Rantings of the Last Skysurfer

Campus Carry

2010-05-05T21:49:00.001-07:00

I've started a blog dedicated to the issue of licensed concealed carry (of handguns) on college campuses. The address is CampusCarry.com. Now, I won't have to post "guns on campus" news here on my personal blog.

Wedding Photos

2009-11-28T04:55:00.000-08:00

HERE are Anna's and my wedding photos.

Anna cropped some of the photos to show better when viewed on a computer screen, so if you're trying to order a print and having trouble with the cropping, check to see if the original, uncropped picture is posted HERE.

You can buy a photo book of the wedding photos HERE.

HERE are the honeymoon photos.

Here is a short video of Anna rappelling down a waterfall:

Healthcare Reform

2009-11-08T12:32:00.000-08:00

In the great healthcare debate currently reverberating throughout the hallowed halls of our nation’s Capitol and throughout our living rooms, offices, and Facebook pages, we are constantly reminded that more than half of all bankruptcies are the result of unpaid medical bills and that approximately one and a half million Americans lose their homes every year because they can’t afford their medical expenses. We’re told that 64.4 million Americans under the age of 65 spend more than ten percent of their income on healthcare, and we’re led to believe that only a complete retooling of America’s healthcare system can right these wrongs. But 64.4 million is only about 20% of Americans. Only one half of one percent of Americans will lose their homes due to insurmountable medical bills, in any given year, and only one tenth of one percent of all Americans will be forced into bankruptcy. Isn’t there some way to help these people, without bankrupting our nation trying to provide complete medical coverage to every man, woman, boy, and girl in the United States?

I’m neither an economist nor a healthcare professional, and I certainly haven’t followed the healthcare debate as closely as many others have, but I can’t help but think that, in our nation’s rush to divide along polarized party lines, there must be at least one or two viable options we’ve ignored. A recent study by the Labor Department found that the average American consumer spends 5.7% of his or her paycheck on healthcare (one third what the average consumer spends on transportation). And it seems reasonable to assume that the average consumer isn’t bankrupted by those costs and won't lose his or her home. So why couldn’t the government implement healthcare reform specifically designed to help people who spend more than a certain percentage of their annual income (perhaps based on a person’s tax bracket) on healthcare?

Essentially, what I’m suggesting is that—rather than paying for every man, woman, boy, and girl in the United States of America to run to the doctor and then the pharmacy every time they get the sniffles—the U.S. government look into adopting affordable major medical coverage as the public option. This could provide not only an option for people who can’t afford full coverage and don’t want to see their lives ruined by medical bills; it could also provide an option for employers who can’t afford to offer full coverage to their employees.

By offering this coverage as both a standalone health insurance plan and as a supplement to private health insurance, the government would allow private insurance companies to offer cheaper coverage to people who already have the government major medical plan. For example, a person earning $30,000 a year might be covered, under the subsidized government plan, for any treatments or procedures costing more than $3,000 in a given year. And that person could still purchase private health insurance (at a significantly lower rate than currently available) to help cover expenses that fall below that $3,000 government deductible.

It’s clearly not a perfect or fully thought out plan, but I think it has potential. Yes, it would still result in a significant burden on the U.S. government, but that burden would likely be tens or hundreds of billions of dollars less than the plan currently before Congress.

My Op-Ed In the Fort Worth Star-Telegram

2009-08-22T16:46:00.001-07:00

This is several months old, but I just got around to posting it:

http://www.douva.com/sccc/fwst_oped.pdf

Concealed Carry is Allowed in the Texas Capitol

2009-04-30T13:52:00.001-07:00

Some opponents of the legalization of concealed carry on Texas college campuses have argued that concealed carry is restricted at the Texas Capitol and that legislators who support concealed carry on campus clearly want a double standard for themselves.

In truth, the only place in the Texas Capitol where concealed carry is restricted is in the viewing galleries of the House and Senate, when the House and Senate are convened (per Texas Penal Code §30.06[e], §46.035[c], and §46.035[i]). During those times, those two small balconies are secured with metal detectors and armed state troopers.

In a February 17, 2009, interview with News 8 Austin, Rep. Charlie Geren, Chairman of the House Administration Committee—the committee charged with overseeing security measures in the House gallery—explained the presence of the metal detectors, which were installed at the beginning of the 2009 legislative session, by stating, "The big challenge for DPS is not protecting against someone with a handgun; it's someone who comes in and wants to blow people up."

Legislators with concealed-handgun licenses are still allowed to carry concealed handguns on the floors of the House and Senate, and the metal detectors securing the galleries are turned off as soon as the bodies adjourn each day.

Concealed carry is always allowed throughout the rest of the Capitol, including in the committee chamber where the Texas House Committee on Public Safety held the March 30, 2009, public hearing on Texas House Bill 1893, a bill aimed at legalizing concealed carry on Texas college campuses.

In fact, Texas legislators aren’t even allowed to restrict concealed carry in their own Capitol offices. Therefore, it’s more than a little unfair to suggest that they’re looking to require anything of public colleges that they don’t already require of themselves.

It is simply not reasonable to compare an open college campus the size of a small city to an easily secured area, like a balcony, where metal detectors can ensure that the area is gun free in more than name only, and where visitors are never out of the sight of armed state troopers.

Rep. Geren ended the February 17 interview by stating, “"I'm thinking [the metal detectors] will probably be there until the end of session, and then we will relook at the policy.”

Debunking ABC's 20/20 Episode "If I Only Had a Gun"

2009-04-11T10:47:00.000-07:00

The April 10, 2009, episode of ABC’s 20/20, titled “If I Only Had a Gun," features a demonstration/experiment intended to show the improbability of a civilian with a concealed handgun stopping a mass shooting.

The most obvious shortcoming of the 20/20 demonstration/experiment is that it focused on a quick draw scenario in a small, single classroom, not a protracted massacre spread over multiple rooms, as was the case at Virginia Tech, Columbine, the recent civic center shooting in Binghamton, NY, etc. Even the NIU shooting took place in a large hall full of hundreds of students and lasted 2-3 minutes.

The demonstration/experiment was clearly designed to promote the argument that mass shootings happen too fast for individuals with concealed handguns to respond. Proponents of this position ignore the fact that at least one surviving victim of the Virginia Tech massacre spent five minutes talking to a 911 operator on her cell phone and listening to gunshots getting closer, before being shot by the gunman. She survived, but her professor and ten of her classmates lost their lives. Proponents of this position also ignore the fact that surviving victims of both the Virginia Tech and NIU shootings hid under their desks and watched the gunmen reload. It's hard to believe that students and faculty members who had time to dial 911 and/or who had a window of opportunity while the gunmen reloaded would not have had time to draw a concealed handgun, take aim, and fire.

A more subtle problem with the experiment is that the test subjects used concealed holsters to which they were introduced only a couple of hours earlier. And they had their vision and dexterity limited by paintball helmets and gloves. It takes a lot of practice to draw from a concealed holster, even without those inhibitors.

A third, much more egregious problem with the staged scenario is that the individual who played the gunman was a HIGHLY trained individual who not only knew there was an armed “student” in the room but also knew WHICH student had a concealed handgun and WHERE he or she would be sitting. Pitting a firearms instructor who has undergone years of training, who knows the scenario is staged and therefore isn't suffering from the same debilitating effects of adrenaline that a real gunman would experience, and who knows the location and identity of his only armed opposition is not a realistic simulation of a typical multiple victim shooting scenario.

Finally, in the episode’s analysis of the demonstration/experiment, the hosts play up the fact that one of the subjects “came close” to shooting a fellow classmate who ran in front of her while she was firing; however, the show never directly addresses the fact that none of the subjects actually shot any innocent bystanders. None of the scenario outcomes were made worse by the presence of one civilian with a concealed handgun. And no mention is made of the fact that the student running through the middle of the classroom would have been an easy target for the gunman, had the gunman not been facing armed resistance.

The fact that the scenario was set up as a quick draw test, the fact that the demonstration utilized concealed holsters with which the subjects were not intimately familiar, and the fact that the gunman had the distinct advantage of knowing both when and where he would face armed resistance completely discredits this demonstration/experiment as an accurate examination of whether or not a concealed handgun license holder could stop a mass shooting. The experiment might have gained a bit of credibility if it had included among the test subjects one or two licensed civilians who carry concealed handguns on a daily basis.

Instead, many aspects of the experiment just come across as silly. For example, it's difficult to fault someone who thinks he’s in a handgun training class for not immediately responding to a surprise attack perpetrated by an outsider who enters the class wearing full paintball gear, especially while the entire class is, coincidentally, also wearing full paintball gear. It's safe to say the test subjects might have had good reason to suspect that the shooting wasn't real.

At one point in the episode, the narrator concedes that concealed handguns have been used to “scare off” assailants in the past; however, no mention is made of the countless incidents where concealed handguns have been used to safely and successfully SHOOT assailants. And the only examples of self-defense shootings cited by the episode are clips from surveillance cameras, used to show examples of civilians firing handguns in self-defense and either not hitting their targets or firing too close to other civilians.

Despite all of the episode’s talk about the danger to bystanders, it does not present any examples of self-defense shootings where bystanders were actually caught in a crossfire or hit by stray bullets.

The episode presents a strongly biased anti-concealed carry position as if it were the irrefutable, scientifically proven gospel truth. In reality, the only thing this 20/20 special proves is that many members of the media strongly oppose the idea of civilians owning and, particularly, carrying firearms for personal protection.

###

"Students for Concealed Carry on Campus Handbook: Texas Edition:” http://www.studentsforconcealedcarryoncampus.com/

Additional blogs/essays about 20/20’s “If I Only Had a Gun:”

http://sensiblyprogressive.blogspot.com/2009/04/abc-anti-gun-hatchet-job-on-2020.html

http://johnrlott.blogspot.com/2009/04/abc-news-has-amazingly-bad-piece-on.html

http://armsandthelaw.com/archives/2009/04/abc_on_self_def.php

Misleading/Biased Associated Press Article about Recent Mass Shootings

2009-04-08T21:50:00.000-07:00

This Associated Press article is the epitome of shoddy, lopsided journalism: http://www.foxnews.com/wires/2009Apr07/0,4670,LegalGunmen,00.html

To say that the article, titled “Licensed to kill? Gunmen in killings had permits,” is misleading is a massive understatement. By pointing out that some of the gunmen possessed state-issued permits to own guns (Texas does not require a permit to own a gun) and then talking about legislation pending in the Texas legislature that would allow holders of Texas concealed handgun licenses to carry concealed handguns on Texas college campuses, the article blurs the line between the permits required in some states, such as Texas, to CARRY a gun and the much less stringent permits required in other states, such as New York, to simply OWN a gun.

The article never states which gunmen actually had permits or what types of permits they had. The only specific example cited is Jiverly Wong, the gunman in the civic center shooting in Binghamton, NY, who had a permit to OWN the two handguns used. If anything, that shooting demonstrates that the stricter gun control laws (such as requiring a permit to own guns) in states like New York do not, as gun control advocates suggest, prevent this type of tragedy.

This op-ed I wrote for the Fort Worth Star-Telegram (April 1, 2009) cites statistics showing that citizens—specifically Texans—have nothing to fear from concealed handgun license holders: http://www.star-telegram.com/242/story/1293901.html

The most absurd line in the AP article reads, “Nearly every gunman in this monthlong series of mass killings was legally entitled to fire his weapons.”

Any thinking person is left wondering, “Legally entitled to fire his weapons AT WHAT?”

Here is the full text of the article:

Licensed to kill? Gunmen in killings had permits

By DEBORAH HASTINGS

They had more in common than unleashing carnage — nearly every gunman in this monthlong series of mass killings was legally entitled to fire his weapons.

So what does that say about the state of gun control laws in this country? One thing appears certain: the regulations aren't getting stricter. Many recent efforts to change weapons laws have been about easing them.

Despite eight rampages that have claimed 57 lives since March 10, "it hasn't sparked any national goal to deal with this epidemic. In fact, it's going the other way," said Scott Vogel of the Freedom States Alliance, a gun control activist group.

Even President Barack Obama has felt that sway. Last month, 65 House Democrats said they would block any attempt to resurrect an expired federal ban against assault weapons.

The pro-gun Democrats, led by Rep. Mike Ross of Arkansas, wrote Attorney General Eric Holder saying they opposed not only a ban on military-style guns, but also efforts "to pass any similar law."

Gun control issues would only produce "a long and divisive fight," they said, at a time wen Congress should be focused on the roiling economy.

A few states are trying to loosen gun restrictions. In the Texas Capitol — where legislators can carry guns — bills easily passed the Senate in recent weeks that would allow employees to bring weapons to work as long as they leave them locked in their cars, and let those packing heat off the legal hook if they walked into a bar that didn't have signs saying guns weren't allowed inside.

The state also is considering allowing students licensed to carry a concealed weapon — there are about 300,000 such adults in Texas — to bring guns on campus.

Kansas plans to put a measure on its 2010 ballot that would rewrite the state constitution to make gun ownership a personal, rather than collective, right. In Tennessee, lawmakers made progress this month toward allowing guns to be carried in state and local parks.

"I think you're seeing a continuing change of culture," Vogel said. "I think the gun lobby wants to take away any stigma to gun ownership. I think they feel emboldened, like who's going to stop them?"

The National Rifle Association, the country's most powerful gun lobbying group, declined to comment this week on gun control laws. "Now is not the time to debate politics or discuss policy. It is time for families and communities to grieve and to heal," it said in a prepared statement.

Groups such as Vogel's, and the Brady Campaign to Prevent Gun Violence, say existing laws are already too weak — just look at the men who received gun permits, legally bought high-powered weapons, and then mowed down family, friends and total strangers in these past few weeks, they say.

Joining their outrage was the U.S. Conference of Mayors. "How many more gun-related acts of violence must we experience before the nation's leaders will decide that it is time to act?" asked president Manuel Diaz, mayor of Miami.

Gun enthusiasts say there is no way to prevent human beings from committing insane acts. Whether they have a gun permit or not.

On Friday, a depressed and angry Jiverly Wong used a 9 mm and .45-caliber handgun to kill 13 immigrants and service center employees in Binghamton, N.Y., police said. Earlier that day, the ethnic Chinese immigrant from Vietnam mailed an envelope to a Syracuse television station. In it were his gun permit, photos of him smiling while hoisting shiny, big handguns, and his driver's license.

Questions have been raised over the upstate New York gun permit issued to Wong in 1997. Two years later, he was reported to state police by an informer who claimed Wong was planning a bank heist to feed a crack-cocaine habit. Unlike other areas of the state, including New York City, Wong's Broome County permit did not have to be renewed.

Local authorities, however, have broad discretion in reviewing and revoking such permits, according to legal experts. Especially when it comes to drug use, criminal behavior and violence.

"In retrospect, this is probably not a guy who should have had a gun," said attorney Jeffrey Chamberlain, a former Rochester prosecutor and chief counsel to the New York State Police. "No one likes to see things fall through the cracks and it looks like this guy fell through the cracks."

Binghamton police chief Joseph Zikuski said Tuesday that no robbery occurred and there was no merit to review Wong's gun permit.

In New York City, gun permits are reissued every three years.

Yet, regulations differ only slightly between states, Chamberlain said. "They're fairly typical — don't be a felon, don't be a drunk, don't beat your kids or your wife. Don't be so mentally unbalanced that you need be in an institution."

To Chamberlain, the answer to gun violence lies not in stricter regulations, but in answering the question, "Why are we so tolerant of having guns in this country? The answer to that is historical. We've had guns for a very long time.

"I can't think of any sweeping law change that would address that."

To Vogel, the answer to why atrocities happen in places such as Binghamton, and before that Washington state and Santa Clara, Calif., lies in sheer numbers.

The number 280 million, to be precise, the estimated total of every gun in this country.

"When you have that many guns, those guns are going to be used in horrific ways," Vogel said. "There's just too many. Inevitably, somehow, some way, those weapons are going to be used in an egregious way."

Much of the confusion about whether Jiverly Wong had a permit to carry a gun or simply a permit to possess a gun stems from this photo from News 10 in Syracuse, NY.

At first glance, it appears that the permit is a carry permit; however, if you look at the vertical text on the right side of the face of the permit, you’ll see that it says “TARGET SHOOTING – HUNTING.”

According to the New York State Police website, “ONLY A QUALIFIED RETIRED LAW ENFORCEMENT OFFICER or SELF-PROTECTION LICENSE ARE FULL CARRY LICENSES.”
This is how a “TARGET SHOOTING – HUNTING” license is described by the NY State Police website:

(1) SPORTSMAN – (Target and Hunting) – For the underlined purposes, firearms may only be transported between your residence and an authorized target shooting range, a legal hunting area in New York State and while actually afield hunting.

The requirements to obtain a New York State “Target Shooting – Hunting” license are not nearly as stringent as the requirements (page 10) to obtain a Texas concealed handgun license.

Of course, even if Mr. Wong’s permit had been a full carry license, that wouldn’t change the fact that he carried his guns without also having his license in his possession (a violation of NY state law), that he carried his guns into a “gun free zone” (NY state law prohibits the possession of firearms “upon a building or grounds, used for educational purposes”), and that he violated numerous state and federal laws by murdering thirteen people. A carry permit does not ENABLE a person to commit premeditated murder.

“Students for Concealed Carry on Campus Handbook: Texas Edition” – http://www.studentsforconcealedcarryoncampus.com/

ProtestEasyGunsLIES.com: The Truth about “Assault Weapons” and Gun Control – http://www.protesteasygunslies.com/

A C-SPAN Clip of Me from Last August

2008-11-18T13:57:00.000-08:00

This is from Students for Concealed Carry on Campus's first national conference, August 1, 2008, in Washington, D.C. I've been meaning to post this for a while but haven't gotten around to it.

No, that's not me in the thumbnail. That's Mike Guzman preparing to introduce me.

Where I am

2008-09-29T01:58:00.000-07:00

It’s been over a year since I last made a blog post about something other than gun rights. That is partly do to the fact that I spent the bulk of the past year fighting for gun rights and partly do to the fact that my life has been sailing on pretty smooth waters for the past year. Contentment makes for lousy rants. But now the skies are turning dark, and my aging bones are starting to ache, and all of my senses tell me that a storm is brewing.

I spent a year of my life fighting for a cause in which I believe, and while I did, countless potential real estate deals slipped through my fingers. Though logic said I should dedicate my time and energy to making a living, passion usurped logic, and I found myself spending most of my time and energy fighting to change the world. And now the real estate market is in a coma, and if it doesn’t wake up soon, I’m going to find myself out of work and facing some serious lifestyle changes.

Though I am only moderately stressed over the prospect that I could find myself unable to pay the bills and be forced to move back into another crummy little apartment and take some horrible, meaningless job, my dad has already progressed to full-blown crisis mode. While I forfeited a year of my life to the fight for gun rights, he lost a year of his to a development project that took a couple of unfortunate turns, causing it to drag out much longer than expected (and at a lower financial return than expected). Now he’s ten days from turning sixty and harriedly battling market forces in an effort to close a couple of deals. Neither of us are having a lot of fun.

Without enough work (real estate or volunteer) to keep me occupied, I once again find myself in the unfortunate position of having enough time to evaluate my life. For the past year I’ve been very busy and fairly content with my life, but now, in the absence of any all-consuming projects, I find myself once again looking around and realizing that what I see does not satisfy me.

Yesterday (technically, two days ago, since I'm writing this well after midnight), I presided over the marriage of my two best friends. After nearly five years of dating, Jason and Alicia tied the knot, and I had the honor of pronouncing them husband and wife. As much as I enjoyed performing the ceremony, and as happy as it made me to see them married, I couldn’t help but develop a sense of melancholy as I looked around the reception and saw that all of my old friends are now either married or engaged. It feels as though they’ve left me behind. They’ve hitched up their oxen and moved on down the trail, and I’m still trying to ford the damn river.

I’m not the only one to notice that I’m apparently behind schedule. At the wedding reception, when it was time for Jason to toss Alicia’s garter, he pump faked over his shoulder and then turned and handed it to me. It was a sweet gesture on their part, but when your friends stoop to cheating at an old wedding superstition to try to give your love life a nudge, it’s pretty clear that your love life needs a nudge.

It’s not that I’m in a hurry to get married. I’m not even certain that guys like me are supposed to get married. It would certainly take a special kind of woman to tolerate me until death do us part (without trying to expedite the death part). And my friends will attest that I give new meaning to the word "picky."

It’s also not that I’m unable to meet women. For the past couple of months, I’ve been talking to an amazing young woman who is every bit as interested in me as I am in her. Unfortunately, among the many obstacles facing us (and not even chief among them) is the fact that this young woman is, according to conventional wisdom, too young for me. And as my friends will also attest, the last time I dated a woman who was too young for me, it didn’t work out too well.

Appropriately enough, a few hours before Jason and Alicia’s wedding, I ran into that young woman with whom it didn’t work out too well. Three years after the fact, our face-to-face conversations are still noticeably awkward. We’ve been on good terms for years and even exchange emails from time to time, but something about seeing her face-to-face still manages to jab a few old scars and knock the dust off a few stale emotions that I’d prefer remain forgotten.

With the woman I’m talking to now, I’m worried that she’s the one who’ll end up with sensitive scars that need guarding and stale emotions that stubornly get in the way of casual conversation. I know we all get hurt eventually, but I prefer not to be the one applying the “Damaged Goods” label.

I don’t know if I give off a pheromone that attracts nineteen-year-old artists or if I just have a self-destructive attraction to doomed relationships, but I do know that I never manage to fully learn my lesson. I learn something from every failed relationship, but it’s never enough to completely kill the romantic in me who, time after time, persuades me to board a train that I know full-well is headed someplace I don’t want to go.

So I’m on the verge of career implosion/financial ruin, my dad is on the verge of a nervous breakdown, my friends have all moved on to a stage of life where I cannot follow, and I’m falling in love with a woman who will undoubtedly prove to be the most logistically, philosophically, and psychologically challenging relationship of my life.

But I’m not complaining. If there is one thing I’ve learned in my 28.6 years, it’s that none of us choose the cards we’re dealt; we just choose how we play the hand. The way I look at it, I’m sitting on three of a kind. I’d rather be holding a full house, but there are plenty of guys making winning hands out of two pair, so I have no room to complain. I’d have to be a self-absorbed fool to look at everything I have and everything I’ve done and not believe that I’m one of the luckiest men ever to live.

If there are rough seas ahead, they’ll help me appreciate how long the water was smooth, and they'll serve as a reminder that we're all either navigating rough water or nearing rough water--Nobody's water stays smooth forever. So, I’m not complaining. I’m just telling you where I am.

D.C. v. Heller

2008-06-26T11:05:00.000-07:00

Though I'm sure that many of my fellow gun rights advocates won't be pleased to hear me say this, the best summary of today's ruling by the U.S. Supreme Court came from Paul Helmke, president of The Brady Campaign to Prevent Gun Violence and one of America's fiercest opponents of gun rights.

In a press conference shortly after the ruling was released, Helmke stated, "They've taken the extremes away."

And he's right. Although the ruling by the U.S. Supreme Court makes clear that the United States Constitution does guarantee individuals the right to keep and bear arms, that same ruling also makes clear that many restrictions that fall short of an outright ban do not violate an individual's Second Amendment rights.

That means that the goal line has been moved for both sides. No longer can anti-gun advocates argue that the Constitution allows the government to impose any restrictions on gun ownership that it sees fit, and no longer can pro-gun advocates argue that the Constitution prohibits any and all restrictions on gun ownership.

The debate has just changed. Everyone involved will now be required to rely more heavily on facts and reason than on the dogma to which many on both sides previously clung.

This is what I've been up to lately.

2008-02-21T18:43:00.000-08:00

Newsweek - February 15, 2008

Fox News - February 16, 2008

CNN - February 18, 2008

Latest Radio Interview for SCCC

2007-12-30T01:08:00.000-08:00

Here is a radio interview I did while I was in Lubbock for Christmas:

My Op-Ed in the Washington Times

2007-10-25T20:48:00.000-07:00

Most people who know me (or read my blog) know that I vehemently and vocally support the right of individuals to keep and bear arms. I believe that every person has the innate right to defend himself or herself and that no individual should be forced to rely entirely on a third party for protection. I also believe that we, as citizens, should never assume government agencies--the military and police--will always be ready, willing, and able to defend our lives and our rights. Because of these strongly held beliefs, I often dedicate my time and energy to gun rights causes and groups.

For the past month I've dedicated almost every free moment (and some moments that really weren't so free) to a group called Students for Concealed Carry on Campus. My involvement started by sending them one of my articles on the issue of concealed carry on college campuses. Then, when they needed somebody to write a press release, I offered my services as a writer (CLICK HERE to read the release). Finally, at the beginning of this month, I took on the role of Media Coordinator for the organization, my first duty being to get the word out to the media about SCCC's then-upcoming (Oct. 22-26, 2007) national collegiate Empty Holster Protest.

After many long hours spent coordinating interviews and giving interviews, I feel like I have not eaten, slept, or been without a phone to my ear or a keyboard at my fingertips in a year. But it is a worthy cause. And the point of this blog post isn't to brag/complain about how hard I've been working for SCCC; it's to let everyone who's been asking when I'll write another rant know that I had an op-ed piece published in the Wednesday, October 24, 2007, edition of the Washington Times. It can be read (in a PDF of the actual newspaper page) HERE. Hopefully it will hold you over until I once again have the energy and inclination to rant about lighter fare.

Even I am Capable of Being an Asshole

2007-06-01T13:23:00.000-07:00

I hope that nobody who reads this will hold it against me--It's simply my attempt to be honest about the mistakes I made in my last short-lived relationship.

Over the last few years, I’ve done a lot of writing about love and dating. To be honest, I’m pretty burned out on writing about love and dating. However, this is something I really want to say, so I’m going to say it and try to keep it brief. I recently found myself making a departure from my usual roll as "the sweet guy who gets his heart broken" and trying out the roll of "the asshole who does the heartbreaking." And having tried it out, I feel confident in saying that "the asshole" is one role I don't plan on reprising.

There were so many times in my past when I said that all I wanted was a woman who was as crazy about me as I was about her that I never considered the possibility that I might find a woman who actually liked me more than I liked her.

Three months ago I met a woman who treated me the way I’ve always wanted a girl to treat me. She found time to hang out with me, no matter how hectic her schedule. She called just to ask how my day was going. She actually seemed to miss me when were apart and acted excited to see me whenever we got together. She even surprised me with a plate of homemade of cookies when I returned from a business trip, even though she hates to cook. And in return I was aloof and fickle and inconsiderate and all the things I’ve hated about most of the girls I’ve dated.

From our first date, it was clear to me that she and I did not share a lot of common interests, goals, or beliefs. But she was such a “neat gal,” as my father would say, that I let things move forward, in the hopes that perhaps time would settle my concerns about our future and help me learn to like her as much as she liked me. That isn’t to say I didn’t like her—I definitely did. In fact, the thing that hurts the most in all of this is that my actions toward the end of the relationship (not calling when I said I would, postponing dates) probably lead her to believe that I liked her less, or at least respected her less, than I actually did.

Last night, after I seriously upset her by postponing a date, she asked if I liked her as much as she liked me. Like a painful lightning bolt of self-awareness, I suddenly realized that I had turned into the type of jerky boyfriend I've always despised. Part of me really wanted to apologize and tell her that I’d try harder to be the boyfriend she deserved, but a bigger part of me knew that my concerns about our future together weren’t getting any smaller, so I told her the truth. I told her that I liked her but didn’t see a future for us. She took it like the strong, classy woman she is. After I walked her to her car and hugged her goodbye, I waved to her as she drove away, like I’d always done before when she left my house. But this time I knew she wouldn’t be coming back.

The plate of cookies she made me is still sitting in my fridge. Every time I see it or even think about it, I have to choke back some tears. It breaks my heart to know that I hurt someone who cared enough about me to endure a task she despised, in an effort to please me. She’s a sweet, attractive, fun woman, and I wish the fates had conspired in a way that didn’t lead to her getting hurt, but I think I made the right decision. There were too many fundamental differences between us for us to have what I would consider a stable foundation for a long-term relationship. But even though it would have never worked in the long term, she really was the best girlfriend I've ever had, and I miss her already.

LJ, thank you for being a better girlfriend than I deserved. I hope that someday you find the boyfriend you deserve. Blue skies.

I'm tired, and I want to go to bed.

2007-05-22T23:47:00.000-07:00

Most people who know me know that I have a strong dislike for Disney World. I have no use for a place where you're asked to hand over absurd amounts of money to indulge immature fantasies while a lot of colorful characters constantly remind you that you’re having fun, lest you forget that the bizarre world in which you find yourself is supposed to be fun and start worrying about all the money you’ve blown. Being that I feel this way about Disney World, it should come as no surprise that I also have a strong dislike for Las Vegas, since Vegas is basically Disney World on meth.

Every spring the International Council of Shopping Centers holds its national convention in Las Vegas. I’m now on the tail end of my second trip to this sadomasochistic three-day event in which one out of every 6,000 Americans converge on Sin City to network with other real estate professionals and close big deals.

I’m not going to go off on a tangent about how much Vegas sucks; though, it does, and I’m not going to rant about how grueling this convention is; though, it’s quite grueling. I’m simply going to make one basic point to all the big shot brokers and developers out there: When, after a hard day, I concede to spend my evening at a reception for your real estate firm, I’m simply attending that function to network with other real estate professionals. You don’t need to waste your money hiring bikini models to walk around in swimwear, posing for photos and making small talk.

I’m not a prude. In fact, if I were a prude, I might find this sort of thing quite titillating. Instead, I’m a guy with a girlfriend, a few fun friends, and plenty of good strip clubs, should I need a quick T&A fix, waiting for me in Central Texas. I didn’t drive 1,450 miles for your softcore party favors—I have the hard stuff back home. Right now I’m tired and hungry, and I don’t need the Doublemint Twins retarding the networking process and impeding my return to the comfort of my insanely overpriced hotel room.

I understand that showing your friends a picture of yourself standing next to a girl who once played a dead prostitute on CSI may be the highlight of your year--and I'm not saying that the stimulating conversation you had with her about ten-thirty-one exchanges in secondary markets wasn't the highlight of her year--but conversational prostitution doesn't really float my boat, so could we please get back to the business at hand?

Sometimes, looking competent carries more weight than performing competently.

A Couple of My Gun Essays

2007-05-03T23:10:00.000-07:00

I derived each of the following two essays, in part, from my earlier blog post about guns on college campuses.

College Gun Bans Are Unfounded

In the aftermath of the 1999 massacre at Columbine High School, a national debate erupted over whether or not America needs stricter gun control. Eventually those heated arguments subsided. Now, eight years later, in the aftermath of the massacre at Virginia Tech, a very different debate is heating up in Texas—“Should state laws be amended to allow concealed handguns on college campuses?” This editorialist says “yes.”

To fairly consider this issue, one must first understand that nobody is seriously proposing a mass arming of college students and faculty. Nobody is suggesting that handguns be included in the orientation packets provided to entering freshmen. Nobody is recommending that every teacher be issued a laptop and a handgun. And most certainly nobody is recommending that anyone carry a concealed handgun if he or she is not willing, trained, and licensed to do so. What is being proposed is that students and faculty who have already undergone the training, testing, and background checks required to obtain concealed handgun licenses be allowed to carry their concealed handguns on campus, the same way they’re allowed to at grocery stores, banks, office buildings, etc. Since the statistics show that thousands of college faculty members and students, age twenty-one and above, legally carry concealed handguns without incident when not on campus, why should we assume they would demonstrate any less discretion or sound judgment when carrying on campus?

In Texas the background checks performed on persons applying for a concealed handgun license include both state and federal fingerprint checks, as well as research into sealed/expunged criminal records and records of mental illness. Applicants must also prove their handgun proficiency on a firing range and attend a class covering hypothetical scenarios, case studies, and the legal ramifications of using a concealed handgun. It is almost impossible to emerge from one of these classes without a grave respect for the serious responsibility of carrying a concealed handgun.

When a 2006 bill that would have given licensed individuals the right to carry on Virginia college campuses was voted down by the Virginia state legislature, Virginia Tech spokesman Larry Hincker proclaimed, "I'm sure the university community is appreciative of the General Assembly's actions because this will help parents, students, faculty, and visitors feel safe on our campus." Unfortunately, as recent events show, feeling safe is not the same as being safe. Declaring an area a “gun free zone” only frees that zone of guns carried by people intent on obeying the law.

Many of those opposed to allowing concealed handguns on college campuses claim that the presence of guns would be a distraction that would inhibit the learning environment. This argument disregards the basic premise of a concealed handgun. Licensing laws require licensees to keep their guns concealed, out of respect for those who might be uncomfortable seeing openly carried firearms. Over a quarter of a million Texans currently possess concealed handgun licenses; however, most Texans would be hard pressed to remember the last time they noticed anyone other than a law enforcement officer “packing heat.” Properly concealed handguns are simply not noticeable to the casual observer.

Many assume that a person must have years of training, through which he or she is conditioned to have superhuman reflexes and deadeye accuracy, in order to successfully use a concealed handgun for self-defense. However, in cases like the recent massacre at Virginia Tech and the 1991 massacre at the Luby’s restaurant in Killeen, Texas, the killers worked slowly and methodically, walking up to victims and shooting them at point blank range. It takes neither superhuman reflexes nor deadeye accuracy to defend oneself against a killer who walks from victim to victim, firing from only a few feet away.

Concealed handgun license holders, as a whole, do not contribute to America’s gun problems. In fact, license holders commit felonies at a rate on par with police officers.* Quite simply put, there is absolutely no evidence suggesting that Americans have any reason to fear letting licensed individuals carry their concealed handguns on college campuses.

In CNN’s interview with Emily Haas, one of the Virginia Tech gunman’s surviving victims, she described how she and her classmates heard gunshots in the room next door and hid under their desks, “waiting and hoping [the shooter] wouldn’t come in.” But he did come in, and now Emily’s professor and ten of her classmates are dead. Perhaps, had someone in Emily’s classroom been armed with a concealed handgun, he or she could have done more than wait and hope.

*“Crime, Deterrence, and Right-to-Carry Concealed Handguns,” John Lott and David Mustard, Journal of Legal Studies (v.26, no.1, pages 1-68, January 1997); “An Analysis of The Arrest Rate Of Texas Concealed Handgun License Holders as Compared to the Arrest Rate of the Entire Texas Population,” William E. Sturdevant, September 1, 2000; Florida Department of Justice statistics, 1998; Florida Department of State, “Concealed Weapons/Firearms License Statistical Report,” 1998; Texas Department of Public Safety and the U.S. Census Bureau, reported in San Antonio Express-News, September, 2000; Texas Department of Corrections data, 1996-2000, compiled by the Texas State Rifle Association, www.tsra.com/arrests.htm

Handgun Laws Must Be Based On Fact

On April 29, in a move typical of American politics, Texas Governor Rick Perry proposed a simple solution to a complex problem—He suggested that the State Legislature could help stem the tide of mass shootings in America by allowing citizens with concealed handgun licenses to carry “anywhere.” Though I am an outspoken gun rights advocate, I contend that all decisions about where to allow and disallow licensed handgun possession should be based on an in-depth analysis of the facts, not emotional rhetoric.

On the morning of August 1, 1966, few people had ever considered the possibility that they could die in an indiscriminate mass shooting. But shortly before noon on that fateful day, a twenty-five-year-old ex-Marine climbed to the top of the University of Texas bell tower and created a worldwide reference point for such fears. Over the last forty-one years, a spate of such killing sprees has made the unbelievable all too believable. Today students are taught what to do in the event of such an attack, much the same way their parents were once taught to “duck and cover” in the event of a nuclear attack.

After a 1991 incident in which a lone gunman killed twenty-three people in a Luby’s restaurant in Killeen, Texas, many Texans lobbied the state legislature to pass laws allowing citizens to carry handguns for personal defense. In 1995, then-Governor George W. Bush signed into law legislation allowing qualified Texans to be trained and licensed to carry concealed handguns.

When it comes to the debate over gun control, concealed handgun licensing laws are an excellent compromise. Prospective licensees undergo the training and stringent background checks that gun control advocates support, and in return, the licensees are allowed to carry their handguns in public, which gun rights advocates support.

Concealed handgun license holders, as a whole, do not contribute to America’s gun problems. In fact, license holders commit felonies at a rate on par with police officers.* In the thirty-nine states that issue concealed handgun licenses to any qualified applicant, licensees have saved the lives of everyone from little old ladies to police officers.

Texas’s concealed handgun licensing program is an important tool for preserving safety. Unfortunately, Rick Perry endangered its solid reputation by making a blanket statement about removing all restrictions, without first examining the facts.

It is hard to deny that many of the current restrictions placed on license holders are based more on emotion than fact. For instance, if thousands of college faculty members and students, age twenty-one and above, legally carry concealed handguns at grocery stores, banks, doctors’ offices, etc., without incident, why should we assume they would demonstrate any less discretion or sound judgment when carrying on college campuses? How does labeling colleges “gun free zones” deter someone already intent on breaking the law? Clearly these collegiate “gun free zones” are more about making people feel safer on campus than about actually making campuses safer.

There are, however, some restrictions on concealed handgun licensees which are rooted solidly in fact. The prohibition against carrying a concealed handgun into an establishment that earns 51% or more of its income from the sale of alcohol for onsite consumption is based on the well-documented link between alcohol and violence.

One of the arguments against offering concealed handgun licenses was that it would cause our state to revert to the “wild west.” Opponents claimed we would see petty arguments turn into public shootings. Twelve years after the program’s implementation, this has not proved to be the case. But allowing licensees to carry handguns in bars could still lead to this “wild west” scenario. When you look beyond the movies, at statistics from the real “wild west,” you find that the consumption of alcohol was a factor in the majority of the shootings during that period. In a 1995 study, Clare V. McKanna, Jr., professor of Native American and Latin American history at San Diego State University, found that from 1880-1920, in notoriously violent Dougles County, Nebraska, over 75% of the perpetrators of homicide were under the influence of alcohol. Statistics like that are hard to ignore. Supporters of concealed handgun licenses, including Rick Perry, would do well to accept that being unarmed is simply the price we pay for visiting a bar in Texas, lest we inadvertently help our opponents make their case against us.

Concealed handgun license holders will continue to function as asset to public safety, as long as the laws restricting them are based on fact, not emotion.

*“Crime, Deterrence, and Right-to-Carry Concealed Handguns,” John Lott and David Mustard, Journal of Legal Studies (v.26, no.1, pages 1-68, January 1997); “An Analysis of The Arrest Rate Of Texas Concealed Handgun License Holders as Compared to the Arrest Rate of the Entire Texas Population,” William E. Sturdevant, September 1, 2000; Florida Department of Justice statistics, 1998; Florida Department of State, “Concealed Weapons/Firearms License Statistical Report,” 1998; Texas Department of Public Safety and the U.S. Census Bureau, reported in San Antonio Express-News, September, 2000; Texas Department of Corrections data, 1996-2000, compiled by the Texas State Rifle Association, www.tsra.com/arrests.htm

There Are Some Things Money Can't Buy

2007-04-30T16:10:00.000-07:00

Concealed Handguns on College Campuses

2007-04-22T18:23:00.000-07:00

In light of the current national debate over whether or not college students and faculty should be allowed to carry concealed handguns on campus, I would like to offer a few insights into the position in favor of allowing concealed carry on college campuses.

As far as I know, nobody is seriously recommending a mass arming of college students and faculty members. Nobody is suggesting that handguns be included in the orientation packets provided to entering freshmen. Nobody is suggesting that, along with laptop computers and chalkboard erasers, every teacher be issued a handgun. And most certainly nobody is recommending that anyone carry a concealed handgun if he or she is not completely comfortable with the idea and competently trained and licensed to do so. What is being suggested is that students and faculty who have already undergone the training, testing, and rigorous background checks required to obtain concealed handgun licenses be allowed to carry their concealed handguns on campus, just as they already do everywhere else.

Throughout this nation there are thousands upon thousands of college students, age twenty-one and above, and collegiate faculty members who, in accordance with state and federal laws, regularly carry concealed handguns in their off-campus lives. Since the statistics show that these same people carry their weapons without incident when not on campus, why should it be assumed that they would demonstrate any less discretion or sound judgment if carrying on campus?

When it comes to the national debate over gun control, many proponents of stricter gun control argue that gun rights advocates are unwilling to compromise. On the contrary, concealed handgun licensing laws are the perfect compromise. Prospective licensees undergo the types of training and stringent background checks that proponents of gun control advocate, and in return, the licensees are allowed to carry their handguns in public. That is a true compromise—both sides give a little, and both sides get a little.

The background checks performed on persons applying for a concealed handgun license are MUCH more extensive than the instant background checks performed when someone purchases a gun. In Texas, the background checks on applicants often take over a hundred days. In most states these extensive checks include both state and federal fingerprint checks, as well as research into sealed and expunged criminal record and records of mental illness. People are often disqualified for things like recent misdemeanor convictions, such as DUIs.

Along with undergoing background checks, applicants must also prove their handgun proficiency on a firing range and take a class in the applicable state and federal laws, including the legal use of deadly force. The practical shooting test proves an applicant’s knowledge of the proper use of his or her firearm. The class covers hypothetical scenarios, case studies, and the legal ramifications of both the lawful and unlawful use of a concealed handgun. It is almost impossible for an applicant to graduate from one of these classes without a grave respect for the serious responsibility of carrying a concealed handgun.

When a 2006 bill before the Virginia legislature that would have given holders of concealed handgun licenses the right to carry on college campuses was voted down, Virginia Tech spokesman Larry Hincker happily proclaimed, "I'm sure the university community is appreciative of the General Assembly's actions because this will help parents, students, faculty, and visitors feel safe on our campus." Unfortunately, as recent events have shown, feeling safe is not the same as being safe. The feeling of safety provided by “gun free zones” is an illusion. Even law enforcement officers believe so. An officer with the Lexington, Kentucky, Police Department explained, “If you have a concealed carry [license], then you should be allowed to carry anywhere there are not metal detectors. Saying you cannot carry in certain places, like schools, only makes the people that obey the law stop carrying, not the criminals. Criminals don't see the sign and think, 'Gee, I better not shoot there.'”

Declaring an area a “gun free zone” only frees that zone of guns carried by people intent on obeying the law. A person intent on committing murder or any other crime is not going to be deterred by the knowledge that possessing a firearm in a “gun free zone” is a relatively minor infraction of the law.

Many of those opposed to allowing concealed carry on college campuses claim that the mere presence of concealed handguns would be a distraction that would inhibit the learning environment; however, this disregards the basic premise of a CONCEALED handgun. Concealed handgun licensing laws require licensees to keep their guns concealed, out of respect for those people that might be made uncomfortable by the sight of an openly carried firearm. In the twelve years since Texas passed its concealed handgun licensing act, I have never once noticed another Texan carrying a concealed handgun, even though Texas has one of the highest rates of concealed carry in America. Properly concealed handguns are simply not noticeable to the average citizen. In fact, properly concealed handguns are often difficult to spot, even for a trained eye. Can you tell for certain which of the two men in THIS picture is carrying a concealed handgun? If you hadn’t been told that one of them is, would you suspect either of them of carrying a concealed handgun if you saw them on the street or in a classroom?

There is a popular notion among gun control advocates that a person must have years of training, through which he or she is conditioned to have superhuman reflexes and deadeye accuracy, in order to successfully use a concealed handgun for self-defense. This notion, however, is not supported by the facts. In cases like the recent massacre at Virginia Tech, the 1999 massacre at Columbine High School, and the 1991 massacre at the Luby’s restaurant in Killeen, Texas, the killers worked slowly and methodically, walking up to victims and shooting them at point blank range. It takes neither superhuman reflexes nor deadeye accuracy to defend oneself against a killer who walks from victim to victim, firing from only a few feet away.

In CNN’s interview with Emily Haas, one of the Virginia Tech gunman’s surviving victims, she described hiding under her desk, after her class heard gunshots in the room next door, “waiting and hoping he wouldn’t come in.” But he did come in, and now Emily’s professor and several classmates are dead. Perhaps, had someone in Emily’s classroom been armed with a concealed handgun, at least one person in that room could have done more than wait and hope.

In Dr. Suzanna Gratia Hupp’s 1992 testimony before the Missouri State Senate, in favor of a bill that was later passed, allowing citizens of Missouri to obtain concealed handgun licenses, Dr. Hupp described how she might have prevented the death of both of her parents, during the 1991 Luby’s Massacre, had she been allowed by the state of Texas to carry a concealed handgun:

"I grew up in a house with no guns. My father was not 'Bubba Hunter.’ In fact he gave up fishing because he didn't like to clean fish. When I grew up and moved out on my own, I was given a gun by a friend, for self protection. I was taught how to use it and knew how to use it correctly, and I carried it my purse. I lived in the country by myself.

"Somewhere along the line I made one of my stupidest decisions—I was afraid that if somebody caught me with the gun in my purse, I could lose my license to practice [chiropractic medicine], lose my ability to make a living. So I took the gun out of my purse, and I left it in my car, which the laws in my state are kind of wishy-washy on. And I thought, 'Heck, if I needed it, it's probably going to be when I'm out on the road, in the middle of nowhere and, you know, my car is broke down or something.

"Everybody in here knows, I think, what happened in Luby's. But, in a nutshell—You know, we all think—and I know you do (indicating a committee member)—We all think that crime happens when you're walking down a dark alley. I've never been involved in any crimes. That's never happened in my life. I was with my parents AT NOON, on a bright sunny day, in Luby's, with a hundred and forty other people, in a town that's not a high crime town.

"This guy drives through the window and starts shooting. This guy has got no history—nothing. Well, my father and I immediately put the table up in front of us, and we all got down behind it, and I—You know your first opinion is “Is this guy robbing this place? What's the deal? What's going on?” And then you're realizing that all he's doing is simply shooting people.

"As he was working his way toward us, I reached for my purse, thinking, ‘Hah! I've got this son of a gun!’ Now, understand, I know what a lot of people think. They think, 'Oh, my God—Then you would have had a gunfight, and then more people would have been killed.’ Nuh-uh. No. I was down on the floor; this guy is standing up; everybody else is down on the floor. I had a perfect shot at him—It would have been clear; I had a place to prop my hand; the guy was not even aware of what we were doing.

“I'm not saying that I could have saved anybody in there, but I would have had a chance. That's all I'm saying is that I would have had a chance. My gun wasn't even in my purse—It was a hundred feet away in my car!"

This same testimony lead to the passing of concealed handgun licensing acts in both Missouri and Texas.

There is absolutely no evidence suggesting that the American people have any reason to fear letting concealed handgun license holders carry their concealed handguns on college campuses, the same way they already carry at grocery stores, shopping malls, and office buildings throughout the nation. Quite simply put, concealed handgun license holders, as a whole, do not contribute to America’s gun problems. In fact, concealed handgun license holders commit felonies at a rate on par with police officers. To date, no police officer has ever been killed by a concealed handgun license holder; however, there have been several well documented cases where police officers have been saved by legally armed citizens.

The issues of gun crime, gun control, and concealed handguns are complicated issues without simple answers, and we would all do well to form opinions on these issues based on careful examination of the facts, rather than on emotion.

Putting Today's Shooting at Virginia Tech into Perspective

2007-04-16T15:38:00.000-07:00

By now most of the world has heard about the mass shooting that occurred this morning at Virginia Tech. At this hour, officials have confirmed thirty-one dead and twenty-nine wounded. As the world struggles to process the horrors that occurred today on this well-known college campus, I would like to take a few moments, while the news images and death tolls are still fresh on all of our minds, to share my own perspective on this type of tragedy. I feel relatively certain in saying that when all the facts are in, we will learn that all of the gunman's victims died unarmed.

Most states, including Virginia, now offer law abiding citizens the right to obtain a license to carry a concealed handgun. Unfortunately, most states, including Virginia, also have laws that prevent even holders of concealed handgun licenses from being in possession of a firearm inside the buildings of a college campus. These "gun free zones" are designed to prevent this sort of tragedy; however, they did nothing to protect the thirty-one people who died today.

To quote Suzanna Gratia Hupp, the woman who secured the passing of the Texas concealed handgun licensing act by testifying before the Texas state legislature that her parents would not have died in the October 16, 1991, massacre at a Luby’s restaurant in Killeen, TX, had she been allowed by state law to carry a concealed handgun, "We have created a shopping list for madmen. If guns are the problem, why don't we see things occurring at skeet and trap shoots, at gun shows; at NRA conventions? We only see it where guns aren't allowed. The sign of a gun with a slash through it is like a neon sign for gunmen--'We're unarmed. Come kill us.'"

As I listen to newscasters ask why people were not screened for weapons when entering the campus buildings at Virginia Tech, I'm forced to visualize our nation transformed into a giant airport terminal. I don't know anyone who wants to live in a world where students have to remove their shoes, take off their belts, and open their laptops before walking into a classroom. Such security is neither practical nor plausible. We must all learn to accept that life is uncertain and that no amount of legislation or security checkpoints will ever make any of us one hundred percent "safe."

Today's shooting surpasses the October 16, 1991, shooting at the Luby's restaurant in Killeen, TX--The shooting that catapulted Suzanna Gratia Hupp into the national spotlight--as the deadliest mass shooting in U.S. history. The first such mass shooting in U.S. history occurred on August 1, 1966, on the campus of the University of Texas, where, for ninety-six minutes, Charles Whitman fired upon students, passersby, and police, from the now infamous U.T. tower, killing fifteen people and wounding thirty-one others. Whitman did relatively little damage after the first twenty minutes of that ninety-six minute standoff, thanks in large part to a countless number of college students who grabbed hunting rifles from their dorm rooms and fired upon Whitman, without cease, forcing him to keep his head down, until he was finally shot by a police officer who climbed to the top of the tower. Today, a student at the University of Texas who keeps a firearm in his or her dorm room is guilty of a felony.

I apologize if it seems that I’m making this statement "too soon" after the events that transpired today or if it seems that my comments are in some other way in poor taste, but when this type of event occurs, a healthy, balanced perspective must be achieved early, before knee-jerk reactions and emotional backlashes have a chance to take hold.

How Scott Got His Groove Back

2007-02-04T14:19:00.000-08:00

"[Riding waves] is a state of mind. It's that place where you lose yourself and you find yourself." --Point Break (1991)

A few years ago, I tried to explain to a friend how most of my vacations as an adult have turned out to be more trouble than they were worth. As he laughed at the anecdotes of my misfortune, he commented that at least these travel disasters provide me with an endless supply of great stories. I replied, “I have enough great stories. For once, I'd just like to have a great vacation.” It’s been a long time coming, but I finally got my wish.

My childhood was a double-edged sword. The first eighteen years of my life couldn't have been any more exciting or eclectic if they'd been penned by Mark Twain. Unfortunately, my awesome childhood set the bar so high that life as an adult seldom lives up to it. The high water mark of those formative years was definitely set by the great trips I used to take with my family. There were the trips to Lake L.B.J. that my family took with my dad’s brother’s family--For a week in June, our days could be as exciting or as relaxing as we wanted. We could go out in the boat and work on our water skiing moves, or we could lie around on the front porch and read. There were also the trips my dad and I used to take to Colorado--For ten days in July, the two of us would operate with no schedule and no agenda. We were always finding new adventures, from learning to rock climb to tackling a world class downhill mountain biking course. And last but certainly not least, there were the trips my dad and sister and I took to our cousins’ farm in Missouri--This two-week departure, each August, from our lives in suburban Texas was the highlight of our year and the perfect way to cap off each summer.

Lately, the memories of those fantastic vacations have felt more like visions of a past life. In the years since the last of those traditional family vacations, I've traveled from coast to coast in the U.S., jumped out of planes all over North America, and backpacked around Europe, and none of that has been able to hold a candle to any of those trips I took as a kid. But for the first time in a decade, a trip has lived up to my standards. Costa Rica was like a Lake L.B.J. trip, a Colorado trip, and a Missouri trip all rolled into one.

If there was ever a point in my life when I needed a real vacation, this was it. The last couple of years have been pretty bleak. My world has suffered from a severe shortage of adventure, romance, and stress-free days. Costa Rica gave me a fix on all three counts.

For the first time since I got my SCUBA certification ten years ago, I got to do some real (translation: not in a lake) diving. For the first time in my life, I got to try surfing and sailing, two things I've wanted to do for as long as I can remember. After spending so much of the last decade focused on skydiving, it was great to once again feel the exhilaration of trying something new. All told, this trip was without a dull moment.

I suppose everyone should have at least one vacation that involves a brief romantic fling, and this trip, in keeping with its theme of new experiences, filled that role for me. Three days before my trip ended, I met a beautiful young woman from Chicago, and spending time with her turned out to be the perfect ending to the perfect trip. She was the kind of girl I'd definitely like to get to know better if the world were a smaller place, but despite the obligatory talk about how we both wished we live closer together, we knew the score going in, and we managed to squeeze a lot of fun out of our brief time together.

Above all else, this vacation was great because, for the first time in longer than I can remember, I was able to tune out the world I left behind and live in the moment. I was able to enjoy this vacation for what it was. I was able to relax and enjoy good friends, good food, and good times. I was able sit outside in the warm, clean Central American air and work on a screenplay and not suffer the distractions of the “real world” back home. It was a great trip.

When I was a kid, I always got pretty depressed coming home from those Missouri trips at the end of each summer. The first day of school was usually only a week or two away, and I knew that the good times of the past two weeks would soon be supplanted by harsh, cold realities. On that long car ride home, I'd always try to convince myself that things would be different. I'd tell myself that I was going to draw from my experiences in rural Missouri and take life by the horns and carry that renewed zest for life with me for the rest of the year. But, alas, a week into the new school year, it was always business as usual.

Two nights ago, on that dark, depressing flight back to Texas, I wasn't so naïve as to tell myself anything would be better or different when I got home. I've spent enough years in the real world to know that change is seldom, if ever, that swift or simple. But I did remember something else. I remembered the way all those Missouri trips slowly molded me into the man I was to become. I considered the way so many of the little things I took away from those trips have managed to work their way into my current views on life. And I realized that maybe this trip WOULD change things, in a small way that might only be perceptible through the passage of time. Maybe the realization that I can still enjoy life, despite the absence of filmmaking and skydiving, my two former passions, will reinvigorate me. Maybe the relaxed “one day at a time” attitude of the Costa Rican people will embed itself in my subconscious as a subtle reminder to not take life so seriously. Or maybe those three days with that beautiful young woman from Chicago will help me to remember that romance can find you when and where you least expect it.

It’s too soon to tell what exactly I'll take away from this trip, but I don't think I ever walk into my house with exactly the same views on life that I had when I walked out of it, so I'm sure those eleven days away from home are already at work below the surface, gradually transforming me like the slow trickle of water on rock.

Blue skies,

W. Scott “Douva” Lewis

CLICK HERE to view pictures from my trip to Costa Rica.

An Observation Worthy of a Blog Post

2006-12-28T22:39:00.000-08:00

This was my reply to a question on dropzone.com. After posting it, I decided my response deserves a place here, among my other insights into the world of modern dating.

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In Reply To
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When do you decide it's time to check the "In a Relationshp" box on Myspace or change your status from single to taken?
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The danger is not in choosing the wrong answer; the danger is in asking the question. This dilemma is another of the made-up, bullshit problems twenty-first century western culture has created to fill the void left by all those real problems we no longer face. Somehow I doubt any of my great-grandparents ever struggled with an internal dialogue over whether or not they were in a relationship. Of course, back then it wasn't the norm to date two or three people at the same time; you didn't have to be with someone for a year before you dared refer to him or her as your boyfriend or girlfriend; "talking to somebody" simply meant you were conversing orally with another person; and "hanging out" was what you did to laundry. In those simple times, people didn't have problems like "Do you think I scared him by calling it a 'relationship?'"--They were too busy trying to make it through the Great Depression without getting polio.

Even eHarmony.com Doesn't Think I Should be Dating

2006-12-08T12:32:00.000-08:00

Thank you, life, I get it--I’m a weird guy. After nearly twenty-seven years, that point has been made abundantly clear, and you should feel free to cease your efforts to drive it home at every opportunity.

From my childhood days on the playground, through those awkward high school parties, past the college years, and on to today, I have always been the strange one, the loner, the guy who was friends with every clique but didn’t quite fit into any. But now Screech is all grown up, and he’d really just like to have a normal life. Unfortunately, even online dating services are reminding me that that’s not possible.

Last weekend my friend Alicia told me about a friend of hers who met her fiancé on the online dating site eHarmony.com. Despite my protests that online dating sites are a waste of time for most straight men (straight, single men are at the bottom of the online dating hierarchy), she insisted I give this one a try. The draw of this particular site is that it uses a ridiculously long personality profile to provide members with compatible matches. Figuring that my dating life has nowhere to go but up, I decided to go for it.

After filling out the free personality profile, this is the response I received from the site:

Unable to Match You at This Time

eHarmony is based upon a complex matching system developed through extensive research with married couples. One of the requirements for successful matching is that participants fall within certain defined profiles. If we find that we will not be able to match a user using these profiles, we feel it is only fair to inform them early in the process.

We are so convinced of the importance of creating compatible matches to help people establish happy, lasting relationships that we sometimes choose not to provide service rather than risk an uncertain match.

Unfortunately, we are not able to make our profiles work for you. Our matching model could not accurately predict with whom you would be best matched. This occurs for about 20% of potential users, so 1 in 5 people simply will not benefit from our service. We hope that you understand, and we regret our inability to provide service for you at this time.

Technology has now provided a way for millions of women to shoot me down at once. Whole online dating sites are able to say, "Yeah, we really don't think any of the two million women on our site would be interested in you, but thanks for trying."

Despite this particular setback, I am still convinced there is a woman out there for me. And I am even more convinced than before that her name is Svetlana and that she needs a green card.

Why I Should Stop Dating and Save My Money for a Mail Order Bride

2006-11-15T02:37:00.000-08:00

After doing some careful soul searching and consulting with a couple of spiritual gurus who advertise in the back of the Thrifty Nickel, I have come to the only conclusion that makes any sense: I was Ted Bundy in a past life, and my current dating life is Karma’s way of catching up with me. Case in point: This last weekend.

Two weekends ago a friend invited me to go to a dance hall with her and some of her friends. One of her friends—a blonde beauty queen (literally)—and I hit it off and started talking online over the next couple of days. It seemed obvious I’d be asking her on a date for this past weekend, until I suddenly came down with a bad cold.

I debated putting the whole thing on hold for a week, until my friend told me, “She said she is going to be ‘so hurt’ if you can’t take her out this weekend.” So I called her, asked her out, and resolved to use sheer willpower (and unhealthy doses of vitamins) to get better by Saturday. That Friday, while I was snorting lines of Vicks VapoRub off a mirror and mainlining antihistamines, she and our mutual friend went to a concert with a few of their other friends—This will come into play later in the story.

Come Saturday afternoon, I feel like I can probably fight my way through the date, but my nose is still running with more force than it took to carve the Grand Canyon. Fortunately, after taking enough antihistamines to tranquilize a horse and coating the inside of my nostrils with various soothing ointments, I manage to cut my nose blowing down to about once an hour, and I am officially ready to roll. The date goes relatively well. We abort our original plans after we realize road construction has the route to the Italian restaurant blocked by miles of traffic. We go for sushi instead. The food is good; the conversation is pleasant. After dinner we can’t find a quiet bar, so we settle for Starbucks. I take her back to her place where we visit for a few minutes, and then it’s time for me to go. I seldom kiss a girl on the first date (it strikes me as a tad presumptuous), but she seems to be giving me the signal, so I have to think fast. As if I’m not already self-conscious enough about kissing her for the first time, I’m pretty sure that if I do, she’s going to spend the next week under quarantine by the CDC.

I know she knows I’ve been sick, but she doesn’t seem to believe me that I still am. On the other hand, she has had fair warning, and I’m pretty sure she’s waving me in. Ah, screw it—I’m going for…NOPE, changed my mind—Going for the hug instead. Better safe than sorry. It was a fun date; I’ll save the kiss for later. She says something about possibly getting together during the week and asks me to text message her when I get home (both of which I interpret as good signs), and then I’m on my way.

I don’t call her the next day because…well…Everybody knows you don’t call the next day, and after years of trial and error, I’ve learned to quit bucking “everybody.” Monday morning I have a MySpace comment from her. I take that as another good sign. Then, Monday evening, as I’m wondering what would be the best time to call her, our mutual friend calls. And that’s when I get the Paul Harvey on the whole situation.

Apparently, when they went to that concert on Friday, my future date ran into an ex-flame she hadn’t seen in three years, and the two of them hit it off again. Apparently, he took her out on Sunday, the day after our date. And apparently, she'd just called our mutual friend to explain that the ex-flame still has her heart. She left it up to our friend to break the bad news to me.

Though it doesn’t make it any less frustrating, I am somewhat used to having the worst dating luck in the world. I mean, if I meet a gorgeous woman who seems fairly interested in me, it only makes sense that the night before our first date she should run into an ex-flame she hasn’t seen in THREE YEARS. That’s just par for the course. But on top of that, I’m left facing the criticisms she made about me to our friend.

First, she criticized me for not kissing her goodnight. Well, I think we all saw that one coming. Moving on. Second, she was upset I didn’t call the next day. Obviously, she doesn’t know the same “everybody” I do. Third, she said I wasn’t affectionate enough and didn’t seem very interested. I’m debating asking her to put this in writing so I can give it to the girl who dumped me a year ago for being too affectionate and acting like I liked her too much. Finally, she said that I was interesting but that it didn’t seem like we have much in common. And that, my friends, is the real pitfall that will plague my every first date from here to eternity.

NO WOMAN HAS VERY MUCH IN COMMON WITH ME! I try to dance around it when we’re talking about our interests, but the minute we start talking about our pasts, I know I’m in trouble. No matter how much I try to gloss over it, there’s just no way to make my past fit into the mold most women consciously or subconsciously idealize. Maybe if I told a pack of lies about how I played high school basketball and then spent a couple of years at Texas Tech before dropping out to go to work for my dad’s real estate firm, they’d all fall madly in love with me. Then I could just keep the correspondence high school and the failed film career and the years as a semi-professional skydiver as my dirty little secrets. Everyone thinks women want interesting guys, but that’s bullshit. What women want are guys who are familiar and comfortable to them. I’ve spent my whole life doing things only a handful of other people even attempt, so if I’m only allowed to date girls with whom I have a lot in common, I’m screwed. In fact, if I met a girl who shared my interests and experiences, that kind of bizarre coincidence would scare me. And for those of you who know me well, let me just assure you that I save the really unusual stuff for around date four or five. Most of them never know me long enough to get to the hard stuff.

Sure, women may find me an engaging conversationalist and an intriguing personality for a date or two, but eventually they find some guy who tells stories about his fraternity days and his company’s softball team, and weirdo skydiving filmmaker boy gets the boot.

So that’s why I am declaring here and now that I am on a strict diet of hookers and strip clubs until my income reaches such a level that I am able to attract a young, slender Eastern European lady interested in obtaining a green card. Goodbye, awkward goodnight kisses; hello, regular STD testing!

Clerks II

2006-07-14T23:38:00.000-07:00

Thursday night I attended the Austin premiere of Clerks II. The screening was followed by a Q&A with director Kevin Smith. Both the film and the Q&A, which lasted an hour longer than the film itself, were worth the inflated price of admission. Smith's lengthy and meandering answers to relatively simple questions were more entertaining than most standup comedy routines. From his thoughts on the new Superman movie (though he never mentioned it, most of the diehard fans populating the theater were well aware that Smith was hired to write the fifth Superman movie, before being fired by then director Tim Burton) to his description of actor Jason Mewes's unusual attachment to the motel room Mewes stayed in during the filming of Clerks II (having never had his own place before, Mewes took the opportunity to furnish his cheap motel room with a plethora of home decor items from Target), Smith had the audiences in stitches throughout most of the two and a half hour Q&A.

If you are a fan of Smith's 1994 breakthrough film Clerks, you definitely need to hit the theater next Friday (July 21) and check out Clerks II. I was skeptical that he could make a worthy sequel to his grainy, black and white indy hit, but after seeing it, I believe it's actually a notch above the original. Even if you've never seen Clerks or any of Smith's other "Askewniverse" films (the films featuring Jay and Silent Bob--Every Kevin Smith feature except Jersey Girl), you'll still probably enjoy Clerks II. That is assuming, of course, you like films that wrap a touching, relevant story around Gen-X pop cultural references and outrageously scatological humor that starts with a frank discussion of going "ass-to-mouth" and rolls downhill from there.

8 out of 10

SIDE NOTE: I'm not sure how much money Kevin Smith's previous six directorial efforts netted, but I'm going to go out on a limb and predict that with a budget of only five million dollars, this is going to be his most profitable film to date.

La Fiesta con Mi Amigos

2006-05-15T01:59:00.000-07:00

Friday evening my friend Vincent flew into town from San Diego for the graduation party of an old friend of ours. Vincent and I were part of a small, eclectic group that hung out together when we all attended Woodlawn Baptist Church in Austin, about five years ago. When I left Woodlawn I had just turned twenty-two. Tiffany, the recent college graduate and guest of honor at the party, was not quite seventeen at the time. That age range should give you an idea of the eclectic nature of this group.

For many churchgoers, church is a source of unity and social interaction that they’ve previously failed, for one reason or another, to find elsewhere in life. This is why many church social groups are an almost comedic “mixed bag” of personalities. For Vincent and I, our time at Woodlawn was a transitory phase that helped us through a period of life that most other people fill with college. When that phase was over, he moved back to California, and I moved on to other things. Likewise, the rest of our group split up and went their separate ways. When we got back together last November, for the first time in four years, to usher Ryan and Jessica, two members of our old group, into the world of matrimony, it was interesting to see how we’d all evolved.

I found it interesting that nobody was what I remembered, but I found it even more interesting that nobody was what I expected. The guy who used to chastise me for keeping beer in my fridge now worked the door at a bar. Several women whom I’d known only as sweet, innocent high school girls were now smoking and, after a few drinks, dropping occasional F-bombs. The group’s overall corruption was only one symptom of a larger adaptation into the real world. Life had rolled over any old pious ideals like a basketball over an overturned June bug.

I had a lot of fun the weekend of that wedding, so I was really looking forward to this party, but as we all know, the more you look forward to something, the more likely you are to be disappointed by it. This weekend was not a great disappointment; it just wasn’t what I’d hoped for.

Vincent flew in late Friday night and flew out early Sunday morning, so his stay was extremely short. The party was Saturday night, so we’d originally planned to find some activity to do together during the day Saturday. We thought he and Ryan and I might play golf, or something along those lines. Instead, by the time he arrived, he’d made plans with about a half dozen people to get together on Saturday, so we never really got to hang out much.

He flew into San Antonio and spent Friday night with me in San Marcos. The party was in San Antonio, so we took separate cars (my truck and his rental car) to the party so that he could just fly out the next morning. The drive to the party was where I first started to suspect the evening might not live up to my expectations.

I was all dressed up for this black and white affair, driving down Interstate 35, when I decided my lips felt a little chapped. I grabbed the tube of Blistex I keep in the console, unscrewed the lid, and watched it erupt like a science fair volcano. Apparently, spending all day in a hot car does strange things to Blistex.

At this point I’m somewhere in New Braunfels, Vincent is following me, and I have melted petroleum jelly all over my slacks. I grab a water bottle and some tissues out of the back seat and start trying to dab up this oily mess, but all I’m doing is spreading the mess around and getting tissue lint all over my pants.

I try to signal to Vincent that I’m exiting the free way, but he doesn’t catch on, so I basically abandon him, drive into New Braunfels, find a CVS pharmacy, buy a bottle of OxyClean and a dishtowel, and start cleaning the mess off my lap. The OxyClean seems to be doing the trick, and I’m starting to feel a little better, when I skillfully manage to spill half the bottle of water onto my lap. My objective then changes from removing the Blistex spots with the OxyClean to drying my pants with the cheap, non-absorbent dishtowel.

I finally get my pants dried off, only to realize they are now completely covered in lint. I go back into the pharmacy, purchase a lint roller, and come outside to roll the lint off my pants. As luck would have it, there is now a woman blocking my truck door with her shopping cart, so I squeeze into my truck and quickly back it into another parking spot, forgetting about the open bottle of water sitting on the floorboard.

Now the rest of the water is pooled on the driver’s side floorboard. Fortunately, the non-absorbent towel makes a pretty good squeegee. After mopping up the floorboard, I roll the lent off of my pants and, surprisingly, find that I look none the worse for wear.

Back on the road, I call Vincent, who has just gotten back on the freeway after pulling over and waiting for me for several minutes. I tell him to slow down and wait for me to catch up. After several minutes of not catching up to him, I call him and ask how fast he’s going. He’s doing seventy. He’s supposed to be following me, but he’s a mile ahead of me, doing seventy miles per hour. Our exit is in three miles, so theoretically, I need to be doing about ninety-five to overtake him before he reaches it. After explaining this, he agrees to slow down a tad more. I catch him before the exit, and we make it to the party just fine.

The party location is great. It’s a big African themed party house in Southwest San Antonio. There is no shortage of free food and alcohol. Inside there is a nice bar area for mingling, as well as a pool table and a foosball table, and outside there is a DJ and a driveway that’s been setup as a dance floor.

Tiffany and the other two girls hosting the party are all young and attractive, and they have a bunch of young, attractive friends, and I’m eager to mingle and meet people. This is where I run into my second snag. It is only now, after five years of friendship, that I realize Ryan, Jessica, and Vincent, with whom I'm attending the party, are the three least social people on the planet.

I’m usually not the most social guy at parties, but compared to them, I’m a party animal. All I want is one or two friends to wander around with me and talk to people, but the only time they take a break from huddling in their small, isolated group is when they go play another game of foosball. So once again, as so many times before, I find myself spending a party with little to do but people watch. Don’t get me wrong—I enjoy people watching. In fact, people watching constitutes 90% of my informal training in philosophy. But on occasion, rather than play the roll of the brooding intellectual, I prefer to just chat up an attractive woman.

I normally consider myself an excellent conversationalist, but nothing takes me off my “A” game like loud music and strobe lights. Despite this, I can usually manage to converse somewhat intelligibly in a party setting, but this particular night my conversation skills have been completely shut off by the evening’s earlier frustrations. Therefore, when I do manage to talk to a couple of people, I’m basically a rambling buffoon.

This is when I decide to take desperate action. I need a quick shot in the arm that’ll both lighten my own mood and introduce me to the rest of the partygoers. I am a man of few talents, so this leaves me with basically two options—I can take off my shoes and pants, slide across the dance floor in my socks and underwear, and do the Risky Business dance or….

When you’re the only person on the dance floor, you can actually hear the crowd’s progression from confusion as to why the DJ is playing “Bad” to amused delight that there is a skinny white guy doing a somewhat impressive Michael Jackson impression. I’m not saying I’m the world’s best moonwalker, but I will say I didn’t have any more trouble meeting people that evening.

Yes, the crowd was delighted with my tongue-in-cheek dance routine, but the evening was not without one last serious damper. Remember when I said the dance floor was actually the driveway? Well, caught up in the moment of being “Bad,” I forgot this fact, and after going down in the splits about three times in the course of my Michael Jackson moves, I’d managed to destroy a $300 pair of dress shoes that I’ll be needing next weekend when I attend the biggest real estate convention of the year (the International Council of Shopping Centers national convention in Las Vegas). So this morning, after leaving my friend’s apartment in San Antonio, I killed about ninety minutes looking at real estate and then ran into Nordstrom’s and dropped $300 to replace what had been, twelve hours earlier, a like-new pair of shoes.

I can’t blame Vincent for wanting to see his family and other friends while he was in town, and God knows I’ve played the antisocial partygoer more than a few times in my life, so I can’t get mad at my friends about that, but it really is frustrating when events like this don’t live up to your expectations. And it certainly doesn’t help matters when Murphy’s Law keeps popping up at every opportunity. But in a few hours I’ll wake up to a Monday just like every other Monday, and except for a bank account that’s somewhat more depleted from unexpected shoe purchases and dry cleaning bills, the events of this weekend will most likely have very little impact on the rest of my life. So que sera, sera.

A Passing Encounter

2006-05-08T10:46:00.000-07:00

I passed an old friend on the street today,
And despite myself I stopped and waved.
Though I knew I should just walk on by,
I chanced a glance and caught his eye.
He stopped and looked me up and down,
And I saw him smile to mask a frown.
As he stared at me with eyes open wide,
I remembered the way this good friend died--
His breath cut short by my own two hands,
When I killed the boy to become a man.

~W.S.L.

No More Seasonal Goods

2006-04-26T23:36:00.000-07:00

It’s 12:37 AM, which means it is officially thirty-seven minutes into April 27, 2006. April 27, 2006, doesn’t mean much to most people, but to me it’s the last day of the worst year of my life. I thought about putting this blog post off until Friday, in the hopes that maybe the next couple of days would bring me something positive to write about, but I think this is as good a time as any. It’s about forty minutes after midnight, and I’m sitting in front of my overworked computer in my tiny office in my hail battered mobile home in Martindale, TX, drinking a Jack and Coke. The Coke is a definite improvement over a year ago tonight, when I was drinking shots of Jack Daniel’s straight from the bottle. I started that evening using a shot glass, but somewhere around the point where my recollection gets pretty fuzzy, I distinctly remember drinking straight from the bottle.

On April 28, 2005, the fantasy world I’d enjoyed for the preceding twenty months was upset by a sweet young girl who decide I was not the man for her. After five days of fretting (and drinking more heavily than usual) over whether or not I was going to loose her, she broke my heart and shattered the illusion that I could happily grow old living a life that revolved jumping out of airplanes. Over the next few months, I lost interest in skydiving, lost contact with old friends, and struggled to form a new perspective on what it means to be a responsible, mature adult.

About four months after the breakup, on August 25, I made a blog post titled “Seasonal Goods.” It used the changing items on the seasonal goods wall at the grocery store as a metaphor for the changes in my life. I followed it up about four months later, on December 21, with “Seasonal Goods II,” which explored the continuing changes in my life. The first “Seasonal Goods” post opened by talking about how excited I’d been to see water guns and Slip ‘N Slides on the seasonal goods wall last April and ended by wondering where I’d be the next time I saw water guns on that wall. About three weeks ago I saw the Easter decorations, which always immediately precede the water guns, on that wall and got the idea that it would be a fun idea for this third “Seasonal Goods” post to take a picture of myself in front of the new stock of water guns on the same seasonal goods wall that inspired the first post. Last Saturday I walked into that old grocery store in Austin, ready to befuddle some poor stock boy by asking him to take a picture of me standing in front of a wall of water toys. But the seasonal goods wall was gone. In the two weeks since my last visit, the store had been completely remodeled. There is no more seasonal goods wall.

At first I found this more than a little frustrating, but as I thought about it, I came to realize what a perfect metaphor it is. Life is unpredictable. Never assume that something will be today what it was yesterday or that it’ll be tomorrow what it is today. You cannot always extrapolate your future from your past. Life throws curve balls—That’s what it does. You’d better be able to hit the changeup if you want to play in the majors.

Ever since I made the first “Seasonal Goods” post, I’d hoped this “a year later” post would be about how great my life is now. That was the screenwriter in me. We get frustrated when we can’t plug things into a succinct formula. The truth is, the last year has been shit. I’ve gone from a life full of excitement and friends to a life full of boredom and loneliness. I’ve had enough stuff to go wrong in the last two weeks of this year to depress me almost as much as I was in the first two weeks. But what the hell—I couldn’t script better bookending than that. So I’m drinking this Jack and Coke in toast to the two banks that are trying to fuck me over, the Biblical hail storm that destroyed my house and truck, and the girl who never called back. You have all joined every other setback from this past year in the list of things that will make me into the man I have the potential to be. And here is to the sport that brought me so many good years, followed by so much sorrow, the industry that crushed my idealism, the friends from whom I’ve drifted apart, and the girl who broke my heart. I wouldn’t trade any of you for all the real estate commissions in the world.

The other day I came across a quote I really like—“Get knocked down seven times; pick yourself up eight.” Like Chumbawamba said, “You’re never gonna keep me down.” I’ve quit 90% of the endeavors I’ve undertaken in my short twenty-six years, but I’m not quitting this. To paraphrase a philosophy I adopted in my late teens, when I was making a lot of unorthodox life and career choices, “Don’t just try to beat life—Beat it into submission; then fuck it up the ass.”

“See you in Hell, Johnny.”

Hang Up and Live! / A Space for the Socially Lazy

2006-04-06T21:49:00.000-07:00

I've combined "Hang Up and Live!" and "A Space for the Socially Lazy" into one post:

The other day, while putting my abs through the paces at the gym, a very attractive young woman came into the aerobics room and started doing stretches next to me. We were the only two people in the room, and I was eager to strike up a conversation, so I turned to her and said, "I noticed when you were on the treadmill earlier that your right breast bounces about two inches higher than your left." At this point she stopped mid-stretch and gave me a brief, quizzical glance. Her confusion wasn't because of what I'd just said; it was because she hadn't heard what I'd just said because she was listening to an MP3 player, LIKE EVERY OTHER PERSON ON THE PLANET!

To be honest, only the first part of the preceding anecdote actually happened. The attractive woman did walk into the aerobics room and start stretching next to me, and we were the only two people in the room, and I did want to strike up a conversation with her, but she was listening to her MP3 player, so I never got the chance.

This minor incident finally brought to the forefront of my mind the reality that we, as a society, have completely walled ourselves off with technology. And the most significant footnote of this realization was the understanding that this is making it increasingly difficult for me to meet women. Every woman at the gym is listening to an MP3 player. Every woman at the grocery store is talking on a cell phone. In fact, nearly all of the places where casual encounters (and I'm using that term in the traditional sense, not the twisted AdultFriendFinder.com sense) once occurred have been tainted by technology.

I consider myself an above average, if somewhat idiosyncratic, conversationalist, and I feel relatively confident in my ability to engage an intelligent woman in a compelling discussion; however, I currently lack the ability to speak to any woman without first overcoming a number of very prohibitive technological obstacles. If I try to speak to a woman who's listening to her iPod at the gym, her immediate reaction is to stop what she's doing, take out her earphones, and say, "Excuse me?" That's if she's polite. If not, I can look forward to the always ladylike, "Huh?" By the time she has gone to the effort of removing her earphones and asking me to repeat myself, I'd better be telling her that the building is on fire or that she has a rattlesnake in her hair, or her first impression of me is going to be annoyance that I made her stop what she was doing so that I could repeat some trivial, off-the-cuff pleasantry. If she's on a cell phone, the scenario is even worse because now I'm the rude asshole who just interrupted her twenty-minute conversation that surely would have led to peace in the Middle East, had I not broken her train of thought.

Because of this trend, many of us find ourselves completely isolated in even the most crowded surroundings. Fortunately for all of us, the gods of technology have stepped up to fill the social void left by technology's own shortcomings. Behold, the gods give us online social networking (AKA MySpace). Why waste your time meeting one or two people a week in the real world, where you might actually be expected to converse intelligibly and get to know someone, when you can browse through millions of profiles online, narrow them down to only those people who meet your absolute ideals in every category from height to musical preference, and then converse with these people, comfortable in the knowledge that no matter how long you know them, circumstances will never force your conversations beyond banal small talk? Why risk real life, where conversations can be tainted by dodgy subjects like religion and politics, when you can have an online life, where conversations have been replaced by the exchange of funny video clips and mindless surveys?

MySpace is a great concept, but like another great concept, Communism, it fails in practice because of the shortcomings of human nature. It's supposed to make it easier to communicate with friends, but instead of communication, what you get from your friends are chain letter surveys about your favorite food and color, funny videos that would make Bob Saget cringe, and glittery, blinking messages that say things like, "TGIF!" It's supposed to make it easier to find dates, but what it really does is allow people to make decisions based on superficial criteria, absent any real communication or face-to-face interaction. MySpace fails in its intended functions because human nature always seeks the easy way out. If we can have friends without thought, effort, or real emotion, we will. If we can avoid awkward conversations with potential suitors and base our dating choices on beach photos and lists of favorite bands, we will. If we have the choice between working very hard to form a few real, meaningful relationships or forming a lot of shallow relationships without working at it at all, we'll generally choose the option that requires less work.

What MySpace does accomplish is a database of personal information that would have made the KGB envious. Most people would be blown away if they knew how much personal information can be found online about someone, simply by knowing his or her name, birth date, and city of residence. Many MySpace accounts include a lot more information than that (i.e., city of birth; list of schools attended, with a breakdown of the years attended; past and present places of employment, with a breakdown of the years employed; names of family members; etc).

There are a lot of bored, lonely people out there, and to many of them, MySpace looks like the cure for what ails them. If you really doubt people are bored and lonely, look at online dating services, which comprise a $700 million a year industry. MySpace is the fastest spreading new drug in a society that's starved for human interaction but walled off by technology.

Anyone who knows me knows I'm not anti-technology. What I am is anti-isolationism. We should not be so afraid of spending some small portion of our day alone or bored or without stimulation that we consume ourselves with technology to the point that it becomes the box in which we live. I could say more about how far society has drifted from the true concept of friendship and meaningful relationships, but that topic is much bigger than the pitfalls of technology, so I'll save it for another time. Until then, hang up and live.

One of THOSE Days

2006-03-16T18:24:00.000-08:00

My plans for today were simple.

1. Wake up.
2. Study my ass off for the state real estate exam which I'm taking tomorrow morning.
3. Work out.

Of the three, the only one I accomplished was waking up, and I've spent the rest of the day wishing I hadn't even done that.

I woke up at 8:30, walked the fifty feet from my bedroom to my office, and sat down at my computer, ready for a full day of studying for the state exam. It was then that I realized my computer was off, despite the fact I always leave it on. I assumed I must have had a power failure in the middle of the night, but nothing else was off.

I press the power button, but nothing happens. I then check the power cable, but it's fine. The surge protector is getting power. What the hell is the problem? I open up the computer, and that's when I smell it. Smoke. I can smell the distinct odor of burning electrical components coming from the computer's power supply unit.

Without my desktop, I can't work. And without a computer, I can't study. Fortunately, I still have my laptop, which will at least run one of my two study programs. I jump on my laptop and order a replacement power supply unit for my computer. At about 1/4 the cost of completely replacing the computer, I hope that's the ONLY thing that burned up. I get the order in just in time to have it ship the same day and arrive tomorrow (Friday). About two hours later I get an email from Sony--My credit card was declined. DAMN! I forgot I did a bunch of shopping on that card this weekend. Now it's too late to get the part until Monday, but I still have to get it reordered because I'm out of business until that computer is working. As I'm trying to reorder, using a different credit card, my laptop crashes. Maybe it crashed because it's old and glitchy or maybe it crashed because I kept getting pissed at it for being old and glitch and hitting it--Who knows? The point is, I am, at this point, without a way to work, a way to study, and a way to order a replacement part. I call my dad and talk him through the process of placing the order for me. That basically involves us yelling at each other for thirty minutes because neither of us handle stress well, and until we close the development deals we're currently working and get some money in the bank, we're perpetually stressed. I finally get the replacement part ordered about 3:00 PM. After finally eating lunch, I try using my textbook to study for the test, but after about 45 minutes of studying, I fall asleep because I'm already mentally exhausted. I wake up about 6:30 PM, with my eyes so swollen from allergies that my vision is blurred. Now I'm at Kinko's checking my email and writing this blog post, which I'll only get to proof once (sacrilege!) because it's costing me $0.20/minute to use this computer.

The sad thing is, I thought I was past the point of letting stuff like this stress me out to the point of loosing my temper and/or rendering me so depressed I can't work, but obviously I'm not quiet there yet. I'm sorry if this isn't as eloquent as most of my posts, but it's been a really long day.

FOLLOWUP: Friday went much better. I aced my real estate exam and got home from the test just in time for the UPS man to deliver the computer part I wasn't expecting until Monday.

Superman II: WTF?

2006-03-15T21:47:00.000-08:00

So I'm sitting here watching Superman II on HBO, either because it's one of those films I loved as a child or because I relate to movies about guys who hurtle through the sky in tights, and I'm slowly coming to the realization that this has to be one of the most ridiculous, cobbled together movies ever made. Let's ignore for a moment that Superman and the super villains repeatedly fly to the North Pole at apparently supersonic speeds with people hanging on their backs. Let's ignore that Superman talks about playing a game at school on Krypton (his birth planet), even though the movie opens with him coming to Earth as a baby. Let's even ignore that he throws a big cellophane Superman logo at one of the villains for no apparent reason. There is only one thing I really want to know.

There is a scene in the middle of the movie where Superman has decided he wants to become a human being because...Well, I'm not entirely sure, but I think it is has something to do with wanting to have sex with Lois Lane without killing her. Anyway, he enters a molecule chamber where he is exposed to the rays of the red Krypton sun and turned into a normal person. Now, here is my question: When the molecule chamber turns him into a human, WHY DOES IT ALSO CHANGE HIS CLOTHES? As we watch his body go through the transformation, we also see his clothes transformed from his Superman costume into a pair of tight black slacks and a white button down shirt with a butterfly collar. How did a bad 70s ensemble get into a molecule chamber designed thousands of years ago on another planet? The last time we saw Krypton, everyone was wearing luminescent jumpsuits and playing with crystals--It didn't strike me as a planet permeated by disco culture. I won't even go into the way his hairstyle changes in the molecule chamber because I still haven't figured out how his hair changes every time he changes from Clark Kent into Superman. You never see Clark Kent sprint down the street, rip open his shirt, and then whip out a pocket mirror and restyle his hair.

Now that I think about it, this movie never really made sense to me as a kid, either. But the beauty of being a kid is that you generally don't care if movies make sense or not. Oh well--I may be too old to overlook glaring holes in the film's logic, but I still get a little of that childhood tingle down my spine every time I watch Superman ask General Zod if he'd "care to step outside."

Generation X Filmmakers

2006-02-26T22:01:00.000-08:00

The lines that divide generations are fuzzy at best--No clear dates separate the Baby Boomer Generation from Generation X or Generation X from Generation Y. My birth date falls smack dab in the middle of the fuzzy border between Generation X and Generation Y, so I generally describe myself as being part of the XY Generation. However, when I'm forced to choose, I feel that I relate more closely to Generation X than Generation Y. So for the purposes of this statement, I ask you to accept without argument my status as both a Gen-X-er and a filmmaker.

It's been said that nearly every Gen-X filmmaker points to one of two movies as the catalyst behind his or her involvement in film production--Jaws (1975) or Star Wars (1977). Though I can distinctly remember the moment my dad told me that giant shark was really a robot and my fascination with movie magic was born, I don't think there's any denying Star Wars was probably an equally influential force (no pun intended) on this young, aspiring filmmaker.

February 1984

Zen and the Art of Skydiving

2006-02-21T01:14:00.000-08:00

My knowledge of philosophy is so embarrassingly limited that the probability of anything I say on the subject being an original thought is immeasurably low. Therefore, in any of my writings, you can assume any philosophical statements I make mirror earlier, greater minds, whether I realized it when I made the statements or not. For the purposes of this Chautauqua, however, I intend to deliberately borrow a handful of ideas from Robert M. Pirsig's cult classic Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. I'm also going to borrow his use of the word "Chautauqua."

The subject of this Chautauqua will be the self-destruction of the recreational skydiver. In my seven and a half years in the sport of skydiving, I have seen recreational skydivers come and go, but I've seen only a handful "go the distance," so to speak. I believe there is an underlying force at work behind this turnover, beyond the skydivers themselves, the nature of sport, and traditional outside forces (work, school, family, etc).

To get to the root of this cycle, we must first examine the average person's motivation for skydiving. Most people have the same motivation for their first jumps--They are looking for excitement. I think it's reasonable to assume that the seeking of excitement indicates a perceived shortage of excitement in their lives. And "perceived shortage of excitement," better known by its nom de plume "boredom," is the real heart of this issue. People are bored with a culture, a society, and a world that never looks beyond earning an education, getting a good job, finding a mate, raising a family, and staying out of trouble. They are never offered any higher objective than this laundry list of chores.

If boredom brings them to the drop zone to make their first jumps, what motivates them to spend time and money on training and keep coming back weekend after weekend to become recreational skydivers? I believe this is where skydiving takes on a roll akin to a religion, in the hierarchy of most fledgling skydivers' values. Skydiving appears to offer an alternative to the culture with which they've grown so bored.

Much like a religion, skydiving offers an escape from the traditional views of success. It doesn't matter to their fellow skydivers how much money they have or what kind of work they do or what kind of cars they drive. What is important to their fellow skydivers is the common bond of skydiving.

Skydiving also offers acceptance without adherence to the status quo. Skydivers do not hold each other to the same standards commonly accepted by the outside world. Among skydivers, nobody expects you to be in college simply because you are nineteen-years-old and everyone knows nineteen-year-olds go to college. Nobody expects you to be married simply because you are forty-years-old and everyone knows forty-year-olds are married. Nobody expects you to behave like a prude simply because you are a corporate executive and everyone knows a good executive never engages in anything that might appear distasteful. Fledgling skydivers encounter an acceptance that supersedes the acceptance found in most major religions because they are never judged on any criteria outside the realm of jumping out of airplanes.

Skydiving also gives fledgling skydivers the feeling of being involved in something larger than themselves. Suddenly they have a tangible goal beyond earning an education, getting a good job, finding a mate, raising a family, and staying out of trouble. In a sense, the fledgling skydiver soon finds that skydiving has become his purpose in life.

Unfortunately, this newfound purpose eventually fails most recreational skydivers. Skydiving fails in this roll because, contrary to its first impression, it is not an alternative to the world they despise.

Most skydivers are faced with a dilemma in that they still rely on the world they left behind to sustain them. Man cannot live by air alone. These same skydivers, no longer fledglings but now covered with bright feathers and able to fly on their own, now find themselves torn between the world of their purpose and the world of their paychecks. This can topple the house of cards in one of two ways--The skydiver can accept that continuing to follow this purpose will eventually ruin him and reluctantly withdraw from skydiving, or he can choose to try to sustain himself on this purpose by becoming a professional skydiver. Either way, the recreational skydiver is gone. And for those who choose the path of professional skydiving, they find it long and hard and nothing like the joyful existence they came to know as fledgling skydivers.

If resources are not an issue, these same skydivers soon find that the world of skydiving is not as different as they once imagined. Deep at its heart, skydiving contains everything they hated about the outside world but exponentially magnified in intensity, like a laser beam directed at this tiny subculture. They soon find themselves entwined in soap operatic levels of politics and drama, the likes of which the outside world would never allow. And for many, this is enough to kill the recreational skydiver.

At the heart of every failure of this pseudo-religion is its basic philosophic flaw, the reason that even a skydiver who can sustain himself without help from the outside world and endure the living soap opera cannot continue forever on the back of this newfound purpose--Skydiving is not actually an alternative to the outside world; rather, it is freedom from the outside world. And freedom is a "negative" goal--It is a vacuum that must be filled. At its root, the skydiving lifestyle is freedom (often bordering on degeneracy, to borrow from Pirsig's evaluation of the hippie movement) that offers an escape from the "real world" without offering anywhere to escape to. Jumping out of perfectly good airplanes is fun recreation, but it is not an alternative to the world around us.

Perhaps more skydivers would "go the distance" if, as fledgling jumpers, they didn't look to skydiving for purpose but instead looked at it as just one more area in which to seek the Quality most people fail to seek in any aspect of their lives. "Quality" is Pirsig's term, but I think it fits. It's the indescribable point at which the romantic and the classic meet, where form meets function. It's a goal above both the pursuit of a laundry list of chores and the pursuit of aesthetic beauty, the point at which these two empty objectives meet to form a whole greater than the sum of its parts. But I digress. If you want to know about Pirsig's philosophy, buy the book. My point is that skydiving fails not because it's something we use to fill a void in our lives but because it's a void we use to replace the things we don't like about our lives. And as any student of high school physics can tell you, a vacuum (aka a void) cannot sustain itself. As goes the void, so goes the purpose, and as goes the purpose, so go so many disenchanted recreational skydivers who thought they'd found something better, only to realize too late that they'd staked all of their hopes and dreams on nothing at all.

Are We Having Fun Yet?

2006-02-20T14:08:00.000-08:00

I have long held the belief, inherited from my father, that most people in modern American culture do not know how to have fun. I don't believe this problem is unique to modern American culture; I am simply not familiar enough with past or foreign cultures to pass judgment on them. (I do, however, remember watching a family playing in a river outside a small shanty, as I passed through the borderline third world, semi-Communist country of Belarus, and thinking that perhaps the trappings of our society leave us a bit more susceptible to this problem.) I am not suggesting that modern Americans never have fun; I am suggesting that when real fun manages to creep into our lives, it catches most of us completely by surprise.

Before I continue, it is probably necessary to carefully define fun, so as to avoid any confusion. I believe existing dictionaries fall short in their definitions of fun, so I will create my own. For these purposes, we will define fun as "the resulting sense of amusement and enjoyment created and sustained by an action or activity." This allows us to differentiate between fun and pleasure, which, as the second definition in Webster's explains, is simply "a state of gratification."

A clear differentiation between fun and pleasure is necessary to this argument because it is my assertion that the first pitfall most Americans fall into in their search for fun is mistaking pleasure for fun. As evidence of this, you need look no further than alcohol. Why is alcohol a staple in so many so-called "fun" activities in our culture? I believe, quite often, it is because these activities are not actually fun at all. These activities alone offer little or no sense of amusement and enjoyment, and we rely on an endorphin rush from the alcohol coursing through our veins to leave us in a chemically induced state of gratification.

I ascertain that there is nothing inherently fun about bars. Though the excuse usually given for hanging out in bars is "socializing," most bars are actually quite prohibitive to socializing. The noise level is generally prohibitive to natural conversation, the air quality is usually so low as to cause many people discomfort, and lighting conditions most often inhibit nonverbal communication, which is crucial to human interaction. In fact, the only argument an intelligent person can make for bars as a suitable outlet for socializing is the presence of alcohol. Most people in our society are so naturally inhibited that they feel they are unable to open up to friends and acquaintances without the presence of alcohol. Unfortunately for that argument, much of the "loosening" effect of alcohol has been shown by recent studies to be a placebo effect. Control groups in social settings were provided either traditional alcoholic beer or non-alcoholic beer, and then the interactions within the groups were carefully monitored. Thinking they were all receiving traditional alcoholic beer, the participants in both sets of groups gradually became more relaxed and began socializing in virtually the EXACT SAME WAY.

Sadly, this dependence on intoxicating beverages often extends beyond the depressing dimness of the bars to activities that should actually be fun. For instance, a social circle begins to so identify alcohol with "fun" that they feel the need to have a bottomless supply of alcohol onboard the boat when spending a day on the lake. With or without alcohol, a day on the lake can result in a great sense of amusement and enjoyment, whether wakeboarding, fishing, or simply trolling along looking at the scenery. If anything, the inebriating, dehydrating effects of alcohol impair the enjoyment of these otherwise fun activities. Unfortunately, the social circle long ago equated the instant endorphin rush of alcohol with "fun."

Just below alcohol in the hierarchy of the pleasure versus fun dilemma is food. Good food can certainly be pleasurable, but it does not, by itself, equal fun. By this same logic, some might argue that music and thrill seeking activities should also be ruled out as "not really fun." And to an extent, I would have to agree. None of these activities, in and of themselves, are fun. But they can all be utilized as the building blocks of fun activities.

Though the presence of alcohol does not make an otherwise unpleasant activity (hanging out at a bar) truly fun, attending a wine tasting can be fun. Though good food alone isn't fun, preparing good food can be fun, and sharing a good meal with friends can be fun. Thrill seeking, in itself, may be little more than a trigger for endorphins, but honing one's skill at a thrilling sport and sharing this experience with friends can be fun. Music itself is not necessarily fun, but creating music can certainly be fun, and attending an engaging concert can be fun.

In this discussion, I prefer to avoid the subjective nature of fun. Obviously one man's trash is another man's treasure. My uneducated opinion is that the objective determination of whether a something is fun or simply pleasurable can be determined by asking oneself, "Am I experiencing enjoyment and amusement through engaged, active participation, or am I simply experiencing a heightened sense of gratification due to outside stimuli?"

I believe the second pitfall of most fun seekers is a problem of mythos. Our society holds to too many deep-seated myths about what is and is not fun. Most of these myths glorify activities that, when put under the microscope, really aren't much fun at all. I challenge anyone to explain to me what about Disneyworld is fun for anyone over the age of ten. Why do we think paying sixty dollars a person to spend all day standing in lines for bad, overpriced food; poorly made, overpriced trinkets; and rides that were outdated twenty years ago is fun? We think it is fun because society tells us it is! You can only hear the trademarked slogan "The happiest place on Earth" so many times before you start to believe it.

Another of the great myths of fun is the notion that a group or social circle is necessary before fun can occur. On the contrary, large groups are often a retarding force in the pursuit of fun. Too many personalities and ideas about the nature of fun often lead to disagreements about the best way to pursue fun. When you are struggling to find fun, sometimes the best solution is to extricate yourself from the crowd and find it on your own.

The third pitfall we encounter in our search for fun is our own laziness. We want instant gratification without effort. This goes hand-in-hand with the second pitfall. Somewhere in our past, a myth evolved that if it requires work, it can't be fun. If anything, the opposite is true. Like most worthwhile endeavors in life, the pursuit of fun often involves work. Lying face down on a massage table in the belly of a cruise ship may be pleasurable, but it cannot be fun. At the same time, hiking the Appalachian Trail may be hard work, but it can also be a lot of fun.

The fourth (but not necessarily final) pitfall we encounter is lack of vision. Most of us go through our daily lives without seeing the fun all around us. We get so hung up on grand visions of fun, such as exotic vacations, expensive hobbies, and lavish nights out on the town, that we fail to see the fun closer to home. We never think outside the box of our preconceived notions of how to have fun. Do you sit around the house and complain that there is nothing to do, even though you're only a few minutes drive from a nature preserve, an art gallery, a paintball field, and a bowling alley, none of which you've ever visited?

If we are to solve this dilemma of fun, we must first stop confusing fun and pleasure. Pleasure certainly has its place in our lives, but we must not be so naïve as to mistake it for fun. We must second learn to determine for ourselves what is and is not fun. We must stop letting the myths of our culture define fun for us. The third step toward a truer understanding of fun is overcoming our own laziness. We must be prepared to work if we want to have fun. And fourth, we must think outside the proverbial box. We must accept that we do not have to have fun today in the same way we had fun yesterday.

Fun is inherent to our psychological wellbeing as humans. I have little doubt that by collectively loosing sight of the nature of fun, we are contributing to the declining mental health of our nation. We should not become so hung up on fun that we make a god out of it and forsake all other pursuits in its name, but owe it to ourselves and our posterity to reach a higher understanding of what fun is and how we can experience it.

Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

2006-02-20T02:26:00.000-08:00

If you ever want to turn your mind to mush in a period of about thirty-six hours, spend an entire weekend locked in your house reading philosophy.

I had no plans and no prospects for this cold, gloomy weekend, so I decided to stay home and crank out Robert M. Pirsig's cult classic Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. I started it a few years ago, during my starving artist days, as I was reaching a peak of both depression and philosophical curiosity, but life got in the way, and I never finished it. Sitting around pondering life on a dreary Saturday morning, I decided to give it another try.

I quickly discovered that three hundred eighty pages of philosophy takes considerably more time to read than a three hundred eighty page novel or a three hundred eighty page book on filmmaking or real estate. But I was worried that if I didn't finish it this weekend, life would get in the way again, and I might never finish it, so I set a goal to finish it by tonight and stuck to it.

To its credit, the book is very interesting and fairly enlightening. Making the reading slow going were its highly intricate nature and sometimes dry style. But overall, I thought it was a very interesting inquiry into values (as the cover promises) that both gave insight into the changing values of the mid-1970s and applied almost flawlessly to the question of value in the mid-2000s.

If you've never read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance and are interested in reading one man's perspective on late twentieth century values and their relation to ancient philosophies, you should give it a chance. I do, however, suggest giving yourself a little more time to read it. I've concluded that philosophy probably shouldn't be rushed. Over my last few hours of reading, bizarre, completely unrelated images randomly flashed through my head, and I must conclude that this type of crash intellectualizing is probably better left to college kids who have developed a tolerance for such approaches to learning.

Late night hallucinations aside, my weekend of philosophy was quite a unique experience, and I'm glad I found a more useful way to spend my time than playing on the computer or veging out in front of the TV (though I did take occasional short breaks for both). It's not something I'll probably do again for a while, but I think it was beneficial to my perpetual goal of bettering myself, so I consider it time well spent (even if it did keep me up much later than I wanted to be up on a Sunday night).

Real Estate

2006-02-17T12:50:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I finished my seventh real estate course. It was the last course I had to complete before I can take the state exam. Before I start the arduous task of studying for the state exam (Most people have to take it more than once), I thought I'd take just a moment to break down for my friends and family what exactly I've been doing for a living for the last three years and what exactly I'll be doing from now own.

Aside from a few other technical tasks, such as maintaining the website for Lewis Commercial Realty, Inc., this has basically been my job since 2003:

The developers and brokers give me a lot survey that looks something like this:

If a get a copy this clean, I'm ecstatic. Often it's a blurry faxed copy so covered in survey lines that I have to spend an hour just cleaning it.

I then draw buildings, parking, drives, and curb cuts on the site plan, to give the developers and brokers an idea of how big a building and how much parking will fit on the lot. They respond with a list of changes they'd like to see to my site plan (some minor, some major), and I do a second draft, third draft, etc., until they're satisfied.

These changes were relatively minor.

When I have a final draft the developers and brokers are happy with, they use it to attract prospective tenants to the new development.

My final draft is also sent to an architect who uses my draft as a guide for the official architectural drafts.

Sometimes the architectural drafts vary a great deal from my final draft, and sometimes, as in this case, they look almost identical.

While the architect is preparing the architectural drafts, I use my final draft in the creation of marketing packages used to attract prospective tenants.

That's what I've been doing for the last three years. Once I'm licensed, I'll be focusing more on the duties of a leasing/sales agent. There are three places for a leasing/sales agent to earn commissions in the development of this type of commercial property.

1. The agent can broker the sale of the land to the developer.
2.The agent can broker leases with the tenants who will occupy the development once it is built.
3. The agent can broker the sale of the development to a third party, once it is occupied by tenants.

My primary job will be leasing. In this type of transaction, the developers make a profit by selling the development for a price higher than their cost to build it. They are able to sell it for a higher price because the presence of rent paying tenants makes the development an income producing property; therefore, its sale prices is based on the capitalization rate (anticipated rate of return from the rent paid by the tenants), rather than the replacement cost of the building. Without a leasing agent, the developers have no tenants, and without tenants, the developers are unlikely to realize a substantial profit from the sale of the development.

So that's the game plan for now. I hope to eventually make the transition to developer so that I can chase the big bucks. In the meantime, I'll enjoy having a job, earning a living, and having the flexibility to pursue my other interests (filmmaking, etc).

Battles, Adventures, and Beauties

2006-02-17T00:26:00.000-08:00

In recent years, famed Christian author and speaker John Eldredge has built an empire on one simple (some argue overly simple) thesis: "Deep in his heart, every man longs for a battle to fight, an adventure to live, and a beauty to rescue." I've never read any of Eldredge's books (though I have read articles both supporting and opposing his views), but for these purposes I think that is just as well because I'd prefer to sidestep the religious connotations of this particular theory and examine it from a more worldly perspective.

Are we, as a society, perpetually unfulfilled in our lives because our minds, bodies, and souls are hardwired for something more? I read an article in the late '90s that attributed the growing popularity of extreme sports to a human desire to meet an evolutionary need for danger, traditionally filled by the inherent dangers in a much less certain world. According to that article, in the absence of constant war and a never-ending battle against the elements, our modern lives are missing a piece of the primal puzzle. If that line of thinking is correct, much of the emptiness in our modern lives can be attributed to the fact that we now attain the fundamentals too easily. How many of us today have to struggle to find food or shelter? How many of us have to physically defend our loved ones? The basics are provided for us, so instead we find new things for which to struggle. And in the end, we find each victory hollow because it was not the victory for which we longed because it was not the struggle for which we were made. Or so claims that school of thought.

In a variation on that theory, perhaps our lack of fulfillment in life is not a direct result of loosing those primal struggles; rather it is symptomatic of a populace that has lost its way in the absence of those struggles. Now that we no longer struggle around the clock to protect and feed and clothe and shelter our loved ones, we've grown comfortable passing that extra time indulging ourselves. Every day we wake up and go to bed with the same thought growing like a tumor in our brains: "How can I make myself happier?" We chase better jobs, nicer cars, bigger houses, more exotic vacations, more entertaining hobbies, and more exciting lovers. And in the end, we find each victory hollow, not because those aren't the struggles for which we were made but because the focal point of our struggles has shifted from our loved ones to ourselves. Perhaps if we took the focus off ourselves and placed it on those people we would have once fought to protect, we might find some of that peace we so fervently chase.

Finally, we must admit that it is quite possible fulfillment is not something man is supposed to attain. Chronic lack of fulfillment is the proverbial carrot on a stick that drives us forward. The best and worst in man has always been conjured by feelings that there must be something more out there, be it a higher power, a new world, or the more certain existence we now enjoy.

I conclude that it is probably naïve to assume our ancestors were anymore fulfilled in their struggle to protect their land from invaders than we are in our struggle to make the next mortgage payment. But I also think our ancestors were probably a lot less hung up on the concept of fulfillment. Their hectic world didn't afford them the luxury of worrying about whether or not they were satisfied with their lives. And now that we have that luxury--or curse, depending on how you choose to view it--we take long, hard looks at our lives, and most of the time we don't like what we see. We perceive voids, and rather than trying to fill those voids through noble pursuits, we push aside everything our species once fought so hard to protect and chase after worldly gratification. In the end, I believe we are unhappy because we are so consumed with being happy.

I'm a Dead Armadillo

2006-02-15T22:23:00.000-08:00

Famed Texas politician and leftist political pundit Jim Hightower made popular the quote "There's nothing in the middle of the road but yellow lines and dead armadillos." If that's the case, I must be a dead armadillo because I've been straddling that yellow line my whole life. On every topic from world politics to recreation, I find the lanes on either side of me growing a little wider each year.

I support national healthcare but vehemently oppose gun control. I quote the Bible but decry organized religion as a crutch. I hate hanging out in bars almost as much as I hate hanging out with people who don't drink. I want to preserve the nature and beauty of Central Texas, while making a small fortune building shopping centers there. I am not bound by doctrine, devotion, or public perception.

Most people perceive me as weak and indecisive. Because I am neither for nor against their side, they assume I have no side. But I declare here and now that I represent the unheard side. I represent a new brand of activist--the militant moderates. We're walking the yellow line, kicking the dead armadillos out of the way and throwing rocks at your cars as you pass.

We stand for the one positive attribute this world demeans, mocks, and steps on every chance it gets--moderation. We toe the party line of reason. And our battle cry is "Grow the fuck up!"

Poor people don't choose to be poor. Taking away a person's right to defend himself or herself does not protect that person. We can learn from the great thinkers of the past without accepting everything they said as the gospel truth. There are much better ways to spend a Friday or Saturday night than making inebriated chitchat in a dimly lit, smoke filled receptacle of human despair; however, if you're so afraid of intoxicating beverages that you avoid any social interaction where alcohol is prevalent, you're going to miss out on as much of life as the sad sacks who can't live without it. Nobody wants to live in a concrete jungle, and nobody wants to live in the 1800's. We can preserve nature without stopping progress.

Where are my brothers and sisters at arms? This is my rallying cry! Rise above the ignorant masses and proclaim to the world that there are no simple solutions to complex issues. Proclaim that you will not succumb to the same naiveties that lead to Communism, Nazism, and Islamic extremists. Proclaim that you will not succumb to the same naiveties that turn so many people in modern society into bigoted, hedonistic sheep. Stand beside me in seeking complex solutions to complex problems. Stand beside me in seeking more from life. Stand beside me as fellow Dead Armadillos!

My 26th Birthday

2006-02-14T20:21:00.000-08:00

As far as VB days (Valentine's birthdays) go, this one wasn't bad. I decided yesterday that if I spent today in my office in front of a computer, I was going to shoot myself, so I took the day off. I woke up, bummed around the house for about an hour, went to the gym, came home and cleaned up, grabbed some Arby's, drove my motorcycle out Devil's Backbone to Blanco, stopped by Aquarena Springs on the way back and hiked around for about an hour, grabbed a Whataburger, and caught a really bad movie. I went the whole day without seeing anyone I know, and honestly I'm kind of glad it worked out that way. I got plenty of phone calls, text messages, and emails from friends and family, which was really nice, but it was also nice having a day to just go and do my thing. After all, I'm the only person I know who'd have fun doing all that stuff.

Some Random Photos of Me

2006-02-12T15:43:00.000-08:00

Me on Fox News (Feb. 16, 2008)

Just me being me (July 2007)

Real Estate convention in Las Vegas, NV, in May 2007

Caught doing my Michael Jackson impersonation in April 2007

Learning to surf in Costa Rica in February 2007

Real Estate convention in San Antonio in October 2006

My dad and me standing in front of a shopping center we developed, when it was still under construction, in San Angelo, TX (August 2006)

Me standing in front of our sign, in front of our San Angelo development (August 2006)

My dad and me before my sister's wedding (July 2006)

At my sister's wedding (July 2006)

Trying to look GQ in June 2006

Best man at a wedding in November 2005

Who says only girls can go slutty for Halloween? (October 2005)

I like to be on bottom. (August 2005)

Head down over Skydive San Marcos in August 2005

Clean shaven in July 2005

Trying to look cool for a newspaper photographer in March 2005

Exiting the plane in May 2004

Snow skiing in California in January 2004

Overlooking Red Square (Moscow) in June 2003

Standing behind Dennis Quaid on Access Hollywood in April 2001

Rock climbing in Hueco Tanks, TX, in October 1998

Water skiing on Lake LBJ (Central Texas) in October 1997

About Me (updated 06-17-07)

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I came here to kick ass and chew bubblegum.

And I'm all out of bubblegum.

I'm intelligent and quirky and seldom boring.

I struggled as a full-time filmmaker from 1997-2003. I had a few minor successes (saw my name on the big screen), barely missed out on a couple of major successes (a screenplay sale fell apart in negotiations), and basically enjoyed the ride. Even though filmmaking is no longer my full-time profession, it is still one of the driving forces in my life, and I continue to screenwrite and pursue occasional production work in my spare time.

In 1998 I started skydiving, and it quickly became one of my strongest passions. In November of 2003 I earned my Coach rating, and in May of 2004 I became a rated Instructor. I am one of only a handful of skydivers in the world who still skysurfs (skydives with a board, similar to a snowboard, strapped to my feet). In 2004 and 2005 I competed on a skysurfing team called L.A.S.T. (Last American Skysurfing Team). We medalled at the 2005 National Championships and were invited to join the US team at the 2006 World Championships in Germany; however, I had already decided that I would retire from competing after the 2005 National Championships, and despite the allure of competing at the world level, I stuck to my decision. A couple of months later, in November of 2005, I also retired from coaching and instructing. I still make a few jumps a year, just for fun, but my days of making ten or more jumps every weekend are behind me. Skydiving was a very big part of my life for many years, and it was an amazing part of my life which I will always remember fondly, but as every season of life eventually must, that season has come to an end.

In 2003 I took a part-time job as a marketing associate for my dad's commercial real estate firm Lewis Commercial Realty, Inc. Commercial real estate eventually grew from a part-time job into a full-time career. It's an interesting, dynamic field, and it gives me a lot of flexibility with my schedule. In 2005 I began taking on a more active role in the company's brokerage and development of commercial real estate, including getting licensed as a sales/leasing agent. In 2006 and the first half of 2007, I aided in the development of two high-end retail strip centers in West Texas.

I enjoy traveling; however, I usually find simple trips more enjoyable than extravagant trips. After traveling from coast to coast in the U.S., making a couple of trips south of the border, and backpacking around parts of Eastern and Western Europe, I've yet to find any vacation that can top a week on a Central Texas lake. Though, spending two weeks in Costa Rica last January definitely came close.

I've always loved the outdoors and extreme sports. Strap a board or two to my feet, and I'm comfortable on snow, water, or air. Give me a pleasant afternoon in the Rocky Mountains, a couple hundred feet of rope, and a rock face, and I'm a happy boy. But as I get older, I also find myself more and more drawn to the simpler things in life, like dinner with friends and board games and quiet evenings at home. I do enjoy going out for a couple of beers and seeing live music and that sort of thing, but I'm not really into the club scene. I can fake it every now and then, but it's definitely not my thing.

I have a tendency to willingly humiliate myself for the sake of my friends' amusement. As an example, this is how I cured the boredom during my first night alone in a new house in June of 2005.

If you want to know more about me, follow the numerous links in this post, or read through the rest of my blog (guaranteed to be more interesting than the average blog or your money back).

If you want to contact me, my AIM screen name and my email address are lewdouva@aol.com.

Old Blog Posts (08/18/05-02/09/06)

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My blog posts from August 18, 2005 - February 9, 2006, can be viewed HERE.