Wednesday, February 20, 2008

The End of the Facebook Universe

So apparently, I've reached the end of the Facebook universe. I just got an e-mail message saying, "Brian Lee has added you as a friend on Facebook." That's right. Apparently, I added myself. Seemed like it was worth clicking on just to see what would happen.

Turns out there's a world of Brian Lee's out there. A world. Searching for my name yielded 338 groups. Groups like:

· I Heart Brian Lee (I especially like the description, “Brian Lee is the golden calf.”)

· I Was Once Punched by Brian Lee (with 46 members!)

· Brian Lee Can Crush the Universe

· Brian Lee is Not Good

· The Brian Lee Fanclub

· I Support Brian Lee

· Center for the Advancement of Brian Lee for Political Office

· Brian Lee Saved Graduation

· Brian Lee’s Unite!!

· We Think Brian Lee is Katherine’s Stalker (which is weird, because I used to date a girl named Katherine...)

· Yes...I Have Used the ‘Brian Lee’ Fake (which apparently is “dedicated to the hundreds of people who have used the infamous “Brian Lee” fake ID to buy almost anything illegal”)


Wow. Apparently, Brian Lee has a rather high view of himself...

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

Untitled and Unwritten

God, I miss writing. But you were so much more than I was ready for. Truth is, I can't get past the first few sentences. And that's where all the good stuff happens.

Wednesday, June 06, 2007

Wedding Bells for Erich

My brother just got married last weekend! More details and pics to come.

Sunday, April 15, 2007

The Dreamlife of Worker Bees

Last night, I had a dream that I was trapped in a hotel room with a polar bear and a fox. I distinctly remember jumping between the two double beds in an effort to evade both animals -- both were trying to eat me. Just as the fox lunged at me, the polar bear snapped it up. As the bear was shaking the fox in its mouth, I ran for the bathroom and barricaded myself in there.

Now I have no idea what that means, but I am sure it has everything to do with my job, and the fact that I am working all the time (far from a reprieve from my law firm days). Either that or I'm watching too much Planet Earth, which incidentally, is the best show on television.

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Sunday, January 07, 2007

New Year, New Year...

Hi. Welcome back.

Truth is that having my own website has been wearing on me. Mostly because it's for people that understand computers, HTML codes, server compatibility, etc., etc., blah blah blah. Here's what I've realized about that. I'm not that guy. Yes, I know some HTML stuff. Enough to make the borders blue and have my header.

But really, when it comes down to it, there's just too much to worry about with my own site. Too much spam. Too much maintenance. Not to mention that it costs money to host. So, I'm back where I started in 2003. Even before I blogged here.

Stay tuned for more to come. I'm not sure what I want to do this year, but I know I want to write. Whether it's observations, insights...or just plain fiction and storytelling, I'm hoping to add more here soon.

Thanks for checking in. I promise that i won't disappoint you.

Wednesday, January 03, 2007

Moving to Flickr

In what could be the beginning of the end for my blog, I've decided to move my photos out to Flickr. It's got a great interface, and quite frankly, it's ten times easier to upload and organize them.

I'm just not sure yet what to do with the lack of writing. I'm not giving up. Just trying to figure out what the next evolution will look like. Until then, click here for the photos.

Saturday, November 25, 2006

Ummm...junk mail, anyone?

So Teresa came in with the mail today, and this is what we had in our mailbox...

Mail1.jpg

Mail2.jpg

Mail3.jpg

Yep. All that. It's a bit hard to appreciate, so here's a list of what I got:

  • Washingtonian magazine
  • Entertainment Weekly magazine
  • TWO Godiva Chocolate catalogues
  • Nordstrom catalogue
  • Pottery Barn catalogue
  • TWO J. Crew catalogues
  • Sports Illustrated magazine
  • LL Bean credit card offer
  • Costco credit card
  • FedEx letter for old roommate
  • Invitation to Christmas party
  • Letter from Fourth Presbyterian Church
  • Citibank statement
  • LL Bean order confirmation letter
  • Happy Thanksgiving card
  • Samson Realty newsletter
  • Lord & Taylor catalogue
  • Volunteer fire and rescue department request for money
  • Valupak coupon savings package
  • United Airlines credit card offer
  • Bank of America credit card offer
  • BathExpress bathroom renovation flyer
  • Bed, Bath and Beyond catalog
  • Vienna Connection newspaper
  • Sun Gazette newspaper
  • Jackson & Perkins holiday gift catalogue
  • Outer Banks, NC vacation planner
  • The Economist magazine offer
  • See’s Candies catalogue
  • Sears Craftsman catalogue
  • Brookstone catalogue
  • Macy’s catalogue
  • Harry & David catalogue
  • Citigroup account offer
  • The Wisconsin Avenue Collection flyer
  • The Kitchen Guild kitchen renovation flyer
  • Lord & Taylor credit card offer
  • Bank of America bank account offer

You can't make this stuff up. All in all, a bad day for the environment. And we're not even in December. I can't wait to find out how many J. Crew catalogues I get before the end of the year. The over/under is 25.

Saturday, September 23, 2006

There Are No Christmas Trees in San Diego

This is how I know Christmas is around the bend. Not the displays at our neighborhood Macy's or Williams Sonoma. Not the piped in Muzak in the elevators of office buildings. Nope. It's the trumpet player that sits on the street outside the World Bank. Earlier this week, he started playing, “O Christmas Tree”. Normally, it’s an eclectic mix of the Star Spangled Banner, the horse racetrack call to attention, and Taps (which I find strangely humorous playing on my walk to work). Yes, it's decidedly random. But yesterday? Nope. Like Snoopy dancing on the top of his doghouse roof at the first sign of snow, this trumpeteer was belting it out, puffing his cheeks out like Louis Armstrong. Satchmo channeling Ernst Anschutz.

But he’s definitely got a jump on the stores. With temperatures here dropping into the bona fide 70s, we might actually have a winter to look forward to. I can't wait.

That being said, I’m definitely looking forward to my trip to San Diego next week. Teresa's headed to a conference all week in Rancho Santa Fe, so I'm just tagging along for the ride. Heading to Encinitas for golf school during the first half of the week, a nice Friday morning at Del Mar National if I can squeeze it in and then down to San Diego proper for some fine food and some find lodging. I can’t think of a better way to spend a vacation. Fun, sun and many pics to come.

Friday, September 15, 2006

Mmmmmmmmmmmm...Nano?

I don't know what's wrong with me. Clearly, I have been brainwashed by the people at Apple. I've somehow convinced myself that somehow, it was my fault that my iPod broke. 4 times. Evidently from all the "walking" I do to and from the Metro. Whatever. So I was convinced that hard drives simply can't take the heat.

ipodnanohero20060912.jpg

Friday, September 01, 2006

Addicted to Alaska...or Something Like It

So I had to see for myself. Had to find out if Al Gore's Scary Mystery Science 3000 movie was true. Rest assured, the ice is still there. That is, I think so... After escaping 100 degree temperatures in Seattle (that's right...SEATTLE), we shipped off into the fog.

As far as I can tell, this is what Alaska looks like:

fog1.jpg


Pics coming, but suffice to say that we beat the fog, helicoptered across glaciers, walked in a rain forest, saw more than a fair share of bald eagles and ate more than our fill of food. Oh, and I got addicted to my motion sickness medication. It was awesome.

I just got back from Birmingham last week. Had a client meeting there, and I stayed over an extra day to see one of my best friends. Next stop -- San Diego in less than a month. Gitty up.

Thursday, July 20, 2006

How I Know I'm a Guy

We’re headed out to Seattle tomorrow morning. Then to Alaska for a week. Teresa’s been figuring out the clothes she needs for the trip. Piles of clothes in a guest bedroom. Short-sleeve shirts? Check. Formal evening gown? Check. Raincoat? Check. Me? I haven’t thought about packing yet. Okay, I brought up my suitcase from the basement, but it doesn’t have anything in it yet.

Instead of packing clothes tonight, I’m packing music. Working out my playlists and new artists. Downloading stuff on to Teresa’s iPod, because…well, mine is broken. Again. When you turn it on, this icon comes up.

93936_4.gif



My rage with Apple and iPods is well documented.


So I’m almost ready to go. I’d much rather have the right music and my laptop than an extra pair of jeans. I’m planning on blogging quite a bit next week, but don’t know if I’ll have internet access. We’ll see.

My Decidedly Pop Alaska Trip Playlist:

Everything Will Be Alright, Joshua Radin
How to Save a Life, The Fray
Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol
Strangers Again, Ari Hest
Bent, Matt Nathanson
Sometimes You Can’t Make it on Your Own, U2
Talk to You, Brian Webb
Fair, Remy Zero
Only You, Joshua Radin covering Yaz
Let it Fall, Nickel Creek and Glenn Phillips

I’ve got a crazy amount of travel planned for the rest of the year. Attending a wedding in North Carolina in August. San Diego in September. New York in October. Chicago and possibly Birmingham in November. And Naples in December. And I’ve already put Vegas, Aspen and Cape Cod on the calendar for next year. First thing’s first though. I’m off to see the last glacier on earth (according to Al Gore). I’ll let you know if it’s still there – forecasted temperature in Seattle tomorrow – 94 degrees. Ouch.

Wednesday, June 21, 2006

Sudoku? Ummm...

Okay. I admit it. I'm scared of Sudoku. That's right. All those numbers in boxes. 3 x 3 boxes inside of 3 x 3 boxes. There's something too methodical about it. Too symmetrical. I haven't tried it. But like my friends say, I don't need to try cocaine to know that it's bad for me. Okay, I don't really have friends that talk like that, but... Don't tell me you haven't seen what it does to people. On any given morning, on my Metro ride into work, there are no less than 5 Sudoku zombies, racking their brains trying to figure out if that box should have a "3" or "4". Really? Does it matter? Apparently so.

And some people are doing it in pen. The girl sitting next to me on the Metro did -- in her Big Book of Sudoku. Now that's just showing off. I was going to take a picture of her doing it in pen to show you that I wasn't exaggerating, but then I thought twice about it. Stranger. Camera. Asking to take a picture of you "doing Sudoku". Definitely creepy.

I suppose when it comes down to it, maybe I'm afraid I'll like it. A lot. And the last thing I need is another addiction. Between playing No Limit Hold 'em, watching episodes of Lost and eating Coldstone ice cream, the last thing I need is another addiction. God knows I have enough.

One of these days, I'm sure I'll break down, and try to tackle one of those puzzles with Zoolander-like skill ("Wait. The files are IN the computer???"), one of these days...when I have an hour (or five) to kill. But I'm not holding my breath. Busy seems to be the order of the day. And an Xbox 360 is definitely in my sights, now that it seems the PS3 won't be out until 2007. Once I buy the Xbox, you'll never see me again. That's only a slight exaggeration.

Saturday, June 10, 2006

Finish Line

Tonight finds me kicking back on my bench outside, smoking a celebratory Opus X and enjoying the beautiful evening weather. After over a month of 14-18 hour days, our first meeting is finally in the books, literally. It was extremely well-received, which will make our next month considerably lighter, although I'm not holding my breath. Work always seems to come out of the pores of our office.

It was a long month to say the least, and I am beginning to realize that a banker's life is not for the married. Or a lawyer's life for that matter. There's simply not enough time in the day. And that's not really what I want to have written on my tombstone. Or at least that's what I keep telling myself.

I've got a million errands to run, and so I suspect that much of the day tomorrow will be spent doing them. It feels good this cool evening though. Good to be sitting here, and not thinking about how to explain the next big legal management consulting insight. Not checking e-mail. It feels quiet. And though I have a million thoughts to keep me company, I'm not indulging them right now. For now, it's me, a cigar, a drink, and a heaping tablespoon of everything feeling just about right.

Sunday, May 28, 2006

Two Chinese Boys

So this past week brought a ridiculous amount of work. Friday though was frustratingly slow, and our team was getting punchy, as evidenced by the following video sent to me by a co-worker. I have to say though, it made my week. That is, until I realized that the URL for this site is www.twochineseboys.blogspot.com.

That can't be good for me.






Saturday, May 20, 2006

Writing Like A Glacier

I'm taking a break from what has been an exceptionally busy month. It's the busy season at work, and I have been putting in my share of late nights and weekends, coming up with arguments and trying to figure out why conventional wisdom is wrong. I've still got a fair amount of work before tomorrow, so this is sure to be a relatively short, rambling train-of-thought kind of post.

Truth is, I miss blogging. I miss the idea of taking an hour or two out of the day and sketching out my thinking on the computer. Not that I had an hour or two in the day. But it always seemed that I could just shut my door and find that time to be quiet. Now that I'm married, there's no door to shut anymore. And the biggest thing that I'm finding takes getting used to is that I won't have that ever again. At least not for myself.

I'm looking forward to the end of the busy season, which ought to be in about 3 weeks. Teresa and I are headed to Alaska in July, and I'm looking forward to taking some time off for myself later next month. But for now, this work I'm doing is all I can see. That and the promise of more late-night dinners on the firm.

Wednesday, April 05, 2006

Moving Like A Glacier

A change in personality is never like the way you see it in the movies. In truth, change is rarely measured in epiphanies, and meted out in heaping tablespoons of feeling. In real life, I think change occurs on a much smaller and mundane level. In this time zone, personality changes are glacial in nature, carved from the big decisions we make, and gradually melting under the heat of the stress of our daily lives.

In my almost five months of marriage, I have found that change within me has run slower than expected. Slower than the seasons. And springtime has yet to thaw me. Not that I thought it would be easy. Not for one second. Maybe I thought it would be more synergistic than symbiotic. More partnership than kinship. In the marathon of marriage, I’m feeling tired just from the warmup. Then again, as I am sure some can attest to, I was never really “in shape” when it came to relationships.

Marriage continues to change the way I see things. All of my legal training is useless in the new, stifling construct of marriage. There is no fair argument in a marriage. I am constantly in retreat mode, falling back to the Alamo of my heart, hiding in the closet of my own selfishness, knowing all the while that it simply is a matter of time before change comes for me. Understandably I think, 33 years of single life have convinced me that marriage is after my independent soul, and that with each trinket and ornamental picture frame that appears on the bookshelves and coffee tables of my house, I am becoming less of who I want to be. Slowly. Insidiously. But as sure as the sun and right as rain.

I find myself bargaining for the smallest of things. My CD collection. My old towels. Rugby shirts. Anything to help me remember who I once was. But like old memories, I suppose, there comes a time when you have to let go. And that time for me was five months ago.

Don’t get me wrong. I think marriage is great. But it’s enormous. It’s an oak tree in the middle of your living room. Still, I feel like I’m growing into a better person because of it. And with every day that passes, I’m beginning to understand that marriage is a bit like exercising. The effort is always worth it.

Wednesday, March 22, 2006

Amuse Bouche

These past months have been busier than I could have imagined. Errands upon errands. Work assignments piling up. And that toilet still hasn’t been fixed. Somewhere around the beginning of the year, I apparently turned 45.

To catch you up (and to relieve my irrational guilt for not writing), this is my abridged, Christmas-letter version of the past three months:
  • Learned that a valet ran my car into the side of a passing car
  • Met and had dinner with Cal Ripken, Jr.
  • Was accosted by the police, who came to my house, thinking I was a burglar
  • Had my jacket stolen, along with my keys, cash and new phone
  • Spent the past month underwater at work
  • Became surreptitiously addicted to American Idol
  • Learned the Korean alphabet (apparently, there’s a “k” and a “kk”)

    There are hundreds of stories packed into the past few months. Stories about getting used to marriage, and about marriage getting used to me. Enough stories to make me understand how Bill Cosby can go on stage and perform a 3-hour monologue on the virtues and vices of marriage. I think I could do a stand-up routine right now.

    With that said, I’m hoping to get on a more regular schedule of writing. And so I'd consider this an appetizer. Or actually, the chef’s pre-appetizer. You know, the tiny crouton topped with caviar and some sort of goat-cheese blend that the waiter brings out “compliments of the chef”. It’s the thing that’s so small, that you wonder why someone would go to all that trouble to make it.

    Good things are coming. I guarantee it.

  • Wednesday, March 15, 2006

    Ummmm...American Idol is Addictive

    Okay. I admit it. It’s been a while since I’ve written. And I could rightfully attribute it to the increasing workload and responsibilities of my job, the fact that I have a ridiculous number of errands to run, or that I am spending time with my new wife. That’s all true. But I fear the real reason is much more sinister. Somehow, after several years of ignoring the call of the inevitable, it’s happened. I have finally succumbed to the pop-culture juggernaut that is American Idol. I’m not sure how it happened, except to say that it did. One glimpse became a look. A look grew into curiosity. Curiosity into fascination. And fascination turned into me sitting in front of the TV every Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday night cheering for Chris Daughtry, my favorite from the beginning.

    Now it isn’t to say that I like all the performers. I mean, Kevin Covais is a train wreck. A nervous, 12-year old train wreck. And Paula Abdul has to be drunk half the time. What is it she said? "What did you tell me Simon? What did you tell me? Simon gave me advice and said on 'The X Factor' he always refers to a fortune cookie and says the moth who finds the melon - (laughter) - finds the corn flake always finds the melon and one of you didn’t pick the right fortune.” Now I have no idea what that means, but she said it. Honest.

    Don't worry. I haven’t gotten into calling the phone lines to “vote” for the contestants, mostly because I think when you’ve crossed the line from passive enjoyment to active participant, you’re just one step away from plastering up Clay Aiken posters all over your bedroom walls. And I’m pretty sure Teresa wouldn’t be to excited about that.

    Wednesday, February 22, 2006

    Paper Jam? Why does it say Paper Jam?

    They say a picture is worth a thousand words, but for anyone who's seen the movie "Office Space", I think this one says more. I walked in on Monday morning to find this picture attached to our prehistoric fax/printer machine. Positively one of the funniest things I've seen in a long time. That's the kind of place I work at. No note. Just an anonymous picture. Awesome.


    copier2.jpg

    Saturday, February 04, 2006

    Saturday Morning Espresso

    So I'm making a resolution right now. A month late, but nevermore heartfelt. I am taking Saturday mornings off. No huge to-do lists. No Home Depot. No Bed Bath & Beyond. Just quiet mornings in an overstuffed chair, drinking a freshly made espresso and reading the paper. Listening/watching Norah Jones in concert, singing "The Long Way Home". Perfect. There's something about the stillness of the morning, and the sabbath from the urgent that helps me order my day.

    And the days have become increasingly busy. Filled with all the things I've convinced myself are necessary to do before the week starts all over again. Work is spilling over from Friday afternoon. One more e-mail. One more thing to buy. One more thing to fix. One more, one more, one more.

    As busy as I think I am, I know that I am destined for busier times. I can feel them catching up to me. An undertow pulling me back into the urgent. I have grocery lists and audio/video cables to buy for the TV. But for now. For this moment. I'm resting. And that's okay with me, even if I can see the smoke of my own industry on the horizon.

    I'm going to take another sip of my espresso before I start my day. Having a few friends over to watch the Super Bowl tomorrow, and making a big pot of chili. What could better than chili and football? I'll let you know if I ever find out.

    NOTE: Wedding pics have finally been scanned and put up on the site. You can see them here.

    Monday, January 30, 2006

    When 549 Billion Colors Simply Aren't Enough

    If I've learned one thing in this world, I've learned this: nothing is perfect. Case in point: when you have 549 billion colors on your TV, there are bound to be a few that just annoy you. Mostly because they don't exist in this world, but that they are exceptionally bright. Like someone's got a laser pointer pointed directly into your eye. Add that to a 150% contrast ratio, and you've got pictures that don't look quite real. Great when you're watching sports. Not so great when you're trying to watch a really old episode of "Murder She Wrote". Not that I watch "Murder She Wrote". Seriously. I don't. I may be old, but I'm not that old.

    Don't get me wrong. I love the TV. But something funky was going on. So after years of research, and tons of time and favors cashed in, I'm returning the TV. But truthfully, the sadness will be replaced with joy on Saturday, because I returned the TV for this one instead. In the end, this is the one I wanted anyways. Really. Take that Samsung.

    Strange how life works sometimes. Okay. Now gitty up.

    Tuesday, January 17, 2006

    Losing...in High Def

    So I finally got the TV mounted above my fireplace, and I have to say...now that it’s up, it’s...well...big. Really big. But complaining that an HD television is too big is like complaining that your diamond shoes are too tight. Needless to say, I spent Friday night watching nature programs and the Discovery Channel. No kidding. Ask anyone who has an HD set. I guarantee that they did the same thing when they first got their TV.

    And, of course, there was the Redskins game on Saturday. It was in every paper, every local newscast – you couldn’t get away from it. That’s D.C. for you. Needless to say, I invited a bunch of friends over to watch the game. Teresa was making ridiculous amounts of food, and it was fifteen minutes to kickoff. HDTV. Chips. Drinks. Couldn’t be happier. And that’s when it happened -- the power went out. I actually think I heard the collective groaning from every football fan in our neighborhood. What happened next was a ridiculous trip that took us out in the blizzard-like sleet and snow to the closest bar (which sadly, was Chili's) and then to another friend’s house before going back to watch the second half. Not the best way to spend a Saturday, but it was fun. Until the Redskins lost.

    In other news, the wedding pictures finally came, and I am working on putting them up on the website. We received close to 500+ pics, so naturally, not all are making the cut. Plus, there’s only so many pictures you can take of me posing for the camera (“Okay, now put your hand on your knee. Okay, now move your head to the side. Okay, now with the hand off the knee and on your face. Greaaaaaaat.”) I felt like I was a child in my family photo shoot – put a bowl cut on me, and it would have been 1975. It’s taking a while, since the photos have to be individually scanned in, and I’m working on figuring out a more efficient way to navigate through the photos (which is annoying to code to say the least). They should be up by week-end.

    AUTHOR’S NOTE: As some of you might recall from earlier posts, my blog has been getting spammed by such cool places as “pokeronline” and “king4u”. While it started off as a mere annoyance, it turns out that those spammers finally met sometime last week and had lots of baby spammers who are now pelting me also. So it was either receive 100 comments a day from “domx35” and “mikeyonline” or rewrite some code to block them. Soooooooooo, what does that mean? That means that for those of you who want to leave a comment, you now need to register with Typekey to do it (i.e., I can't write code to save my life). Refresh the site once you log in, and voila -- you're on your way to snarky commenting. Besides, if you’re technically saavy enough to leave a comment on a blog, then you can fill out the form. Really.

    Friday, December 30, 2005

    Dress Like It's Your Last Day

    It’s one of my coworkers’ last days here. And for her last day, she chose to wear...a sweatsuit. That's right. You heard me. RED. VELVET. SWEATSUIT. Part of me wishes I have the guts to wear something like that on my last day. There’s something utterly awesome about not caring enough to dress in socially appropriate attire. A full-on fashion disaster cocktail. 2 parts confidence, 3 parts craziness, and a splash of alcohol from lunch, poured over a whole lot of "I don’t care because I’m moving to Florida in a week with my boyfriend." Shaken. Not stirred.

    Part of me just feels bad. Whatever the case, it was awesome to see. If it weren’t for my 0.00000003 megapixel phone camera taking ridiculously blurry pics, you’d be right there with me (pic looks like a giant red blob). Got to get a new phone.

    Looking forward to 2006, I think. Headed to Corduroy with some friends for New Year’s Eve, and then spending New Years Day watching and wishing for a Redskins win and playoff birth. Yes, I know. I’m a little late in the wishing department. Christmas has already past. But quite frankly, I could use another gift or two. After all, it was my birthday. And the Xbox 360 and plasma are on back order.

    Monday, December 12, 2005

    The Fellowship of the Ring

    It’s not that I have nothing to say.

    Far from it, there are hundreds of threads I’d like to unwind. For those of you who know me, you know I’m a talker. But for those of you who really know me, you know I’m much more of a thinker. And sometimes, the two don’t willingly go hand in hand. Especially, when you’re grappling with the enormous changes that marriage brings.

    Of the many questions that I have gotten since I’ve been back, the most common one has been, “What’s the hardest thing to adjust to now that you’re married?” They expect to hear comments like, “I can’t play the Xbox whenever I want to”, or “I don’t have any time to myself.” But while it’s easy to talk about all of the typical things you might observe in the first couple of weeks, the thing that has been most difficult to adjust to is actually something much more simple and mundane – wearing a ring.

    I should first off say this – I am not a jewelry kind of guy. I actually lost 3 watches in a month when I was in junior high school (including one extra-fancy watch with electronic games built into it (I kid you not)), and never put one on again. So it goes without saying that rings are not my style. They always seemed too expensive and gaudy. In fact, truth be told, I wasn’t really looking forward to wearing one. You wouldn’t have caught me trying it on before the wedding and looking at myself in the mirror.

    The first thing that I noticed after wearing a ring for a day was how heavy it was. When I spoke with my jeweler about what my wedding band should look like, I gave him only two words. Simple. Platinum. I picked out my ring after being at the store for less than 5 minutes. There was something utterly comfortable with the concept of a ring being both simple and extravagant. But truthfully, I wasn't ready for the weight of it.

    The second thing I noticed was that while it was a perfect circle, my finger was not. The ring is tight in some places, loose in others. It feels weird. Foreign. Depending on the time of day, it can feel downright constricting. So much so that I find myself taking it off often, if even for a minute. In fact, as I type this, the ring is sitting beside the keyboard on my desk. Not because I don’t like it, but because it still feels funny on my hand. And while I refuse to believe that this small fact can be extrapolated into some broader, categorical statement about being married, I can’t help but see some similarities. In a sense, marriage feels funny to me.

    Still, when I remark to married people that the ring feels a bit uncomfortable on my finger, they all say the same thing.

    "It takes a while to get used to it."

    Interesting.

    Several of my friends have told me about newer, more comfortable wedding bands. One of them wants a ring made out of tungsten carbide because it can be sterilized (he’s a doctor). Another told me about wedding bands made out of titanium that are so light, you can barely feel them. All things being equal though, I think I’ll stick with the one I have. Because in the end, if nothing else, I think I want to feel the ring. I want to feel its weight, reminding me that I made promises. For richer or poorer. In sickness and in health. Promises that are just as weighty. Promises I fully intend to keep.

    AUTHOR’S NOTE: Thanks to my blog getting out into the general public and being found by a large number of spamming sites, I am now being forced to approve comments before they are published. So feel free to leave as many comments as you’d like. I’ll get to them, I promise.

    Thursday, November 17, 2005

    Three Feet From the Door

    I have come to find that at the end of the road...at the end of this road, there are no more answers. At least not now. Less than a week two days before I get married, and I feel no different. There is nothing new to stumble upon. No rocks to uncover. No overwhelming emotion. And I still have questions. Questions that can only be answered by doing. I can not make my home in this walled-off ivory tower. There is no academia in love. And while I have worked through enough over the past 10 years to earn a doctorate degree, I am no closer to solving the theory of why some things happen and other things do not.

    Not that I thought it would be any different. But in some weird way...I thought I might be. For once, I thought that I wouldn't have to find myself caught at the last stitch of a daydream, and wondering after all that, how I had gotten there. Wondering how my mind wandered far past the roadsigns and highways of conventional political and moral correctness and into the deep, dark forest of otherness. The mind is funny sometimes. Just not "ha ha" funny...

    So here's my great insight. The sum of my 33 years of hopes and of dreams, of past loves and disappointments, all rolled into one sentence. It is this: As happy as I am, I will never get to where I want to be. At least not in this lifetime. Truthfully, for those of you who ever wanted to know, that is where the name of this blog comes from. It comes from the fact that I am constantly three feet away from where I want to be (wherever that is). That's the funny (or sad) thing really -- I'm not sure where THAT is. And I suppose that makes sense, when you think about it. Wasn't it C.S. Lewis who once said, "If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world"?

    But maybe that's my problem. I am seeing this as the end of the road, and not the beginning. Maybe "Three Feet From the Door" actually means that I'm getting closer, not farther away. And in some strange way, that gives me great hope and optimism.

    So what does it look like -- being three feet through the door? Ask me in a couple weeks. Pics and words (and maybe a newly designed website) then. Next time I write, I'll be married. Wish me luck.

    Three Feet From the Door

    I have come to find that at the end of the road...at the end of this road, there are no more answers. At least not now. Less than a week two days before I get married, and I feel no different. There is nothing new to stumble upon. No rocks to uncover. No overwhelming emotion. And I still have questions. Questions that can only be answered by doing. I can not make my home in this walled-off ivory tower. There is no academia in love. And while I have worked through enough over the past 10 years to earn a doctorate degree, I am no closer to solving the theory of why some things happen and other things do not.

    Not that I thought it would be any different. But in some weird way...I thought I might be. For once, I thought that I wouldn't have to find myself caught at the last stitch of a daydream, and wondering after all that, how I had gotten there. Wondering how my mind wandered far past the roadsigns and highways of conventional political and moral correctness and into the deep, dark forest of otherness. The mind is funny sometimes. Just not "ha ha" funny...

    So here's my great insight. The sum of my 33 years of hopes and of dreams, of past loves and disappointments, all rolled into one sentence. It is this: As happy as I am, I will never get to where I want to be. At least not in this lifetime. Truthfully, for those of you who ever wanted to know, that is where the name of this blog comes from. It comes from the fact that I am constantly three feet away from where I want to be (wherever that is). That's the funny (or sad) thing really -- I'm not sure where THAT is. And I suppose that makes sense, when you think about it. Wasn't it C.S. Lewis who once said, "If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world"?

    But maybe that's my problem. I am seeing this as the end of the road, and not the beginning. Maybe "Three Feet From the Door" actually means that I'm getting closer, not farther away. And in some strange way, that gives me great hope and optimism.

    So what does it look like -- being three feet through the door? Ask me in a couple weeks. Pics and words (and maybe a newly designed website) then. Next time I write, I'll be married. Wish me luck.

    Wednesday, November 09, 2005

    Still a While to Go

    I couldn't be busier right now. Between all the errands and last-minute details. And it's a shame too, because I think I've been thinking about more stuff in the past couple weeks than ever before. I need to write this down, because I get the feeling that I'll never feel this way again. This weird mix of confusion, happiness, fear. It's palpable. I can't believe it's almost here. Everything is being framed in terms of pre-marriage and post-marriage. It's the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. And it's blinding me.

    10 days to go. It's both the longest and shortest wait I've ever had. More later, hopefully.

    Thursday, October 20, 2005

    A Good Night Spent

    I have to say, the only thing better than going to the U2 concert was enjoying the concert from the Comcast box/club seats. Well...I suppose I could have met Bono. I'm sure I'd ask him all sorts of stupid questions. Like what was up with Edge and his skullcap? I mean, when's the last time he took it off? 2000? On second thought, maybe it was better I didn't meet him.

    I did, however, get a copy of the setlist. And some shrimp and peanuts. All in all, a great night.

    Monday, October 10, 2005

    Souvenirs and Storage Rooms

    This past weekend, I spent a lot of time cleaning out my storage room. Tucked away behind a non-descript door in my basement, was a large room littered with boxes, knick-knacks, and pretty much everything you’d think a storage closet would have. You name it, I’ve got it. Probably a dozen of them. All from 1990. Mounds of tape cassettes (I kept the Def Leppard tape) and Sony Walkmans. Reams of personalized office stationary. Green and blue rugby shirts. Old bottles of wine that have long since turned into vinegar. And boxes of law school notes and papers that quite frankly, I don’t ever want to see again.

    I also ran across a lot of memories, as I expected. Old job offer letters, diplomas and bar certifications commemorating where I’ve been and showing the potential I had. Boxes of email. Old sentimental items too. Gifts. Notes. Commonplace things that brought back vivid stories when the world didn’t look quite so complicated. I found myself wanting to hold on to most of it, rationalizing why I’d need my old law school term paper on cyberbanking and the future of electronic commerce. Or trying to figure out why I could care so much about an old set of ticket stubs. I spent most of the night grasping each piece in my hand and attempting to divine its meaning, remembering why it was I kept it in the first place.

    In then end though, I think these kinds of souvenirs are deceptive. They are dangerous because they speak to you in present tense. They tell you what once was, in the freshest and most brutal detail. They take you back to the moment, and confuse what you had with what you have. And their stories come across with powerful and staggering clarity. If you’re not careful, you’d almost be fooled into thinking that they still convey real feeling. Truth is, it’s hard to let them go.

    But as much as I am tempted to keep my eyes closed, I remember that I am no longer in the business of holding onto old memories. So I’ve packed my old letters away. I’ve bundled up all of the email. And I’ve pitched most of the souvenirs. I’ve done it for the sake of the future, and for the sake of getting over the past. And as I sat down, tired from hauling everything upstairs and out of my house, I realized that there is no clearer sign that I am moving into a different phase of my life, than the huge pile of trash sitting outside my house on the curb.

    It doesn’t mean I won’t miss what I’ve thrown away from time to time. Truth be told, I’m tempted to go back now before the trash collectors come tomorrow morning and root through it all one last time. But in the empty space of my storage room, new things are coming. New old memories. Dusty keepsakes as old as my fourth-grade basketball trophy and all of my swimming ribbons. And those memories...those memories are the souvenirs that I’ll hang on to.

    Tuesday, October 04, 2005

    Running Towards the Sun

    This is the week. Every year, once in the fall, once in the spring, there is a span of one or two weeks where the weather is just perfect. And this past week was it. The weekend couldn’t have been better weather-wise. 70s. Clear. Cool. Almost picture perfect. Of course, I spent Saturday on a service project picking up dime bags (did you know they come in all sorts of colors?) at an elementary school in the inner city of Baltimore. Seriously…an elementary school. There’s something horribly disturbing about that. Still, I was happy to help refurbish the place. All I’m saying is that I could have done without the drug paraphernalia.

    I’m taking tomorrow off to play at a golf charity event. It’s great timing, because recently I’ve been tempted to take some time off to enjoy the weather. I’ve been so busy lately, that I thought a sunny day would be great to help me breathe and gain some perspective on what’s been happening lately. I was recently reminded by a friend of mine in San Diego that it was sunny and beautiful there all year round, and that I could get all the perspective I wanted over there. I admit, I can’t argue with him.

    In fact, on my way back from work last week, I wondered if my life would have been different if I lived somewhere else. If I’d work out more often and take longer walks, or if I would be the same kind of worker, just in a different place. If I’d ever get tired of sunny days. And while I catch myself sometimes wondering if I wouldn’t be happier swinging on a hammock somewhere in Monterey, I’m looking forward to the cooler breezes of fall. Seasons are strange like that. They remind you that change happens. And that everything – including people, given enough time, change too.

    Wedding planning is dominating my life, as it always does. Invitations went out, and I’m ironing out last-minute details of the honeymoon, which continue to wrinkle like a wet Brooks Brothers pinpoint. I'm also ditching the wedding website because I just don't have enough time to put it together the way I want. And in the end, I suppose, that’s fine with me. There’s just too much to do. Besides, I’m running out of sunny days.

    Thursday, August 11, 2005

    100 Days

    So I just looked at the calendar, and I found out that I have 100 days left. 100 days until my wedding. I can't believe it's coming up so fast. I'm having trouble catching my breath.

    I'd be lying if I said this has been an easy process. On the contrary, it's been a grind making all of these ridiculous decisions. I'm learning more about a person in a few months than I have in the past 6 years. More than anything, though, I suppose I'm learning a lot about myself. About how fiercely independent I am. How selfish I can be. And how I deal with conflict.

    Truth be told, sometimes, it's hard not to feel like you're Indiana Jones being chased by that huge boulder after stealing that golden idol. After all, I have been single for 33 years. A partner at my law firm half-joked that the whole wedding planning process is a way for the guy to understand and prepare for the crushing truth that he will eventually lose all autonomy. Then again, he's on his second marriage, so I'm not really looking to him for advice...

    Maybe it's this wedding planning. It's unrelenting. Every day, there are more decisions to make. 3-tiered cake or 4-tiered cake. Buttercream or Almond. Or lemon. Tenderloin or beef tips. Stand up or sit down. Flowers. Photography. Order of service. Sparklers or bubbles. I'm literally going crazy. And for a guy who has a hard time making decisions and spending money, it's a recipe for disaster.

    At least this week off has been nice. Played golf yesterday and today, trying to enjoy my last moments of vacation before I start a new job. And I'm getting my money's worth out of Netflix. So I got that going for me...

    100 days to go and counting. Yikes.