Staring Into the Eyes of Evil

I was talking to class a couple weeks ago¹ with my usual strategy of looking at the ground. I noticed someone in my peripheral vision about to run into me. Reflexively, I look to see who is about to crash into me and judge whatever defensive maneuvers I need to make. I find myself staring into the eyes of her², six inches away.

Time freezes for a moment. The last person I want to see and at a distance I never wanted to be within. My eyes narrow slightly. Hers widen. I am deathly afraid she is going to say something, and I think she is afraid I might say something.

Then, my brain shouts, “MOVE!” My feet begin moving. I don't look back. No words are exchanged. No real acknowledgment shared. As it must be.
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1 As per Al Gore's demands to fight global warming.

2 If you're unclear who this is, backtrack in the blog or follow the “Misadventures in Romance” label.

The Sweet Sorrow

I was listening to the "Wall-E" director commentary the other day. Andrew Stanton was talking about how two people holding hands in public is a big sign of intimacy and comfort. Funnily enough, I had never thought about that. I had thought about holding hands itself, just not in public. Stanton makes sense; one time I was in public with a girl and she held my hand and I wasn't cool with it. I didn't realize why until later: I wasn't really into her.

What I have thought about are three simple words: I miss you. Oh, thought I was going somewhere else with that, weren't you? Take a moment and think about it. It might be something we over look, but that's a powerful feeling, actively feeling less because of the absence of another. To tell that person as much is a very intimate thing. To have it reciprocated? That's very powerful. The first time someone special said that to you, it had a punch, didn't it? I bet it did.

Next time someone says that to me, I'm going to appreciate what's behind those words.

Wonder Years

When I get together with the maternal side of the family, I usually end up playing with my second cousins. The oldest of the four is 10. It's fun, and it certainly beats the banality of conversing with the adults. They are not exciting people.

At the family Christmas, I was goofing around with them when Travis turned to me.

"How old are you?"

"How old do you think I am?"

"I don't know... 13?"

You know, I think it's a compliment, deep down. If real kids think of you as a kid, you're probably doing something right.

Who Are You, Again?

A consequence of the Internet is that things you put on it will probably exist forever.

Case in point: My first blog. It was amusing/horrifying to go back and read me from several years ago. Incidentally, the last real entry was about Dan Lowe.

Why Hasn't This Caught on in America?

I've been watching the Australian Open this week on ESPN 360. On Monday, I opened the window and on the right it has a list of the events being broadcasted. It was all tennis... except for one. Cricket. India vs Bangladesh. No love lost there, right? I think, hey, let's check out some cricket. Maybe I'll see a wicked googly. So I click on it.

I'm greeted by the sight of an empty field with this graphic dominating the screen:

CHITTAGONG, 1ST TEST

TEA HAS BEEN TAKEN

LIGHT PERMITTING PLAY WILL RESUME AFTER TEA HAS BEEN TAKEN

Awesome. Can you imagine that? USA vs Spain, gold medal game in basketball. Halfway through the third quarter, they stop and all have a drink together. Kind of hard to take the game too seriously when that happens, right? Maybe we should try this in the SEC.

Point is, I have no idea what "Chittagong, 1st test" means.