Blink and You'll Miss It

The end of a long road . . . and the beginning of another.

2007-10-02T11:09:00.000-04:00

So, I just received an e-mail from a friend today who's finally, after 5 years of writing, revising, hoping, praying, worrying, thinking, and praying some more, having his book published. What's more, he's having all three of his books published (he wrote a trilogy) and getting paid a nice advance for the work. Wow. Congrats to you, BW, and more importantly, how cool has God been throughout this whole process? He'll be the first to tell you that the process I described above resulted in success mainly because of steps four and seven.

I've been with him, albeit in a small way, on the journey, mainly through supportive e-mails and prayer. I think one of the best benefits of prayer, especially in situations like this where you're praying for something good to happen for a friend for a long time, and you wait and wait and wait for that good result to come, is that when God finally does come through, you can react to the news of His faithfulness with joy unalloyed by any hint of baser emotions.

I've found, in myself, that sometimes there's a tiny hint of jealously when a friend or relative succeeds. It's an unworthy emotion, I know, but it's there all the same. It doesn't happen in all cases, by any means, so feel free to keep telling me of your successes. What's more, I haven't narrowed down what the root cause of it is. Is there a word for jealousy at someone's success? It seems like there should be.

Anyway, when you pray with and for someone to succeed, I think that you invest a small part of yourself in that person and in their goal. Therefore, when they succeed, when God comes through in a miraculous or mundane way, it's as if you've succeeded along with them, and you can share in theire joy fully. BW, I'm proud of you, proud that you stayed faithful, and glad that I was able to come along with you, at least in a tiny way, and share in your success.

A red-letter day

2007-09-18T21:18:00.001-04:00

In light of today's auspicious occasion, I thought I'd regale you with a tale or two from my youth.

What stands out to me most about my father is not just one occasion, but all sorts of little ones that, piled one on top of another, create a palimpsest of joy that is the hallmark of any happy childhood. One time when we were driving somewhere--I think it was on the freeway that heads south out of Riverside to Palm Springs. We were together, planning to meet my mom, sister and brother who were already at our destination. That whole ride down, my mind was alive with questions, from wondering about sharks and jellyfish to various internal organs, to astronomy and space. Dad had an answer for every one of those questions, usually one that made me think even harder, but what's more, I remember thinking how great it was that he was listening to me--not just what I was saying, but to me, his son.

Dad would always be the one to wipe off all of the counters in our house, polishing them until I could see my reflection in the surface. He never complained, and still doesn't, about working incredibly long hours at a job packed with responsibility and unhappy people. He would go out into the snow with us and toss snowballs, and he always wore that black sweater with the flourescent green chevrons on the front when we went skiing. Dad never got sick, he never got uncontrollably angry, and he was never, ever ticklish--no matter how hard Bobbi and I tried to make him laugh.

As I raise my daughter, I think back to the gift my father has given me--an example of how to be a role-model, confidante, authority figure, and friend, all in just the right proportions and at just the right times in my life. Happy birthday, Dad.

The weather feels . . . Hillsdale-y

2007-09-11T16:20:00.000-04:00

So walking outside this morning to replace the cover on the grill from last night, I had a distinct sense of nostalgia. The rainy cold weather, the snap in the air--all of it took me back to my college days. I've probably written about this before, but the powerful associations with Hillsdale and fall in the Midwest will probably stick with me the rest of my life, at least until Evie's old enough to go back to school.

Instead of getting in the car and going to work, the weather tells me I should be waking up at 9:55, heading to a Victorian Lit. class captained by a disturbingly cheerful Sunny D. Instead of figuring out my time sheets, the cold air tells me I should be figuring out how to cut Falke's latest article by 15 words so it fits on the page. Instead of tapping away at a keyboard blogging, I should be pounding away at an N64 controller, Mario Karting.

There is one silver lining in all of this, though it does have a trailer of a black cloud attached: I'll be going up to Homecoming this year, staying with a good friend and trying hard not to let the nostalgia overwhelm me further. For those of you who can't be there, I'll be your eyes and ears, blogging about significant and less-significant events that will be taking place. And for those of you who can be there, let's get together and relive the memories together.

Blogging on blogging

2007-09-10T16:52:00.000-04:00

You know, I think I've revealed a funadamental truth about myself when it comes to blogging, and that truth is: my life is fairly regular, safe and predicatable. It's unfortunate that those words hold a perjorative sense, but hey, I'm stuck with English for now, thanks to lazing about in Japan for 9 months instead of dilligently studying kanji like my friend Tony no doubt is right now. I think that the sameness of the days contributes to the feeling that nothing is really changing, when in reality (now that I think about it a little deeper), things are changing around me all the time.

Take Evie, for instance (a subject I can't get very far away from). Just two weeks ago, she had lots of words, but rarely, if ever, said more than one at a time. Nowadays, she's stringing two and three words together, and most certainly can understand almost everything said to her, as well as, I suspect, much of what's said around her.

Or, take my work, where the crush of tasks to be done continues to pile up, as usual. Things can be going along swimmingly for awhile, creating the illusion of regularity I mentioned earlier, then Bam! People leave, new ones come, clients leave, clients sign on with us, etc. etc.

I forget the thinker who came up with the concept of "Punctuated Equilibrium," but I think that, no matter what you think about evolution, the idea can be applied to everyday life as well. The basic theory, as I understand it, comes from evolution, where instead of a slow, gradual change in a species, resulting in a fox slowly changing into a wolf, for example, evolutionary change happens very rapidly and is punctuated by a catastrophic change in conditions. Thus, you can have a fossil record of trilobytes stretching back for hundreds of thousands of years, and then, in a century or two, they're all gone--either they evolved into something else or they're extinct.

Life seems to move in the same way---lots of stability punctuated by fierce bursts of rapid change. My only wonder is, when and how will my life change in the same way?

On Seeing Dr. Arrnn again

2007-09-06T11:22:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, though a monster day at work, Megan and I made time to attend a Hillsdale reception hosted practically in my own backyard. This marked the first time I was able to attend one of these functions, although I have attended similar "Hillsdale events" back in the day, including "THE Hillsdale Event," the inauguration of Larry P. Arrrrrrrrnn and the subsequent initiation/christening of the Good Ship Hillsdale.

That was a night to remember. The College went all out, setting up a giant pavilion in the Quad, putting in A/C and false floors and transforming my humble Ultimate pitch into a rough approximation of a convention center ballroom, or the deck of a sailing ship. Drinks, both alcoholic and non-, flowed freely as the Captain doubled our daily ration of spirits for this occasion. SAGA outdid itself with bacon-wrapped filet and the biggest shrimp I've ever laid my oxymoronic eyes on. After speechifying, a band played and my girlfriend (now my wife) and I danced the night away in the soft summer evening.

The reception certainy echoed that initial inauguration--say what you will about the Captain, but at least he throws a decent shindig. Probably the high point of the evening, aside from seeing old friends and professors again (Dr. Conner is looking particularly well), was a brief conversation my wife and I had with the Captain himself. He was very complimentary, particularly of the old gang of miscreants and malcontents that I used to run around with (we called ourselves the "BackPage Staff" then). Dr. Arrrrrn even went so far as to say that he learned a lot from how we treated him, the Administration, and even the rules of the College itself, and paid us the very flattering compliment that he used our example as his model for student engagement at the College in the present day.

If that's the case, where's the Backpage? What happened to the funny?

Oh well. My wife and I both left invigorated, reminded of just how special a place Hillsdale is, and particuarly how special the people there are.

Greenish-pale thoughts

2007-09-04T09:22:00.000-04:00

So I've been sick lately--spent most of Sunday in a chair at my wife's grandmother's trying to trick my body into sleeping so I wouldn't have to experience the feeling of losing last night's dinner, or what was left of it, again. And again. And again. Although it might seem like I only write in this blog when I'm sick or guilty, I want you to know that that's not the case. I also write in this blog when I don't have much to do at work, which lately hasn't been often.

That also contributes to why I'm writing today. Something I'm starting to realize is that I (I won't presume to speak for you, or even my fellow americans) have a slightly overblown sense of my own importance to the place where I work. Living in Japan, and talking to Europeans when there, made me realize that this is not a common attitude worldwide, though it is a common one, I've observed, in Americans. I'm at work today, despite a recent recurrence of the symptoms from Sunday, and so this sense of the importance of my work is much on my mind right now.

Is it something you've observed in yourself as well? Do you feel like you have to be at work, or at least know what's going on there, 24/7 or 24/5 as the case may be? In my case, I think it was something ingrained in me when I was little--I was the kid that always wanted to go to school, and would pretend to be better than I was in order to go. My sister had a much more sensible attitude--when my Mom took time off work, she would conveniently be "sick" until it was too late in the day for her to go to school, and then she'd pop up, cured and ready to spend the day with her mommy. Maybe this sense comes from being the first, and theoretically, most responsible child, I don't know.

I just know that I think I'm going to go home early today--right after this important meeting with my colleague.

Guilt-free writing

2007-08-31T09:25:00.001-04:00

Sometimes I think the purpose of a blog is to be made to feel guilty by one's friends. If that's true, then it's certainly working well in my case, although I'm sure they can't complain because their snarky comments have resulted in another blog post. Seriously though, thanks for the prodding (good natured, I hope!) and pushing to keep up with this thing. It's too bad I can't make any money off of "blog posts apologizing for not writing." The problem is, they're too common.

The other difficult thing about blogging is that the big things--work, family, recreation--seem to change very slowly, or not at all, now that I'm settled into married life. Of course, as soon as I typed that sentence, I realized how false it was, as Evie's growing and changing faster than I can keep up. Didn't someone once say that one of the main benefits of children is keeping you young?

Nowadays, she's walking and talking, when she isn't running and crying, that is. She's made the full transition from " helpless bundle of needs and wants" to "bundle of needs and wants that can sometimes fulfill its own needs and wants." She's become a little person instead of a little thing, and her personality is starting to show. Luckily for us, it appears we've lucked into a very sweet, very smart person.

In terms of developmental milestones, for those of you keeping track (Hi Mom!), she can string words together--like "Too Bright!" or "Read Snowflakes!"--as well as pick up and remember new words in a jiffy. She's started to request using the potty, although this is sporadic at best, and the main reason she requests it is to use the toilet paper and throw it in the pot. She loves having "Medicine" put on her ouchies, of which there are plenty, and has started to show an aversion to bathing. Her brown eyes sparkle with intelligence, when you can see them underneath a fierce mop of light brown curls (we have yet to cut her hair).

As for me and Meg, well, that's the subject for another post. Thanks for reading, and for your patience.

Updates

2007-06-07T09:13:00.001-04:00

Sorry for the fall off in blog production. A number of family issues, one of which I'll tell you about shortly, kept me away from the computer. That, and indolence, laziness, business, whatever you want to call it. Thanks for the encouragement, Hack, to post--I'll try not to let June go by without posting more than once.

So the other Monday (Memorial Day) we were returning home from a trip to G-ma Fouts' farm, where we had spent the weekend. A peaceful place with waving corn, country roads, and comfort food, we were returning from the trip happy, satisfied, and slightly early in the afternoon, ready to do a bit of light gardening and visiting Linda and Ed for Budnt cake before putting the babycakes to bed. Well, that was the plan, anyway.

The reality was, I found myself in bed with incredible stomach pain. My best analogy for the pain would be if a 98-lb weakling was punching me lightly and repeatedly in the stomach, and then that weakling slowly started to gain muscle mass until he was as powerful as Mike Tyson in his prime and just as crazy (he is punching me in the stomach for no reason, after all). And for the medically inclined out there, he wasn't focusing on just one area, but working the whole abdomen.

So I tried to soldier through it at first, laying on the floor while Evie played on me and Megan folded laundry. Tried to get some rest in bed while the two of them went to eat that Bundt cake. Tried to take my mind off of it by playing a video game (Puzzle Quest, an RPG-Puzzle game where Bejeweled is the main engine). Eventually, I called my parents to ask for advice, and, alarmingly enough, they recommended an immediate trip to the Emergency Room.

By this time, the 98-lb weakling had worked his way up to middleweight class. I climbed into the car, Megan zoomed off, and we were on our way to the ER at Lutheran Hospital. By this time, it was 8 p.m. and I still had an article to finish up for Play Magazine that was due that night. After the preliminaries, they took me back to a room and I proceeded to writhe and groan while a nurse with tiny eyebrows stuck me first in one arm, then the other when my right arm veins decided they didn't want to be an IV site after all. After we were left in relative peace, I dictated the rest of my article to Megan, who relayed it to Linda, who proofread and e-mailed the article to my editor. Free to suffer in peace, Megan and I spent the next 7 hours waiting to be x-rayed and CAT scanned, and for a doctor to come and examine me. Thankfully, nurses with syringes of powerful painkillers made the wait much less painful, though not less fearful.

I was semi-coherent during this time. After the first shot of morphine, the pain subsided enough to let me sleep, then after the first scan they needed me to drink some stuff that would help my internal organs show up better. That brought the pain back on again, and another shot of morphine. After the second scan, the doctor said that they had ruled out any of the emergency causes of the pain (appendix, kidney stones, gall stones, etc) and that, since I was feeling better, they were going to discharge me and give me a perscription for Vicodin. When I asked about the pain, they said that I should take the Vicodin if in pain and see my family doctor ASAP for a referral to a GI specialist.

Somewhat disheartened, but mostly just tired, we went home at 4 a.m., woke Linda up and sent her home, and I rested for two days waiting for the pain to come back, which it never did. I still have the bottle of Vicodin, and a new appreciation for what Megan went through with Evie.

Oh, and my editor decided not to use the article. Good times.

A photo

2007-04-27T20:42:00.000-04:00

Here's Evie in her favorite sweater at the playground. She's 13 months. Notice the tiny balls on her sweater--she loves to put them in her mouth, and will carry the sweater around with her even when she's not wearing it.

She's trying to put her finger in a little hole, by the way.

Quick hits

2007-04-27T20:33:00.000-04:00

--So I'm completely, utterly enraptured by an online game known as Warfish recently. The game itself isn't much to speak of, it's mainly the chance to interact with friends like JS, ND, and even RD and CR. An online version of RISK, Warfish lets you play Risk at a distance with your friends. Turns aren't played concurrently, and they don't have to be played while anyone else is online, but sometimes, when JS, ND and I are all on at the same time, it can almost seem live, but you have to refresh your browser window in order to be able to see if anyone has moved yet. Sometimes I have to restrict myself from hitting that refresh button, just so that I can get some actual work done.

--For those of you following along, it's been almost a month since I've posted. Along with flagging discipline comes a healthy dose of guilt--credit my wife with getting me out of this funk and back into blogging, even if it's just, in her words, a short post.

--Evie's doing well. Her number of new words increases daily. Lately, she's taken to counting, even though she's not sure what she's doing, what she's counting, or even how to say the numbers properly. It is, as you'd imagine, very very cute. I'll have to see if I can get one of her most recent pictures up here on the blog. I'll try it in a post right after this one.

--If you're a praying sort (and I know a lot of you are), please keep us in mind when you talk to the Big Fella. Nothing major going on, but we're between churches right now, and are wandering in the wilderness as we attempt to find one.

--And that's a wrap!

A quick Evie story

2007-04-02T17:35:00.000-04:00

So my daughter has just started figuring out how to control the sounds coming out of her mouth. She's the proud owner of several words: Mama, Dada, Baby (her first!), Baa (ball), Up (usually said in a whiny tone) and, her favorite, No. She loves putting a "b" sound in front of many other words. Thus, "Grapes" becomes "Bapes," "Cups" becomes "Beps," etc. etc.

One of our friends gave Evie a musical toy for her birthday in February--Lulu the Word-Spinning Spider. Lulu's pretty cool--she'll play a guessing game with her charges where your baby's tasked with trying to figure out what word she's spinning via a small light display on her tummy. Lulu will also walk you through each of the letters of the alphabet as you pat her tummy, or, in what's Evie's favorite move, she'll sing the entire alphabet song.

Evie loves music, and has begun singing along to some of her favorite lullabies. The other day, when we patted Lulu's tummy and she sang the alphabet song, Evie started to sing along. It went something like this: "Bee, bee, bee, bee, bee, bee, beeeee."

Basically every letter was a B--ya gotta love that.

Marketing . . . myself

2007-03-30T15:15:00.000-04:00

Well, sorry for the lack of posts. In my defense, I've been busy delving into my sister's time sink of choice, Facebook, in the last couple of weeks. It's a nice way to share and show photos, info, etc. without the hassle of Picasa, Flickr, or whatever else I would need to sign up to use in order to post them here on the blog. So, check me out on Facebook for pictures, and continue coming here for random reviews, musings, etc.

In the category of musings, I find that my life has been somewhat taken over by a fun little Beta program called Warfish. Basically an online, very simple version of Risk, the game's free to play and allows me to test my mettle against two of my bestest friends, J and N. Sadly, our first foray into Warfish resulted in an early exit for me, but I can attest to the fun of playing the game against actual human beings rather than the computer I spend my time playing against in games that I review. I can actually remember getting the shakes as I was about to start one of my endgame turns--it was that fun. That was actually the turn where everything went south--a big gamble I took didn't pan out, and N ended up taking the game. So if you see an invitation to Warfish.net from me, accept it and let's play a friendly game.

Long week

2007-03-23T17:50:00.000-04:00

Man, what a week. From client emergencies to late nights, this was one of the longest weeks on record. Not to complain or anything (because it's sure better to be busy than the alternative), but just to share with you my state of mind as I type away here for the next 4:30 or so.

I think I'm going to focus more on telling stories on this little blog of mine. I went to a presentation of a woman from The Radio Ranch the other day (yesterday) who talked about how marketing these days needs to be emotional, not just reasonable. She cited numerous examples of how creating these emotional ads helped get better results for clients, appealed to potential customers, etc. etc.

I wanted to ask her what to do with the individual who wants nothing to do with emotion, but instead wants to cram a list of features into a 2 x 4 inch newspaper square, or :30 seconds of radio time. I mean, we all have to eat, don't we, and since the client is footing the bill, it pays (pun intended) to listen to what they want instead of telling them that they're stupid and that their advertising won't work. I dunno--the client management part of my job is certainly the hardest part, and I speak of managing internal and external clients here.

So to finish up my story, I raised my hand, but she chose to answer someone else's question and I didn't have a chance to ask it in person. Oh well--I'm not sure she would have had a good answer for me anyway.

2 books, 2 weeks

2007-03-22T20:00:00.000-04:00

Just finished two books in the last two weeks: The Life of Pi and The Tragedy of the Whaleship Essex. One's true, one's not, both deal with folks getting shipwrecked and having to subsist in extremely harsh conditions. And I enjoyed both immensely, but for different reasons.

The Life of Pi is lyrical, prosaic. It attempts to place the narrator's suffering in a philosophical context. As such, it takes on (at times) the feel of a Gabriel Garcia Marquez novel, usually when its protagonist, Pi, is undergoing the harshest suffering. Told from the perspective of someone looking back on their ordeal, there's no surprise that Pi survives the wreck. Rather, the surprise is that he survives with so much of his humanity intact, particularly when he survived on the same boat as a 500 lb. Bengal tiger for 200-odd days.

Essex, which is a true story, takes a more historical approach. Exhastively researched and entertainingly told, it's not just the story of a shipwreck, but also a lens into life on the island of Nantucket in the 1700s and 1800s. Philbrick (the author) clearly and cleanly lays out the story, drawing logical conclusions on what the men were most likely thinking and feeling from the time the boarded the ship, through their harrowing ordeal across the Pacific, and after they make it back to their community.

I highly recommend both books.

In other news, I'm open to suggestions for my next book--feel free to post your recommendations as comments.

Hopes and Dreams

2007-03-16T15:11:00.000-04:00

Go Fla., Kans., G'Town., A&M!

Just got a call from a couple friends and a family member of mine (I swear I'm not making this up) who are in a bar, enjoying all of the games, and wondering where I am. As I told them, I'm at the same place I was last year--stuck at work and staring at a computer screen.

Let's not let this happen again next year, shall we, future Billy?

It's March, so get MAD!

2007-03-07T16:34:00.000-05:00

Really looking forward to March Madness this year. It's an annual tradition here at my office--we get everyone in the office (and some who aren't) to fill out a bracket, and post them all on my wall. Then, as the games are played, my friend Mark and I highlight the winners and award points based on rounds, so for round 1, you get 1 point for a correct pick, round 2, 2 points, etc. You get the idea.

Last year's bracket was an absolute mess (thank you very much, George Mason). I think the contest came down to the 15-year-old daughter of one of our staff, and a former college basketball player who fancied himself an "expert" on the game. Needless to say, the 15-year-old ended up winning the whole shebang.

So as not to give anything away (to my Hillsdale friends who read this blog, despite the intermittent updates), I won't be posting my picks or even my leanings here until after the tournament has already started. Sorry. But feel free to post your picks in my comments section!

The Answers

2007-03-06T00:31:00.000-05:00

Ok, here are the answers to my previous contest--looks like we had no winners this time. I'll also disclose (because I'm sure you're dying to know) which of these I've read and which I've just . . . skimmed.

Molly (Ulysses--skimmed)
Scout (To Kill a Mockingbird--read)
Benjy (The Sound and the Fury--read)
Ralph (Lord of the Flies--read)
Humbert Humbert (Lolita--skimmed, felt scummy after skimming)
Tom J. (Grapes of Wrath--read)
Daisy (The Great Gatsby--read)
(NO idea--haven't read Beloved) (Beloved--haven't read, probably won't after reading Jess' comment)
Caufield (Catcher in the Rye--read)
Big Bro (1984--skimmed, liked Animal Farm better)

Stay tuned for future contests! Someone'll win that no-prize yet!

Wicked!

2007-03-02T19:39:00.000-05:00

An interesting exploration of the nature and root of evil, Wicked sets out some interesting characters and a well-defined setting, but eventually collapses under its own weight, melting away without much fanfare. The story of Elphaba, aka the Wicked Witch of the West, Wicked follows in the tradition of books like For Love of Evil or the one about the three little pigs told from the wolf's perspective--only it's much better written. Maguire avoids an easy hole to fall into right from the start by not telling the story entirely from the witch's perspective.

By doing so, he lets us see his most compelling character, Elphaba, that much more clearly. The Witch--complex, driven without knowing why and uncompromising without knowing what she believes in--commands your attention from the very first. Born with green skin and sharp teeth to a missionary family in Munchkinland, Elphaba seems marked from the very first to stand out. The story traces the rise of the Witch: her short, unhappy childhood; her days at an academy for girls spent studying biology from a garroulous Goat; her battle against the Wizard of Oz and his secret police; and her eventual destruction at the hands of an apple-cheeked girl from Kansas.

Along the way, we learn that she and Glinda, the "good" witch of the North, were actually friends at the academy--though at first Glinda spurns Elphaba because of her poor upbringing and sharp wit. We meet Nessarose, the Witch's sister, last seen wearing the ruby slippers underneath Dorothy's house, and find that she's actually a pious, upright, and moral person, with no arms. And we discover why and how the Witch came to be, and about her relationship with the Wizard of Oz and the Emerald City.

The best part of this novel is seeing how skillfully Maguire brings the land of Oz to life, infusing it with culture and character and populating it with all sorts of interesting folk. There are depths to Oz that the movie only hints at, at least to Maguire's fertile imagination. It's an interesting excercise in world building, something that's remarkably difficult to do for even the best authors. That Maguire has created something new out of Baum's novels is all the more remarkable.

Where the book suffers the most is in the uneven pacing of its plot. An inordinate amount of time is spent on minor characters, and particularly on Elphaba's time at the girls academy. By the time she actually moves out west and sets up shop, you're wondering how the story can be brought to an appropriate close because it quickly becomes clear that there's a lot of story left to be told and too few pages to do it in. Sadly, this turns out to be the case--the ending feels rushed and the book unfinished, almost as if a publisher, tired of waiting for the book, simply demanded that Maguire finish the book or return his advance.

Perhaps the musical was better. Any thoughts?

Musings

2007-03-01T17:21:00.000-05:00

Glad to see people are starting to come back and read this. That started me thinking about the point of a blog. All of the marketing literature/white papers that I have read have talked about how you can use your blog to make money (via selling adspace through Google's AdSense program) but you have to have A+ content and a committment to posting. Also, the conventional wisdom about the Internet is that bloggers are like a pack of rabid journalists with instant access to the hearts and minds of loyal readers. Apparently, we're the new creators of myth, rumor, and the occasional grain of truth that spreads around the 'Net in waves. And then you have my view, which is that blogging is really just a way of sharing your thoughts with whomever might be willing to listen, be they friend or stranger.

I don't know . . . what do you think? Why do you blog? Is it for fun? Profit? Both? And is it meeting your expectations?

For me, this has been a lot more work and anxiety than I ever expected, a great example of how a seemingly simple committment can balloon into something much larger than you ever imagined. Granted, my committment to the blog is largely internal--I'm not selling anything, and I have yet to break a legitimate news story. But something in me doesn't like starting something and not finishing it, especially since you, my readers, presumably want to hear what I have to say.

Anyway, sorry for the rambling nature of this post. Hope it sparked some thoughts in you, at least.

Bonkers

2007-02-28T17:33:00.000-05:00

Wow, it looks like I have even fewer readers than I thought--or maybe just fewer readers than I thought with literary pretensions. I'll leave it up for a couple more days, just to see if there are any stragglers out there, and give you the answers next week.

In the meantime, why don't I tell you a quick story about Evelyn. She's started to really figure out how this world works in the past few weeks. From walking, to putting things inside of other things, to refusing to eat certain foods at certain times (I don't think there's a food out there that she's consistently refused, except for the "meat" baby food. After tasting those items, I can understand why). We'll often find things where we didn't expect them, like a screwdriver in the refrigerator, or a stuffed animal in one of our pots. And of course, getting into the bathtub can be quite an adventure as well, just because we're never sure what might actually be in there.

The other day, Megan and I were having a conversation about, oh, I don't know what. Evelyn, as is her wont, decided that she needed either or both of our attention right then. And I mean, RIGHT THEN. She didn't take kindly to our admonishment to wait a few seconds, seeing as she doesn't understand the concept of time and all, and so decided to get our attention in a more forceful manner. She walked over to our bathroom cabinet, stood extremely close to it, and bumped her head gently into it. And by gently, I mean VERY gently--I don't think it would have bruised an overripe avocado. Then, she turned to us and cried, loudly, as if saying, "see what happens when you don't pay attention to me? I bump my head and get hurt!"

Megan and I were both trying not to laugh at this point, and needless to say, Evie got what she wanted--our attention. Since then, she's done it a couple more times, never hitting her head hard, but just enough to pretend that she's hurt. Ah, parenting. . .

Literary Contest

2007-02-26T17:29:00.000-05:00

Geez, I didn't know it had been so long since I've posted. Apologies to my loyal readers (both of you--thanks Mom and Dad!) Work has been blowing up lately with projects, I'm inundated with writing claptrap, and Fort Wayne has been alternately buried in snow, then ice, but I'm sure you're not interested in excuses, gentle reader, only results.

Had an interesting e-mail from my friend Davis the other day. It listed the top 50 American Novels of the 20th century, according to Radcliffe Publishing (I think--too lazy to check the e-mail right now). Topping the list was The Great Gatsby, by Fitgerald, and rounding out the top ten were books like (ok, now I'm checking) Catcher in the Rye, Grapes of Wrath, and the Sound and the Fury.

Ok, here's an idea for you. I'll give you the names of the books and a character from the book. First one to post a comment matching the characters with the book title wins a "no-prize" (apologies to Marvel Magazine). I'm doing this w/o the help of Google, which means you can too, but of course, if you cheat, you'll be the only one who knows it. Well, you, and God. Enjoy!

Titles:
1. The Great Gatsby F. Scott Fitzgerald
2. The Catcher in the Rye J.D. Salinger
3. The Grapes of Wrath John Steinbeck
4. To Kill a Mockingbird Harper Lee
5. Ulysses James Joyce
6. Beloved Toni Morrison
7. Lord of the Flies William Golding
8. Nineteen Eighty Four George Orwell
9. The Sound and the Fury William Faulkner
10. Lolita Vladimir Nabokov

Characters (Done from memory!!!!)

Molly
Scout
Benjy
Ralph
Humbert Humbert
Tom J.
Daisy
(NO idea--haven't read Beloved)
Caufield
Big Bro

Good luck!

Birthday bliss

2007-02-20T17:31:00.000-05:00

Well, we had a wonderful little shindig--pictures to be posted when I can get around to it. Preparations started Friday (Evie's actual birthday) as Megan started cooking and baking for the party itself, which was Saturday. Ham loaf was on the menu (tastes much better than it sounds . . . MUCH better) as well as other fixin's, and Megan decided to make one of those "theme cakes." You know, the ones in the shape of a Care Bear or Pikachu or something similar. Megan decided to do one in the shape of a train, which sounded simple enough.

Well, it wasn't.

After borrowing the molds from a friend, Megan baked the cake itself Friday, and started icing the thing Saturday morning. Two hours later, she was finally finished with it. Sporting Evie's name, a gumdrop coal car, and chocolate sprinkle wheels, the cake was a thing of beauty, befitting a first birthday of a first child, I think. What took the most time was the painstaking process of creating tiny icing "stars" that covered the sides of the cake. Instead of just slathering the icing on, the space had to be filled with little drops of icing, done one at a time. The effect, though painstaking, resembles impressionistic painting, a sort of "Seurat pastry," if you will. After all of that, it took Evie about 5 seconds to get her hands into the cake, an additional 2 seconds for her to discover that it tasted really good, and then about 10 seconds before she had the rest of it on her hands, face, lap, and parents. Good times.

Thanks for all of the birthday wishes. Lucas, if this blog is still around when she can read, you can bet I'll be looking up your comment and showing it to her.

Next time: Marketing Musings

Happy Birthday, Evie!

2007-02-16T14:57:00.000-05:00

Today is my first daughter's first birthday. I remember around this time last year, when Megan and I had lunch at a local restaurant on Valentine's Day, and then went in to the hosptial for her induction. At this point, Evie was two weeks late, and according to the prevailing medical wisdom, the womb becomes a hostile place for a baby after about two weeks or so. On the advice of our physician, then, we checked in to DuPont Hospital in order to start the long, painful (for Megan, especially) process of labor.

Two days of increasingly painful contractions later, a different doctor (not our physician, but a very nice lady) recommended a C-section due to failure to progress. At that point, we felt as if we had come that far, we might as well finish the process, so we agreed to the C-section, and not 20 minutes later, I got to see Evelyn's face for the first time.

She was a pretty big baby, weighing in at a massive 10 lbs., 8 oz, with the chubbiest cheeks you'd ever seen. Holding her for the first time, standing in the corridor outside the OR while they finished taking care of Megan, I don't remember feeling much at all, except relief that both the baby and Megan were okay.

One year later, I feel like things have finally started to sink in. Evelyn's life, her views, her character, her memories of growing up--many of those things are directly or indirectly going to be influenced by our parenting and the type of home we give Evie. My prayer is that her childhood is a happy, stable one and that she grows up knowing and valuing the things that are truly important in life, particularly a relationship with God in the person of Jesus Christ.

But that's all for the future, right?

For now, we've got a birthday party planned for tomorrow--I'll try to post pics here on the blog. If you have any birthday wishes or comments, I'll pass them along, though it seems most likely that they won't have much of an impact on her yet, seeing as how she can only say about 20 words or so. More on her party on Monday!

Simpsons Characters a-go-go

2007-02-12T17:29:00.000-05:00

Considering the Simpsons, there are a wealth of characters from which to choose a favorite. Homer is probably the favorite of many--it's hard these days to see how/why Bart became so popular so quickly, as Homer has eclipsed Bart in both funny lines and in depth of character. I think it's a little too difficult to come up with an actual favorite character for me--I'm going to have to give you my top three, with little explanations (hey, I've only got 5 minutes here) as to why they're my favorite.

3. Nelson Muntz: From his relentless "haw-haw," tinged with a touch of pathos and smothered with a generous helping of derision, to his curiously cool jean jacket and short, short pants, Nelson can always be counted on to deliver the goods.

2. Mr. Burns: Surprisingly humane at times, devilishly evil at others, Mr. Burns represents a tragic figure, at least in his own mind. The rest of the town just wished he'd go away.

1. Homer: A real struggle to put him here, as I was thinking of going with a "chic" pick like Lyle Langley or Lionel Hutz. However, his mix of humanity and stupidity (some would argue they're the same thing) paint Homer as a curiously existential everyman, both scorned and embraced by this mixed-up world of ours. Homer, ours is indeed a disturbing universe.

The Simpsonzu by *spacecoyote on deviantART

2007-02-09T16:41:00.000-05:00

First off, check out this link:

The Simpsonzu by *spacecoyote on deviantART

Anyone who knows me knows I'm a huge fan of both The Simpsons and japanese animation. I think that the artist, Space Coyote, did an excellent job of putting The Simpsons into an anime format. It puts me in the mind of (heh, I just like saying "puts me in the mind of") the episode where Homer gets a peek at what his kids would look like if they were drawn . . . normally. You know, with five fingers and hair that actually separated instead of hair that looked like a starfish and paper bag edge.

Anyway, I hope you at least clicked on the link, and I apologize for not doing my 5-minute update every day. I have a feeling I'll be apologizing a lot, but that would be throwing in the towel before I even begin, so I'll try to fight that feeling and instead, move on to my weekend with a light heart.

By the way, who's your favorite Simpsons character? I'll give my answer in my next post.

Next time: Simpsons Characters A-Go-Go

Further thoughts

2007-02-06T22:26:00.000-05:00

Sorry for the lateness of this post.

In terms of further thoughts on Hillsdale Homecoming, I think the first word that comes to mind (or words, in this case) is unfulfilled potential. The weekend seemed to hold so much promise, and yet (though it did deliver lots of grins and good times) it felt like it fell curiously short of its potential. None of the blame for this is due to my friends, who were magnificient as they always are, nor does it fall at the feet of the great Hillsdale College, unless you want to count the cotton candy. The reasons for the disappointment were primarily internal--you really can't go home again.

Walknig the campus of Hillsdale, I expected to be suffused with a powerful sense of nostalgia, of longing for days past. That was certainly my experience during my few visits back to the place--for a moment, on a fall day, I could almost believe that my whole college life was stretching out in front of me once again, with all of its ups and downs (mostly ups). The glint of the light on the leaves, the sound of the wind and the far off chiming of Central Hall, all conveyed a powerful sense of possibility. This sense would quickly fade as I remembered that those days were over and done with, that they would never come again, and that if I tried too hard to recapture them, I would only come across as pathetically as Will Ferrel in Old School, only with more clothes on and less funny.

None of that hit me on this latest trip. Perhaps it was because I've entered a new phase in my life, one that leaves little time for such reflections. It may be the case that I'm having such a good time now that I'm able to put those memories where they belong, in the past (but I doubt that's the case). Maybe it was the numerous changes at Hillsdale itself, as well as the feeling that all of the students seemed so young. Whatever it was, I didn't have that powerful nostalgia, and, as someone who likes to feel such things deeply, I almost missed it.

Almost.

Next time: Something I haven't thought of yet.

A short digression

2007-02-05T16:29:00.000-05:00

You gotta love this quote from Daily Wealth, one of the free Internet newsletters I subscribe to:

Right now, a Big Mac is more expensive in Argentina, Brazil, Colombia, and Mexico than in Japan. Big Macs are more expensive in Latvia, Estonia, and Lithuania than in Japan. They're more expensive in Turkey and Saudi Arabia. You have to dig as deep in the barrel as Pakistan to find a country where a Big Mac costs the same as it does in Japan. The Economist points out the big discrepancy in the current Big Mac prices: "'Perhaps the most telling numbers are those for the Japanese yen, which is 28% undervalued against the dollar, and the euro, which is 19% overvalued."

This certainly wasn't true when I lived out in Japan, though I always loved getting a Big Mac and fries whenever I could, which wasn't often as I lived out in the inaka (translation: boondocks). Part of it too was probably the fact that I could only get McDonald's when I was in Osaka, which usually meant I was visiting Joel, picking up family, or picking up my then-girlfriend, now wife, Megan.

Memory is a suprisingly powerful and surprisingly evanescent thing. To this day, getting a Big Mac evokes memories of a warm, well-lit restaurant tucked up under a concrete pillar, with windows facing outward onto the bus terminal where I would always go to either change buses to get to the airport, or to start the long walk to Joel's apartment. I'm sure if a marketing executive from McDonald's were reading this, he'd be be cackling with glee. Evanescent because I can't recall a specific time when I went into a McDonalds and purchased a Big Mac--all I have is a foggy cloud of warmth, light, and saturated fats.

I'll wrap-up the Homecoming saga tomorrow.

A Day at the Game . . . continued

2007-02-02T16:55:00.000-05:00

After juggling some rocks and squinting in the late-morning sunlight, I finally beheld the welcome sight of my wife and young daughter driving up in our beat-up Camry. Lo and behold, Dan and Lisa Simpson, and their baby, Susan pulled in right next to Megan and Evie! Besides being terminally cute, Susan seems to have inheirited the calm disposition and gentle manners of both of her parents. It was both odd and deeply satisfying to see Susan and Evie interacting with each other, and certainly sent my the wheels of my brain spinning to think of them being friends in the future.

All of us together loaded up the caravan (there's certainly a lot more stuff when you have a baby!) and headed to the EAR to see what was left of the breakfast buffet. Apparently not much, as one of the alumni there said they saw Tony and Lucas roll through the breakfast table, cheerfully taking strawberries, cheese, and everything else they could pile on those little hors d'evours plates. One pleasant conversation with Dean Barker later, Megan, Evie and I were headed to the various alumni tents to meet up with the rest of the class of 2001, seeing as how it was our 5 year reunion and all.

Apparently, not many members of our class received the memo, because besides the group that Lucas was responsible for bringing, there were probably a total of maybe 7 other alumni there. Maybe it was the fact that for being a member of the class of 2006, all you get is a CD case with the Hillsdale logo on it, while the class of 1956 was getting engraved pens and such. Megan, Evie and I stayed for the first quarter or so of the game, but after Evie fell asleep on my shoulder, we decided to pack it in and let her sleep on the way home, slightly sunburned, but satisfied that a good time had been had by all.

Next time: Further thoughts and New Chapters

A Day at the Game

2007-01-31T17:05:00.000-05:00

After waking up feeling a little bit groggy and a lot dehydrated, I quickly showered and dressed before either of my compatriots could arise. Then it was off to the Alumni choir rehearsal, which was actually being held at the same time as a classic car show was being held in the parking lot. The alumni "choir" turned out to be about 10 alumni and about 100 Hillsdale choir students. After catching up with Jim Holleman, the director, I entered the room feeling just as itimidated as I did when I entered the room as a student. I don't consider myself a singer, or a musical person, really, and it's hard to shake the feeling that everyone in the room is not only a better singer than I am, but that the person sitting next to me (whoever that person is) is probably a singer on par with Pavoratti or Kelly Clarkston. Thankfully, smoking the one cigarette last night had left me hoarser than the Simpson house mother, and so I had no problem singing bass.

After the choir rehearsal, I felt a bit at loose ends, until I realized that I was supposed to meet my wife and daughter 10 minutes earlier at Central Hall. I dashed from the music building (I always forget its new name) to Central Hall, only to discover that the quad was deserted--it seemed as though they were running late.

Next time: A Day at the Game continued and further thoughts

Five seconds of Fury . . . continued

2007-01-30T17:00:00.000-05:00

After arriving at the de-facto Phi Mu Alpha house (not the renegade Mu Alpha house--I can't emphasize that enough), things settled down considerably. The remaining folks that were up--Jacob, me, Tony, J, Jason, and Carl--made for a pretty quiet bunch, sitting around playing on Jacob's ukelele and guitar, talking, and basically enjoying each other's company. Then, the unthinkable happened.

For a reason that defies my memory to this day, one of the members of our little group took offense at something another member of the group said, did--something. I wasn't privy to everything that happened before hand, but the results of this person's five seconds of fury were a veritable explosion of Coca-Cola all over our guests' couch, other people's pants, and naturally, the floor as well. Though apologies were quickly uttered, and the incident never progressed beyond the "pouring drinks on one another" stage, it still sits uneasily in my memory, like a fat man on a unicycle.

The incident drained what little spirit was left out of our little band, and we retired to a cold night and a warm bed in Simpson. Actually, it was more like a warm air mattress for me.

Next: A Day at the Game and Further Thoughts

Five seconds of fury

2007-01-29T16:56:00.000-05:00

After thouroughly saturating our clothes with the delightful smell of woodsmoke, Lucas, Tony and I returned to our apartment in Simpson, a squat, concrete block structure built sometime in the mid-1950s. Tony and I felt right at home in Simpson, and Lucas quickly made himself at home, declaring that he was "done" for the night. He promptly got ready and went to bed--a wise move on his part, but one that left Tony and me at loose ends.

We eventually decided to try to find the Phi Mu Alpha (NOT the squatters Mu Alpha house, frickin' renegades) house and see what we could see. Here I have to digress down memory lane a bit. On one of my first nights at Hillsdale college, as a wide-eyed freshman, I remember wandering the streets of Hillsdale late at night, trying to find a means to extend my evening with seven or eight guys I hardly knew, several of which were falling down drunk. One of the strongest impressions of that night for me was the curious sense of bootless freedom that pervaded the air, as if anything and everything could happen on a fall night like this one.

Fast forward seven years, where Tony and I were in the same state, minus the inebriation, natch, but wandering the streets of Hillsdale looking to see what the town had to offer us. Unfortunately for us, and for you, my readers, we didn't find anything exciting, or even very interesting. After drifiting vaguely south, we located the house with little difficulty, entered, and were shown around by an extremely polite young man, one of the new Phi Mu Alpha brothers whose name escapes me.

And, since I'm at the limit of time, this "five seconds of fury" will have to be continued tomorrow!

Next: Five Seconds of Fury . . . Continued and A Day at the Game

A Ten-Foot Tall Fire

2007-01-26T16:46:00.000-05:00

Apologies for the lateness of this post . . .

After dropping off our baggage at Simpson, with Lucas claiming the bed furthest from the door and me claiming the floor, we headed over to Whitley to pick up the rest of our entourage, only to be faced with the new house mother of Whitley, one Judith S., and her rapidly shrinking patience with her son, the Hon. J. We sorted out the fracas, and were greeted upon our exit with a vision--fireworks that were visible over the top of the Sage Center for the Arts. Hillsdale had certainly changed in the time I had been gone--they had never, ever had the wherewithal to launch fireworks before, not even when Arrrrrrn became pres. Surf and Turf in a giant tent on the quad, yes, but fireworks, no.

Instead of trying to get over to the field and see the 'works, we simply watched them from the lawn, then headed over when they were complete. What greeted us was a scene of well-organized chaos, with a crowd of folks who seemed like little children milling around a blaze that reached far up into the heavens. I could tell that I was getting old--the whole thing seemed loud and hot to me, rather than exciting and intimidating. After milling through the crowd several times, J and I managed to locate a cotton candy vendor, a young man who seemed more interested in chatting up the ladies at the popcorn next to us than getting us our free pink stuff.

After handing me a small stick, he turned once again to the popcorn ladies, putting the empty stick in his mouth in an attempt, no doubt, to look "cool." When J asked him for some cotton candy of his own, the young man took the stick out of his mouth , ran it around the inside of the machine several times, and handed it to J , never once stopping to look at us, acknowledge us--indeed, to even think about what he was doing.

J and I loooked at each other. "I can't believe I just saw that," I said. "Me either," said J , delicately taking a bite out of his candy. "I'll just eat the outside of this," J continued.

Re-rendesvouing with the group, Jacob decided that he wanted to sumo wrestle one of us. Always up to the challenge, I stepped into the dewey circle, only to be unceremoniously dumped on my kiester for the first fall. Must be that Samoan blood in Jacob--he was a deceptively strong wrestler! In the interests of full disclosure, I managed to take him down once or twice at the end, when he was tired--always a good strategy.

The party ended when the fire attendants began blasting the blaze with water, resulting in a pillar of smoke that would do the LORD proud. Tony finished up his interview with the Collegian, and we all headed back to our respective places, wondering what would happen next. Little did we realize the fury that awaited us. . .

Next: Five Seconds of Fury and A Day at the Game

Rolled Cigarettes

2007-01-25T09:59:00.000-05:00

After a satisfying meal, and a couple of even more satisfying games of pool, slight confusion ensued as to what would be happening next. Things get a little fuzzy for me at this point--we ended up heading over to the local market in order to get refreshments for our night on the town, but Lucas, Kim and many of the other folks from the Hunt Club headed somewhere else, leaving me, Tony, J and Allie to pick through the offerings at Broad Street Market.

Feeling curiously overdressed in the market, I settled for a SoBe and a small bottle of Bicardi, as well as 2-liter of Coke (a decision that would later prove disatarous for Tony) and the others got their beverages of choice. The SoBe was a classic choice, recommended by J --I had to wipe a tear of nostalgia from my eye as we paid for our purchases. Oh, and after I expressed to Tony the fact that I had never seen a rolled cigarette before, he immediately picked up a pack of what looked like chewing tobacco and some papers. Of course, we both didn't think to pick up any filters, the end result of which when I woke the next morning, I ended up sounding like a scratchier, hoarser version of James Earl Jones--perfect for singing bass in the alumni choir the next day. Yikes.

Thus fortified, we headed over to Niedfelt and Simpson to continue our journey back in time, and to see if Lucas would be joining us on our "fogies night out."

Next time: A Ten-Foot Tall Bonfire and Five Seconds . . . of Fury

Hunt Club Memories

2007-01-24T14:36:00.000-05:00

After a short journey through the rolling fields of Angola ("I promise guys, this way is faster than going through Coldwater!"), we arrived at downtown Hillsdale, ready to tuck in and enjoy a nice meal with other alums at the Hunt Club, a lcoal bar and grill. Actually, I've probably seen at least six or seven other Hunt Clubs since my time at Hillsdale (no affiliation with the Hillsdale one, by the way), and every time, I want to go into it and see if they have a giant stuffed fox over the bar and a sandwich called "The Dagwood."

Our little soiree turned out to be quite an affair. Lucas had managed to secure the entire upstairs of the little bar and grill for Hillsdale alumni, setting up two long tables facing the windows which looked out over the city square. Presiding at one of the tables was none other than the Reverend Dr. Reist, a character if I've ever met one and someone whom I wish had a blog of his own, even if it would primarily consist of weird quacks, photos of the various weddings he's attended/presided at, and serious discussion on the merits of Catholic theology and the evils of Catholic priestly celibacy. But I digress . . .

Fantastic as it was to see the good Doctor, because of our late arrival, Jacob, Tony and I were placed at the foot of the table in our own little corner. Various other Hillsdale alumni were there--if you want names and faces, you'll have to visit my good friend Lucas' blog. After ordering a pitcher of beer or two, our little group turned quite merry, eventually ending up with Tony, J, Jacob, and I playing pool while Lucas tried hard to stay awake and keep his supper down. The man did not look well, and he blamed it all on no sleep and a spotty cappucino. (Sorry for the bad spelling, but hey, I've only got five minutes to do this thing).

Next time: Rolled Cigarettes and a Ten-Foot Tall Bonfire

Five minutes of fame

2007-01-23T10:11:00.000-05:00

Ok, I've promised myself I'll spend five minutes a day updating this little blog, and see where it gets me. The clock is ticking . . .

Hope you like the new look. I've had to upgrade to keep up with the "Tonys" and "Lucases" of the world. If you don't like it, drop me a comment or something and I'll get busy ignoring you right away! Seriously though, if you see something egregious on this site (besides the delay in posting!) let me know and I'll try to make it better.

Ok, when I left you last year, I was promising an update about the Homecoming experience, version 2006. Well, after I eagerly packed up all of the stuff I would need for Homecoming (read: an extra shirt and pants, because you never know what Tony's going to borrow), I waited on the front porch to see which of my friends would be picking me up to cart me up to Hillsdale. Lo and behold, a battered little car with Massachusetts plates pulled up, carrying not one, not two, but three very good friends from college--albeit one of them was laying down in the back seat so I couldn't see him.

Yep, J, Tony and Jacob had arrived. After a quick tour of our house (still new to us, at that point), and after Tony made instant friends with my daughter by making weird faces at her and being really loud (little girls love Tony--insert your own joke here), we were off on a funky adventure, one that promised to be interesting, at worst, and downright criminal, at best.

Of course, as the people in the car had collectively already driven for the equivalent of at least 24 hours straight, I drove.

Next time: Hunt Club Memories and Rolled Cigarettes

New post coming soon

2006-12-04T10:30:00.000-05:00

Imagine a little man with a construction shovel working here. I'll have a new post, titled "Homecoming Adventures: The Billy Gray Story" in this space tonight or tomorrow.

Thanks for your patience.

sigh

2006-11-16T11:23:00.000-05:00

Too much writing these days. Too much by half.

Apologies to my three faithful fans about letting this little blog choke to death under a dusty pile of indifference. Not much has been going on in my life, at least not much worth reporting. That was my thought, initially, when I sat down to type this little missive. And yet, when I look back on the (yikes!) 2 months since I last posted, a lot has happened.

First, an Evie update for all of you family and friends--she's moved from the sitting up on her own, to the crawling, to the cruising (walking with the help of a (hopefully!) immovable object) stage. She still crawls a bunch--she's a fast little bugger--but she can get around quite well on her own two feet as well. Today (and this is the main reason for this little post) she took a little half step, on her own, for the first time ever. Wow! It's not going to be long before we're all chucking the frisbee at each other as a little family.

Oh, and she has two bottom teeth, smiles a whole bunch, and generally keeps Megan's life at home interesting. Speaking of the Megster, she's doing well. She's been reading a bunch, watching Evie, and generally taking great care of both her and me. What a wonderful gal.

As for me, I've been busy as well. Last week may have been a new record in terms of hours worked on a project--I think I averaged 11 to 12 hour days for four out of five days last week. Thankfully, the push to finish the project has been completed, and I'm more free to do other things, like post to my blog, for example. I've also managed to get some work published in Play magazine, a newsstand and online magazine covering video games, anime, and other assorted things that nerds love. If you'd like to read one of my articles, pick up the mag, or you can just click on the link if you're in Japan like Tony--or if you're just lazy or cheap.

http://www.playmagazine.com/index.php?fuseaction=SiteMain.showAnimePage&Anime_ID=125

I'll post other reviews as I get them approved by my editor for your reading pleasure.

Ok, next post--a brief history of the adventures at Hillsdale homecoming. Don't worry--it'll just be another month or so before that story gets told.

PS--I did finish that short story--let me get it edited and I'll put it up on the blog.

Hmm, Two weeks was generous

2006-08-22T16:59:00.000-04:00

I hate missing deadlines. And I use "hate" in the strongest possible terms, here. But unfortunately, I missed one--the deadline for that short story contest described in the last post. But, never fear! I will finish my story and you, my loyal reader (all six of you, seven now that MM's reading), will be the first ones to read it--I will publish it on my blog.

Until then, here's what you really want to see--pictures of my daughter, Evie!

She had her first solid food yesterday, cream of rice made with Similac formula. And guess what? It tastes as good as it sounds! Seriously though, you should see the picture after she took her first bite--she wasn't quite sure what to do with it. Eventually, she was able to eat, but she still licks the spoon's tip as though she were sucking it out of something.

Enjoy the pics!

BillG

Two weeks? Really?!?

2006-07-31T09:28:00.000-04:00

Has it really been two weeks since my last post? Ah well, I better put one up now, just so that I can continue to read my own writing. The last two weeks have been busy week--the battle of the bug, a flurry of paper, and getting stumped on a short story are the highlights.

The battle of the bug was more "bug" than "battle," actually. Last Saturday, as we were finishing up getting ready for bed, I was done with my toilette and was lying on the bed reading, while my wife was finishing up. Suddenly, I was jerked out of the world of George R.R. Martin by a loud gasp (I get the feeling it would have been a scream if our daughter weren't asleep upstairs). Sitting up immediately, I asked Megan what was wrong.

"Oh, just sit up and look," she said, stage left. I did so, and saw what could only be described as a hockey puck moving slowly across our carpeted floor. Thankfully, it was moving very slowly, and so my brain immediately realized that it couldn't be a cockroach. I approached the piece of sporting equipment carefully, a glass in hand. It was a bug, a black beetle with exceptionally long legs and a hard carapace. Moving nonchalantly across our rug, he seemed to be heading toward our closet--no doubt to commit suicide by hiding in a pair of my shoes (ok, they don't smell that bad, but still). We slipped a thin calendar under him, and placed him, and the glass, on our countertop to be dealt with on Sunday morning. That night, I couldn't get up without thinking I would step on something crunchy . . .

As for the flurry of paper, we purchased a new desk--actually a convertible sofa table that folds out into a sort of writing desk. Transferring our mail to the sofa table has resulted in small piles of paper where you least expect them--on the couch, on bookcases, ottomans, and elsewhere. Of course, we don't put any paper on the floor, because our daughter loves, I repeat loves, paper. Or more specifically, the taste of paper. So we're careful about what we let drop.

And the short story--it's for a contest where I can win, if chosen, the fabulous prize of $50, and the only requirement is that it start with the phrase "It was a small box, but . . . " And so I ask you, dear readers, what sort of story would you tell that began with a phrase like that?

BillG

Freelancing

2006-07-10T14:08:00.000-04:00

So I took a class on writing last Saturday.

Well, not really "writing" writing, as in how to use the language to get people to feel something or experience an emotion. No, this class was designed to teach you How to Be a Writer, or how to write for a living, which is something that, more and more, I think I might just try to accomplish. All of the updates from my friend Brent, and my experiences with a friend here at work, Steve, have helped me to believe that this is something that I not only would be halfway decent at, but also something that I could make a halfway decent living at. (How's that for a budding writer's sentence!)

The class itself was an eminently practical excercise. From 9 a.m. to 4 p.m., Mr. Dennis E. Hensley, published author and director of a local writing program, instructed me and seven others on the finer points of writing novels and short stories. What was interesting about him was how compelling he was as a salesman, an ability he used in order to illustrate his points in a captivating and memorable way. It made me wonder if all writers had to be like him, because if that was the case, it certainly wasn't for me.

Of course, that was only if you listen to how he was saying it. If, as I did, you listened to what he was actually saying, you came away with more hope than that. With the proliferation of media has come a proportionate proliferation of publishing houses and presses, making it even more possible to get published someplace. The thing that gave me the most hope? Mr. Hensley talked about how one of the things writers must do is to continue to read, both the classics and modern works, esp. in your chosen genre. Reading? Now that's something I know I can do.

I'll keep you, my faithful and loyal readers (all six of you) posted on how this little odyssey turns out.

BillG

Three years, three hours and eight minutes

2006-06-21T16:03:00.000-04:00

Well, today is a watershed day in the personal history of Billy Gray. Today marks my third year of being married to the always cheerful, ever-lovin' Megan (Jackson) Gray. We've had some wonderful times over the three years we've been married, from a whirlwind trip down to Florida where we found that God does answer prayers to keep rain away, to a crazy, improbably, 24-hour road trip through most of Wisconsin and Minnesota, to the birth of our daughter, little Evelyn, who right at this moment is probably spitting up on a piece of furniture or carpet.

It's been a great ride.

I think one of the things I like best about being married is that it takes the pressure off. I think back to how much mental energy I expended on questions like "What kind of person is the right person for me to marry? Is there just one right person? How will the relationship that I'm in turn out? What flaws and faults are enough to have me walk away? etc. etc." That was a lot of worrying and wondering, a lot of mental angst built up over an (admittedly important) decision. But the feeling of having that finished, of settling in and being committed to this wonderful person that chose me--it's remarkable in that the mental angst is missing. I compare it to having a headache that won't go away. You live with the pain of the headache, because there's nothing that you can do about it. The headache tints every part of your life, from waking in the morning to going to bed at night. It's not like you can't function while you have the headache, rather, you learn to cope with the pain. So it is for all of you unmarried single guys out there.

Of course, there might be a few out there who believe that marriage is a mistake, that it isn't possible for one person to commit to another for 10 years, much less a life, that they're having too much fun to get married and settle down. To those people, I say--you don't know what you're missing, my friend.

You don't know what you're missing.

Happy anniversary, Megan.

BillG

Thoughts on aging

2006-06-13T13:18:00.000-04:00

So I'm typing this with my fingers, which is one of the only parts of me that isn't sore right now. Yesterday, I played Ultimate Frisbee for the first time in about, oh, 6 months. And not just some rinky-dink pick-up game, either. This was full-on, league-certified Ultimate. Good times and fast opponents.

Every year when I come out to play frisbee, I vow that this will be the start of something good--that I will take this opportunity to keep excercising, getting into shape and by this time next year--watch out! And every year, I get more and more used to the excercise, until the league is over, and I then do . . . absolutely nothing. I always think that after the league is over, I'll start running again, or swimming, or some sort of regular excercise--hah! Not likely. This year, I plan to enjoy frisbee, to attempt to run at least one other time per week, and to re-evaluate things at the conclusion of the league.

The worst part about playing, of course, is playing people who can't stop running. Take yesterday, for example. I marked up on a player who used to be on my team last year--he remembered me, which was gratifying, and I certainly remembered him--he was the one who could keep up with my deep passes, running them down and (usually) hauling them in for a score. So I knew what I was getting into--hanging around my own end zone, watching him to make sure that he didn't break away from me and catch a pass from one of their handlers.

Well, it turns out that he's been working on his handle (ability to throw the frisbee, for the uninitiated) as well as his knowledge of how to play the game. I found myself chasing this guy, this high-school cross-country runner, up and down the field for three straight points. It was all I could do to breathe after that ordeal, much less defend anyone. And the best part? After I came off the field, sucking wind like a clogged vacuum cleaner, he stayed out there, and scored the next point for his team, all the while looking as fresh as a daisy.

I couldn't help but feel a little old, fat, and out-of-shape at that point. Motivation for the future, I suppose.

By the way, if you're interested in ultimate frisbee, check out the UPA website (www.upa.org). It has a lot of great resources on the game, as well as places where you can play pick-up in an area near you. Maybe I'll see you out on the field, one of these days.

BillG

The Joys of Home Ownership

2006-06-09T13:47:00.000-04:00

So, it looks like my weekends for the next six years just got filled. Yep, I'm a proud owner of an 83-year-old house, which means myriads of things to do, fix, paint, weed, mow, repair, clean, etc.

One thing that's curiously satisfying, though, is the feeling of having something completed, and knowing that it will stay that way, because it's yours and your family's. On my first day walking around the new house, seeing what needed to be done, (Memorial Day, btw) I moved a rock to sit between our deck and our yard, a stepping stone, if you will. Darned if it's not satisfying every time to use that little stepping stone--it's just great. Who woulda thunk it?

The other interesting thing that's happening this summer, now that we've moved in, is that Megan is watching our niece, Chloe, during the day because she's out of school. So Megan finds herself having dance parties, playing soccer, and making mint chocolate chip ice cream, on top of taking care of the health and well-being of a tiny, cute, demanding little person--our three-year old daughter, for those of you keeping track. I don't know how she does it, how she adapts--I know that I wouldn't fare half as well as her in the same situation. After a rocky period that first day, I think everyone's settled in and everything's going to be fine.

Take care, all.

BillG

2006-06-07T10:45:00.000-04:00

Here's an interesting item from the Mainichi daily news. Apparently, loincloths are becoming all the rage in Japan. Picture this: a happy Hack, riding down the street in midtown Osaka, wearing nothing but a loincloth, a matching t-shirt, and a happy smile. If you didn't just get goosebumps reading that sentence, then you have no heart :)

Loincloths are being marketed by the Mitsukoshi department store in Tokyo's Ginza district as a feature product for the summer months ahead, it has emerged. A boom in the sale of loincloths has been seen since last spring, and in just half a year the department store has sold about 5,000 loincloths -- roughly 25 times the normal number it sells. "They're unconstrained and have got good ventilation, and they're suited for Japan's humid summers," a department store official said. The popularity of loincloths has reportedly continued even during the colder months, with about 200 loincloths being sold monthly in winter. The store predicts that that a full-scale loincloth boom is eminent. It has prepared an abundant range of products for customers, from sleek designs featuring dots, goldfish, and fireworks, to loincloths that come with matching T-shirts. With the hot summer months ahead, the loincloths may add a new twist to the "Cool-biz" trend of dressing down to cool off. Source: Mainichi

An update, guaranteed to satisfy

2006-06-06T12:27:00.000-04:00

So . . .

May has been "major upheaval" month for the Gray household, especially the distaff side of the family. Evie has found her feet, and started to suck her thumb, as well as laughing, giggling, smiling, and even trying to talk back to us when we talk to her. She's also usually covered in a thin sheen of drool/spit-up/healthy baby glow most of the time, depending on how long it has been since she last had a bath (1 day and counting).

We moved last Saturday, to the not-so-distant block of 4400 Beaver, which is about (and I measured this) 0.3 miles away from our old residence. So, there's no Internet connection, no land-phone line, and no washer or dryer at our current abode, though we do have a front and back yard--first time ever. Once the family settles in, I think we'll be pretty happy in our new place. It's bigger, with room to expand our family, if we and God so desire, and it's in a much quiter neighborhood, with small children running around and people out working on their lawns and gardens almost every evening. My goodness--I think I've been domesticated! Seeing as how that was one of my goals, I shouldn't be surprised, of course, but still. If I can figure out this blog thing, and if we ever get the Internet back, I may even post a few pics of our new place. Friends are always welcome to visit.

Updating this blog is now on my list of "Things to do." I'll keep these posts short, and hopefully frequent. And if you're wondering why I didn't comment directly on the lack of posts, it's because I simply don't have a good enough excuse to offer you. Since it's 6/6/06 today, I'll just say that the devil made me do it.

BillG

No baby yet . . .

2006-02-10T15:25:00.000-05:00

. . . guess she's pretty comfortable where she is.

I have a hard time concentrating at work--just thinking about her and what she'll be like.

I hope she comes soon.

Sorry for the lack of posts--I hope you'll forgive me. Everything's fine, aside from wondering and waiting. It's as if you didn't know what day Christmas was, only that it was some day around the 25th. Every day you wake up and run downstairs, expecting presents, and when there aren't any, you're slightly disappointed, but you know that the presents are coming soon, and that it's one day closer to the day.

Now take that feeling and multiply it by ten, and you'll have some idea of what we're going through. We appreciate all of the calls, prayers and well-wishers. Those of you who know us--expect a call when things get moving. Those that don't, well, why are you reading this blog in the first place?

Billy

ESPN.com - NFL - Pasquarelli: Job postings

2006-01-03T09:55:00.000-05:00

ESPN.com - NFL - Pasquarelli: Job postings

Click on the link, and read the headline. Looks like I could have a job in the NFL . . .

Resistance (sp?) is futile

2006-01-03T09:31:00.000-05:00

Every time I log in to publish a little something for you fine folks, I'm tempted to click on and figure out how to use Adsense, that little button that promises to help you make money by placing ads on your blog. As a marketer (in name at least, if not fully in spirit), I'm becoming increasingly aware of the various ways and means companies use to try to get their name out there, to try to get folks to try or buy whatever product they're selling in increasing quantities.

Now that I'm "on the inside" of marketing, so to speak, I see things like AdSense not as another for corporate America to "take over" the hearts and minds of the American people, but as the idea of some bright marketing manager at Google trying to figure out a way to "enhance shareholder profitability." (It seems to be working, as Google's stock is up almost 300% since its IPO last year). I see ads on TV and sit at home wishing I had thought of them first, rather than taking offense at its tone/style/content/existence. Of course, there are always ones I'm glad I didn't think of, like the amazingly insipid ads a local dentist has in heavy circulation right now.

But still, the question in my mind remains--what kind of person/professional am I becoming by doing what I am doing? And am I becoming someone that I would like to be in the future? If I met my future self five years from now, would I come away liking that person? I am doing my best, with God's help and other loved ones around me, including you, dear readers, to make sure the answer is yes.

Anyway, thanks for reading, I'll try to post more often, happy new year, merry christmas, and happy birthday to my Mom (December) and my wife (January). Once I find the digital camera, I'll try to get a photo of Megan up on the blog.

Yikes. . .

2005-12-20T11:17:00.000-05:00

Wow.

Has it really been so long since I've posted here? Never thought the blog production would fall off so quickly, or so abrubtly. Well, for my three readers out there, here's a quick update on what's going on in the land of Billy;

We've moved! Megan and I are now comforatably settled in a nice two-bedroom rental, all utilities paid, until at least March 30 of next year. It's pretty interesting how we ended up with the place, actually.

After doing some searching, examining various apartments and one other rental home, Megan received a call from a real estate agent in town, who's basically THE real estate agent here on the south side of town. She had a family that was looking to get out of the rental business and sell their properties, only a planned sale was going to fall through, leaving them stuck with the home that they were in. Piling injury to insult, this family had purchased a home elsewhere in town with more room (they have three children) contingent on the sale or rental of their current home. When the weather turns colder in Fort Wayne, the housing market goes with it--it was unlikely that this family would be able to find a buyer in time to make their move.

That's where Megan and I entered the picture. As potential renters, we represented an attractive fit to the family in dire straits. One, we were only looking to rent until the spring, when my grad school decision was more firmed up (more on that in another post). Two, we would be able to move immediately, and were fine with a short-term lease. Three, we had served as references for friends of ours who had rented from this family (the McMillens) two years ago. A deal was quickly struck, and we moved into our new house with help from friends from church and Fort Wayne the next week.

I don't think it will be easy for us to go back to apartment living after being in a house. First, the difference in available space is, well, astonishing to my space-cramped mind (I spent a year in Japan and another in various one- and two-bedroom apartments, mind you). There's actually room for everything to have a place, and everything to be in its place--something that's key when it comes to keeping an orderly home (my wife is very big on this). Second, we're located in an actual neighborhood, with space between our neighbors and us. In our old place, we had a downstairs neighbor that liked to crank her music and sing along to it, usually at 1 p.m. on a Sunday afternoon--difficult to nap with the warbled strains of Celine Deion or Madonna coming up through the floor. Here, there's blessed quiet. Megan said that at first, when a loud car with the base turned up would pass by, she would start to worry about the noise being permanent. When the car passes by and fades in the distance, she realises again what a difference it makes to have a home of one's own.

Third, (and finally, since I'm getting long-winded here) did I mention all utilities paid? Have that heat turned up enough to keep a (very) pregnant lady warm. Have those Christmas lights on the tree--leave them on all night if you want to. Sure, take a long bath. Take one every morning if you like. Without the worry of a huge utility bill arriving in the mail, our winter season is a lot more comfortable.

If I don't post before Christmas, have a sacred and joyous Christmas season.

Billy

What to do with my life

2005-11-11T16:01:00.000-05:00

I'm beginning to seriously doubt that I'll ever figure out what to do with my life. I thought I had a plan, up until today, only to have the foundations of what I'm doing thrown into question. Sorry I can't be more specific--those of you who know me can e-mail me, and I'll give you an answer--but this is a public forum, after all.

I'd like to address more generally the question of purpose in life. Is it possible to determine your purpose in life? I'd like to propose a theory--that it's not possible. Think about it--purpose implies a why for something, a reason for being. But the why for something is really only evident (if it's ever evident at all) in hindsight, when you can look back and say, "Oh, that's the reason that happened!" This is how it works in scientific experimentation--you experiment, test your results against a control, then evaluate the variable as it pertains to the cause of your experiment.

Only in life, you have no "control," no "second experiment." You can look back, make reasonable guesses about why something happened, or why some decision was made, but to look into the future, figure out a course of action, and say, "yes, this is the purpose to which I must dedicate my life," this is something that seems impossible to me.

Instead of purpose, which is how I realize I've been thinking about things recently, I think I need to re-frame my question, to read, "what am I called to do with my life?" This question is becoming more real to me, as I contemplate my future and my past.

2005-10-24T19:23:00.000-05:00

Can you spot Jamie?

How business is done

2005-10-17T23:50:00.000-05:00

Today was a true sweet and sour day.

Sweet, because we were able to get the rental house that we wanted. It's a nice two-bedroom, with lots of space downstairs and a relatively dry basement, and it was going to be sold as recently as two weeks ago. A call to a realtor, a potential buyer who backed out when her loan came in with a higher monthly payment, and one visited home later, Megan and I came away from a tour of the house impressed and excited. That was Saturday--we had to wait until Monday when the deadline for the frightened buyer came and went. Well, it appears as though the sale will fall through, which means that Megan and I will be in a new place come November.

Sour, because of various difficulties with all sorts of random things, from church to our current place to incorrect rebate information on a cell phone application. Little things can really push you over the top. Take this cell phone rebate. Not only do you have to send in the UPC from the original box, the form showing where you purchased the phone from, and a rebate application, but you have to send in a phone bill no less than 90 days but no more than 120 days after your application for service (!). I did all this, hoping and praying for my $50 rebate, only to get a terse e-mail saying that I had filled out my form incorrectly/incompletely (they didn't say which one) and that I could correct the information as long as it was within 120 days of my activation date. Guess what? The rebate company also takes the liberty of saying they will take from 8-10 weeks to process a claim, so I think I'm outside the 120 window they prescribed.

There's something that seems almost criminal about how this was done, and the worst part of it is, there's no face, no person to attack or feel slighted by. Rather, I feel like I was chewed up by the system, by a faceless, friendless corporation, which makes the loss of that $50 harder to take. I am glad in these situations that I am a Christian, that I believe that there is a real Right and Wrong in this world, and that eventually, all of the Wrongs will be made right, or at least called into account. Then there will be no systems, no faceless corporations, only people, and what those people did to themselves, to each other, and to God.

Thoughts on Serenity

2005-10-12T23:20:00.000-05:00

Well, it's good to get back to this blogging thing--I appreciate your comments and hope that you enjoy at least some of this. If not, I hope I can at least help pass the time a little bit more quickly.

More from the Thailand trip in a little bit, but first, some thoughts on Serenity, a movie I recently had the opportunity to watch with my in-laws and wife.

I'm glad that I knew that this was a TV show at one time--I guess the creator of the show had a falling-out with Fox TV, who originally aired it as Firefly, but chopped up the order of the series, as well as airing it in a different time slot every week. Knowing that it was a TV show helped excuse, for me, some of the somewhat wooden acting of the principals, particularly the captain. At one point, my wife leaned over and said, "He could use some charisma, huh?"

My thoughts exactly.

What stuck with me was not the story, or the characters, or even stilted acting (all thoughts in the intro aside), but the settings. The movie, for me, did a wonderful job of creating a sense of place and time that is or was different from my own. I think that was the allure of the movie, thinking about the different settings and worlds, imagining what other kinds of things could be happening in a setting like the one in the movie.

Some movies are about character--As Good As it Gets is a great example. That movie had nothing else going for it except the snappily written characters and the actors who brought them to life. Well, that and a cute little dog.

Some movies are about plot--Sahara is the best recent example I can think of that did this well. Sahara or The Mummy--these movies drive you along with them, making you think and wonder what will happen next, tying it all up in the expected way, and making you feel good about what you just saw and participated in, without a lot of committment, kind of like a game of Pac-Man or Crazy Eights.

Serenity was about setting--different worlds, different technologies, even a different way of speaking that, in some ways, helped create versimilitude (sp?) that affected my inner eye in a profound way. I've started to write a book (again) but this time, I'm trying to actually finish it before I start, rather than just writing a chapter and getting stuck. It's that sense of setting, that sense of place, that I'd like to try to convey in my book, even though it's a completely different place and time (it's going to be a high fantasy-type story, something like A Game of Thrones but less depressing). To that end, the movie was valuable and instructive.

I'll see if I can post some of the book here at the blog, if you're interested.

BillG

Currently reading: "A Swiftly Tilting Planet," Madeline L'Engle

First day--khosan road

2005-10-06T23:15:00.000-05:00

Here's an excerpt from my journal, written on a warm night in Bangkok, Thailand.

Today it is rainy. The time, according to a Thai clock--16:20. Joel and I have shoved off the sparkling sea of Osaka, shook the brown dust of Korea back on the road, and sit now in Thailand, "The land of smiles," where shiny brown men and women ply an innumerable number of trades and professions, most of them involving selling something or scamming someone. Oddly enough, the oddest thing about Thailand is the distinct lack of Thai people, at least in many of the areas we've been in. Backpackers infest this area like scruffy rodents, coming in every shape, size, race, age and color. They crowded our bus from the airport, Nihon-jin behind us, Australians in front. The Australians actually led us to a hotel the first night, though they weren't aware of it. We followed them as they bolted from our air-conditioned bus, darted left and across the street, and raced to the Sawadee guest house. We managed to secure a doublem which meant a fan, a balcony, and a really big bed--for the two of us. The bed and room were a relief after enduring a sleepless night in Osaka (for J anyway), slashing rain, rude Thai stewardesses who refused to fill drinks, and a cold that almost prevented me from packing, though it wouldn't have stopped me from going.

We wandered around Khosan Road, "backpackers mecca" and it was possible to feel the energy rippling through the place. Sidewalk vendors peddled all sorts of weird goods, from silk flowers to shruikens. Thai women with portable speakers wandered up and down the street, singing songs and shaking money cans. We sat at a restaurant, ordered drinks, and found ourselves drinking out of a coconut and cold bottle. . .

Yeesh

2005-10-05T09:13:00.000-05:00

I wish I had more to say about certain things, and less to say about others. I think that time spent writing in this blog seems awfully hard before I actually get into it, then when I start writing, things loosen up quite a bit. Apologies to all for my absence--if I can figure out how to load pictures here then you'll see some from our recent vacation to Arizona and the Grand Canyon with my side of the family.

We're currently looking to move into a bigger place. The two of us (soon to be three, and becoming more real every day!) will probably need a little bit more space than the current crammed office, crammed bedroom, etc. etc. Interesting how many rental properties are out there. Whenever I see or think about rental properties, I can't help but calculate up how much actual money these landlords are pulling in. Of course, there are probably all sorts of hidden costs in money and time, but on the whole of it, being a landlord or renting a place doesn't seem so bad--you just maintain what you've got, keep your tenants happy, and watch the checks roll in, month after month.

Of the places we've seen, a little rental home close to where we currently live seems the most promising. Interestingly enough, as we were going through it with the owner, she said that she had her first child in this house, then moved away six months later, which is odd because Megan and I may end up doing the same thing.

I'll type up some of my Vietnam/Cambodia/Laos notes for my next post, assuming I ever get around to it.

Oh, and I have a gmail account now, thanks to Josh Walton. If you put your e-mail addy in the comments seciton, I'll send you mail from there so you can have the new address.

Thoughts on becoming a father

2005-08-31T17:35:00.000-05:00

"At last I feel the equal of my parents. Knowing you are going to have a child is like extending yourself in the world, setting up a tent and saying “Here I am, I am important.” Now that I’m going to have a child it’s like the balance is even. My hand is as rich as theirs, maybe for the first time. I am no longer just a child."

--Anonymous Father. Ourselves and Our Children, by Boston Women’s Health Book Collective, ch. 5 (1978).

The slim white finger of plastic sat on the floor, hidden by instructions on how to use it. My wife and I were standing over it, waiting for the requisite two minutes to pass and the results to become clear. After about 4 had passed, she looked at me with anticipation in her eyes.

"I'm almost afraid to look," she said.

I whipped off the directions, and to our surpise, delight and great joy, a little "+" was there, indicating that we'd be adding to our family in a little under eight months.

That was back in June. Since then, we've surprised her parents, confirmed my parents' suspicions (though they were right for the wrong reasons), and then sat mum for two more months, not telling anyone until we could hear the heartbeat and see the child moving on the ultrasound. As you may have guessed, that window of time has come and gone, and now she and I are waiting for February 2, when we'll meet the newest member of our family, and she will become a mother and I will become a father.

I feel like I should wax poetic about being a father now, but in reality, the truth of the matter still has yet to sink in. This doesn't change any of our plans, and yet it does change them. I don't feel changed, and yet I am changed. I'm looking forward to February, and yet I'm dreading it, wondering what kind of man I will be for my child, wondering if our baby will be strong, or shy, or smart, or timid, or some combination of traits I can't think of. We're praying and hoping and waiting and worrying, and we're looking forward to being parents, and to adding to our family.

Looks like I did wax poetic after all. Sorry.

Two Words

2005-08-21T21:25:00.000-05:00

Megan's pregnant!

That's all for now :).

More to follow.

Billy AND Megan AND Sweet Baby Gray

Baking away in Fort Wayne

2005-07-11T19:12:00.000-05:00

Megan and I had the chance to attend the various Three Rivers Festival events this weekend--specifically Saturday. A highlight of the day was watching members of the Red Hat club (a group of 55+ year old women who get together on weekends wearing red hats and purple clothes and descend upon various stores at Glenbrook Square, our shopping mall . . . it looks even wierder than it sounds) ride with the local Harley Davidson appreciation chapter here in Fort Wayne in the kickoff parade. My father in law remarked--"I don't know if there's a better way to keep those bikers under control than by having an old lady riding along behind them." He was rewarded with an eye roll from my mother in law, and a chuckle from me. Some of those old ladies (no disrespect intended) actually looked pretty tough. One of them, instead of wearing a red hat, had a red bandana tied around her head. I immediately identified her as Tony's grandmother.

This parade is known as the Three Rivers Invitational, and is the same one that some of you may have heard me talk about in previous years. Usually, I'm running around like a madman trying to get everything in order for the parade for the two weeks before, then on the day of I had to get up around o'dark forty and listen to cheerleaders complain about the fact that we didn't make enough small and medium-sized t-shirts. Then, I sit in the back of a pickup truck for hours, passing out water and drinks, after which I ride in the parade in the back of the truck, hunched down because we're only allowed 35 people on the float, and I would disqualify us as the 36th person. After that is the nerve-wracking drive back to campus, where I watch the float that we painstakingly built over the last 48 hours disintegrate owing to the bumps and potholes of Fort Wayne's streets, and the speedy driving of the man in the pickup truck. We would then tear the float down, put away the artificial flowers for use next year, and I would head home to sleep for four or five hours.

It sounds like as much fun as it was.

This year, I actually missed seeing the USF float entirely, and instead was treated to old women riding around on the backs of Harley Davidson motorcycles. Sometimes it pays to move up in the company.

BillG

Gorilla blog

2005-07-06T10:10:00.000-05:00

Well, after the week from H-E-Double hockey sticks, things are finally easing up enough for me to drop a little post here, with more to follow later on. The reasons for the lack of posting are myriad--I won't go into them here.

Those of you without regular jobs, enjoy it while you can--I'm hoping to find my way back to that promised land soon enough. For now, I have to dash off furtive posts while at work, typing, hitting Alt-TAB when I hear footsteps, then opening up the window again to type a little more. I am the gorilla blogger.

The only problem? One of my strongest food aversions is to bananas (Sp? who cares?). I have a friend who loves to tell the story of how he ate little finger sized bananas every day for a solid week, squeezing them out like so much toothpaste. Because I couldn't avoid my friend at the time, I had to watch, or at least be in the vicinity of, him at the time. To this day, the smell alone is enough to make me gag. So if I'm going to be a gorilla, I'm going to be one who doesn't eat bananas.

Wait, my internal filter is telling me that it's spelled Guerilla, not gorilla.

Dang it! Ah well, enjoy the weirdness.

Memories . . . all alone in the moonlight

2005-06-13T23:14:00.000-05:00

"Human memory, on the other hand, is the invisible psychic adhesive that holds our identity together from moment to moment. This makes it a radically different phenomenon from computer memory. For one thing, it is fluid rather than granular, more like a wave than a particle. Like a wave, it spreads through the mind, puddling up here and there in odd personal associations that may be of the most inexplicable kind. It flows not only through the mind, but through the emotions, the senses, the body. We remember things as no computer canÂin our muscles and reflexes: how to swim, play an instrument, use a tool."

--Theodore Roszak, historian and educator

And on the return, rejuvination nation.

Vacations are odd animals. For something as much anticipated as they tend to be, they seem to go really quickly while you're in them, and then you wonder why you worried about this or that, and why you didn't enjoy the vacation more. But then, hopefully, you settle in, back to regular life, or at least a near-approximation of it, and the vacation becomes a pleasant memory or set of memories.

This one had pleasant memories by the bucketful. Shopping for clothes in a wind-swept Cabazon Mall in Palm Springs, for one. Oddly enough, I managed to get all of the clothes that I set out to obtain, and Megan didn'tacquiree any new clothing. I even did it sans Tony, though I'm sure he would have found a lot of other clothes at a great bargain that looked wonderful. I still use that jacket you strong-armed me in Japan to get, Tony.

Another was our day at the beach. My skin carries memories of this one. No longer am I the supple-skinned seventeen-year old who could stay out in the sun all day long swimming and playing polo and not getting burned. As I get older, I seem to be flip-flopping some of my genetic traits--my skin is getting more like my Dad's (pale, easily burnt), while my hair is getting more like my Mom's (thinner, soon to become male-pattern baldness). So, at the beach, I tried a new "spray-on" type sunscreen. I can't say it didn't do its job, because it did--except only in the places where it actually got on my skin. For the record, it was a particularly windy day at the beach. When I got home and showered off, I found white blotches that looked like little mushrooms (the spray had hit my body and dripped slightly) all over my chest and back. Good Times!

V-ball and dinner with Kwin was also nice. We packed up my little bro for the summer, moving him out of his tiny apartment on UCSD's campus, and placing all of his stuff in our van, which saggednoticeablyy after being loaded. After piling all of his stuff away, it was time for some V-Ball, the guys vs. the girls, best of seven. Jamie and I stole a couple of games early on Kwin, Bobbi and Megan, an advantage we held on to in order to eventually win the series. I also managed to step on a rusty nail, something that you might find in the Handbook of Things Not To Step On If You Don't Want To Get A Tetanus Booster (Catchy Title!). I avoided a shot, and hopefully tetanus--victory heals all ills, or something. Or maybe it was Kwin's excellent cooking? If you're ever in SD, feel free to stop by--she's always happy to see friends, and doesn't need much advance notice to whip something delectable up.

I have other memories to share, of course--those are just some of the highlights. Look for more this week, as I want to get these down while they're still fresh in my mind.

Currently reading: The Life of the Modern, by Paul Johnson.

Imagine yourself on a beach in California

2005-06-05T11:47:00.000-05:00

"Travel is glamorous only in retrospect."
--Paul Theroux, travel writer

After an exhausting day, in which I drove 200 miles, and flew roughly 1200 more, Megan and I found ourselves in California on Friday. A day that started in Angola, Indiana, pitching an advertising campaign to a dentist, ended with me, Megan, Bobbi and Mom in Dad in our kitchen talking and eating chocolate-chip cookies. Modern life is certainly odd.

I think back to stories of how people even as late as a hundred years ago never traveled more than 25 -50 miles away from home. How different things must have been back then, when distance was a very real thing, and people who had traveled were rare. Short of going off to war, maybe some people didn't have t o travel. And, of course, I'm not ruling out the possiblity that there are still people who haven't traveled more than 25-50 mi. away from home, even in this day and age.

California, so far, has been a pastiche of mini-golf, air hockey, and really good food. Today, Megan and I will be going to Catholic Mass with my parents and sister, and then who knows what else is on the docket--probably seeing Revenge of the Sith, which my parents and sis haven't seen yet. It'll be our second time, but I'll be looking for a shot of George Lucas, who appears in the movie, as well as other little "Easter Eggs" that Lucas has hidden in the movie.

Take care, everybody.

Billy

Creativity

2005-06-02T23:50:00.000-05:00

"Ideas are infinite, original, and lively divine thoughts. "
--Friedrich Von Schlegel, German Philosopher

What I do in marketing is pretty interesting, somedays. As I've learned by doing the Backpage, and through other endeavors, coming up with new stuff is hard. It's really hard. And so, when I find myself sitting in a room with two other people trying to think of a way to describe dentistry that is both powerful and comforting, I can't help but think back to the days of the Backpage (for those of you who don't know, it was a humor page my friends and I published (I'm still not sure how) on the last page of our college news paper. Some of it was actually funny) and all of the nights I spent eating pizza and telling other Americans whether they were hot or not.

When we finally arrived at a good idea, both at the Backpage and at this meeting I was at today, the feeling was that it was something so completely obvious that we couldn't figure out why we didn't think of it sooner. Of course, it's not as easy as all that. I mean, something like "leaf holocaust" doesn't just hit you out of the blue (unless your name is Lucas). So when we ended up with a good tagline, and a better creative campaign theme, I was pretty happy to be in the business that I'm currently in. Maybe it's not always this fun or satisfying--most days it's more mundane and banal--but from time to time, I can see myself doing this for a while, and liking it, which is the scary thing.

On other random notes, we will be leaving for California tomorrow morning. Please pray for safe travel for us, as well as for the time spent with my parents and Bobbi and Jamie. It's nice to have a vacation, finally. This is the first time that Megan and I will be out in California when it's actually warm. Novel idea, huh? Those of you that live in California, you know what I'm talking about--sun, sand, your mom's cooking, wide freeways and mountain vistas. I'll try to blog from Cali, if only so I don't have a ton of catching up to do with this upon our return.

Till then, take care.

Billy

Heh heh . . . sorry

2005-05-31T23:36:00.000-05:00

"Consistency is a virtue for trains: what we want from a philosopher is insights, whether he comes by them consistently or not."

--Stephen Vizinczey, Hungarian novelist and critic

Consistency is overrated.

Whenever I let something in my life go, be it an overdue library book, a stock that I know I should check on, or yes, a daily or at least thrice-weekly commitment to blogging, I tend to try to ignore the problem, thus making it something larger than it already is. Take writing in this blog as an example. For the longest time, say, around May 12, I wouldn't even think about checking in on Tony's blog, or my own, for that matter, because I didn't want to think about trying to write consistently in this one. The thought "I have to write in my blog," kept crossing my mind, and yet, I wouldn't, because I was afraid of what you, dear readers, would say upon my return.

Probably something like,

"There he goes again--we'll see how long this lasts!"

or

"hmmm. new post from Billy. think I'll ignore it for a week or so, then see if he posts in that time."

or even,

"it's nice to see Billy posting again. I hope he keeps it up--I like reading his informative and well-written posts."

Okay, maybe only Kwin would say that last one. Point being, I need to face up to my blogging beast, bite the bullet, jump in the pool, pop the question, get on with it--I need to put in a consistent effort here on the 'net for this to have any value to anyone whatsoever.

"that Billy--always making promises about consistency--then never delivering."

We'll see about that . . .

Daze of Confusion

2005-04-21T23:40:00.000-05:00

Typical day at work--get up at 8 a.m., get to work late. Check e-mail. Check e-mail again. Read the newspaper (this is billable time, by the way). Check e-mail again. Crisis. Crisis averted. Crisis. Check e-mail. Crisis averted. Lunch. Afternoon--looks a lot like the morning.

Well, today wasn't a typical day at all! To start, we had a photo shoot at work, which is basically a lot of standing around watching a photographer work, suggesting shots and lugging equipment around. We did a "moving" shoot--in other words, no studio. The photographer and his assistant would set up and tear down lights in actual classroom space, which means we got to be the target of student jesting, hamming it up, and sometimes pleased embarassment (sp?).

Some thoughts on photo shoots--it's interesting how different someone can look on camera. We took pictures of one student in the library, who seemed pretty, but nothing out of the ordinary. On film, she looked like a different person--changed, somehow, the camera brought out beauty in her that I hadn't seen, that maybe wasn't visible, just by looking at her. It was a strange experience.

Also, seeing how people react to the camera is a source of fascination as well. Some people can't concentrate on anything else--this includes some of the professors in the rooms we were shooting in. Some try to resolutely ignore it. The ones that can't are the interesting ones--you can tell they're always thinking about where that camera is, what it's looking at, who it's looking at.

Anyway, today was a day out of the ordinary--something I'm grateful for.

Check e-mail.

Classic

2005-04-16T09:54:00.000-05:00

Here's a "blast from the past." The "booting it up" thing was classic--though this guy has nothing on Lucas' "magic blow" (not as gross as it sounds).

http://www.milkandcookies.com/links/28721/

(You'll need Quicktime to view this, or be on a mac, anyway)

So, I'm a burger king

2005-04-06T11:31:00.000-05:00

Well, it's been a while. The website is up--www.parkview.com. Bobbi got into Harvard Law, though she's not sure whether she'll take it. And my father in law won the college baskteball tournament pool, a grand prize of $80. Yes, things have been happening. Important things. Things that maybe people want to know a little about.

And yet, my posting has shriveled up like Langston Hughes' rasins.

How many times can you apologize and say you'll try to do a better job?

Answer: at least one more time.

By the way, I guess I'm in the burger business--check out this link: www.billgrays.com. It makes me kinda hungry, looking at those burgers. Perhaps a pilgrimmage is in order?

Thought of the day: "Let us endeavor so to live that when we come to die even the undertaker will be sorry." --Mark Twain

Everybody! Everybody!

2005-03-11T11:48:00.000-05:00

Everybody! Everybody!

One of the best flash cartoon sites on the web. Look for hidden easter eggs on the main pages, check out the "strong bad" e-mail, and enjoy the kid-friendly, yet riotously funny humor and voices.

This site was started by two guys who love programming in flash. They brought in another guy to do all the voices, and their parents help them by shipping out and silk-screening t-shirts. If you haven't been introduced to the homestar runner, now's your chance.

Good introductory ones are the "video games" strong bad e-mail, the "first time here" link on the main page, and the "for kids" strong bad e-mail, as well as any of the cartoon shorts.

Enjoy--let me know what you think!

Billy

Yikes . . . buried alive

2005-03-08T23:41:00.000-05:00

So . . . there's really no excuse for not putting interesting tidbits of stuff on this blog, like how I got lost in China or Korea, or extracted some rare mineral from the lead of my pencil, or even how I managed to find solution to the Euthyphro problem. These tidbits of stuff may be interesting (at least they're interesting to me, but I confess it's late) but they're certainly not true.

The truth? Well, that's far more mundane. The truth is that I have been buried alive in the crush of work that has overwhelmed me, trapping me at the bottom of a Lake Baikal of paper. There may be interesting things there, but there's no way (and no time!) to get the word out to people. So, consider this my apology. Sorry for being so late and sporadic on updating this blog. I won't promise not to do it again--I think we all know the foolishness of that empty vow. No, I won't make any promises, simply offer my apologies.

Interested in what I'm up too? Take a second and go to www.parkview.com. Without getting too specific, know that I know almost every inch of that website. Also take into account the fact that I know that a lot of that content is out of date, aside from the website being pretty terribly designed and written. Putting fact 1 with fact 2 should yield an answer, but if you're still confused, post a comment and I'll supply you with an answer.

I've taken up the game of pool. The woman that I work for, who also happens to be the president of the company, used to be a Big Ten billiards champion. She likes to boast (though she has a penchant for exaggeration) that she put herself through school hustling pool. Even if that's not true, it is true that she is a very very strong player, and I've been learning a lot about pool. They say that 8-ball and 9-ball are similar to chess, mixed with golf. While this may be true to a certain extent, I'm hoping it's not entirely true, because I'm pretty poor at both of those sports. I'll keep you posted on my progress--we're having a tournament at work as I write this.

Megan has been sick--she sees the doctor tomorrow. Keep her in your prayers.

Coming up next--a short description of a trip to Boston. stay tuned in.

Marketing as it was meant to be

2005-03-07T09:38:00.000-05:00

It takes while to download with slower connections, but the end result is worth it, if you like techno music, or breakdancing, or even volkswagons.

BTW, sorry about the lack of updating, there's an entry coming tonight, I promise!

2005-02-28T23:58:00.000-05:00

Is this me? Where am I?

The cyclops

2005-02-28T19:42:00.000-05:00

Sorry for the delay, everyone. It's hard to update a blog when you're bumming around Boston with family and friends--my mistake! And Tony, while I appreciate your comments, I have yet to figure out how to add links/pictures/google translators to my blogging page. Advice and comments on that score would be appreciated.

As I write this, I can hear the sounds of my wife getting dinner ready and feel the breeze on the back of my neck. We have a cartoon stove that heats up when's it's angry--of course, smoke comes out of its front as well. So, pardon me while I take a break to eat dinner. . . .

Ok, that was a MUCH longer break than anticipated. We found ourselves, after eating a wonderful cream-of-broccoli soup dinner, mesmerized by the all-seeing eye of our television set. I may be the only one to have experienced this, but it seems as though once you start watching something, and after you've had a long day at work, your arms become lead weights and your brain shuts off and your just sit there and are . . . entertained!

The price you pay, of course, is lost time--time that has left you without any real memories, only who sang what song on American Idol, and what imaginary terrorist was thwarted on 24. When I'm an old man, maybe I'll remember myself as the one who sang to an audience of applauding terrorists and CIA agents. Then again, maybe not.

I had another interesting experience after the brain turned back on. I'm not sure if it's that I'm blogging now, or that I just haven't been using the writing part of my brain, but I get slightly panicky when I think about having to write these entries. That's probably why I keep slipping into the introspective (oops! there I go again! Bad Billy!) . . . Anyway, your patience as I work out this underused muscle is appreciated. And with that, I say, good night!

In the interest of consistency

2005-02-22T15:23:00.000-05:00

ESPN.com: Page 2 : Delivering the mail

For those of you who don't read this columnist, and are unfamiliar with the work of the Boston Sports Guy, this is a good introduction to his work. What we have here is a breakdown of (according to him) a groundbreaking TV show, as it stacks up to its heir apparent.

I'm not all that familiar with The OC, but his stuff about 90210 is spot on.

While I'm on the topic, did anyone else who watched 90210 feel slightly guilty after or while watching it? I always felt like I needed to take a bath when the show ended. Looking back on some of those episodes now, that feeling is long gone, being as how I watched a fat man in a diaper high on LSD jump off a balcony and break his neck, only to choke on his own blood when his wife turned him over (the basic plot of last week's CSI). I guess it's really true that innocence, once lost, is lost for good.

On that morbid note--enjoy the column!

Let's Get Started

2005-02-21T10:24:00.000-05:00

Something to be said for starting new works, and never finishing them. Something to be said for writing something that probably no one will see. Regardless, let us press ahead with a new endeavor, a new resolution.

Blink and you'll miss it. Yeah, sounds like a pretty good name. Random thoughts, little stories, and interesting comments from you, the reader. Enjoy--I know I will.

Bill