Ladies Preserve The Madness

Marissa Coleman and Maryland shocked Duke to win the title Tuesday. (AP Photo/Elise Amendola)
The 2006 version of the men's NCAA Tournament ended with nary a whimper on Monday night.

The University of Florida won its first national title in its history while barely being challenged by the storied Bruins of UCLA. The final score of 73-57 still wasn't bad enough to reflect how sleep-inducing this game was.

The Gators led by double figures for what seemed like the entire game. It put an end to quite a disappointing Final Four in which all three games were decided by more than 14 points.

There was no doubt in my mind that Florida would win once it advanced to the final game; after all, the Final Four took place in Indianapolis, which is home to Peyton Manning ... and whatever belongs to Peyton Manning, belongs to the Gators because they own him!

But that's another story altogether.

This was by far the most anticlimactic men's tournament that I have ever watched.

It was a tourney that began promisingly enough with a flurry of upsets and amazing buzzer beaters that almost defied logic. But the excitement couldn't be sustained through the final weekend.

I guess ruining millions of brackets out there was excitement enough (and I'm sure my dad was wondering why I was so adverse to filling one out for his office pool before the games started; I knew it was too unpredictable with no dominant teams).

Fortunately, the women picked up the slack with an epic final between an upstart University of Maryland team and a veteran-laden Duke squad.

I would say that I am a pretty casual women's basketball fan. I usually tune in for the big games. I took to watching Tennessee more then a few times this year because of Candance Parker ( to whom I have taken quite a liking, though she is a few inches taller than me). I also kept tabs on North Carolina because their pint-sized dervish Ivory Latta is quite an exciting player, which I'm sure LeBron James would attest to, having attended UNC's Elite Eight victory over Parker's Lady Vols.

The Final Four is where I usually watched more intently since the games fall on the men's off day. But this year, the women's Final Four in Boston became the main event, by virtue of the classic championship game.

Because of the results, I might find myself watching the women's game a lot more in future seasons. Though, I'm sure with the infusion of mega-talented freshman classes matriculating to heavyweight schools in the men's game, they will rebound.

Thanks to a precocious freshman point guard named Kristi Toliver, the Terrapins were able to cap a comeback from a 13-point deficit and force the game into overtime.

Toliver hit a tough fadeaway 16-ft jumper to bring her team within one before Duke made two free throws. She then nailed a 3-pointer with 6 seconds left to send it into the extra session, where Maryland was able to hold Duke off.

By the end of the 78-75 thriller, Maryland had staged the second-largest comeback in the women's tournament title game history.

This is what March Madness is supposed to be all about.

Let me be the first (hopefully) to say that Toliver is like a baby Sam Cassell, with all the big shots she took and made in crunch time. Other players like Shana Doron (16 pts), Marissa Coleman (a new favorite of mine because of her trademark headband and ponytail, as well as how she passes the ball off the pick-and-roll and how tough she plays; she finished with 14 rebounds to accompany 10 points), and Laura Harper (16 pts) played some gutsy basketball and didn't back down to a more experienced Blue Devil team that beat them pretty handily twice during the season.

I thought Duke might pull the game out in overtime when it seemed that their senior leader, Monique Currie was going to take over the game, after hitting a couple shots in a row. But Maryland made all the big plays down the stretch.

What a game. It reminded me of some of the better men's finals I recall watching in the past, such as Arizona-Kentucky, UConn-Duke, and Syracuse-Kansas, to name a few.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, the Florida-UCLA game had all the drama of a first-round tournament game between a stalwart and an also-ran just happy to be there.

I couldn't bear to watch it (and actually missed a good chunk of the first half because nothing else on TV supersedes "24" on Monday night), so I decided to read a book instead and have the radio playing the game in the background. Kevin Harlan, John Thompson and Bill Raftery on the radio were a lot more interesting than the tube's tandem of Jim Nance and Billy Packer (who made the keen observation before the game that these were the two teams playing the best in the tournament ... duh).

The only real buzz about the game to me was the fact that former tennis star Yannick Noah was in the building seeing his son, Joakim, play for like the third time. The rest of the buzz surrounding the game was concerning whether or not Joakim would jump to the NBA Draft (BTW: Does anyone else find it intriguing that the WNBA Draft is on Wednesday? I guess they don't do the same kind of evaluation the men do). The actual game itself was just a complete bore.

But despite the disparate nature of the two games there were at least a couple of similarities between the two champions.

Youth was served in both games, since both Maryland and Florida have very young teams. (Who knows ... a couple of repeat champs, perhaps?). Each of the victorious teams secured their school's first championship in the respective sports.

Congratulations to both of th victors. I must also offer very heartfelt thank you to the participants in Tuesday night's final between Duke and Maryland.

You guys helped put some madness back into the proceedings. Thank you for saving March, ladies. I couldn't be more appreciative if I were a kid who witnessed Christmas being saved by some masked avenger.

It was an aesthetically pleasing contest, to say the least.

See you next season, Terps. I will definitely be tuning in to keep up with you now.

Another Year

Today, March 29th, is the 88th day of the year. I guess 88 is a round enough number for my birthday to fall on.

I'm not really big on birthdays, but I figured I would make my return to the blogging world by paying it a little lip service. I almost didn't because I couldn't remember my username on this thing. But I figured it out eventually ... it must be the aging process.

All things considered, 23 is a pretty cool number. It isn't a palindrome like 22, but the greatest basketball player ever wore a jersey adorned with 23 and I happen to be reading a book about him.

I was just getting comfy wearing 22. Now I have to break in a whole new number, but I think 23 might fit just as well.

I thought it would be fun to do a little research regarding the day. Here is what I came up with.

Notable (to me) Events in March 29th's History:

Births

1867: Cy Young

1945: Walt "Clyde" Frazier

1955: Earl Campbell

1964: Elle MacPherson

1967: Brian Jordan

1968: Lucy Lawless

1976: Jennifer Capriati

1983: Justin Tuck

Deaths

2005: Johnnie Cochran

Events

1799: New York passes a law aimed at abolishing slavery in the state.

1806: Construction of the first U.S. federal highway is authorized.

1950: The Mad Bomber strikes in New York.

1961: The Twenty-third Amendment of the U.S. Constitution is ratified.

1971: A Los Angeles grand jury recommends the death penalty for Charles Manson.

1973: United States withdraws from Vietnam.

2004: The Republic of Ireland becomes first country to ban smoking in all work places, including bars and restaurants.

2006: Predicted solar eclipse.

Wasn't that damned entertaining????

Everybody better bask in the glory of my day! Nah, just kidding. Like I said earlier I'm not very into birthdays. The attention rubs me the wrong way for some reason.

Though I do remember an incident when I was in grade school and I wrote on the chalkboard during an indoor recess (I think it was raining outside) that it was my birthday because I was badly craving attention. This girl noticed and pointed it out, but no one else really paid any mind. Perhaps I made myself not like it in order to shrug off the lack of attention I got then.

Retrospection and introspection are quite interesting.

On that note, I am off to reflect on a bevy of things. One of which is how our concept of time came to be defined. What if the sundial was never created? What if we never figured how many days it took the Earth to rotate around the Sun?

Would we even have age represented by numbers? Perhaps we would simply be grouped into different stages. Yes, this is the kind of place my mind goes on a daily basis.

I think post this might jumpstart my blogging juices once more. I certainly do have a lot of crap that I have written about to myself, it would be a shame not to share at least a little, no?

Until next time ...

Curse of The Groundhog

San Antonio Spurs forward Tim Duncan (21), center, defends Boston Celtics guard Orien Greene (0), foreground, during the third quarter in San Antonio, Friday, Dec. 9, 2005. San Antonio won, 101-89. (AP Photo/Eric Gay)
Since I have been back up in Massachusetts, I have relished being able to watch the home teams play.

On Sundays, instead of trying to use ESPN GameCast to follow Patriots games (pretty much in vain because it’s always a few plays behind live action), I can turn on the TV without having to sit through a Redskins or Ravens game that I really don't care about.

And no knock on the Washington Wizards, the Charlotte Bobcats, or the Chicago Bulls (the latter two would each have an occasional game on TV down in Virginia), but I'd rather watch my Celtics.

The Celtics were my gateway home team. Before I took to the Patriots and then to the Red Sox, I was a diehard Celtics fan. In a state where you see mostly a multitude of Sox and Pats paraphernalia, I feel like I'm a rare breed. Unless you were around for the years when they were wildly successful, chances are the Celtics are but an afterthought.

Not to me though.

I recall my freshman year in college when I would listen to just about every Celtics game on NBA.com when they offered games for free. I lived and died with every game as they made it all the way to the Eastern Conference Finals; its first since 1988.

A couple of years later, I became fed up with the team when they got rid of Antoine Walker (mostly because it netted us Raef frickin' LaFrentz). When he came back last season after a trade during a West Coast trip -- and wearing a green jersey emblazoned with that irregular no. 88 -- I was extremely excited.

But after an exit in the first round of the playoffs at the hands of the Indiana Pacers, I felt more prepared to let go of 'Toine so the franchise could go in another direction.

My return to Massachusetts has evidently coincided with my affinity for the team spiking once more.

Last weekend, I watched the Celtics play the defending-champion Spurs in San Antonio; a team for which you could make an argument is the NBA version of the Pats.

Going into this game, the Celts had lost 16 games in a row to the Spurs (including a romp earlier in the season in Boston), which makes for the longest winning run any team has against another in the league today.

I figured the game might be interesting; Paul Pierce and Ricky Davis are each having their best year in the league and the group of young talent can be pretty exciting, though they haven't been able to cobble together any winning streaks yet.

The Celtics played tough and hung in there most of the way. I thought there was hope when they got within 3 points in the third quarter, to make it a 56-53 score. Unfortunately not much has changed, as the Spurs reeled off a tidy run, which earned them a 14-point advantage. I knew it was over right then and elected to watch the game offered on ESPN instead.

Number 17 for the Spurs was as good as in the bank. The final score turned out to be 101-89.

After I saw the final score, I began to think of the history of the Spurs' dominance over the C's.

As was brought up during the game several times, the Celtics have never been able to beat Spurs since they acquired Tim Duncan with the first pick of the 1997 NBA Draft.

During his great career, Duncan has won three titles and as many Finals MVP awards. His team is the odds-on favorites to win another one. The Celtics are simply rebuilding on the fly with hopes of squeezing into the playoffs.

Since the masochists that are Boston fans no longer have the Curse of the Bambino about which to lament, I propose a new one: the Curse of the Groundhog.

Charles Barkley and Kenny Smith of TNT affectionately refer to Duncan as "Groundhog Day" for his consistent play. The fact of the matter is that we should have had him in '97.

I remember that ill-fated ML Carr-led team the season before that won 15 games (I particularly recount the Celtics winning a game in Denver or Milwukee, and a fan yelled to Carr that he shouldn't be trying to win, as he was leaving for the lockerroom) but would have been better served had they went 0-82, in order to have a better chance to get Duncan, who -- coming out of Wake Forest -- was pretty much the lone sure thing in that draft. By virtue of our poor record, we had one of the best chances to land the first pick in the NBA Draft Lottery. Hell, since we had Dallas' lottery pick as well, we just had to get it.

But it never works out that way.

The lottery yielded us the 3rd and 6th picks in the draft (Chauncey Billups and Ron Mercer weren’t very long for the world as Celtics). All hopes of getting Tim Duncan faded. He and David Robinson were destined to be bookends, as the two would team to form the indomitable Twin Towers.

I was devastated. In the days leading up to the lottery, I would write down Duncan's and Mercer's vitals and penciled then into the C's starting lineup on my brown paper bag book covers, since I thought it was such a sure thing we would get them. Even the murmurs that Duncan didn't want to come to Boston didn' t deter me from dreaming. But unfortunately, Iended up being only half-right.

Yet after losing out on the Duncan sweepstakes, I still watched and documented the draft. I'll never forget when Spurs coach Gregg Popovich was being interviewed via satellite, there was a Duncan no. 21 jersey hanging behind him. Insult to injury indeed.

But it was probably for the best. I mean, who could imagine Rick Pitino, the little Italian guy with his know-it-all swagger, expensive suits, and the big mouth that would bark commands to his players until his face turned purple (my dad would said Pitino reminded him of the Taco Bell Chihuahua) coaching Duncan?

How could you trust a guy who signed Travis Knight and Chris Mills to long-term deals in the same off-season? Pitino probably would have screwed him up had he got his slimy hands on him. Who knows, maybe Duncan would have ended up just another "Never Nervous" Purvis Ellison ("Hardly Timid" Duncan, anyone?).

But still, I imagine what it would be like if Duncan were the centerpiece of our franchise. He and Paul Pierce would definitely be touted as one of the top duos in the league.

I then recalled a game my dad took me to in Duncan's second or third season that the Spurs won handily. We were able to get pretty good seats (which had been the case every time I went to the FleetCenter since people wouldn't show up) and I distinctly remember Duncan and teammate Antonio Daniels joking around on the sideline during the game. These guys definitely weren't worried about losing to the Celtics, that's for sure.

As I got back to my senses the day after the Spurs hung that 17th loss on a row on the Celts, I was infuriated by a score I saw on the ticker while during another Celtics game.

The Atlanta Hawks beat the Spurs by a score of 94-84.

"Oh, c'mon! What the hell?!?!" I yelled at the screen.

How come the lowly Hawks beat the Spurs? I mean didn't they start the season 0-9 (getting their first win against the Celts, oddly enough)? Where's the justice? I bet Duncan threw the damn game to torture our franchise even more!

Well, I guess that type of frustration is what a curse is all about. I wonder if the Celtics will ever break the Curse of the Groundhog.

Defying Intuition

Steve Kaufman struggles with whiteout conditions while returning grocery carts. (Bear Cieri/Metrowest Daily News)
Snow the likes of which I hadn't seen in at least a couple of years ultimately didn't deter me from trying to keep a 2:30 appointment on Friday.

I hadn't been up to Massachusetts last year for the winter and those who know me would know that I wouldn't remember where I was or what the conditions were like the winter before. So it's fair to say that I've dodged some snow-ridden bullets for quite some time.

It started coming down at about 3 a.m. and by the time I had gotten up at about 9, it was piling on. I went outside to clear off my car to warm it up in order to make it easier to do so later.

I went back inside with the intent of never coming out again. I would huddle up in a cover and just relax, because nothing was going to move out there anyway. If my brother didn't have to go to school then why the hell would I have to trifle with some appointment? I was committed to the notion that I would have no obligation for rest of the day other than perhaps shoveling.

Well ... that's how I probably should have gone about it. Instead, I ended up watching the clock for the time would begin my trip to Wellesley. I was once again defying my intuition.

Then came a sprig of "hope" in the afternoon: the snow let up and I figured maybe it wouldn’t be that bad when making my drive. I planned to wait until I would leave at around 20 to 2:00, since conditions weren't optimal to do a speed job.

I called in to make sure if my appointment was still on and was told it is unless I had any safety concerns, which I never really have anyway. I still had my doubts about even getting there for some reason, though.

My doubts were verified in a big way. By the time I got back outside to warm up the car, another deluge of snow had begun. As I tried to clear the car off, it felt like I was being pelted with potatoes. The snow was ruthlessly coming to the ground, with a force that almost took me to the ground several times. As soon as I cleaned off the windshield, another coat of snow would accumulate within an eye-blink’s time.

The clear sign should have come when I attempted driving my car. I started moving fine, but then I got stuck. No matter how much maneuvering I did, I couldn't get out of my spot on the side of the street.

I walked back in somewhat defeated. I told my dad I intended to reschedule because it was about to be 2:00 and there was no chance I'd make it with the gaggle of ignoramuses who freak out when they see snow like it was something new.

"You should make it if you leave now," he told me.

That was all I needed to hear. I don't seem to trust myself as much as I do him. And why not? His "Spider Sense" has more often been truer than mine, including the time he made the call about my landlord down in Virginia being a complete prick. I decided to do business with him anyway and it turned out to be a mistake.

So I put my own intuitive faculties aside and perhaps for machismo's sake decided to make another go at it.

"You can take my car if you want," he told me. Great. Now I had to clear off and warm up another car, but fortunately his does so faster than mine. I was off.

But I never made the appointment, just as I had known deep inside.

After being stuck in traffic on Union Avenue for a bit, I finally made it to the Mass Pike, only to see the snow intensify. All I could see out of the windshield was white and the brake lights of cars in front of me.

At one point my wipers stopped working and I had to get out in the middle of the highway to get the ice off of them so they could move and also clear off the rear window. I got stuck in a budding snow bank on the ramp to I-90 that I didn't even see coming. A fit of rage -- a frenzied outburst of pushing on the gas while alternately turning the wheel and shifting the transmission -- got me out.

The next two hours and change were spent trying to find a way out of the traffic and a reasonable route back home. The mission obkective changed once my doctor ended up calling and told me we could reschedule, so I put the kibosh on trying to get there.

I had the chance to listen to more than enough sports radio, as I was stuck in heavy traffic most of the time. I got an earful of the topics du jour: Reggie Bush being the frontrunner for the Heisman Trophy and the speculation about a disgruntled Miguel Tejada coming to the Red Sox.

I thought. I wrote. I lamented the fact that I didn't listen to my intuition once again and it bit me in the ass ... once again.

I got the same feeling that I didn't heed when I initially knew that I wouldn't finish the school I left, which will go unnamed for now on. My instincts usually find themselves drowned out by my rush-hour thought process.

I got several calls from my dad. He evidently doesn't realize I have a sense of direction or know how to work the defroster, for that matter. On the last call, he conceded that it was probably a bad idea to leave the house.

If it had been anyone else, my response would have undeniably been, "no shit."

It's amazing to me that the people around here who can't seem to ever figure out how to drive in the snow are on the road at the same place and at the same time. Couldn't help but think of them all as dumb asses since I had no real problems negotiating my way through the roads when I had a clear path, despite the fact that I haven't had to under such conditions in a while.

I don't think I'll ever grasp such things on the surface. But intuitively I believe I do, I just have to pay more attention.

After finally finding my way back via Route-9, I actually passed the house with the driveway I shoveled a countless number of times during my adolescence. There was this scrawny fellow out there in a sweatshirt trying to take on the whole driveway himself.

"Good luck, buddy," I uttered to myself with a snicker as I drove by. I don't miss doing that at all.

I got back to our place and commenced shoveling to make a space for my dad's car and to free mine. That took a while, but at least the snow had died down by then. I had to clean off my car for a third time since it looked like it hadn't been touched all day.

What was estimated to be only about 6 inches or so, ended up being roughly 14 inches.

If only I'd learn to trust myself for once, I wouldn't have spent a nice chunk of my day practically stranded. Then again, I wouldn't have had this entry to write.

Coming Up For Air

Greetings, Blogosphere. Long time, no see.

I have come out from under the depths of a month-long layoff -- spent mostly within the innermost recesses of my mind -- to drop a long-overdue entry on you guys. Though I'm not sure if this is a return to posting on a consistent basis, it is a return nonetheless.

Before the layoff, it was becoming sort of a staple for me to open my entries by noting how I hadn't blogged in some time and the resulting flack I get for it.

This having been the longest layoff that RFC has had since its inception, I have gotten plenty more requests for a return. This includes people whom I don't even know. The exact cause for all the hubbub, I can't fully comprehend.

I'm certain that there are countless blogs out there with much more entertaining material, complete with superior writing. Looking through my archives, it's evident to me how a lot of my more-celebrated entries are truly much ado about nothing. So really, how much should my blog be missed?

After a few weeks of not blogging, my Internet was finally cut off (a little while after I thought it would), giving me more of an excuse to not get back into it. Evidently, Verizon expected me to pay them each month for their services. I'm quite tickled by that.

But the major reason for which I haven't blogged at all has been more to do with a trying mental occupation than anything else.

The fact of the matter also is that the last two entries that I have posted felt ridiculously forced.

There really was no point or meaning at all to them. I feel like I have something vital to write and express, but I'm just having difficulty tapping into that. It was like the banality with which I feel society is inundated was throwing me off.

I had no clarity. I had no focus.

The number of rough drafts that I have saved on this blog has increased so much that it might eventually begin to rival the number of actual posts.

After a while, I decided to not put any pressure myself (which is something I do constantly in life) to come up with entries and just let them flow freely.

Because of a healthy disdain for when people try to sound really deep, I tend to avoid giving any real inside looks as I explore my mind on the blog. But I feel now is as good a time as any to do so.

My blogging patterns actually coincide with what's going on in my life. I made a change that I mentioned deciding on in my last entry (see: #13).

I am currently up in Framingham with my brother and father. I have finally left what felt like a state of solitary confinement in Virginia and am looking for a new start elsewhere. I have severed ties with Hampton University and I'm not looking back.

Saturday, November 19th, I loaded up a Penske truck, hitched a trailor for my car to it and then made what turned out to be a 16-hour journey back up to the Bay State. Not being able to drive as fast as I would in a regular car and paying even more ridiculous toll prices (c'mon New York, $19.95 then $24.95 right after? You bastards!) were the standout elements of that particular trip.

Over the course of the weeks leading up to my move, it felt like I was in my own personal hell.

My mind was in perpetual motion, moving at like 100 miles a minute. My inability to relax -- already typically to the point where relaxing is a foreign concept to me -- increased. While all this is usual stuff for me, the environment that surrounded me was least conducive to maintaining my overall well being.

My mental restlessness was a big part of why I could never sleep until my body was completely out of gas, even with the alleged aid of sleeping pills. Another is this damned tinnitus I have, which quite frankly, I'm surprised hasn't driven me to complete madness and an ensuing killing spree.

(A quick aside: after watching "American Psycho" for the first time the week of Halloween, I thought to myself: what's stopping me from being a serial killer? I settled on the fact that there has to be some measure of planning involved and I'm pretty lazy when it comes to foresight. Creepy huh?)

During the times I couldn't sleep, I engrossed myself in surfing the Net as I read other blogs and looked up articles and information (mostly on sports and movies). I also watched anything that was at least half-interesting on TV just so I could keep from brooding about everything that plagues my mind.

Sometimes I felt as though I was on the brink of insanity. I get so clueless that I don't know what to do with myself. I think myself into a tight corner, as my own mind seems to work against me.

As that state progesses, even the most mundane tasks seem extraordinarily difficult. Every small obstacle ahead of me gets extremely hard to overcome. The thing that comes close to pleasuring me at this point is doing absolutely nothing. Anything else I might usually enjoy becomes a laboring task.

Despair ensues. The world turns against me. No one understands, not even those who matter most to me. I'm aware that not hearing from me or being able to reach me upsets them greatly, which makes me wish that they didn't care so they wouldn't have to suffer.

I have no illusions to the contrary when it comes to the fact that I am difficult to care about since I can be so enigmatic. Fortunately, it will probably be easier now that I am closer to those people.

The withdrawal -- when I can't stand to talk to anyone -- increases by what seems like tenfold during my descent. I can't seem to deal with the prospect of fumbling over myself trying explaining the problem, which never works.

I try to swallow my issues and play them off as nothing. People go through a lot worse in life than I have, what right have I to complain? I tend to get rankled when others make this insinuation because I have it lingering in my mind. I wouldn't dare say my life is bad by any means. Sure I've sustained bumps and bruises along the way like anyone else, but it's the capacity with which I deal with them that concerns me.

While ruminating, I wonder whether my struggles are simply self-induced as a means for a cry for help, like a subconscious attempt to attract attention to myself, something I usually eschew and say I don't care to receive. I suppose I should 'fess up and say I like attention. But of course, it's contingent upon from whom.

Despite my stoic visage, I'll admit that I need love and I'm pretty sensitive.

When I'm at my absolute nadir, I become emotionally numb and completely empty. Simple tasks like eating and washing become afterthoughts. Classes and school in general don't matter. All my other duties of the day are nothing but backburner fodder. I become stuck in a complete holding pattern, where nothing at all seems to mean anything to me.

This showed notably when it took me way too long to get this form that I needed to fill out to leave the school completed. Between the lack of sleep at reasonable hours and my angst, it couldn't get done. Fortunately once my father and I set a day for me to leave, I caught some fire and got the thing done in time.

I don't expect anyone to get me or my decision (especially the timing), which is why I hardly told a soul down in Virginia about the escape. Then again, I wasn't really that close with anyone to get into it on more than a superficial level.

The change needed to be done and I'm glad that it was. I had capsized mentally too many times down there for me to stay. I had been too miserable there for too long trying to lower my shoulders and just push through it. It just wasn't working.

While I regret not pulling the trigger on this move when I thought about doing so the last few years, I'm glad that I was able to finally work up the fortitude to actually go through with it this time.

After I recovered from the grueling trip to Framingham, which included a streak of almost 40 hours straight with no sleep, I have felt somewhat refreshed mentally. Since I have been able to rein in a case of asthmatic bronchitis, I have actually been able to sleep before the sun comes up in the morning. I feel quite liberated.

Though I honestly have no clue as to what the hell I am going to do next, I'm confident that it will come as I get myself upright. I'm sure I can attain some perspective and direction.

While things have improved already, I know I have a long way to go. While it may be dormant now, I still struggle with an anxiety that -- at its worst -- can be quite crippling. I also still try to comprehend things about life that the human mind probably doesn't have the capacity to or perhaps wasn't even meant to comprehend.

Someone incredibly special to me (you can probably guess who, judging by a previous entry) told me that I can't figure life out all at once. But the way my mind works, it seems like it tries to get everything there is to get in one fell swoop, but I'll work on that. I will also work on trying not to make things extra difficult for myself.

Who knows. Maybe if she and I could run away from it all for a little while, those tasks might be much easier for me to accomplish.

She has been more of a help to me than she might even know.

Scattered Shots

1. I hereby declare that this entry is a way to get around my recent lack of focus to write a ... well, a focused entry.

2. Baseball on-field victory celebrations seem so contrived. The White Sox didn't look nearly excited enough when they won the World Series. The whole thing just seemed so forced to me.

That reminds me about how the Astros might as well have been playing pattycake when they won the NLCS; such a lame and sterile celebration.

Now the Super Bowl, that's when you get to see how it's really done.

Anyway ... out goes baseball, in comes basketball. The circle of life.

3. I can't get used to hearing the words, "diehard White Sox fan." Evidently, they exist and George Lopez is one. I never heard the term before this season.

And do bandwagon fans have hearts? I wonder. A fan who jumps on a bandwagon like that is the equivalent of a woman who is a gold digger.

A prime example of the bandwagon phenomenon I recall was in 2002 when people hopped on the Celtics' as they made a run to the conference finals. Once the C's lost to the Nets those same people were the ones to kick them in the nuts. I found that quite annoying.

Nah nahs and congrats:

Miss Krys: How does it feel when the bandwagon crashes and bursts into flames? Nah nah nah boo boo, to you!

And congrats to Miss South Side, Dayna.

4. Bud Selig is my least favorite sports commissioner. I don't like anything about him really; his voice, his name, how he dealt with the steroids thing.

But then again, the least liked commissioner tag probably doesn't mean much since I'm only really considering three leagues.

5. "Batman Returns" was on ABC family Wednesday night. This movie was OK to have on there, but they have shown others that you wouldn't think belong on that channel.

I don't get how Michelle Pfeiffer (to my surprise, I discovered when I looked up her name that I actually spelled it right) becomes the Catwoman in this movie. I hadn't seen this movie in ages and couldn't help but be perplexed by this.

Christopher Walken -- in a rarified air of creepiness in this film, even for him -- pushes her out of a window and when she lands cats lick her wounds. She returns home in a nutty daze and then begins to tailor her catsuit. That doesn't explain to me how she gained the capacity to kick ass and do back flips like she was doing.

I can't believe I bought her transformation story as a kid. I wonder how Halle Berry's character became Catwoman. Someone tell me so I don't have to look it up or actually see it!

6. I am extremely hard on myself with it comes to making bone-headed mistakes. I seem to really internalize them and berate myself for being so dumb.

The two that come to my mind when thinking about this are when I was in a play like three years ago and I forgot a line. The other was about two years ago when I locked my keys in my car, which I do every once in a while anyway but I got pissed that time because I held up a trip to D.C. for three others who rode with me.

My latest brain fart was making a call to a house at 1:30, forgetting about other occupants of the home.

7. How come everybody seems to misspell definitely the same way? I see "definately" way more than often. I tend to misspell the word at times as well, but never with that "a."

I usually pull a "definetely."

8. "Doom": Without giving anything away, I think there should be a sequel to this movie in order to flesh out some things. I just think there needs to be more Hell and a more central villian. The movie has been getting thrashed by gamers and movie critics alike, but I don't think it was that bad. It entertained me at least.

9. I forgot to mention how much I liked seeing such a vast array of diverse people in one place when I was traveling via the subway for the first time in NY a few weeks ago.

And dammit, I felt like I was ascending from a mine or something as I went up the escalator. It was so hot down on the lower levels.

That trip will go down in my drives of lunacy, won't it?

Maybe, but it will have to rank behind that 14-hour trip from Memphis in which I didn't sleep much the night before. Seven-plus hours up on a Saturday, then back down the following day.

I forgot to complain about the tolls too. I spent at least 18 bucks going in each direction. On the way back, I was actually short 50 cents on one of the last tolls after frantically scrounging for change (fortunately the lady let me through after deliberating with somebody). The good thing about the Memphis drives was that there was not a single toll.

Despite the lack of sleep, the duration of the drive, and the tolls it was well worth it anyway.

10. I miss the Patriots' Rodney Harrison clotheslining people and ripping their helmets off during tackles. While I did relish when Asante Samuel absolutely leveled Denver's Jeb Putzier a few weeks ago, I've still got a fever and the only prescription is Rodney Harrison's malicious takedowns. That is one angry man.

Speaking of Harrison and the devastating injury to his knee in Pittsburgh last month, how come networks replay these type of injuries over and over?

That was the worst injury I have seen live since Willis McGahee went down in the 2003 Tostitos Fiesta Bowl against Ohio State (a game in which I still think Miami was robbed).

I just can't stand to see extremities bend in ways they should not. I almost gagged when I dislocated an index finger durign a basketball game in high school, not because of the pain, but how it looked.

It makes my stomach turn when I see injuries like those endured by McGahee and Harrison, once let alone replayed in slow motion from 15 angles. That's just gratuitous, man. Next thing you know, somebody is going to lose a limb and they are going to show it over and over and over.

I knew right when he went down that Harrison's season was done, though I had to tell Jasmine otherwise and hope for the best.

11. And though the Pats are 3-3 and their defense is atrocious and they have a gaggle of injuries, I still have faith in them each week. Now, do I have Super Bowl faith? I'm not sure, but I don't think it will hurt much if they don't win ... sort of like how it didn't when the Sox lost to the Chicago.

During the playoffs last year, I told Jasmine, the consummate faithful-but-way-too-pessimistic Boston fan, during the playoffs that if they didn't win it then, then they never would because all the pieces were in place but would be disbanded in time for the next season. She was predictably pissed at this statement because there are just some things you just shouldn't tell her. I mean the girl needs to be consoled whenever the Pats drop a game (after she calms down, of course, since she probably broke some objects during the game).

I recall this guy during my summer in Memphis (during one of those awkward bathroom conversations ... why do people start these at work?) asking me if I was a Sox fan and I said yes, though I didn't think they would win it this year. He disagreed but I ended up being right. So, I was basically prepared for their first-round loss.

12. I feel like I'm in a little bit of a bind. After being consumed with it in years past, these days I usually don't care much if people like me. But now I do care with one particular person who doesn't seem to very much. I guess it's only because they are close to an important person to me.

13. I'm in the process of making a big change in my life; one that I have struggled with deciding to make the last couple of years. Two people other than my father and brother are aware of it and I think that's enough.

14. It's nice to see a fellow Framinghamite and former high school teammate doing big things athletically. I have to admit though, I'm slightly green. I miss being athletic.

Luckily, I have gotten the last few Boston College games out here and I'm getting this week's since they play #3 Virginia Tech tonight on ESPN. I'm rooting for an upset.

15. I find it a little funny how Sheryl Swoopes thinks her coming out is as big a deal as it would be if one of her male counterparts did the same. I would have to think the ripple would be bigger if an NBA player made this declaration during his career. And in the NFL? That'sa no contest, I think the guy who comes out in the NFL while he is still a on the field might as well kiss both of his ACLs (and perhaps MCLs) away.

I find it even more amusing when she mentioned she just won the MVP during a TV appearance and I had no clue this happened. I'm shocked that I'm aware that Sacramento won the title this year. I actually remember that Seattle did last year and Detroit won the year before.

And while I'm talking about the WNBA: I hate to be mean but the WNBA has the least attractive women in sports, though I do like Swin Cash and Alana Beard.

I haven't followed that league since the first season in 1997. I recall playing ball one lovely summer day and one of my buddies mentioned how Lisa Leslie missed a dunk. Of course, most of us had seen it and we laughed because it reminded us of this Sprite commercial where dude got stuffed by the rim trying to imitate some NBA player.

Anyway, I'm not sure the same scene would happen now because I doubt any of us would have been watching the game to see since the novelty of the league is long gone.

16. A majority of all that I read in general is sports these days. I have at least 50 newspaper sports sections bookmarked on my browser.

Funny how before this post, I very seldom mention sports on the blog, huh?

No? Well, it's funny to me dammit.

17. Was Rosa Parks' lawsuit against Outkast still active when she died? Again, I'm too lazy to find out myself.

18. I teared up a little last Sunday (R.I.P Mike). That' s about as close to cryng as I have gotten in a while; a while being two years. I think I might have this subconscious thing going where I insulate my feelings.

19. I can tell there are people who don't approve of my burgeoning and increasingly unkempt beard. Oh, well ... I think it will be helpful during the winter to keep my face warm. As a matter of fact, I'll keep it until after the winter is over.

20. I don't pay attention to politics much at all anymore. I just mostly get it from "The Daily Show" and "The Colbert Report," like I'm sure a lot of people in my age bracket do now.

I used to watch CNN and read multiple papers each day. I guess I just got burnt out in that area.

21. I have taken to just being lazy with my away messages and using direct quotes from TV shows. "The Colbert Report" has dropped some golden nuggets since it came on air.

22.I bowed out graciously (not sure anything I do would be graceful, so I'll stick with gracious) when I realized that my streak of double-digit commented-on posts ended at six. A damned good run, it was.

23. I find it amazing how network TV has finally caught my attention. I don't know when or how it happened, but I watch shows like "Lost," "Invasion," "My Name Is Earl," "Joey," "ER," and "Will & Grace" every now and then.

This never used to be the case.

24. I almost feel bad for having the word random in my blog title since so many other blogs do. I'll get over it.

25. Even though I'm sure he won't read this, I have to take a moment to mention the younger Brother LeMaine's 18th birthday, which is tomorrow the 28th.

Happy Birthday, B.!

The Invisible What, Now?

Hello, folks. It's been a little more than a week since I last posted and of course I have been harassed because of it. Hey, the baseball playoffs and both the college and pro football seasons are well underway, so there shouldn't be any doubt that I'm going to post less frequently.

You guys know how short my attention span can be even in regular circumstances. It has been twice as hard to sit down and cobble the focus to string together an entire post. Give me a break already.

Anyway, speaking of that last post, what a post that was, huh? I openly professed my feelings for a great girl in open-letter form and I got the most comments ever on the blog. I should just retire from blogging. I mean I'll never top 40, right?

Even though there was multiple comments from the some people, that 40 still represents a crapload which obliterated my previous high. I wasn't aware that the space for comments could be used as a forum for arguments like it was. Furthermore, the disputes didn't involve me at all. Sheesh.

Onto the goods...

Last Friday, I was sitting in Barnes & Noble just reading and having a grand ole time. As is my wont, I sometimes have trouble focusing (surprised?) there because I tend to always pick up on strange things people say or do.

Yea, I'm a people watcher. There is a lot of entertainment value in this endeavor for me.

Anyway, the latest notable incident that I took note of was when this guy in a suit was walking and this woman called out to him, referring to him as "Reverend." They exchange pleasantries and begin to catch up.

I wasn't paying too much attention to them until the woman said the words, "I have to wait for the invisible penises to help me." My ears perked right up and another woman sitting at a table between me and the pair looked over at me and smirked.

I initially figured I misheard what the lady said, but then she said "invisible penises" a few more time. My eyebrow was fully raised at that point and I actually begin making some notes on the pad which I usually have tucked in my back pocket.

It took long enough, but Rev. finally asked, "Invisible what?" She shot back, "Penises! ... don't act like you don't know God has a penis."

I was sitting there like, what the hell is this crazy woman talking about?!?! She said a few more eyebrow-raising things, like how she was held on a spaceship in Washington, D.C., and all her organs were taken. She also said that she was chosen to be the black spiritual leader and there was another person chosen to be the white one.

The whole time she had this dead-serious look on her face. Rev. didn't seem to question or dispute anything she said, which I found interesting because I would have definitely expressed my incredulity. Enabling bastard.

I guess I'm just mad because my curiosity was left wanting.

1. I recently first saw a commercial for the movie "Get Rich or Die Tryin'." Now usually an ad for this movie wouldn't draw my attention at all, but there were two reasons for which I did actually look at the TV, one being because Joy Bryant is in it (she was looking GREAT on Conan O'Brien this week, by the way), but that isn't the one I will key in on here.

The main reason is because it said the movie was starring "Curtis '50 Cent' Jackson."

I laughed when I heard this name was uttered. I said to myself, "What is this Monday Night Football?" That sounded something along the lines of self-proclaimed Torry "Big Game" Holt of the St. Loius Rams.

Anyway, I guess 50 Cent is trying to legitimize his acting career while keeping his recording name to sucker fans into seeing it. My opinion is you should go one route. You can't have it both ways buddy! You're either 50 Cent or Curtis Jackson.

I mean LL Cool J isn't billed as James "LL Cool J" Smith in any of his movies. André 3000 has yet to be called André "André 3000" Benjamin, as far as my research tells me. Tyrese isn't Tyrese "Tyrese" Gibson in the upcoming "Annapolis" ( and don't get me started on how Tyrese plays the superior and mentor to James Franco in this film but is actually younger than him in real life).

I guess I'm forgetting the most important fact of all here. Not the fact that 50 Cent is going by Curtis "50 Cent" Jackson, but the fact that he is starring in a movie! Why is this happening?

2. I don't really watch the nightly news here, which is the exact opposite of when I spent the summer in Memphis since I watched it each evening. I have speculated on it being because of me being weary of news, or the fact that I didn't have cable there half the time, and the fact that I didn't have the Internet.

I made the decision that it was for another reason: a lack of Dee Griffin.


She always captivated me while watching ABC 24's "Eyewitness News" each night. She is quite attractive and energetic. I have to think that despite all my distractions here, I would still take the time to see her.

None of the anchors here seem to measure up at all. Quite the pity.

And to think, when I was younger I used to roll my eyes at my dad when he would jokingly call an anchorwoman back home his "girlfriend." I guess I can dub Dee my first anchor "girlfriend."

3. Movies:

A. I saw "Waiting" last week. I tickles me how many people have said to me, "You saw what?" or "What is that?" when I tell them about it. I wasn't aware the movie was that obscure.

The movie was really hilarious, though. I laughed aloud several times. While it was such a humorous movie, there is a valuable lesson to be learned from it: never fuck with people who handle your food, as Ryan Reynolds' character put it.

And speaking of Reynolds; I like that guy. His characters always amuse me, most notably in movies like "Van Wilder" and "Blade: Trinity."

B. I liked "Two for The Money." I haven't taken the time to look up any of the reviews, but it was entertaining for me as a sports fan to see a take on the world of football gambling.

Even though it seems Al Pacino plays the same guy in every movie these days, he's always entertaining and I still laughed when he said, "tah-lawns."

The last real look at sports gambling that I recall seeing was in an old episode of "The Simpsons" when Homer had Lisa making picks for him. Classic episode.

Anyway, the movie made me think about how these people who guarantee their picks on Sunday will be right are so full of crap. I mean you might have stats and insider information, but how can you say for sure you know how a game is going to end up without claiming that you're some kind of psychic?

This has always gotten to me about handicappers.

C. "Domino" was ... hm ... I won't say it was bad but it wasn't very good, either.

The movie had its moments. I was intrigued with the exploration of bounty hunting and Domino's path into it, but a lot of times during the movie I felt like i was watching a music video. And there was a lot of crap that I thought was unnecessary (i.e. too much Mo'Nique).

I think the beginning was good, but around the middle it just started going nowhere and I wanted it to get to the end. Around the end when the plot unfolded it got interesting again, but the very end wasn't good.

The lesson here, kids?

Never trust a movie that has both Mo'Nique and Macy Gray in it.

Seriously, I was waiting for Mo'Nique to get shot because her character was so obnoxious! She played too big a damn role in this movie; even bigger than my man Christopher Walken for crissakes!

I don't see any reason why she should be on the big screen. But I guess I should blame myself, I knew she was in it and still gave it a chance.

Maybe I should pay more attention to the director of movies. I usually pay more attention to the concept of a movie and then to the actors.

Before I saw it, my colleague Marcela brought to my attention that Tony Scott, the same guy who made "Man on Fire" did "Domino" as well. It seems this movie was a lot more schizo than "Man on Fire."

I actually remember liking "Man on Fire" because it had some uniqueness to it, though some of it was gratuitous. And of course it had Denzel Washington to carry it and he was real bad ass. But Scott got way ahead of himself with "Domino" and overdid it a bit, to say the least.

I am now doubly leery of another movie I'm interested in: "Stay" with Ewan McGregor because the same guy who made "Monster's Ball" is responsible for it. I'm still convinced that "Monster's Ball" was solely a vehicle for Halle Berry's ass. There can't be any other reason that pointless movie was made.

D. Among the recent previews that have caught my attention is the one for "Jarhead." I'm not usually too much into war movies but this one looks worth it, though I find it amusing that the only movie I recall seeing with Jake Gyllenhaal in it is "Bubble Boy."

I was sold on that film when Jamie Foxx said, "I love this job. I thank God for every day he gives me in the Corps ... ooh rah."

I also plan to see "Doom" (first obviously, because comes out like, now); along with "Syriana" featuring George Clooney and Matt Damon; and "Just Friends" with the aforementioned Ryan Reynolds.

4. I forgot to mention Fantasia's illiteracy when that news broke. I'm sure some of those who know that I am not too fond of her probably thought I would use my blog to poke fun at her but it wasn't really worth writing about to me. That is, until I discovered she had a book out!

If I ever were to take over the world, a decree would be that no one who is illiterate may release a book that is purportedly written by them. And if they do indeed exist, all the copies of the books shall be burned and all people involved in making the book be liquidated. That'll teach 'em to fake the funk.

Maybe I'm just annoyed because if it weren't for other people and their obsession with "American Idol," I doubt I would know who she is. How come she has a book out and I don't?

5. If anyone knows how to post an audio file on a blog let me know. I have a file I would like to share with the world and I can't seem to figure it out.

Any pointers would be greatly appreciated.

6. October 19th was Mike's 23rd birthday. If you know me and don't know who that is, you can get an idea here and here. October 23rd will mark the anniversary of that day.