My dog Pavo weighs 8 lbs and could probably be carried in a handbag, if I were the sort of person who carried a handbag. Though I bought him from the humane society, he is what would be decidedly called a designer dog. He is a chi weenie, a genetically altered creature bred, for God knows what reason, to combine the traits of a Chihuahua and a Dachshund.
He is the sort of dog who turns heads at the park and regularly elicits squeals from little girls who exclaim “Oh he’s so cute.” Though he would fit in a handbag and could wear a hand knit sweater, my guess is that he would jump out of the hand bag and chew the sweater yarn until he threw it up.
He is from the part of the dog world that conjures images of gourmet dog food eaten in crystal dishes at the dining room table. Yet, if I let him, my dog would spend the entire day obsessively licking the place where his testicles used to be.
Yesterday I caught my fancy, designer dog eating the remnants of my wife’s lunch from the garbage can. Last week he attempted to eat his own vomit and he enjoys nothing more than a good pissing contest with his best friend, a pit bull 10 times his size. Poor Pavo always loses.
When he meets another dog in the park he barks and then sniffs butts. When given a chance he will happily chase the neighbors cat. He is 8lbs, but 8lbs of pure, unadulterated dog.
Growing up we always had big dogs, breeds like German Shepherds or Black Labs. I was hesitant to bring a fancy little dog into my home. I thought, what will the neighbors think? When I walk him, me 6’1, 225lbs, I worry about eliciting strange looks from people who might think to rob me because, surely a man with an 8lb dog couldn’t possibly defend himself. Then I look at Pavo. I see him beg for food at the table. I see him bravely chase the neighbor’s 16lb cat. I hear him bark with excitement when he sees a squirrel.
When I come home and he runs, tail wagging, to greet me, I forget for a moment that he is an 8lb designer dog. I forget the images of Paris Hilton strolling through the airport with her handbag accessory dog. I smile. My dog, all 8lbs, is always happy to see me. He is the most uncomplicated relationship I have in my life. On bad days he is my sanity. He is a dog. A creature who, regardless of his size, would be perfectly happy to spend all day rolling around in the mud and eating grass.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Friday, July 1, 2011
Life beyond the Lockout; Man up and support the WNBA
With the threat of lockout looming in both the NFL and NBA, it is no wonder that sports fans everywhere are considering prescriptions for Xanax. However, we needn’t look to medication to calm our building anxiety. If you are like me, a professional sports fan who thinks baseball is boring and is not satisfied with collegiate offerings on ESPN 27, I have a solution for you. It’s called the WNBA.
There is an unfortunate and all too common perception that the WNBA is boring, slow and lacking in highlights worthy of primetime coverage on Sports Center
While the WNBA may lack some of the showboating and Blake Griffinesque dunks over a brand new Kia, the game is comparable if not better in multiple ways.
The ladies of the WNBA are equally capable of draining eye dropping 3’s, setting screens and scraping the floor for a loose ball. Their passing game often surpasses even the most seasoned of the NBA’s floor generals and they do it all for far less money than even the lowest paid NBA player.
The current highest paid player in the WNBA is Lauren Jackson, 2 time league MVP for the Seattle Storm. The current highest paid player for the NBA is Kobe Bryant, whose team was swept in the 2nd round of the playoffs. Kobe Bryant brings in an eye dropping $24,806,250.00, not including endorsements. Jackson
While Jackson
As a dedicated basketball fan I generally shy away from the temptation to call NBA players spoiled, overpaid cry babies. However at some point it is up to fans to come together and demand accountable from the leagues that we support with our money, time and energy. Perhaps with lockouts looming in the NFL and NBA, it is time to come together and say enough is enough.
Regardless of whether or not there is an NBA lockout, I will remain a rabid basketball fan. My love for the game is unsinkable. What is uncertain is how my loyalty to the professional branch of Men’s basketball may change. Either way, I remain comforted to know that there is a professional league out there whose players play with a passion and love for the game that is unquestionable. This league just happens to be the WNBA, a league composed of people who do not share my gender. I am fine with that difference and I hope that more men will discover that there is life out there beyond the lockout.
Friday, June 24, 2011
The Evolution of Ron Artest
NBA player Ron Artest recently announced that he will change his name to Metta World Peace. His revelation has been hailed by some as an arrogant publicity ploy. Others say it is just another in a string of bizarre actions by one the NBA’s most erratic figures.
Artest, despite being among the NBA’s best defenders in the post, is probably best remembered for his role in the much hyped 2004 fight between the Detroit Pistons and Indiana Pacers.
Following the fight, Artest received and served a 1 year suspension from the NBA. Since that time Artest has remained an emotional player who plays with a passion for the game that sometimes seems to transcend reason. Yet these levels of emotion, these occasional lapses in emotional regulation are some of the things that make Ron Artest so endearing.
What Artest proves time and again is that, if he is nothing else, he is a real person. He is a flawed person who, unlike some of his teammates, allows his cracks to show.
Artest is not from a privileged background; he grew up on violent streets in parts of New York
I applaud Artest’s willingness to emphasize world peace in such a fallable and human way. Even more I applaud his consistent efforts to advocate on behalf the mentally ill and to use his celebrity to be more than a false, exaggerated stereotype of a spoiled NBA thug. Whatever name Artest chooses, he remains a growing and evolving individual who deserves consideration as a whole person and not simply a caricature.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Worried about the end of the world? Try jogging
Some people believe that the world is going to end tomorrow. Others believe it will happen in 2012. If I were a Las Vegas odds-maker I would give equal weight to everyday between today and the actual end of the world, whenever that may happen.
Last year I decided to stop watching movies about the end of the world. I made this decision after watching the film "The Road" based upon the Cormac McCarthy book of the same name and my vote for the most depressing and hopeless film I have ever had the displeasure of watching.
If and when the end of the world comes; be it through rapture, disease, environmental disaster, a super volcano or a zombie attack, I have no control over any of these things. My current moratorium on post apocalyptic films (unless they are funny-see Zombieland), is about my desire to no longer "entertain" myself by watching things that upset my fragile psyche.
The end of the world has been predicted more times than Bill Gates has dollars. I imagine that if we were to take a survey of end of the world predictions these would correspond to at least one prediction everyday for the whole of history.
Some people look for evidence that the world is going to end. Some look to the Bible: plagues, wars, rumors of wars. There is not a time in history when a plague of some kind has not been present. There has not been a moment in time when a war was not being fought somewhere over something. Other people look to present natural or man-made disasters; earthquakes, volcanoes. A simple read of history book tells us that earthquakes, volcanoes and other natural disaster have been present throughout history, ever heard of Mt. Vesuvius?
Some people, like Pat Robertson, see the hand of God in every disaster, calling it divine punishment for the wickedness of man. Other's see natural and man made disasters as evidence that there is no God at all. I prefer to believe that, in a world with so many natural and man made disasters, the fact that any of us make it a day is evidence of God.
While the question of God's existence and involvement in the daily operations of planet Earth will, without doubt, be debated until the end of time, the one thing that I am certain of is that what I have control over in this world is a very small postage stamp on a very large envelope.
I had a friend who spent most of his time reading about the end of the world. When he read the Bible he only read Revelations. When he watched television he only watched shows about various forms of catastrophic doom and gloom. When he got on the internet he only read various conspiracy theories about how the governments of the world have created diseases.
While my former friend is perhaps an extreme case, he is indicative of many of us. While he read, he neglected his body through a lack of exercise. While he watched TV, he popped potato chips in his mouth. While he read the internet, he smoked cigarettes. If I were a gambling man, I would bet that he will eventually die not in a nuclear holocaust or super volcano, but by heart disease or cancer. My suggestion to him, take up jogging.
So while the world may end tomorrow, or in a billion years. What remains true and timeless is that we only have control over what we can control. We only have influence over what we can influence. If you are concerned about environmental disaster, recycle. If you are concerned about a zombie attack, take up running.
I leave you with this final thought. Q: What has killed more people than all of the wars in history combined? A: The lowly mosquito. Yes, the truth is, no matter what we do, the mosquito wins in the end. Somehow I find that thought comforting.
Last year I decided to stop watching movies about the end of the world. I made this decision after watching the film "The Road" based upon the Cormac McCarthy book of the same name and my vote for the most depressing and hopeless film I have ever had the displeasure of watching.
If and when the end of the world comes; be it through rapture, disease, environmental disaster, a super volcano or a zombie attack, I have no control over any of these things. My current moratorium on post apocalyptic films (unless they are funny-see Zombieland), is about my desire to no longer "entertain" myself by watching things that upset my fragile psyche.
The end of the world has been predicted more times than Bill Gates has dollars. I imagine that if we were to take a survey of end of the world predictions these would correspond to at least one prediction everyday for the whole of history.
Some people look for evidence that the world is going to end. Some look to the Bible: plagues, wars, rumors of wars. There is not a time in history when a plague of some kind has not been present. There has not been a moment in time when a war was not being fought somewhere over something. Other people look to present natural or man-made disasters; earthquakes, volcanoes. A simple read of history book tells us that earthquakes, volcanoes and other natural disaster have been present throughout history, ever heard of Mt. Vesuvius?
Some people, like Pat Robertson, see the hand of God in every disaster, calling it divine punishment for the wickedness of man. Other's see natural and man made disasters as evidence that there is no God at all. I prefer to believe that, in a world with so many natural and man made disasters, the fact that any of us make it a day is evidence of God.
While the question of God's existence and involvement in the daily operations of planet Earth will, without doubt, be debated until the end of time, the one thing that I am certain of is that what I have control over in this world is a very small postage stamp on a very large envelope.
I had a friend who spent most of his time reading about the end of the world. When he read the Bible he only read Revelations. When he watched television he only watched shows about various forms of catastrophic doom and gloom. When he got on the internet he only read various conspiracy theories about how the governments of the world have created diseases.
While my former friend is perhaps an extreme case, he is indicative of many of us. While he read, he neglected his body through a lack of exercise. While he watched TV, he popped potato chips in his mouth. While he read the internet, he smoked cigarettes. If I were a gambling man, I would bet that he will eventually die not in a nuclear holocaust or super volcano, but by heart disease or cancer. My suggestion to him, take up jogging.
So while the world may end tomorrow, or in a billion years. What remains true and timeless is that we only have control over what we can control. We only have influence over what we can influence. If you are concerned about environmental disaster, recycle. If you are concerned about a zombie attack, take up running.
I leave you with this final thought. Q: What has killed more people than all of the wars in history combined? A: The lowly mosquito. Yes, the truth is, no matter what we do, the mosquito wins in the end. Somehow I find that thought comforting.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
An Amicable End to My Life Long Love Affair With the "F" Word
I have come to a point in my life where I give more thought to how my words and action impact others, especially younger people. There is one word in particular that has taken up much of this thought. That one word, versatile, expressive, dirty and pretty all in the same breathe. I am talking about the "F" word, a word so sensational that I dare not type it in long form.
I can't quite put my finger on when my love for the "F" word began. The best I can do is point to a scene from the 80's film Coming to America in which Clarence the Barber, after becoming indignant to learn that his friends do not believe Joe Lewis is indeed 137 years old, turns to them and says "F you, F you and F you, who's next?"
In short time I became enthralled with the "F" word, especially when used as a progressive adjective and most definitely when combined with the word mother. I fell in love with the words versatility and ability to express raw emotion in simple terms.
To me the "F" word has been like music. It enhances sentences and adds needed color to each phrase. Things just began to sound better when the "F" word was added, particularly when inserted into the middle of a phrase. Good morning became Good "F'ing" Morning, Happy Birthday became Happy "F'ing Birthday and for added benefit Merry Christmas became Merry "Mother F'ing" Christmas.
I became so in love with the word that I waited through the whole of Snakes on a Plane, a truly awful film but with a brilliantly simple title, just to hear Samuel L Jackson utter the words like only he can, "That's it, I've had enough of these mother F'n snakes on this mother f''n plane.
As much as I grew to love the word, my relationship has always been infused with a great sense of unease. I am not ignorant to the dark connotative history of the word. I am not blind to the knowledge that the word is deeply offensive to many people. Most of all, I do not some day want to hear a child yell in anger "F you," and know that it is because of me.
While my long love affair with the "F" word has been sweet at times, I don't want it to become my legacy. I am not naive enough to think that continuing to use the word in any form passes the simple test of kindergarten logic. Telling children "Don't F'ing cuss" is simply illogical. Character is not communicated by telling others "Do as I say, not as I do." It is shown through action and passed on through the words we use.
So to you "F" word. It's been real. I am sure I will see you in films and hear you on the street but you are no longer a part of me. We shall have the same relationship that I have with cigarettes. You are now part of my past. A part that I deeply appreciate for what it was, but one that I recognize, at least metaphorically, may have been killing me in some small way.
I can't quite put my finger on when my love for the "F" word began. The best I can do is point to a scene from the 80's film Coming to America in which Clarence the Barber, after becoming indignant to learn that his friends do not believe Joe Lewis is indeed 137 years old, turns to them and says "F you, F you and F you, who's next?"
In short time I became enthralled with the "F" word, especially when used as a progressive adjective and most definitely when combined with the word mother. I fell in love with the words versatility and ability to express raw emotion in simple terms.
To me the "F" word has been like music. It enhances sentences and adds needed color to each phrase. Things just began to sound better when the "F" word was added, particularly when inserted into the middle of a phrase. Good morning became Good "F'ing" Morning, Happy Birthday became Happy "F'ing Birthday and for added benefit Merry Christmas became Merry "Mother F'ing" Christmas.
I became so in love with the word that I waited through the whole of Snakes on a Plane, a truly awful film but with a brilliantly simple title, just to hear Samuel L Jackson utter the words like only he can, "That's it, I've had enough of these mother F'n snakes on this mother f''n plane.
As much as I grew to love the word, my relationship has always been infused with a great sense of unease. I am not ignorant to the dark connotative history of the word. I am not blind to the knowledge that the word is deeply offensive to many people. Most of all, I do not some day want to hear a child yell in anger "F you," and know that it is because of me.
While my long love affair with the "F" word has been sweet at times, I don't want it to become my legacy. I am not naive enough to think that continuing to use the word in any form passes the simple test of kindergarten logic. Telling children "Don't F'ing cuss" is simply illogical. Character is not communicated by telling others "Do as I say, not as I do." It is shown through action and passed on through the words we use.
So to you "F" word. It's been real. I am sure I will see you in films and hear you on the street but you are no longer a part of me. We shall have the same relationship that I have with cigarettes. You are now part of my past. A part that I deeply appreciate for what it was, but one that I recognize, at least metaphorically, may have been killing me in some small way.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
My feets is too fat for Nikes: Making the perfect running playlist
In my humble opinion, finding the right music is as essential to running as finding the right pair of shoes. My recommendation, by the way, is NuBalance, because my feets is too fat for Nikes.
The process of finding the right play list for a run has taken, much like the process of finding the right shoes, a bit of trial and error, minus the shin splints. I can best describe this process by comparing it to the plight of Goldielocks in the 3 bears saga. Some songs are too slow, some are too fast and some as just right.
When I first began looking for music I thought, the faster the better. This reasoning, although somewhat logical, ended with me being winded and downtrodden after only a couple of miles. I now shy away from anything too fast. Dance music is mostly out of the question. While some songs might be good for the club, they are bad for the treadmill, case in point Bombs over Baghdad by Outkast, a great song, but my vote for worst fast paced running song.
Choosing songs from the slow end of the spectrum might seem strange. However there is a certain logic to it. Slower songs tend to be more even tempo and can help keep a nice even pace over a long distance run. However it is best to shy away from songs that are too slow or a play list of only slower songs. One night I decided to try an all gospel hymn run. How could you go wrong with exercise and Jesus, right? After a mile or so I nearly fell off the treadmill. My vote for worst slow song, Swing Low Sweet Chariot.
So how, you ask, did I find my baby bear? Balance is the key. Songs that have have differing tempos are perfect. Songs that start out slow and get faster can give you great energy. Mixing slower tempo songs with a consistent rhythm and faster songs with a great beat can keep you motivated.
So what, you may wonder, is my perfect mix? Well, it is ever-evolving, but right now it is a mix of melodic alternative rock and mid tempo hip hop. I am always open to suggestions, but here is my current mix.
"Club Can't Handle Me Right Now (Flo Rida), "Sweet Disposition (The Temper Trap), "F You (CeeLo Green), "Blood Buzz Ohio" (The National), "Runaway" (Kanye West), "Right Above It" (Lil Wayne and Drake), "All the Right Moves" (One Republic), "Crazy (Gnarles Barkley), "Drop the World" (Lil Wayne and Eminem), "Dynamite" (Taio Cruz), "Human" (The Killers), "Mama Said Knock You Out" (LL Cool J), "Paper Planes" (MIA), "Pumped Up Kick" (Foster the People), "Ridin Solo" (Jason DeRulo), "Virtual Insanity" (Jamiroquai), "We Used to Wait" (Arcade Fire), "Lose Yourself" (Eminem).
The process of finding the right play list for a run has taken, much like the process of finding the right shoes, a bit of trial and error, minus the shin splints. I can best describe this process by comparing it to the plight of Goldielocks in the 3 bears saga. Some songs are too slow, some are too fast and some as just right.
When I first began looking for music I thought, the faster the better. This reasoning, although somewhat logical, ended with me being winded and downtrodden after only a couple of miles. I now shy away from anything too fast. Dance music is mostly out of the question. While some songs might be good for the club, they are bad for the treadmill, case in point Bombs over Baghdad by Outkast, a great song, but my vote for worst fast paced running song.
Choosing songs from the slow end of the spectrum might seem strange. However there is a certain logic to it. Slower songs tend to be more even tempo and can help keep a nice even pace over a long distance run. However it is best to shy away from songs that are too slow or a play list of only slower songs. One night I decided to try an all gospel hymn run. How could you go wrong with exercise and Jesus, right? After a mile or so I nearly fell off the treadmill. My vote for worst slow song, Swing Low Sweet Chariot.
So how, you ask, did I find my baby bear? Balance is the key. Songs that have have differing tempos are perfect. Songs that start out slow and get faster can give you great energy. Mixing slower tempo songs with a consistent rhythm and faster songs with a great beat can keep you motivated.
So what, you may wonder, is my perfect mix? Well, it is ever-evolving, but right now it is a mix of melodic alternative rock and mid tempo hip hop. I am always open to suggestions, but here is my current mix.
"Club Can't Handle Me Right Now (Flo Rida), "Sweet Disposition (The Temper Trap), "F You (CeeLo Green), "Blood Buzz Ohio" (The National), "Runaway" (Kanye West), "Right Above It" (Lil Wayne and Drake), "All the Right Moves" (One Republic), "Crazy (Gnarles Barkley), "Drop the World" (Lil Wayne and Eminem), "Dynamite" (Taio Cruz), "Human" (The Killers), "Mama Said Knock You Out" (LL Cool J), "Paper Planes" (MIA), "Pumped Up Kick" (Foster the People), "Ridin Solo" (Jason DeRulo), "Virtual Insanity" (Jamiroquai), "We Used to Wait" (Arcade Fire), "Lose Yourself" (Eminem).
Is Eating Cake Before Running a Good Idea
Though it may be a stretch to call myself an athlete, I love to run. I began my life as a runner 5 years ago and haven't looked back since.
The first time I ran I made it 1/2 a block and suffered shin splints. Later I made a mile and celebrated with a slice of carrot cake. I was in the process of losing weight at the time, running was in line with this goal, carrot cake was not. This led me to believe that eating carrot cake before running was a great idea. This led me to a stomach ache and the conclusion that eating carrot cake before a run is a very, very bad idea.
My problem with running has been that I am never satisfied with the run. I seek to run farther, faster, steeper. This quest to run steeper hills, along with a pronounced lack of calcium from the debilitating condition known as lactose intolerance, led my bones to weaken. This led to me breaking my ankle.
Breaking my ankle was devastating. I couldn't walk for months, I couldn't run for almost a year. What I learned from that experience was that running up hills at fast speeds is a bad idea, taking calcium supplements is a good idea and that calcium supplements can be constipating.
My ankle has never been the same and has led to a recurring hip injury. Having a hip injury leads me to wonder, who gets a hip injury? I had previously thought a hip injury was an ailment reserved only for say, my grandmother.
The last 2 years has been a cycle of running and injury. I am not sure that running is good for me over the long run. Perhaps it isn't good for anyone. In fact I am pretty sure it isn't. Maybe I should stop running? I won't, not yet. Today I did yoga for the first time. Pat Robertson says that yoga is demonic, after doing yoga I agree. I am more sore than when I run. I didn't do yoga to get my mind in touch with my body or to get realign my chacras. I did yoga so I can prolong my running, um career, and reduce the risk of future injuries.
If anyone has any suggestions for alternative exercise let me know. Just don't suggest biking. I know I live in Portland, but I hate bikes. If you are thinking about running as an activity my suggestion is go for it and get a good music mix. More on that to come.
"I always loved running...it was something you could do by yourself, and under your own power. You could go in any direction, fast or slow as you wanted, fighting the wind if you felt like it, seeking out new sights just on the strength of your feet and the courage of your lungs." - Jesse Owens
The first time I ran I made it 1/2 a block and suffered shin splints. Later I made a mile and celebrated with a slice of carrot cake. I was in the process of losing weight at the time, running was in line with this goal, carrot cake was not. This led me to believe that eating carrot cake before running was a great idea. This led me to a stomach ache and the conclusion that eating carrot cake before a run is a very, very bad idea.
My problem with running has been that I am never satisfied with the run. I seek to run farther, faster, steeper. This quest to run steeper hills, along with a pronounced lack of calcium from the debilitating condition known as lactose intolerance, led my bones to weaken. This led to me breaking my ankle.
Breaking my ankle was devastating. I couldn't walk for months, I couldn't run for almost a year. What I learned from that experience was that running up hills at fast speeds is a bad idea, taking calcium supplements is a good idea and that calcium supplements can be constipating.
My ankle has never been the same and has led to a recurring hip injury. Having a hip injury leads me to wonder, who gets a hip injury? I had previously thought a hip injury was an ailment reserved only for say, my grandmother.
The last 2 years has been a cycle of running and injury. I am not sure that running is good for me over the long run. Perhaps it isn't good for anyone. In fact I am pretty sure it isn't. Maybe I should stop running? I won't, not yet. Today I did yoga for the first time. Pat Robertson says that yoga is demonic, after doing yoga I agree. I am more sore than when I run. I didn't do yoga to get my mind in touch with my body or to get realign my chacras. I did yoga so I can prolong my running, um career, and reduce the risk of future injuries.
If anyone has any suggestions for alternative exercise let me know. Just don't suggest biking. I know I live in Portland, but I hate bikes. If you are thinking about running as an activity my suggestion is go for it and get a good music mix. More on that to come.
"I always loved running...it was something you could do by yourself, and under your own power. You could go in any direction, fast or slow as you wanted, fighting the wind if you felt like it, seeking out new sights just on the strength of your feet and the courage of your lungs." - Jesse Owens
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