The thin line between fact and fiction was blurred for me yesterday. And what I thought of as uncanny coincidence, my supervisors felt was more of a jinx on my part. I, however, maintain my innocence.

It all started on Tuesday. After work, I went home to relax before I had to go run some errands. I wound up watching a few episodes of South Park, that hilarious show about some elementary school kids and their adventures. One of the episodes I watched was called "Chickenpox." In it, some of the parents decide to send their kids to spend the night with a friend who has chickenpox, in the hopes that they catch it too, while they're young and sprightly enough to "not die."

Pretty funny, to be sure. Only it's partly (or mostly) based in reality. I know people whose parents did just that so that they, too, could catch the [theoretically] once-in-a-lifetime illness.

Anyway, cut to yesterday. I arrive at work, and soon after my arrival I head off to pick up the kindergartners I work with. I picked up two of the three from one classroom, then headed to the other classroom to pick up the third. I entered the room, and was promptly told by the teacher that the boy was out with the chickenpox. And one of the girls I work with from that class was at the nurse's office, being held there because she, too, had the chickenpox.

Needless to say, I quickly left that room, with a cursory "thanks" thrown in just for good measure. With any luck, the parents of these kids will keep them home from school again today, because I'm supposed to work with them. The last thing I need right now is to share oxygen with them. But if they are there, and I must work with them, it sure would be nice to have one of those biohazard suits to wear. That way, at least I'd be comfortable.

Well, St. Patrick's Day has come and gone. My three-day celebration of green is over. All in all, it was a pretty good time. For your convenience, I've lumped the high lights into an incredible bulleted list. Let's take a look.

• One of my goals for the weekend was to drink green beer. Unfortunately, this never happened. I had intended to go to every bar I could until I found one that served the stuff, but never wound up going out. The evening started out with dinner with the folks, and the plan was then to go out on the town. But given Albuquerque's track record for drunk driving, and with my exhaustion (you'll soon see why) factored in, I opted to turn in early.
• Saturday morning, I had to get up even earlier than usual lately. I've been doing training for my job, which takes place at the ungodly hour of 8am each Saturday and goes for four hours nonstop. On this particular day, I happened to have a paper/project that needed to be turned in, and my printer wasn't working. So I had to save it to my little jump drive and then go to Kinko's. Let me tell you about that:

  Phil arrives at 7:38 in the morning (they're open 24 hours). Phil exits car. Phil tries to enter building at employee entrance. Phil realizes he can't enter there. Phil goes to front entrance. Phil walks in and looks around for signs of life. Phil finds some. Phil says he needs to print two copies of his paper. Phil is told that that's cool. Phil watches as life form proceeds to "help" Phil. Phil watches helper person fail, and take five minutes to realize it.

  Phil looks at watch. Phil sees that it's 7:45. Phil sends telepathic message to helper to hurry the fuck up. Phil sees second helper show up and then tell helper #1 that he did it wrong. Phil watches "teaching moment" and sends telepathic message ("I hate you") to both helpers. Phil checks watch again and sees that it's 7:49. Phil says "I just need two copies, pronto" to try to speed up process.

  Phil gets response of "It will only be a moment." Phil watches as teaching moment part two unfolds. Phil decides he hates Kinko's. Phil checks watch once more: 7:54. Phil hears printer printing. Phil sighs with relief. Phil greedily grabs papers out of helper's hands. Phil staples papers. Phil hears helper: "That'll be $19.97." Phil sends new telepathic message: "I hate you even more now." Phil notices that telepathy works. Phil hears helper #2: "No, you did that wrong, it's only $1.79." Phil pays and sends final telepathic message: "I got what I wanted, but I still hate you both." Phil leaves Kinko's by 8:04 and goes to class, where he arrives late.

• Despite the fact that Saturday was St. Patrick's Day, I noticed throughout the course of the day that there was a serious lack of spirit for the holiday. Of the meager amount of people who actually did wear green, most of them only made a half-assed effort at it. Here's a short list of people who sucked:
  • Citizens I encountered at various stores.
  • Target employees--those punks were all wearing red and khaki.

So there you have my St. Patrick's Day report. Chik-a-chik-ahhhh.

Though most years I don't typically get too hyped up about St. Patrick's Day, this year is turning out to be quite different. Unbeknownst to me, and without any actual planning on my part, I will be rocking out the St. Patrick's day theme of green for not one, not two, but three days!

It started out yesterday. In my morning stupor, I grabbed a shirt and put it on. As it happened, it was green (forest green, to be precise). One of the kindergartners I work with pointed out to me that tomorrow (that is, today; he told me this yesterday, so it was tomorrow yesterday) is school spirit day, and we're all supposed to wear green, and wasn't I silly because I wore green today (again, Thursday).

Given that I wore green yesterday, given that I am wearing green today, and given that I will be wearing green tomorrow, I think it's only appropriate that I declare it a full three-day celebration. Even though I don't technically have any Irish heritage (or at least, I'm not aware of any), this year I'm clearly in the St. Patrick's Day spirit.

Perhaps it's because I love a good beer (I'll be on the lookout for green beer tomorrow, too). But honestly, I think it's because I have so many green shirts, all in different varieties and shades. Simply put: green is fabulous. 'Nuff said.

Errgh!! Grumble grumble.

Those are the now-common sounds of Phil now that daylight savings time is in effect once again. Don't get me wrong, I love having all the extra hours of light in the evening. I'm down with the evenings. It's the mornings that get me.

As it was, it was a stretch for me to wake up and get myself to work on time (8 o'clock). But from January until about a week ago, I had the benefit of waking up to sunlight shining through the window. And as a rule, I've always preferred only to get up when the sun is up. To get up before said sun is up is nothing short of cruel.

Alas, it is not to be. This morning, I got up at the magical time of 6:30, and it was still dark outside. Oh the injustice! My sleepy mind screamed for me to go back to sleep, and to wait until a more normal time, and placement of the sun in the sky, before arising.

But yes, I did it. Against my better judgment (or with it?), I got up and started my day. Maybe now, though, I'll get to catch some sunrises. That is, assuming I'm less than half asleep and can actually make my eyes focus on things around me.

When I started into the field of study that is speech pathology, I quickly learned that I was a minority. The speech profession is probably at least 95% female, if not more. This does not bother me, really, and by now I've gotten used to being the only guy. Take this semester, for instance. In my class of about 20 students (give or take 1 or 2), I'm the only man there.

Why this is good:

• I'm easily noticed. I don't exactly blend in, so to speak. This means that everyone knows who I am, knows my name, and knows a good deal about me, all without my having absolutely no idea who some of these people are.

Why this is not good:

• I'm easily noticed. I don't exactly blend in, so to speak. This means that everyone knows who I am, knows my name, and knows a good deal about me, all without my having absolutely no idea who some of these people are.

Here's a quote I often hear, and only from other guys:

• College Guy: "Dude, I've seen those speech girls, they're all incredibly hot!"
• Post-College Guy: "Yeah, I dated a speech major when I was in school. It was great. Good choice of major!"

Most people, at least those who tell me this, either don't know I'm gay or would rather not consider that option.

Anyway, the male:female ratio has never much concerned me. I love my field of study, and am perfectly content with everything as is. However, sometimes things happen that catch me off guard, and remind me just how alone I sometimes am in the field. I offer the following anecdote:

I'm in class last night. It's a 3-hour long class, and even though it's going well, I'm eager for a break because, to use the girls' phrase, "I really have to pee!" When the teacher calls for a break, it's all I can do to keep from leaping over people in class and then running through the building to get to the restroom as fast as possible.

I arrive, and suddenly everything is better. The world is not going to end after all. I open the door to the men's room, and what should I see but a fellow classmate inside, washing her hands. She looked at me, completely calm, and said, "Oh hi. I just popped in here because our teacher is sick and so I didn't want to chance using the women's restroom."

What amazes me is not that she was in the bathroom so much as it was that she was so completely calm about it, as if this sort of thing is nothing out of the ordinary, in fact it is quite common. So now I know, I guess. Even with the few men I encounter in this field, I really am alone. Oy vay.

"Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it."

You might recognize this quote from a certain movie character named Ferris Beuller. However, in its simplicity, I find more than simply a quote. I find in it great wisdom; a way, perhaps, to live one's life.

I am currently guilty of letting my life move fast. Admittedly, I don't feel that my life has taken this turn out of some choice of my own. Rather, a set of circumstances and certain choices have brought me to this point. If your mind works theoretically (and/or linguistically), that same statement could be said of many things.

However, life has a wonderful way of sending little reminders to slow down, and to enjoy the moment. In this case, the message to me was: Phil, you work really hard, you're taking classes, and you have all sorts of responsibilities. That's life pal. So while you're at it, step back, take a deep breath, and enjoy this sunset.

And enjoy it I did. So much so that I attempted to capture it with my camera phone. Sadly, the photos you see below do not do justice to the phenomenon I witnessed. The way the sun played on the clouds, coloring them pinkish orangish reddish yellowish was breathtaking. I know that when I need to be reminded of this, all I must do is step outside.

But the pictures remind me of that feeling of unceasing wonder, and one can never have enough of that.

I don't think I'm alone when it comes to having a list of things I want to do before I die. My list, however, is not one I've written down. This could be because I'd rather be out doing stuff rather than writing down a list of things I want to do. But then again, I write a blog, so I guess that's not a very good excuse.

This past Saturday, the one that happened two days ago, was February 24, 2007. On that night, there happened to be a concert in Albuquerque. It was thanks to this concert that I was able to [mentally, I suppose] check off something from my aforementioned list. Elton John hit the stage, and until the day before (Friday the 23rd, if you're counting), I was sad because I was not going to get to go. Under the impression that the show had sold out, imagine my surprise when a good friend of mine called me up and mentioned that there were still some tickets left, and would I want to go.

To which I responded: "Gosh, let's see... yes!!! That'd be awesome!"

Miraculously, we managed to get quite decent seats, too. The only problem was that, while they were in the same row, there were four seats separating them. We figured that maybe we could ask the people sharing our row if they wouldn't mind scooting over a seat so we could sit next to each other, seeing as there's nothing worse than sharing an amazing experience with people you don't know (if they're cool people, no problem, but we weren't that lucky).

Thankfully, the people in our row were at least kind enough to scoot over for us. I took up residence on the end seat, thankful to be in a position so that I could stretch my legs if I needed to (the concert was held in an arena on the state fair grounds, and we were in the stadium seats, which are notoriously uncomfortable and squished together super close too).

Doors opened at 6:30 pm, and the show was slated to start at 8:00 pm. My friend and I arrived early, around 7:00, so we had time to walk around and take everything in before going to sit down for the show. Once we made it to our seats, we sat down and waited patiently for the show to start. As with most concerts I attend, I wasn't expecting it to start promptly at 8:00. But practically the moment my watch struck the hour, the lights suddenly went out. The next thing I knew, the band was on stage, and the show was beginning.

Elton, decked out in a black suit with embroidered logo and purple glasses, strolled to his piano as his band started up the first song of the evening, which happened to be one of my all time favorites, "Funeral For a Friend (Love Lies Bleeding)." I couldn't think of a more perfect way to kick off the evening, given how the song starts out simple, then goes through five minutes of crescendo before the vocals even start. By the time Elton starting singing, I was completely lost in the moment, experiencing that euphoria that only live music brings.

And so it went, Elton and his band stopping only for a swig of water or to introduce the next song. The evening started out intense, then gradually flowed into some of the softer songs, before suddenly and thrillingly returning to solid rock and roll to round out the full two-hour set. I would have been happy if the concert had gone on all night, and felt that the evening should never end. A few of the highlight songs of the evening were "Rocket Man," "Bennie and the Jets" (I don't really like the album version of this song, but it was amazing live), "Philadelphia Freedom," "Crocodile Rock," "The Bitch is Back," and the must-play song for a Saturday night show to round out the evening, "Saturday Night's Alright For Fighting."

Elton and his band then left the stage, only to return again for Elton to wave at the crowd and then to sign stuff for people standing at the stage. Then the band returned for three more songs, which lasted another twenty minutes or so. Needless to say, I was ecstatic that there was an encore.

To sum up my experience, I have to say it was nothing short of amazing. Despite the huge pole blocking my line of sight, I was able to see the band pretty well. There were giant screens broadcasting the band on stage too, which was fun to watch because that way you could see the bands' faces better.

Throughout the evening, I was completely unable to sit still. Even though we were in the seats, I found myself moving constantly, tapping to the beat, singing along, or dancing in my seat. I found it strange to note that my friend and I seemed to be the only ones into the show. Everyone else around me stared at the stage, many of them stone-faced. How they could all be so stoic in the middle of something so moving is beyond me. On the other hand, I suppose that I must have been downright crazy to them.

Finally, I have two notes to sum up this incredibly lengthy blog entry. (If it was any shorter I could not be doing it justice. Sorry.) Here they are:

• During "Crocodile Rock," a number of people jumped up from their seats and started dancing and singling along with it. I was relieved that at least there others like me. Two rows in front of me, I watched a man stand up from his seat and start "bopping" to the rhythm. He was clapping and yelling. His whole body was moving in rhythm. Except that he had no rhythm, and so was clapping in odd rhythm patterns that were definitely not with the music. And he was jerking so wildly that I thought he was going to have a seizure. Fantastic.
• I always thought "The Bitch is Back" was just a song. Only there really was a bitch present. She was sitting a few seats down from us, and was the only one of the people who were kind enough to scoot over for us who didn't want to scoot over. I figured that she was one of those who thought that the seating police would come by and check to see that everyone was sitting in their assigned seat. After the concert was over, we started gathering our stuff so that we could head out. Everyone else was doing the same, thus creating a long line of people that did not move. As I was putting on my jacket, I heard this whiny voice rudely interrupt our conversation. "Excuse us, we're trying to get out." I looked around and, sure enough, it was The Bitch. Seems someone failed Miss Manners' School for Common Courtesy and Decency.

Should I ever have the opportunity to see Elton John live in concert again, I will definitely be going. If you have not yet had the pleasure of seeing him live, I suggest you arrange to do so as soon as possible. You'll be glad you did.

It's said that nothing garners more comments than a blog. That's an interesting point. If you've never heard that saying before, that's probably because it wasn't said until I just said it. And, at least for a while, it was marginally true (I don't hold my quotes to very high standards).

Yesterday, however, my unfounded generalization was proven wrong. A blog is not, in fact, the thing that can garner the most comments. Nay. Is it then a news article? No. Or perhaps a New York Times bestselling novel? Oy, no. Or maybe an article in Redbook? Uh, not a chance. Give up?

As it turns out, the one thing that gets all the comments is this: Phil eating an ice cream cone on campus. While waiting for my evening class to begin, I find myself wandering around campus, bored and kind of warm thanks to the nice weather. So I hit Sonic and got a scrumptious vanilla ice cream cone. Deliciousness.

I head back outside and continue walking around. As I walk, I am suddenly the target of all passersby, who are clearly drawn to me thanks to my rockin' orange shirt, and also my ice cream cone. It's the ice cream that triggers all the chatter. Here's just a sample of what people, most of whom I'd never before seen in my life, much less talked to, told me:

• "It's a perfect day for an ice cream cone."
• "Mmmmm, that ice cream cone sure looks good."
• "Oh my god. You're eating ice cream."
• "You look so sexy eating that ice cream."*

I practically had to hide the ice cream to keep someone from seeing it and trying to snatch it from me. So as you can see, the ice cream really is pretty amazing. I knew it was good, I just didn't realize how good. But now I know. And so do you.

*The person could have said "Where'd you get your ice cream cone?", but this is probably what they meant.

As a certified "lover of things to be read", much of my day-to-day life is consumed by reading. I've been known to read just about anything I can get my hands on, the only real exception being school textbooks (which are notoriously boring and are generally terribly written). If you're a grammar junkie, you'll notice that I just used two adverbs in that paren. Go me!

Now, where was I? Ah yes. I read a lot. I read newspapers, I read articles, I read advertisements, I read blurbs. The bulk of my time on the internet is spent reading: articles, blogs, instructional and random sites (I spend very little time at video sites, such as this one). As you can see, I have a serious infatuation with the written word (okay, so the fact that I have a blog already gave that one away).

It should come as no surprise, then, to learn that I love to read books. I love all sorts of books, and read a great many of them (both good and bad, though the ones I love are all of the good variety). Reading books, to me, is an escape of sorts. It allows me to escape my own reality, temporarily losing myself in another's, be it fiction or nonfiction. It also offers me a glimpse of another's world view or perspective, or possibly even takes me to a new world. But the fact remains that every single book I read changes me. I learn new things, I think new thoughts, I see the same things through different eyes.

Today, I finished reading an incredible book, one that is part of the inspiration for my new page theme. I finished reading The Drawing of the Three, written by none other than famed horror novelist Stephen King. This book is part two (of seven) in The Dark Tower series, an epic novel about the world's last gunslinger.

I'm not generally a fan of horror, less because the category is creepy, more because it's never much sparked my interest. A good friend of mine told me about this series, and after my brothers all got into it, I decided to give them a shot. To say the least, I'm far from disappointed. After having only finished the second book, I can already understand why I was encouraged to give them a read. They're amazing.

To give you an idea of what I mean, I offer you the following words. Today, while at work, I happened to get a break and so pulled out my book to read. Before too long, I completely forgot that I was there, and was completely lost in what was happening. My eyes could literally not take in each sentence fast enough to satisfy the intense craving in my mind to find out what happened next. And yet, to zip through it too fast would mean to miss out on vitally important information, and thus I had to be disciplined and read it at a normal, agonizing pace.

I succeeded, somehow, and will commence reading the third as soon as I can this evening. I have no idea how people managed to get through these books as they were published one at a time. But there is no question that this will not be the last time I read these books. The sheer complexity of the story, the intricacies of the characters, the brilliance of the ideas, the perpetual sense of questioning, and the philosophical intensity capture my mind and my imagination like nothing I've read before.

I'll say no more now, except that the books speak for themselves. Now, I must stop writing this blog entry and continue reading. If you're looking for a good read, I highly recommend you do the same.

There is one word in the English language whose meaning, for practically my entire life, has managed to escape me. Despite knowing the definition from the dictionary, and using it appropriately in conversation and such, it took me many years to discover its true meaning. That word is 'friendship'.

Growing up, I knew all sorts of people, but I did not label many of them friends. As my older brother put it, cynically mind you, I had many acquaintances. By "acquaintances," he meant that these were people I knew, and who knew me, but who did not truly know me, nor I them. I attribute the nature of my lack of strong friendships to different things, but the two strongest are the following: first, I have four brothers, and we grew up doing everything together; second, my complete rejection of myself did not lend itself to being open to others.

I am grateful to be able to say that, now, the second reason is no longer an issue. In fact, in overcoming my sense of self-loathing and eventually finding happiness exactly as I am, I was able to learn what friendship really means. It was only after making myself vulnerable, and taking a chance on others, that others were in turn willing to take a chance on me.

Now, I have a number of close friends, people I can talk to, laugh with, commiserate with, speak my mind with, and generally just enjoy completely.

That said, I have recently realized that some "friendships" I've had in the past were anything but. To understand this now is trying. Right now, I am referring to one person in particular, whom I thought I knew pretty well. I've been going to school with her for a few years, and we spent hours studying together, and talking.

This semester, we are taking a class together again, and I thought it would be fun to see her more often again. It's been about a year since we had a class together. However, time has a strange way of changing us, and in my case, I have grown a great deal and learned much not only about myself, but also about life.

Periodically I would talk to my friend on the phone, and she was forever saying that we needed to get together again because we hadn't seen each other for so long. I agreed, but ever time I brought it up, it never seemed to be able to work out, on either of our ends.

Now that we're in class together again, that has once again started up, only not as a true friendship should. Instead, I'm finding that I'm being used. Suddenly, I am hearing from her more frequently, asking if I'm on campus and have time to meet up. Not one call just for the sake of chatting or catching up. Only "Did you find the article we're supposed to read? I tried so hard to find it, but I just couldn't so I was hoping you would help me." Or perhaps "I wasn't in class. Did i miss anything important, and if I did, can I get it from you?"

Looking back, I recognize now that this persists because that's the way our friendship has always been. I never had a problem with it when I was so deeply closeted that anything was better than talking about the real me, and that was my own way of avoiding it. I never let anyone really get to know me (not even me), so I kept things strictly "business".

But that is no way to live. After having come out, and finding out what really matters to me, I see that this was probably my perception of what friendship was. This is no longer the case, and I know that that is not enough to sustain a true friendship.

My question, though, is how on earth I can manage to get out of this situation. It is not as though I don't want to be her friend, it's just that I don't feel like she even wants to consider a friendship other than the loose one we've got. As of now, I have stopped offering to help her out, but I don't mind doing so as long as I don't do everything for her. She has made it clear that she needs me, not as a friend but more to just use my good nature to get what she needs/wants.

To me, the thought of continuing and trying to keep working to turn it into a real friendship is no longer worth it. My feelings are not hurt, as I've not invested much in the relationship, nor do I think hers would be. But I am tired. Tired of being used. Tired of holding in when I have opened up to others, but at the same time not wanting to open up to someone who doesn't want to really know me. Tired of being in flux. I am ready to move on. I just don't know how.

The year has barely begun, and already Super Bowl XLI is over. Though I have a number of friends (and family) who love to watch the play offs and look forward to Super Bowl Sunday, I noticed this year that I've been more apathetic than ever before about the event.

Don't get me wrong, I like football (American football) as much as the next chap, but I just can't follow sports (thanks to a combination of lack of time and lack of interest; it's mostly the latter though). Most years, I've been known to give the "I don't care about the game, I just like to watch the commercials" excuse. Even the half-time show, in the past, wasn't bad to watch.

But thanks to the infamous Wardrobe Malfunction, censorship has been taken to a new level, and entertainment is now downright boring. Even if the act totally sucked (read: I detested both the performers and their music), I liked watching the half time show simply for all the glitter and glamour thrown in there (how gay is that!).

I also used to enjoy the commercials, which had a reputation for being innovative and almost always funny. There was something about squeezing in so much thought, creativity, and just clever ideas into 15-20 seconds that fascinated me. Sadly, I noticed an increase in the number of local spots on the air this year (and last year), which were just regular lame-ass commercials.

Still, despite the serious downturn in quality on these two fronts, I do enjoy a good game. This year's game, though, did not grab my attention much, and I found myself completely bored and uninspired. This was evidenced by the fact that I was paying more attention to how much snow and/or rain was hitting the camera, and how that changed the image on the screen. Here's a rundown on some of my thought-processes:

"Okay, the team in white, I think that's the Colts, have the ball. Oh wow, look at the rain, just coming down in sheets, I'm glad I'm not out there right now, that must be a real drag. Hey, look at how the moisture affects the camera! Oooh, ooh!! The droplets are moving! Oh, man, now the camera looks all foggy, cool. I wonder what it's like to be a camera man in that position, having to move and trying to see with all the snow getting in the way. I'd probably try to wipe it clean with my hand, and that would smear it pretty bad, and I'd probably get fired. But not until after the game, so that wouldn't matter. Oh, geez, it's got to be hard to hold onto or catch a football in this weather, no wonder every time I actually pay attention to what's going on, I see a fumble...."

And so on. Short story short, I didn't even finish watching the game, opting instead to spend time chatting it up with some friends and eating, two of the main reasons for even having a Super Bowl to begin with (that's a fact). In conclusion, I am left with only one question (an inevitable one, to be sure): was your Super Bowl celebration even half as lame as mine? Do tell.

Oh, and before I forget, I have to add a final point of peculiarity. I stopped watching the game after half time. In a text conversation with my brother, I predicted shortly thereafter that the Colts would win 30-18. Needless to say, I was surprised (and miffed, too) to discover that my guess for the winning score was dangerously close. The Colts took the game, 29-17. Wow.

I am a concert fiend lately. I simply cannot get enough of them. I already let slip the fact that I saw Mamma Mia! last Thursday, which was wonderful. And then came Friday, a day for which I'd planned well before Thursday's show.

Friday kicked off my first rock concert of the year, and I could not have asked for a better show. Headlining the show was punk/metal giants Senses Fail. Opening up for them were The Sleeping, Alexisonfire, and Saosin (pronounced "say-oh-sin"). To see the show was great would be a serious understatement. It was unreal.

One of the things I enjoy about live music is the energy. It's amazing to get caught up in the moment and lose yourself in the music. After a show, I find myself constantly playing everything back in my head, sad that all I have left of the evening is a memory. But that memory holds strong, and with each show I attend, I crave more.

Thanks to the fact that four different bands played on Friday evening, I got to see a variety of styles for performance. Each band is unique, and has something different to offer.

• The Sleeping: These guys are an interesting group. They were a pretty good opening act, but their music wasn't particularly good. However, their stage antics were spectacular. Specifically those of the singer. Imagine, if you will, a guy with a crew cut trying to head bang. Now imagine this same guy grabbing his microphone with both hands, swing his hands above his head, and then swing them down in a chopping motion (like an ax). Now add an occasional jump and side kick, and you've got their singer. I'll say no more.
• Alexisonfire: Definitely the most fun band of the evening. These guys hit the stage and rocked nonstop through their entire set. Band members ran around stage, singing and carrying on like crazy. My personal favorite was the bassist, who was the only member of the band with long hair. He had a full beard, and rather than short and/or spiky hair, his hair was about shoulder-length and parted down the middle. As he played, he'd swing his head left and right, causing his hair to fly constantly. Overall, the band blew me away, and I went from barely having heard them before the show, to a converted fan. They rock.
• Saosin: Next up was Saosin. These guys are the reason I even went to this concert. An amazing blend of talent, Saosin did not disappoint. Probably what amazes me most about them is not only the music that completely draws you in, but the lyrics. It's amazing to me that people can put words together in such a powerful way, and each time I hear those words, they strike new meaning for me. I hardly noticed all the action of the crowd (which I've chronicled below) because I was so mesmerized.
• Senses Fail: The headliners of the concert, they also happened to be the ones for whom most people went to the show, which led to the show being sold out. Going in, I wasn't familiar with them other than name and a song or two. They put on a good show, though I didn't enjoy them as much as the two previous bands.

All in all, a damn fine show. It wasn't without its share of drama and scary and/or stupid stuff. Here's a glimpse of what I saw from my vantage point of a table in the bar area, viewing main stage and the crowd in front of said stage:

• There was the usual mosh pit. That's right, the usual circle formation in the crowd that forms, where everyone jumps and runs around, trying to hurt each other.
• There was plenty of crowd surfing. It got pretty rowdy, and people were crowd surfing like mad. I saw a lot of shoes being held up in the air, as well as other paraphernalia that got detached from its owners.
• The average age of the crowd was like 16. Though I do feel a tad old amongst all the high schoolers, I really don't care. There was one high school couple, however, who sucked. Face. The entire time. They were right in my line of sight from my vantage point to the stage, and they made out through probably 75% of the show. $20 make-out session, check.
• While watching the crowd surfers, I saw a number of people leap above the heads of the crowd, only to get dropped shortly thereafter. Most of these folks managed, miraculously, to get up without incident. One girl, though, was not so lucky. She got knocked out, and I watched the bouncers drag her out of the theater. That was pretty nuts.
• Speaking of bouncers, several fights broke out throughout the evening. Presumably, these were sparked thanks to the glorious mosh pit. But each time one was either about to start or just barely had, the bouncers were already there, breaking it up. The fighters didn't stand a chance, as the bouncers are so fucking awesome at with they do. Kick ass.
• After Saosin's set, the people cleaning up their equipment removed the drum heads and tossed them into the crowd. I was nearly hit in the face with one of them, but luckily had quick reflexes and turned sideways and then caught the thing. Afterward, I was accosted by multiple people (adults; parents of kids at the show?) who wanted to take the drum head off my hands. One lady asked if I would donate it to her son, who was "really sickly" (uh, yeah, that's likely), and another was a guy who put his arms on my shoulders like we were best pals and asked if he saw me catch the thing. To them, and all others like them, I had three words: Fuck off, bitches.*

Well, there you have it in a nut shell. What concert craziness (stories) have you experienced?

*I would have thought the kids would be more keen to ask me for the drum head, but none of them seemed to care. Those that commented simply said "That's cool, man, you got a drum head!", and then went on their merry way. The moral of the story is this: the crazies you encounter at shows are not always who you might expect.

Warning: Stream of blogginess ahead.

Last night, I took a chance and went to see a touring Broadway production that was in town. That show was none other than Mamma Mia!, the smash hit musical featuring the music of pop wonders ABBA. I can't call myself a fan of ABBA, mainly because I don't know enough of their music to be able to do so. But I do know some, and it was enough to really make Mamma Mia! thoroughly enjoyable.

If you've never heard of this show, the basic premise is this: A girl wants to get married, but wants to first find out who her father is so that she can live her dream of "finding out who she is" and "doing the whole wedding thing right". The story flows along, and the songs of ABBA are sung throughout. I imagine the initial idea for the show went something like this:

Person #1: Dude¹, I have this totally great idea for a show.
Person #2: Okay, dude, let's hear it.
Person $3: Is it that totally lame idea we talked about the other day, about some silly girl who wants to get married? Puh-leeze!
Person #1: Dude, shut up!... Well, yeah it is. But I had a brilliant idea! We should make it a musical, and, and, and totally use ABBA's music to go along with it. It's totally perfect!
Persons #2 and #3 Gasp! It is! It is!

Okay, that's probably just my warped imagination at work there. The show originated in England, so British people, to my knowledge, don't talk like that. In fact, I don't think the word totally² is even in their vocabulary. They probably were having tea when the idea originated, then progressed, and finally came to fruition. But I digress.

To put it simply, this show is fabulous! The simple story line leaves lots of room for humor and fun, and what's even better is that the characters themselves are so important to the story. Add much singing and dancing, and you're looking good. Make them songs you already know (or have at least heard once or twice), and you're golden.

At the beginning of the show, I was sitting next to a woman who was "excited" about the show. Of course, she described herself as a "huge fan of ABBA" (despite her small stature). And while she seemed excited to see it, she also seemed keen to be ready to trash-talk should it not live up to her standards. Luckily for me, I had a seat mix-up and got to switch seats, so I never did find out if Mrs. Cynical succeeded in her quest for disappointment.

Mamma Mia! is two and a half hours of sheer fun and good entertainment. While at first I thought the music was simply being played from CD or some other prerecorded device, I was delighted to notice a conductor in front of the stage. Sure enough, there was an orchestra in the pit, replete with big drums and plenty of synthesizers. The music was so crisp and sounded so good that it was impossible to not tap my foot along with the beats.

And, as you may have guessed by the title, by the time they sang "Dancing Queen," I was all set to jump in and dance along with them. The energy of the cast and the music was positively contagious. By the time the show was over, I was full of energy that I didn't think I could contain. Luckily, I was in for a treat in the form of an encore of three songs. The entire cast got out on stage (20-30 people, or thereabouts) to sing and dance to some of Abba's most famous songs. Six of the cast got all decked out in classic Abba gear (the silver platform shoes/boots were my favorite).

So here I am, away from the show but left with vivid memories of a truly enjoyable evening. "Dancing queen, feel the beat from the tambourine..."

¹The word "dude" is gender neutral. At least in this context.
²If you have a sense of humor, this comment might strike you as funny. Or not. If it doesn't, rest assured that it's not true. And that's why you should be laughing.

Egad, it seems I'm horribly delinquent for one of the coolest blog challenges ever. As it turns out, the goal was to have this entry posted by Friday. I missed that one by a long shot, to say the least. But, since I am so late in posting this, at least I'm fashionably so. Perhaps Joon and others can find it in their hearts to forgive me. In any event, here is my very own entry into Joon's Lyrical Challenge!

These are the lyrics she presented me:

"Well if you wanted honesty, that's all you had to say.
I never want to let you down or have you go 'it's better off this way'
For all the dirty looks, the photographs your boyfriend took."

And now for my creative writing piece using these bitchin' lyrics. I have no idea what they mean, or of the context within the words. As a sort of disclaimer/introduction, let me set the scene for what follows. I sat down to write a story, one that would somehow make use of the lyrics within character dialogue. As often happens when I write, what I set out to write and what got written are two very different things. Despite several attempts, a story never congealed. Instead, I ended up with an odd sort of poem. So please enjoy my entry into Joon's lyrical challenge:

Well if you wanted honesty
You'll have to take a piece of me
I'm 100% pedigree
Stable as a tree

That's all you had to say
I don't want to hear that it's okay
Things should be better on this day
No longer out in the fray

I never want to let you down
If I did, you'd surely frown
And toss away your evening gown
Please just do not drown

Or have you go
Stepping foot over toe
To overcome a hateful foe
Progress is so slow

'It's better off this way'
Things are merry and gay
I think I'll go and play
Before things look too gray

For all the dirty looks
Noses between the pages of books
Keys all hanging on the hooks
Waiting to be grabbed by crooks

The photographs your boyfriend took
Are scattered now along the brook
And some within a cozy nook
These memories of mine you took

After reviewing much of what blogland has to offer these days, I have noticed some new trends in blogging here on 360 that need to be documented. Periodically, I've seen some of my friends on here blog about some of these trends. In the past, I've seen whole compiled entries about them. This is one of those, and consists of entirely new and mostly undocumented trends.

For the fun of it, I have opted to make this sort of a "How To", or tutorial if you will. Should you have the urge to blog according to any of the standards set below, consider this your one-stop resource. Along with each trend, I offer a simple and easy-to-follow guide for how to be such a blogger.

And so, to kick off the year 2007, we have seven current and entirely new blogging styles, January edition:

• Inspirational Blogger: If you want to share with the world your faith, all that you have learned about said faith, pertinent facts of life from said faith, and/or how you overcame incredible obstacles, this blogging style is for you. It's easy! Simply take all those tear-jerker email forwards you get, remove the text that says "FWD", and post as your blog entries. Be sure to preface each one by saying it made you cry when you read it, and that had you not come across this, you would surely not be alive and well.
• Wannabe Blogger: You want to be popular, and--what ho! What better way to become popular than to become an avid blogger? Start a blog, then post at least fifteen entries per day, all within about 10-20 minutes of each other. For each entry, don't bother to think up a creative title. Just click "compose new entry" and type away anything from gibberish to coherent words. Don't forget to find quotes, varying from silly to philosophical, to use for individual posts. Oh, and never forget your LOLs, ROFLs, and IMHOs.
• Questionable Blogger: Life is full of mystery, and you want every question that pops into that head of yours to be asked. What are you waiting for? Start a blog! People all over the world are waiting to read what you have to say, and are even more interested in adding their two cents to whatever you want to ask about. Be careful, though. Make sure you don't sound like you want to actually discuss any of your questions. You just want the comments and the attention. Here's a sample blog entry: "What is the meaning of life? Why are we all here? And why are we forced to actually find food and other ways to survive if that isn't the true meaning of life? And why the fuck are dogs so happy all the time?" If you want to make it as this sort of blogger, you must take yourself very, very seriously.
• So-So Blogger: You want to get the hang of the whole blogging thing, and notice that many bloggers often have a casual air about their writing. Well, attaining that "cas" style is a piece of cake! All you have to do is start off every single blog entry as if you've just picked up somewhere in the middle. Impossible, you say? Nah, just use words like "so" or "okay", or a combination of them, and you're good to go. See? It's simple as pie. Also, remember to include plenty of extraneous information to whatever you write, or else it doesn't seem chatty enough. If you need, use this example to get started: "Okay, so the other day I was getting my nails done and this, like, total bitch walked in and started mouthing off to me. And I said, like, 'shut up, Barbie, what do you know.' But yeah, so anyway, that's not the point. So I was sitting there thinking about how I really want to get some of those new Stilettos... I know!"
• Apologetic Blogger: You've been a regular blogger for some time now, and at the moment, life seems to be so busy that you don't have much time to sit and blog. Rather than simply not blog other than when you have time, therefore ensuring good quality blog entries, post an entry every few days declaring just how busy you are, and apologize that you don't have time to post blogs or read anyone else's blogs. Keep posting these same entries so people know you're still around and can give you attention.
• Interesting Blogger: You've been on 360 for a while, and have no doubt been quite taken by the Interesting Pages. You notice that the featured bloggers that are deemed "interesting" all seem to have a little something unique to offer. A style, perhaps, or a certain trademark type thing going on. So why haven't you been picked yet? You're interesting, by golly! There's only one solution to your problem, and that is to become a veritable one trick pony. Every blog entry you post must fall under your self-proclaimed theme, and you must never stray from it. Posting at least once a day, if not more, is the only way to get noticed, especially for your little theme to catch on. Sure, it's not ideal, and you might lose some of your creativity and ideas might lose out in the process, but hey, you'll be a star.

And finally...

• YouTube Blogger: Whether you're a newbie blogger or a seasoned one, if you're addicted to YouTube, you should become a YouTube blogger! Toss aside any reasonable use of embedded videos, such as to show one cool video, or perhaps to use a video to help make a point, or better yet to show off something you yourself filmed and edited. It's time to let YouTube do the blogging for you! Surf YouTube for hours on end, copying code for each video you watch and think the world of. Put them all (minimum of 7 videos) into a single blog entry, and post away. Never worry about actually typing anything in yourself, save a small preface or a title and/or description above each video. Bloggers everywhere will surely love you for being such a video sleuth, and no one will curse you for using up all their bandwidth and making navigation away from your page a pain in the ass.

That concludes the January 2007 edition of Blogging Types. If you have noticed any types that seem to be missing, that are also new and exciting, please say so, and I will be sure to get them documented for a future edition (maybe February).

Only twelve days into the 2007, and I'm already experiencing yet another new thing in my life. Think I'm talking about something happened to me? Guess again. Something that happened to someone else, maybe? Good try, but nope. Something that changed my life completely? Not exactly. But then, I'm not all that dramatic (plus, the life-changing event happened a couple of weeks ago). I'll give you a hint. It's something that is marked every year by each and every one of us, it's met with either eager anticipation, exasperation, indifference, or dread. Or maybe a combination of some or all.

If you guessed that this day is a birthday, you got lucky! Today, in fact, marks 23 years of life for yours truly. It's interesting to think back to past birthdays in terms of where I am in life. Here's a quick rundown:

• 18: Yay. I'm 18. That means I'm legal, and I get to register for the draft. But I'm an adult! Woo hoo!!!!
• 19: Well, another year gone by. College is fun!
• 20: Oh my god, I think I'm gay. What am going to do?!!!
• 21: I've waited a whole year, and I'm still gay. This does not look good. Maybe I'll tell someone. Scary thought.
• 22: Okay. I waited another year. I still seem to be gay. But I'm cool with it now. Actually, I'm happier now that I'm cool with it. I have a blog. I've met cool friends who are supportive and awesome. Time to tell everyone!
• 22 years, 11 months: I have to do this before I'm 23. Can't take this closet thing anymore. It's not even a walk-in closet. I think I can handle it in real life now.
• 23: My first year to start off being exactly who I am, inside and out, online and off. Fuck yeah!

So in this reflective sort of way, I'm greatly looking forward to a new chapter in my life. Indeed, although I've had 22 birthdays before this one, this is the first time in my adult life that I am free to be exactly who I am. I have a fresh start, a new outlook on life (a new and wonderful change from life as I had known it a year ago), and am happy to celebrate life. And so I greet this birthday with eyes open wide, eager to enjoy every moment, to welcome the new and bid adieu to the old. On this day, my birthday, I can truly say that I am happy.

*Note: The picture of the hot-air balloon just goes to show what a proud Albuquerquean I am. I'm hard-core Albuquerque, baby.

In the world of eating, how often is it that one comes across perfection in a peanut butter and jelly sandwich? Granted, these sandwiches are generally amazing, no matter the brand of peanut butter or the flavor of jelly. Not only are they astoundingly easy to make, they're delicious to boot. In fact, every time you eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in front of another person, you spark jealousy. I'm not even kidding.

Now, imagine that among all the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in the world, you have one that will trump them all. No more is mere jealousy involved. No. A path will be beaten to your door for this sandwich, it's so amazing.

It's almost too good to be true, and believe me, upon eating this version of that delightful mix between two slices of bread, you'll swear that you just reached nirvana. By now, your mouth is probably watering, and you want to know what on earth could possibly be this good. The answer is this: Peter Pan Honey Roast Crunchy Peanut Butter. Here's a picture. It's the one on the right:

So wait are you waiting for? Go straight to the store and get this stuff, along with your favorite jelly (my favorite happens to strawberry preserves, not jelly) and a loaf of bread, and go on a picnic lunch/dinner/snack. Once you do, you'll never be the same. Trust me.

You might be looking at that picture and wonder why the devil I posted it as part of this blog entry. Here's some thoughts you might be thinking: "Could it be that Phil's upcoming 23rd birthday on Friday has finally made the man senile? Has he totally forgotten who he is? He's gay!" You'd be right to question me. Lucky for you, I already have the answers.

What you see pictured above could well be a marketing ploy aimed at young males, but I am not part of said target audience. Yes, she's voluptuous and beautiful, but no, that's not why I bought the product she appears on. Several years ago, a friend of mine came up with the following piece of advice: never judge a CD by how hot the girl is on the cover. I think, in my case, that I truly do follow said advice. Anyway, what you see there is a CD cover. A CD for which, upon my recent purchase, I have become heartily addicted.

The group's name is Hinder. The album: Extreme Behavior (refer to cover, pictured above). I heard these guys mentioned in passing among friends, and heard fleeting clips of songs on the radio and on friends' iPods. While out shopping, I found it on sale and decided to give it a listen. I did not regret doing so.

What I heard was a wonderful blend of rock music, fun and catchy lyrics, and let's not forget to mention a certain addictive quality to the whole mix. Hinder showcases a unique talent in the Alternative music scene. Influences range from all sorts of musical styles. There's rock rhythms, alternative lyrics, blues chords, and even some country-style vocal qualities thrown in for good measure.

For those who like to compare artists, I would say they could be (regrettably) compared to Nickelback (more for the vocals than anything else, really). Basically, take Nickelback and remove pretentiousness and the sell-out side (Nickleback was much different--and better--in their early days, but that's another story), and add a lot more talent and quality sound. That's Hinder.

As you listen to the album, you'll find yourself repeating tracks over and over, hanging on to singer Austin Winkler's every word. You'll find everything from the subtle to the obvious. And every time you listen, the lyrics seem to ring with some new and different idea. From tracks like "By the Way," "How Long," and "Lips of an Angel," Hinder will surely leave you singing along, and humming their tunes when you're not even listening. So go ahead. Give them a listen. You'll be glad you did.

It's been far too long since I posted anything creative, and so it's high time I do. Lucky for me, Atarishark posed this incredible challenge, and I was keen to give it a go. It's the perfect excuse for me to get back to my dormant creative side.

But first, remember that you, too, can do this!

Here's the rules...

1. Story should be no longer than 5 paragraphs, but can be any length.
2. Someone must die, it doesn't have to be an important character.
3. A baby must cry, sometime during the story, and can just be in the background.
4. You must loosely include one of these phrases:
   • She always hated fig newtons.
   • Wildcard games are nothing without at least one dip.
   • The lettuce and tomatoes were always fresh.
   • That door would never be opened again.
   • Clouds were afraid of this part of the world.
   • She never once said anything about love.

So those are the rules. Even though I'm pretty rusty, here goes...

At the corner of 5th Street and Legend sat Tanya. She had been sitting at the bus stop for nearly ten hours, and had yet to move. Buses had come and gone, and still she sat motionless. The beat of her heart and the periodic blink of her eyes were the only signs of life. Despite this, she saw nothing and no one. At this moment in her life, Tanya was afraid. Afraid of what would happen if she went through with it. Afraid of what would happen if she did not. Afraid of what others would think of her either way. Afraid, indeed, to continue on.

As she sat, Tanya's thoughts shifted to her past. She saw herself as a child, carefree and happy, yet to be jaded by what her life was to become. She saw herself on the pages of yearbooks, smiling for the sake of capturing a child in time. She saw herself growing into a woman, exhilarated by thoughts of all that life had to offer her. She saw herself in a beautiful white dress, saying "I do" to the man she loved. She saw her first and only child crying, and then subsiding as she scooped him up into her arms.

Though both her husband and child were well, Tanya felt dead inside. "How could I feel so empty when I am clearly so blessed?" thought Tanya. She stirred suddenly, and looked about her. The sky was darkening, as the sun began descending beyond the horizon. A woman, huddled in her coat, hurried by. The wind blew, and leaves scattered in front of her. Tanya gazed at them, admiring how leaves are magnificent in both life and death: green in life, then changing color as their time comes to an end.

A man approached and sat opposite Tanya on the bench. "Excuse me, sir, could I trouble you for the time?" inquired Tanya. The man said nothing, but turned his head in her direction. Thinking he had not heard her, Tanya asked once more. Again, the man made no reply. He looked at his watch, and then looked up as he heard the sound of the approaching bus. "Right on time," he muttered, and stood up to wait for it.

Tanya stared, transfixed. She had neither been seen nor heard. As the man climbed onto the bus, Tanya reflected on the recent horrors of her existence. What was could never again be, of that she was sure. Her life was no longer that of one living. That door would never be opened again. No more could she be there for those she loved. No more could they see her and make happy memories by her side. With this in mind, Tanya made up her mind. Though it broke her heart, she arose from the bench, and strode toward her old home. Her loved ones may not ever see her or know her again in their lifetimes, but--and at this she smiled, at last making peace with herself--she would be there for them for all time to come. And maybe, just maybe, they might feel her as she felt them.

To wrap up my notes regarding my recent road trip adventure (also chronicled here and there), I end with an interesting true story. If you've ever taken a road trip (if you haven't, stop everything and go on one immediately), you're already well aware that the long hours spent on the road inevitably consist of periodic stops to use the restroom.

Quite often, gas stations prove to be convenient spots to stop. For one thing, there's gas. Second, there's food and drink available. And most times, there's restrooms to use.

While some of these gas stations are of the simple, ordinary, everyday variety, others are not mere gas stations. They're truck stops. Replete with down home cookin', diesel gasoline, and an unusual array of products for sale, including (but not limited to) electronic equipment, cassette audio tapes, movies, food, newspapers, etc.

It is at one such place that this story takes place. I groggily enter the truck stop, tired after having been napping in the car while my brother drove. I stumbled in and quickly found my way to the men's room. Cut to when I'm washing my hands, about to make my exit. As I scrub my hands, a truck driver walks in. Nothing out of the ordinary, right?

Wrong. Attached to this man's ear was antiquated blue tooth headset (the headset contained a black cord that connected to the cell phone). Apparently, the man was having a conversation on the phone. Sadly, I've encountered people who use the phone while they're taking care of business. So this, at least, was old news.

But never have I heard anyone say the following:

"I'm in the bathroom. I'll give you ten guesses about what I'm doing. No man, I'm in the bathroom. Yes. Uh huh. I'll give you ten guesses about what I was doing when you called. No, really. Yes. No shit, man, I'm taking a piss. Yeah. Ten guesses, I said..."

Yeah. That's the first time I've heard anyone actually advertise to the person they're talking to where they are and what they're doing. I would have thought the echo of his voice, thanks to all the tile in the place, would have given him away. But apparently not, considering how many times he repeated himself.

As appalling as this is, I find myself wishing that I could have heard the other end of the line, just so I could hear the person's reaction. And now for a poll, not so much to glean some information from you, but because I haven't done one of these in a while.

POLL:

Have you ever seen someone in the bathroom talking on the phone? (results shown in parentheses)

-Yes, of course! It's waaaay common. (5)
-Heck no! No one would ever do that, it's just gross. (2)
-Yeah, and I've secretly wished that their phone fell into the toilet. (12)

After recently returning from a week-long road trip with my family, to visit family, I am left with much that has been on my mind. The trip was nothing short of wonderful, minus of course the eons spent traveling in the car. Prior to leaving town, I came out to my family.

I was, and still am, elated. But we embarked on a trip to visit family whom I see only once a year, and who do not know. This caused for a number of awkward moments, for my part. I did not come out to any of my extended family, nor do I see any reason to. My immediate family are the most involved in my life, and thus the most important ones to me. I am content, at least for the moment, to maintain this status quo. However, awkwardness cares not about such a choice. Here are two examples why.

• I'm walking the mall with my great aunt. She's always on the lookout for nice Jewish girls for me and my brothers to meet, so naturally she brings this up. I converse politely. Suddenly, she asks, "Have you tried JDate? I hear it's wonderful." Of course, the site is a dating site for Jewish singles, and since there's no such thing as a gay Jew in many people's minds, there's obviously no category for a guy like me (on JDate, that used to be true--you selected 'man seeking woman' or 'woman seeking man'. I just looked at the site, and discovered that there is now a way for a man to seek a man. Very cool.). Anyway, I quickly respond that, no, I haven't tried it, and oh wow! Look at these wind chimes! The sound is exquisite!
• Talking to my brother about one of his gay friends and his lack of fashion sense (I'm not the only one!), my cousin interrupts and says "I don't care what those people say, that's just not natural. It's, ugh, it's just not." That was cause for an abrupt end to conversation such as I had never before witnessed.

Everything is so new to me, at the moment, that I did not seek to argue or attempt to alter any familial notions about reality, or about me. Part of this lays in the fact that some of my extended family is of such religious conviction that, were they to find out just how fantastically gay I am, they'd probably never have anything to do with me ever again. And considering I adore them all, and they adore their perception of me, I'm not keen to change that, especially considering I see them only once a year. Perhaps in the future, this will change. But for the moment, I'm perfectly content with the acceptance I do have in my family, and do not require any more.

The big snow storm has now passed. What a relief, I thought. Surely things will quickly resume something resembling normalcy (not that anything in my life is normal, but you get the idea). But, oh! How wrong I was! For now that the storm has passed, we are left to deal with the aftermath.

The clouds broke, we got some fog, and then we got sunshine. People walked about, seeking to return to life as we desert dwellers usually know it. All went well, for about ten seconds. Why, you ask? Well, I'll tell you. To complement the snow, we've had freezing temperatures. At night, it's been getting below 15°F, a temperature that has a nasty tendency to freeze any form of precipitation.

And so, beneath all the beautiful snow is lots and lots of ice. Ice under the snow. Ice on sidewalks. Ice on stairs. Ice on the roads. Ice. Ice. Ice. Admittedly, I do fancy ice skating from time to time. But not when I'm just walking around outside. Thanks to all this ice, I've had the following incidents happen to me. Feel free to sympathize.

• Slipped on ice.
• Slipped on ice and nearly lost my footing, barely avoiding a fall.
• Slipped on ice, lost my footing, but miraculously managed to catch myself before I fell.
• Slipped on ice I couldn't see (sometimes termed "black ice", but mostly just when it's on asphalt--this happened on a sidewalk), and had nothing or no one to hold onto. Plus, the patch of ice was like five square feet, so I was doomed the moment I set foot on it. I knew that attempting to leap into a fabulous triple lutz would be dangerous, if not impossible, so I did my best to glide smoothly on through, and for a fleeting moment thought I would make it. That is, until my feet were suddenly no longer vertical with the rest of my body. They shot forward, using the force of inertia to trigger a new momentum for my body. Suddenly, they were moving so fast that there was nowhere to go but up, and up they went. And, conversely, down went the upper half of my body. Arms went flailing, eyes bugged out, vocal chords vibrated in the form of a yell, and down I went. Sideways. In slow motion, I watched my feet climb higher into the air. Then, with a quick switch into real time, I fell quickly and met the ice-covered pavement, landing squarely on my right hip. Almost as quickly, I used my hands to push myself up, and climbed to my feet, half expecting my leg to suddenly detach itself as a result of the fall. It did not, however, and I was able to walk away, bruised but otherwise unharmed.
• After this near brush with death, I suddenly become ice-phobic. I suddenly have OCD, and every step on or near either potential or real ice must measure only one inch. Even with these cautious baby steps, I slip on more ice.
• I go for coffee (well, hot chocolate) with a friend. After closing the door to the car, I turn to start the trek inside. I've barely moved when I slip on ice and nearly kill myself. I grab the car, short of breath, adrenaline pumping through my probably-icicled veins.
• I get braver again, walking on ice (I can't avoid it, it's everywhere) once more. Still cautious, mind you. I continue to slip, but less life-threateningly than previously described.

I am pleased to report that, though I still have to walk on ice, I'm still here and still intact. And, truth be told, I'd like to keep it that way.

It's 2007, a brand new year full of hope, promise, but most of all life. And I'm posting an entry utilizing a blog tradition started by my friend Dave. As you may already know, I generally like to stick to my own ideas. Though I always love others' ideas, I like to let them stay their ideas and not make them my own. However, fate/coincidence is such that I could not resist this one. In December, I reached my 3,000th comment on my blog. Given that it was a comment from none other than Dave, I thought it would be fun to invite him to take part in his own blog tradition: the guest blog. So without further adieu, I give you Dave.

30 Seconds of Fame

There was a time growing up when I strived to find my 15-minutes of fame. I have yet to come across the singular defining moment, accomplishment, or chance encounter that creates the aura of cause celebre. Over the years, I have found myself on television: Bozo’s Circus (I missed out on being picked for the Grand Prize Game by one kid) and local access in Oregon the result of which is that I’m sure that somewhere my name appears on a file in the FBI archives-—but nothing truly newsworthy.

There are those that have elicited the beginning of fads. I remember the first Streaker, racing through a sporting event. Word spread and so did the cheeks of many a runner. And in one of the few “follower” moments in my life, I too streaked. Erno Rubik created a strange little puzzle, but would anyone remember him or the origin? Not likely. Instead we are left with the legacy of a multi-colored cube.

Fifteen minutes of fame could also be seen as 15 minute of infamy. For a die-hard Cubs fan like me, the name Steve Bartman will endure. But for 99% of America, his name will melt back into the landscape of life; his brief bout with celebrity has passed.

Now, it seems that the length of fame has compressed. Our lives are downloaded, uploaded, and turned into a ZIP file. We text message, instant message, and send our mail electronically. Our phones have become our workstations and our window to the world. Wherever we are, we have the opportunity to take our personal experiences and spread them across the world.

No longer do 15-minutes of fame retain its power. We are now living in the Age of the Soundbite. The standard for fame has been compressed into 30-seconds. Our blogs, our YouTube clips, and our Flickr files offer the world our creativity and humanity. Men, women, and children from school-age to retirees are sharing their lives like no age before us. Lip-synching, dancing, puppet shows, and edited remixes find astronomical viewership in short periods of time.

This page has been viewed 967,566,333 times since 2pm.

It has been such an accomplishment for the World, that we—-you, I, and everyone out there making their mark in the Internet—-are being recognized as TIME's Person of the Year for 2006.

I, for one, will not take this honor sitting down. I will continue to strive for that one self-defining moment of idiocy that catapults me over the 1 million “hit” department.

Though I’ve been stuck at home as a result of the snow, I have been enjoying it immensely. Once it stopped snowing yesterday afternoon, after having snowed nonstop since the day before (about 32 hours nonstop), there was about a foot and a half of snow on the ground. For the sake of perspective, consider this: Albuquerque, for the last few years, has averaged less than ten inches of snow per year.

It was fun to watch the snow falling, and to see everything get covered in white. I love looking out on the snow. That sense of peace, and quiet, as snow blankets everything in sight is very calming. Not so calming, however, is the prospect of driving. Mostly, I refer to driving in the snow here, not somewhere else. It snows little enough here that people tend to go crazy on the roads. No one knows what to do! It’s bedlam. I’ve been keeping my eye out for snow plows, but have not seen hide nor hair of any. This might seem odd, but honestly, this happens so infrequently that there probably aren’t many here. But I digress.

Yesterday, I ventured outdoors to survey everything, and wound up playing in the snow. I waded through snow that nearly reached my knees, which was, to say the least, really, really fun. I romped through the snow enjoying making tracks through the flawless powder. I managed to snap a few pictures with my camera phone, and this time they’re not fuzzy. I hope you like them.

Remember this tree?

Well, this is what it looked like a day later (and much less fuzzy):

Here’s a view from above:

And check out my car. That’s how much snow was on it after having cleaned it off three times. There’s a reason I stayed home all day.

But I didn’t just walk around and stare at everything. I got creative and made a snow alien.

He blends in pretty well, so I outlined his form to make it easier to see him.

I even got a picture of me and the alien together.

And finally, per my friend David’s request, I tried (unsuccessfully, mind you) to catch a snowflake on my tongue.

Just how much should one believe weather forecasts? This modern form of predicting the future is cool and interesting. But I know little about it, and so won’t go on about it. And besides, that’s not the point of this blog entry.

The point is that I had heard rumor (from people I know) that yesterday and today would showcase snowstorms. I missed the previous snow, which brought an astounding ten inches of snow to some parts of the city, since I was on a road trip. I love snow, and so was naturally thrilled to hear rumor of more snow.

However, when I checked the weather services, all that was in the forecast was cloudy skies and perhaps some rain. The old standby “possible snow showers” was there, but only vaguely so. This morning, to my delight, it was snowing heavily, and has been snowing all day. So far, there’s about six inches of snow on the ground, and it continues to fall. It’s beautiful and serene, and I’m loving every minute of it.

I managed to take a couple of pictures with my camera phone. I have posted them below, for your enjoyment. They’re good and fuzzy for the effect, of course, because I wanted them to look cool. I promise it has nothing to do with my having used a 1.3 megapixel camera phone that doesn’t focus well. Honest. Oh, forget it. Just enjoy the pictures already!