When Losing Wins

Lauren is a high school swimmer.

She is not just any swimmer, but a freaky fast beast of a swimmer. I have seen actual flames shooting out from her wake in the water.

Youth sports are often filled with peaks and valleys, but I would imagine this young lady has seen more peaks than a Swiss yodeler.  However, for the past three years she has been a state runner-up in the 100 meter backstroke.

Lauren’s senior year brought hopes of finally standing on the top rung of the podium and hearing her name announced as the state champion - a crown she had surely earned after three consecutive second place finishes.

Her starts were lightning fast and she was the epitome of elegance in the water.

Seemingly out of nowhere another girl appeared, a freshman no less, also sporting some very fast times. 

These times didn’t worry Lauren, but she did take notice.

She entered the conference meet with a 58.90, just slightly behind the younger challenger at 57.49.

Lauren turned up the heat and swam a 57.78, but the young freshman swam shortly thereafter turning in a blistering 54.98 to break the existing conference record.  Due to the fact these girls were in different divisions, they would not get to swim head to head the following day in the finals.

Each won their respective divisions with Lauren dropping another 2 seconds to swim a 55.63, but the young gunner answered by swimming a lightning fast 55.21, slightly slower than her previous swim.
Had the freshman peaked too early? Did she have the strength to hold off the surging returning veteran?

The stage had been set for the State Championships one week later.

One week later.

With both girls turning in a 55 and some change during the prelims, it would all come down to the finals and the head to head matchup everyone was anticipating. Lauren felt she was right where she needed to be to finally claim the elusive title.

Lauren looked calm as she adjusted her goggles one last time, slapped her legs, and then stood with her hands on her hips staring at the empty lane in front of her in what would be her final swim of a great high school career. There was D1 university swim scholarship hanging in the balance, so the stakes were high.

They both jumped into the water to take their positions on the wall - Lauren in lane 5 and to her left the top seeded freshman in lane 4.

“Swimmers take your mark”.

The girls coiled, ready for the start horn.

Lauren was first into the water with her trademark fast start, but by the time they emerged a few yards later, the freshman had streamlined herself into a head’s length lead going into the first wall.

On the second 25 yard stretch she opened up a half body length lead, but Lauren remained calm as she was still well within striking distance with the race less than half way complete.

On the third 25 both girls accelerated together and Lauren, despite her best efforts, could not close the gap on the final 25 finishing less than a half second behind the freshman.

I can only imagine what she must have felt…shock…disbelief.

This year, after all, was supposed to be her year. It was supposed to be her turn to finally conquer the event and to finally stand atop the winner’s podium. Instead she would have to watch someone else, for the fourth time, be crowned the winner.

No one in the entire complex would have blamed her if she had felt completely devastated.

No one would have blamed her if she had broken down into tears mourning the loss of another illusive state title.

No one would have blamed her if she had quickly and quietly exited the pool.

However, immediately upon realizing she’d been bested, Lauren swam to the edge of her lane towards the young champ, grabbed her hand, looked her straight into the eyes, and spoke to her for several seconds. While I have no idea what she actually said, it was very clear to all of us that were watching it was much more than the customary “congratulations”, “good race”, or even a “wow, you are fast”.  

 

This young lady, after what had to have been one of the most disappointing moments of her young life in losing the final race of her high school career, pushed aside a devastating loss and instead turned her focus and attention to making sure the new champ was paid the respect she had rightly earned.

By doing so, she also gave us all an amazingly beautiful display of selflessness and sportsmanship by showing us all how to accept defeat with dignity, grace, and humility proving that in sports, and in life, even when we lose we can still win.

 

 

 

Circular Square

Tonight I was wondering how a circular square would differ from a square circle.

This is (perhaps) a bit of a strange and random thought, but I am used to having them so don't worry - all is normal (relatively speaking).

Anyway, I would like you to think about this the next time you think.

Post your comments, observations, and insights here because I can't possibly be the ONLY person who has ever pondered this dilemma.

http://vimeo.com/37468942  Watch this video while you are contemplating...

Update: I think a square circle might look something like this…

Baked Potato in a Steak Dinner

I was recently sitting on a bench in my backyard enjoying the beautiful fall morning.

The sun was low, emphasizing the surface undulations on a rock directly in front of my bench.

I love rocks. I love the texture, the patterns, the colors, and also the fact that they are permanent(ish).

It seems that the fleeting nature of time is a continual theme in my life and they represent something that seems to remain unchanged. I know they do in fact change, but the geological clock ticks slowly from where I sit and it is interesting to think this rock was once a riverbottom.

Slipping on my psychoanylitical beenie I will try answer this - why do I love rocks?

Ahem. Perhaps my fascination with rocks has to do with my subconscious fear of dying before I have a chance to complete some of my (impossible) dreams - write a book, make a movie, go travel Europe again.

I suppose I am envious of a rock's ability to defy the swift passage of time. It can also express its' rockness easily and with confidence.

Well, that was easy.

On a related note:

Why do I love sunlight in the morning?

Ahem. Morning light is the embodiment of hope and new beginnings. It has the power to transform a lawn (full of potenital labor) into an interesting field of color, light, shading, and with a little wind, movement.

Like a ballet of nature. Ick. That phrase sounds canned and stale, but I am afraid is the best I can muster, mister.

...fade in from black...

"What? You missed her?"

"Yes, because she always furnished the mustard. She was the mustard master, or perhaps I should say the Mustard Meister...or perhaps I should say Mustard Meisterin to be grammitically kosher."

"That's why you missed her?"

"Well, we frequented many weenie roasts together. I was ketchup man, or to some, catsup a tree dude, and although I realize we were'nt the main attraction, we were a Team. Weenies just weren't the same without us. We were the KEY ingredients in the condiment train and we always had each others' backs. I dare you to deny the existance of pure elegance and transcendental bliss of that first bite where the ketchup and mustard mix together forming a perfect union and baseline which allows the relish to sneak in unnoticed to add its (over rated) zing! There was nothing more glorious than arriving, a little late, to see the relief of everyone as many of the weenies were reaching that perfect zen state of cooked weeniness. Furrowed eyebrows immediately relaxed, triggering a physiological response that rippled through MY body! If one times it right, the maximum pleasure can be extracted from people walking, almost sprinting, towards you with their faces literally exfoliatng joy and relief...their eyes filled with hunger bordering on lust leading to a truly delicious moment for all!"

"Hmm. Ok, I guess that makes sense....I had a roommate in college who was always the life of the party - extremely charming and popular. Someone asked me once what it was like to be his roommate to which I replied, "It's like being the baked potato in a steak dinner."

 

 

...fade to black.

Destino

Recently my beloved 7d went for a(n unplanned) swim.

This might seem obvious, but (electronic) cameras don't swim particularly well.

They tend to sink - quickly too.

Mine was attached to a tripod, so I was able to retrieve it fairy easily.

Frantic googling.

It seems it needs to dry out before powering ON again per online consensus, but it went in powered ON, so little hope remains.

She now sleeps.  I hope she will awaken.

I remember our times in Shanghai together.

You taught me how to look at things closely and carefully.

You reminded me that life is fleeting.

 

You helped me to try make sense of things I didn't understand.

(Ok, in this case you didn't really help that much.)

You reminded me of how lucky I am in life.

You showed me nice people are everywhere...

...and so is beauty.

In the end, it seems that I have gained much more than I have lost.

This page (almost) intentionally left blank.

(almost)

(Let's play around with that word)

somalt
toalms
so smal (actully no room for second "L") It is currently on loan to a strange museum.
matsol
tat mol (tat of very smal mol(e)) "E" also on loan to same museum.

{ I have been informed that this blog is too abstract and that most people with think it is too "out there". Perhaps it is true, but my response would be...let the abstraction begin :) }

I wonder if all these leftover letters will end up as titles to displays containing all the heads and arms from all the other statues (Thank you Steven Wright) around the world sans appendages.

For example, the arms from this famous statue, the Nike of Semothrake,

...might look something like this:

                                                                       "L,E"
                                        Letters on loan, courtesy of so "smal" & "tat mol"

Goofenhymm Museum of Lost Contemporary Ancient Stuff

This marvelous piece is courtesy of two (bumbling) barbarians (bumblarians?) allegedly removed from the famous Hellenisitc Nike of Semothrake.
It was reported a 24-year old male named NIKOMACHOS (Means "battle of victory" from Greek νικη (nike) "victory" and μαχη (mache) "battle"), along with his sidekick, LINUS (From the Greek name Λινος (Linos) meaning "flax") -not everyone can have a cool name - allegedly tried to remove the statue from the marble bow of the sculpted warship.

Linus tried to back out at the last minute, but was urged forward by NIKOMACHOS as he chanted "JUST DO IT" while snapping his fingers making a checkmark in the air with his candle (which by the way was casting some lovely shadows, acentuating the beautiful face of the statue, causing them to pause and reflect momentarily on the sublime moment) and upon so doing caused LINUS to slip and grab hold of the arm - thereby removing it from the body and simultaneously knocking out Mr. MACHO - stone cold.

Casting a shadow of doubt as to the original meaning behind the Nike, recent dicussion has focused on her overly developed arm muscles sparking debate that she was either a tennis player or a mixed martial artist.

It has been reported that this is the hand from the statue:

This seems to confirm that she was indeed a tennis player and is an ancestor of John McEnroe.

That is all I have to say...almost.

This page intentionally left blank.

NOWordsREquiRED

Congratulations....

.... you have been chosen for Registry of Distinguished Women

Frankly, I am not sure how I managed to pull it off, but I did.

Somehow I did it.

Will a plainly marked van pull into my driveway, out of which 15 to 20 reporters and camera folks will spring and sprint (excitedly yet quietly) up my steps to my front door where they will assemble with great anticipation in hopes of catching a glimpse of the first MAN to be chosen for (silent pause before trumpets blare) THE REGISTRY OF DISTINGUISHED WOMEN?

My quantum leap over The Registry of Non-Distinguished Women and The Distinguished Registry of Women is in itself worthy of inclusion into The Registry of Distinguished Leapers.

Where might the Registry for Distinguished Bloggers fall in this mix?

I think I will be forced to consult The Registry for Distinguished Registries to get that answer.

Stay tuned.

Not Yets

Life is full of not yets*.

What a great phrase - to the point and says everything it needs to say. Goals, intentions, and dreams are fine and dandy but useless and unispirational tucked away in a cranium.

Have you started that novel?

Not yet.

Did you find that acoustic guitar you were thinking about buying?

Not yet.

Did you sign up for that (fill in well-intended class, goal, or dream here)?

Not yet.

Not yet. Not yet.

Too hard. Not practical. Too expensive. No time. No money.

The clock is running.
That's about it.

Are you finished writing this junk?

Not yet.



*The quote came from 78 Reasons Why Your Book May Never Be Published and 14 Reasons Why It Just Might by Pat Walsh

Domestic Affairs Shanghai traffic an embodiment of Chinese logic

Article publised on China Daily Website.
By Jerry Woods (chinadaily.com.cn)

Updated: 2011-07-06 10:35 Comments(25)
It has been said that Henry Ford freed the common man from the limits of his geography.

In the late 1920s to early 1930s, there was a shift in the American psyche when the automobile was no longer considered a luxury but a necessity, as people were willing to sacrifice food, clothing, and savings in exchange for a shiny new piece of the American dream.

Although I don't think this has happened yet in China, in talking with many Chinese I get a very strong sense that for a growing sector of the new middle class, this is starting to emerge.

Using this as a jumping-off point, in my opinion, a 20-minute automobile ride in Shanghai traffic will yield more insights into the Chinese concept of logic than would a weeklong "Introduction to China" class.

From what I have read and observed, Chinese base the concept of logic using personal considerations of circumstances at hand and also take into consideration all kinds of diversity and contradiction - which leads to a more flexible decision-making process.

Trying to explain this to a foreigner can be difficult, but one left-hand turn into oncoming traffic will be a fabulous eye-popping example of the type of flexible decision-making that is appropriate and even "logical".

From my Western point of view, it seems "logical" to wait for the oncoming traffic to pass before trying to turn left, but for a Shanghai driver it is perfectly "logical" to try to beat the oncoming traffic - especially if another vehicle ahead is providing a block and it is possible to slip in behind using them as a shield.

From my Western point of view, it does not seem logical to try pass a slower-moving vehicle on a two-lane road if there is oncoming traffic, but for a Shanghai driver it is perfectly logical to start to pass, as he knows the oncoming traffic will simply swerve, allowing all three vehicles to simultaneously fit into the two-lane space.

This is another (often hair-raising) example of decision-making based on following the rules that are appropriate for the situation at hand - not necessarily on abstract principles considered as absolutes using straight-line thinking based on empirical knowledge from observation and experiments.

Shanghai traffic has been one of my best teachers, as it has prepared me to handle similar business situations where I have found myself trying to solve a problem that, at first glance, does not seem "logical".

In closing, I have a Chinese language book entitled Approaching Chinese - not Mastering Chinese or Learning Chinese or even Understanding Chinese.

The word "approaching" implies I will never ever reach a level that would suggest I was "there" and, like the Shanghai traffic, will never be a static target as it continues to evolve and change.

I have applied this same philosophy in my attempt to understand the amazing Chinese culture, and I accept the fact that I will only be approaching a complete understanding of the assumptions, motivations, and inner workings of the "Chinese mind".

In the meantime, I am content to continue my training from my master, Shanghai Traffic.

STU NNING

AFTER you read this blog, hehe, check out this video:

http://vimeo.com/16369165

Two words. STU NNING.

Well, ok four.

Oops, now ten.

Ten still cannot do this justice (seventeen). My favorite number!

Crap. (Twenty-two.)

Does that count as one word or two? (Thirty-one).

Because if it counts as two words, then the thirty-one above would be inaccurate and before I end this sentence I must decide so I don’t have to continue two separate lines of thought, so I hereby declare by executive decision that a hyphenated word counts as one-and-a-half words , but wait I used another (longer) hyphenated word/phrase so now I must decide on a better rule since obviously not all hyphenated words/phrases have only two parts and (damn it) I have introduced another variable by (stupidly) inserting a “/” when I clearly know better per The Elements of Style by William Strunk Jr. and E.B. White which states that this type of thing “…damages a sentence and often leads to confusion or ambiguity”, so not only is this an incredibly long run-on sentence, but it is now also damaged beyond repair, so I hereby declare by (another) executive decision (thereby nullifying the first) that I will no longer count words nor phrases, but will now count letters, numbers, and symbols - excluding punctuation (nothing personal).

I will get back to you on the letter and symbol count.

After a quick review, I hereby make a third and final executive decision to use an online utility to determine the final word count.

Please direct any questions or comments regarding assumptions in counting or methods to:

http://www.javascriptkit.com/script/script2/countwords.shtml

Sincerely,
Me.

280 (not including this one)

Crap. Add X more (in your head so I don’t have to keep updating this).

Your final number will depend on YOUR assumptions. See not so easy is it??

Now go check out the video.

Judgement Day Rapture! Good News, Bad News

For those of you you who are now reading this I have very very bad news. The Rapture has come and gone and you were not chosen.

You, like myself, are one of the remaining lost souls still standing against the rusty playground chain link fence hoping upon hope, while your fingers turn white from the pressure of your grip on the diamond shaped wire, that your name is about to be called by one of the cool kids as he is assembling his dream team that will go forth and CONQUER ALL WHO ATTEMPT TO STAND IN THEIR WAY!

But alas, all the other kids names have been called: Jonathan, Craig, even Bobby whose left leg is 2 inches shorter than his right leg due to a tractor accident on his Grandpa's farm when he was only four.

Without even calling the last two names, everyone bows their heads and shuffles away quickly stirring up the dust that leaves small lingering clouds,  letting the final two "mercy choices" glance at one another in an unspoken truce and understanding that now their only true quest in life is to never ever be the last one chosen for anything.

No matter what.

At all costs.

"No one will ever not notice me again." 

And so is born another person who will one day exclaim, "Today is Judgement Day!"

...............................................Update 23 May 2011...............................................

It has been leaked by unconfirmed sources that Judgement Day was actually Judge Mint Day, a day for a  contest held by one of the world's largest candy companies - which has requested to remain anonymous.

"It seems this got way out of hand and turned into quite a cluster-hosing", said spokesperson Whylie Wronkuh.

"What was supposed to be a day of extreme-sugar-induced-bouncing-off-the-walls-fun, has unfortunately been turned into a dogmatic spectacle. While the rest of the world is kneeling down in a last minute hedge-your-bets-type-prayer or living it up in one last mind-numbing party, we are having this fabulous mint sampling party to find the next Super Mint."

Whylie, donned in fuzzy kitty slippers and an elegant pearl colored silk bathrobe, offered no further comments as he returned to a long table - covered in a lacy white starched tablecloth - around which sat the 11 other distinguished confectionery judges, hands folded in lap, monogrammed napkins tucked neatly into their neck collars, waiting patiently as the chaotic army of servers descended upon them.

It was reported that the winning mint was "Rapturous Evergreen".







\

warning. disclosure. whatever. smak dab, Dr. Seuss, Norm the frog...it's all here.

Is it weird to put this, "Is it weird to put this smack dab in the middle of this sentence and at the end of this blog?", smack dab in the middle of this sentence and at the end of this blog?

Smack dab, by the way, would be a great name for a band.

Smack dab is also the definition for how to properly administer spread to your bread.

"Hey Jer, do you want any of this worm-ooze on your muffin?"

"Yes! But pleeaaase, smack dab it!"

I was just wondering when the term blog was coined...

(Oh! Also, who coined the phrase "coined"? (To be solved in subsequent post).)

Thanks to bookofjoe, I found this:

"In a 1953 story entitled "Scrambled Eggs Super," Dr. Seuss wrote:

I went for the kind that were mellow and sweet
And the world's sweetest eggs are the eggs of the Kweet
Which is due to those very sweet trout which they eat
And those trout ... well, they're sweet 'cause they only eat Blogs
And Blogs, after all, are the world's sweetest frogs
And the reason they're sweet is, whenever they lunch
It's always the world's sweetest bees that they munch
And the reason no bees can be sweeter than these...
They only eat blossoms off Beezlenut Trees
And those Beezlenut Blossoms are sweeter than sweet
And that's why I nabbed several eggs from the Kweet."

It is hard to know where to jump in on that one, but let's just stick with blogs, which as it turns out, "are the world's sweetest frogs."

In my backyard pond, lives a frog.

His name is Norm - just Norm because a frog doesn't really even need one name, much less two.

Norm was found in my neighbor's mail box.

Opened the mailbox and there he was.

Just sitting there.

Looking out the mailbox.

Probably thinking, "Thank GOD...sure is boring in here."

Either some 8th grade kid is running loose with too much time on his hands or that is one talented frog!

Every morning I rush to the window and look out to see what amazing feat of amazingness he, ahem or she, has accomplished.

Well, it seems I am sexist. I had always assumed Norm was a Norm, but (s)he could actually be a Norma.

Ok, I hereby rename Norm - Norma; however, I forthwith declare the "a" to be silent so as not to affect the pronunciation. I can do that because (s)he is my frog.

I also hereby and forthwith declare the "(s)" in (s)he to also be silent so as not to affect the pronunciation.

This will seems far-fetched, but I actually know someone with a silent "T" in her name.

It isn't hiding at the end or trying to blend with an "h".

Consonant-vowel-consonant, "T", vowel-consonant-vowel.

It is Smak dab in the middle.

In the Clouds

In The Clouds


I am standing at the foot of the Shanghai World Financial Center.

To say the building is tall is like saying the sun is hot or ice is cold and borders on dangerously stupid or stupidly obvious.

My head is tilted so far back that it is resting on the backs of my knees as try determine where the building ends and the sky begins

My brain is sputtering and trying to grasp the appropriate adjective and all I can manage is, "Wow! This is tall."

Perhaps ginormous would have been a better word, but to be honest I am not exactly sure where it fits into the scale of huge, enormous, gigantic, and humongous.

The Spirit of Chinese Moonshine

Note: This article was published, in a slightly modified form, on the Chinese website China Daily.

The original post appears below.

..............................................

My neighbor is at a Ouija and wine party, which is actually a very smart combination. One way or the other spirits will be moving.

Speaking of spirits, I would like to suggest an entry to the "things to do before you die" list.

One word. Six letters, four of which are vowels (which sounds like howls and you'll soon know why).

Baijiu (bye chew, but with a "J") is what I call Chinese Moonshine or Chinese Firewater.

Many refer to it as "White Wine", but it is actually a clear drink distilled from sorgum and is usually about 50-60%  alcohol by volume.

However, the only "Winey" thing about it are the sounds coming from the mouths of the tasters, usually done in combination with facial contortions, involuntary twitching of various body parts, and other sounds never before produced by humans. Wildly flailing arms, like someone who has just been unexpectedly flung from the top of a tall building, is also a fairly common reaction.

I often bring a small bottle to parties as my evening's entertainment. It is the closest to a religious experience some people will ever get and man oh man it is fu-un to watch.

After the initial taste shock, it is almost as fun to watch their eyes roll back into their sockets as they struggle to try find a spot in their now simmering brain that is yet undamaged and can process what has just happened. It is similar to the moment a shark attacks and their eyes disappear to protect them from getting gouged out.

I suggest we harness this power and market it to be sold along side all those things that, as aunt Mildred warned, "can put 'yer eye out".

Little Johnny wants a BB gun?  No, problem, load him and all his buddies up with baijiu, give 'em a pocketful of new shiney BB's, and rest assured they will all emerge at the end of the day with their peepers and their vision intact.

Every now and then someone will take a sip and calmly note, "that's not bad".  I have found those are the types of people I eventually like, i.e., unflinching in the face of brain numbing calamity.

A colleague compared the taste to dirty socks. Eyebrows raised, I was on the verge of asking him to explain exactly how he knew this, but I realized there are some things, like religion and politics, best not discussed at work and besides I don't know if I could ever look at him again the same should he truthfully answer.

Other noteworthy taste comparisons are paint thinner, rubbing alcohol, diesel fuel, swampwater, and other very colorful utterances ejected from the unconscious depths during the eyeball roll back phase (hereby and henceforth from this point forward referred to simply as ERP - yes, I know I left out the "b", but ERBP would be difficult to pronounce).

If you are at a party and see someone who looks like he or she may have just swallowed some glass or just ingested poison and only the whites of their eyes are visible, just realize that although the ERP phase is fairly short, it can be extremely entertaining.

I actually gave my neighbor a bottle of baijiu recently and she mentioned she was going to take it to the Ouija and wine party so it is very possible new words are being invented at this exact moment as the spirit of Chinese Moonshine works its magic.

Cheers, or as they say in China, Gan bei!

"S" to "J" for a Day

(Best if Read OUT LOUD)

I would like to hereby put forth a motion to replace the letter "S" with the letter "J" for one day.

It would look jomething like thij, I juppoje.

Firjt of all, I think we mujt chooje a day.

Tuejday haj a nice ring to it aj doej Thurjday, but I really like the jound of Jaturday the bejt.

"Why..", you ajk, "...jubjtitute the letter "s" with the letter "j"??

The idea jtruck me when my daughter took a jpelling tejt and all her "S's" looked like the letter "J" tarnijhing an otherwije perfect lijt of fifteen wordj beginning with jpider.

Jo, I ajked her what a jpider waj. Jhe paujed and looked at me like I waj nutj.

I perjonally think it ij a great idea.

Lijtening to tongue twijterj like, Jally jells jea jhells by the jeajhore, would be awejome.

Bajeball gamej would be interejting.

From the opening lines of "O-o-h jay can you jee..." to the jeventh inning jtretch, it would be a evening full of ballj, jtrikej, and outj.

Jujt imagine the pojjibilitiej if thij day were to fall on the annual jpelling bee.

"Mijjijjippi...M-i-j-j-i-j-j-i-p-p-i...Mijjijjippi."

Now THAT ij fun to jay.

Life in the Key of A-Minor

I was out on my deck this morning listening to the Bach Violin Concerto No.1 in A minor. 

It has been a long time since I have listened to some Bach. I wasn't doing anything other than listening and enjoying the spring morning and it reminded me that A minor is my favorite key.

I began wondering why.

For me, regardless of the melody there is always a trace of  sadness and a serious, if not poignant, unflinching acknowledgement of life's trajedies expressed in a way that always manages to lift itself up away from despair.

Even when the sadness prevails, it inspires by making me pause to contemplate life's complexities, nuances, and to appreciate that without despair, there can be no joy.

The harder I try to pin it down to understand exactly how and why it does this, the slipperier  and more illusive it becomes which is frustrating and yet at the same time exhilerating and life affirming.