Tuesday, June 24, 2008

You've Let Me Down

You’ve let me down.

I’m not talking about the metaphorical sense or the metaphysical sense or any meta pre-fixed sense that can be drudged up from the back of my vocabulary subconscious. Everybody I know in this world has let me down. And I’m not talking in some emo way of describing my life. My life has actually been truly great so far and I don’t know a lot of people that can say that. I’m an extremely lucky and blessed person that has had a relatively easy life by most standards. I’ve rarely struggled, I have the person that I’m going to spend the rest of my life with and she actually feels the same way if not more, I have an amazing home, and I’m in the process of pursuing a career that couldn’t be more rewarding, challenging, and exciting.

But everyone in my life recently has let me down. And the problem is that they don’t know it and they don’t seem to care. I started this blog as a non-basketball avenue to share my thoughts, theories, stories, and emotions with the world. It means a lot to me to have my words read by those that matter to me and those that could potentially take something away from it. It’s not easy for me to express myself to individuals. I’ve never been very open and it’s rare that I trust someone enough to let them into my head. I don’t have some traumatic experience that necessarily led to this in my life. Maybe it’s because I’ve had friends stab me in the back before. I’m not sure. Whatever it is, it’s not easy for me to connect on a one on one basis. However, when it’s writing to the masses, it’s very easy for me. I love sharing my opinions and discussing why I’m either a genius for having them or a complete retard that doesn’t know what I’m talking about. As long as we get to discuss it, that’s all I ever want.

So when I write words on this blog or on my website, it isn’t just something to fill space and it isn’t just something to do. It’s me opening up my heart and my mind to a group of people that I wouldn’t be comfortable enough to open up to individually. And yet it goes unread by those that mean the most to me. I’ve briefly mentioned it before that friends don’t let friends go un-read. And it’s true. The problem is that I think only one person read that blog. ONE!!!! You’ve left me hanging in the most vulnerable way when you ignore my words on this page. It hurts when I check the hits on this blog and it only goes up by a single digit every time I check.

And do you know why it goes up just one digit? Because I, myself, clicked on the fucking page. I’m the only one reading my own words. The only one. And that’s shitty for you to do to me. I’m a damn loyal person and a pretty selfless person. Anything anybody ever needs from me, no matter how well or little I know them, will get it from me if I can provide it. I’m not tooting my own horn here. I’m just letting you know that about me. I’m a giving person by nature and I love helping other people. Even if it’s those that I barely know. All I’ve asked in return is that you support me in what I want to do the most. The only way for me to get better as a writer and to make it in this industry is to be read and be criticized. And when you don’t even bother to read, after you say you will and always will, and then you’ve left me by the wayside.

How long does it take to read a couple thousand words? 10 minutes? Is that so hard to have you devote 10 minutes a day or every couple of days just to read what I write and let me know what you think? Am I being unreasonable here? I know of one single person that has read my stuff in the past week. And he read it last night because he didn’t know about it yet. One fucking person. To that one person, thank you, Adam. You reading this and discussing it with me means the world to me. To those that aren’t reading this, you’ve let me down.

You’ve done the equivalent of saying you’ll pick me up from the airport and then never showing up. You’ve done the equivalent of offering to give me a ride from work when my car is out of commission and then not picking me up. You’ve offered your support whenever I need it and then never given it. It’s so painful to have the people that matter in your life not care about what you love doing the most. I’m not the first to feel this way in life and I certainly won’t be the last. But that doesn’t mean the pain is any easier to deal with.

If you’re not interested in reading my stuff, then just tell me and don’t blow smoke up my ass. But if you say you’re going to Support the Habit, then fucking support it.

I don’t think it’s asking too much, considering I always do the same for you.

The sad thing is that even with these emotions that I’ve typed, no one has read them to know how they’ve let me down.

Support the Habit

- Z


Word Count- 8209

Thursday, June 19, 2008

Plunge to Hunger

Support the Habit Blog #3


First off, let me tell you about my complete turnaround from complete jubilation to the frustrating pain and “embarrassment” that I went through from Tuesday to Wednesday. After that we’ll get into the absurdity of the vending machine and how they’re still around.


Reality Killed the Television Star
But something has been bothering me lately. I don’t know that it’s necessarily a bad thing because I will probably be able to focus more on writing, but I can really see an end to me having favorite TV shows and movies to look forward to in the next few years. Now, I have no idea what’s being developed in terms of TV shows, but I do know that pretty much everything I like is dying off and everything I don’t like is getting strong. I’m not a big fan of reality TV. Everything is so staged and so scripted and yet it’s supposed to trick me into thinking this stuff is real. I don’t buy the little speeches on the Bachelor and Bachelorette. Before you stop reading this because I just mentioned these shows, let me explain.

Yes, I do watch these two shows… kind of. Val, the love of my life actually is obsessed with these two shows and in turn I watch them with her. In fact, we make it a Bachelor night and usually invite over Kristin, our friend, and if Andy (the wife/roommate) can manage to put some clothes on, he’ll usually join us too. Val is so insane about this show that we’re only allowed to raise our hands three times each to make comments about the show. We raise our hand, she doesn’t notice it’s up, someone makes a comment that a hand is up, she pauses the TiVo, and then we get to rip on these people. It’s actually pretty fun. I’ve even figured out a way to work the system by counting my comments as half-comments so I get twice as many.

I actually don’t pay attention with the Bachelorette because the show is terrible and it just doesn’t work with 25 guys going after some girl. The dynamics and the “drama” just doesn’t measure up to the Bachelor with 25 crazed, man-hungry bitches are trying to force themselves into feelings for a rich single guy so that they can win essentially a game show where the prize is that they get to have a relationship 6 months after filming this show that will last approximately 3 weeks until the two part ways and find their fame in tabloids. I do actually enjoy watching the Bachelor for two reasons:

1) It’s hilarious to me the dynamics of how the girls act on this show. They all get mad because some girl is trying to get all of the time with the guy and won’t share. It gives an unfair advantage allegedly. They complain that these girls treat this like it’s a competition. It’s a FUCKING game show! It IS a competition! There is only one winner at the end of series. Not 25. It’s like Slut March Madness. They trick themselves into thinking that they love these guys after spending approximately an hour and a half total in terms of alone time by the time their ass gets sent home.

2) I love when they get sent home. I love how they cry and wonder why this guy doesn’t want him. You want to know why? You wouldn’t blow him during your one on one time. The slutty girls who are able to hide it when everybody else is around always manage to survive for way too long. You know why? Because they give it up. That’s why. And there’s no way you love this guy after 10 minutes with him. You love the fame and pomp and circumstance of the whole process. But most importantly, you love his money and the fact that you won’t have to go back to dying hair or managing an apartment building when the final episode ends. These guys are rich and you can’t tell me that if they were the exact same person, but with a minimum wage job that they would still be in love with this jackass. I love when they cry because they thought their life was some fairy tell ending. Well, wake up Cinderella; someone needs you to touch up their roots.

(One more thing – my favorite thing to do during the rose ceremonies when girls get sent home is yell, “Rip that bitches heart out!” It makes the show a lot of fun.)

Anyway, back to the lecture at hand. The Shield is one of my favorite shows of all time and once FX finally puts the new season on TV this fall or next spring, it will be the end of the show. This is the final season and considering the Shield is ending, Scrubs ended, and the Office can really only have about 2 years tops of great TV, I’m left with nothing entertaining on TV. I will not be someone that watches the reality shows just to watch something. That’s what sports are for. I guess, it’s not a big issue, but it’s somewhat troubling nonetheless.

Tuesday Was Awesome
This section won’t be very long but it shows you the jubilation I felt before the frustration. I’m not going into the Celtics victory because 1) it is well documented on Talkhoops.net and 2) I feel bad because I know what Phillip’s going through and I don’t want him to stop reading this post. You can read about it here (by the way, Yahoo posted a link to it!). But to wake me up that day was the news that the Mets fired Willie Randolph. I hate the Mets and I respect Willie Randolph so I was pretty annoyed when the Mets hired him as the manager a couple years ago. Willie’s a really smart man and if given the proper players and not some overpaid, under-talented douche bags like the Mets employ now, I have no doubt that the Mets would win multiple World Series.

So needless to say that a day in which the Mets fall into even greater internal turmoil and Kevin Garnett wins a championship was something that had me riding high.

Wednesday Not So Awesome
This won’t be very long either but it was what encompassed my whole day of frustration and my current morning. I’m in a lot of pain right now. I’m usually in a lot of pain because of my bad knee, which literally hurts at all times of the day, but I can deal with that by now. I can usually just focus my attention away from my knee so I can deal with it for most of the day. However, pain anywhere else usually gets more attention from my brain.

The pain that I suffered yesterday morning was a fluke accident but resulted in some embarrassment. I won’t get into my job but let’s just say occasionally for my job, I have to be in court as a clerk/bailiff and that means that I dress in a suit (looking like MIB most times) and have to talk to judges and lawyers all day. So it’s recommended that I look nice when I do so, hence the Tommy Lee Jones suit. Well, yesterday morning as I do every morning, I took the dog back upstairs to get in bed with Val and kneeled beside the bed to say goodbye. As Brown Bear usually does, he jumped up onto the bed and this time kept trying to sit on Val. Finally, he jumped up on her and managed to scratch her because we need to get his nails clipped. Then all hell broke loose.

Because of the nails into Val’s skin, she reacted by pushing the dog off of her. Unfortunately she pushed him into the direction that I was kneeling and the dog was unable to prevent himself from flying off of the bed. His head came crashing into my mouth and against my nose, which felt about as good as the time I tried to cut the plastic off a syrup bottle with a knife and the knife slipped right into the skin between my right thumb and my right index finger (I let go of the knife and it just stayed in there upright, not fun). When BB’s head hit my mouth, it caused my front tooth to slice into inside of my mouth and cut the inner skin behind my upper lip. This wouldn’t be so terrible except for the fact that my tooth was stuck in the skin and it wouldn’t come out. I yelped out something like “Oh fuck” and fell to the floor. I took my hands away from my face to see blood on my fingers and began running to the bathroom as I released the vice-like grip that my mouth had on my tooth.

When my tooth came out of the back of my lip, the blood starting pouring out and my nose began to drip blood as well. Luckily, I rushed over to the sink, dripped blood on the tile floor instead of our bedroom carpet, and didn’t get any blood on my dress shirt. I was able to stop the blood from coming out of my nose and my mouth eventually stopped bleeding. However, my upper lip grew to about 3 times the size as normal. It looked like the exact opposite of Kendrick Perkins’ upper lip. So I was standing in the mirror, willing the blood away from my dress clothes, and looking at an upper lip that would look like I got into a bar fight with some tool singing Journey, which would lead to a day of, “Ya, but you should’ve seen the other guy” jokes.

So all day, I could see people staring at my lip and wondering if there was a proper way to bring it up or if it was just more socially acceptable for me to ask them for their business card and case information as they map out the blueprints for a skyscraper on my upper lip. I understand that I looked like half of Jay-Z’s mouth (I hope that doesn’t come off as racist) but I still have eyes. So I’ve been guilt tripping Val ever since and trying to figure out ways to eat without pain. It hasn’t been a fun way to spend the past 30 hours, but I did discover that Rold Gold pretzels are the way to go after a fight with your dog’s skull.

Vending Machines
Speaking of Rold Gold pretzels, what in the hell is keeping vending machines around? Is it simply the fact that office buildings have to have them by law? I was too hungry to not eat lunch today and too lazy to actually go get food, so I shot up a floor at work and went to the vending machines to get a snack to tide me over. As I’m looking at the crap that they shove into these things, I started wondering two things: 1) what in the hell would I even want to eat right now because these options look like ass and 2) why are these machines acting like the Terminator and just not dying off?

I decided that I’d get my drink first and then decide. I was in desperate need of caffeine but since I don’t drink coffee, I knew I had to go with a soda. Nothing was going to pick me up like a nice cold can of Coke. So I popped my money into the machine, and boom, no Coke left. Of course there was still Pepsi, Cherry Coke, Rootbeer, Brisk Ice Tea (Huh?), and Canada Dry. Well, I sure as hell don’t drink Pepsi. I never understood kids that drank Pepsi over Coke. Was it the fact that Pepsi had Britney Spears’ tits selling cans back when she was relevant? It tastes like a Fun Dip drenched in pancake syrup. I don’t like Cherry Coke. I like Coke with Cherry syrup added but not the pre-packaged product.

I still don’t understand why the Brisk was there. Who orders that? I wouldn’t mind having Iced Tea, but I would never drink it out of a can like that. So it was between Rootbeer and Canada Dry, which of course means that it was between Rootbeer and nothing. Canada Dry? I’m not a 50-year old woman with hot flashes and bowel troubles so I’m not drinking Ginger Ale voluntarily. Mug Rootbeer won out by default. Then I went over to the snacks vending machine and looked for something to tide me over. And this is the problem with vending machines. Half of the damn machine is filled with candy bars that nobody wants (there’s like 4 good ones in there) along with chewing gum, pop tarts, and cookies or chips. Pop tarts sounded good but I don’t eat breakfast products after 10am so they were out. Then I spotted the Rold Gold Pretzels.

I haven’t had Rold Gold Pretzels since I was screaming along with the kids on the TV, “Donna Martin graduates!” I remember the old commercials with Jason Alexander and his bald stubby head trying to sell these pretzels. I remember being mesmerized by the word “gold” in the name. So I went with the Rold Golds, took my rootbeer, and looked for one more item. I looked to the machine on the left and saw an inside that looked like it hadn’t been wiped down since Tombstone was the biggest comedy in America. I looked at the contents of the machine. There was a Cup o Noodles, lunchables (apparently I work at a grammar school), and milk. Milk?!? That’s disgusting. I decided to avoid anything from Spore Central and went back to my Rold Gold machine. I decided to finish this off with a Twix and call it a morning.

But if you read what my options were, the question remains, “why the hell are vending machines around still?” They don’t have anything truly worth buying and unless I get there before 10 am for a Pop Tart, how do people even make money off owning those things? Why not put that money towards lawn care, day care, or buying a parking lot? Those seem like businesses that can produce some coin. Vending machines need to step their game up, not run out of Coke, and get a disinfectant wipe slapped across them every once in a while.

Because unless my legs are broken, I’m not going back. By the way, the Rold Gold’s delivered.

Word Count to Date - 7,270

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

Improbable Breaks Down to I'm probable

(Quick Warning - I wrote this on the train over the past couple of days. If ideas are necessarily flowing properly, it's because I was distracted either by a White Trash Meth-Head or some crazy ass people that ride the train and speak so loudly that you can't concentrate on what you're doing)

I’ve wanted to write a lot here in the past couple of days and definitely would like to turn this into a daily blog. Unfortunately this past week, I was immersed in draft scouting and the NBA Finals. It’s amazing how much of my day I spend breaking down this NBA Finals in my mind, thinking of wrinkles in the offenses of the two teams, thinking of who the X-Factor in the next game will be, figuring out how certain guys are beating other guys off the dribble and how Ronny Turiaf would look dressed up as Hillary Clinton for Halloween. I don’t really know what this blog is going to end up being about, so I’ll just start throwing out movies I’ve watched lately and things I’ve thought about.

1. Shawshank Redemption
I think I’m going to go into this more in-depth in its own blog but I forget how truly amazing Shawshank Redemption is. I know I’m not breaking a story here but if you haven’t watched this movie in a few years, a few months or even a few hours, I suggest you pop it into your computer or DVD player or Laser Disc player and watch it again. It’s such an amazing movie on so many levels. I really will devote an entire blog to this movie and try to write about one movie every week but I just want to throw out some thoughts after re-watching this.

– Tim Robbins is brilliant in this movie. Brilliant like Guinness beer in a bottle. And yet he wasn’t nominated for an Academy Award. This was the year that Forrest Gump dominated the Oscars and rightfully so on some level, but you can’t tell me that Tom Hanks pretending to be semi-retarded was a hands-down better acting job than what Tim Robbins portrayed with Andy Dufresne. Here are the people that were nominated for best actor that year besides Hanks who won: Nigel Hawthorne (The Madness of King George), John Travolta (Pulp Fiction), Paul Newman (Nobody’s Fool), and Morgan Freeman (Shawshank). I can understand why these guys are here except for Travolta. The only reason he got nominated is because between Urban Cowboy and Pulp Fiction his claim to fame was dealing with cognitive babies that sound like Bruce Willis. Tim Robbins at worst should’ve been nominated and probably should’ve won.

– Technically, I’m a very lower-middle class white kid (maybe upper-lower class even) that didn’t have money growing up but I didn’t have any concept of struggling either. My parents weren’t great with financial decisions but they owned their own house and managed to by some miracle afford private school for me and my sister. We always lived in a good neighborhood. We moved out of our old neighborhood just before it became ghetto and dangerous and the neighborhood that they’ve lived in since will probably never be bad. So I have very little concept of anything prison related. My dad worked in Juvenile Hall for a couple of years but that’s about as close as I get to that kind of world. So when I see something like this movie or a TV show like Oz, it amazes me that there are people like this in today or yesterday’s world. I’m just sheltered from it and a movie like this is able to humanize criminals in a way that doesn’t piss me off. It truly shows me a different world other than the one I’ve been experiencing.

– I know it goes on and probably to a worse degree, but the way that the movie portrays the guards is alarming and frustrating to me. I have a big problem when the word cops or sheriffs or something equivalent is mentioned and people around you respond with, “I fucking hate cops.” That may be one of the most ignorant statements ever uttered to me. Cops have this pre-conceived stigma attached to them that they’re probably corrupt and probably assholes. I’ve met probably 3 asshole cops in my lifetime. It frustrates me that people think they’re out to get them. I know it’s different because of the color of my skin and I’m biased for sure because my dad is a Peace Officer, but I like to think I’m right on most of this idea. There are always exceptions to our perception (my favorite saying that I’ve ever created, even above the fact that I invented the quadruple and quintuple negative) but people need to realize that cops have a job to protect people and if you aren’t breaking the law then you shouldn’t be worried about it.

I have many more thoughts that stem from this movie, but I’ll save them for the blog for this movie.

2. Nicolas Cage and His Terrible Appearance
I saw an advertisement for National Treasure 2 the other day off some old item I had TiVoed and it was around the same time that I had watched the final 5 minutes of the movie Ghost Rider just to get a glance at Eva Mendez (otherwise I would never watch that garbage and sure as hell wouldn’t watch that whole movie). Nic Cage had to have undergone the worst plastic surgery since Michael tried to look like Latoya. Not only does he have a terrible nose job and a butchered face-lift, but he also has unsettling long hair. I used to be a HUGE Nic Cage fan. Well, huge is an overstatement. But I thoroughly enjoyed a lot of his movies. I was never a big fan of the Rock (movie not wrestler…well actually both). But Con-Air, Face/Off, and Snake Eyes are classics in my mind. Con-Air and Face/Off are great action movies and Snake Eyes may be the most hilarious movie of all time.

But it all went downhill for me when I saw him on David Letterman years ago. He came out to the interview with leather pants on and I know it wasn’t for a role. He actually thought it was acceptable to wear leather pants outside of it being some kind of costume. He woke up that day and thought that since he was going to be on Letterman that he should wear leather pants. That’s something that doesn’t leave your mind. It’s like the line in his movie 8MM (about snuff films), “there are some things you can’t un-see.” I could never un-see those leather pants.

(Quick note: There’s only been one other time that an actor has fallen drastically out of favor with me because of a talk-show interview. After seeing Fast and the Furious, I was pretty excited about the Vin Diesel era (of course I’m not proud of that in retrospect but that’s the truth). I thought he was one of those badass movie characters that Hollywood was drastically missing. Well, my image of him was shot on one of his first appearances on Jay Leno’s show (I don’t know what’s more embarrassing – the fact that I liked Vin Diesel or I once watched Jay Leno). I expected Diesel to be kind of a dick but instead all he talked about was that people should go for their dreams because that’s what he did and he managed to make it. I don’t need that speech from someone that is supposed to be a badass. Tell me you’re better than me and why you’re better than me. Don’t tell me that I can be you. Big mistake, Vinny.

3. My Career Aspirations
I’m still working on my book but think that if things go right this summer that I can finish it by late September (assuming I don’t get a major case of writer’s block). It’s a novel right now that I have an idea of where I’m going with it but I’m not sure exactly how I’ll get there. It seems to be influenced by many of my favorite things in life in terms of movies and music, but I don’t think it will come off as me trying to knock off something successful. I think it will come off as very original and could be something special. How special you ask?

I know this sounds absurd and ridiculous but I think that it’s possible. I want it to be a Catcher in the Rye type of novel. I’ll wait until you stop laughing. Almost there? Can we proceed? Good. I’m serious about this. I know I need to become a better writer to get this done, but I feel like it’s realistic. Just because it isn’t probable doesn’t mean it’s impossible. JD Salinger probably had people laugh at him when he talked about how great Catcher in the Rye could be. So I figure that I can do the same thing. What I’m writing has that potential and that’s not just me being cocky or biased. I think it can mean a lot to a lot of different types of people and that’s what CITR managed to pull off. It relates to a lot of different personalities and situations.

However, I’m okay with the fact that it might not happen. I think that it will have that potential but that’s not what I necessarily have to have it be. There isn’t a better feeling than someone telling you that what you wrote meant something to them. I wrote “Welcome Back, Basketball” a couple of months back and it was extremely well received. I had dozens of emails from people that said that it gave them chills and it was very inspiring. I still get emotional thinking about those sentiments to this day. That was the greatest feeling I’ve ever had. It was something that I want to happen again. Even if my book can’t be another CITR, if one person reads it and it means something special to them then I will consider it a success. I may have high aspirations but I have relatively low levels of accepting the success of my work.

4. The Strangers
If you like scary movies, go see this movie. It is one of the best scary movies that I’ve ever seen because it’s an eerily, psychological thriller that really has powerful scenes through the most simplistic imagery and use of sound. After it’s out for about a month, I’ll write a complete review of it, but I’m willing to wait because people might not have had a chance to see it and I don’t want to spoil it for people the way my grandma spoiled the 6th Sense for me. The way that this movie uses silence in its scenes is a way that heightens the suspense and draws the greatest fears out of most viewers. It also has a simple but great ending in my opinion that adds to how creepy and thrilling this movie is.

It even worked despite Liv Tyler. I can’t stand Liv Tyler and everything from her looks to her acting to her voice just annoy the crap out of me. However, she still manages to work in this movie on so many levels and I’m actually glad that she was cast for it. I’ve always been very critical of her acting style and that’s without holding Armageddon against her. She always tries to look profound and contemplative by employing the same look that my dog, Brown Bear, gives when he’s trying to figure out how to get out of his crate. She also has the voice of a 5-year old girl with a 2-pack a day habit. Normally I can’t even consider watching a performance by her but this one disproved that theory. With all of that said, I’d take her any day over Sandra Bullock’s ugly ass.

5. Semi-Pro
I saw this movie in the theater with the Talkhoops.net senior writer, Brandon Gallawa, and our resident cynic, Andy Eisner. As I’m sure many people have heard it was extremely disappointing and something I shouldn’t have spent $9.50 on (especially considering that doesn’t buy 2 gallons of gas anymore). I had high aspirations for this movie because 1) it was Will Ferrell and 2) it was homage to the ABA. The ABA may have been the greatest league ever created because it brought excitement to a sport that was beginning to falter (the NBA) and it was more about having fun than anything else. In fact, it was pretty much basketball’s version of Champ Kind, the sports anchor character from a Ferrell movie, “Anchorman.” It was all about having a little fun, maybe a cocktail or two, light a fire in someone’s kitchen. So needless to say, this movie was highly anticipated by me.

Well, it pretty much sucked. There were great references to the league that were very subtle. There were some pretty funny scenes and great one-liners. It was a funny movie. However, it wasn’t legendary funny like Ron Burgundy gave us. Well, it just came out this past week on DVD so I decided to blow $35 on a Blu-Ray version (for the extra features) and hope that it’s re-watch value was extremely high. Well, I have to say that the second time through, it was a much better movie. Maybe it was because my expectations had been shattered and I was able to go into knowing what it was. Maybe it was because my expectations were actually lower than what they should be so it had a better chance of pleasing my sense of humor. Whatever it is, I’m glad I gave it a second chance. We’ll just call it the anti-Billy Madison. Billy Madison was a TERRIBLE movie that wasn’t funny and I’m sure I will never watch again.

6. My Rap Career
This may end up coming off as the most arrogant blog that you’ll ever read with my high aspirations, but I truly don’t mean for it to come off that way. With that said, I wonder what kind of rap career I would’ve had if I attempted it. There’s no way that I could’ve been an Eminem success but there’s also no way I would’ve been a one hit wonder like Vanilla Ice. I think I would’ve fallen somewhere in The Streets/Aesop Rock category in terms of success. I would’ve been a nice mixture of Streets’ humor and Aesop’s lyrical flow. I would never have the deep, Shakespearean lyrics of Aesop but I would’ve had a similar flow.

I’m fairly creative with words and how to use them so I think that rap fits me decently. It’s really not hard to come up with a funny/clever freestyle at the drop of a hat. The hardest part is coming up with a beat to go with it. I have absolutely no musical talent when it comes to making music, but in terms of lyrics and with some practice, I could hold my own with slightly above average rappers. I would’ve never been good enough to go mainstream and I have a terrible voice for rap (unless I decide to change it to a much more baritone sound) but it’s fun to think about trying to have a career and performing in front of people. I think that I would’ve been best suited for battles as opposed to coming up with albums. I talk a lot of shit, and it can be clever when needed.

7. Friends Don’t Let Friends Go Un-read
Two writers that I admire very much have expressed this problem lately and it’s certainly one I can relate to. It’s impossibly frustrating and disheartening when you attempt to have a writing career and your friends don’t support you. They may say, “I think you can do it” and “you’re so smart and such a good writer that I know you’ll make it,” but it doesn’t mean dick if you don’t read your friends work. I personally rarely get feedback from any of my friends or people close to me in life about the things I write. I’ve been doing this for about 4 years and I still can’t get my friends to read my stuff consistently. I usually have to tell them that I wrote something that I think they should check out and then if they actually do, they replay with something like “ya… it was good…” without giving you any confidence that they actually read your work.

It gives you the feeling of if you can’t even get those closest to you to read what you write, then how is a mass audience ever going to give a shit to actually read it. It’s a very defeating feeling because I feel like the best stuff I ever write is stuff that I hope my friends and family will read. You almost write it for them and hope that someone outside of that group will identify with it and look to read more of what you write. Now, I don’t know that they have, do or will consider me a friend yesterday, today, or tomorrow instead of considering me to be an acquaintance, but I consider them friends and will personally never let their work go un-read. I know the feeling and it’s a shitty thing to do to someone. Support the Habit isn’t just something that I try to pass off as a clever/cool saying to wrap things up. I actually mean support the habit of these writers and experts that love to write about this stuff so much that they would put themselves out their for possible ridicule by people they don’t even know because for them, it’s the most fun thing to do in the world. Supporting the habit is just something you do for a blog, website, newspaper, or book. Supporting the habit is something you do for your friends and loved ones. It may not be important to you, but it means everything to them.

8. Don’t Call It a Comeback
I haven’t played basketball in well over a year. Part of that is because of a bad right knee that won’t get better until my meniscus tears all the way through so I can have an easy surgery. Part of that is that I’ve really put my writing career in my own hands and now have way more to do with Talkhoops.net then I ever expected. And part of that is because I’m extremely out of shape and it’s hard to get over that initial hump. Well, here’s a warning to everybody on nearby and neighboring parks and basketball courts. I’m back. I’m getting back into basketball. Once I get in shape and the rust runs off of my jumper, it’s over. My handle is still as sharp as ever with both hands and when the quick first step has returned, I feel terrible about the things I will do to your ankles. Ever since Val and I moved into our current house, I’ve been thinking about going to the court down the street and making a rep for myself. This summer, it will happen. Be forewarned. And don’t call it a comeback.

Game 6 is tonight for the Lakers-Celtics and I feel like the Celtics will runaway with this game. They have a certain mental toughness that the Lakers don’t have. Kobe Bryant is either in a huge slump or simply isn’t good enough to attack a consistent team defense. The Celtics are simply too good for the Celtics in Boston. This won’t go 7. It ends tonight. Celtics by 7.


Word Count after two blog posts - 4,830


Support the Habit.

- Z

Thursday, June 12, 2008

Blog #1 - Tomahawk Chop

I was inspired to start a blog that is not entirely devoted to basketball by reading the blogs of two very talented writers that I’ve been blessed to meet over the past year. Female writers often don’t do it for me when it comes to pop culture, entertainment, and sports writing, but Celia Kelly is the exception to my perception. She’s an extremely talented writer that is quickly finding her voice whether she realizes it or not. She is one of these writers that have inspired me to start this blog, which may or may not make me a more well rounded writer.

The other writer is Phillip Barnett. Phillip Barnett found my website, I assume through Myspace, and asked to be apart of Talkhoops.net. He submitted an article about the dying nature of the NBA and how it was in danger of almost becoming obsolete as a national past time. It was one of the most impressive things that I had read since I became more aware of what is and isn’t good writing. He’s the most talented young writer that I’ve ever had the pleasure of reading and with his talent, he could literally do whatever he wants in this world. He’s the other writer who inspired me to create this blog.

So if you end up enjoying my writings through this avenue, you can certainly give a little bit of the credit to me, but damn near all of the credit to Celia and Phillip.

Of course if you end up hating every word I wrote, blame them and not me.

I was trying to decide what to write in my first blog for this thing. I wasn’t sure if I should maybe critique one of my favorite movies, talk about how music is shit in the past 10 years or some other sport that isn’t relevant on Talkhoops.net. I decided that I would discuss my passion for baseball. Not only my passion for baseball, but I wanted to discuss my passion for the Atlanta Braves.

My dad (who is also my hero but we’ll save that for another blog) is from the South and spent a good portion of his life growing up in Atlanta, Georgia. It’s why he is obsessed with the Georgia Bulldogs. He’s so obsessed that he seems to know the recruiting class for the incoming freshman long before the major media conglomerates like ESPN and Yahoo ever start talking about it. It’s so detailed in his knowledge of the program that I often just assume that he knows what he’s talking about and agree with whatever he says. I feel like most people that discuss basketball with me. It’s not that I’m so big expert on basketball, but I’m an expert on all things basketball.

Anyway, since he grew up in Atlanta, he was naturally an Atlanta Braves fan. I’m so jealous of him because he grew up in a time where he was able to watch Hank Aaron forge his assault on not only Babe Ruth’s unbeatable record, but also his assault on the racism and ignorance he faced on a daily basis while doing such a feat. My dad was even at the game, somewhere in the outfield stands when Hank hit #715 against the Dodgers. THAT is a sporting event worth being at and remembering. It makes me feel like the excitement that I enjoyed at the Padres-Giants, extra-innings thriller I saw a couple of Sundays ago was an intra-squad, spring training game.



I don’t bleed the Red and Blue of the Atlanta Braves. I mean, I guess I bleed red and there are blue veins from what I can see in my body but that’s merely a coincidence. I think it’s pretentious and cliché as all hell when people say that they bleed Dodger Blue or Orange and Black of the Giants or Green and White of the Jets. If you’re bleeding green and white, I highly suggest that you get your ass some penicillin and stay away from fucking sorority girls. We all choose what team we want to follow. My dad chose to follow the Braves because he was in Atlanta and I chose to follow them because it was a fun and great way to bond with my dad when I was growing up. I don’t “bleed purple and white” because I grew up in Sacramento and have to root for the Kings. I don’t even like the fucking Kings and can’t stand the fan base, which is one of the least educated sports fan bases in the country.

But I did grow up on the Braves and feel like they are a part of me at this point. I grew up on Mark Lemke and Jeff Blauser being my stop gaps up the middle. I grew up on Lonnie Smith grand slams and Ronnie Gant’s gargantuan homeruns before he changed his name to Ron. I grew up on Damon Berryhill striking out with runners in scoring position and less than 2 outs. I grew up on Damom Berryhill striking out with runners in scoring position and exactly 2 outs. Shit, I can’t remember an at-bat when Damon Berryhill didn’t strike out no matter what the situation was. I grew up on the greatest young pitching staff ever created. I was blessed to follow Tom Glavine, John Smoltz, and Greg Maddux pitching performances. In fact, I followed damn near every start of their Hall of Fame careers. I grew up on them getting an impossibly extended outside corner. I grew up on 14 straight division titles. I grew up on just one World Series win from those 14 straight playoff appearances. I grew up on the Braves being compared to the Buffalo Bills of baseball, which is one of the most forced and uneducated comparisons I’ve ever heard.



My favorite player of all time list goes in this order:
1. David Justice
2. Chipper Jones
3. Greg Maddux
4. John Smoltz
5. Ronnie Belliard

I grew up loving Otis Nixon’s homerun theft of an Andy Van Slyk bomb. I grew up on hating the Pirates, thinking Andy Van Slyk looked like someone who would beat up his own family because he couldn’t hit Steve Avery (and I was 9 at the time), and wishing the Phillies would just go away. I grew up on John Smoltz dueling Jack Morris in Game 7 of the 91 World Series. I grew up on Sid Bream sliding safe into home because Barry Bonds had the arm of a 7-year old girl (before he decided to take steroids and help ruin the integrity of baseball 6 years later). I grew up on being terrified of the Expos in 1994 and then being psyched that they got Marquis Grissom away from them the next year. I grew up on Mark Wohlers getting the final out of the 1995 World Series right after David Justice hit the championship winning homerun in the 6th inning of Game 6. I grew up on the Crime Dog, Fred McGriff and his Tom Emanski trucker hat. I grew up on Kenny Lofton getting traded to Atlanta, disappointing because of an injury filled season and then the Braves getting screwed by umpire Eric Gregg who took the outside corner of the plate and put it at the concessions’ stand for Livan Hernandez.

I grew up on John Rocker being my favorite closer of all-time one year and then finding out he was an ignorant red neck the next year and forcing myself to not root for him. I grew up taking shit from some Mets’ fan in Phoenix while I was on vacation and hating them ever since. I grew up with Chipper Jones single-handedly annihilating the Mets in September of the 1999 season and winning the MVP because of it. I grew up on laughing at Benny Aghbayani when he would face Greg Maddux. I grew up on Andruw Jones being the greatest defensive centerfielder of all time (YES all time) and then pissing away a career because he didn’t want to try.

And now I’m watching the tail end of Tom Glavine’s career, John Smoltz’ underrated career, and Chipper Jones assaulting the .400 batting average mark. I’m watching Jeff Francouer frustrate me everyday because he can’t lay off a slider off the plate and then thrill me with the best outfield arm in baseball. I’m watching Yunel Escobar and trying to figure out if there’s legitimacy to his potential or if he’s going to be another unfulfilled prospect. I’m trying to appreciate Tim Hudson without seeing the gaping holes in his pitching performances because I’ve watched 3 Hall of Famers for the past 17 years. I’m watching Mark Teixeira hammer balls out of the yard and wondering if he’ll do it in this uniform next year and if so, for how much.



But I’m a Braves fan. Unless you’re a Yankees, Marlins, Diamondbacks, Angels, Red Sox, White Sox, or Cardinals fan, you’ve got nothing on my organization. I’ve seen my baseball team win a World Series in my life, which is something almost all of my friends can’t say for their teams. I celebrate the sports record of 14 straight division titles and the only one World Series to go with it.

After all, I’m a Braves fan. I chose to do this.

Hopefully, you enjoyed this blog on some level. There will be more. I will try to make it daily, but I have a pretty full plate.

As always, Support the Habit.

- Z