Death

A friend of the family died last week. I'll never see him again. It's a weird situation, because while I never saw him that much and I wasn't particularly close to him, I respected him a great deal. He would have turned 60 next month, but he looked no older than 50. I think his secret was his passion for life. He had the uncanny ability to know his strengths and to do those things better than anyone else. He was a chef. He was a barber. He was a boxer. He was the best storyteller I've ever met. He knew unfathomable details about UFOs and other alien stuff. Anyone could have told me about him and I'd believe it.

"Did you know Raymond once climbed Mount Everest?"
"See that scar on his arm? That's from this one time when he got into a fistfight with a bear. He had stitches in a few different places, but he was out of the hospital within a week."
"Raymond has a collection of 2000 sonnets that he wrote when he was on a mission in South America."

I haven't really gone through the whole grieving process yet. I'm wondering if it will come at the memorial on Saturday. I think the reason I grieve is that--besides missing the person who's passed--I'm afraid. I'm afraid of dying before I get everything done. I don't think anyone gets to do everything they want before they die, but a lot of people have a goal in their life that they reach. I know Raymond has achieved a lot, but he seemed like the person who always had something else that he wanted to do. Sometimes I'm afraid I'll die with my dreams left miles away.

I want to have kids, I want to be a writer, I want to be in a band, I want to travel the world, I want to do so much, yet despite all the time I have before I die, I just keep hitting road blocks. I dream about all these things, but when I have to do some little assignment that will push me towards those goals just a small step, I have trouble doing it. I look at the big picture and resent all the little things I have to do that don't help me get to the end result. My resentment turns to neglect, and that's why I'm a 5th semester sophomore.

I want to write now. I want to be in a band now. I want to travel the world now. I'm not ready for kids yet, but there will come a time. I know I can write. If I were in a band, I'd put forth 100% effort--but until I think I have any semblance of a chance to be in a band, I'm not going to. My life is a constant Catch-22.

That's what makes someone like me so different from someone like Raymond. I have lots of different goals--I always think about myself as a person who's slightly above average at a lot of things, but not great at anything. Raymond was great at a lot of things, because he had the ability to keep everything in perspective. I lack perspective. Raymond could work hard at all the little things, having the wisdom to realize those little things would get him where he wanted to be.

There's one puzzling thing about Raymond, though. For all his wisdom, he made a big mistake. My dad said today that he was kind of mad at him for it. He hated going to the doctor. It's the reason he died. He died of colon cancer. The tumor was the size of a clenched fist, because when he turned 50 he never got a colonoscopy. Cancer tends to spread to other parts of the body when it gets that big, so when it did, Raymond was past help. He went through treatment and everything, until about a month ago they told him he had a couple weeks, maybe a couple months left.

Is it better to burn out or to fade away? Something tells me Raymond is the type of person who was never meant to live too long past his prime. I've always believed that was the best way to go--to not wear out your welcome on Earth. I think I might be singing a different tune, though, when I'm on my deathbed and I still have unfinished business to take care of.

A few years ago I went in for a physical and the doctor thought he felt a lump. I spent the next two hours terrified I had testicular cancer. I'm not sure I fully realized the gravity at that point, but I think now I'd likely be knee-deep in my own stool. Anybody who says "Don't fear the reaper" isn't dreaming enough.

As I usually do, I just turned a sensitive subject into a smug, rambling mess. To attempt to compensate for that, I'm just going to use my last paragraph to say my goodbye to Raymond.

Raymond, you were a great man, an even nicer guy, and you lived maybe the richest life of anyone I've ever met. I don't know if you accomplished everything you wanted to, but take some satisfaction in the fact that you accomplished more than anyone I'm ever likely to meet. Your life was a full one. I believed in you the whole time. You gave hope to everyone who knew you. Thank you.

On Thanksgiving Day, you were the one person I wish I had around to thank. I know this doesn't matter much now, but it's the best I can do. With you in mind, I'll do better from now on.

Idealism

Okay, if by this point you don't know that I frequent a couple message boards, you might as well find out now. One is a Weezer-related message board. It started with Weezer.com's message boards, just discussing my favorite band. As generally happens to a lot of people who post on that board, I migrated to another section on the same board called "All Things Not Weezer," which is basically just a general chat message board.

Sometime earlier this year, Weezer.com underwent a large overhaul, thus completely changing the format of the message boards along with the rest of the site. Most of the ATNW regulars didn't like it, and migrated to an alternate message board at Weezernation.com. Besides that board, some people I'd grown familiar with joined another alternate board that was more personal and with much less traffic. So now I post on the new boards at Weezernation.com as well as the other board, which is called FBIHOP (you'll never guess what it stands for; it's an inside joke).

The boards are sort of like a weird mix between a blog, a chat room, and a debate club. There are boardies from a number of different countries--mostly American, but there a good amount of Canadian, Mexican, European, South American, and Australian boardies as well. Due to the personal nature of some of the topics, people get to know each other. Sometimes they even meet up. On rare occasions boardies have even become romantic interests. It's like an online subculture. Almost all the regulars are known by real names rather than online aliases.

Anyway, the reason I bring this up is that often times I find some of the things I write on the boards are interesting enough to be brought over to this blog. I haven't done it yet, but I've thought of it a lot. Most times I'll end up making a topic about it rather than writing about it here, since on the boards I'm more likely to get more feedback in a timely manner. There's also a lot less pressure because I'm very unlikely to ever run into the people I'm talking to. I don't have to worry about offending anyone or being rejected or any of that personal crap. It's somewhat liberating.

This time, I decided I'd bring over something I posted on the message boards. There was a topic about the ten things you look for in a romantic interest. The reason I brought this over is that I came up with ten really good things in a short period of time, and I figured it's good food for thought for my readers (if I actually have any--I honestly have no idea if anyone at all reads this thing).

So here are the official ten most valued qualities (in no particular order) I have in a member of the opposite sex, with added commentary for each one:

First of all, I wouldn't call these "requirements" per se. I tend to be a realist when it comes to dating, so I find that there's a low likelihood that I'll find a woman that loves me and still holds all these qualities.

1. Almost as smart/as smart/smarter than me.
There may be nothing more attractive than a pretty girl who knows her shit. Some people are intimidated by brains--I might be too, but in a good way. It presents a challenge, a challenge I'd accept with open arms.

2. Massages my ego (and maybe my aching body, too).
I'll admit--I'm pretty self-centered at times. But at the same time, I'm self-conscious. I'm an attention whore. Like Chris Rock said, "Women need food, water, and compliments...and an occasional pair of shoes." Well, I need food, water, and compliments too.

That body massage thing was an addition I just came up with. It's one of my life goals to date a masseuse.

3. Attractive enought that I think I don't deserve her (This is not necessarily a high standard).

I find the majority of girls pretty. And like I said, I'm self-conscious. I think I look good myself, but I think other people find me not-so-good-looking. I tend to be picky with celebrities. I don't know what it is, but I think if someone's going to be showered with praise for her looks, she should be flawless, and I don't see it with a lot of celebrities.

But find me a girl next door and I'm a happy man.

4. Can hold her own in an argument (The good kind, not the shouting kind).

Anyone who's ever spent 30 minutes hanging out with me knows how much I love a good (hell, even a bad) argument. My friend DJ and I once argued for roughly an hour about whether the stress in "Green Day" goes on "Green" or "Day." My father and I once argued for 15 minutes about whose fault it was that he locked the doors before I got out of the car, forcing me to unlock the door twice before exiting.

A lot of times my arguments with my friends end in an anti-climactic, half-hearted "Okay Kevin, you're right," just to get me to shut up. I understand, my argumentative nature is often viewed as obnoxious and rude, but I swear I don't mean it to be. I just like a good debate.

If I'm going to spend the rest of my life with a woman, she's gotta keep me guessing.

5. Can cook.

"I like to eat. Is that such a crime?" --Dewey Finn, School of Rock

6. Cleans up my messes for me.

I'm a messy guy. I don't know if I'll ever be the organized type, but I highly doubt it. It's not in my genes. I need someone to pick up after me, because I am a child.

7. Pushes me to do better.

This is sorta related to the previous one. I'm not organized, and I lack the ability to motivate myself to do most things. But if I have a motivator behind me, making me do something I need to do (by any means necessary), I'm a freaking stud.

8. Makes me laugh.

It's not very hard to do, because I laugh at almost everything. But some people just don't mesh with my sense of humor. I'd say 90% of people can make me laugh, but with that other 10%, it's bad. Laughing is one of my favorite things to do, so while not hard to do, it's still very important. It's kinda like showering everyday.

9. Responsible enough for the both of us.

I have self-control issues, as is obvious by my physical appearance as well as my spending habits.

10. Likes to make fun of people who take themselves too seriously.

I'm generally apathetic in most aspects of life. That's why I like to make fun of people who are dedicated to stuff I find frivolous. I live my life by making cracks at these people--sometimes in my head, sometimes to my friends. If there's someone to be made fun of, I'm making fun of them. It's always nice to have a partner in crime, though.



So there's my Ten. Like I said, it's fairly unlikely that I'm going to find someone that fits all 10 of them, but here's hoping. If I do find my "perfect ten," if you will, it's likely I'd be head over heels.

Obviously there are bonuses that didn't fit into this ten, like some amendments to the attractiveness factor, or the ability to be the next Joni Mitchell or something, but putting those in there would be just plain unfair.

I don't know how to finish this blog, so I'm going to throw in some romantic song lyrics.

Are you gonna take me home tonight
Ah down beside that red firelight
Are you gonna let it all hang out
Fat bottomed girls
You make the rockin' world go round

Hey I was just a skinny lad
Never knew no good from bad
But I knew life before I left my nursery
Left alone with big fat Fanny
She was such a naughty nanny
Heap big woman you made a bad boy out of me
Hey hey!

Jinx

Today I was driving to the doctor's office, and I thought, "This car hasn't had a problem in a couple months." [This is a long time for a car with 12 years and 110,000 miles under its belt.]

Shit. I have most definitely jinxed myself.

I'm really good at jinxing things. For example, I have worn my Terrell Owens jersey three times this season. The Eagles have lost every time I've worn it. Until Sunday, they'd won all the other games they'd played.

It's not just the Terrell Owens jersey, either. I also own a James Thrash jersey and an Irving Fryar jersey. Soon after getting the Fryar jersey, he retired. A couple years later, he un-retired, signing with the division rival Washington Redskins. He also neglected to return his retirement gift (a motorcycle) to the Eagles. James Thrash went from a decent wide receiver to a terrible one as soon as I got his jersey for Christmas. He was later traded to the Redskins.

It seems that more often than not, jinxes will come back and haunt you. Even though I'll take perfect care of my ancient Ford Explorer to counteract the jinx, I know it's going to have trouble within the next couple weeks now. If it doesn't, I'll probably forget about it, though.

That's the thing about jinxes: you tend to forget about them if they don't come back to haunt you, but if they do, you'll remember it for the rest of your life.

The real test here is a jinx I made that I'll never forget. I was thinking about when my grandparents died once, and realized that all the deaths occurred in a four-year pattern. My dad's mother died in April of 1995. My mom's dad died in May of 1999. My dad's dad died in July of 2003. I fear greatly that my mom's mom will die in 2007. It would undoubtedly be the most guilty I've ever felt in my life. I may have killed my last remaining grandparent.

But maybe not. Like I said, it's the jinxes that don't happen that become the forgotten ones. Chances are, theyre have been far more failed ones than successful ones.

By the way, please don't buy me a Donovan McNabb jersey for Christmas.

Rip Van Winkle, Eagles Fan

Rip awakes from year-long sleep, yawns, and stretches out arms.

So, did we win a Super Bowl yet?

No?

Okay, so we got close then. Well, that's a start! Maybe now we can get over that hump like that NFC Championship Game. I bet T.O. really helped us in the playoffs last year!

He didn't play? What?

Wow, I thought we'd need a great wide receiver to get to the Super Bowl for sure. They must have gotten killed in the Super Bowl.

No? Well, what did they do without T.O.?

Wait, he didn't play in the playoffs, but he did play in the Super Bowl? I bet the other team's defense really keyed on him then.

No? He had over 100 yards receiving? How could you lose like that? It mustn't have been as close as it seemed, with T.O. racking up garbage receiving yards like that.

So it was close the whole game? How could T.O.'s yardage be such a non-factor?

So it was Westbrook they keyed on. Well, maybe with that one year of mutual experience together, McNabb and T.O. will break some records this year.

T.O.'s not playing the rest of the year? Did he get hurt again?

But he was so happy to be in Philadelphia! The Eagles must be pretty confident in their season so far to get rid of a guy like that!

They're in last place? WHAT?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING, ANDY? Todd Pinkston can't carry the receiving corps on his own!

Wait, TODD PINKSTON'S OUT FOR THE YEAR TOO?!! OH MY GOD, WHAT'S GOING ON?!

REGGIE BROWN? WHO THE FUCK IS THAT?!

MCNABB'S HURT TOO?! OH SWEET JESUS! I'M GOING BACK TO SLEEP!

Rip takes a high dosage of Nyquil and passes out.