Time

As I was grabbing lunch today, heading down the stairs to my little corner of the building, I had a moment of panic.  This panic came from the realization that I was, once again, about to have lunch.  I know that sounds silly, but it felt like I had just eaten yesterday’s lunch.  This thought made me realize that it also felt like I had just eaten last week’s lunch.  And last month’s.  And last summer’s.

This was the precise moment I began to feel that sick, panicked feeling, the one you get when you realize that chick you’ve been eying from across the bar has an unusually large Adam’s apple…  Or rather, I imagine that might be the same feeling.  I wouldn’t know for sure.  But I digress, and not a moment too soon…

What I’m trying to say is this:  Time is going by way, way too fast.

Ten years ago, I was just about to begin high school.  I was working for my uncle’s contracting company, painting various barricades and ladders in a warehouse with only one color:  safety yellow.  I was leaving behind an old group of “friends,” wondering if I’d find any new ones.  I was playing baseball.

Seven years ago, I had just graduated high school.  I was hanging out with my bros and having as much fun as I could, trying to cram in as many good times as possible before embarking on my LDS mission.  I had found a very close group of friends, but knew it wouldn’t last too long.  Our ideals were much too different.  While I was preparing for a church mission, they were spending a lot of time getting high.  I felt like I had one great friend in Josh, but the rest were drifting away.  Also, I had quite a bit of experience in the “love” department by that time, but all I had really found by then were all the things I wasn’t looking for in a girl.  I was happy, and I felt that I was coming out of the funnest time of my life.

Five years ago, I came home from my mission.  Everything was different.  My best friend Josh was slowly dying from Lupus, so down on life that he didn’t even want to keep going.  My dad had a new job that meant we were now a two-city family, which was great.  My dad was also now a golfer, and he got me into it (at first, that was definitely not so great).  All I had at this point was my family, and it wasn’t long before I felt extremely alone.  Some of my friends had gone off the deep end, some had dropped off the radar, while others simply didn’t appear to care for my friendship anymore.  I’d lost all confidence with girls, so that wasn’t making matters better.

Three years ago, Josh passed away.  I spoke at his funeral.  That was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.

At the present time, I have feelings of positivity and hope that I haven’t had in a while.  I’m better and stronger for the things I’ve gone through.  I still have my family.  I’ve been reunited with old friends, picking up some new ones along the way.  I feel like I have value again.  I feel like this is all leading somewhere, and that I’m on the verge of great things.

When I had that moment of panic today, I was forced to ask myself a few questions.  Am I using my time effectively?  Am I doing the things I need to be doing?  Am I preparing myself for what’s to come?

Looking back at the last ten years makes me realize how quickly the next ten will go.  Each day’s a gift, and I cannot allow myself to waste a single one.

K

(I’ll add pictures to this when I can get a hold of them)

BAD MOVIES

New post on Vinyl Draft.

CLICKITY-CLACK.

K

Quick Thoughts on STP (06/24 @ Hollywood Bowl)

Yesterday morning, as I was sitting in my cubicle, wondering how I was going to get through the day, a friend here at work approached me and queried whether or not I could do her a favor.  I told her that it depended on how lame this favor would be.  She then asked if I would take her ticket to that night’s sold-out Stone Temple Pilots concert up in Hollywood.  I said, “Sure.”

Easily the least lame favor I’ve ever been asked to do.

Thoughts on the evening:

• The park-n-ride setup they have going is awesome.  I’ll use it every time I see a show there from now on.
• Black Francis (from the Pixies) opened for STP.  He was good, but weird.  There were exactly two songs I was really feeling, although none were exactly bad.
• STP came on early, rocked often, and played almost every song I would’ve wanted to hear.  The stage setup was cool, Weiland was on top of his game, the weather was perfect.
• Everyone around us was getting high.  Everyone.  One guy, after dropping and breaking his glass pipe, continued to smoke through the broken shards throughout the remainder of the show.  I totally LOL’d.

All in all, I had a fantastic time.  If I had to grade the overall experience, which I’m compelled to do, I’d give it a solid B+.  If it was one of my top 5 bands, it would’ve gotten an A.

K

ps – Today’s my little bro’s birthday.  Even though I’m certain he doesn’t read this, I’d like to throw a “happy birthday” out into the universe, anyway.

Weekend Recap: The Vegas

About a week ago, my man Vince (aka Vinny Chase) and I were talking about how lame our lives are. Nothing exciting ever happens anymore. We needed to change things up a bit. Actually, in context, I think Vince wanted to go pick a fight at a bar and spend the night in jail, so I suggested that he go some place with better alcohol – you know, increase his chances of winning. And then he said it, and our fate was sealed…

Vegas…

Ah, the city of brotherly love.  The city that never sleeps.  The big easy.  Vince assured me that at least one of these names was talking about Las Vegas, but then again, he also called it the big apple.  Immediately after making the suggestion, we made sure our homedog Ben, the third leg of our man-tripod, was in.  And then the planning began.

Next thing you knew, we were there.

Now, I was unable to arrive until Saturday morning, while the rest of our group arrived late Friday night.  Naturally, that’s a good piece of the story that I won’t be able to tell.  You’ll have to ask Ben, Vince, or maybe the lady serving energy drinks at the Cortez Casino (yeah, I’d never heard of it, either).

After a day of playing by the pool, being embarrassed by Ben at a putting contest (it was a high stakes game, with Ben’s future girlfriend at stake), and a stake dance-like segregation between the guys and girls, we were ready to hit the strip.  But not before we went to the mall, looked for some chick’s sister, and hung out with Carrot Top at a little Italian eatery.

But then, finally, we were ready to hit the strip.  And we hit it hard.  I immediately lost 20 bucks at a roulette table, and then we went out in search of Rockstars and h2o.  Ben and Vince had been up all night, so they were tired.  Our new friend Jordan hadn’t gotten much sleep, either.  I was ok, but that heat does drain you a bit.

While we were walking around, Ben nearly got himself into a fight with a shirtless vagrant who appeared to want to sell us some drugs.  This man, who I’d have to assume has gouged out at least six eyeballs in his time, assured Ben that he’d “f*** you up right here on the strip.”  But he didn’t.

Later. as we were enjoying our cold, non-alcoholic beverages, we were treated to a short story by a man I’d like to call Old James.  Old James, a down-on-his-luck drifter, thrilled us with a tale of the dangers of getting drunk and then getting caught by the fuzz with some blow in your pocket.  I didn’t understand a lot of what Old James said, but I did catch the phrase, “That’s bad.”  He repeated it about seven or eight times.  Then he asked us for $1.75.  Or maybe he asked us for a $1 or $.75.  I don’t think we’ll ever know.  He asked if our “sister,” Jordan, had the money.  James apparently doesn’t know that us white folks don’t refer to our women as sisters.  It kinda creeps us out.

I’d love to recount to you the rest of the night, but it’s kind of a blur.  We did meet up with Mandi and watch the water show at the Bellagio.  We did eat at the Cheesecake Factory.  We did wander around the stores at Caesar’s Palace for about three days.  We did go to Niketown.  The order and duration of these events is lost to me, and I don’t think my companions would be able to give you a more accurate story.

I do remember that we became what I like to call “stupid tired.”  Things were funny to us that we had no right to laugh at.  We’d de-evolved like William Hurt in Altered States.  I think I’d rather not remember the exact conversations we had.

Vince wanted to pull an all-nighter.  Ben had a little more sense than that.  Mandi wasn’t feeling well, and Jordan didn’t want to hang out with us anymore.  Our night in the Vegas was over.  I’m pretty sure it was better than the night I would’ve had otherwise (with no offense meant towards my dear, sweet family).

K

Joining You

I’m looking forward to joining you, finally
And I’m sorry it took me so long
I don’t know that this course wasn’t fixed
But I do believe I’ve been a bit wrong

My friends, it’s been a long and winding road
And you who know me, know this
It’s difficult to make such admissions
But in claiming otherwise, I’d be remiss

I’m looking forward to joining you, finally
I’m getting back on, yet again
It’s time to grow up, to let go of old scars
To pursue best means to best ends

K

Agony

Hello, my name is Kyle, and I’m a Lakers fan.  Please don’t let that affect your judgment of me in a negative way.  You see, I never had a choice – my Dad was a Lakers fan as a kid, and he passed that tradition on to me.  Growing up outside Salt Lake city, I was the only kid on the block to have a Magic Johnson poster on my wall, instead of Karl Malone or John Stockton.  To blend in, I accepted the Jazz and became a fan, but I always had it in me to love the purple and gold.  In recent years, as I’ve spent more and more time in Los Angeles, I’ve traded in my Jazz card and have sided with the Lakers on a more permanent basis.

All of this information is just background, leading up to my point:  I’m in pain.  Being a fan hurts.  If you’re a true fan, a real fan of a team and you’ve been one for any period of time, you certainly know how I feel.  Just by pure percentage chances, the team you love and follow is NOT going to win the title.  Not this year, anyway, unless you’re a Celtics fan.

And that means, clearly, that my team did not win.  In fact, it’s been kind of a long time since any of my teams won, the Lakers themselves being the last.  It’s been almost 15 years since the Dallas Cowboys won it all.  Longer for the Baltimore Orioles (I know, it’s a strange combination of teams to follow).

But this is what it is to be a fan.  To live and die by your teams is bound to give you a lot of heartache, but it makes the joy of victory, when it comes, all the sweeter.

And so, I repeat the mantra of the team that almost did it.  As much is it kills me to say this:

There’s always next year.

K

A New, Positive Series on Vinyl Draft

Instead of just complaining all the time, Ben and I have started a series of posts on Vinyl Draft devoted to talking only about awesome things.  It’s going to be, in a word, awesome.  And that fills my daily quota for that particular word.

THINGS THAT ARE SAVING AMERICA

Post 1 is about the new musical revolution.  Chiggity check it.

K

The Legend of Tiger Woods

Just yesterday, Tiger Woods won the US Open, the 14th major tournament victory of his 12-year career. Big deal, you say, that guy wins all the time. Everyone knows he’s great, and everyone knows that all the other golfers (all fat schlubs compared to golf’s one true athlete) pale in comparison. That’s all true, but this last weekend actually was a big deal.

Tiger Woods, playing in his first tournament since knee surgery, defeated the 45 year-old Rocco Mediate after 19 extra-curricular holes on Monday, the last being a sudden-death hole. (The term “sudden-death hole” sounds kind of terrifying, doesn’t it?) He showed us moments of weakness and mere mortality, like those painful bogeys (single and, gasp, double) on the first hole throughout the weekend. He literally showed the pain he felt in his knee as his face contorted after each drive. He struggled to shoot an even round on the notoriously tough and long Torrey Pines course.

But, ladies and gentlemen, Tiger is not the man because he never gets himself into trouble. He’s the man because he always gets himself out if it – he does so better than anyone you or I have ever seen. Mentally, he’s unbreakable. Physically, he’s as strong as anyone on the course. He has the game; golf instructors around the world use slow motion frames of his drives to teach students of all ages the perfect swing. When Tiger got himself into trouble early on Friday and Saturday, he finished so amazingly, so spectacularly, that before Sunday even began, this was already a classic US Open. And then Sunday happened, and that great birdie putt on 18 to send it to an 18-hole playoff. And then Monday happened and well, you already know the rest. This will go down as one of the greatest tournaments ever, and it will certainly go down as Tiger’s greatest victory.

What we are witnessing, my friends, is the unfolding of the greatest legend the sport of golf has ever given us, possibly the greatest it ever will. Tiger was born to play this game, but he was also born to play it better than anyone ever has. Like Achilles, he appears to have been dipped into his own river Styx, perhaps by his father. Invincible in battle, the man born Eldrick Tont Woods strikes absolute fear into the hearts of his competitors. Like Achilles, his name will go down through the ages, passed on in stories and books as a hero. Unlike Achilles, however, even at his weakest, Tiger cannot be defeated. He proved that this last weekend.

And I was there. I saw him play on Saturday. I witnessed a part of Tiger’s greatest victory yet, and I’ll never forget it. But before I go on about the champion, I’d like to share a story about his tenacious competitor: Rocco Mediate.

My Dad and I sat in the grandstands that surround the 5th green at Torrey Pines during the Saturday round. We saw every single golfer come through, hit their drives and approach shots, make or miss their putts, etc. It was incredible to see the level of focus that these professionals maintain. When Tiger and Robert Karlsson arrived at the green, thousands of people and thirty cameras followed them. But they weren’t the last group to come through – Rocco and Stuart Appleby were last, with Rocco still in the lead for the tournament. As he approached, only two cameras and about 1/3 the people remained – the rest had followed Tiger on to six.

From first glimpse, Mediate looked to be having the time of his life. He was smiling, appreciative of the applause from the grandstand, where we had remained to see him play. As he approached his ball, someone yelled, “It’s straight, Rocco!” Rocco laughed and thanked the man in the crowd for the putting advice. While some golfers take themselves so seriously, this guy was laughing and joking with the crowd in the midst of the biggest tournament of his life. This is a guy that loves the game. He sank his putt and moved on. That’s a moment I’ll never forget.

By all accounts, Rocco Mediate deserved to win. He was steady, he played well, he had all the karma in the world on his side. And Tiger still beat him. That is why he’s the greatest now, and will continue to be the greatest golfer we’ll ever see. I can’t imagine anyone coming along and being more dominant, more perfect when he needs to be, than Mr. Woods.

And that’s also why I’ll never, ever be able to root against him.

K

Energy Drinks Are Ruining America

Yo yo, whatup, y’alls?  New post on the Vinyl Draft bliggity blog.  Another in the series on the things that are ruining this fine country of ours.  Check it out.

CLICK.

K

Happy Father’s Day

As I’m sitting here, watching the Lakers try to stay alive against the Boston Celtics in the NBA Finals, it’s more than just watching a game. You see, I’m watching it with my Dad and it’s Father’s Day, but the holiday is almost irrelevant. This is just what we do. We’re homies.

• Some of my earliest memories include going to Utah Jazz games at the old Salt Palace with my Dad. Sports have been a huge part of our relationship since I can remember. Before I could even read, I knew who Magic Johnson and Karl Malone were. Before I knew what football even was, I knew that I was a Dallas Cowboys fan.
• I’ll never forget the tortuous hours spent hitting and fielding baseballs, especially in my first couple years of playing. I’ve always loved baseball, but I was terrible at it as a younger kid. I distinctly recall batting 8th and playing right field, living in constant fear of the ball coming my way – on offense or defense. By the time I was 11, however, I was playing on all-star teams and batting at the top of my team’s lineup. The only reason this ever happened was because my Dad taught me and coached me. Constantly. Most of the time when I didn’t even want him to.
• My Dad never went on a mission, so it was a big deal when I did. On that first terrifying day at the MTC, there’s one specific memory that stands out above all the rest. It’s not the hug I got from my Mom, which was very bittersweet. It’s not my first meal or meeting with my MTC district. It’s not the first time I saw the crappy little room in which I was to live for the next two months. It’s the fist bump I got from my Dad at the last moment before my family went through one door and I another. There was a lot of love and pride in that “rock,” and I’ll never forget the feeling.
• Just last year, we ham & egg’d it hardcore at the Father’s Day golf tournament at our club in Long Beach. Together we shot a net 55 and beat 60 other father/son teams for the title. We weren’t quite able to defend our title today, but we played pretty well and had a good time.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that my Dad has had an immeasurable impact on me in my life, and has been a part of some of my best times. My Mom is absolutely irreplaceable – I love her as much as anyone in my life, and I feel extremely lucky to count both of my parents as two of my closest friends, but the bond I have with my father is something that I just don’t have with anyone else. I know it makes me sound like a kid, but as a 25 year-old kid, I’m proud to say that my Dad is the man.

K