The Hungry Hungry Writer

So if you were listening to Mark & Brian during the 7:00 hour you may have heard Isabella sing “A whole new World” on the radio during ‘Kid Break’. It happened around 7:30 AM. They then asked her to sing “Itsy Bitsy Spider” and she did great. She won us tickets to the Mark & Brian event at Disneyland next weekend!!!

I haven’t been motivated to write lately. I haven’t been motivated to do anything period. I don’t know what it is. My health? Stress? Job? Age? The time of year? I’m not sure.

I intended to write today and have procrastinated. I even missed a weekly article deadline that I’ve never missed in over 12 straight weeks.

And one motivating factor to actually start writing was an email I received this morning from an old friend from high school. She titled it: “Products of Procrastination…”

And here’s what she crafted in her short and sweet email to me:

“You, my friend, are a beautiful writer! Don’t ask me how I found you –it’s a long tale of serendipity as a consequence of my procrastination: I need to cut 3k word off an article that I’m going to send off this week. It’s the worst. Anyway, just wanted to say a quick “hi,” tell you that you are a gorgeous writer, and that I hope to see a full feature film by you and Dale someday soon. Please tell him “Hi” from me.” *R

She sent this from her USC.edu email account so I’m assuming she’s back at school as a student. How do you cut 3,000 words from an article? That’s crazy. When words are so hard to come by sometimes, cutting them seems like a waste of literary value, work and effort.

But, wow. What an ego boost! What a great way to start the morning! Some people send flowers to themselves to make them feel better. I should send emails to myself telling me how ‘beautiful’ a writer I am. A pat on the back is good every once in a while isn’t it? I mean, without it, where’s the fulfillment in things sometimes?

Maybe this is more than an ego boost but enlightenment. Maybe it will rub off on my kids – the ego boost part. If I encourage them more than criticize, maybe they’ll excel in things more than I did. I can’t say my parents encouraged me to be the best I could be, nor do I remember being encouraged to follow my dreams or passions. Maybe I can instill these positive things in the way I bring up my own kids.

As a parent, I tend to critique and correct more than encourage and support. But it’s all about correcting. Correcting their homework, correcting piano, correcting behavior, correcting how they hit a ball, count to 20, or even how they brush their teeth.

It seems little time is spent rewarding them for good things because the correcting part is more of how to direct their paths, look at their mistakes (in homework, etc.) and getting them on the right direction. And when they do it right, it’s a pat on the back and encouragement. But that seems to be at the end, after all the corrections, after all the fixes and behavioral teachings… and if that’s the case, I’m right –pats on the back are fewer and far between the critiques and correcting. I’m sure it’s like that in the majority of families out there.

So, “Products of Procrastination,” it got me to think, and to write. Thanks, Ruth!

I tend to go off on a tangent, so here’s another one.

I’ve written about chance meetings with individuals in my past. From Dennis at Starbucks to Chip at the golf course. I had two more encounters. I ran into an old co-worker at the putting green at Scholl Canyon Golf Course. It would seem normal, I’m at a golf course and he plays golf. The thing about the chance meeting is that I ran into him a couple years ago at the La Canada Sports Chalet. I mean, what are the chances of running into the same old coworker once again years later?

Two nights ago, while driving home, I saw an old friend walking down the street. I had talked to him a couple of weeks ago about getting the old gang together and a few emails were exchanged. Well, here he is, walking down the street so I pull over and we share a moment, shake hands, and tell each other we should get together soon.

Come on… there has to be some kind of meaning behind all of this? It remains to be seen.

That’s all for now.

My sports talk…

Baseball is back. Whew. Believe it or not, I love baseball. It is, by far, my absolute favorite sport in the whole wide world.

It’s the only sport I’ve ever played a whole season on in video game format – and I play them all – sports video games that is.

I will not attend a game till I hear the parking situation is solved and smoothed over. Ah, hell – who cares about parking? Get me tickets now!

The Dodgers, after a horrible 2 game losing streak to start the season, have showed their force. Pitching and offense. Veterans leading the team. Defense showing their stuff. A new catcher who has been compared to Jason Varitek (a catcher I wanted them to acquire last year in fact.)

Finally, all the pieces are in place. A speedy outfield, a solid pen with a closer that, believe it or not, took Gagne’s place with flying colors.

Kent, Nomar, Gonzo, Martin… wow. This is the team I’ve been waiting for since Karros, Piazza and Mondesi and Zeile. Now if Penny holds up to form, Lowe continues his good work, with support by Tomko and Wolf, who needs Schmidt to come back?

If only they could get a solid 3rd baseman. I’d have Beltre with a .263 BA and 2 HRs over this guy any day – at least right now.

It looks like a great year for the boys in blue (although they are losing tonight).

And on to my fantasy sports leagues…

I moved my ‘ChunichiMagicDragons’ fantasy team into a rotisserie league on Yahoo against 7 other managers I’ve never met. I’m in 7th place out of 8 right now. Last year my team was a disaster on the horrible ESPN rotisserie league.

My annual fantasy league – which this year I call, the “ALL YOU CAN EAT PAVILLION 2007” is going great although I lost my first game. The managers are great - I look forward to playing them every year. This year I introduced my new team: ‘HokkaidoSpamFighters’.

My Fantasy Basketball Team called “Hemo Globin Trotters” should win my “Double Drool 06” Basketball rotisserie league with just tonight (Wednesday) remaining.

In my Fantasy Hockey Leagues, both my teams: ‘GorillaIceMonkies II’ and ‘GorillaIceFunkies I’ tanked – as in, went down the toilet. I hate Fantasy Hockey!

I doubt I’ll run a basketball and hockey league next year. I can’t wait till Football season where I can defend my championship from last season! So I got a championship in Basketball, and in Football, and last season I came in 2nd in baseball. I have yet to win a baseball league and hopefully this year is the year.

Most managers can have a great team with the player pool available. It all comes down to getting into the playoffs and having a little bit of luck.

So… I’m wishing myself luck because who really cares but me.

But I sit here, with my hands on the keyboard desperate for something to be typed.

Dale told me I should write something today.

I was like, okay… and in my head I was like, like what?

I can’t think straight. It’s been that way for weeks. Maybe the disruption of life by the destruction of my kitchen has caused a glitch in my brain synapses.

I can’t get any thoughts or ideas on paper and if they do come into my head, I can’t massage it enough to get a solid anything out on paper.

Ramblings is all I have.

Work sucks. Life’s not so great. I spend too much on coffee, and food, and I took up Coke again.

Last Saturday was my last sip of Coke. I even resisted the temptation last night and just had water.

My stomach aches daily, my head has this pang-pang-pang in it, my ankles, elbows and wrists are sore from running and golf, and I have this uneasiness that I’m calling depression.

Ignorant people at work are getting to me, the lack of brain muscles used to do an analysis is driving me insane and the only brain stimulant I get through the day is consecutive multiple games of Solitaire on my palm pilot.

I may get back into Soduku but that takes so much time, I have to start riding my bike and swimming but I have time till the A Race of the year and I need to start being more of a person than I am as I promised at the beginning of the year.

I’m two books behind on my book of the month reading goal, I now have to run 113 miles a month if I want to make my 1,200 miles goal and I’ve lost all motivation to do anything beneficial for my health.

The only thing that keeps me going is my family and there are ups and downs there as well.

Is this a suicide note?

Damn sure could be I guess but hell, it ain’t that bad.

Why? Because lets put life into perspective.

Families lost their kids in the Virginia Tech shootings.

Boyfriends, girlfriends, best friends, teachers, spouses, lovers… killed.

All because of a deranged, irrational, sick in the head animal who decided that life wasn’t worth living. Yet he killed many and not just himself. No rhyme, no reason – at least from a rational point of view.

I heard a caller on the radio on the Jim Rome show say we should close the borders to these foreigners.

FUCK YOU you ignorant fuck! Timothy fuckin’ James McVeigh was not a foreigner.

Jim Rome stopped him there. The caller was a bitter ignorant fool who unfortunately lost several friends on 9-11.

Columbine would not have been prevented if the borders were closed you ignorant fool.

David Koresh was a religious fanatic and not a foreigner you ignorant mother fucker!

And talking about ignorance… my coworker made a blanket statement about ‘all you guys are the same’… same eyes, same nose, similar skin color. Filipinos, Koreans, Chinese and Japanese are all the same.

My two coworkers, a Mexican and a Filipino, kinda looked at me as I shook my head. As if waiting for me to put this guy in his place… did I? I let it go. Ignorance pisses me off. But you can’t win a battle against an uneducated ignorant fool can you?

So, the perspective is this… my life, your life, your friend’s life might not be perfect. Maybe even absolutely dismal. But so many lives were lost because of a deranged lunatic who killed people who were doing what they were supposed to do on that dark Monday – getting an education, teaching, and living life.

I hate irrationality. I get irrational at times. It causes you to think like a curveball, and when someone hits a home run off of you, you wish you threw the straight fast ball down the middle with heat. That would have been more rational.

So there you have it.

I love golf.

There’s a driving range 1.2 miles away from my office.

Lunch time will be owned by golf.

I can’t bowl without thinking of my dad.

I’m not sure when the last time my dad rolled a bowling ball. I’m not even sure the last time I did either. And ever since I was a small child all the way to my early thirties, my dad has been in a bowling league.

When I visit my dad out of state there was one thing we did – bowl. We haven’t done that in a very long time.

But there is one thing I remember every time I do roll a bowling ball down the lane. It always comes to mind as I release and follow through with the ball. It’s what my dad would tell me as a kid - point my thumb. A good straight thumb on a follow through meant I released the ball where I wanted to release it. My dad would always remind me, where’s your thumb?

Often times I’d notice that my walk back from the line was just like my dad’s. It was uncanny - that look on his face, the strut, the thought process in his head as if to say, remember the form, adjust the form, don’t change a thing and ‘look at me!’ When he hit that strike his chest would stick out a little more, his shoulders back, his mouth a little agape and his jaw square.

I have yet to take my kids out to the local bowling alley yet. It’s a renovated bowling alley and it’s the one I used to go to with my dad. Bowling alley’s, unfortunately, have always grossed me out - it’s dirty and hazardous with these heavy bowling balls rolling around all over the place. The shoes are absolutely gross, and who knows what grimy fingers have been placed in the bowling balls? It’s not the cleanest place for kids that’s for sure.

Needless to say, it’s is a ton of fun for kids if you don’t let the bacteria get to you. It’s still a family outing in my life that will be cherished. When I have played it’s still that same old fun I used to have as a kid when my dad took my sister and I down to Jewel City to bowl.

Wow, life seemed so simple then.

As a kid I would cry when my dad left me on Sunday night to go to his league. It was probably hard for him. I saw it in his eyes as he gently peeled me away from him as I hugged him goodbye wanting so bad to go with him. I’d watch him grab his bowling bag and walk out the door and drive down the street.

Sunday, I did something similar to Jake.

Jake didn’t deserve to go to the golf course after he acted up and cried and complained about promises he said I made. I was more than willing to take him to a round of 9 holes after we went to see Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. I wasn’t sure if we could fit it in our schedule nor was I sure if I could walk the course having run 11 miles earlier in the morning. But my plan was to ‘maybe’ take him out to play golf, or hit balls, if time permit.

But after his outburst, he was punished and no matter what – even if time permitted, he still wasn’t going to go play golf. I wasn’t planning on going either.

Is it a lesson learned that I did go play golf anyway and he stayed home? Did I make a point that if your behavior is poor you won’t get rewarded for it?

Well, even though I was set to sit down and watch the Dodger game, my brother-in-law convinced me to get off the couch and we went and played my first round of 18 holes of golf.

Jake asked where I was going and I told him. He started to cry. It hurt my chest. I remembered my dad. I remember when he went bowling. It was a different situation – he played in a league and I wasn’t being punished. On Sunday, I was punishing Jake for his behavior.

Unfortunately, it will probably happen again. Unfortunately, Jake and I will plan to play, and he will forget about how to behave, and he will have to stay home. Hopefully, a point was made and I can eventually remind him: remember when I went to play golf but you couldn’t go because you were naughty?

Will he remember these days like I remember the days my dad left to go bowling?

In a way I hope he doesn’t. Why would I want him to think back on the negative days of his wonder years? But, in a way I hope he does remember. It builds character. I wouldn’t have that gut wrenching feeling in my stomach thinking back on those days. Yeah, I was a kid and yeah, it probably doesn’t affect how I live my life minute to minute. But… it did affect me emotionally yesterday - which means the past has had an effect on me.

I don’t like leaving him while he cries like that as I play a round of golf. And I can’t wait till the day that every round of golf I play will be with him: and hopefully someday soon, my wife and daughter.

So yeah, I can’t bowl without thinking of my dad. Hopefully Jake will say that about me someday – “I can’t play golf or race Triathlons, play paintball, play baseball, play chess, play video games, read, and eat ice cream without thinking of my Papa.”

Hug your kids today. So many were lost during the tragic events at Virginia Tech. I can’t imagine how those parents feel during such a dark time.

Some odd things have happened to me this week. People have said it before: the world is small. Well, the miles and miles and miles we cover in our lifetime, sometimes along the path there’s a person from your past that you run into, and you have to wonder why this happens.

Just recently I dove head first into golf. It has become an obsession. Those who play understand, those who don’t play you should – you’re missing out. A good friend of mine, Chip, has been playing for years. I don’t have a lot of close friends that play golf but he’s one of them that does. And he’s a good player. Well, I ran into him at the driving range and we hit balls together. No big deal really. I mean, we live in the same town and we’d probably run into each other at the range eventually. That was a couple of weeks ago.

On Good Friday I got out of work early and headed to the golf store in North Hollywood. As I drove in, my friend Chip was driving out. I waved him down and he met me in the store. It was such a chance meeting and a good one because I convinced him to play a round of 9 holes with me since I was out of work. We headed to the local ‘pitch & put’ and had our 9, had a snack and a beer, and talked about golf. It was great!

On Easter my son got me off the couch after watching The Masters and we went to the driving range. Who was there? Chip!

Then, on Monday, I was getting off the freeway and as I was getting off, who was getting on? Chip! I honked at him, he called my cell and we laughed about our fourth chance meeting in just a couple of weeks. I told him that it was a sign that we should be playing more golf together.

Odd? Cool? A sign? I’d like to think it’s more than a coincidence at this point. But here’s what got me to really think about this.

Back in the early 90s I owned a comic book store in San Gabriel, CA. I was fresh out of college and I was running my own business. I hired a college student, Dennis, who was smart, funny, and up-to-date on all the great comic books being written. He worked the store, wrote reviews of comic books for the newsletter, and became a pretty good friend. He left for San Francisco to attend College and on occasion sent a review of comic books I sent him - which I printed in the store newsletter. We lost contact after a while and I figured I’d never see him again.

In April of 2000 I was working in Pasadena just two blocks away from a comic book store. I decided to start a collection for my newborn son so I ventured in and who was managing the store? Dennis! We caught up on the past as I came in to visit every other week to chat and to buy comic books. Dennis left the store some time in 2003 to work for Starbucks and I stopped purchasing comic books, and again, we went our separate ways.

I work in the valley now – the Encino area. San Gabriel is about 30 miles away from my office. Pasadena is about 25 miles away from here. And because of my kitchen remodel process, I can’t make coffee in the morning, so I stop at the Starbucks coffee on my way to work. I’ve been doing this for about four weeks now. Today, I was in line when I heard someone call my name. Who behind the counter would know my name? I’m a regular but not by name. And I looked and I was shocked to see… Dennis – the manager of the local Starbucks!

Now this is weird. From San Gabriel to Pasadena and now Encino. Three separate locations within 30 miles from point to point!

How could this be possible? I’m sure this has happened to people before. But the oddness of this situation is the two people I know that I have run into multiple times versus the many other people I know that I haven’t run into multiple times! Why these two people? Why now? Why has this happened in the past two weeks?

Here’s the weirdest thing of all. Chip and Dennis both worked for me at my comic book store in San Gabriel.

Is it a sign? I’d like to think so. But what’s the meaning? God, I hope it doesn’t mean I have to start buying comic books again! Oh wait – it could just mean I need to play golf more, and invest in Starbucks stock! I guess it could mean whatever you want it to mean.

All three of us are doing completely different things than we were doing back in 1992 when I owned that comic book store. But meeting these two friends out of the blue just makes me wonder; Is it just a coincidence or is there something more to it than that? Is the world really that small?

I’m going to try and find out.

I need a vacation.

Why? Because it sucks.

There are a few recurring challenges I face on a daily basis. One is; what will I write today? And since taking up golf; can I possibly hit the ball straight? But for two weeks straight I’ve been asking myself; can I possibly run up to Scholl Canyon Golf Course?

I’m used to the writing challenge. It bears its weight on my shoulders and I’ve dealt with it for so long its just a part of me. The golf thing - yeah, I’m never going to be a pro, but I have a goal to eventually hit the ball straight and be competitive. But the running up Scholl Canyon thing – that one is a new one that for some reason has been creating stress in my mind. Can I do it?

If I tried it I’d hate to quit half way up and walk. And even if I made it to the top, I’d hate to quit at the top call for a ride home. I’d hate to suffer so much that I wished I waited to run it after I logged more hill training. In a way, the thought of running up to Scholl Canyon Golf Course has been holding me back. I sat in bed both Saturday and Sunday morning thinking I was going to get up and face the challenge. I decided if I wasn’t going to run up that wall that I’d run a 5K instead. Did I do any running this weekend? No… I stayed in bed.

Then Steve text messages me on Sunday to let me know he ran a personal best 5K race in 23:28. That’s a 7:34 min mile average. And that is fast!

Here I am, not running, and my buddy is hitting a personal best in a race. What a waste of two days. No training. No running. Just laziness.

I went home early on Monday due to computer month end data issues at work and a headache. I got in bed and took a nap and when Donna finally woke me up at 5PM, I told her I needed to run. So she said she’d meet me at my sister’s house for dinner.

My goal was to get a run in: 3, 4 maybe even 5 miles. I just needed to run. An easy run on Kenneth - the usual. I hadn’t run since Thursday. Three whole days off is way too much rest. And it’s becoming a habit.

So at 5PM I was out the door heading for Glenoaks Blvd. and instead of making a left, I made a right on Glenaoaks: toward Scholl Canyon Golf Course.

The elevation to run would is 650 feet at the start of my house to 1460 feet at the top of Scholl Canyon. That’s an 810 foot in elevation run in 3.8 miles. It doesn’t sound that bad, but the last 1.38 miles is a 537 foot climb. It’s a difference of 110 feet per mile from my house to the base of Scholl Canyon followed by a 389 feet per mile climb from their to the top.

And if you know the area, there’s a challenge before the challenge. There’s a hill that starts on Verdugo Blvd. I’ve run the hill several times for hill training. It’s always a tough climb but I knew it’d feel easy compared to the winding road up to Scholl Canyon Golf Course.

I ran past Verdugo and then up the hill then down and started the slight incline towards Scholl Canyon. This incline is unforgiving. It’s all up hill. Sure, it’s not that steep at first but once you get to Scholl Canyon it becomes quite a formidable taskl. There are no down hills to rest your legs. If there’s a flat part it goes unnoticed. It goes up, up and up and then it goes straight up!

Finally, I look up and there it is, looming in front of me - the base of Scholl Canyon. I knew I wasn’t going to do this run half-assed and stop at the baseball field 1200 feet or so from the top, I was going to keep going no matter what. If I stop anywhere other than the top, the run, to me, would have been a failure.

The steady incline up Glenoaks felt good, and I had a lot preserved as I approached the base of Scholl Canyon. I had run 2.4 miles already and now came the true test. I made the turn and immediately as I passed the gate my legs felt the difference in the incline. I was at 923 feet elevation and in the next 1.4 miles I would run up a wall up another 537 feet in elevation.

I passed a guy who was walking down. He smiled and waved. He was either thinking, you are crazy, or are an inspiration. I was thinking I was crazy.

It felt like forever as I approached the baseball fields. I had kept my head down, looking at the bike path, keeping my back straight and bending at the hips if I had to lean into the run. Two cyclists passed me slowly as they headed to the top. They were just as focused as I was, slowly moving our legs, focused on reaching the top.

I didn’t even look at the baseball fields to see if kids were playing. I was like a thoroughbred with blinders on. I didn’t want to look and let my brain convince me that I had enough and to turn back home.

Up ahead I saw the sign: 1000 feet till the end of the road.

I knew the next sign was 500 feet away and by car it comes fast. By foot, it took an eternity.

I passed that next sign and looked ahead – a straight shoot to the top. I felt so good. I felt motivated. I felt like screaming, “I DID IT!” I touched the gate, a sense of reality to actually touch it, and I turned back down the hill.

I still had to run back to my sister’s house.

But for 3.85 miles I played mental games in order to make it to the top. I remembered how tough it was to run the first 1.5 miles up Grand Avenue at the Los Angeles Triathlon. I pictured running the last few miles of the IronMan Championships in Kona, Hawaii. I thought about the great weight that would be lifted off my shoulders because I did what I set out to do.

And the run to my sister’s house was easy, gratifying, and so refreshing that I thought I could run all night long.

Just think, if I had made the left turn on Glenoaks Blvd. I would never know if I could make it to the top of Scholl Canyon. Fortunately, I made the ‘right’ turn.

A 7.18 mile run on a Monday night. It’s a great way to spend 1 hour and 14 minutes in pure meditation.

Here is the elevation graph. Click on it for a bigger version.

MILE SPLIT
Mile 1 - 0:09:54
Mile 2 - 0:10:22
Mile 3 - 0:11:50
Mile 4 - 0:12:52
Mile 5 - 0:08:38
Mile 6 - 0:09:11
Mile 7 - 0:09:43
Mile 7.18 - 0:02:02
Total - 1:14:32

My run was slow, but my heart was fast. My HR shows how tough the run was despite the slow pace:
MILE HR bpm
Mile 1 - 168
Mile 2 - 189
Mile 3 - 195
Mile 4 - 195
Mile 5 - 190
Mile 6 - 190
Mile 7 - 191
Mile 7.18 - 189