceptance of people, there was no hesitation in my choice to support gay-rights. To me, there is right or wrong way to love. No one should be able to tell you that you are wrong for simply loving someone, no matter their gender. If being with that person makes you happy and helps you grow as a person, then no one should stop you from being with them.

I am lucky to have grown up in such an environment that is so welcoming and accepting of all people. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for the world we live in. Hate and discrimination against homosexuals goes on every day. The fact that someone can call themselves a Christian and say that they love everyone one second, and then turn around and say they hate homosexuals the next, is so unfathomable to me. Is it not a sin to hate people?

I struggle with dealing with rude people like this every day. They frustrate me beyond belief, but I just pray to God in those times of need and He grants me with patience and love for those people. Recently, the most awful events have occurred within the LGBT community. In the past 2 months, 6 homosexual teenagers in the US alone have taken their lives due to bullying and discrimination. These kinds of events should never happen. No person should ever want to end their life because of who they love. That is why I joined the Gay-Straight Alliance at my school. I am an ambassador around my school and for my friends as a person that anyone can come talk to and feel safe. By being a member of this club, I want to make not only people in my school, but also everyday people aware of the inequality towards the LGBT community, and gain support in the fight for gay-rights.

God made us who we are on purpose; no life should ever be taken because of that.

Ngi ne themba.

1. I spoke my mind on an issue that might have gone overlooked otherwise at a meeting tonight. I spent the first 20+ years of my life being quiet, and I'm still quiet many times, but I've learned when to speak up. I kinda like the me I've turned in to.

2. The West Wing might be my favorite television show. Over the last several years, I have watched the series from start to finish a couple times, and I'm currently beginning season four. I know they're fictional characters, but this show gives me hope that there are politicians worth looking up to, that have the best interest of the American public at heart, and that are genuine, good people.

3. Sometimes I wonder if I've taken a strong and open stand towards a liberal agenda because it's what I truly believe or because the conservative right has driven me to it. I know I believe everything I preach, but I fear I have become driven by the fight instead of the passion. There are days when I feel that isn't true, but there are some that I do and that bothers me.

4. Why am I awake at 2:24am? And why am I not very tired? I couldn't tell you the last time I was in bed and asleep before midnight. I'm sure it was only eight or nine days ago, but I can't recall the occasion. My Dad would tell me, "You have your days and nights mixed up," and I'd shrug him off just like I did during my four years of college.

5. I've recently found a level of comfort in my job that I hadn't felt until now. I have always been comfortable at work in the sense of being relaxed and feeling like I belong. But until a few weeks ago, I hadn't felt like I was able to do my job, on my own, at a high level. Obviously, I still need help with many tasks and don't know how to do others, but I'm confident in finding a way to accomplish all of my tasks.

6. I've started running, again, in the past couple weeks. I say again because, in my few years in Nashville, I've started and stopped running at least three times. I'm hoping that this is the time it becomes a part of my normal routine.

7. I have hope.

False Evidence Appearing Real

During the recent weeks, the debate over the construction of Islamic community center in New York City has overwhelmed me. I argue that not allowing a group to build because of their religious beliefs is un-American. I argue that grouping all Muslims in with a tiny sect of Islamic Extremists is racist and prejudiced.

I argue.

During these discussions, these arguments, I try to keep a cool head. I try to preach the love of Jesus. I try to explain that even though these Islamic Extremists murdered 3,000 Americans nine years ago, and tried to murder many more, they do not represent the world of Islam. I try to explain that as Americans, we can not judge someone based on the culture of another country.

I try.

As I try to convince those on the other side of the debate that they're wrong, I hope I educate them. I hope I teach them that love is always better than hate. I hope I share the lessons Jesus taught us about praying for your enemies, having mercy on the merciful, and loving everyone the way we longed to be loved. I hope they listen.

I hope.

I understand both sides of the argument. I understand that the events of September 11, 2001 were unimaginable. I understand that the events of that day might shape the way the entire world works for the rest of my days. I understand that we have to respect and honor those who lost their lives that day.

But I don't understand.

I don't understand how some say we're putting the country first by going against the standards this country was founded on. I don't understand how Christians argue with such hatred. I don't understand why we think Muslims are here to take over our society. I don't understand why we're afraid. I don't understand why.

Why are we afraid?

I'm fearful that this country is being divided over one of the bases of its beginnings. Almost 400 years ago, a group of English men and women boarded a boat and crossed the Atlantic. They risked their lives because they were being so harshly persecuted for their religious believes. And now here we are, half of the country telling an entire religion they aren't welcome on the same land those Pilgrims sought out.

It's not right.

I've never taken such a passionate stance on a political issue before now. For once in my life, my fear has driven me to action instead of inaction. I have a small voice in this world, but if I don't use it to fight for those in need, I'm the oppressor. We're on this earth for only a short time, shouldn't we do all we can to make it a better place? Shouldn't we always love? Shouldn't we?

I won't give up...

...I hope you join me.

Blue skies smiling at me

I love my window office. I don't always love work, but I always love my window office. Having spent the first 13 months in an office secluded in the middle of a large building with nothing but blank walls to stare at, I appreciate my window office. Being able to look onto the streets of downtown Nashville and into the blues skies filled with white clouds makes each day a blessing. My window allows me to escape for a few moments each day; escape from my desk and the duties that come with it. It allows me to think about the things I want to think about: social justice issues, my place in the world, girls, and baseball (of course).

In the last few weeks, my mind has been everywhere. I can only assume this has been my quarter-life crisis, if moving to Nashville wasn't. I've been trying to figure out what I could do to both better myself and the world. I've considered finding a new job in Nashville, finding a job in Indiana and moving closer to home, and going to grad school in Vancouver, British Columbia. Each of these thoughts lasts for four or five days at at time, but while they're at the front of my mind it's all I can think about.

With my obsessive personality and awesome ability to over-think the most minute things, my mind never stops working. On Wednesday night, I finally found the quiet inside my mind. I went for a run in the park, knowing I needed the exercise, but also knowing I had to do something besides sit on the couch frustrated with my lack of forward progress in life. While running, I tuned out the music in my ears and tuned in the world around me. I realized that while I've been peeking over every fence I could find, I've missed the green, green grass below my feet. I realized that I'm happy.

Even I can't over-think that.

I have a lot to work on, but I'm getting there. I'm still looking for love, hoping for greater achievements at work, and always chasing success in all that I do, but I've understood that my place, for now, is in Nashville, Tennessee being happy. I have an amazing family, great friends, the best church I could ever hope for, an awesome group of youth to work with, and a window office.

You can't beat that.

_____________________________

I'd encourage you to take 45 minutes of your day and watch this sermon from the Rev. Dr. Tony Campolo. I was fortunate enough to hear it in person at the 2010 Presbyterian Youth Triennium in July. I've never heard a better sermon and I'm not sure I will. This gets me hype to change the world like nothing. Hope you like it as much as I do.

Rev. Dr. Tony Campolo - July 24, 2010 from Presbyterian Youth on Vimeo.

You down with BRC? Yeah, you know me

The words below are from Bruce Reyes-Chow, former Moderator of the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church USA, in his speech at a Prop 8 Verdict Rally in San Francisco. I might not have chosen such strong words, but the moment we stop being radical is the moment we stop being Christian...

I know that many of my people have influenced this particular journey in non-positive ways. I stand before you also confessing for the Christian church for too many times in our words and actions have created pain and violence. I stand before you confessing for those who have proclaimed a message of Biblical literalism and cultural narrow-mindedness that has oppressed rather than liberated. I stand before you at this time to confess for far too many of us well meaning straight allies who have not spoken out for justice that we need to step out now more than ever.

This is a time of great celebration. This is a time when Christians around the world who will continue to push for justice must come out and stand, stand long and advocate the message of God to those Biblical literalists who have poisoned our understanding of marriage, sexuality and love. We will no long stand and allow the message of hope, compassion, justice and love to be drowned out by the screams of hatred, oppression and injustice. We will no longer stand and see our friends, our family, our congregations members and strangers be denied the same civil rights that so many of us have been granted for a life time.

There is a time that we must each embrace our call to speak out, act out of our place of privilege, risk our power, our authority, our comfort and assure that justice, compassion and love prevail.

This is such a time. This is now.

Thank you and God bless.

Herculez! Herculez! Herculez!

Before the World Cup started, I told myself that this was going to mark the time that I would become a soccer fan. It might be hard to get into things past being able to root for my country, but in two weeks I have learned more about the game and its players than I ever knew before. I'm in a fantasy league, in which I'm barely losing to a friend from Chile, and watching four or five matches every weekend. I took half a day off work today so I could watch the American match.

Today's match was one of the most exciting sports moments I've ever seen. The Cubs winning the 2003 NLDS against the Braves, Indiana State almost winning the 2005 Missouri Valley Women's Basketball Tournament, and Indiana State beating the eighth ranked Indiana Hoosiers in men's basketball are probably the three moments of my life that rank above today's soccer match. The day the Cubs win the World Series will top all of these, they're my first love, but today's match was exceptional.

There are hundreds of videos online from bars & groups of people watching the match this morning and celebrating Landon Donovan's goal, all of which still excite me more than they should. I was chatting with my friend Aston during the match today and the transcript is fairly hilarious. Mom, I'm sorry for cursing, but this was exciting as hell and you know how much I love sports and winning:

B: i'm almost shaking w/ anxiety
A: my heart is pounding
A: we are gonna freaking get screwed
A: this sucks
B: 6 or 7 minutes maybe to score
A: not gonna happen
B: you gotta believe
A: its tough
A: it just sucks how bad we got screwed
B: waht is that yellow for?
A: hah ano clue
B: yellllllllllllllllll
A: OH MY GOOOOOOOODDDD
A: HOLY FUCKING SHIt
A: i just had a heart attack
B: i can't even type the write words i want to
B: holy shit
A: un fucking believable
A: I am shaking
B: me too
B: and yelling and pmping my fist a lot
B: holy fuck
A: I am in utter shock
A: we better stop them
A: we gotta stop them
A: damn it I cant get on twitter

I was so excited that all I could type was "yellllllllllll," which I now find hilarious. All I can remember is the goal going in, hitting keys to acknowledge the score, and jumping off the couch and screaming as loudly as I could, followed by a series of fist pumps that Snooki would have been proud of.

Sports breathe life into me like nothing else can. They make me curse like I never do, they make me scream and yell with emotion that I show in very few other areas of like. Losing is one of my least favorite things in the world and winning is my absolute favorite thing in the world. Some have told me that I'm obsessed with sports; I haven't accepted that fact yet. All I know is I'm going to keep rooting for my boys on US Soccer for the rest of my life.

And for those of you who still say soccer is boring and will never be popular in the United States, you might want to consider changing your mind. I'm still amped with emotion from this morning's victory. I hope you'll join the club.

As I told my mom on the phone tonight, today was a good day.

Let's get 'em on Saturday, USA.

If fear hasn't killed me yet, then nothing will

A town.

The rains started and, seemingly, never stopped. It rained for more than 30 hours. And now, Nashville is under water. Jeff and I are safe and sound, never losing power or cable television all weekend. But there are many in the community who have not been as lucky. Tens of thousands went without power, thousands were evacuated from their homes, and hundreds had to be rescued by boats to avoid the rising waters.

The waters will recede, homes will be repaired and rebuilt, and Nashville will recover. The items destroyed, cars, homes, and a tragic number of people, will be missed, but never forgotten. We'll remember that weekend in May of 2010 that the town flooded, but we'll also remember helping our friends and neighbors stay dry and safe.

A church.

The sanctuary of Second Presbyterian burned in 2003. Just weeks before, a new pastor had been called to serve at Second. That pastor would rebuild not only the sanctuary, but the church. Second is everything the Presbyterian Church is not: we're young and growing. I wish all churches could witness the strong leadership that Second has; it is a truly amazing church.

Several weeks ago, our senior pastor announced he was leaving to be closer to his family in California. The news was shocking to everyone. We had come to love and respect Jim more than we knew. But because we are such a young and strong-willed church, we will go on just as Jim would want us to. We'll remember his strong faith and his desire to serve the local community and fight for social justice for all, but we'll also remember him as our friend.

A man.

Annie and I had never met, but we got each other. We were "introduced" by a mutual friend on Twitter (ahhhh the 21st Century...) and from there, it went. We talked daily, most days more than once, for almost two months. We discussed music, movies, politics, food, sports, relationships, family, and probably any other topic you could think of. Many nights, we'd end up discussing our fears; it seemed to be a topic we both thought of a lot. And most of those nights would end with Annie calling me on my shit, telling me to live life unafraid to fail, regardless how bad I might hate it. For those two months we talked, I was more of the man I strive to be than I've ever been before.

I haven't talked to Annie for two months. Even though we had never met, I allowed myself to fall for her. It wasn't what either of us needed, especially her, and caused our friendship to end. I hate that I think about her most days, but it's hard not to. I remember Annie's ability to take life as it comes, her willingness to face her fears, but mostly I remember her willingness to help me face my own fears.

A town, a church, and a man.

All three have been changed by something that is no longer there, but we're (hopefully) better for it because we have the knowledge gained. The people of Nashville will appreciate what they have, including their lives, knowing it could be swept away. The people at Second Presbyterian will continue to serve the community, using the tools Jim passed on to us through his leadership. And as for me, I have the lessons Annie taught me.

______________________________

I've been sitting on this blog idea for at least a month. I've started writing it at least three other times, never being able to find the words that matched the sentiment they contain. I was also hesitant to write about my personal feelings, not knowing who reads this. But if I can't blog about me liking a girl on the internet so that the whole world can read it, then what can I do?

I'm truly blessed to live in the town I do, attend the church I attend, and have the friends I have. Things might not always go as planned, but we survive because we have hope. What we each individually hope for is different, but we also hope for things on larger scales. Tonight, Nashville hopes the floods recede and we're able to resume "normal" life, Second Presbyterian is thankful the flood damage was minimal, and I am thankful for all that I have been given.

"Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy. For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow. So let it grow, for when your endurance is fully developed, you will be perfect and complete, needing nothing." -James 1:2-4

TGIF

1. It was dark and rainy all morning and now the sky is blue, the clouds are white, and the sun is shining. Hello, weekend!

2. I saw a two-car funeral procession go down 8th Ave. today. That made a little sad.

3. I'm excited to see Starlin Castro play for the Cubs at some point this season. We haven't had a young played promoted like this since Felix Pie. I'm hoping things go differently with Starlin.

4. And how cool a name is Starlin Castro?

5. This tweet from Keith Law cracked me up: "Carlos Gomez" is a Spanish phrase meaning "Willie Mays Hayes." (If you know baseball, it's funny.)

6. The Beatles & Wu-Tang mash-up album is amazing.

7. 99.99% of girls don't and never will understand sports.

8. I could name specific examples for #7, but that'd be rude.

9. Evan Turner's 40ft buzzer beater today is why March Madness is amazing.

10. The only thing better than Turner's shot was Thad Matta (Ohio St's coach) running towards the Michigan bench, pumping his fist, and yelling, "THAT'S WHAT I'M MOTHER FUCKING TALKING ABOUT!!!"

11. I'm sorry for cursing in my blog, Mommy.

12. Scouts have said the ball coming off Jason Heyward's bat sounds like a young Ken Griffey, Jr. or Albert Pujols. That's scary.

13. Can you tell I like baseball just a little bit?

14. And can you tell it's 3:30 on a Friday afternoon?

15. I started running again this week. It's a slow and steady process for me and my friend Asthma.

16. The SEC tournament being in Nashville has made traffic crazy. The only thing better than driving in a city of Southerner's is adding 30,000 more Southerner's for the weekend.

17. I had 8th row tickets to the John Mayer show in Louisville tomorrow and sold them to make a little cash. I kinda wish I going now that the weekend is approaching.

18. I'm not sure I'll ever hear the word "situation" the same after watching Jersey Shore.

19. I think I tweeted half the stuff I'm thinking of to say, but you're gonna read it anyways, so who cares?

20. I bought The Wire box set this week. I have only seen season one prior to this purchase, but the library was taking way too long to get season two to me; I couldn't wait any longer. I hope I love it.

21. I'm making it a point to try and read more books. When I say more, than means read books in general. I read the Kite Runner and it was great. Now the only problem is I'm four issues behind on ESPN the Magazine.

22. "Daughters" on the John Mayer trio album makes me angry. That song is so tragically over-played and that version is so tragically bad.

23. "Funny what seven days can change. A stand up n*#@$@. Now, you sit down to aim," might be my favorite Jay-Z lyric. Not because it's poetic or thought-provoking, but because anything involving a guy sitting down to pee is funny.

24. I have to go to the bathroom.

Is this heaven? No, it's Iowa...

On Facebook this week, my sister’s college roommate asked a guy I went to elementary school with how he knew the Moles family. (Neither of them are probably aware that this conversation showed up on my news feed, but I enjoyed watching the exchange.) I haven’t talked to this guy since fifth grade, but his response to her asking about me was, “I went to elementary school with Brian and I know through Facebook he loves the Cubs.”

Baseball is a part of me and always will be. Even people I don’t communicate with know I love the Cubs, though Facebook does give me a platform I didn’t have ten years ago. When people ask me my dream job, my first answer is always second base for the Chicago Cubs. Ryne Sandberg was my favorite player as a kid and his job will always be the one I want.

Baseball is the greatest game on earth to me. I know most of the country finds it boring and too slow, but that’s what makes it perfect. Whomever invented the game (no one truly knows who the inventor is), along with a few very slight and helpful changes made here and there over the years, knew what they were doing: to align the diamond so a ground ball to a defender would, in most cases, create an out, but if that ball is hit in the hole or slow enough, rewards the speed of the base runner; to make basic outfield dimensions so a sacrifice fly, in most cases, creates a play at the plate, rewarding either the base-runner’s speed or outfielder’s arm.

The game is perfect to me. People often make fun of the game for being steroid-troubled, but that matters very little to me. Yes, I agree taking steroids and growth hormones are illegal and should not be done, but look at what they did for the game. The summer of 1998 was one of the most fun baseball seasons I can remember. Sosa and McGwire going head-to-head to break Roger Maris homerun record, and being friendly about it the whole way, brought hundreds of thousands of fans back to the game. We all knew then that McGwire was taking something, but we didn’t care. We care now because it’s easy to forget how much we enjoyed something we’re now sour to (McGwire’s day in front of Congress didn’t help our good memories of him stick around either).

The season starts three weeks from Sunday and I can not wait. Can it get better than a three-day weekend with family for Easter and the baseball season starting Sunday evening? I’m not sure it can (Well, it could if the Cubs and Reds were playing instead of the Red Sox and Yankees, but I understand that move…sorta).

Here’s a story Buster Olney posted yesterday in his daily blog on espn.com. It represents all that is great about the game of baseball (after you read it, we can all go watch Field of Dreams):

A couple of years ago, I was cleaning out some old trunks in the basement and found a familiar small tan box that I had kept in a desk drawer as a kid. Originally, it had housed a fishing reel that my grandfather had given me, but in time, I took out the rarely used reel and replaced it with a keepsake that didn't quite fit in the box, lightly bowing out its top and bottom.

On Sept. 29, 1974, the Expos played host to the Philadelphia Phillies at Jarry Park in Montreal, and among the 23,326 fans that day were the members of the Central Vermont Little League. We boarded a bus that morning, and I carried with me that baseball, and a mission: I wanted to get Willie Davis' autograph.

I was crazy for the Dodgers and Davis had played 13 seasons for Los Angeles, and some of my first baseball cards were of him in a Dodgers uniform. Before the 1974 season, he was traded straight-up to the Expos for reliever Mike Marshall. But to me, he was still a Dodger, and wore the same uniform number that I did -- No. 3 -- and I went to Jarry Park that day devoted to the idea that Davis would sign my baseball.

But as with most things in life, I really had given no thought to the question of how that would happen before we all settled into our seats on the third-base side, about 25 or 30 rows behind the Montreal dugout. Our family was chained to our dairy farm by the twice-daily milking cycle of the cows, and I had been to only one other major league game, at Fenway Park in September 1972, and I never even thought of procuring autographs at the time.

And besides the questions of how to best position yourself for an autograph -- Along the foul lines? Near the outfield wall? -- I was a shy kid, and major league baseball players to me were nothing less than gods; to ask someone like Willie Davis for an autograph, for me, was like the Cowardly Lion approaching the Wizard of Oz for a wish. I was completely overwhelmed, which is why I remained rooted in my seat before the game, and then right on through the first six innings.

I do recall specific moments in that game, such as Ken Singleton launching a first-inning grand slam, something he remembered clearly when I asked him about it many years later. But mostly I sat in my seat and tried to summon the courage to go to the railing behind the Expos' dugout and ask Davis for an autograph.

Now, 36 years later, I know that the notion of going to the edge of the dugout during a game and asking for an autograph is completely absurd, out of the question, a nice way for you to be intercepted by security. But at 10 years old, I had no idea that there was autograph protocol. I figured if a player had a free moment, he would sign a baseball. This is what my expectation of a benevolent god was at the time.

The Phillies batted in the top of the seventh. The records show that Del Unser grounded out to first base to end the inning, and then as the Expos ran off the field, I made my move, bouncing down the aluminum steps of the grandstands and reaching the railing quickly, just as Davis approached the steps in front of me.

I probably said something along the lines of "Mr. Davis, can I have your autograph?" and extended my baseball and a pen.

And Willie Davis reached up and signed my baseball, in a swirl of blue ink.

I turned around and there was a line of kids forming behind me, but Willie Davis was gone, off to do his work; in fact, the play-by-play record from that day shows that he led off the bottom of the seventh.

When I got home, I took the reel out of its case and replaced it with the ball that Davis had signed, where it remains, his signature faded.

I never spoke with Willie Davis again, never met him in person. But on at least one day, he made a dream of a 10-year-old kid come to life, fulfilled hope, and I presume there were many moments and days like that for him. What power he had in his life.

Willie Davis passed away Monday, at the age of 69.

The magic and the misery come and go so easily...

1. I told Jeff that one of our friends wanted to come over to catch up on some Mayer stuff (Storytellers, etc.). To my delight, Jeff's quick response was, "Oh, racism?"

2. My mom got me a new Colts shirt for the Super Bowl. I can never wear it again on a game day. I'm paranoid like that.

3. "The golden opportunity you are seeking is in yourself. It is not in your environment; it is not in luck or chance, or the help of others; it is in yourself alone" -Orison Marden

4. I let my thoughts overwhelm me earlier this week. It felt good, in an odd way, to feel such pain, to feel anything really. The joy of letting that pain go is much, much better.

5. Spending Saturday evening with my Dad at an Eric Clapton concert was one of the best evenings of my life. Days like that are the ones you hold onto forever.

6. The Cubs are on television Saturday and Sunday this weekend. Spring Training games can be a pain to watch, but it will make me really giddy for baseball season to start.

7. My shoes are cooler than your shoes.

8. One of my favorite things about Twitter is seeing the Oklahoma Thunder teammates talk to each other. That team has chemistry out the wazoo and will be very, very good in a couple years.

9. My February concert list was pretty impressive: BB King, Buddy Guy, 'Keb 'Mo, John Mayer, Roger Daltrey, and Eric Clapton. I'm semi-bragging and semi-wasting words, but that list is amazing.

10. Mayer played a new song the other night. It sounds like something he used to write. That's an odd statement since he's the same guy, but I think it's true. Here's a link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mNhJycRTqVo

11. Trader Joe's microwave brownies are pretty neat (just add water & microwave for a minute) and semi-delicious, but for a dollar more you could get ten times the brownies already made.

12. It was almost a let-down when Hawaii didn't get washed away by a tsunami on Saturday. I'm glad it didn't happen, but the news had it so hyped up.

13. The NCAA tourney starts two weeks from tomorrow. I'm hoping my brackets turn out better than they have the past two years.

14. Gatorade dropping Tiger Woods as a spokesperson might be the biggest sports-marketing move ever. Adidas dropped Kobe after the rape trial, but they are not the biggest player in the shoe market. As both a marketing guy and a sports fan, I couldn't believe Tiger was dropped. He is golf.

15. I told myself I wouldn't write all of these things about sports and John Mayer. How'd that go for me?

16. It's 1:34 in the AM and my alarm goes off at 6:54. I'm gonna grab my five plus hours of sleep and enjoy Thursday.

17. "I wonder sometimes about the outcome of a still verdictless life. Am I living it right?"

I haven't done this in awhile

1. I hate losing.

2. Colts fans are wuss bags.

3. The Drew Brees "I'm going to Disneyland" commercial makes me mad. Not because he's going to Disneyland, but because it still stings that the Colts lost.

4. Buddy Guy is an amazing performer.

5. BB King used to be an amazing performer. He played for 30 minutes, then talked for 45. I felt so bad for my dad who had waited all these years to see two of his guitar idols and he got Buddy Guy & an old, fat, creepy man.

6. I like a girl so much it hurts and she can't like me back. I hate that.

7. I should see a John Mayer show every night. It makes the next day a lot better.

8. I'm very, very excited for NBA All-Star weekend. My DVR is going to explode between trying to balance that and the opening weekend of the Olympics.

9. I think conservatives who say things like "What change?" are idiots. Obama has tried to change things and, who else, conservatives have blocked his attempts.

10. I also think people who complain about global warming are idiots. Just because it's cold outside doesn't mean we haven't effected the environment significantly.

11. I'm really excited for baseball season. Pitchers and catchers report next week!

12. The view out of my office is a lot better when the sky is blue.

13. I spend so much time trying to fix other things I almost never think to work on myself.

14. I taught a female friend how to change spark plugs last night. She'll probably never have to do it again in her life, but she was excited to learn.

15. I watched "The Hurt Locker" the other night. It was okay. The acting was phenomenal, but it wasn't what I like in a movie.

16. I designed a postcard that's going into print next week. I'm very excited about that.

17. I hope I remember to go to lunch early today. I have a meeting at 1:00 and usually eat lunch at 12:30-12:45ish. I'd be very hungry if I waited til 2:00 to eat.

18. That's all I got for you today.

19. Enjoy your weekend.

23. is my favorite number.

I'm not together, but I'm getting there...

As I'm sure many of you have heard by now, John Mayer is an idiot.

In an interview with Playboy (full read here) that released on Tuesday, Mr. Mayer couldn't control himself. He called his penis a "white supremacist," talked about his sexual relationship with Jessica Simpson in a very un-gentlemanly manner, and might have used the n-word a couple times.

Needless to say, all three of these things caused a significant backlash.

I've invested the last nine years of my life into John Mayer and his music. I'm regularly post on a message dedicated to the man and his music, I talk daily to fellow Mayer fans through various social media outlets, and there is rarely a day I go without listening to his music. The majority of the past nine years as a fan have been great. His music is spectacular and I fully relate to his uncontrollable need to over-think everything.

On the message board, many of the poster's are reacting by lashing out against him for what he said. I can understand their frustrations because he shouldn't have said what he did, but I'm more frustrated with the person he's allowed himself to become.

Someone spoke up saying how many people this interview hurt. Here was my response:

"I don't think he's hurt people in a sense of true hurt. It's more a sense of surprise, disbelief, and let down. I've been a fan for nine years now and this is the person he always told us he'd never be. That's what "hurts" me. The John Mayer I learned to love was kind and clever and passionate about music; he was so self-aware that he knew he wasn't cool enough to sit at the big kids table yet; he knew he had a role to play, but wasn't quite sure of that role. The John Mayer that's been in the media the last couple years is not that guy. He's arrogant, brash, and seems like he takes for granted what he has. I understand that he has become infinitely more popular in recent years, but it wasn't supposed to affect him like this. I'm probably longing for the days when you knew a John Mayer interview was going to make you laugh and think about something from a perspective you'd never seen before. Fame has taken that sense of insecurity and replaced it with a sense of self-infatuation. He used to love out-thinking the interviewer, now he gets off on out-clevering them, except he left his cleverness in 2006."

(I'm not sure I need quotes when they are my own words, but Blogger is a pain and wouldn't cooperate with me indenting)

I hate that I care so much about the situation, but I do. John Mayer's music opened my eyes to a new world. I would never have gone to see B.B. King and Buddy Guy with my dad on Monday night if it weren't for John Mayer. I wouldn't play the guitar myself if it weren't for John Mayer. I wouldn't have several of my friends in my life without John Mayer.

At his concert Tuesday here in Nashville, he apologized for what he had said. 99% of the audience didn't know what he was talking about, but for those who did, it was much needed. I was glad I was there to see it live. (There are several video's of it online if you'd like to see it.) I hope he's sincere and truly changes his ways. The man has amazing music ability and is truly risking his life with the choices he's making lately (not just the interview). As a fan who cares, I really hope he turns things around.

It's been a long time since 22...

Is this Heaven? No, it's Iowa

Yesterday during work, a local restaurant, tweeted that Kevin Costner had just left after eating. Being a huge fan of Field of Dreams, I texted a friend that we should find him and ask him if he "wants to have a catch." I told my brother about this and he laughed that I wanted to play catch with Kevin Costner, but he knew I was serious.

Chatting with a friend last night, we somehow came to the topic of death and dying. We discussed relatives who had died, our experiences with those situations, and also if we were afraid to die. We both agreed that we were afraid to die young, but not afraid of death at an old age as it is how life ends.

The question was posed of what we would do if we knew we only had a week to live. We both agreed that we would spend as much time as possible with our families; that was the most important thing. My friend went on to answer about eating fine food and throwing caution to the wind. My only other answer was a bit less extreme:

I would want to play catch with my dad.

I'm not an overly emotional person and I haven't cried in almost nine years, but this thought brought an immediate lump to my throat (I didn't cry, for the record). Having just referenced Field of Dreams earlier in the day, all I could see is Ray and John Kinsella playing catch on that magnificent field in Iowa, both with tears in their eyes. The next few minutes were filled with images of my dad and I playing catch in our backyard: me having to run into the neighbors yard to find the ball I let get by my glove, Dad having to chase down the ball I threw over his head, the crisp pop of the ball hitting the heel of my glove, and the smiles on our faces when we'd walk inside together when it was finally too dark to see the ball.

What's my point in all of this sentimental rambling? 1) Field of Dreams is my favorite movie. I feel bad for Remember the Titans for being dropped, but the more mature, moved-away-from-home Moles will take Field of Dreams. 2) There is nothing more important to me than my family. 3) Playing catch is one of the best things ever. A friend of mine wrote an article for our college newspaper that world leaders should play catch to work out their differences. I believe that would work more times than not.

Over the next two and a half weeks, my dad will be in town twice to go see two concerts: B.B. King and Buddy Guy together, and Eric Clapton. The setting won't be our backyard for these shows, but we will definitely come inside after dark with smiles on our faces.

"Hey.....Dad? Wanna have a catch?"

"I'd like that."

[This will forever sit in my saved drafts folder. I often blog about sad and thoughtful topics, but never have I shared something that I honestly thought would make my parents cry when they read it. As much as I'd love to let them read this to know that I'd like nothing more than to spend time with them before I go, I can't put them through the thought of it.]

My friends, step up your game.

Dear American Idiots,

I've noticed in the past few days that many of you have been complaining about our efforts in Haiti. You bring up the on-going situation in New Orleans and the countless other problems in this country, saying they're more important than issues outside of our comfortable nation.

I hate to rain on your parade that is closed-mindedness and ignorance, but I'm going to.

We're sending help to Haiti because they need it. It doesn't matter who they are or what else is going on in the world; when a nation that already was almost completely distraught with poverty before it's only major city was destroyed, we send help. We're the United States of America and that's what we do.

I understand your complaint that there is still massive amounts of work needed in New Orleans & thousands of other places, but we can't comprehend the pain & suffering going on in Haiti. I feel like an international asshole just living the life I do compared to what they had (had, not have, that's even worse).

It's ironic and tragic that at a time when our country is divided on the issue of health care, the issue of offering health care to those with literally none has somehow arisen. Before the quake, there were only two physicians per 10,000 Haitians. There are thirteen times as many doctors per capita in the United States.

So, get off your American high horse, look up sympathy on Google (funny thing, they can't do that in Haiti), and then show some. Give $5.00 to UNICEF, the Red Cross, Doctors Without Borders, or any organization with help on the ground in Haiti. They truly need it more than we do at a time like this.

From one asshole to another,
Moles

Don't let your heart get heavy child, inside you there's a strength that lies...

I sat down tonight to write this blog about how deep, emotional, and thoughtful this past week has been. I started and deleted at least 10 attempts, which is about six over my normal pace. As the evening has gone on, I've realized that instead on focusing what I've gone through I need to focus on how I'm come out the other side.

My week was filled with the passing of a high school friend and having to help a friend through a very difficult situation. I ate dinner tonight with a homeless man named Kermit. Hearing about his life and the situations he's been in was extraordinary humbling.

I've kept myself upbeat most of the week, but it's been tough sometimes. I pushed myself as an emotional being this week and it felt good. It was certainly frightening at times, but sometimes you have to face your fears no matter what they are to help a friend.

I was chatting with my friend Annie this evening, telling her about the week that had been and my evening at church. She listened and confirmed my thought that life is humbling, and then sent me this:

That's what friends are for.

"Pain nourishes courage. You can't be brave if you've only had wonderful things happen to you."

-Mary Tyler Moore

(I really wish someone cooler had said that, like Teddy Roosevelt or Rocky)