I've never done this before, but a friend of mine has convinced me to promote an upcoming single. When a band I've been following for a long time finally begins to find success, I feel proud of them. It's almost like seeing someone in my family accomplish something spectacular, in that I've seen all the efforts made behind the scenes. I've seen them work hard for something that was never guaranteed. And at some point in time, everyone else acknowledges and appreciates what I had seen coming for a long time.
I've followed Switchfoot since I heard my freshmen roommate playing their music on our stereo 4 years ago. Now a cd they released over a year ago has approached mainstream success. The opening track "Meant to Live" remained a solid Top 10 alternative hit for a few months and recently has experienced some Top 40 airplay. It's the upcoming single, however, that I hope makes it big. It's my favorite Switchfoot song, a song I put on a compilation disc in summer 2001. So when Switchfoot releases their new single "Dare you to Move" in March, listen to it, love it, and get it knocking people like Kelis off the charts.
Thursday, February 26, 2004
Wednesday, February 25, 2004
$pring Break
Before this morning, this is how the itinerary of Spring Break 04 looked:
Sunday, March 7: Drive to Tampa
Monday: Fly to Vegas, win money
Tuesday: Keep winning until the end
Friday: Fly back to Tampa
Saturday, March 13: Return to Gainesville
One letter and five hours of work later, here's my new Spring Break 04:
Friday, March 5: Bum a ride to Pensacola
Saturday: Fly to New York
Monday, March 8: Interview with St. John's, Fly to Vegas
Tuesday: Arrive in Vegas, win money
Wednesday: Kepp winning until the end
Friday: Fly to Tampa
Saturday, March 13: Bum a ride to Gainesville
Sunday, March 7: Drive to Tampa
Monday: Fly to Vegas, win money
Tuesday: Keep winning until the end
Friday: Fly back to Tampa
Saturday, March 13: Return to Gainesville
One letter and five hours of work later, here's my new Spring Break 04:
Friday, March 5: Bum a ride to Pensacola
Saturday: Fly to New York
Monday, March 8: Interview with St. John's, Fly to Vegas
Tuesday: Arrive in Vegas, win money
Wednesday: Kepp winning until the end
Friday: Fly to Tampa
Saturday, March 13: Bum a ride to Gainesville
Election Games
We had reached the student plaza, overflowing with party boosters campaigning for the big student election. This is where we were to go our separate ways. She smiles and says bye, and at that moment I open my mouth, ready to tell her that I'd like to see her outside of school boundaries, and time has come to get her phone number. But I wasn't wearing an "I voted" sticker yet, and before the words can escape my mouth, the Innovate Presidential Candidate taps me and asks me if I've voted. I'm walking toward my voting booth, I say. Without my personal guarantee that I'd vote for his Innovate party, he proceeds to go through his platform, a platform I had heard many times, a platform I needed no further explanation of.
She, with her "I voted" sticker on display, laughs at my predicament, wishes me luck, and runs off. Walking toward the voting booth, I had been on the fence over which party to vote for, slightly leaning toward Innovate's rival, Access, but knowing that I wouldn't fully decide until the ballot was in my hand and I went with my gut. I was seriously considering voting for Innovate. But after this encounter, I promptly went upstairs, got my ballot, rushed to the booth, and darkly marked my votes for the Access Party, because they don't step in on a guy's game.
She, with her "I voted" sticker on display, laughs at my predicament, wishes me luck, and runs off. Walking toward the voting booth, I had been on the fence over which party to vote for, slightly leaning toward Innovate's rival, Access, but knowing that I wouldn't fully decide until the ballot was in my hand and I went with my gut. I was seriously considering voting for Innovate. But after this encounter, I promptly went upstairs, got my ballot, rushed to the booth, and darkly marked my votes for the Access Party, because they don't step in on a guy's game.
Sunday, February 22, 2004
Weekend Highlights
1) Bowling on 3 different occasions, left with a jammed middle finger
2) Dave celebrating his bowling strikes by screaming "Internet tips!" because he googled "bowling tips" online beforehand
3) Racing down curvaceous Surge Road in Jamey's 1984 Civic
4) Seeing the guy I assisted in a car accident was recovering and out of his neck brace
5) Cleaning my room to where I can finally see my floor again
6) Figuring out a second word in Britney's new video "Toxic" (the first word was "toxic")
7) Almost walking over a dead dog
8) Running 3 miles and tripping over a sign on the way home (I saw the dead dog again, incidentally)
9) New invention: Beer float (Black & tan with Peanut butter cup ice cream)
10) Having a girl find it charming when I said, "Make me some pancakes, bitch!"
11) Discovering Ed Harcourt
12) Drunken walk to Bennigan's at midnight
13) The FSU joke on The Simpsons!
2) Dave celebrating his bowling strikes by screaming "Internet tips!" because he googled "bowling tips" online beforehand
3) Racing down curvaceous Surge Road in Jamey's 1984 Civic
4) Seeing the guy I assisted in a car accident was recovering and out of his neck brace
5) Cleaning my room to where I can finally see my floor again
6) Figuring out a second word in Britney's new video "Toxic" (the first word was "toxic")
7) Almost walking over a dead dog
8) Running 3 miles and tripping over a sign on the way home (I saw the dead dog again, incidentally)
9) New invention: Beer float (Black & tan with Peanut butter cup ice cream)
10) Having a girl find it charming when I said, "Make me some pancakes, bitch!"
11) Discovering Ed Harcourt
12) Drunken walk to Bennigan's at midnight
13) The FSU joke on The Simpsons!
Thursday, February 19, 2004
Like a Nine-Year-Old's Birthday Party
The story goes that two roommates went bowling one night. They made a pact to maximize their mediocre bowling talents by setting a goal for combined score. If the sum of their scores reached 250 points, a mere average of 125 per person, they would commence with a preplanned ritual. In the event that they did not meet their set criteria, however, no celebration would take place, and they would merely return home defeated.
The two roommates rooted each other on throughout the game, but they struggled to follow a common plan. When one went hot with strikes, the other would cool with splits. Nevertheless, their combined score of the first game was exactly 250 points. As one roommate cooled his sore finger among the vapors from the vents, the other proposed that they engage in another game. With zeal, the roommate convinced the other to risk the celebration and enter into another game, with the same 250-point criteria.
The flow of the second game shockingly resembled the first, with neither roommate maintaining a stable streak of bowling excellence. In the final frame, Roommate #1 brushed off his first throw of a 1, and knocked down the remaining nine pins. To the alarm of Roommate #2, the scoreboard contradicted what actually happened, recording a game-over 8. After some persuasion, the lady bowling attendant amended the scoring error, allowing the first roommate to knock an additional nine pins down on his final throw and bringing his score to 125.
Roommate number 2 entered the final frame with a 107, eighteen points away from the threshold for jubilation. He stretched to the side, alleviating his sore ass muscle. After another visit to the vapors, he threw his 13-pound bowling ball toward the pins, knocking down 8 in the process. He needed to hit the remaining two pins, or any hopes for celebration would be forever abandoned in the alley. He succeeded by completing the spare, leaving him with one final throw, eight pins needed for a score of 125.
He knocked down eight pins with his final throw. Both roommates ended the game with scores of 125, which added up to a total of 250, exactly 250. With their goal met for a second time, the roommates made arrangements to celebrate their achievement. They returned to their apartment, drank malt beverages, ate a single Reese's peanut butter cup, and watched American Idol.
The two roommates rooted each other on throughout the game, but they struggled to follow a common plan. When one went hot with strikes, the other would cool with splits. Nevertheless, their combined score of the first game was exactly 250 points. As one roommate cooled his sore finger among the vapors from the vents, the other proposed that they engage in another game. With zeal, the roommate convinced the other to risk the celebration and enter into another game, with the same 250-point criteria.
The flow of the second game shockingly resembled the first, with neither roommate maintaining a stable streak of bowling excellence. In the final frame, Roommate #1 brushed off his first throw of a 1, and knocked down the remaining nine pins. To the alarm of Roommate #2, the scoreboard contradicted what actually happened, recording a game-over 8. After some persuasion, the lady bowling attendant amended the scoring error, allowing the first roommate to knock an additional nine pins down on his final throw and bringing his score to 125.
Roommate number 2 entered the final frame with a 107, eighteen points away from the threshold for jubilation. He stretched to the side, alleviating his sore ass muscle. After another visit to the vapors, he threw his 13-pound bowling ball toward the pins, knocking down 8 in the process. He needed to hit the remaining two pins, or any hopes for celebration would be forever abandoned in the alley. He succeeded by completing the spare, leaving him with one final throw, eight pins needed for a score of 125.
He knocked down eight pins with his final throw. Both roommates ended the game with scores of 125, which added up to a total of 250, exactly 250. With their goal met for a second time, the roommates made arrangements to celebrate their achievement. They returned to their apartment, drank malt beverages, ate a single Reese's peanut butter cup, and watched American Idol.
Saturday, February 14, 2004
Life is like a box of Russell Stover
Whatever you call February 14, whether Cupid's arrow has hit you in the heart on Valentine's Day or in the ass on Singles Awareness Day, you can't ignore the rolling around of Valentine's Day. It never fails to exist and provides a boom to the chocolates, floral, and shotgun businesses. You either love someone or hate love, and those feelings are brought to attention once a year, February 14.
I'm actually indifferent about Valentine's Day this year. Last year reminded me of the year before, my only Valentine's Day with someone I truly loved. It was a Friday, which meant that I went to class with girls carrying roses and balloons, every couple discussing their plans-- I vividly remember an Asian couple mention McDonald's. I even had to help my roommate make last-second plans; he was clueless on his first Valentine's Day with a girlfriend. I was on the phone making dinner reservations, looking for cheap roses, all for another couple, reminding me that I had no one to call mine.
Today has been a blur of a Valentine's Day. I have yet to take a shower and still permeate an odor of Arturo Fuente stogies. I've slept all but about 4 hours of the day, my body attempting to recover from last night'sand this morning's festivities. Lovefest was my Valentine's. It was a hell of a party, though its potential was somewhat damaged by an early visit from the boys in blue (Lovefest resumed after a one-hour hiatus). I was surrounded by countless spectators and beautiful people, but more importantly, I was with a few hometown boys who I've gradually realized would do almost anything for me.
It will always be that camaraderie that makes Lovefest 2 one of my most unforgettable college experiences, because the fact of the matter is there were spots where I felt uncomfortable and out of my niche. Parties like Lovefest give me moments of fire and exhilaration, but I'm not in my comfort zone. Whenever I'd see one of my friends in the beginning stages of a hookup, part of me would envy them, the part that wishes I were more spontaneous, less reserved, and more risk-taking. But that's not who I am. In the end, I was content to get a couple of kisses on the cheek and didn't expect anything more. People, situations, and dates on the calendar don't compel me to pretend to be something I'm not.
I didn't go out of my way to make plans with the opposite sex on Valentine's Day. I've always felt the day was more reserved for true romance and genuine feelings. I'm still tired and dirty, most likely destined to have a quiet night in my apartment. I am content to leave this night to the couples out there, particularly the ones who sometimes take for granted that love is one of the most unexplainable but marvelous phenomena known to man.
Happy Valentine's Day, and goodnight.
I'm actually indifferent about Valentine's Day this year. Last year reminded me of the year before, my only Valentine's Day with someone I truly loved. It was a Friday, which meant that I went to class with girls carrying roses and balloons, every couple discussing their plans-- I vividly remember an Asian couple mention McDonald's. I even had to help my roommate make last-second plans; he was clueless on his first Valentine's Day with a girlfriend. I was on the phone making dinner reservations, looking for cheap roses, all for another couple, reminding me that I had no one to call mine.
Today has been a blur of a Valentine's Day. I have yet to take a shower and still permeate an odor of Arturo Fuente stogies. I've slept all but about 4 hours of the day, my body attempting to recover from last night's
It will always be that camaraderie that makes Lovefest 2 one of my most unforgettable college experiences, because the fact of the matter is there were spots where I felt uncomfortable and out of my niche. Parties like Lovefest give me moments of fire and exhilaration, but I'm not in my comfort zone. Whenever I'd see one of my friends in the beginning stages of a hookup, part of me would envy them, the part that wishes I were more spontaneous, less reserved, and more risk-taking. But that's not who I am. In the end, I was content to get a couple of kisses on the cheek and didn't expect anything more. People, situations, and dates on the calendar don't compel me to pretend to be something I'm not.
I didn't go out of my way to make plans with the opposite sex on Valentine's Day. I've always felt the day was more reserved for true romance and genuine feelings. I'm still tired and dirty, most likely destined to have a quiet night in my apartment. I am content to leave this night to the couples out there, particularly the ones who sometimes take for granted that love is one of the most unexplainable but marvelous phenomena known to man.
Happy Valentine's Day, and goodnight.
Lovefest 2
One year ago... one party... ruined people's lives!
So goes the legacy of Lovefest, a pre-Valentines bash where the booze, hookups, and memories have no end. This year came the sequel, a party so elaborate it put the standard college kegger to shame. Red and white lighting, bartending, custom-made drink menus, shot glasses made of ice, a champagne room, afterparty Arturo Fuentes... and many cameras. Here are a few stills from my sixteen minutes of sensuous, hilarious, incriminating video footage:
You can find me in da club, bottle fulla Bud...
Jen, Jarrod, and Amber make the sexiest Lovefest Sandwich ever! Which of them was the sexiest component of the sandwich was not the most debated issue at Lovefest, but I'm thinking it should've been.
Jason's mp3 playlist was hooked up to the sound system. His exact words when picking this song: "R. Kelly get the young girls into it." We then proceeded to have a five-minute debate about what constitutes "Old School" rap. Jason won because he's all Westside.
Jen down on her knees in the Champagne Room. Brandon sacrificed his room, his carpet, and his innocence for a champagne room. We thanked him.
I will never forget that Jean Moulin helped lead the Resistance in France, and German Leslie is solely responsible for that knowledge.
Dustin was proud of the fact that these were a size 7, but ashamed that he couldn't figure out how to hold them correctly. Thankfully, a girl who had experience wearing panties showed him the proper positioning.
I was there, and I can say that he was an innocent bystander forced to partake in spilled whipped cream tradition.
It's not a party at the Landings if Jason doesn't berate and disown Frank. At the end of the night, Jason hopped through his living room to U2's "Beautiful Day," celebrating the permanent restraining order he had declared on Frank.
This here, my friends, is the definition of "Money".
So goes the legacy of Lovefest, a pre-Valentines bash where the booze, hookups, and memories have no end. This year came the sequel, a party so elaborate it put the standard college kegger to shame. Red and white lighting, bartending, custom-made drink menus, shot glasses made of ice, a champagne room, afterparty Arturo Fuentes... and many cameras. Here are a few stills from my sixteen minutes of sensuous, hilarious, incriminating video footage:
You can find me in da club, bottle fulla Bud...
Jen, Jarrod, and Amber make the sexiest Lovefest Sandwich ever! Which of them was the sexiest component of the sandwich was not the most debated issue at Lovefest, but I'm thinking it should've been.
Jason's mp3 playlist was hooked up to the sound system. His exact words when picking this song: "R. Kelly get the young girls into it." We then proceeded to have a five-minute debate about what constitutes "Old School" rap. Jason won because he's all Westside.
Jen down on her knees in the Champagne Room. Brandon sacrificed his room, his carpet, and his innocence for a champagne room. We thanked him.
I will never forget that Jean Moulin helped lead the Resistance in France, and German Leslie is solely responsible for that knowledge.
Dustin was proud of the fact that these were a size 7, but ashamed that he couldn't figure out how to hold them correctly. Thankfully, a girl who had experience wearing panties showed him the proper positioning.
I was there, and I can say that he was an innocent bystander forced to partake in spilled whipped cream tradition.
It's not a party at the Landings if Jason doesn't berate and disown Frank. At the end of the night, Jason hopped through his living room to U2's "Beautiful Day," celebrating the permanent restraining order he had declared on Frank.
This here, my friends, is the definition of "Money".
Friday, February 13, 2004
Today's Science Experiment
While doing some last-minute studying for this morning's Behavioral Neuroscience exam, I learned something no book could ever teach me: If you're brushing your teeth and feel the urge to sneeze, rush yourself to the sink, or else you'll end up spewing saliva-diluted toothpaste all over your hand and any object within a 4-foot radius.
Monday, February 09, 2004
Waiting for his Time
Who would have thought that Richard Marx would be making an acceptance speech at the 2004 Grammys? The only thing that could have been better was if he had saved that mullet and given it time for its own acceptance speech.
Wednesday, February 04, 2004
Standard Programming
Where there's no drama, there's no story. Network television is getting prepared for February Sweeps, when everything maniacal and tragic and suspenseful and monumental is written into the tenth-edition scripts. Phoebe is getting married to the guy from Clueless. Regis wants you trying to be a millionaire again. The old vixen from Sex and the City has cancer. ER decided to show you a boob (though those plans are nixed now that "I'm sorry" Ms. Jackson beat NBC to the punch).
It's an effort to attract viewers. People want to see the ends of the dramatic spectrum. We're not interested in the middle, which in actuality makes up 90% of the time for 90% of us. The big suits upstairs fear that we'll grow tired of a flat storyline. Gradual life evolutions don't get ratings, so execs feel compelled to deliver sharp turns and big bangs into their characters' lives.
We've all heard the cliche variety is the spice of life, but what that implies is that all the drama, all the variety... it's just a miniscule coating on a much greater, much more important mass. All the spice in the world can't cover up a poor piece of meat. And accordingly, some of the most splendid pieces of meat need little spice to make them special.
My life is currently, though surely temporarily, absent of drama. Grad school applications have been sent, I'm taking a light courseload, and now I have a rare opportunity to just relax and enjoy my life. I practice my trumpet, play Madden 2004, drink Yuengling, work out, listen to music, and go to usual hangouts with my friends. There's not much to write about, but no matter. My life is good, and for now that'll have to be enough.
It's an effort to attract viewers. People want to see the ends of the dramatic spectrum. We're not interested in the middle, which in actuality makes up 90% of the time for 90% of us. The big suits upstairs fear that we'll grow tired of a flat storyline. Gradual life evolutions don't get ratings, so execs feel compelled to deliver sharp turns and big bangs into their characters' lives.
We've all heard the cliche variety is the spice of life, but what that implies is that all the drama, all the variety... it's just a miniscule coating on a much greater, much more important mass. All the spice in the world can't cover up a poor piece of meat. And accordingly, some of the most splendid pieces of meat need little spice to make them special.
My life is currently, though surely temporarily, absent of drama. Grad school applications have been sent, I'm taking a light courseload, and now I have a rare opportunity to just relax and enjoy my life. I practice my trumpet, play Madden 2004, drink Yuengling, work out, listen to music, and go to usual hangouts with my friends. There's not much to write about, but no matter. My life is good, and for now that'll have to be enough.
Rereleased with Additional Footage
Thanks to a recent trip to Best Buy, here's my new list of my top albums of 2003:
10. Rosie Thomas- Only with Laughter Can you Win
9. Outkast- Speakerboxx/ The Love Below
8. The Raveonettes- Chain Gang of Love
7. Switchfoot- The Beautiful Letdown
6. Over the Rhine- Ohio
5. The White Stripes- Elephant
4. Belle and Sebastian- Dear Catastrophe Waitress
3. The Shins- Chutes too Narrow
2. The Strokes- Room on Fire
1. Rufus Wainwright- Want One
10. Rosie Thomas- Only with Laughter Can you Win
9. Outkast- Speakerboxx/ The Love Below
8. The Raveonettes- Chain Gang of Love
7. Switchfoot- The Beautiful Letdown
6. Over the Rhine- Ohio
5. The White Stripes- Elephant
4. Belle and Sebastian- Dear Catastrophe Waitress
3. The Shins- Chutes too Narrow
2. The Strokes- Room on Fire
1. Rufus Wainwright- Want One
Putting the "Party" in Political Party
If these guys get elected into UF's student government, I'll be able to say that during my first weekend in college, I saw my future president's bare ass... while he was passed out... in his own vomit... on the bathroom tile... nowhere near a toilet.
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