new years and family
i’ve never believed in new years resolutions. well, maybe that one time. but, like everyone else, it lasted about a month. so i gave up a long time ago trying to change my life because the date has changed. what makes january 1 a better day to change my bad habits? why does january 1 think its so special?i stayed up until 7am wednesday night/thursday morning sitting at the hot tub with my sister, back from Boston. aside from discussing our relationship and seeing where we were at, we finished it off with an hour or so of “what IS this life that we think we’re living?” one thing this last year has taught us is that life’s too short to be climbing a ladder. but yet the ladder is what’s handed to you. the game-plan for my life seems to have been created long ago whenever the starter gun for this rat race began. i never chose to join the race. i feel like i got handed the baton.
does that mean that if i find myself in 40 years feeling proud of my 401k and my big yard that i’m a terrible person. i don’t think so. but if i’ve got all that and can’t look back and see that i’ve helped people, then what good is it? and if helping people is something i need to do to feel satisfied with my life in 40 years, then i better get started. i have less time than i think.
Where does Santa live?
OSLO (Reuters) - Father Christmas may live in Iceland — at least if the efficiency of his helpers is a guide — in what may help the island’s drive to win hearts and tourism from Arctic rivals claiming Santa and his reindeer.Only Reykjavik got a reply when Reuters bureaux in all eight nations with Arctic territory wrote to Father Christmas or local gift bringers — ranging from Ded Moroz (Grandfather Frost) in Russia to Julenissen in Norway — asking: ‘Where do you live?’
“Let’s all be good and kind to each other,” he replied in Icelandic, with a link to “www.santaworld.is” which says “from time immemorial Santa Claus has lived at Dimmuborgir,” a remote area of northern Iceland.The reply, aided by the efficiency of a Nordic postal service and Santa’s helpers, might aid Iceland in a battle for hearts and tourist dollars with rival nations claiming Santa.Father Christmas’ home is a source of seasonal tension, especially in the Nordic region where Finland attracts about 500,000 visitors a year to Rovaniemi on the Arctic Circle to visit a jovial white-bearded, red-clad Santa.Finland’s winter success means other Santas feel left out in the cold — at least economically.From Rovaniemi, Santa Claus said the Reuters letter must be among a deluge of 30,000 he received every day. The letters — from Sweden, Finland, Denmark, Iceland, Norway, Canada, the United States and Russia — were all mailed in mid-November.“I live here in Lapland and anybody who doesn’t believe, I wish a warm welcome to come and meet me and see how it is here,” he told Reuters in English, with a faint Finnish accent.”Of course this is the homeland of reindeer, and everyone knows I travel with reindeer,” he said by telephone.In a rare grumble, he said children never doubted that Lapland was his home. “It’s always the media that brings this question up. I have never met a five-year-old who comes here and asks: ‘Am I in the right place?’,” he said.SEASONAL CYNICSSeasonal cynics might suggest that Iceland, with just 250,000 people, has better chances of replying to letters than other countries around the Arctic.”Santa Claus is no longer Norwegian. He’s Finnish,” Norway’s independent TV2 concluded glumly in a recent report. It said the “hordes of tourists” flying in charter planes to Rovaniemi sometimes disrupted air traffic over neighboring Norway.Copenhagen, where many believe Santa lives in the Danish territory of Greenland, has won an extra argument that Father Christmas is Danish by saying last year that it plans to claim the North Pole as part of Danish territory.Many Americans reckon Santa lives at the pole.Finnish Foreign Minister Erkki Tuomioja raised few laughs among his counterparts from the Nordic region and Russia last month when he invited them to a meeting in northern Finland with a joke that it was “close to where Father Christmas lives.”Tuomioja’s joke, at a dinner in the Norwegian Arctic port of Harstad, rubbed in how far Finland has gone in cornering the lucrative Santa market.Santa Claus is derived from St. Nicholas, the patron saint of children who lived in what is now Turkey in the third century A.D. Reuters did not write to him there, reckoning that Santa is too closely associated with reindeer and snow.
kidney shots
so i play indoor soccer. well, kind off. it’s an indoor court, but it’s outdoors. very different than what am i used to (if you call a few years in MS/High School “used to”). so we’re not bad, per se…but we’re cetainly not very good. so considering that fact, and the fact that this is an adult league playing for…well, nothing…you’d think that people would come out to have fun.
why oh why must we all be so psychotic? last week it was guys running me into the boards, this week it was some girl who felt the need to box out on me in goal. finally, i had to start punching her in the back so she’d get out of my way.PEOPLE! just because you got cut from your high school team doesn’t mean this is the place to redeem yourself. your dreams have passed you by. LET IT GO! yes, i suck. i got it. but jeering from the bench? are you serious? what are you trying to prove? and to whom are you trying to prove it? well, needless to say, i apologized to #4 for screaming at her. they can cheat, jeer, and harass the keeper all they want — i’m not going to sink to that level. my screaming was un-called for. the kidney shots, however, were definitely in order.
down there somewhere
sure is a lot of brown land down there in Chiang Rai. strange to see the roads, the cars, even the planes in-flight. kind of feels like you’re spying on someone’s trip.
empty house
so Erin left for Thailand and Cambodia yesterday. we woke up together at 5:30am to get her to the church by 7am. the whole thing was surreal. it didn’t really sink in until 11pm last night. i’m used to laying on the couch waiting for erin to come home from work. but i’m not used to brushing my teeth alone. i know, i know. sounds weird/dumb. it’s just that, for 2 years it’s been the same. and while there are days you wish things wouldn’t be “all the same,” when it comes down to it — i miss “the same.” so, i decided i would read a bit to put myself to sleep.tonight is “better,” but that’s due to two important factors. 1) my sister heather came in tonight from texas. dad and i met her at the airport and then made the required trip to in-n-out. (necessary for any calfornian home-coming) 2) erin called me! i first got a call during the day, but since i was in a meeting and i didn’t realize the number, i didn’t pick it up. but the message was great. (it has not been erased yet). then i got a call around 10p as the team was at the airport preparing to fly out of bangkok. that phone call should get me through a few days.
i know it’s cliche, but you really don’t know what you’ve got ‘till it’s gone.
it's a party (bus)
spent saturday at the USC game (thanks for the seat upgrade, Dan!). got my face fried, but it was worth it. took the “party bus” up there. there’s something mildly disgusting about being offered beer at 8:30am.
(from left) Steve, Mani, myself, Eric. Row 19.
and here’s our “near” run-in with coach Snoop:
thoughts after my brother
got to spend an evening at Penny Lane with my brother. he killed me at darts, so we moved our time outside. discussed life over a Stella, trying to talk over some loud neighbors. good to hear how everyone else is doing…October starts a new season in dealing with our mom being gone. all the dates start adding up. for example: on this date last October, this happened. my brother’s got more date’s remembered than i do — i remember christmas eve the most.
my brother’s very descriptive when he talks. his ability to explain his feelings through metaphors is far superior to mine. he explained his missing mom like a phone that’s off the hook. just that hum…long and continuous. not sharp and piercing…but dull and annoying. i immediately thought of that sound a record player makes once it’s reacher the center of the disc. that repetitive popping and crackling. after i dropped him off at my dad’s, i started thinking about something else he mentioned. something along the lines of: no matter what the reason — even if God himself showed up in our living room and told it to us — it wouldn’t make the loss feel any different. that made me think. i had the mental image of a patient in their hospital bed…not fully aware of what was going on, but being told that to save their life, their arm must be taken. they kick and they scream, but little do they know, the doctor has their best interest in mind. granted, it doesn’t explain away my brother’s comment, but it’s how i think of it. i don’t know why it all happened, but i truly believe that a loving God would not do such a thing if it wasn’t necessary. does that make it all better? hardly. but i’m compelled to find the good of the result.
out early
i knew he didn’t have it. he showed up late, sat down at the table and begged for one more round to re-buy. we allowed him one, and i knew he’d play fast. he’s done it the last few games — trying to take advantage of slower, more cautious players. he raised twice the big blind — i called. i had A-10 offsuit. the flop was 10-7-2…two diamonds. he went all in.now if it were anyone else, i might put them on a flush draw. but mike doesn’t do that. maybe he hit a set, but again, he wouldn’t play that this fast. ah hah! he’s got junk, he’s playing fast, and wants me out. i called. i was right. he turned over 8-3 offsuit. he sighed…”i didn’t want you to call.” “wow,” i though. “doubling up here would be nice. i’d be the chip leader by a LOT.” the next card was a 6. then…you guessed it…a 9. my cousin got two runners to make a straight. i was crippled and went out two hands later (by him).
it happens. came in and watched a movie with the lady, then watched some Milan soccer. before i had called him, i made sure that if i was wrong, it wouldn’t matter to me. i could find something to do. so here i am.i know you’re not supposed to admit defeat before it’s over. but it’s nice to be prepared for it.
bad dreams
what a terrible dream. what’s strange is that i have no idea what sparked it. i played soccer around 8pm…came home, watched some EPL. then when my wife got home, we watched Lost. but that’s it! i woke up with such a terrible feeling in my stomach and couldn’t shake it. i lay in bed, staring at my wife and hoping that what happened in my dream would never really happen. dragged myself out of bed, and to the shower. only once i had successfully reached Starbucks did i finally shake my bad feeling (thank you, Grande coffee). i guess it makes you appreciate what you’ve got. but i sure wish it could be done in a different way. waking up with a feeling of utter destruction and depression — not a good way to start your day.
Hi there, I'm Jon.
Writer. Musician. Adventurer. Nerd.
Purveyor of GIFs and dad jokes.