give me some love.

Part of my current internship was helping host a conference. I wrote a little story about a conference here.

Football News... In April?

The NFL is the best league (Players do not run this league, notice how they played a full season, nothing was shortened. Besides training camp.). Their commissioner, Roger Goodell, is savvy as he is cutthroat. Goodell understands his market, the consumer, and what America wants. That is why he has contracted Nike to make the NFL jersey for this upcoming season. Nike unveiled them today, with only the Seahawks who have major changes to their unis. I think we can expect some modifications this year; I'm guessing the playoffs, probably the Pro-Bowl, but hopefully the NFL lets Nike do at least one game with some crazy jerseys.

I thought it prudent to share a commercial, because, there is not a better marketing company than Nike.

when you leave me alone....

I try to pretend that I am a loner, like it somehow makes me stronger, but really, being a loner sucks. I tell myself and others that I am "independent," and that I don't "need" friends around me all the time. I couldn't be more wrong. Humans need other humans in their human lives. That's just science. Who wants to eat a banana by themselves? No heterosexual.

Look at Alan. As soon as he got Doug, Phil, and Stu, he knew he had a wolf pack.  Lemme quote Alan:

I consider myself a bit of a loner. I tend to think of myself as a one-man wolf pack. But when my sister brought Doug home, I knew he was one of my own. And my wolf pack- it grew by one, so where there two- there were two of us in the wolf pack. I was alone first in the wolf pack and Doug joined in later. And six months ago, when Doug introduced me to you guys, I thought 'Wait a second, could it be?' And now I know for sure- I just added two more guys to my wolf pack. The four of us wolves, running around the desert together in Las Vegas, looking for strippers and cocaine. So tonight, I make a toast! Takes out a knife and cuts his hand. Blood Brothers!

I just hope I do not become like Alan, but I fear for myself when I am alone. Cause I do strange things.

I shave my legs. Seriously. Depressing. The back of the knee is so hard to get too. Again, depressing.
I make up my own rap songs. I have NEVER been good at it.
I wander the house looking.... There is absolutely no loose change in our house or leper-cons.
I facebook stalk. How sad.
I just look at my wall. No doubt man, like my own prison, straight thug.
I write in my journal. More prison stuff, you wouldn't get it. 
I go to movies. Not too bad actually.
I play on a seesaw. 
Work on my craft.

Day of Advent

Everyone loves an underdog. What makes it so inspirational is that they beat the odds despite their inadequacies. The underdog never quite matches up. On paper they don't even compare. Think George Mason   in 2006, Matt Saracen, Susan Boyle, Lone Survivor, Jesse Ventura, the Utah Jazz, Justin Bieber, Ricky Martin, Kanye, Channing Tatum, David and Goliath, and of course Rudy. We all can relate. I'm not telling you anything new, but one thing that has become a revelation to me as of late, was realization that I was the underdog.

Statistically, I am average. Numbers don't lie, but somehow, I've been tricking myself into believing that I was somewhat of the exception. I should have realized this when I was in High School. My basketball coach pulled me aside and told me to not shoot in games. Ever. Only lay-ups. (Coach Williams, I blame this post on you, and every failure I have ever had! You shot a young mans confidence down like the Hindenburg.) Or maybe I should have know when I tried out for a JC football team and got cut.

My day of reckoning came in the form of saved legged, sleeveless shirt, pretty boy. It was just a simple three and three game the other afternoon, but it soon turned into a school for the under privileged, that being me. It didn't matter what I did, this kid carved me up like a thanksgiving turkey. What made it worse is that he had his girlfriend watching... and cheering. Here I was, on an island, with some random dude humiliating me in front of my buddies, The People and Mowgli, and his smoking hot girlfriend clapping. It was a tortuous hell. To some degree, I now know what water boarding feels like*. After we lost the third game 15 - 5**, he walked off, hand in hand with his girl, and didn't even look back. My head was still reeling when I had an epiphany. I am just average. Simply put, I am sub par. I was so bothered, that I debated whether or not to burn every piece of basketball gear when I got home. That bitter taste didn't ebb away until the sun rose, my wounds were healing, and I realized that there is obviously much more to life than sports. I went from one paradigm shift to another in a matter of hours.

For every success there are a thousand failures. I am sure glad that my future doesn't rely on playing basketball. That being said, I sure hope it isn't indicative of what is to come - being washed-up. So, in a way, I've accepted that I suck and will no longer try hard at things that I am not an expert at***.

* No. No I do not. I have no clue.
** I didn't win a single game that afternoon. 0-4.
***Any suggestions?