Figuring things out

My time's running out at work, but it still never ceases to amuse me.

With our big redesign coming up in Monday's newspaper, we're starting to discover some things just weren't planned out at well as intended.

I won't go into details, but I will ask this: Why don't people think things through a little bit before they jump into them? Where do you learn these valuable skills?

I don't remember ever learning how to problem solve or plan ahead in high school or college. But I really wish they'd teach some folks how to do that sort of thing.

That's all for today. Now I'm off to Chicago for the weekend for my grandma's big 90th birthday.

Exhaustion

I'm young and stupid. I'm getting older, but I'm not getting any less stupid.

Over the weekend I made a ridulously short trip to Ohio to hunt for apartments. In all, I was in Ohio for about 26 hours. And, being the cheap-skate I am who hates to fly, I drove the eight hours each way. Made me feel like I was living in my car.

That led to about three hours' sleep Friday night and another three hours' sleep Saturday night.

This is where I'm stupid. Funny thing about the body; it needs its rest. I sometimes forget about that. I think I don't. I think I can just push my body as far as it'll go.

Sure enough, on my way back to Ohio, the exhaustion and the boredom of I-70 finally caught up with me. I had to pull off at a rest area and take a quick nap.

You've never lived until you've been sleeping in your car, only to wake up to some little girl asking her mom, "Mommy? Does he live in his car?" And to hear her say, "Maybe."

With any luck, I'll have a physical address soon and won't have to live with my car as a possibility.

Take me home from the ballgame

One of the job hazards in a life of sports is the occasional horrible ballgame.

Tonight I witnessed Harrisonburg's 16-0 win at Woodstock in the Valley Baseball League. Harrisonburg had 16 hits. Every player except one scored in the seventh inning.

I've never been a huge fan of covering baseball anyway. Games like these are why. While baseball can remain quite competitive, it's also one of those sports than a two- or three-score differential is absolutely impossible to overcome.

So coaches coach it differently, basically accepting the loss when the game isn't truly half done. They put in lesser-skilled players, and before you know it, it looks even worse than it could have been if both sides kept trying.

I assure you, the only thing worse than watching a 16-0 game is trying to ask questions about a 16-0 game. A close third would be trying to write that same game in an interesting manner.

Sweet talkers

I'm convinced there are only two times people speak kindly of you while you're around.

One is at your funeral, which doesn't do your ego much good.

The other is when you've turned in your notice at your current employer. This is where it starts to feel more and more like a wake, though.

In each case, one by one, people will file past you to offer their well-wishes for the after-life, albeit in the second case it's the "after-here life." They'll offer praise and compliments and fond wishes they'd never dare share if they were actually going to see you every day.

Kind of makes you wonder why people aren't this kind to one another more often.

By far the best compliment I've heard came from one of my guys, who had applied for my job prior to my arrival and was a little bummed when I started that he didn't get the position. He said he's not interested in taking the job now: "Now that I've seen it done right, I don't think I can do it."

On the darker side, it's almost sad to see how desolate the online ad at JournalismJobs.com was. It doesn't mention that writers from our section received Associated Press Sports Editors honorable mention awards the last two years. Naah, top 10 in the whole country isn't that big of a deal. It doesn't mention that we won best sports section in Virginia for our sized paper this year and finished second last year... when we were forced to move up a class and play with all the mid-sized newspapers.

I know pride won't get you too far in life. But I'd like people to know that this isn't just like every other sports editor's job in the country. This job is special and comes with some good, hard-working people. It's also a job that, if the paper and area somehow moved about seven hours west, I'd never be leaving.

Moving on

Finally... An offer I couldn't refuse.

Tonight I heard back from the good folks at the Delaware (Ohio) Gazette, who were kind enough to offer me a job and bring me back to the great state of Ohio. I said yes and will be going in to work Wednesday to put in my two weeks' notice.

The most popular question seems to be "Why?" It is a smaller newspaper. It is an afternoon newspaper, though, which means the layout takes place during the day instead of night. I'm looking forward to working a schedule that more closely matches the rest of the world. I'm looking forward to living closer to my parents, siblings, nieces and nephews. I'm looking forward to working with my buddy Jeremy again.

I'm excited about the move. There's a lot to do between now and then. My current job will be a little insane between here and there, and it'll take some effort to get far enough ahead there so I can leave without feeling horrible about what I've left behind.

I'm sure I'll feel more sentimental as time goes by, but at this point I'm merely relieved. I've been here two and a half years, plus that year and a half in Georgia. I'm intrigued to see how the state has changed and to get back into that life.

I'm sure I'll be calling and/or e-mailing a number of the folks I know read this with more details as they become available.

On a mission

The joy in owning new technology really shines through when that new technology stops working.
 
My surround-sound system/DVD player/CD player/stereo/sole source of most of my entertainment decided to die sometime over the weekend. It was only 10 months old, and I swear I have a fly in my apartment that lasted longer. It kicked into an annoying cycle of going back and forth between being in standby and turning on, clicking each time the standby light flashed from red to green.
 
I don't exactly like asking for help, so the mission to fix this thing started with a little work at home. I tried everything I could think of, from various button-combination pushes to plugigng it into other outlets to scanning online to see if I could find a similar problem elsewhere.
 
Finally, out of frustration, I went where no Trinko has gone before... the manual. It told me to go another place no Trinko ever dared to go... the 1-800 help line for Philips.
 
The good folks at the Philips support center made sure my trip there was a long, painful, memorable one. I sat on hold for about half an hour. An operator finally picked up the phone and asked these valuable questions:
 
* Is the unit plugged in?
 
* Have you tried plugging it into a different outlet?
 
* Have you unplugged it long enough to reset it?
 
After hearing the appropriate responses to each of these questions, my new friend offered me his expert diagnosis: "It appears your unit is malfunctioning." Which pretty much explains why I called in the first place.
 
Oddly enough, my new friend's computer was unable to find the nearest repair shop for me to get it fixed while it's still under warranty. In a strange bit of luck, all of his listings popped up locations in Ohio, which is not where I live (now). I went online and found the nearest one ot me, in a place called Luray.
 
Luray... is not the kind of place you'd expect to take your electronics to get them fixed. It has something of a roughneck reputation, full of mountain folks who are still learning the modern ways of the 1940s. In the ranking of nearby towns, it generally falls below Front Redneck... err, excuse me, Front Royal.
 
It was also surprising to find that this little town could be the only place nearby that would service it. Not Winchester. Not Harrisonburg. Not Manassas. Luray. Go figure.
 
So began the car trip to Luray, which is about 35 miles and 35 years away from here. It's a long, winding voyage over a mountain, through the woods, to grandmother's shop we go.
 
The kindly old woman who awaited me there must've taken the same class as the guy at the support center. She asked the same questions he did. Then she plugged it into the wall and heard the constant clicking from flipping back and forth between on and standby. She then declared, "It's not working. It appears your unit is malfunctioning."
 
These are the people I'm trusting to fix my audio system.

Music scenes

Tonight I ducked out to my favorite bar in the area, Sweet Caroline's in Winchester. Generally they have bands that play the Blues, which has a certain intrigue to me that I'll try to explain some day when I haven't come home after multiple beers (albeit 1/3 as many as I consumed last Friday).
 
Instead of the Blues I expected to find, a band called "Fatskeys" played. It's like listening to a radio with the Search button stuck. It just kept changing every couple minutes. I half expected to hear a report from NPR for three minutes.
 
You might think I'm exaggerating, which generally I am. But this time around, no. They went from playing a Billy Joel tune to "Brick House." They jumped from Train to playing the theme for "The Jeffersons." It was musically comical, although I got the feeling I'm the only one in the bar who got the joke. It's also possible the band didn't get the joke, but I'd hate to think that.

Anchorman

I've probably seen the commercial for "Anchorman" a hundred times now. Today I finally went to see the movie.
 
Whenever I go to a movie involving a former Saturday Night Live cast member, there's a big worry to consider: Did you see all the funny moments in the movie during the commercials? Can you piece together the clips in the commercial and end up with the movie?
 
Much to my satisfaction, Anchorman doesn't do that. Actually, those cutesy little clips you see in the commercials all seem to appear in the first 30 seconds of the movie. Then there's a whole movie after that.
 
It might not be the funniest movie ever written. It probably doesn't have as many gut-wrenching moments as its earlier Will Ferrell vehicle, "Old School," did. But it was certainly entertaining.
 
What I've noticed since I watched the movie is it's funnier the more I think back to it. There are so many good lines in it, so many good sight gags. You just don't notice them until you have time to think about it or how ridiulous they were.
 
I mean, how often do you see the TV anchors from half a dozen stations, including the PBS and Spanish-language stations, get into a bizarre street brawl? How often do you see someone throw a typewriter at someone else? How often do you hear a man talk to his dog for a while, answering every bark, then have him stop to say, "You know I don't speak Spanish"?
 
Another side-splitting scene is when the four main characters sit in an office, talking about what love is before breaking into "Afternoon Delight." If only I had a dollar for every time my cohorts and I broke into song... But ours would probably be "Swing Low, Sweet Charriot."
 
Incidentally, the absolute best character in this movie is the weather man, who claims at the beginning of the movie he might be retarded and then spends the rest of the movie proving it, right down to the point where he declares his love for a lamp.
 
Sure, this movie isn't Gone With the Wind. But it is amusing, a good way to spend a couple hours and chuckle about everything you saw.  Life needs more simple pleasures.

Waiting

I've never liked waiting. Waiting rooms at the doctor's office... Waiting for Christmas... Waiting tables... It's just not my cup of tea.
 
So this week has been extremely frustrating to me. I know something pertinent to my life is going to happen. I'm pretty sure what my response will be and what will logically follow afterwards. But I can't start knocking over those dominoes until the first thing happens.
 
Here I've sat, all week, waiting for the go-ahead to knock over a few dominoes that I believe will make for a happier life.
 
It's almost funny, now that I think about it. Most people think I'm a very patient man. In truth, I'm quite impatient, especially when it comes to things I want to have happen.
 
Still I wait. Hopefully I won't have to wait much longer.

Fairly Odd Parents

Timmy's dad knocks on the door. He yells out, "I'm respecting your privacy by knocking, but I'm showing my authority as a parent by coming in anyway." Then he busts a door down with something resmembling an old ACME battering ram.

Who said there's nothing good on TV during the day? The "Fairly OddParents" on Nickelodeon are the Looney Tunes of our era. It's a wonderful mix of sight gags, quick-witted dialogue and biting story lines.

The show centers around Timmy, a 10-year-old with well-meaning parents who are fairly busy and self-absorbed too. So he picks up a pair of fairy godparents, Cosmo and Wanda, to help grease the wheels of his childhood. Unfortunately, they tend to mess things up as often as not.

It leads to some pretty humorous stuff. You have Timmy chasing an e-mail through the Internet. You have Cosmo and Wanda on a "Dating Game" show to see if they should stay together when they confuse whether their anniversary is the "Styrofoam Anniversary" or "Fake Fighting Anniversary." You have the two godparents pretending to be human parents when Timmy brings a real dinosaur to school and his parents need to meet with the teacher. [Best sight gag here... Cosmo gets addicted to coffee after just one cup. Take that, Folgers.]

A recent story by the Associated Press on the CNN Web site says the show is the second-highest rated show among children ages 2 to 11. Yet 40 percent of its viewership is older than that. If you ever check it out, you'll know why.

Incidentally, I can finally put a number on just how long it takes me to be cool. I am cool five months after the Associated Press is cool, given they knew about it in February and I'm just discovering the show recently.

In concert

Just got back from seeing the infamous Dave Matthews Band concert at Nissan Pavillion. For those who were desperately worried I'd end up going alone, Tommy from our Sports department came along with me. We had fun.

I've never been to a real concert before. I've been to music festivals and bar shows, but I've never been to a big-stage production like this. What first caught my eye was all that caught my eye. There were so many beautiful young women there who were in my age range. It was as if I'd died and gone to Athens (Ohio).

I felt like a kid in a candy store. And darn, don't I have a sweet tooth these days?

Anyway, the concert overall was fun. Most of the music seemed to be from older releases, which pleased the crowd but disappointed me a bit, since I really love the "Busted Stuff" album. Perhaps it's the disappointed, frustrated tone from an obvious lacking in a social life on that album that resonates with me.

They brought the house down with the encores tonight. I'm sorry for all the people who decided to leave when they walked off the stage... they missed the best part.

Romance filled the air as they belted out "Crush," with its lovey-dovey lyrics such as "Lying under this spell you cast on me" and "I mean to tell you all the things I've been thinking deep inside My friend With each moment I love you more."

The dueling fiddles at the end of this song was the highlight of the whole night. The band's violinist, Boyd Tinsley, is absolutely incredible. It was an atmosphere just built for love, and 5,000 couples seemed to be making out by the end of the song.

"Ants Marching" quickly popped up, sending these couples back into a foot-tapping craze instead of tapping other things for other reasons. Thus ended a potential population boom for D.C., but it left me desperately anxious to see the band again some day.

It really was a wonderful end to a wonderful week's vacation. Now it's back to the working world, with a good chance of shaking up my own snowglobe in the very near future.

Water, water everywhere...

Among my group of friends, a fondness for bodies of water borders on cliche. Nautical themes dominated all through college, what with a friend's bar in the house called "The Sandbar" or the constant playing of Jimmy Buffett wherever you went.

It may be cliche, but it's still true.

There's nothing in the world to set your mind at ease like a body of water. [Well, adding some barley and hoppes to that water can help, but only in the short term.] The sound of waves crashing... the mesmerizing patterns in the water... the stiff breeze felt when traveling by boat... the reflection of a hot sun off a cool lake...

It's a feeling some people understand, and some people don't. I'm half convinced the world's divided into two groups -- those who love the water and those who don't.

It's such a conflicting image, really. Water is so cool and soothing and harmless in some settings, yet it can be this incredibly powerful, destructive force. It can be a means of getting from one place to another, or it can be something that traps you. It can somehow reflect almost any mood you imagine, be it the quiet, serene waters of a babbling brook or the relentless, furious crashing of an angry sea.

Whenever I get on a boat, I like to sit near the front. The less you see of the boat in front of you, the better. As you gaze ahead of you, you lose yourself. For just a moment, you forget you're propelled by a Johnson outboard. You feel like you're simply strolling across the water on your own.

If there's anything better in life, I haven't found it yet.

Mean Girls

I've developed one tradition since I moved away from Ohio. Each year during
my summer trip back, I take my three oldest nieces out for lunch and a
movie. It's a chance for them to hang out with their uncle and a chance for
me to get reacquainted with them a little bit.

These visits get more and more interesting each year. They're all entering
their teen years now, and it's a genuinely intriguing experience to watch
them interact with each other, with me and with the world.

As I watched today, I recalled recently watching the movie "Mean Girls,"
based on a fairly important sociological study of teen interaction and
written by one of my favorite comedic writers, Saturday Night Live's Tina
Fey. Ahh... Tina Fey. But that's a rant for another day.

When I watched that movie in a crowd heavily populated by high school and
junior high girls, I thought about how overblown these criticisms must
really be. After all, why would girls be so judgmental of each other and so
harsh on themselves? What would be the benefit?

After spending a day with three young ladies stepping into this, though, I
have no doubts. I listened to one niece talk about how two girls in her
class had the same swimsuit on at some type of swimming mixer and how much
better the one looked than the other. I heard another talk about the
importance of being liked by people older than she was. In another case,
there was discussion about how helpful it is to know all the latest music
trends, lest you be left out.

It was really an eye-opener for me, seeing these generally level-headed
girls devolve into what's probably common practice in a young girl's life.
I just hope they can make it through junior high and high school without
ever losing their individuality.

And, for that matter, I hope they never outgrow letting their uncle take
them out on the town.

Spidey-sense

The most excited I've been coming out of a movie in the past 10 years was
walking out of Spider-Man a couple years back. I came out of there feeling
like I could shoot webs out of my wrists.

The most emotionally drained I've been coming out of a movie in the past 10
years was walking out of Spider-Man 2 today. I came out of there feeling
like being a superhero might be even harder than being a sports editor at a
small-town newspaper.

These movies continue to reach into my own hopes and fears and pull
something out. A heavy theme in the new one, aside from a lot of amazing
action sequences, is the inability to be what you want to be due to your
own perceived limitations of life.

The beauty of this movie, on the "analyzing it way too deep" end, is an
implied message at the end. If you let the right people into your life,
they'll continue to love you no matter what you have to do.

I still came out of the movie thinking I could sling webs from my wrist. I
didn't make the same "fssshhht" noises I did the last time I saw a
Spider-Man movie, as I was with my dad and didn't want to visit the local
loonie bin.

And as for the other Spidey ability, climing walls? I have a hunch I might
have that by the end of my week in Ohio. I'm quickly reminded that, as much
as I like seeing all the people, there's something to be said for returning
to your own bed each night and not having to pull clothing out of a dufflebag.

Big kids

The visit back home really hit full force today, as I had a chance to see
three branches of the expansive family tree.

Each one left me thinking the same thing... there are reasons I'd like to
return to living and working in Ohio some day.

I don't know what's more touching:

* My niece Katie practically smothered me at church this morning when her
family came into mass. She barely gave me enough room to my side to breath.

* I met my newest niece, Alexis, at her mom and dad's house. There's
nothing like holding a newborn child in the world. I can't even begin to
imagine what it's like when the child's actually yours. She woke up while I
was holding her, looked up at me and sort of gave this look like, "Yeah,
you're OK, even if I don't know you." Of course, at less than a week old.
I'm probably just a huge octagon too, although she won't learn that word
for seven or eight years.

* Her big sister, Shelby, treated me like a jungle gym for most of the
visit when I wasn't holding her little sister. Shelby's sort of married
into the family (not officially yet, but for all practical purposes she
is), but it's really nice in my family that we accept "steps" so well. She
accepts me too, to the tune of about 20 minutes worth of bucking bronco
rides, which involves me on the floor on all fours, bouncing my back up and
down while she tries to stay on. It's great fun for everyone except my back.

* I taught my niece Cassie how to throw a spiral with a football. I don't
know why she wanted to know, but it's one of the few things athletically I
can share with the world, so I was game. We played for a long time.

A lot of times when I come home, I'm overcome by the sheer numbers of
people involved in my rather large family. Today was nice, since it was
broken down by branches of the family tree. These are the more tender
moments, the ones that make you realize family is a very, very good thing
to have.

Stupid hijacking

Twice in the last month, my web browser has been "hijacked."

For those of you lucky enough to never have this happen, a hijacking is when your home page changes or favorites are added without your permission. This happens when you end up on a Web site with absolutely no ethics whatsoever. Then, before you know it, you have shortcuts for Golden Casino and other such nonsense all over your computer.

The one I hit yesterday was particularly frustrating. It changed my home page, and every time I reboot the computer, it resets back to what it wants the home page to be. That's really irritating in this case, since the page wants you to install a bunch of software and won't take no for an answer.

I still haven't fixed it, although I did have the sense to create a shortcut to my home page of choice (http://news.google.com) and put it where my regular Internet Explorer button was.

I just have to wonder what kind of marketing strategy this is for Web sites. The closest comparison I can think of is watching TV. You turn on the TV and flip it to your favorite show. Then someone else in the room changes the channel with another remote to a different show. You flip back. They change it again.

At what point are you just going to say, "Well, that's what they want me to watch, so I'll watch it"?

Or are you going to get beligerant, go over there and smack the other person around?

So if anyone knows who came up with this method of forcing us onto certain Web sites, warn them. I'm looking for them, and I'm bringing my circuitboard knuckles.