Three Times a Bride's Maid ... Always a Friend?

Jevon left yesterday, and I was there for that but it didn't seem emotional. Maybe it's the fact that I'll see him again in January, or maybe I was just burned out from doing my paper at 5 a.m. Still I didn't get emotional.

Not that I got all Dick Vermeil-like when Kajsa and Dylan left, but I did feel sad to see them go. Kajsa has always been someone I could gripe about classes with, while Dylan would share his keen observations about the quality of life, all while keeping a level head. Beyond that, they were my friends. I will truly miss them both next semester.

This morning I went to work, fell asleep on shift, and ran around like a chicken with my head cutoff. There was no PC supervisor today so I was forced to play mother hen to the entire helpdesk. Rolling the phones so customers could call us was the easy part.

About 30 minutes into my weekly Friday-morning, 8 a.m. love fest, one of the PC consultants -- Jon -- came over with a question. He had a customer on the phone who needed to assign room privledges in Cornell's network calendar program. Ironically, he came to me with questions no more than 2 minutes after I had explained to the other macintosh consultants how I didn't know anything about the system. Of course, I get paid to know these things (or at least pretend to), so I had to help the consultant find the solution.

It was easy in the end. The person wasn't connected to the network, which is why they couldn't assign privledges to other users. Of course, that took 25 minutes of web searching, brow beating and stomach churning to come by. The next thing wasn't so hot either.

Apparently one person had called us four times in one hour. Everytime they asked a queston, got the answer, thanked the consultant and hung up. Around 10:30, the onsite supervisor came over to me.

"I need you to give me a consultant," he said. "We're going to need someone to get rid of a virus on this machine."

Sure enough, he handed me a sheet filled with complaints about viruses, firewalls, and crazy other things I had never even heard of. The fixes seemed simple enough, but judging from the number of calls the user gave us, they were computer illterate. They were also some administrative assistant to the graduate programs. I sent Jon to go deal with it. He was going to be at the call center all day anyway, so I figured a break from the phones couldn't hurt him.

Jon ended up allright, and so did that computer I sent him to fix. We also had an irate woman come in and bitch about her laptop being slow. It was actually old, but we turned some buttons on to make her feel better. Then I did myself in.

I began playing fishy (www.xgenstudios.com).

It's such a simple game, and from watching it, you'd think it was easy, or a waste of time. Once you start playing it, however, it's something else. It grows on you, eventually becoming an addiction.

I've never had crack, and after fishy I don't want to. I don't think it would be as good.

I "crashed" from my fishy high around 3 p.m., when I returned home to run a few errands on the commons. I went to the bank, mailed a book to my brother, and then climbed the steep hills of Ithaca back home.

That's when I learned Kajsa's dad was coming around 6 p.m. Originally, I thought she and Dylan were going to head home around 2 a.m., or something like that. I really didn't understand what they were planning on, but in the end it made sense. The original course of action was to sleep for a while, then start back to Wisconsin. Instead they decided to go right home.

We loaded the car with garbage, and they dumped it. We then loaded the car with their belongings and headed to dinner. Dinner was great, and we talked about the semester, recapping the high points (not having anymore bats made my list), and joking about the things we would be doing over break. Along the way, the topic of Kajsa's being a bride's maid came up. Since being asked to fill the position, she's also been overtaken by a great fear: three times a bride's maid, never a bride.

Earlier in the year, Dylan and I joked about having Kajsa be a bride's maid at our weddings, and making sure to get married before she did. Then, if she did go to this upcoming wedding as a member of the bridal party, she would have been a bride's maid three times.

A laughter-filled "Oh no!" was her common response, as it was tonight when we told the tale to her father.

Kajsa's dad is a really cool guy, but I didn't expect anything less after living with Kajsa for nearly a full academic year. I'll miss the lazy afternoons watching WE, and waking up in the evenings to find our living room full of strange and wonderful people, playing games on Echo's high-class tables. Kajsa -- you were truly the life of the apartment -- spending your time on as many fruitful activities of scholarship and friendship as possible. Dylan, Jevon and I merely struggled to keep up.

And tonight, as the three of my apartmentmates have departed, it appears I have failed to do my "keeping up." Alone, I have fallen behind, resigned to spend the night in an empty apartment.

Safe journeys my friends, on whichever interstate you may be travelling. While the months between now and our reunion are many, perhaps tonight we will reminisce in my dreams.

Now excuse me while I go get all Dick Vermeil-like. Anyone got a tissue?

Wow

Just got to watch the Spider Man 2 teaser (it was some sort of members only preview -- I'm a dork like that). Just one more reason why I'm excited about July. I should have been doing work, but it was well worth the minute distraction. Oh well, back to the grindstone.

Stalled

So tonight we had a formal fraternity meeting. I can't write about it becuase I'm not supposed to write about the covert dealings of the fraternity. I'm also not supposed to write about the house's covert business transactions ... what ever that means.

Anyway, we had the meeting. Then we all cleaned up and went to dinner. There was also a huge snow storm going on outside, so before we went to RPU we had a giant snowball fight.

I think Tabari was the loser in it all, only beucase he started it. A black man in a winter wonderland is an easy target, especially when he aggrivates everyone.

Dinner was also great becuase we made the grill people give us all of the mozzarella sticks they had. They didn't want to at first, but when we started going up in four-man shifts, they gave in.

We also took over the mongo line, made tons of loud off color remarks, and stole a bottle of soy sauce. I credit the soy sauce stealing to S-Com (pronounces "scum"), or the house's stealing committee, formed for the purpose of getting us free rock salt from unlocked university sheds and buildings. I know soy sauce and rock salt are like apples and oranges, but we've got to start somewhere. Think baby steps people, baby steps... Of course, I suppose I shouldn't have written about that, seeing as how it would most likely be covered under the house's policy of "covert business transactions..."

After dinner, we went and did donuts in the local church parking lot. Yeah Ithaca Excitement! Seriously though, it was great. We had two suburu outbacks, and we had them wheeling and squeeling like fat people at an all-you-can-eat pork rib bar-b-que. We stalled a few times, but eventually got the car going again.

But now it's time to do work. I've got to pound out three pages of an english paper before 1:30 p.m tomorrow, and then finish a take-home final for my comm class. Oh Friday! Why did you ever have to end?

Maybe there's a future in all this

So the Kajsa, the boys, a room full of guests and I enjoyed The Two Towers on the big screen tonight. It was a great setup thanks to Jevon, who rented the projector and DVD plaer from work. We did a little rearanging, and after about 30 minutes of setup, we had a mini theater in our living room.

Sometime during the night, Kajsa made reference to my posting about last night.

"You might have a future as a romance novelist," she said.

I never thought about writing novels. I'll have to see what I can come up with over Winter Break. For now, however, I'll have to be happy with writing papers. Just two left before I'm done...

Incubating Gloria with 12 Holiday Hangovers

So I went to bed Thursday night around 3 a.m., depsite the advice of the Gannett people who had given me a flu shot. I'd just gone 14+ hours with the weakened flu strain in me, and I was starting to feel it. It was incubating. I had also finished 11 pages of my final comm paper, revising the four pages the group had sent to me as well as our original six. They were now all translated to English, and semi-coherent.

Unfortunately, the massive amounts of caffine in my body prohibited me from falling asleep right away. Where I had originally planned to get up around 6 a.m. and do another two to three pages, I ended up not getting to sleep until closer to four. As a result, I hit the snooze button several times, one of which I actually turned it off. This resulted in me jerking awake at 7:50, frantically pulling on clothes, and rushing to work.

At least I got my daily run in ... sort of...

Work was work. While on shift, I managed to effectively decrease the size of the queue, and finish up a scholarship essay. Afterwards, I went to go see Brian Earle. He was supposed to write me two letters of recommendation, but needed some reminding. I would have to return to the comm department later that day to pick them up.

Distraught and foggy-headed, I started home. I finished my paper in my room and sent it to Jeff (the professor). Then I headed back up to the ag quad to pick up my letters.

I ran into Scott Jones along the way, and seeing him was like seeing my brother. Scott and I, and even Alex and I, have bonded in an amazing way this semester. I hope I can keep in touch with both of them over the years, so we can share life's high points. I'd like to even say I'd invite them both to things like my weeding (should that happen someday), but it probably won't happen. Scott would just run off with my fiance and make her fat.

Professor Earle's letter was amazing. With my other clips, references, and accompanying materials, I think I might actually have a shot at the NCAA Freedom-Forum Journalism Award. I really want it, not for the money, but so I can say I won an NCAA award. I think it would be a cool thing to tell my kids about.

I then speed walked to the post office on the commons. It didn't take that long to get there, although I cheated and ran part of the way. I was filled with a nervous excitment. Though I don't think I'll win the NCAA award, I knew that if I didn't get it in before postmark, I'd never really know. It now rests in God's hands.

I went home and watched some TV to kill time until the next big thing. It just happened to be a suprise invitation to dinner on North with Rachel. It was great to see her again and catch up. She also happened to pay me a great compliment, that the two of us have bonded to the point where even though we don't see each other often, we can still make great conversation. I like that.

After dinner, I came home and sat in the living room with Jevon. The boys and I got ready to go to the Hangovers' Holiday party. I was a bit apprehensive, but after thinking about who would be there, I decided to go. I like all the guys, and enjoyed my time in the group. I imagined I would enjoy my time at the party, too.

I did.

Sam, Jeremy, Adam, Ben, Doug, Doug, Evan, Arnold and even John Cape (despite not being in the group) were all there. (Dylan, Jevon, and Brian were there, too, but I live with them, so they don't count.) I love those guys. They always know how to have a good time, and tonight was no exception. There was a ton of food, and some great stories were shared.

Then around 11 p.m., I truly began to appreciate my time at the party and Cornell.

She was tall and well proportioned; a bright-eyed brunette who carried herself with a slight air of sophistication and grace as she entered the room. She was dressed in earth tones that covered nearly everything except for a slight band of nicely-defined skin at her midriff. Shoulder length hair fell ever-so-slightly to frame her gentle face and smiling eyes. Her lips were thin, and her cool walk betrayed her. Every motion seemed to give hint of the burning passion for living that smoldered within.

Even though she was on the other side of the room, I was intoxicated, instantly.

She ended up in John Cape's room, but I knew they weren't doing anything more than talking. For the two of them, it was an escape from the rest of us -- a place where they didin't quite belong. The Hangovers sang in the common room, while the two of them conversed in John's room.

Eventually things broke up. Dylan and Doug wandered back, and I followed. Dylan and I entered the room a few moments later, joining the conversation as we did. Midway though, I introduced myself.

Her name was Lauren, but I thought she said Gloria. Of course, I took that incident and did what I enjoy most when meeting someone new -- I called her by the wrong name all night, even when we parted company. I loved the look she gave me when I did it.

We laughed about it at first. She of course appeared annoyed, but it was playful. We didn't even flirt, we just talked -- but it was probably some of the best conversation I've ever had at Cornell. We joked about everything, and even postulated on the six-degrees of separation theory, noting that it could probably be done within three or four at Cornell. All you needed was a Kevin Bacon, in this case, any hotel student.

She mentioned that she read my columns, and even remebered my last name from print. It was flattering to hear that from a total stranger.

I was in and out of the dog house all night, though. At one point, she tilted her head back and laughed at something I said. While she did so, I caught a glimpse of fillings in her mouth. I ventured a guess at how many she had. It was a mistake on all accounts.

If there's one thing you're never supposed to ask a woman, it's their weight. If there's another, it's got to be how many fillings they have. Lauren took great offense to this question, and even took a personal affect of mine as a bargaining tool. In the end I ate crow, and begged for forgiveness on my knees. I told her I was geniunely sorry, and that I wanted to marry a girl like her someday, even though I knew I wouldn't be good enough for her. She didn't seem to buy all the BS I was selling, but she took enough of it to give me my card back.

All in all, it really opened my eyes as to who you just might find if you happen to be in the right place, at the right time.

Not that I want readers to get the wrong impression. She has a boyfriend, and from the way she said "you don't look like your column moniker," I'm assuming I'm just not attractive enough for her. Though I would clearly jump at the chance to get to know her better, I doubt it'll ever happen.

Still, for one night, I was the guy who had the ear of the most beautiful girl at the party. And tonight, for me, that's all that really matters.

Let it snow

Ah-ha

The snow's been in Ithaca for a week and I'm starting to hate it. I'm running out of long sleeve shirts becuase I accidentally left them home over Thanksgiving. I've only got three papers to do until I can go home, and possibly an exam. I say that because if my group wins it's extra credit project, then we get an overall A+ in the class.

Cool, right?

Except for the fact that our professor wrote us all e-mails today accusing us of cheating. He said our work was exemplary. He also said that it was too good to be done just for this project, and wanted to know what other class we did this for. Of course we just did it for the project, because we want/need A+'s. It'll be interesting to see how this plays down.

The boys at 711 invited me and 58 others to go caroling this Saturday. I'm definitely there, and think I can bring some other people. I'm kind of excited about this, but am not completely sure how it'll turn out. Matt is always able to generate massive interest in his events (see flashmobbing), but 58 carolers could be a bit much. Ah well ... the more the merrier?

Now it's off to bed. I've got to get to work early tomorrow.

The Score

165, 93rd percentile, and that's good enough for me. I've got column a and c filled out, now I just need to bring up my GPA and I think I'm looking at a top 20 law school for next year.

A beautiful walk

It's kind of like a long, beautiful walk to no where.

The road keeps winding, you stop along the way, you think you know the end. You do not.

The sights distract you, and though you admire the beauty that surrounds you, you also know that you can never be a part of it. Time is fleeting. Your time is short, and in the end you are just a slice of what is, what has been, and will be.

Along the way you realize this. Not caring anymore, you live for the now, for the experience. You run, you cry, you laugh, you love, you lie, and in the end you live. The sum equals the whole.

Above all you fear. You fear missing out. You fear losing. Above all, you fear being alone.

In the end, you just want someone to share your slice of time with. Time spent together passes lightly, time spent alone is hell.

And so, at the request of a friend, I return to posting.

Stealing e-mail

So I'm pirating a wireless internet signal, since our router has been on the fritz. I guess, that means I'm stealing my e-mail.

I skipped my classes today. Instead I did LSAT work. I ran through an online workshop and took a full test. I scored a 165 today -- much better than I had been doing previously. The best news is that I haven't even improved on LR yet, meaning I can only go up from here (provided I work on my assumption questions).

Otherwise, the week from Hell continues (seems like I get a lot of weeks from Hell). I am now going to start reading for paper No. 1. Then I'll write part of it, go to bed, get up and write the rest.

Interruptions revisited

So I realized I never posted that really "cool" event from a few weekends ago.

It went like this...

Owen had to go pick up Rob so he could shoot the cross country match. We were excited beucase Rob has an amazing eye for photography, and we didn't have any pics of the current cross country team. I decided to tag along, because I had nothing better to do until 7, which is when we were going to interview football players.

It was the best thing I ever did.

Upon our arrival at the course, we instantly spotted the team. Things were awkward, though. I know a lot of the guys, like Greg, Emory, Mike, and Zeb -- so it was cool to watch them -- but it was also awkward just kind of standing around with them.

Then Rob got ready to do his thing.

Our plan was to shoot the beginning and then the end of the course, but that soon changed. A few minutes after we figured out what we'd do, Rob spotted the University's photog with a golf cart.

"He's got a golf cart, how come I can't get one?" Rob joked.

The good thing was that Owen and I took him seriously. In our minds, Rob is one of the allstar photogs, and what Rob wants, Rob gets. We walked in and asked the woman at the desk what we had to do to get a golf cart. She was nice, joked around with us, and then asked us who we were. I pulled out my card.

I could tell she was confused, so I explained things again. Eventually she caught on and handed us the keys to golf cart No. 12. The only problem was that No. 12 didn't exist. We scoured the lot, but couldn't find it to save our lives. In the end, we exchanged it for a different golf cart and took off.

We lined right up on the course, behind one of the markers.

"If they're running into that, they've got bigger issues than hitting you guys," said one of the coaches. I took it to mean that the runners were off course.

They ran right at us, and then around us, and after Rob grabbed his initial photos, we sped off. We followed Zeb, and the photographer from Army. They seemed to know their ways to the mile markers. All I knew was that I should duck when Owen drove through the trees.

The experience was amazing, and I liken it to chasing game in Africa. Not that I have ever done that, but I imagine this is of a similar appeal. Another, more reasonable, comparison may be made to the movie twister. One minute you're driving through the back woods linining the course, next you've swung a hard right and hit a pack of runners.

It was very cool, and something I look forward to doing again.


----

Since my last few postings, I've seen Antigone (amazing both visually and for it's deeper message), hit up some parties with Christian and Matt, and taken some more LSAT tests.

I'm stalling on the LSAT. I'm stuck at 161. I have one week to go up five points. I hope I can do it.

---

This weekend is Yale. I'll be hitting the road in a few hours, and we'll actually be staying with Peter (and Alex, although Alex is away this weekend). I'm excited to see Peter, and Una. It should be good times.

When I get back, however, I need to do work. Most importantly, write my game story. Next I need to read for marketing. Then I need to work on my papers for Comm 420 and 450.

So sweet, yet so bitter...

Flash Mobbing

There will be a flash mobbing evet later today --

http://people.cornell.edu/pages/mpn8/flash.html

Are we monsters?

Last night, another sports editor and I broke a story about a student death, and now I feel sick. We were all ravenous to break the news, but in doing so, did we cross limits? I think so.

It was so surreal to see the body bag being wheeled out on the street. A student -- it could have been someone I lived with -- died. At the same time, we heard a rumor about it being a student on the wrestling team. I knew who to call, and sure enough I did, and we recieved a vague and brief statement. It was something I shouldn't have done.

It didn't seem to corroborate anything. It wasn't pertinent to the story. Someone had died -- we confirmed that -- they were a student -- we confirmed that. That's it. From a news standpoint, we have a who, when, where, and how. Why will come in time. A definitive who is not necessary.

But apparently it is to some. After a heated debate, sports left. We left the newsroom. Without us, we would have woken up tomorrow to a university alert. We broke the story, and now the news department has very possibly broken our trust. Our section has a great relationship with C.U. athletes. Well, atleast we did...

Tomorrow may bring a different story.

Eureka

This man has diagnosed Cornell's problem perfectly. Now if only we could figure out the cure...


http://www.cornelldailysun.com/articles/8989/

The Best Sports Day Ever

More to come on this during Sunday afternoon. It involves chasing the cross country team in a golf cart, and not having to wait for hockey tickets.

Don't look back

So there's this story in the bible where these people are fleeing Soddom, the wife turns around to look and then poof! She turns into a pillar of salt.

I didn't do that, but I did go back to read some of my articles tonight. My field hockey ones are all cut and dry, starting out the same, so I used them as an example for our Compets. A bit of "don't do what Johnny Don't does..."

Then I went to my lax articles to make sure I still didn't do that. I don't, but I noticed something else.

In my last article from last year, there's this qoute from Ryan McClay. He says that when he walks off the field, and looks back, he wants to be smiling beucase of the good memories.

And that's where I lose it.

If Lot's wife turned into a pillar of salt, my eyes turned into the sea. On the same page was Kristen Haunss's last column. Below it was the story about the senior laxers. It made me get misty.

Sure I've got 1.9 years left here, but how people like that could ever walk away from the memories, the games, and the stories -- I'll never know. How I'll do it, is even more of a mystery.

---

Song of the moment -- fall playlist. It's been going for an hour now with songs that remind me of orange leaves, fields of dreams, and dance floors littered with broken hearts. Fall has been magical, and here's to hoping the magic never ceases...

Biking to the Mall

What a bitch!

I had to bike out to the mall today to get my new frames. I think I was gone about 2 1/2 hours total, but it feels like I've wasted an entire day. I did manage to do a lot, however.

Of course the first place I went was Sterling optical. I got there and found that my glasses had not yet been made beucase the new frames were a different color. I don't care about color (well, not to this extent), so I told them to put my new frames in and get me going.

The service was quick, but my adjustment to the lenses was not. I could tell that a week of wearing my old prescriptions was not what the doctor had ordered, so I wandered around the mall for a bit. I wanted to check out the portable DVD players anway.

I looked in Target first -- no good. Then I went to Best Buy. They had the standard 5.6 inch screen for $176, but not much else in my price range. The next best thing was from polaroid, only after examining the quality I found that it wasn't that great. The screen was grainy, and seemed to dull the movie clips. I was not impressed.

I think I'm going to wait on the portable purchase, unless I find something better. I'm sure if I watch the deals long enough one will pop up.

Anyway. My next stop was Tops. I picked up some brocoli and catfish, which I am now going to make for dinner. I'll probably follow it up with a quiet night of laundry and work. I have to get two papers finished tonight, so I can take my diagnostic test tomorrow.

It's going to be a good year

So The past 36 hours have been interesting...

I got into the two courses I was trying to add, and now need to drop one. I think the AEM course will go, but I need to sit down and figure out the pre-reqs for the other classes I'm going to need to take. The other is expository writing, a very cool class and fairly straight forward. There is, as the name implies, a good deal of writing, but that's about it. Classtime is discussion focused, and mostly on the area of current events.

I got approval from the instructor the other day, and had the course secretary sign my slip yesterday. Then I turned in my ipod and rushed to get to the Statler. I had work to do.

The work was fun work. I have recently been hired as a head reunion clerk for Cornell's 2004 reunions' weekend. I will have to do some pretty intensive things, but this weekend was chill. So were the people.

I'm working with five other undergraduate head clerks. There is also a new woman working on Reunion, and she is almost like a 7th clerk. Then there's another guy who was a head clerk the past two years, so he's like our big brother 8th clerk.

I just spent 36 hours joking around with them, and while there is only one other guy -- he's all that's needed.

Mike is clearly the joker of the group, making jokes about the minimal labor, but maximum pay. Mike sums himself up best when he says things like, "I like to get things I don't deserve." We're going to get along fine.

The girls are also cool. Three of them play(ed) rugby, and the fourth runs track. Once again, all nice people to have conversations with, so I'm looking forward to working with them this year.

---

I had to leave lunch today early beucase IP told me I needed to give the speech about why to join sports. I got excited at first because I like speaking in public -- it's a great chance to tell stories and get instant feedback. Unlike the column, where I write, and maybe get an e-mail here or there.

Then I thought I didn't want to do it. I spent last night working on the speech, just talking outloud in our common room for an hour. Eventually I hit gold.

The timing was great, too. I told Owen and Ip to call me after Nate finished introducing the first person. They did, and I just made it out in time.

I arrived at the organizational meeting just as Marc was wraping up. People applauded for him (polietely), and then I walked across the front of the room and squatted next to Alex and Owen. We got up together, Ip introduced us, and then he gave me the floor.

I had a great time with it. I told the story about how the LA Times wanted to send two sports writers to cover the war in Iraq, then I talked abotu all the things sports could give people, and finally about how I joined the sports section. I called it the best mistake of my life, and urged everyone else to make the best mistake of their lives as well.

I said before that Alex gave me the floor. I'd like to think that my speech alone gave us 18 new writers (wow!). Of course, I can't take the credit. If Amanda hadn't pushed us to be the best, we probably wouldn't have won the Ben Mintz media award. If Alex and Owen and all of our current writers didn't work so hard, we'd probably not have the section we do today. I did not get us 18 new writers, we got us 18 new writers. We produce the section as the team, all I did was tell the story.

But now I have to go get my glasses (no doubt another story in progress).

Two naked guys!?!?!

I just went to the bathroom to get ready for bed, and we have a geust(s) in the common room. To make sure I could see in the dark, I unplugged the night light from the bathroom and let my eyes adjust.

Mistake.

Apparently there are two people on my fouton right now. One of them is stark naked.

Who are they? I may, or may not know. I am, however, going to try to get up for church tomorrow at 10 a.m., so I have an excuse to find out. If not, I'll be hanging with my man J.C. from 12:15 until about 1 p.m.

Wow!! And I already thought I'd seen crazy tonight.

No title necessary

"We bombed the shit out of them, that's why we call them afghans..."

-- A good friend

Yup. It's been a long time coming, me having internet again that is. Mr. Roadrunner ran his ass out to our apartment today (finally) and fixed our internet, so you can expect some great content in the next 48 hours. There is lots to tell.

--

Song of the day?!? Wilco's "I am trying to break your heart"

The story is true, and so are the names

Go Visit Todd, he's lonely and needs cheering up

I made this site so people could track the drama as it unfolds. Expect daily updates....

Shuffling Stuff

Tonight a friend proclaimed that their defining moment of happiness had occurred. It was described as better than the first communion, becoming an uncle, and even the "first kiss."

Now my real first kiss was from a sultry brunette, and definitley had a lot of magic, so at first I doubted his proclamation. Then I accepted it, realizing that if what he said was true, I should be happy for him. Then I began to think ... what is my happiest moment?

There have been a lot of cool things, prizes, accomplishments, elections, people, friends, family ... but can I pick one ultimate moment? I can tell you the last time I truly smiled (see my first post on this site), but I can't call it my best moment. It was bittersweet at best, I mean, I haven't seen her since.

Then I got to thinking about the big stuff. High school graduation was sad because of Tim (deserving of its own post, sometime in the near future). My last high school concert wasn't happy, I was glad it was done. My last track meet was a dissapointment. I PR'd earlier in the season. Childhood moments? Birthdays?

And that's where I've possibly nailed it. My sixth birthday was my "happiest" moment becuase I was still blissfully unaware. I recieved all the toys I wanted as gifts, everyone -- family and friends -- got along, and I even had a dinosaur cake. How can you top that?

After six? Math in school got hard. Some friends turned into bullies. Heck, things just got progressively worse.

You can't call it innocence lost -- I never lost my innocence. I shed it with the death of a friend. I had to order flowers for the funeral, what I consider to be my first adult act. Childhood was truly lost then.

But six is when it stopped being peaches and cream. Sure there were days after that with peaches, days with cream, and even some with both. But not like before six.

Of course, there's so much ahead, and I could definitley see a good LSAT score, acceptance to a great summer internship, or even finding someone special as topping my current moment.

Although the look all over my brother's face when I spit on the cake was priceless...

---

So Dylan and Jevon arrived (sorry Jevon, you'll be first next time), and so far their move-in has been painless. Earlier this evening I joined Kajsa, Jackie and Reina in the common room, while waiting for the twins. They entered, we quickly hashed out business, (re)picked rooms, and moved some stuff around.

We're still looking for the key to our basement, which Graham hid while drunk. I don't quite understand fully, I also was not present for the incident. I'd like to find the key so I could have my bike.

More on Blair Hornstine -- today I did my tour of the Network Operations Center at Cornell, and Jeff Lehman was there -- he doesn't know anything (sorry if that was anti-climactic, it wouldn't be the first time someone called my finish dull...)

---

Everyone on IM was pretty strange tonight. Most had moving away or packing as their messages, adding in the requisite similey face to show they'd miss all their high school friends. I found myself thinking that was pathetic, but I was later corrected.

After moving Jevon's bed, I returned to my computer to find five IM windows. Four from college friends, but one was from Kate Pulley -- the high school dream girl.

Now don't think me perverted or hopelessly lost in the past. I'm no longer attracted to Kate the way I once was. Also don't confuse this with any flaws she might have, you'd have trouble finding them. She's still blonde, pretty, athletic, and wholesome.

Anyway, the IM reminded me of all the cool people from high school I never get to see anymore. Maybe they're just cool beucase of that fact, but I doubt it. They were cool becuase they were different -- still are. In my mind, those differences mean they're still cool.

Andy Brown, Courtney Bajdas, and Kate are all prime examples of people who make me stop and think. Whenever I hear good clarinet music, see a fiesty woman's guard on the court, or see a blond girl in fleece, I stop and think of those three, respectively. It's the curiosity of it all.

And in truth, I may never know what happens to these people. It's something that I'm not happy about, but I've also come to accept it.

---

I also met Rachel's boyfriend tonight. I know that she wouldn't really care, but I'm going to let her know that I approve. Scott is a really cool guy, and you'll probably read more about him and his booming god-like voice in future posts. I forsee fun evenings, philosophical conversations, and maybe even some good roadtrips...

---

I miss Matt Nagowski. He was a social glue, and without him I haven't run into Phil, or Dan at all (well Dan is admittedly out of town). Still, Matt was truly the hub in our summer social system. Hopefully we can do one more polar bear swim club before it gets too cold.

Blair Hornstine did what?

Apparently she did something to have her admission to Harvard revoked. I don't know too much, but the scuttle butt on the street is that now she's coming to Cornell. If you have any info, please feel free to e-mail me. It'd be highly appreciated.

On the flip side ... I'm back from Buffalo now, and getting ready for school. I found out at work that they've promoted me to "supervisor," which means I don't have to take phone calls and they pay me more. Life is sweet.

Even better is that in a few days Orientation begins, so while I'll have to work more, I'll also make serious bank. You do the math, if I work 10 eight hour days...

I'm light on the updates for now, just beucase life has been sleeping, working, and helping friends move in.

Oh, and spicing things up.

I picked up Donovan McNabb in my fantasy draft, and used he and Eric Moulds as trade bait. The guy I was trading to was an eagles fan, and I'm from Buffalo, so in return I got Drew Bledsoe, Peerless Price, and Jeremy Shockey. Shockey should have a breakout season, and seriously improves my TE position. At the same time, I have Bledsoe, with Kerry Collins on the bench. Both are surrounded by enough weapons to have atleast one emerge as a top QB, and Price should outpace Moulds. He was the better reciever at separating himself and, regardless of Vick's situation, should have a better season than Moulds. Moulds will have to contend with Double teams, and while Josh Reed should be a solid No. 2, I don't think it'll be enough to get Moulds the kind of yards he had last year -- Price was too much of a threat. He's the real deal, and if he takes the next step, I got three goodies for the price of two.

(I'll miss McNabb and Moulds -- Hell I'll probably salivate over what I'm missing -- but I think I came out on top here).

What do you mean Nomar's not Canadian?

Sure the sign read Boston Pizza, but the look of the place was enough to give me some second thoughts.

After our brief stint at the Roulette table, Paul, Bryan and I headed across a sketchy ally to the glowing lights that are Clifton Hill. It's a great place if you've never been there, and includes such things as a planet hollywood, rainforest cafe, donuts and the best thing ever -- Canadian people.

Boston Pizza also had Canadian people, but mainly they were the surly kind. That's right, teenagers who look 17 but are somehow sitting at the bar and having a Blue. Gotta love the Northern Neighbors.

We partook in our own salute to Canada of course by ordering a pitcher of Molson. It's no Blue but it was still Canadian, and last Thursday that was enough. We also ordered two pizzas to kill the appitite. It was sometime between opening the menu and realizing that every girl in the room was jail bait that we came to a horrifying discovery.

It seems that if Canada has one flaw, it's that it can't spell. ESPN's Sports Center magically became "Sports Centre." But this wasn't surprising, I mean not everything Canadian is good. Just look at Alan Thicke (of Growing Pains fame).

If Canada has two flaws, it's that they don't show American football on Sports Centre.

Hell, why not just call it "waste of Space," if you're not going to show NFL highlights? It even fits the Canadian spelling motif by ending in an "e."

We drank the beer more quickly to forget about this, and soon found ourselves needing to visit the rest room. Bryan needed to go the most, but strangely enough his dick seemed to change it's mind when it was called over by a female. Turns out the girl who called him over was from Baldin Wallace, Bryan's school. It also turned out that she and her boyfriend had just parted ways.

Anyway, while Bryan was busy auditioning for season two of MTV's "Who's Got Game" (It's the canadian version -- it ends in an "e"), a slightly inebriated Paul and I tried to find the bathroom.

After running into a dead end, it looked like we might have to hold it till the states. Paul then spotted a possible solution.

"It's down there," he said pointing to a set of stairs.

Of course, Paul was pointing to the Clifton Hill street, and while that kind of behavior might be aceptable in New York City I quickly pointed out that here it would probably only hasten our trip back to the states. He agreed and then we started venturing into the Kid's section of the resturaunt. It was great, but only beucase we found the bathroom.

Afterwards, we walked the strip in search of fried dough. We didn't find any, thus demoting Canada from America's Amusement Park status down to Playground. But I must say, it's still the best damned playground I've ever been to. I mean, neither Cass nor Como park serve donuts or Labatts, which is coincidentally how we ended our evening.

Well that, and Bryan and I made off color remarks during our border crossing. Once again Paul almost pulled an angry parent on us -- threatening to turn the car around and come back there -- all that fun stuff. Bryan and I shut up just in time to act like clean-cut white kids, and the border man let us come back to the States.

All in all, an enjoyable evening and fitting tribute to an equally enjoyable summer.

Pardon the Interruption...

My tale of Canadian wonder will have to wait, I've just hit on a very depressing thought that I need to share.

In two weeks the freshman will move in. They will come wide eyed, bring parents, and stay for anywhere from one semester to one lifetime.

Yet besides all that optimism, they bring something else -- something I fear. They bring an attitude.

Not all, mind you, but the ones I think are worth meeting seem to carry an attitude. Kind of the "I'm too good for you," thing. And just becuase they don't have it now doesn't mean they can't pick it up from their friends. That's what happened with Lisa.

Hell, I was even good enough for Devon until I opened my mouth.

But why?

What changes when you start opening up? Why do people instantly shoot others down beucase of affiliations or creeds? If college is supposed to be about opening doors and expanding your mind, then there are a lot of people at Cornell who don't appear to be getting their monies worth.

Sure, being exclusive is fun, but it gets old. Meeting new people and hearing new stories? That's where it's at, and this orientation week, that's where you'll find me.

Wow...

This is great if you're a fan of the new Bravo Show, Queer Eye for the Straight Guy.

http://www.smalldog.com/wag13345/atdealmacpre

Full bodied Canadian goodness...

So the other night Bryan, Paul, and I ventured North to America's playground -- Canada.

In my original thoughts a week earlier, I had envisioned a whole caravan of us going. Marty, Heufner, Jenny, Schwach, and even people who none of us had seen in forever like Kate Pulley. Of course, while most of the people I knew from high school have remained great friends in my memory, the truth is that most of them appear to give a rats ass about me when I'm home. It's alright, next time I'll call Bryan, Paul, Ed and Mike Sebaaly. We'll have a good time sans the rest (not including those with credible excuses).

But enough bitterness. For their own separate (and a few were credible) reasons, most declined the invitation. In the end, it was the three of us, and it was kind of fitting.

We had all had our own separate experiences, and for them I think we were enriched. Unlike the others who sit around at home 12 months of the year, Bryan, Paul and I all went away to school. We were used to the freedoms of sleeping until 3 without your parents nagging you to cut the grass, eating whatever you wanted, and playing video games until your eyes bled. In short, what separated us also tied us together.

We had tasted Independence, and on Thursday we did so again.

The drive was a bit awkward at first. I settled a bet about me having my license (Bryan won, correctly claiming that I had passed my driver's test before college), we saw Jon Koziol drive by, and had a good laugh about the enigma known only as Huefner -- and that was all before we turned off my street.

The problem was that after that first turn, we started to run out of things to talk about. I asked them a few questions, but the answers were similar. They had seemingly done little worthwhile to talk about while home for the summer.

I on the other hand was different.

For those of you who continue to read this, you probably know that I consider everything an adventure.

So I started with the stories. First was about the guy who came to fix the roof and caught me getting out of the shower.

"I came to fix the roof," he said.

"Well it's outside, isn't it?" I asked.

Then I told them about our Bat, then about our second Bat. Then I talked about how one night we climbed the scaffolding, and polar bear swim club, and meeting Jeremy Schaap. It was great beucase by the time I finished, Paul was hushing me up so we could cross the border.

And that was where the real fun began.

Paul was worried we were going to get stopped, so of course Bryan and I kept making remarks that would have gotten us searched had any one from the border patrol heard us. Paul meanwhile, was trying hard not to have a stroke -- I mean you could see his blood pressure rise as he sat there.

But as always, three white kids with money are never stopped from entering Canada. So we said thank you to the nice Canadian woman and began driving to the park and ride.

Now I always park behind the club when I go to Canada. It's free if you tell them you're going to the club, you don't need to validate, and you're walking distance from the casino. Of course, taking the park and ride was just as great. The scenery, which included a "budgetel -- the motel too cheap for a "ho," was worth the trip alone.

We parked, we rode, we entered fantasyland. The bus to the casino was chock full of old people. It kind of reminded me of Flordia, or water aerobics at the Helen Newman pool. Still, Paul, Bryan and I made our lewd remarks as if we were the only ones on the bus. Shiny objects also distracted us. I got caught up looking at the large television billboards, Paul was busy looking at passing cars, and Bryan was mesmorized by the glare coming off of the head of the guy infront of us.

Which must have affected his casino prowress.

We entered the casino, and I easily glided through security. Paul and Bryan, however, looking like professionals were detained. After some questioning, Paul and Ossama Bin Banach were let through, and we hit the floor.

I, as always, intended on playing the slots. They're colorful, make funny noises, and sometimes give you things in return. They remind me of TV, or even a shiny hooker.

Bryan and Paul had other ideas.

They were headed for the blackjack tables, and me with money to burn was along for the ride. I mean, if they could do it why couldn't I? Of course, the cheap tables were filled, so we loitered for about ten minutes until Bryan decided he would play some roulette.

So I joined him.

He bet $10, so I bet $10. He lost his first ten, and so did I. Then we split ways.

He was soon out after another two rounds, where as I suddenly found myself up $40. Paul came to join us, and since I had announced I was going to be paying for pizza with my winnings, he promptly bet everything he had on Red 33.

"I've got a feeling," he exclaimed.

And so if I've learned one thing from my Canadian trip it's this: don't trust Paul's "feelings." He lost it all, which was bad for Paul, but not so bad for us. Since I also lost my initial $10 bet, I decided it was time to uproot myself from the table and hit up the Pizza place.

But not before a free pop.

You see, the bartenders at the casino serve free non-alcoholic beverages, and far be it from me to pass up a free drink. So taking a leisurely stroll over to my favorite casino bar (it's actually the only one I've ever visited -- once with the Alpha Phi girls, the other time on Thursday), and asked for a coke. Paul joined me, but Bryan scoffed at us. His loss. It was the best coke I ever had.

"It tastes great. It tastes like free," Paul said.

We were about ready to leave when we had a kidwtsahs, or kid I didn't want to see after high school. In this case it was Dan Krebs. Now all night we had been wondering if we would have a kidwtsahs, and sure enough, here it was. Another thing we were wondering is if you can have a kidwtsahs without speaking to the party in question. I volunteered to go over and strike up a conversation if for no other reasons than to A) make Dan uncomfortable by the sheer fact that he had to now talk to me -- a near stranger, and B) to make this an offical kidwtsahs. Paul and Bryan told me it wasn't necessary beucase they'd count it anyway.

With that over, we left the casino and headed over to Boston Pizza, which is another story in itself, so I'll save it for tomrrow.

I leave you with a question: Are you ready for sports centre?

Canada is my favorite state...

Things I have done while home:

1) Called Kate Pulley
2) Played with my little cousins
3) Got a hair cut
4) Visited my favorite state -- Canada (more to come later)

Rocking the LSAT

So I just did about 40 LSAT questions and answered all but two correctly. I gave up watching Old School with the guys to do it, but some sacrifices must be made. If I can keep it up thru October 4th, then I will successfully rock the LSAT.

But Not that anyone really cares...

The "cool" thing of the summer happened yesterday. You know, that thing you call your folks about. For me it was spending some quality time with Jeremy Schaap (Cornell alumnus, 1991, and Daily Sun Editorial Board member during his hay day).

Schaap, who hosts outside the lines nightly, took some time out from his schedule to come back to the Cornell Football Association fundraiser. He, Tony Kornheiser, and Ed Marinaro were all special guests at the banquet. The following is my e-mail depection which went out to the kids I met in LA, the paper's sports e-mail list, and some recent alumni:


"Sunnies, Top Thirty, and other friends,

CFA stands for Cornell Football Association, but before the evening began I thought the "F" might as well have stood for fat.

The Cornell Daily Sun was recently selected by Cornell to receive the annual Bill Mintz media award. I, being the only sports staffer in Ithaca, was asked to attend the dinner and ceremoniously accept on behalf of the Cornell Daily Sun Sports Staff, past and present.

When I arrived tonight, I was taken a back. Where I expected to see tall, strapping (pardon my Gary-esque wording) men with hot wives, I saw none. They were all fat. Ok, there was one, I mean Ed Marinaro was there, but the rest of the guys were just plain fat.

I spent the next twenty minutes trying not to talk to any of them.

Later, while waiting for dinner with our photographer and the representative from sports information, I struck up a conversation. It mentioned in the program that Ben Mintz passed away in 1991, so I assumed the award was relatively new (also why the Daily Sun had never before received it). That's when Jeremy, my pal in sports info coughed up the info that this was the 27th presentation of the award.

Jokingly I asked if the dart had hit us this year, and he told me no.

"You guys had never received it before, which is why we chose you," he said. "That, and we scrapped darts for a pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey-like approach."

Not sure whether I should have felt honored or slighted, I made small talk with our photographer. Then J. Andy Noel, our athletic director showed up. Much to my disappointment, he did not look like FDR. For once, he was wearing neither his wool overcoat or red scarf.

Next some annoying fat guy got up and tried to speak over the crowd. He kind of reminded me of a certain Daily Sun Alumnus.

The dinner itself was better than I had expected, and I'm not just complementing the food. With the exception of M.C. (he was fat, too. Did I mention that?), the rest of the night turned out great.
It all started with our football coach talking about how we should do better than we did last year, but not well enough to win the conference. Next, surprise guest Ken Blanchard (he wrote the one minute manager) got up and told us all how that was a bunch of bull shit and if our coach had a pair, they'd shoot for a perfect season like Don Schula (sp?) and the 1970 era Dolphins.

Then Ed Marinaro got up and told us all how much he hated Ken Blanchard for working with Don Schula. Marinaro's team lost to Schula's Dolphins in Super Bowl VIII. Marinaro completed his speech by trying to add his newborn son to the live auction.

"How about $150? He costs a heck of a lot of money, but I've already paid for all his shots," he said. "Hell, for $200 I'll even throw in his mother."

A guy in the back started to raise his hand, but then his wife hit him. I suppose she wanted to wait until Marinaro threw himself into the deal, too. Either that, or she was waiting to bid on the color commentator's package, which included a chance to broadcast a Cornell football game over the Internet. I know I had at least 25 cents sitting in my pocket for it.

I also had an award on my lap, but it wasn't all mine. Part of it belonged to the guy who took the stage next: Jeremy Schaap.

Schaap, and his father had both done their respective tour of duties with the Daily Sun, and while Schaap might have graduated in 1991, I'm sure that some of the things I've been taught were also taught to (or even by) him. Institutional memory is key at our paper, and I'm thankful for all the people who put their time in before me.

Schaap was on tonight, taking jabs at everyone including Harvard Hockey. But the magic wasn't all Schaap. Alongside him was Tony Kornheiser, who's daughter Liz attends the hotel school here.

The two of them took questions from the crowd, playing off and taking sides just like an episode of PTI. Schaap also took time out to address a very important point: that his ratings with Outside the Lines were higher than Tony's. Tony just laughed it off and hammered on the Yankees with a wit that brought both a tear to my eye and a smile to my face. Overall it was a very impressive show.

(Off the record, the two also noted how Dusty Baker's biggest reason for leaving San Fran was really Barry Bonds. Apparently Bonds isn't well liked in the club house, and Baker has gone as far as to say -- once again off the record -- that any team with Bonds will never win a World Series. It was deep stuff. Kind of like when we all found out that Monica and Chandler from Friends were sleeping together.)

Later Adam (the photog) and I grabbed Schaap. He was more than happy to pose for a photo with our award, and even asked about the new office. I told him I'd show him around if he wanted, and he instantly reached for his phone.

He was going to put my number in his phone -- I almost choked up a nut!

But it was in his jacket back at his table. Before we left, I slipped him a business card so he could call me. I suppose Jeremy Schaap having my number on a card is just as good as him having my number in his phone. Maybe he'll even call from time to time.

Yeah, and maybe Seabiscut will have a sequel.

Anyway, as I found out, the "F" in CFA also stands for something else. It stands for family. There's nothing like seeing four buddies who used to play football bid 5 grand on a pair of giants baseball tickets for a former coach. They easily could have won for less, probably something like $20 seeing how nobody realy likes Barry Bonds anyway. But no. Instead they pulled out their wallets for the cause of the Cornell football program. They helped a bunch of kids who they hardly even know, who from their record don't seem to work hard enough, and don't even seem like they deserve the money.

Like I said, it was just like a family."

The coolest part, though, took place the following day. On Sunday, Schaap actually called me and asked if we could meet up so he and his friends could see the building. I said sure, rolled out of bed and called Adam. In ten minutes we were at the Sun.

Schaap and his friends were all sunnies, and by default very cool people. They poked around the new building, marveled over the woodwork and large room upstairs, spent some time in Nate's office, and then left.

But not before grabbing a freshman issue. Schaap's friend (the AE from 89 to 92) noticed my column, which Schaap then started reading. It was cool to think that he actually read my stuff.

And it's even cooler to get 6 1/2 hours of sleep.

---

My fourth Ithaca Journal article comes out tomorrow. I'm working on my fifth and it's a doosy -- all about how international students can get visas to come to Cornell, becuase Cornell has pull with the state department, while smaller schools can't help their students on that level (i.e., TC3)

A Prelude:

More to come on an evening which included Jeremy Schaap, Ed Marinaro, Tony Kornheiser, Action Phil, Ryan Sarsfeld and Jacko. For right now, all you need to know is this:

http://homepage.mac.com/mrspleen/iMovieTheater6.html

Summer winds bring sweet memories of Spring

So I was sleeping on the blue couch, Jason was on the yellow one, and what happens? Matt Nagowski comes and wakes me up. No biggie, we weren't supposed to fall asleep, but I suppose you can't help it when the Mets are playing.

Anyway, Matt was slightly winded, and were it a Lassie episode I would have to had guessed that little Timmy was stuck in a well again.

But no.

Matt had come to get me for the Iron Chef match.

Yeah, that's right. I talk a lot about TV, and maybe it's beucase there isn't much else to do in Ithaca after dark (The gorges are a bit sketchy then). But in this case, no TV was involved, just pure unadulterated fun.

Matt was taking on Iron Chef Min over at Phil's place. I was needed for three things: an egg, moral support, and my video camera. Nothing like milking a friendship.

We ran over to Phil's apartment and things got underway. Matt seemed ahead of Min, preparing two dishes to her one, needing less time, but there was a reason. You see, like most males Matt has two types of chromosomes. X, and the unfriendly Y.

Now the Y chromosome can be responsible for some pretty amazing things, like the invention of the wheel, fire, and those cool naked lady pens. But on this night, it merely led to dissapointment. After a backbreaking hour and a half, Min trounced Matt in all areas. But what do the judges really know? They didn't even stay for ice cream floats!

---

I've been going into work more, and it seems to be keeping me busy. Nabina can never remember when I'm supposed to be in, so she fishes for something for me to do when I'm there. It's good, I got two solid article ideas today, one of which I could easily pull off in an afternoon.

Then Bruce got me. Remembering that I could use Quark, he put me to work updating the welcome guide. I guess it's going to be my pet project for the rest of the summer. I'm cool with it, as long as I get a byline sometime along the way (or three -- I really need two to submit for next year's internship apps).

---

Today was also a friend's birthday. I didn't do much, but in this case just remembering made it special.

You see, this friend is in California. I met her during the LA Times workshop this Spring.

It's kind of sad really. You go so far, and take away so much, but at the same time leave a bit of yourself behind. In this case, I went out to get an internship, but walked away with about 25 amazing friends.

Melody is one of those friends.

She's smart, funny, going places -- the kind of girl I'd like to date if she didn't live on the opposite coast. I'd like to hope that we'll remain friends despite the distance.

But remembering it was Melody's birthday also reminded me of all the other cool kids I met that week. Steve Elsasser was just rediculous, Arash was generous, Barry was the most "together" guy I've ever met, and Stephan was like my long lost twin. I really miss those kids beucase of the connection we forged.

And no, I don't mean the compulsive gambling and massive monitary losses at Hollywood Park.

I mean that we were all into the same thing -- we all are adventurous -- we all like to tell stories -- and among those thirty kids were some of the most caring and generous people I think I will ever meet.

(And where else will you find four guys that ready to hit the strip club after a full plate of chicken and waffles?)

It's really too bad that our whole lives can't be like a giant conference. I mean, what if people didn't hide behind their fences and doors? What if they were open and got to know their neighbor -- their fellow man? I suppose we might not ever truly know.

Things I do when I should be sleeping:

1) Read Bill Plaschke columns from the book the nice people at the L.A. Times gave me
2) Think about tomorrow
3) Think about doing laundry tomorrow
4) Read some more Plaschke
5) Make several unecessary trips to the bathroom
6) Toss in bed
7) Give up on sleeping, read some more Plaschke
8) Think about playing Zelda
9) Eat
10) Realize that Rachel is coming to get me in an hour. The day starts too soon.

After a Rocky start, Father Bob recovers...

I did it again.

I was up until 5 a.m. downloading comedy mp3s again. I got some good stuff, some Dave Attell, some more Dane Cook, but I don't think it was worth it. I ended up sleeping most of the next day, and got up at 3:30. It was just in time, however.

Turning on my tv to Fox's Saturday Baseball game, I was able to have breakfast while watching the BoSox down the Yankees. This means that Boston is just 2 1/2 back, hopefully just a half after tonight.

The apartmentmates began to join me, and after the game we found the best tv show ever (next to surf girls of course).

It opened like this: Five gay guys drove up in a black SUV, got out and started accosting this straight white guy. Then each one of the gay guy used his special skill (which supposedly from the angle of the show, gay men are allowed to only have one special skill each) to help the straight guy out, as if he were some chairity case.

I tell you, if the governement invested its money in gays instead of things like wellfare, we'd be a better nation.

They cut hair, shopped with, taught cooking skills and even tanned their straight chairty case. And of course, they did it in style. Check out the latest episode this Tuesday at 10 p.m. on Bravo. If you live in Ithaca, you can even come over to watch.

After four or so odd episodes (and I mean odd), I went up to the track to knock off a mile or two. This time, I started with a hard mile, then did some paced laps. In the end, I felt good.

I came back and made dinner. Jason was falling asleep on the couch, so we kept switching back and forth between things on the tv. Eventually the phone rang. It was Rachel.

She was going to get bombed at her cast party -- very cool -- but wanted to apologize for not calling me back the night before. I told her it was completely unecessary and then we set up a "date" for church.

(I put date in qoutes becuase we're not dating, and if we were, church would not be as good of a prelude as say ... dinner and a movie.)

Then the phone rang again. I picked it up, but the person didn't identify themselves.
" Hey. It's Me," they said. Worse still, it was grainy in sound quality and a bit quiet. I thought it might have been my brother, so I just played it out to see what they wanted.

It ended up being Graham.

He had just finished working on his lab report for the night and was on his way to the video store. He wanted to know if he should pick up Rocky. We had discussed how neither of us had ever seen it earlier in the day, and decided that it was a guy's movie night. I told him to do it.

About 10 minutes later we were watching Sylvester Stallone mumble his way through his lines, and the life of one Rocky Balboa. Halfway through, Graham said what I was thinking, the movie kind of sucked.

But then I thought about it. I went into it expecting a good film becuase so many people talk about it as one. Instead, Rocky needs to be approached like any other independent film. Beucase that's what it is.

After I chewed on that for a while, it all made sense, and the movie seemed a little better. That and Sylvester Stallone was talking to people who spoke in complete sentences. Always a plus when you can understand the dialouge.

After that it was time for my pre-bedtime shower.

This morning, I got up just in time to comb out the bed head and put on some clean clothes. Then I met Rachel downstairs for church.

We got there and climbed the stairs, realizing as we picked up the song books that there was to be a baptism. It was a bit strange, having a baptism at a collegiate church, but I like the ceremony so I didn't complain.

The priest known to me as "Father Bob" was once again saying Mass. They announced his real name when Father Mike left, but I didn't retain it. Funny, retention of the things said at mass was a topic of his sermon. I didn't feel bad though when he admitted that it was his own poor retention that brought up the idea.

The baptism threw father Bob for a loop. He fumbled words left and right, skipped parts of the ceremony, and for some reason didn't pour chrism (or oil) on the baby. Far be it from me to argue with a priest, but any good alter and catholic school boy knows you are supposed to use chrism. Ah well, perhaps they have handed down a new church decree. If not, I doubt it's absence has sentenced the child to hell. Well I would hope not.

Father Bob recovered, however. In the end, it was a great ceremony, one surely worthy of God's blessings. That (and I'll go to hell for this) and the godmother was hot! I also didn't notice a wedding ring, which prompted me to think about asking Rachel to hit her with her car, but then my conscience got the better of me. It looked like she had a boyfriend, and he looked bigger than I am.

A shower, two shaves, and some shopping ...

Water areobics was fun, except for the fact that it was at an ungodly hour. I almost missed it, too. I woke up to my alarm at 6:30, then turned it off and sunk back into bed. I fought myself for a few minutes, and eventually got back out of bed. It seemed like seconds to me, but the clock told me otherwise. I had been dozing for 16 minutes, and now was late.

I put on some clothes (a bathing suit to be exact), and found Rachel. She was throwing stones at my window to try and wake me up. She laughed when I told her what happened, and then we got in the car and took off. It was a sleepy drive through campus, but it was pretty, most likely beucase there weren't any people out to mess up the view.

Water Areobics reminded me of high school, especially the times I used to go with the choir to the nursing home. Most of the people were over the age of 50, and for some reason they all could float better than I. Over breakfast I told Rachel I thought it was becuase I didn't have boobs. She corrected me and told me it was beucase I didn't have any body fat.

It wasn't really a great work out, but my left leg felt sore anyway. I had beat it up the previous day while doing some hard laps on the track. I put in a mile of extensive tempo, and then launched into a hard 800. From there I did another mile. But I don't think that did it. On the way home, I slipped on a wet manhole cover and twisted my left leg. That's what did it. And I was so sure that I took a nap.

I woke up from my nap and did something, but it wasn't that memorable beucase by now I have forgotten it. Later, Rachel called again and I went to the Gym with her. Brian and Graham came along, and they spent the time being lifting buddies. I did my usual circuit stuff, and Rachel tried out some of the new exercises she had learned from her trips to the trainer.

--

The next morning we did the Polar Bear thing, or atleast we meant to do the polar bear thing. The previous evening's surging rain had overrun the gorge, and our once calm and shallow swimming hole had turned into a white water disaster area.

"This drains the largest watershed in Tompkins county," Matt Nagowski told us all. Atleast that's what I think he was saying. Somewhere from about the time when we first heard the water, to when we left, I sort of blocked everything else out. I was too busy thinking about how if I am reincarnated, I want to come back as a mighty river.

With no swimming, I just dove into bed without my customary shower. I then napped until about noon, when I was supposed to be at the Ithaca Journal to meet the metro editor. It's okay that I was late though, he neglected to tell me that he wouldn't be in until 4 p.m. He also neglected to mention that I was coming in. As a result, there was nothing for me to do. So I did what I would have done at home, I read the paper.

Somewhere along the way I had a chat with two of the reporters. One, Anne, also went to Cornell and wrote for the Sun. The other, Lauren (I think it was Lauren), was leaving soon to go to law school. I should ask her why, if I get the chance.

John came in just in time for me to say goodbye and get to my LSAT class. No surprise there, but it was another wasted day at the Ithaca Journal. I guess it wasn't a total waste, however, as I was given a feature assignment by the M.E., and hammered out a quasi-permanent schedule with John. My next day is today (Friday), and I will be working the late shift.

Class was class. I got there, did my thing, fell asleep as we went over some problems (I had gotten them all right, so in my mind there was no guilt). I parted ways with Brian and then headed to Matt's porch, where I was already 15 minutes late for Tuesday on the Porch.

After grabbing some sahlens hotdogs and rushing down the street, I was dissapointed. I was the only one who had shown up so far for porch night. Atleast I was the only one besides Matt who was currently there.

It didn't matter. I threw on some dogs, and the next thing I knew, Phil was there. Min had also come along, and then eventually Hannah and Dan showed up. There was this indian guy, and K, and his girlfriend, too. The indian guy had a name like "meekit?" I'm sure I'll catch it later.

So there we were. We had some great conversation, and it was just amazing to be with people. The night wound down as slowly as it started, but not without a rousing game of 3-D tic-tac-toe. Matt won of course, overcoming the collective brain power of Phil and myself, as well as newcomer Dan. But it was all good, and in the end, I went home with a bike.

I didn't really win the bike, I just kind of cashed in on a friendship. Although cashed in makes it sound like I used it up, and I would hope that I have not.

Anyway, I got up the next morning, threw on some clothes and began looking for a bike helmet. Not finding one, I called my feature person (an antique dealer), told them I'd be there within 45 minutes, and headed up to The Rack (or whatever the hell the Ctown bike store is) and purchased a helmet.

Then I was on my way to Lansing. Ten miles away, my interview was waiting.

And so my 45 minutes stretched itself. I road by the mall, almost got hit by a truck (he even made eye contact with me before he pulled right up to me), and then eventually discovered the beauty of Lansing.

If you ride Tripphammer straight out, you will eventually hit route 34. Before that, however, you will sit in traffic by the mall, die of boredom as you pass farm after farm, and then eventually ralize something. The view from the road is fantastic.

Somewhere after a place I like to call farm #368, the westward view opens up to reveal a stunning vissage of Cayuga Lake (*note* There is no such thing as Lake Cayuga).

But I didn't have time to admire it. I was late, and my interviewee had an appointment coming up. I made it to the store, dismounted, took a deep breath and ran in. There, behind the counter was a short middle aged woman with glasses, whom I grew to know over the next half hour.

Barn Store Antiques was amazing, eclipsed only by its proprieters. If they don't have an antique or collectible you're looking for, you can get on a list, and they'll try and find it. Now that's service.

I finished up, took down her home phone number for further information, and was soon riding back down route 34 B. It was a lot easier going back, as most of the ride was down a gentle hill. I got back home around 3:30 and after another hour was ready to call it a day. I watched some Mets baseball, made dinner, and caught myself falling asleep on the couch.

So what did I do?

You guessed it. I stayed up until 4 a.m. Oh, but it was worth it. I downloaded a whole bunch of Bernie Mac, Dave Chapelle, and Chris Rock. It will be worth a fortune on our upcoming sports roadtrips. Hell, we'll probably listen to Brian Regan a bunch more times before we do anything else, but I can't wait for some Bernie Mac. He's pure genius.

--
I awoke to the sound of claning pots. It turned out that the properties place had finally sent someone to fix the stove. Of course, they had to do it early in the morning. The stove guy ( suspiciously the same guy who got rid of our Bat a month earlier) left, and I went back to bed.

I got up again to find that Katie (graham's girlfriend, and a good personal friend of mine) had come to visit. I joined the rest of the apartment around the TV, and soon we found ourselves entrenched in a Euchre battle. Somewhere along the way to Panamanian glory, Echo Cheng, our landlady paid us a visit. She started by inspecting our rooms, and snapping photos of how everything looked. She spent a long time looking at the stain on my carpet, and I wondered if she knew it was there before hand. Shane, the guy who showed us the apartment seemed to, so I wasn't too worried.

She left, Jason and I took Graham and Katie in another Team Panama Victory, and then I spent the afternoon double dipping.

First I watched the Minnesota Twins beat the KC Royals. Then I ate two eggs with two peices of cheese on top. Next I watched Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen in their ABC Family TV show. Then I checked my e-mail. Twice.

Not sure what to do after that, and realizing I smelled bad, I took a shower. It was three days in the making, and once I was gloriously clean, I decided to mess it all at the gym.

Wow.

I love the gym, if only for it's asthetic purposes. There was this hot blonde in a green top on the stairsteppers. Now if they could only move the treadmills so that they were behind the stairsteppers, and not the otherway around...

I walked home at a gingerly pace. I also spotted Ithaca mystery girl (the brunette who said hello on East Seneca last week) walking around on Eddy. She was headed farther up to somewhere near college ave, and while we passed each other, there were unfortuantely no "hello"s this time.

It's okay. I've decided that if it happens again, I'm just going to slip her the tounge and be done with it.

I got home, and realized I needed to go shopping. Rachel hadn't called at all, and while she said she'd call again when she had to go to the store, I just couldn't wait any longer. Grabbing my green bag, hat, and raincoat, I began the walk to Wegmans.

Graham and Jason said it was crazy. Maybe they were right, but about an hour and a half later, I returned. In my arms were groceries, including my dinner.

The two who called me crazy on the otherhand had done a bit of maddness themselves.

While putting my stuff away, I asked Jason what the duo had done in my absence.
"We shaved our heads," he replied.

And that's about the point where I coughed up a nut.

I specifically remember Katie giving some sort of threat to Graham about shaving his head.
Ok, maybe I don't specifically remember it, but I do remember a threat. Anyway, there I was putting away my groceries, when two minutes in, Graham and his shaved head step into the room.

I wasn't sure what to say. Congratulations? I'm sorry? You missed a spot?

Yeah, it was just one of those odd moments. I'm sure I now know how they feel when I hike up my pants, throw on a hat, grab the panamania flag and parade around the house yelling things. To put it bluntly we live in a strange and magnificent place.

So after staring at the hair for a while, we watched a movie. Batman, with Michael Keaton. It was great.

But now it's time for bed. Tomorrow is a big day of sleeping, swimming at Helen Newman, and checking my fantasy scores (I'm in a solid sixth spot, and poised to take fifth this week).

---

I'm not listening to anything right now. I'm boring and lame. But not as bad as you people. 12 of you visited 32 times yesterday.

Swimming at what time???

I've got to get up at 6:20 a.m. tomorrow (today, actually) so I can meet Rachel for water areobics. In otherwords, I'm going to come back home and take a nap, so I probably won't update until late tomorrow afternoon.

A Quiet Day...

I tried to wake up around 1 p.m. so that I could make it to Rachel's performance in the plantations. Then I just tried to get up.

After succeeding sometime around 3:30 p.m., I wandered out, had a bowl of ceral and decided to wait it out till I could go for a run. While waiting, I was flipping around and found the Graduate was on, so I watched it (with the occasional flip to ESPN or MTV during commercial breaks).

The film is simply amazing, and everyone should see it for the soundtrack alone. Simon and Garfunkel's greatest hits weave in and out of the background of the film and softly into you ears as Here's to you Mrs. Robinson, Sound of Silence, and several others come and go. On top of that, Dustin Hoffman headlines a stellar cast of females that just served to make me more depressed. But that's okay, surf girls is on MTV on Monday.

Just about the time I was going to get up for my run, I decided to check with Matt Tyhatch to see what he was up to for the evening. He suggested playing lacrosse, and since the opportunity rarely presents itself, I skipped the run for an evening on the Schoellkopf green.

It was great. Matt, Matt Sheinkopf, and I ran around for about 45 minutes. Passing to the net, taking turns playing a poor man's goaltender, and running after the ball. Just about the only thing we did more than run after the ball was to laugh. Jokes about ourselves, each other, and anything else we could think of flew for the same time our passes did, and then some. We continued Matt's night out at Shortstop Deli and then at the fraternity house. It was there we watched Clerks.

I had never seen the film, and while it would have been lame if viewing it by myself, seeing it with friends put it into a new context. It seemed to mirror my life.

Well, not my life, but rather the lives of the people I used to live with. All I could think of while watching the film was of Lancaster and the people who still live there, mainly Paul, Bryan, Tim, Marty, Huefner, and the rest of the crew. Afterall, they work at convenient stores, play hockey in strange places, and have even stranger trials with women.

It truly embodied the romantic yearning to go home, except for the fact that home isn't how you really remember it. The people, places, and faces all change until one day, "Home" changes too. I guess from that stand point I'm a bit of a vagabond, not really having a place to call home anymore, especially beucase I'll probably never permanently return to Buffalo.

Clerks the movie turned into Clerks the animated series, and then disc one ended. Matt S wanted to keep going, but I knew better. It was better not to push a good thing, and besides, Matt T would soon be recieving his nightly phonecall from his girlfriend. It was time for Matt S and I to depart.

I got home to find a new message on the answering machine. It was my parents, specifically my dad, telling me about some Bill Mahr special on HBO. It was good to hear his voice, and even better to hear he was taking some time to enjoy himself, even if it is just by watching TV. Things have been rough for him lately, and I know that certain people are trying to professionally run him into the ground. I think that's why he's pushing me towards law school. My father sees it as an answer to life's problems, and by it I mean the money that can be made after you're done.

My brother is going to be making serious bank next year (provided he passes the bar exam), and if he ends up making partner some day, he has a real shot at job security and flexibility. And so maybe my father is right. Plenty of people do things for money (like leave school early to go pro), and while the argument may be made that they enjoy their lives, how do we really know that? There's a huge difference between playing pick-up, or high school basketball and playing in the NBA. Still, most try to make the leap because of the money, becuase of the things they will be able to provide their families.

I'll be the first to admit that money isn't everything, but maybe it's something.

Anyway, that's for another day. Now it's time for bed.

So here's the question...

A person raises themselves up in the gaze of the public. They are charitable, loving, and in the eyes of some even a hero. But despite what actions they may take in his or her public life, there will always be hidden secrets.

Hidden as long as your name isn't Kobe Bryant.

By now, most know that Bryant has been charged with felony sexual assult, a crime for which he could receive a sentance of life imprisonment. And while it probably won't come to that, the minimum is four years, and that still has me worried.

Think about it. A young nobody, who if the charges are "proven" true, will be in every Kobe documentary until she dies, as the woman who ended a promising young career. There's a young district attorney, who clearly can make a name for himself by reeling in this supposed immoral and corrupt young man.

Yet besides the two of them -- who else has to benefit from this?

Certainly not the city of Los Angeles.

Besides the Lakers being a multi-million dollar business, the team sereves another purpose. As local gods, Shaq, Kobe, and now even Glove and Mailman all boost moral. They give the people of LA something to be proud of. They donate to charities, they foster programs to help the young, underprivelged and the sick. But the lives they touch are in danger of losing that saving grace.

Charges or not, children will still want to meet Kobe Bryant. They'll still want to shake the hand of Basketball's current greatest player, and they'll still light up to see him drop 40 on any given night.

But not if he's in prison.

So perhaps the question should not be, "did he do it," but rather "does it matter?"

Sure it's cold. Sure if you were sexually assulted, you too, would most likely want "justice." But in this case, shouldn't we step back from the situation and think -- does it matter? What happens to the community should you remove a pillar? Does it crumble? I think we may find out.

--

I spent today walking places. I got up, ate and walked to the commons. I picked up 50 copies of the freshman issue at the Daily Sun, and then I walked back to campus. But then I kept going, all the way to East Hill. I finally dropped them off with Athletic Communications, and asked that they get to Coach Tambroni. I'll call to double check on Monday.

I then walked home. I walked around the house, then out of it, then back in (I was cooking hotdogs outside). Next I walked to the arts quad, where I played croquet with Dan McAlvin, and Matt Nagowski. It was an enjoyable time and I grew rather fond of the game, but after one match we walked away to get ice cream and never quite returned.

So I was having a conversation among friends, when Lisa's (cell phone girl) roommate from last year walks in. Of all the things to be brought back from the past -- did I need that? Needless to say, I've been giving more thought to what Sabrina (my brother's friend, and a housemate from last summer) told me. I'm thinking of e-mailing Lisa to meet for lunch in the fall.

I mean, we seemed to hit it off okay. She seemed to enjoy herself, she was giddy -- we both were. It was the friends who ruined it for me. So the real question now is, after a year, has she moved on enough to be able to tell them to shove it? It's tough. If the guys I hang out with razzed me about someone I was dating, I would most likely end up dumping them. It wouldn't be becuase of their taunting, it would be becuase they would wear on me until I was sure I recognized whatever flaw they were talking about. I'm not sure what that means about me as a person...

If you asked my apartment mates, it probably means I'm an asshole. They all left (I think) for the weekend, but the only one who said anything about it was Kajsa, and that was in passing. It's okay though. I'm enjoying the quiet, but it would have been nice to have some notice. I mean, isn't this how people go missing for weeks at a time? Especially at Cornell.

And one more quesiton while we're at it -- why do I find myself romantically pining to return home for a little bit? I know when I go home, my family are the only people there who care about me. I haven't seen most of my "friends" since I graduated from high school, and those who I have don't bother to include me in their plans whenever I do go home.

I suppose the infatuation all comes from the romanticism that the term "home" invokes. Afterall, home is where you hang your hat. Home is where the heart is. But for me, the term has evolved into something of a holy grail. I'd love to hang out with the kids from high school, but I really can't go back. In part, they don't want me. And to be honest, part of me doesn't want them.

--

Oh, and my song of the moment is "something stupid." But it's not the old Sinatra song, it's a cover done by Robbie Williams and Nicole Kidman. I'm not sure which version I like better, but maybe it's like chosing between chocolate and vanilla. I mean, why not enjoy both?

And then reality hits like a ton of bricks

So I think I just figured out the root of my problems. I'm the surrogate adult living with a bunch of kids.

Think about it, when you were a kid, money was never an issue. You never worried about bills, and always had the gall to ask for something if you wanted it. You never gave a second thought to the expense your parents might have to shoulder. The people I live with just have to pay rent. They don't have to worry about things like utility payments being linked to their names.

But I find myself on the other side.

In two weeks, the cable bill will come in my name, but the people who owe me money for it won't be in Ithaca. I however, won't have enough to float the bill. It poses an interesting situation.

If I can, I should cancel the cable services, thus avoiding a bill. But first I'll write to our incoming residents to see if they can put up the cash for it. I doubt they will, so it looks like I'll end up cancelling it.

I wonder if I should cancel the modem, too?

What a college education! For the first time in my life I'm worried about finances. I just wish I could get my reimbursement from the glee club.

"Frolf" - licking around campus ...

So today was a typical Thursday. Typical in that I woke up, went polar bear swimming, and then napped away the rest of it. Oh sure, I woke up around 3:30 p.m., when I was ever so disturbed by my apartment mate to take a phonecall. It was shortly there after I set the ground rules of waking me up:

I only take calls from three sources: My mother, the Daily Sun, and the good lord Jesus Christ.

(I would also just like to take this moment to say that I hate people opening my door on me when I'm sleeping, especially since I do so in the nude.)

Anyway, I got up, had a bowl of cereal and then plotted how I would spend the few remaining hours of the day. I realized (after trying to dress) that I didn't have clean clothes, so the first order of business became laundry.

It was great. I put my clothes in, and then wandered out on the back porch of the Laundry place. Sitting in the sun, I pulled out my LSAT home study book and began feverishly working away. I'm doing better now, only choosing one incorrect answer for every six or so.

Laundy wasn't anything exciting, but I finished up soon enough and then went back home. No one seemed to notice I had come in, as they were discussing something regarding me when I came back.

Apparently one of Kajsa's glasses was broken. I had set it in the sink the day before while cleaning up the apartment (assuming that if it was on the table for the duration of the day that it was dirty), and sometime between that and when Graham and Jason did the dishes, the glass broke. Compounding the situation, the glass was from a formal she had gone to.

So for the time being, I believe the affectionate term I have been given is that of "asshole."

And speaking of assholes, I saw the football team practicing today on Schoellkopf, but that's all for another post. Today, I'd like to talk about the great sport of Frolf, or frisbee golf.

Matt Nagowski has been talking about building a frisbee golf course around Cornell for weeks, so tonight we acted on it. After eating dinner and checking my im's, I met Matt at ABC cafe. They were doing a Thursday night Jazz session -- very smooth -- and Phil Lane was there. I suppose we're a sad and unlikely group, but the conversation is good. Well, that and Matt and I can always complain about how we're both single.

So there we were, galavanting around the arts quad, maps, frisbees and all. It was really quite an enjoyable evening. Our first hole was from the base of Ho plaza to the circle that says, "Ho." Then we did some wierd thing to the clock tower, followed by a stint to west campus, the douche palace, and back up to the giant Johnson. The whole thing is capped off by hitting the statue of Ezra Cornell.

Along the way, we happened upon the piece de resistance, to any campus climber. It was the scaffolding surrounding Baker Arch. We had to think about it for a few minutes, but eventually decided that it was a once in a college-life-time experience, so up we went.

The view was breath taking, or maybe it was just the fact that I was scared to be up that high. Either way, it was an amazing experience. Better still was that it ended with a panic attack. While I was sure there were no monitoring devices on the scaffolding, just as we reached the top we heard sirens. I don't think I could have gotten down faster if I had fallen. Of course, I wouldn't want to try.

The best part, however, we have yet to experience. Due to custodial interference, we were unable to play through Goldwin Smith hall, but don't worry. I plan to someday during classes, so if you happen to spot a frisbee going by, don't freak out. It's just me, frolfing it up.

--Random Side Note --

The other day I was running on "game farm road," and this woman in a car waved at me. It was the second time that I was confronted by some strange (but not to say unattractive) female in Ithaca. The first was when I was walking down East Seneca Street and this gorgeous Brunette said Hello. I wish I knew her, or had the sense to ask for her name. Ah well, there's a whole year of walking down to the commons ahead of me, and perhaps we'll run into each other again.

Or perhaps I merely dreamt it.

Tallman's Tale Reminder of Family Life

So Friday was the start of the weekend. Clearly.

After beginning work at the Ithaca Journal on Thursday, I returned to work on Friday only to find myself mired in the same busy work. I was (and for all practical purposes, still am) compiling a profile of all the interns for Bruce Estes, the managing editor. I finished up what Bruce told me to do, and waited around for him, but after about an hour I split. The Stanley Cup was in town, and I knew I could get good access.

I was right. I found Cornell Sports Information Director, Laura Stang, and asked her what I needed to do to talk to some of the players and coaches. After she told me, I also asked if it would be possible to speak to Joe Neuwendike (Of New Jersey Devils fame). She rolled her eyes, but gave me the info I needed.

Coach Schafer was going to present Neuwendike, and Mike Tallman (The man of the evening). In turn, Neuwendike would then present the cup. All I had to do was wait off to the side, and he would apparently speak to me later.

I was floating around. While not as excited as most, I was still intoxicated about talking to Neuwendike (funny, since I have probably mispelled his name wrong about a million times). Like everyone else, I was buzzing about the cup, Joe, and seeing Shafer play.

All nice things, but not what was important.

As things went on, as I "donated" my five dollars to the Mike Tallman fund, as I sat there with my friends, I started to sober up. I had come with the idea of writing something about the Joe and the Cup, but now that I was in Lynah rink, it all was changing.

When I was in L.A., Times columnist T.J. Seimers told us we would all fade away into the crowd. He lamented for us, and urged us not to go. Three months later, I knew exactly what he meant.

The pack mentality of the media was focused on Neweundike, but the crowd was focused on Tallman. That was the story, and as he was brought onto the ice, I realized it.

It was startling. Most people on the Lynah ice don't use wheelchairs, but Tallman isn't like most people. He's stronger, and even though he's limited to the confines of his chair, he's also somehow larger than Newendike, the cup, and even life itself.

After Newendike was done on the ice, I went over to the dressing room area, but not to talk to him. Instead I waited in line to talk to Mike Tallman. I wanted to know what it was like for him, how he had adjusted, and what this day of giving meant to him. In short, I wanted to know why Newendike would use his day with the Stanley Cup to benefit him. What made Mike Tallman special.

And while waiting in line, I found out.

Mike Tallman, class of '90, had played Hockey at Cornell. But in April, he suffered a spinal injury during a pick up game. The next few weeks were greuling, but he eventually rehabilitated enough to resume most normal activites. He was, however, bound to a wheelchair. The evening's events were to benefit his family, and help pay for his hospital bills.

But that wasn't what made Tallman special. There was something else.

Besides Tallman's attitude, which made you like him the minute you met him, he was a Cornellian through and through. He grew up in Ithaca, wanted with all his might to play Cornell Hockey, and eventually got his wish. While he may no longer possess the ability to walk, he does still have his memories, and families.

That's right -- families -- plural. Besides his loving wife and daughter, Tallman also has the Cornell family. In short, what made Mike Tallman "so special" was his time spent on East Hill.

While the other reporters were busy talking to Newendike, I was busy watching Tallman. Sure I was invading on what should have been private moments, but I was part of the public in a public place. I, like the others in the crowd, wanted to know more about this remarkable person, and his journey to recovery.

Eventually the other reporters came over and joined me, but not with the same purpose. They wanted a sound bite. I wanted to know the whole story.

When most people went home that night, I'm sure they talked about Joe Newendike and the Cup. Hell, I did. But I'm also sure they stopped for a minute to thank the powers that be. Those who went home most likely reflected with loved ones, paused and felt sorry for Tallman. And in that regard I wrote my story.

But not quite. Instead of feeling sorry for Tallman. Instead of using his injury to elicit emotion, I used it to illustrate a connection which I have already written of here. The connection between Cornellians.

You may think of it what you want. You may think of it as Networking. But then pardon me if I think of you as mistaken. It is indeed a bond of friendship and love, and something stronger than words can explain. In short, it's the reason I'm proud to call myself a Cornell student. Becuase I'm part of something that's better than what you can get at other institutions. I'm part of the family.

The rest of the evening was mixed. Newendike left early, so I didn't get my photo with him, but I did find him for an interview. Funny, I didn't even use his qoutes -- they weren't necessary. I also went out afterwards, to rejoice in the beauty of life with my fellow man, but in this case it was both good and necessary. I needed to experience living, and find something to be thankful for (I found it).

So for those of you who take the time to read my ramblings, I urge you to do the same. Remember Mike Tallman, and whether you be Cornellian or not, remember to be thankful for the people you call Family. Now get out of your chair and go experience life -- it truly is worth living.