The Madness of March

The Madness of March has begun. Although there are places in the United States where this “madness” grips people with an immovable power, I am only slightly enraged by this time of year. Of course, I do everything that everyone does during March Madness. I’ve filled out my bracket. I just spent two hours watching four games all at once. I’ve even been trying to keep track of the up and coming stars that may be going pro. But, to be completely honest with you, I am not really a basketball person. Though I enjoy college hoops a lot more than pro ball, it may rank third or tied for fourth in my list of the top team sports. I do have some issues with college basketball that only serve to aggravate my not-so-total enjoyment of the Madness of March. First and perhaps foremost overall is the incredibly long length of the shot clock. It’s almost ridiculous. Thirty-five seconds is an eternity in basketball, especially at the college level. Most of these players would qualify for semi-pro or European teams who play under professional rules with a twenty-four second clock. Giving them eleven more seconds is like giving them free reign over the court. I’m not saying it needs to be reduced to twenty-four seconds, but some reduction might make things just a little more interesting. Second, halves, as opposed to quarters or innings or intervals (thirds), are the stupidest thing to happen to sports in the post high school age group ever. Yes, soccer is played in halves, which is fine for them and their silly little business, but this is basketball. Basketball was wholly invented in the United States and deserves a better treatment than the internationalist ideals of halves. If quarters were introduced to college basketball, think of the awesomeness of the fourth quarter comeback. Think of the reimagining and restructuring of game plans that could happen to engineer the greatest games in history. Imagine the upsets we’ve seen in college basketball and the close calls…now think if they had gone the other way because coaches had a break between a third and fourth quarter to come up with greatness. I’m rambling. Third, I am not really invested in any of these teams. I’m not alum of any of these schools. Sure, I can cheer for the teams that I like and be a bandwagon fan, but I don’t have Texas or UCONN jerseys in my closet. All I can say is good luck to anyone who tries to keep my March Madness under control when the SMU Mustangs make it to the big dance. Enough said about that.

I had one of those soul searching moments today while working alone in the warehouse at work putting up tires from our warehouse delivery. Why am I such a nice guy? I’m one of the nicest guys I know. I’m the nicest guy at my shop. It doesn’t matter what you do or say to me, sooner or later I will forgive and forget. I’ll even go out of my way sometimes. I discount for people who don’t ask for or don’t need discounts. I get my friends ridiculously nice gifts for Christmas and their birthdays. I pick up the check often. I’m a horribly good tipper. I…am a serial nice guy. I think this has even affected my relationships. It’s no mistake that I’ve noticed woman gravitate to guys who treat them like crap. I’m usually the friend who hears about the bad things these guys do. I’m the shoulder that ends up getting cried on. I’m doomed to be the nice guy. Possibly, or as of right now, definitely finishing last in the relationship race amongst my friends. I know that has to do with more than just me being “too” nice a guy. I know I put up walls and am handicapping myself with high standards. This, I mulled over for about 2 hours while throwing tires around in the warehouse. That is what happens when you leave me alone with my thoughts for too long and don’t numb them out with alcohol or TV.

I’m deep.

GO IRISH...literaly, for the day...

Before you go and get blitzed tonight in the good Irish spirit, you need to learn about the man whose name is on this fantastic day. St. Patrick of Ireland is one of the world's most popular saints. Apostle of Ireland, born at Kilpatrick, near Dumbarton, in Scotland, in the year 387; died at Saul, Downpatrick, Ireland, 17 March, 461. Along with St. Nicholas and St. Valentine, the secular world shares our love of these saints. His memorial is celebrated on March 17 and this is also a day when everyone's Irish. He didn't chase the snakes out of Ireland and he may never have plucked a shamrock to teach the mystery of the Trinity. Yet St. Patrick well deserves to be honored by the people of Ireland—and by downtrodden and excluded people everywhere. There are many legends and stories of St. Patrick, but this is his story. Patrick was born around 385 in Scotland, probably Kilpatrick. His parents were Calpurnius and Conchessa, who were Romans living in Britain in charge of the colonies. As a boy of fourteen or so, he was captured during a raiding party and taken to Ireland as a slave to herd and tend sheep. Ireland at this time was a land of Druids and pagans. He learned the language and practices of the people who held him. During his captivity, he turned to God in prayer. He wrote, "The love of God and his fear grew in me more and more, as did the faith, and my soul was roused, so that, in a single day, I have said as many as a hundred prayers and in the night, nearly the same." Patrick said of his ministry, "I prayed in the woods and on the mountain, even before dawn. I felt no hurt from the snow or ice or rain." Patrick's captivity lasted until he was twenty, when he escaped after having a dream from God in which he was told to leave Ireland by going to the coast. There he found some sailors who took him back to Britain, where he reunited with his family. He had another dream in which the people of Ireland were calling out to him "We beg you, holy youth, to come and walk among us once more." He began his studies for the priesthood. He was ordained by St. Germanus, the Bishop of Auxerre, whom he had studied under for years. Later, Patrick was ordained a bishop, and was sent to take the Gospel to Ireland. He arrived in Ireland March 25, 433, at Slane. One legend says that he met a chieftain of one of the tribes, who tried to kill Patrick. Patrick converted Dichu (the chieftain) after he was unable to move his arm until he became friendly to Patrick. Patrick began preaching the Gospel throughout Ireland, converting many. He and his disciples preached and converted thousands and began building churches all over the country. Kings, their families, and entire kingdoms converted to Christianity when hearing Patrick's message. Patrick by now had many disciples, among them Beningnus, Auxilius, Iserninus, and Fiaac (all later canonized as well). Patrick preached and converted all of Ireland for 40 years. He worked many miracles and wrote of his love for God in Confessions. After years of living in poverty, traveling and enduring much suffering he died March 17, 461. He died at Saul, where he had built the first church. Patrick was a humble, pious, gentle man, whose love and total devotion to and trust in God should be a shining example to each of us. He feared nothing, not even death, so complete was his trust in God, and of the importance of his mission. So, remembering all this on the day we celebrate this storied and saintly man…LET'S GET PISSED!

It is fate, both glorious and profound, that two of my best friends have their birthdays on the day before and the day of St. Patty. Jon, who has become like my rock, the steady and immovable presence in my life that reminds me both of how lucky I am and how much I need to improve myself. If you know both of us, you might be scratching your head and asking yourself if it shouldn’t be the other way around, but lately, having a friend like Jon in my life has been a blessing. Anyway, the day of the celebration of his birth was yesterday and we had a little get together at his apartment to celebrate. Jon and I had both worked yesterday so we were easing into our groove slower than usual, but still much faster than the rest. It was a nice intimate gathering that involved beer, lots of beer post the impromptu beer run, some booze, drinking games, 80’s movies (Howard the Duck, The Karate Kid), and even a beer bong. You may ask how people in their mid-twenties still party like this to celebrate their birthdays. The answer to that is that true friends, true times, don’t have an age limit. In my case however, they do have a curfew/bedtime. I skipped out earlier than I would have liked to because I had to work this morning. That didn’t do a lick of good, though, because I still got up this morning with my alarm, turned it off, then called in to work and told them I’d be late and rolled over for just a few more precious minutes. The hangover wasn’t that bad, I can handle beer hangovers pretty damn good…years of practice. I will get a chance to make up for my early exit last night on Friday when Jon is supposedly throwing the official Jon-style party. Let’s just say that work on Saturday may be a little tougher than today, but I won’t be able to call in, so I’ll just have to hang. I endure all this for my best friend, which the kind of commitment that gets you the honor of being someone’s best man. Also, though this is not a revelation, I proved once again last night that I am better at drinking games when I am drunk. I can’t play quarters worth a blunt nickel till I’ve chugged my first one.

Also, today is the celebration of the birth of my friend Fernando. We’ve had many good times, many deep times, many hard times, and many just times through our friendship, but I wouldn’t want any other friend to be my co-best friend than him. I miss him to death now that be lives in Atlanta and we don’t get to celebrate his birthday anymore like we used to, but tonight I guarantee that one round will be in his honor. He’s my Mexican-Irishman. Born on the day when everyone is Irish, he is the greatest.

I don’t have much else to say. I’ve be going on and on about how great my friends are, which is a little weird, but what can I say. Birthdays are reminders of who is really important in your life. There is not much going on in my life right now. I’ve got the house to myself for one more night, which means that sitting around in my underwear as I am right now is both refreshing and not offensive. Work is a bitch, as usual. It’s spring break and I have no plans to go anywhere or do anything other than work and lay around and be worthless, along with the consumption of alcohol from time to time. I should be studying for the exam I have the first class back from the break, but I’m being a little lazy on that one. What do you expect from me, it’s spring m*****f***ing break and I just want to enjoy not having some class to go to a couple hours after work. I don’t have plans as of yet for St. Patrick’s Day but it is only 8PM, there is plenty of time to figure something out. As a matter of fact, I have to take this call…

Who do you trust with your economy?

As I sit here and read news and opinions about America’s economic situation, I am forced to think something so terribly simple that I’m surprised no one has come up with it yet. First, let us consider the circumstances. Economic decline has gripped the country, so to speak. With words like “recession” and “downturn” floating about, you would think that the financial stability of the United States is completely in the crapper. I don’t want to get into a discussion about what caused this problem or necessarily how to fix it. Well, maybe how to fix it, in a round-about way. What I’m trying to get at is that we can probably all agree that there is an economic problem in America and no one can agree on how to fix it.

Back to my revelation, my epiphany, if you will…follow me as I work through this with you. If you are physically ill or want to maintain your physical health, where do you go? You seek out the assistance and opinion of someone who specializes in the physical body, a physician. Makes sense, right? Ok, try this one on for size. If your automobile is not working correctly, where do you take your mechanized machine for service? Let me guess, you said mechanic. Some of you may see where I’m going with this, but for the rest of you I’ll spell it out. When your economy is in the toilet and people are calling out for help, who would you go to? Would you trust your economy with a politician? Would you trust your economy with a business man? Would you trust your economy with a lawyer or a judge? I’m not saying that these aren’t good choices, by any means. They all require some level of intelligence (maybe not politicians) and stick-to-it-ness, but it just doesn’t follow the logic of my other examples. When your economy is broken, why the hell not go to an economist?

I’ll tell you why, because economists scare people. Economists intimidate people is a way that I’ve never seen before. I’m just an economics major, not really an economist by any stretch of the imagination, but when I tell people that, they almost go pale. The words that we use, the theories we spout, and just the general boredom inspired by the very thought of economics are a huge turn off to the majority of the public. But, we have the answers, or at least know what some of the answers could be. I can just tell you this, if we leave the fixin’ of the economy in the hands of politicians (especially selfish, self-serving ones like our current president) then we can expect this “recession” to last much longer than it naturally would.

Set Security Condition Orange

You know that times are tough and the situation is only going to get worse when it is not even safe to live in the “good” part of Garland anymore. My family home is nestled in one of the last sort of “safe havens” in the North Garland area. This is one of those subdivisions that have been able to maintain a certain leave of resident due to homeowners’ association fees and savvy real estate representatives. Don’t get me wrong, I am a man of the people and feel just as comfortable in the lesser neighborhoods than in the upscale, but you expect a certain level of security in those more upscale places. The reason I am writing about this because this weekend my truck was broken into. It was sitting in front of our house, where both my vehicles have sat since I first picked up a license at 16 years old. That means, for almost 11 years, my truck has not been broken into in my neighborhood. It has been hit a couple times and vandalized with an errant egg once, but no theft. I can only blame my new situation, not on the worsening conditions of the neighborhoods around us, where I have on good authority that gang presence and crime is up, but on the current economic situation. It has pushed many to the brink of desperation, and that desperation comes in the form of stealing and hawking whatever you can to make ends meet. Of course, the worthless consumer items that were taken can be replaced and better caution taken in the future to safeguard my belongings, but I can’t shake the uneasy feeling I have about leaving my truck anywhere anymore. That is what bothers me the most. My truck is my castle, my escape, the valuable thing I own and to feel creepy when I’m in it is not good. But what can be done? The police turn a blind eye and cold shoulder to thefts like this because tracking the stolen items is near impossible. And since my auto insurance already took a hit a couple months ago due to my need for speed, I can’t claim the loss without paying for it big over the next year in increased insurance payments. Better to bite the bullet and replace what is truly important and write the rest off to loss.

There is one other thing that is bothering me about this, but more on a spiritual level than on a comfort level. There were many things taken out of my truck: a GPS system, MP3 player, CDs, golf clubs, a work jacket and tools for work; but none of those losses effect me as much as the loss of my bible. They took my bible. Not the one I use all the time and not one that really holds any sentimental value, but it was a bible nonetheless. How bad is it that you take a bible? Now everyone is saying that they were just grabbing everything they could and the nice leather case it was in probably made them think it was something of value, but it is not, not in the conventional sense. You can pawn a bible, no matter how nice the case is. To think what they may have done with it too. If they couldn’t get any money for it, like with my jacket and stuff for work, they probably dumped it in the street or in a dumpster somewhere. Those things, which had value to me because of their use, would be better served still in my possession, rather than being discarded of. Theft is such an inane and worthless crime. No one wins.

This brings me to my heightened level of security right now. They took a set of keys out of my truck which were for the tool box in the back, my storage unit, and a private mail box. So, Saturday, in the wake of the attack, I had to go and purchase new locks for the first two and contact the mail box place about the last one. This rekeying of all my locks has made me appreciate all the places that I need to safeguard and that keeping a set of keys in the truck was just foolish. I now have all the new keys on my key ring. But, I have also begun contemplating getting an alarm system for the truck. I didn’t want to have to do that because I had an alarm on the old truck which barely served its purpose. By about a year in, the alarm was more for just the convenience of have a remote to unlock the doors than anything else. But, I was careless in my choice of alarm and where I had it installed last time. This time, I will probably not spare the expense of having the alarm done by a professional company that I know and trust, rather than the bargain shop that wired in the alarm so bad on the old truck that it took a professional installer 3 hours to remove. It just goes to show how much more important keeping your belongings safe during this downturn will be. No one ever mentions the effects of economic downturns like this. But, I thought I would. Maybe this will make the rest of you think twice about leaving your iPod in your car overnight.

Right-minded women and getting right with the Lord

…inspired by this blog by Meghan McCain (http://www.thedailybeast.com/blogs-and-stories/2009-03-02/looking-for-mr-far-right/)

I’ve realized what I’ve been looking for. It’s every Republican man’s unicorn (a mythical creature that may not exist and impossible to catch), a tall, blond, Right-minded woman. Let me expound a little. Of course there are a vast majority of men out there looking for the tall, blond woman. A good Conservative, such as me, wants to find that combined with the pure hotness of Right (conservative) thinking. So, imagine my excitement at coming across the blog at the link above. Meghan McCain has renewed my belief in unicorns. She’s tall, blond, attractive, and Conservative…what else could you want. Yes, yes, I am a brunette man and in fact have not dated a natural blond or even a committed fake blond before, but I’d be happy to try my hand if she shared the same Right-leaning views I do. Plus, may I say, in my experience, it is hard to find blond Conservatives of any attractiveness. Blonds may have more fun, but their political views are ridiculous. Now, with my completely wild dreams of being president, or at least governor, some day, I would be well suited by a beautiful, smart, Right-minded brunette woman by my side, because they just seem to have it all together. Plus the one or two that I know really well are sexy in how Conservative they are. But, as with the outlandish dream of a Hansen presidency, the possibility of finding a blond woman who could turn me on mentally and politically as much as brunettes can would be nice. Either way, if you take anything away from this inane diatribe it should be this…kudos to Meghan McCain for being political, attractive, and blond. Those guys she’s been dating probably have no idea what they are missing.

I told myself I would not use blogging as a way to bitch about work, but I have to get some things out in order to maintain the thin grip on sanity I have. They’ve cut back our commission structure at work. So, with the considerably lean sales lately due to the economic situation, I’ve taken an incredible reduction in pay. Yes, I may still live rent free and all, but the truck ain’t cheap and neither is this fast-paced lifestyle I lead. Not that you, my audience, can do anything, but if I cut down on picking up the check or heavy tipping, that is why.

I’ve started my Young Adult Ministry Bible study again this week. It’s not really a Bible study, per se, as much as it is a guided Catechetical study. Not how I would typically run things in a Bible study, but I’m planning on parlaying this into a more traditional Bible study once we’ve completed working out of the books we have. I even came up with a name for my Bible study…Unscripted. It is meant to describe the structure of the Bible study, as in unstructured. It will be more of a free flowing, improvisational Bible study that will take us to all/different parts of the Bible every session. No booklets to go out of, no journey through the Bible starting at the beginning, just the group, the Bible, and some thorough thought-provoking discussions. Sound good? I thought so, Jesus just handed that one to me while I was praying in the Eucharistic chapel before the Bible study started on Wednesday. It feels good to start getting close to the Big Guy again.

A man and his dog...

Ok, so after watching Oliver Stone’s W. last night with my buddy Jon we enjoyed a good ol’ fashioned tailgate sittin’. During this usually beer soaked ritual, we discussed what could be the matter with the Cowboys and how we both still felt the pain of watching what could have been a championship season turn into a miserable end. Of course, at that time he asked me to blog about what we had discussed. No, I’m not writing another blog about how the Cowboys just can’t make it happen. Frankly, I’m tired of reading and hearing about what they need to do to fix things and so forth. But that’s neither here nor there. So, as I was walking my dog just a while ago (it’s my day off so I was walking my dog in the middle of the day, what of it) I started to think about the importance of the relationship between man and pet. Not to mention that someone on the cul-de-sac adjacent to my house wrote “STOP ANIMAL CRUELTY” in the middle of the street with colored chalk. I love my dog. He is a part of the family who I even, on occasion, have conversations with. I guess what is at the root of all this is that he is getting old. The whiskers on his chin and around his nose are gray, he sleeps more now than he doesn’t, and he is having breathing problems that resemble asthma, though the vet says he is fine. I’ve already put one dog to sleep in the past year; I don’t want to do it again. A moment of silence please for Kacee Hansen, beloved dog and friend…

So, that being said, my parents are working on finding another dog. I’m not necessarily comfortable with this. I’ve had time to get over Kacee, sure, but I hate to think that we are finding a replacement for Pierce while he is still here. They say, of course, that this isn’t the situation, but it sure seems like it. They are looking for another lab, which is great, but I don’t want to be involved in the fulltime raising and training of another dog unless it is my own. Which brings me to my next point…I want my own dog. Not a family dog, not a friend’s dog, my dog. I’ve thought about what kind of dog I would want. I like Bull Terriers, Australia Shepherds, and Basset Hounds…but I know I would be just as happy and feel probably more fulfilled if I went to the animal shelter and adopted a mutt. Either way, I want, and feel I am ready for my own dog. Think of it as me maturing and losing my fear of commitment.

Ok and one more thing. The Cowboys will not be able to solve their problems until they realize that they have problems. Jerry Jones is oblivious to issues that threaten his team, while his fans continue to call for his head. There, I said my piece.

Into the Wilderness

Today is Ash Wednesday. Depending on what you believe, how you practice, or even if you practice, Ash Wednesday can hold several meanings. For some, it is just another day, annotated on the calendar along with other Christian days of importance. For many, including most Christians, it is the day that marks the beginning of the season of Lent. And, for Catholics, such as me, it is a solemn day of fasting and preparation for the beginning of the Lenten season. Regardless of what you believe or how you believe, Lent offers everyone an important opportunity to challenge themselves. If you don’t understand what I mean, let me explain it to you as I see it being a Christian and especially a Catholic. Lent is the ultimate challenge, the major throw down, the pinnacle of the dare…it is like sitting at the bar with Jesus sharing a drink and him turning to you and saying, “I bet you can’t be a better person for 40 days.” That is right; Lent offers us the chance to better ourselves. No, it doesn’t have to be all about punishing you and giving something up and blah-blah. Lent means improving yourself. I stopped giving up sweets and sodas a long time ago. Now, every year I try to make a commitment to do something better for myself, for those around me, or for my relationship with God. Last year I committed to taking fifteen minutes out of my day for solemn prayer and reflection, every day. It was so awesome and so fulfilling that I often wish I would have made it a habit. This year I will be focusing on myself by trying to get some exercise every day. Sounds selfish and vain, but exercise time is time away from the other distractions in my life, time to focus on helping myself sort through things. Also, in light of me writing this, I have decided to begin writing again. At least twice a week I will be blogging again for the Lenten season and beyond. For my former fans, it will be a lot of the same with a new twist…two more years of experience. For those of you who never experienced my blogging before, it will be a unique and opportune window into who I am and what I care about. If you get something out of it, great…if not, also good, but either way I hope you see what I’m trying to do.