My heart is spread all over the west coast these days. In my recent move from So Cal to Oregon, I’ve been informed that a choice must be made- to cheer for Oregon or OSU.
As a long time USC fan, my heart still resides in So Cal. Apparently though, in college football, I can keep one hand on my home team as long as I reach out with the other hand and take up residence in either Oregon or OSU.
I was a bit worried when getting the “you must choose” lecture because although I am long time fan of USC, my “home” team will always hold a special place in my heart as Fresno State. As it turns out, I can cheer on teams from multiple divisions, so I’m in the clear on that one.
I have a reassuring one year window to make my decision between Oregon and OSU. So I thought I would give it the consideration it is due. After all, college football is a huge part of my existence. I can’t just make a flippant call and move on with life.
Team Match Up…
University: University of Oregon (O)
Location: Eugene, Oregon
Colors: Green and Yellow
Mascot: Ducks
University: Oregon State University (OSU)
Location: Portland, Oregon
Colors: Orange and Black
Mascot: Beavers
The 2008 Pac-10…
In the 2008 Pac-10 standings, Oregon was 7-2 in conference and 10-3 overall. They lost to Boise St., USC, and Cal. OSU was also 7-2 in conference but 9-4 overall. They lost to Stanford, Penn St., Utah and Oregon.
Now, my natural instincts say “OSU lost to Oregon, so I should probably go with the big green O.” No one wants to be a loser.
But something else in the ’08 analysis caught my attention; OSU beat USC (8-1 conference, 12-1 overall). USC’s only loss in the Pac-10 was to OSU. I don’t know if you caught those stats, but USC was 12-1. That “1” stands for OSU, my friends. Any team that can duke it out with the number one team in the Pac-10 and win, automatically catches my eye… and maybe, just maybe, my heart.
On another note, both Oregon teams beat UCLA. That fact is just about as relevant as UCLA is to the Pac-10, so I’ll throw that bit of information out and call it a wash.
2009 Schedule Analysis…
Oregon plays the major California teams at home (USC and Cal), while OSU plays the same teams on the road. USC is scheduled to play Oregon and OSU back to back; OSU will play in LA on October 24 and Oregon will play at home on October 31.
Clearly Oregon has the benefit of playing the big dog teams on their home grounds. Will it help? Well, last season they played both USC and Cal on the road and lost. Maybe they’ll turn it around this season.
It will be tougher, no doubt, for OSU to play USC and Cal on the road this season. They scored those wins at home in 08. I guess we will find out just how much benefit comes from the home court advantage.
Other Pending Factors…
There is the obvious factor of proximity. I live closer to Eugene than I do to Portland. If I wanted to go for a local team, the Ducks would be it.
I would be a liar if I said that color doesn’t matter. Orange and Black or Green and Yellow? Maybe I should try on each jersey and see which is more complimentary. Too much? Hey, I don’t take this issue lightly. I’ll be wearing these colors for the rest of my life. I don’t want to be cheering for a losing team and be wearing hideous colors.
Of course I have to ask… Beavers or Ducks? Both pretty much make me want to run in the opposite direction while laughing hysterically.
The Question Remains…
While I might have already begun leaning in a particular direction, I am open to any valuable information one might desire to share with me that might shed light on which team should win my newly Oregonian heart.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
The Greater Epic of Life
I wasn’t very impressed with the light house. The one they say is the most photographed light house on the central Oregon coast. Yeah, that one. I wasn’t impressed.
I was much more into the creepy path that led up the side of the hill to the light house and the gorgeous rocky beach below. I was even more into the segment of the river that runs into the ocean. I actually found the Tsunami warning sign at the base of the hill to be of greater amusement.
The whole thing was really quite anti-climactic; walking along the beach, then up the little hillside path over looking the ocean, and finally up to the top where a rather unspectacular, dingy-white light house stood plainly next to an old, dirty outhouse.
Maybe it was all the hype that killed it for me.
I find that happens quite often. I get caught up in the whirlwind of hype that creates a buzz I get high on. It’s a total rush getting there. And then I’m there, and it’s not. The excitement, the rush, the high; it’s not there at all.
It’s like the most amazingly gorgeous guy I spend hours prepping for, only to get to the first date and find him scarcely half way attractive and completely unsociable. The long awaited day off that ends up being filled with boredom and laziness. Spending years slaving over a bachelor degree that I am positive will land me the killer job, just to end up bagging groceries at the local Safeway.
(Okay, that hasn’t happened yet but I am already anticipating the great rise and fall. Optimism pumps through my veins.)
Giving it more thought, I am noticing that I enjoy the smaller things, the less than fantastic moments, the journey leading to… more than the arrival itself. I wonder what it would be like if I could get rid of the arrivals altogether. What if life was just a continuous anticipation of something great?
Maybe that is why people stay in school forever. They get one degree after another after another because they know that as soon as that degree is put in the fancy frame and hung up on the wall, the drive is gone. The motivation to get somewhere better, to become something more, to work just a little harder is gone. Sometimes arrival sucks the exhilaration right out of a person.
I am struck, amidst this thought, by a line recently penned by Donald Miller in which he refers to life as a great epic and talks about God creating us as characters in this great epic. I have studied the art of story telling for the greater part of my life, albeit a youthful one yet. And I am awed that all these arrivals, the happy endings, the fantastic conclusions, the unexpected twists at the end of the book could not be and are in fact built upon the details of the plot, the journey, the moments in between the beginning and the end.
Marked by mere moments – tragic moments, missed moments, defining moments, refining moments – is the plot of a great epic. At some point the epic ends, life ends, you and I will end. But the moments, as a collective legend, will remain. It is a story marred by all that was you.
So take hold of the anticipation, join in the hype that carries you into the next moment, relish in that which leads up to… and never hope to finally arrive. Today is crafting another defining narrative and weaving us into the greater epic of life.
I was much more into the creepy path that led up the side of the hill to the light house and the gorgeous rocky beach below. I was even more into the segment of the river that runs into the ocean. I actually found the Tsunami warning sign at the base of the hill to be of greater amusement.
The whole thing was really quite anti-climactic; walking along the beach, then up the little hillside path over looking the ocean, and finally up to the top where a rather unspectacular, dingy-white light house stood plainly next to an old, dirty outhouse.
Maybe it was all the hype that killed it for me.
I find that happens quite often. I get caught up in the whirlwind of hype that creates a buzz I get high on. It’s a total rush getting there. And then I’m there, and it’s not. The excitement, the rush, the high; it’s not there at all.
It’s like the most amazingly gorgeous guy I spend hours prepping for, only to get to the first date and find him scarcely half way attractive and completely unsociable. The long awaited day off that ends up being filled with boredom and laziness. Spending years slaving over a bachelor degree that I am positive will land me the killer job, just to end up bagging groceries at the local Safeway.
(Okay, that hasn’t happened yet but I am already anticipating the great rise and fall. Optimism pumps through my veins.)
Giving it more thought, I am noticing that I enjoy the smaller things, the less than fantastic moments, the journey leading to… more than the arrival itself. I wonder what it would be like if I could get rid of the arrivals altogether. What if life was just a continuous anticipation of something great?
Maybe that is why people stay in school forever. They get one degree after another after another because they know that as soon as that degree is put in the fancy frame and hung up on the wall, the drive is gone. The motivation to get somewhere better, to become something more, to work just a little harder is gone. Sometimes arrival sucks the exhilaration right out of a person.
I am struck, amidst this thought, by a line recently penned by Donald Miller in which he refers to life as a great epic and talks about God creating us as characters in this great epic. I have studied the art of story telling for the greater part of my life, albeit a youthful one yet. And I am awed that all these arrivals, the happy endings, the fantastic conclusions, the unexpected twists at the end of the book could not be and are in fact built upon the details of the plot, the journey, the moments in between the beginning and the end.
Marked by mere moments – tragic moments, missed moments, defining moments, refining moments – is the plot of a great epic. At some point the epic ends, life ends, you and I will end. But the moments, as a collective legend, will remain. It is a story marred by all that was you.
So take hold of the anticipation, join in the hype that carries you into the next moment, relish in that which leads up to… and never hope to finally arrive. Today is crafting another defining narrative and weaving us into the greater epic of life.
Monday, January 19, 2009
The Parrot Story
WD Writing Prompt: A man buys a parrot, and is horrified when he discovers the only thing it can say is, “If you ever tell anyone what you saw, I’ll kill you.” (500 word max)
The Parrot Story
“Hey Billy, bet you can’t catch me!” Aurther Miller, the tallest fifth grader you’ve ever seen, taunted me every day at recess while the others egged him on.
“Yeah Billy, go get him!”
“What’s wrong, Billy? Afraid you can’t catch him?”
Their laughter pierced my ears. I could feel the redness rising in my face as I watched Aurther stick his tongue out at me and turn to run away. I balled up my fists and with all the gusto my little midget legs could muster I ran after him.
Legs pumping, forehead sweating, chest pounding… I was sure my knees would give out any second. Aurther turned a corner but when I got there he was gone. I collapsed against the brick wall of room 303, home of the meanest math teacher on the planet. Gasping for air, I slid to the ground and rested my head against the coolness of the building.
As my eyes closed I could hear the faint sound two voices. It sounded almost like whispers. I opened my eyes and peeked around the corner. There, in the locker room, sat Aurther Miller and Sandy McCullen… kissing!
I gasped just a little too loud and Aurther came flying around the corner, “There you are, you little twerp! I’m gonna get you!”
I picked myself up off the ground and ran right out of the Ethen Elementary School front gates and all the way home.
I came barreling through the front door of my house. My father jumped up in shock and I, equally shocked that he was already home, came to a screeching halt at his feet.
“What’s going on, Billy?” My father looked worried.
“Oh, nothing. I just tripped on my way in the door. That’s all.” I knew that if Aurther ever found out that I had told anyone what I saw, I would be sorry.
“Billy, your mother and I got you something special today! We went down to that pet store where Mrs. Miller works. You know, your friend Aurther’s mother. Well, your mother and I think you are old enough now and we got you that parrot you always wanted!”
My father pulled a sheet off the cage. There stood the most beautiful, green parrot I have ever seen. It was the parrot that once belonged to Aurther himself. Oh if he knew I had this, it would be the end of me.
I grabbed the cage and rushed upstairs. I could barely fit the cage through my bedroom door. I sat the cage on my dresser. I figured I would name it Aurther; seemed appropriate.
For a moment, I just stared at it as it looked around the room and then finally at me. It squinted a little bit, let out a funny noise as if to clear its throat. Then it uttered the last words I would ever hear, “If you ever tell anyone what you saw, I’ll kill you.”
The Parrot Story
“Hey Billy, bet you can’t catch me!” Aurther Miller, the tallest fifth grader you’ve ever seen, taunted me every day at recess while the others egged him on.
“Yeah Billy, go get him!”
“What’s wrong, Billy? Afraid you can’t catch him?”
Their laughter pierced my ears. I could feel the redness rising in my face as I watched Aurther stick his tongue out at me and turn to run away. I balled up my fists and with all the gusto my little midget legs could muster I ran after him.
Legs pumping, forehead sweating, chest pounding… I was sure my knees would give out any second. Aurther turned a corner but when I got there he was gone. I collapsed against the brick wall of room 303, home of the meanest math teacher on the planet. Gasping for air, I slid to the ground and rested my head against the coolness of the building.
As my eyes closed I could hear the faint sound two voices. It sounded almost like whispers. I opened my eyes and peeked around the corner. There, in the locker room, sat Aurther Miller and Sandy McCullen… kissing!
I gasped just a little too loud and Aurther came flying around the corner, “There you are, you little twerp! I’m gonna get you!”
I picked myself up off the ground and ran right out of the Ethen Elementary School front gates and all the way home.
I came barreling through the front door of my house. My father jumped up in shock and I, equally shocked that he was already home, came to a screeching halt at his feet.
“What’s going on, Billy?” My father looked worried.
“Oh, nothing. I just tripped on my way in the door. That’s all.” I knew that if Aurther ever found out that I had told anyone what I saw, I would be sorry.
“Billy, your mother and I got you something special today! We went down to that pet store where Mrs. Miller works. You know, your friend Aurther’s mother. Well, your mother and I think you are old enough now and we got you that parrot you always wanted!”
My father pulled a sheet off the cage. There stood the most beautiful, green parrot I have ever seen. It was the parrot that once belonged to Aurther himself. Oh if he knew I had this, it would be the end of me.
I grabbed the cage and rushed upstairs. I could barely fit the cage through my bedroom door. I sat the cage on my dresser. I figured I would name it Aurther; seemed appropriate.
For a moment, I just stared at it as it looked around the room and then finally at me. It squinted a little bit, let out a funny noise as if to clear its throat. Then it uttered the last words I would ever hear, “If you ever tell anyone what you saw, I’ll kill you.”
Rough Around the Edges
I’m sitting on the back patio of a coffee shop, overlooking the Siuslaw river in Oregon. It’s like I’m on vacation but I end up here every day. I suppose it is time to come to terms with the reality that I live here.
Six months ago I wasn’t even sure I was going to make this move. Now I’m here and am finding it to be a very surreal existence. Am I here? Really? Seriously? My response is a surprisingly casual shrug of the shoulders. Looking around at all that is now my life, I smile.
My mixed emotions and feelings of absolute weirdness about being in a new place seemingly so far from what was once normal and familiar is nothing new. I have been in this place before. This barrage of excitement and fear and anxiety and happiness and the sheer thrill of the new. I find myself recalling all the changes I have been through; some by choice, some not.
It was quite a journey getting here. Not just the two day drive but the mental and emotional beating I put myself through over the past six months. All the petty things I thought I wanted had to be stripped away so I could clearly see the things my heart has always drawn me to in life. Being backed into a corner and forcing myself to find my own priorities and stand on them firmly through all the questioning and spot light accusations really made me learn what it is to be me.
One thing about me though, is that I always try to be somebody else. I always try to be the person everyone else wants me to be. And I have been fighting with that person for years. Beating myself up every day is exhausting. So maybe my critics think it’s extreme and random and unnecessary to have picked up and moved to a whole other state. But driving away from California, I drove away from that person – the one who is constantly seeking to please you.
And I learned another valuable lesson about the very nature of my existence. Where I live does not define me. The friends I have or do not have, does not define me. Even my family does not define me. At the end of the day, I have to make the choice alone. I define me.
I know all you super spiritual yahoos are screaming, “No! No! God defines you! He is the ultimate creator….. blah, blah, blah. Amen.” Yeah, I get it. God created me uniquely, in His image to be a wonderful blessing to those around me, to reflect the wondrous glory of all that is holy. I’ll throw you that bone.
But in reality, in the harsh struggle of learning and understanding and experiencing and becoming… in that reality, I have to come to terms with my own being and my own ability to make decision and my own responsibility for those decisions I make.
And I am finding that to finally be a pretty cool process. So here’s to all that I miss, all that I now have, and all that is to come. Cheers.
Six months ago I wasn’t even sure I was going to make this move. Now I’m here and am finding it to be a very surreal existence. Am I here? Really? Seriously? My response is a surprisingly casual shrug of the shoulders. Looking around at all that is now my life, I smile.
My mixed emotions and feelings of absolute weirdness about being in a new place seemingly so far from what was once normal and familiar is nothing new. I have been in this place before. This barrage of excitement and fear and anxiety and happiness and the sheer thrill of the new. I find myself recalling all the changes I have been through; some by choice, some not.
It was quite a journey getting here. Not just the two day drive but the mental and emotional beating I put myself through over the past six months. All the petty things I thought I wanted had to be stripped away so I could clearly see the things my heart has always drawn me to in life. Being backed into a corner and forcing myself to find my own priorities and stand on them firmly through all the questioning and spot light accusations really made me learn what it is to be me.
One thing about me though, is that I always try to be somebody else. I always try to be the person everyone else wants me to be. And I have been fighting with that person for years. Beating myself up every day is exhausting. So maybe my critics think it’s extreme and random and unnecessary to have picked up and moved to a whole other state. But driving away from California, I drove away from that person – the one who is constantly seeking to please you.
And I learned another valuable lesson about the very nature of my existence. Where I live does not define me. The friends I have or do not have, does not define me. Even my family does not define me. At the end of the day, I have to make the choice alone. I define me.
I know all you super spiritual yahoos are screaming, “No! No! God defines you! He is the ultimate creator….. blah, blah, blah. Amen.” Yeah, I get it. God created me uniquely, in His image to be a wonderful blessing to those around me, to reflect the wondrous glory of all that is holy. I’ll throw you that bone.
But in reality, in the harsh struggle of learning and understanding and experiencing and becoming… in that reality, I have to come to terms with my own being and my own ability to make decision and my own responsibility for those decisions I make.
And I am finding that to finally be a pretty cool process. So here’s to all that I miss, all that I now have, and all that is to come. Cheers.
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