Happy Prosperous Future

As I wrap up 2008, I have to admit it’s been a good year. Maybe that’s because it started off on the right foot.

First, I moved into an apartment that reeks of Animal House. We regularly hosted themed keg parties which involve large crowds, great photos, and police. I hope I’m forever 19 at heart.

I also became more civically engaged than ever and the campaign consumed a lot of my free time. I can say it was all worth while since the results leaned our way. If it had gone the other direction, my opening paragraph would have been different.

As a way to make extra cash, grow professionally, and avoid the winter doldrums, I started a company with Ang. I’ll share more details after we officially incorporate next week, but safe to say this little project will teach me a lot about life. The part I’m most excited about? Referring to myself as a shareholder.

I met a lot of new humans, most of who are so cool that I count myself lucky to be associated with them…one in particular is just realizing she controls her own hands.

I’ll usher in 2009 the same way I did with 2008: surrounded by friends and the features blurring. As a reader of too many news and science articles, I have a difficult time being optimistic about the future of our species and planet, but it is celebrations like tonight’s ritual renewal where I can’t help feel that everything will be just fine.

So I wish you and yours a Happy New Year, completely devoid of any major geological, astronomical, or environmental catastrophes.

See you on the other side.

The reason for the season

Someone please nominate me for CNN’s Hero of the Year award.

Why? Over the weekend, went gift shopping and ended up bringing more home for myself than others.

Typical American male consumer, I know.

But being a Catholic, I also have a profound and ulcerating sense of guilt. Particularly, I couldn’t ignore that I purchased a very expensive winter coat that was entirely unnecessary. Because damn, it looked good.

But damn, my baby niece also needs a Cubs onesie.

So today, I begrudgingly took that coat back. Instead, I will buy more things for my family. Who will, in turn, tolerate every whine/mention of this really fantastic coat that I really, really want for Christmas.

I just wanted popcorn and Dots

Should I go see The Day the Earth Stood Still?

That was the question in mind when I jumped on the Goog. I read a few reviews and decided that every remake is castrated by critics...screw it, I’m going to see it anyway.

Then I checked the Goog Reader and saw that one of my favorite science sites had also reviewed it. But before they launched into their ‘meh’ review, they typed one of the most depressing things I’ve read:

“...they [astrobiologists] [ed note: I bet it sounds cooler than it really is] have speculated that more advanced lifeforms are exceedingly rare: consider that for 85 per cent of the 4 billion years life has existed on Earth, no multicellular creatures arose. So the rapid extinction of many species here would be a significant blow to the biodiversity of the entire galaxy, not just the Earth’s.”

Wow. Not only do humans shoulder the guilt for the shithole-iness of their own double-wide, but also the entire effin trailer park.

T.G.I.F.

This movie review—-combined with the gloomy economic news, Blagojevich, the freezing temperatures, the smelly homeless man that I couldn’t stand touching me on the train, and a week of restless sleep—-has me seriously in the negative on Respect-for-Humanity points. Tack onto that the clear realization that I am just as guilty! It’s not some phantom Republican who is burning “clean” coal in a hospital maternity ward. I carry my groceries home in plastic bags, for chrissakes! I’m a conspirator!

Luckily, there are two days ahead in which I have complete control over my schedule and I’m taking suggestions from you on how to balance myself out by Monday.

Do I go to church?
(Definitely not Catholic, where this readiness to accept mindless guilt came from.)

Do I go to a museum?
(And see people superficially absorbing small amounts of trivial knowledge, and most of them missing the point completely.)

Do I go see Milk?
(Self-explanatory. And I’ll probably cry in public.)

Do I volunteer?
(And see the sad state that charities are in due to thirty reckless years of Wall Street.)

You're probably thinking that I'm approaching this all the wrong way...a bit too glass-half-empty. You're right, my glass of wine is nearly empty. I should buy a case of wine on the way home and make plans to stay indoors where the temperature will be steady, but my remote-controlling hand will not.

That, my friends, might actually be what it takes to return me to normal.

Sushi crime fighters

We can all attest with some sadness that Saturday morning cartoons are no longer what they used to be. We all had our favorites (though mine were limited because our antennaed television on the farm only picked up 4-5 channels) and look upon these bastard creations as pure blasphemy.

Well, this morning I woke up early with nothing to do, so I went channel surfing. That's when I discovered the wacky world of the Sushi Pack. They are tiny pieces of sushi that fight crime using their wits first...and culinary weapons only as a last resort.

Villain: "No you don't, crab cakes!"

Weapons include the ability to shoot fish eggs or multicolored ink and lobster pinchers. A tiny sidekick (Wasabi) speaks incoherently while shooting fireballs.

My opinion: Too much awesomeness. But I wonder how many 3-6 year old floor-dwelling cutup hotdog eaters know what sushi is? Or does it matter?

Then again, I didn't know half of what was going on in He-Man, I just knew that I was going to be him when I grew up. Does that mean this new generation will grow up with fantasies of becoming crime-fighting condiments?

Whatever...I now want a pet Wasabi for Christmas...

Head cold

I’m so terrible at posting consistently. Perhaps it had something to do with the evil head cold that I got on Sunday at the movie theater. Apparently, just watching Charlie Kaufman’s work suppresses your immune system.

The head cold has now settled into my throat and just when I feel relatively comfortable and well, my body is wracked by a rib-bending cough that attempts to dislodge…a phantom itch. Annoying.

Tonight is a work event where I will surely have a few glasses of wine, walking the tightrope between making my body forget the throat itch or falling completely into a black hole of two-weeks-long body-wide illness.

Last night, I tried the gym (ya know, get the body’s blood cells pumping). Well, either the gods hate me or my iPhone is broken, because I can no longer route my Podrunner through the treadmill. Running to the staccato cadence of Rachel Maddow’s voice just isn’t the same as house music synchronized to your heartbeat. At all.

Should I just take up knitting?

Do you have a clothing store that has always come through for you? Or are you a scavenger, picking up “greats” all across the city?

I have a favorite and it is Express. Why? Because it easily describes my personality: Detached and mostly hues of grey and black. Express also always has my size and when I find myself in a bind, I know that this store will always deliver. It’s simple.

H&M and Gap have seriously left me hanging in the past. They are great, affordable options, but it takes so long to find something that works. My friends will attest that by taking one look at me, you’d know I hate expending lots of energy on dressing myself. And Macy's is just a clusterfuck.

But I do feel the need to be more adventurous in the future. So, I’ve compiled a grand coalition. Josh for jeans. Katie for glasses. Ang for colors. Stef for business. I call it my Advisory Panel on External Expressions. Sounds fun, right? You’re right, it sounds like torture.

Now if I’d just put as much thought into my wardrobe as I do to naming my advisory panels...

Never say never. Dare ya.

Regrets, as most will agree, are viewed as a waste of time. Some friends have expressed proudly to me that they have NO regrets. That’s like saying I’m above reality television: Bullshit.

If I dig deep enough, I would begrudgingly admit that I want to live a long and miserable life with Flipping Out’s Jeff Lewis. On FO, everyone hates each other and Jeff is an utterly twisted demon. And he’s rich. Those are all the ingredients for good reality television, which I would never admit to anyone’s face having DVRed.

Regrets can also conveniently be turned into learning experiences. In high school, I accidentally insulted the class Wicca. He claimed the ability to make it rain, so you can imagine my horror of turning around and finding him staring deep into my now damned soul. I felt terrible (if only for self-preservation’s sake) and have ever since been more careful before making fun of others. This regret turned into a Life Lesson, therefore making me appreciate that it occurred in the first place.

But I will go on record right now as having one regret. Just one. And it's a biggie.

In college, for our annual Flunk Day celebration (school sanctioned drinkfest), I booked Chicago’s Kill Hannah as the musical entertainment instead of...

...OkGo.

Ugh. Now you see why. There’s no lesson to be had. I couldn’t have seen a few months into the future when they’d release their sensational treadmill video. My error has forever left a void in the hearts of every student...a garish gash upon the gentle, porcelain veneer that is Coe College.

The good news though: I’ve recently avoided another regret I was certain to go to the grave with: Attempting to turn one of my ingenious ideas into a business. I hate numbers and patience, assuredly two of the most important skills needed in a startup. Today, I received a semi-official and believable “go ahead” on an idea I’m hatching with Ang. I can’t divulge corporate secrets yet because there’s plenty of time to be embarrassed by its failure in the obstacle course called “Owning a Small Business Anywhere.”

What's your greatest regret? And I won’t be surprised if it somehow involves Kill Hannah.