He wasn’t wearing a tie.

I don’t know about you, but when someone is selling me something (in this case Tiger trying to sell me the fact that he is sorry. *Cough* *cough* bullsh_t *cough* *cough*) I prefer they’d be wearing a tie. It shows me that they’re taking the whole thing seriously. Sans tie gives the impression of someone who is down to earth and laid back, which is not what you want in this situation. If you want me to believe you, wear a tie. And none of that Jonas Brothers/Justin Timberlake casual tie BS! Hate that look. Wear a formal tie with a Windsor knot. That way, you can do the “let me be straight with you” tie-loosen to earn my trust.

He shouldn’t have read from cards.

With all the advancements we’ve seen in teleprompter technology, there’s absolutely no reason for you to come out to address the public with written notes on 3X5 cards. It makes me think you scribbled down your speech 15 minutes before you came out. That, or you’re studying for a French test. Forbes estimated Tiger’s net worth to be $600 million last year. So he could certainly afford to obtain Barack Obama’s teleprompters for this presser.

When you’re reading from 3X5 cards, you have to keep looking down. I once read somewhere that when a person breaks eye contact from another person, the direction their eyes move indicates their level of confidence. If, for example, I’m looking at you, and we make eye contact, then I look down, it indicates I am intimidated or that I am not confident. If I look away to the side, I’m confident and not intimidated. (No idea what it means if I look up after looking you in the eye, so don’t ask.)

Anyway, Tiger had to keep looking down, which makes us naturally question how committed he was to the words on those cards since he didn’t appear confident. And when you add in the awkward pauses that were created when looking at the cards, it appears insincere. Unnatural breaks in a conversation create the appearance of dishonesty. It’s like stalling. We all consciously know he needs to pause to look at the cards, but subconsciously will still think he’s being dishonest.

There were also a few points in the presser that he looked like he was making forced pauses. It was like he was counting in his head the number of seconds to pause. One of the instances was when he was denying allegations that Elin hit him. He said:

Elin has shown enormous grace and poise throughout this ordeal. (seemingly forced pause) (Head shake) Elin deserves praise not blame.

It could have been that Tiger picked a bad time to forget what to say next. Or it could have been a forced pause. It just seemed forced the way it played out.

He misused inflection.

Anyone who is a skilled public speaker knows how to use inflection to their advantage. Without even knowing how to use, most people know how different inflection changes the meaning of a sentence. “I’m so sorry” is not the same as “I am soooooooo sorry.” So, when Tiger began speaking in a flat, monotonous tone, I would think a lot of people found it insincere. If an apology has consistent changes in inflection and volume, it’s much more likely to be believed.

The only times Tiger’s inflection changed is when he was telling the press to leave his family alone, and denying the allegations of domestic abuse by Elin. And even then, he got louder, but not passionate. He was probably told not to express any anger in the presser because then the press would have more incentive to bury him. But, truth be told, most of the damage is done. So, passionately expressing his anger wouldn’t have been a big deal. If anything, it would prove he is human and had feelings.

He should have expressed a little more sincere anger during the presser. Again, he got loud, but not passionate. Had he expressed genuine anger, it would have added conviction to what he was saying. Then, perhaps, people would have believed him a little more.

He should have practiced his facial expressions more.

Some would characterize Tiger’s facial expressions as sorrowful, but not me. I think they were a little bit distant… detached. (This might sound a little low and conniving… and it is, but) Tiger should have been intensely rubbing his eyes before the presser to make them red. Red eyes makes people think he’s been crying. Crying before the presser would have made him seem more sincere… like he’s truly sorry. Crying at the presser probably would have felt insincere if Tiger is a bad actor.

Anyway, Tiger came out with a somewhat blank stare, which made the audience more aware that he was reading a pre-rehearsed speech. Had he talked with his hands more (He wouldn’t have had to hold cards if he was using the prompters) and used a few more facial expressions, he could have displayed the conviction of his words, thus fostering believability.

His facial expressions from this presser could just as easily have been used in a presser announcing some new Nike golf balls.

I’m not trying to be hard on Tiger because I don’t believe him. I really don’t care. If he’s sorry, that’s great. If not, that’s fine too. Who am I to judge?

At the end of the day, these are just my own personal thoughts of his presser. They could be completely wrong or dead on. But either way, they’re just my opinions.

Before I end this, I’ll just include some things I think Tiger should have said in his presser:

I’m here today to unveil my new iPhone app called Woods B Gone. It automatically erases all of the female names from your contact list. Man, I wish I had that. Just kidding, but seriously, I apologize.

It wasn’t me. It was my evil twin, Lion Woods.

The only performance-enhancing drug I used was Viagra.

As Elin pointed out to me, my real apology to her will not come in the form of words… it will come in the form of a big @ss Diamond ring. Thanks for the idea, Kobe.

See the presser:

On the penultimate jump, however, she attempted a method grab, which is an aerial trick where the snowboarder torques the board and then grabs it in mid-air. There was absolutely no need for her to do this; she was just showing off. Well, needless to say, she landed on the edge of her board and fell.

She was able to recover but not before Frieden zoomed by her and took the gold. She recovered to win the silver, but that was of little consolation.

In this year’s Olympics, she was the gold-medal favorite in the same event. Redemption was the name of the game. She took the lead right out of the gate in the semi-final round. But, she caught too much of air on the third big jump, and landed too close to Canadian Maelle Ricker, her biggest competition for the gold. She stumbled heading into the sharp left-hander, losing her balance and crashing through the inside gate, resulting in an immediate disqualification.

Jeff Passan of Yahoo Sports wants to add Jacobellis to the dictionary. The definition of Jacobellis is:

1. To cost oneself athletic glory and sentence oneself to a lifetime of smarmy people using surname as a verb, esp. through youthfully hubristic hot-dogging. 2. To spin out and end an Olympic Games in disappointment.

I decided, out of sheer boredom, which admittingly is the reason I do a lot of the things I do for this blog, to take a look at some examples of Jacobellising.

Some would classify Jacobellising as an epic sports fail. I think that’s a little too broad. In order for me to classify something as Jacobellising, I think it needs to meet certain criteria. First, the athlete must showboat.

In a Thanksgiving  Day game in 1993, Dallas led Miami with 15 seconds remaining. Miami attempted a 41-yard field goal, but missed. Leon Lett attempted to cover the ball, but due to snow and sleet, was unable to. Had he let the ball sit, the Cowboys would have received the ball back automatically. But, by touching it, the ball became live, allowing Miami to recover it.They then kicked another field goal to win the game. This, however, doesn’t count as Jacobellising because Lett was not showboating. 

Leon Lett’s showboating in Superbowl XXVII did cost him a touchdown, but did not cost the Cowboys the victory, so that play is disqualified as well.

Kenny Perry’s collaspe at the 2009 Master’s Tournament, giving up a two-shot lead over the final two holes, does not count as Jacobellising because he lost as the result of mistakes, not showboating. Nor does Bill Buckner’s infamous 1986 World Series error because it was a mistake, not showboating.

Second, the showboating must cost the athlete the win. For this reason, Dre Bly’s interception, then fumble doesn’t make this list because his team was down 25 points at the time, and the play did not affect the outcome of the game. DeSean Jackson’s fumble before crossing the goal line against Dallas is also disqualified because of this.

In 2003, Bjorn Wirdheim, a Swedish Formula 3000 Series driver, was on his way to an easy win at Monaco, with an insurmountable lead going into the final corner. But, before taking the checkered flag, he slowed to wave to his pit crew, allowing Nicolas Kiesa, who was running at full speed, to pass him and take the win.

Jean Van de Velde, a French golfer, was on his way to winning The Open Championship in 1999. All he needed was a double-bogey six on the 18th hole to become the first Frenchman to win it since 1907.

He had a three-shot lead, but still chose to use his driver off the tee. He drove the ball to the right of the burn. He then went for the green on his second shot, instead of his third, which would have been safer/smarter. The shot hit the grandstands and rolled into the rough.

On the downswingof his third shot, he tangled his club in the rough, and the shot sailed into the burn. He took a drop and proceeded to hit the ball into the greenside bunker. His sixth shot, which was from the bunker, landed six feet from the hole. He made the putt on his seventh shot for a triple-bogey seven, dropping him into a three-way tie with Justin Leonard and Paul Lawrie. He eventually lost in the playoff.

Bill Shoemaker was a jockey who rode in the 1957 Kentucky Derby. He was out front, riding Gallant Man on his way to victory when stood up in his stirrups to celebrate the victory, having misjudged the finish line. Bill Hartack riding Iron Liege passed Shoemaker to win the race.

Here is an unidentified cyclist Jacobellising. I’m not sure which race this was, but it is rumored to be the Paris Roubaix. Some put the date at 2005, but the quality of the video and my research indicates that is not accurate.

Anyway, the leader is a few feet from the finish line and he decided to put his hands up in celebration. He ends up falling and either knocking off his chain or breaking it. When he jumps back on the bike, he pedals, but the bike goes nowhere. He is forced to watch another rider win while he runs his bike across the finish line.

Several motorcycle racers celebrate too early and end up costing themselves a win: Julian Simon and Shaun Emmet are two examples.

These are just a few of the examples of Jacobellising; I’m sure there are many more. But few have come on a stage as big as the Olympics. Still, if another athlete commits a more egregious showboating mistake than Jacobellis’s, that person’s surname should replace her’s in the dictionary.

What quality of milk makes it such a hot, pre-snowstorm purchase? Is there another use of which I am unaware? Does pouring milk over your tires, and/or shoes, make them adhere to snow better, thus allowing you to get around? Maybe milk can somehow be turned into a fuel, suitable for use in a generator?

I’ve never heard a single person utter the words, “It’s going to snow? I’d better go get some gas for my generator.” It’s always milk, bread, and eggs*. Sure, people go and buy gas… but they don’t seem to advertise it like the milk-buyers.

* Based on a completely unscientific poll of one person (myself), I found that the items most people purchase before a snowstorm are milk, bread, and eggs in that order. Apparently, when we hear it’s going to snow, we all get a hankerin’ for some French toast, or some sort of bizarre milk and egg sandwich.
 
The milk-buyers seem to want to perpetuate the panic – making others buy milk – which is ironic when you think about it, because they’re the same people who complain that they couldn’t get milk because it was sold out.

At work, I heard about the snowstorm at least a dozen times. And, everytime someone brought it up, another person said, “Yeah, I need to get to the store to get some milk.” It was like a programmed response. Perhaps it’s a subliminal message embedded in those “Got Milk?” ads.

Why, though? Why is everyone in such a rush to get milk at first report of a major snowstorm? I racked my brain for a while, and came up with a few possible answers, but nothing that could concretely explain the need to rush to the store for milk. So, I asked others to see if maybe I was the only one struggling to figure out why people needed milk.

The most common response I received was, “Why do you care?” Well, because I’ve got nothing better to do, so why not. Once we got past that part, I got many different possible answers.
 
A lot of people said that they wanted hot cocoa or coffee. Okay, but do we really need to rush to the store for milk for coffee and/or hot cocoa? I mean, are we going to freeze to death without cocoa or coffee?

Some people also said that you can make a lot of different things with milk, bread, and eggs. And while this is true, you can also make a lot of things without them. Well, unless your plan is to bake a cake. Then, you you’re probably going to want some milk and eggs. I wonder if snowstorms affect cake-mix sales.

One person mentioned needing milk for an infant, which makes some sense. But, a lot of infants drink breast milk. Those that don’t, probably use formula. In a jam, formula can be made with water, though. A few days without milk won’t hurt your kid. But, there’s a certain peace of mind that comes with having milk for your kid. And that brings me to the most logical answer.
 
It is psychological. When people hear that they’re going to be stuck at home for a while, they panic. They anticipate that they’ll run out of milk. And, due to the run on milk that a snowstorm brings, and the likelihood that stores won’t receive milk deliveries due to the snow, they fear that they won’t be able to get any for several days.

It’s not a rational way of thinking. But, herd mentality is rarely rational. Chances are, most of us will not run out of milk or food, even if we’re trapped inside for an extended period of time. Sure, you may have to eat that can of Spaghetti Os you’ve had for a year and a half. But, you won’t run out of food. So, you probably don’t have rush to the store ahead of the storm. But, you do it because it gives you peace of mind.

A senior vice president with the National Milk Producers Federation speculated:

Just like with bread and toilet paper – two other items that seem to sell quickly before a storm – milk is viewed by many as a daily staple, and so people don’t want to be in a position of running out of it if they’re snowed under.  There’s probably some herd mentality behind it, but milk is one of the few products that virtually all households consume on a daily basis.

The VP was right. I don’t think I’ve ever been in a house that didn’t consume milk. If you ask someone for milk, and they don’t have it, they say, “We’re out of milk.” They never say, “We don’t consume milk in this house. We don’t believe in it.” And if they did, you’d think they were crazy. Whoever advertises milk has done a good job of convincing everyone that they must use it.

Anyway, I checked the store. At 10 p.m. the night before the storm, the grocery store was filled with frantic people trying to snatch up just about every bit of food they could in anticipation of the snowplocalypse.

Giant had a few security guards on duty to maintain order, I assume.

The store was out of most produce. They had no apples, oranges, or bananas. They were out of every type of lettuce, except a couple of bags of nasty looking Dole lettuce. They were even out of tomatoes. They were also out of all sizes of skim milk. Strangely enough, they had plenty of Vitamin D milk. I guess those who panic are watching their weight or lactose intolerant.

There were still eggs left, but there was a decent-sized crowd around them. White bread was completely gone, but you could get plenty of wheat. Toilet paper was almost sold out. The good brands — Scotts, Charmin — were all gone. But, you could get plenty of the store brand.

So, there you have it. Snow-induced milk purchases are a product of herd mentality — they’re psychological. Having milk — even if you dont drink it — is a security blanket that will keep you safe during a snowstorm. At least, that’s what we think.

A few months ago, the bathroom exhaust fan began making an awful shrieking sound. It was as if the fan was saying, “I’m dying and I don’t plan to go quietly.” So, we stopped using it. Then, one day, I turned it on and it let out its final death yelp. Then, it was silent.
 
For a brief period, I considered hiring someone to replace the fan. It’s easier for me to pay someone to replace the fan than it would be to replace it myself. But then I started to think that the only reason I would hire someone is because I would be too lazy to replace it myself. So, I started researching how to replace a bathroom fan.

It seemed easy enough. Most of the instructions consisted of a few steps: take out the old fan’s motor, take out the housing, disconnect the vent duct and wiring, connect wiring and vent duct to the new housing, install the new housing, insert the new motor, and you’re done.

“I can do that,” I thought. After all, I replaced a couple of light fixtures, some outlets, and have done countless other D-I-Y projects around the house. “Piece of cake,” I thought.

After doing some research as to what type of fan I needed, I purchased a Broan 70 CFM fan. That would allow for adequate ventilation of the bathroom. And, it would match the fan in the downstairs bathroom, making the styles consistent.

I took the fan home and began working right away. I figured one afternoon would be enough to get this job done. I removed the cover and the motor of the old fan, and then began removing the housing. This is where I hit snag number one.
 
The old fan, probably installed in 1976 when the house was built, was nailed, not screwed in, and the nails were hidden beneath sheet metal. In retrospect, tin snips probably could have made removing the housing much easier. But, I didn’t have them or think about them until after it was removed. Instead, I used a hammer, screwdriver, pry bar, and elbow grease to get the fan out.

The difficult part was bending the metal without damaging the drywall or the wooden support beam holding the fan in place. Notice I say beam. There was a single beam holding it in place. Had there been two, this job would have been much simpler. Anyway, I managed to get it out without doing any major damage. I pulled out the housing and disconnected the wiring and vent duct. I figured I was half-done and I was about 25 minutes into this project. Go Mike!

I, then, prepared the new fan for installation. I removed the motor from the housing and began connecting the wiring. Then, I hit snag number two with the vent duct. On the old unit, the duct connected to the right side of the unit. On the new fan, it connected to the left. After searching on the internet, I could not, for the life of me, find a fan that was small enough with the duct connector on the right side. So, I would need some sort of s-shaped tubing to connect the duct to the fan.

A trip to Home Depot produced a flexible duct, and I was back in business. I connected the vent duct using the flex duct and taped the duct in place. Despite those two snags, I considered things to be going pretty smoothly. The fan was wired and the duct was connected, all I needed to do was secure the housing to the support beam in the attic, and then I could install the motor and grille cover and call it a day.
 
When I slid the housing into place to anchor it, that’s when I hit perhaps the biggest snag of the project: the new fan was considerably smaller than the old one. The old one was also rectangle while the new one was square. Blimey!

Rather than try my hand at drywall work, I began feverishly looking for a fan with the same dimensions as the old one.* No dice. Lowe’s, Home Depot, even Broan’s website itself, none of them had a fan with the dimensions I needed. I could have purchased a bigger fan and cut a new hole in the drywall, but after visually inspecting the location, I wasn’t sure that a larger fan would fit because it didn’t look like there was much clearance.

* Yes, I know that I should have considered this before beginning work. But, I didn’t. Deal with it. I had to.
 
This meant I would need to get a new piece of drywall, cut it to the shape of the opening, use a wood cleat to anchor that into place, then use joint compound to seal it. Then I would need to sand it and paint it. It’s not entirely difficult to do, it’s just a lot of work to do just to install a friggin’ bathroom fan.
 
I made a list of everything I would need and headed to Lowe’s on my lunch break the next day. I’ve got to tell you, nothing makes you feel more manly than going to Lowe’s with a list and a plan. I felt empowered as I found each item. One time I said to myself quietly, “Countersink drill bit. Hell yeah, biotch.” Judging by the look on the sales associate’s face that was near me, I must have said it louder than I thought. I quickly moved on, embarrassed.

Once I got everything I needed, I had to wait four days before I could attempt to finish the project (due to a combination of work schedule and laziness). Every time I went to the bathroom or showered I was reminded of my inability to complete the project as easily as the guy in the Lowe’s video made it seem. But, I was determined to finish it. I was determined to prove I had skills beyond those of playing Xbox 360.

When I was able to get back to the project, I only had a few steps left. I had to secure the fan housing to the support beam, install the motor and connect the wiring. Then, I would be done.
 
The original plan was to use screws to secure the housing so I could remove it easily in the future if needed. I anchored the fan in place with screws. Securing it wasn’t as easy as it should have been because there wasn’t enough clearance to get a screwdriver into the screw because the hole was so small. (That’s what she said!) 
 
Once it was secured, I got the motor and tried to put it in. But, the hole was not wide enough. I had to cut some of the drywall to get it in. While cutting, I was annoyed, and not paying attention so I accidentally nicked the vent duct, which made me feel pretty stupid. It’s silver, not exactly hard to see. I just wasn’t paying enough attention. Anyway, it wasn’t a big deal; nothing a little duct tape couldn’t fix.

I slid the motor in place, and I heard a click. I connected the wiring, and turned the electricity back on, it was time to check the fan. I flipped the switch and everything worked as it should. No smoke, no fire, no burning smell, no death yelp. Just 70 CFM of exhausting goodness. Success!

Now it was time to plug the 2” by 8” gap in the drywall. I cut a piece of drywall from the piece I picked up from Lowe’s. I used a wood shim to anchor the new piece of drywall to the existing drywall with drywall screws. That part was surprisingly easy. Then, I used caulk to fill in the seams.
 
Despite advertising a 15 minute dry-time online, the easy caulk from a tube (no gun required) took 2 hours to dry and I had to wait 24 hours before exposing it to moisture. 15 minutes my rear end. Once the caulk dried, I applied some joint compound to cover the new wallboard.

I sanded the joint compound until it was smooth. But, the corner of new wallboard was jutting out just a little bit. With the right amount of joint compund, you wouldn’t be able to see it, which meant I had to apply more.

I added joint compound and sanded it again. This time it looked significantly better. So, it was time to paint.

By my estimation, and eyeball, I figured the tan-ish paint we used in the bedrooms matched the tan-ish paint in the bathroom. So, I got the leftover paint and stirred it up. Even after the paint was in the tray, I held it up next to the paint already on the wall and they looked the same.

So, I started painting, and guess what. The new paint was about a shade or two lighter than the old paint. You know how they say to test out the paint on an inconspicuous area. Well, I should have. But, I like to cut corners — ironically enough to save time.

Well, this resulted in having to repaint the entire ceiling. By moving the edge between the new paint and the old paint into the corners, it creates the illusion that they are the same color. When it dried, you could hardly tell that the wall and ceiling weren’t the same color.

As I was about to install the cover onto the fan (the final step), I noticed that only one corner of the fan motor clicked into place. The other did not. It was close to the point where it would click, but it wasn’t quite there. So, I pushed and pushed until I heard “pop.” In all of my pushing, the casing popped away from the screws, leaving the fan unsecured. And, the motor was only halfway in. The fan worked, but it was not secure, nor was the motor completely secure.

I tried getting the motor to click in place, but with the fan unsecured, the casing would lift up, instead of holding in place so the motor could click. I had an idea… Nadia could go into the attic (I couldn’t fit in the space above the fan) and could apply the pressure needed to hold the fan in place while I pushed the motor into position from below. So, I told her of the plan. And we put it off, and put it off. Months had passed. We were growing used to the hole in the ceiling.

Then, one day Nadia said we should do it that day. So, we did. And we ran into one small problem: Nadia couldn’t fit in the space either. So, I had to devise another plan.

Another week passes. At this point, it had been nearly four months since the start of this project. I couldn’t figure out how to install the motor without completely removing the casing. Then, I figured I could lift the fan up, get a good grip on it, and then push the motor in place with one hand while holding the casing in the other. This, too, did not work.

But, as I moved the casing around, I felt the roof behind the casing. So, I rested it against the roof, and pushed. Both sides clicked in. Finally, something went right! Then, I secured the casing using nails on an angle. I figured they would hold it in place enough, and putting them on an angle would give me clearance enough to swing the hammer. It worked. The fan was secure and the motor was completely in place.

Now, all I had to do was install the cover. It uses two thin metal clips to hold it in place. The clips aren’t very long, meaning you either need small hands, or pliers to get them in place. I chose pliers.

As I was working the cover in place, one of the clips locked unexpectedly. I didn’t notice, so when I went to pull the fan into position, one of the plastic lips that held onto the clip broke. This rendered the cover useless… unless…

I decided that I would drill screw holes into the cover, and use screws to hold it in place. Surprisingly enough, this worked. The cover was in place, and the fan was working. Finally! All it took was four and a half months and like 16 workarounds.

I compeleted the project, snags and all, because I’m smart, resourceful, and generally good with my hands. Sure, you could argue that some of the snags were stupidity and laziness on my part, but I still over came them. I’ve got skills!

A couple of days before the trip, I looked up the specific locations I wanted to visit. At that point, I didn’t have the address of the courthouse, so I didn’t map them out by the distance we were from them. I just wrote down the cross streets, and we went from there.

First, we decided to go to Soup Kitchen International, which was run by Al Yeganeh, a New York City soup vendor who inspired the Soup Nazi character, because it was closest to us. It is located in Manhattan on 55th St near 8th Ave. So, we hopped on the subway and took it to 59th St. Then, we hoofed it down to 55th.
 
The store was closed in 2006, and has remained closed since. But, the awning identifying it remains. Also, the rules for ordering are still displayed in the window in both English and French. We snapped a couple of pictures and then decided on our next destination.

We decided we would head over to the building that was used for Pendant Publishing, Elaine Benes’ employer. The address of the exterior is 600 Madison Ave. between 57th and 58th Sts. We could have just gone straight there from the Soup Nazi’s place – it was about seven blocks – but we decided to go to the Apple store and FAO Schwarz instead.

I had been by the Apple store before, but never went inside. Other than the glass cube and spiral staircase, it’s just like any other Apple store. There were quite a few people there for 11 a.m. on a Wednesday, though. It was packed.
 
From there, we went next door to FAO Schwarz. The store is much bigger than it appears from outside. And, it still has the doorman. Inside, you’re greeted by massive pink plush puppies, and a display of stuffed safari animals. There was even a $2,400 replica of Noah’s Ark that came with several plush animals.
 
The big piano is no longer on the second level near the escalator. Now, it’s in the party room. I don’t know what — other than the piano – qualifies it as a party room, but that’s what they call it. You can get your picture taken on the piano by them or do-it-yourself. The piano costs $20,000, by the way.
 
We decided not to wait in line to get on the piano. We walked around the store and looked at the rest of the toys. I really, really wanted to get myself made as a Muppet Whatnot. But, for $130, I passed. I have no idea why I wanted myself as a Muppet, but when I first saw it, I thought, “Mike as a Muppet…that sounds about right!”

Nadia looked around for a present for a friend with a baby, but couldn’t settle on anything. So, then we headed to the exterior used for Pendant Publishing. I took a couple of pictures there, but it wasn’t as rewarding as the Soup Nazi’s place. It actually had a bit of a boring feel so we moved on.

It was about lunchtime, so we decided to go to a pizza place Nadia knows from when she lived in the city. I call it “this place Nadia knows” because, despite the many, many times she ate there; she never learned or remembered the name! Anyway, last time we were in NYC, we walked 70… 7-0… blocks to get to this place, all while I was dealing with sciatica. She kept saying, “It’s only a few blocks away.” It was good pizza, though, and we were only about 30 blocks away this time. So, we started walking.
 
Now, keep in mind we’re both wearing professional attire, and I’m wearing casual shoes — shoes that apparently weren’t designed for walking. About 15 or so blocks in, my feet started hurting. It wasn’t so bad that I couldn’t walk, but it wasn’t like walking around in sneakers, or Himalayan walking shoes. And, I had to pee. But, by then we were only 10 or so blocks away so I figured I would hold it.
 
Now, she remembers it being around 82nd and 2nd Ave. But she wasn’t 100% sure. So, when we arrive at 82nd, she says it may be as high as 87th. Sigh. So we walk towards 87th. At 86th, there’s a section of storefronts that are boarded up with plywood that reads, “Post No Bills.” When we get up to 87th, there’s no pizza place. It appears that the pizza place was at 86th, but it was closed.* Blimey! I was so annoyed! Nadia wanted to find another place to eat, but after 30 blocks thinking about pizza, I wanted pizza.

* It turns out the pizza place – based on my research – is called Piazza Restaurant and it relocated to 3rd Ave between 86th and 87th. Google Street View shows it closed with a sign. We should have checked it earlier. We were so close. D’ah well.
 
We hailed a cab and asked the driver to take us to a good pizza place. He took us to Zesty Pizza on 95th St. The pizza was good, but listening to the owner of the pizza place explain, in his thick New York accent, how his “sun gawt bit by a freakin’ dawg while playin sockah,” was priceless. He was explaining to a customer – who I assume has a kid that goes to the same school as his and frequents his establishment – that he was going to “soo huh” (sue her) because “she freakin’ laughed when huh dawg bit him.” I should note that the dog that bit him belonged to the school’s chancellor and it was the chancellor’s wife who laughed at the incident.

Anyway, after lunch, we continued on to Tom’s Restaurant. We walked through Harlem. It didn’t feel unsafe, but apparently people up there do not curb their dogs there. There was poop all over the sidewalk.
 
We walked down 112th, looking for the intersection of Broadway. As we approached what appeared to be the end, we did not find Broadway. The road ended at Manhattan Ave. and across the street was a very large park and cathedral. We had walked about 18 blocks at this point, on top of the 30 before, so I was thinking we should give up. But Nadia said it might be on the other side of the park and the cathedral school, so we pressed on.
 
Two long blocks (uphill) later, I was ready to give up when Nadia asked a crossing guard. “Broadway is the next block,” the woman said. Excellent. So, we walked up to the corner and, nothing. Where was it? How could it not be here?!?!?!?!

Then, we realized that in going around the park, we were on 110th, not 112th. We walked up Broadway two blocks and there it was. We took a couple of photos and soaked it in, which basically means we stood there trying to decide on what to do next.
 
Nadia wanted to go to Canal St to look for a hat and possibly gloves. I also wanted to buy a scarf. So, we took the subway to Canal.

If you’ve never been, Canal St has a lot of little shady-looking open storefronts that sell hats, gloves, scarves, clothes and handbags. They also have a lot of street vendors. The handbags, however, are fake.*

* I can’t prove that they’re all fake but the last time we visited Canal St we went into a shop that had all of their bags sitting on a shelf with small holes where the brand name/logos go. There was also a stack of the purse emblems next to them, ready to be glued on.

As Nadia was walking by, several of the vendors would say, “Do you want Gucci bag, Louis Vuitton, Prada.” I must have heard some variation of this 50 times in a two blocks. Also, there was a group of young (16 – 18 year old) white girls with an older black guy with them. He was one of the street vendors.
 
Apparently, they must have answered, “Yes” when he asked if they wanted a Louis Vuitton bag. So, he was asking them to follow him across the street. Two of the girls were gung ho, while one of them was saying that they should not go. She was “freaked out” by him and did not want to go. Before they decided what to do, though, we were out of earshot. When I last saw them, they didn’t appear to be crossing the street with him.

Anyway, once we walked through Canal St, we wanted to take the subway back to Penn Station so we could go home. But, Nadia said that none of the trains there would take us back to Penn. So, we ended up leaving that station to find an A,C,E or 1,2,3 train. Going into the station and then coming out of the station got me disoriented. So, I couldn’t help.

We looked at a map and determined the best route to take. The problem, however, was two-fold: the map didn’t contain all of the streets because it was a subway map, and we got confused because both Broadway and W Broadway intersect with Canal St. So, we picked a direction to walk, and stuck with it… until we ended up in Chinatown.
 
We stopped and asked a traffic cop where the nearest A,C,E or 1,2,3 train station was and he mumbled something about being all the way on the other side of something. Nadia could probably hear him better than I could. I asked him about the Grand St station, as it was supposed to be nearby according to the map, and it would take us to 34th, where we could walk the few blocks to Penn Station. He told us it was “right there.” We didn’t really know where “there” was but we walked in the direction he pointed.

After a few blocks, we didn’t see the station. Nadia suggested a cab. At that point, I saw the station, but we decided to take the cab anyway. The driver got us where we were going. He might have taken us a longer way to drive up the fare, but it was $11, so I wasn’t too upset. Plus, it kept us from having to smell poop, and we were sitting, not walking. So to me, it was money well spent. To Nadia… not so much. But, she didn’t complain.

We took the train from NY Penn to Newark Penn. Then we needed to transfer to the Newark Penn to Fanwood train. After some slight confusion, and a call to my dad, we verified the NJ Transit train we needed to be on, and headed to it. It was departing in less than two minutes, so we hustled on board. In our haste, we both knew we got on the last car of the train, but we didn’t really know, know, if you know what I mean.

This was an important tidbit of information to have, as the conductor announced that at Fanwood only doors with stairs would open. NJ Transit has double-decker cars, so every double-decker has stairs that go to the two levels. I assumed that these were the stairs the conductor was referring to. They weren’t.
 
Apparently Fanwood doesn’t have a raised platform. So, you can only take certain doorways – those with stairs – to get to the ground. So, when the train pulled into Fanwood we’re standing by the doors that didn’t open. But, since were in the last car, we couldn’t actually see the station. It seemed like we were waiting to get into the station. (Think of how Metro trains pull into the station but stop before getting to the point of being able to open the doors because there’s another train in front of them.)
 
So we waited, and then the train started moving again and the conductor announced the next station was Netherwood. We missed our stop!  I called my dad and told him to meet us at Netherwood, which wasn’t that far away.
 
When we got there, we stopped before pulling into the station. Nadia didn’t want to wait at the same door in case it didn’t open. So, I opened the door between the cars. It was the conductor’s car from the end of the train. When I saw this, I was like, “Oh what the hell!” Nadia, however, thought we should quickly move to another door. So we practically ran to the other end of the car where the door – with stairs – was open.
 
After packing up and having dinner with my parents, we drove back to Virginia. We both had to be at work Thursday morning. The first hour was smooth. No traffic, just open road. Then, my eyes started fade in and out of focus. This is how I know that I’m not too tired to drive, but I have about another 30 minutes or so before I am. So, I stopped and got a Cherry Coke Zero.
 
That woke me up, and allowed me to finish the drive. The NJ Turnpike was smooth sailing, as was 95 through Delaware. In Maryland, there were quite a few cars on the road, but it was moving.
 
When we passed Chesapeake House, a car was entering the roadway from the left ramp. I was in the second lane doing around 82 mph. I slowed down to get over when I noticed it was a State Trooper. I slowed down to about 65, just by coasting. He hung back from me about 20 car lengths or so. So, I started to relax. Then, he just gunned it and came up behind me. I almost had to change my undies it scared me so much. Then, he flew around me.
 
So, naturally, I sped back up to around 75. He was a good 20 lengths in front of me to my left. Then, he slams on his brakes, so I slam on mine – didn’t want to pass him doing 75. Just as I catch up to him, (I’m down to about 70) he turns into a space in the divider and turns his lights off. He was getting in position to get speeders on the other side of the road. Whew.

For the rest of the ride, things were pretty smooth. We take 95 through Maryland, to 495. We take 495 all the way into Virginia without incident. I decide that I’m not taking the toll road, because they raised each toll 25 cents recently. So, we go up to the next exit so we can get on Rt. 7, which takes a little longer, but is free.
 
A little ways before the exit, I notice the overhead sign says 495 Closed in 5 Miles. Follow Detour. Fortunately for us, we’re only going 1.5 miles, I thought. As we approach the exit, traffic is stopped in all lanes. But, the exit ramp from the toll road onto 495 (which turns into the exit ramp for our exit) looks to be moving.
 
So, I jump into that lane only to have to slam on my brakes a few feet up. The cops have the highway closed a mere 150 yards from our exit. I tune into 103.5 to find out that parts of the beltway will be temporarily closed for up to a half hour.
 
I was so angry. We were so close, and yet so far. I woke Nadia up with my swearing. She tried to calm me down to no avail. After about 15 minutes, the cops re-opened 495 and we were on our way. The 15 minutes went by pretty quickly mostly because I was cursing the police and construction company the whole time. At the time, it wasn’t funny but now it is.

Anyway, we got back around 1 a.m. It was a long trip, but it was a lot of fun and we had a good time. And, it was good that Nadia finally became a barred attorney.

We got on the road around 3:45 p.m. Tuesday. I was concerned with leaving so late in the day, as we would hit rush hour traffic on the beltway and around Baltimore. But, surprisingly enough traffic was not bad. We hit parts where we were a little slow, but we were never stopped, and there wasn’t a lot of volume once we got beyond the beltway.
 
We planned on stopping for dinner, but could not find a place that we really were craving. We decided on Arby’s, but due to a slight miscommunication, we missed the exit. At that point, we were in Delaware and decided we would stop in New Jersey.

We left the NJ Turnpike in Bellmawr, NJ (not to be confused with Belmar, NJ) and went to a place called Club Diner. NJ Diners are awesome (much better than Silver Diner) so, I was glad we waited to eat. But, from far away, the place looked like it could be a nightclub. For a second I thought, “Is someone playing a cruel joke?” I thought we might drive up and find out that it was a club, and have to find another place to eat. Fortunately, it was not a club.

We sat at the first table behind the hostess stand. Normally this wouldn’t be worth mentioning, but the hostess and a couple of the waitresses were apparently friends, and very immature (college aged?). At one point, one of the girls said, “If I ever get pregnant, I’m going to have one of my friends push me down the Art Institute’s (of Philadelphia) stairs. That’s A LOT of stairs.” That is a horrible thing to say out loud, even if she was joking – it was hard to tell if she was. I later mentioned to Nadia that perhaps she would be killed in the fall, which would be a good thing.

Anyway, one vegetable platter and a chicken cheesesteak later, we were back on our way. The NJ Turnpike ride was very easy — no traffic that late. So we got to my dad’s place around 9 p.m.
 
We caught up with the folks for a little bit, and then planned our trip to NY the next day. We had to figure out what trains would get us closest to where we needed to be. We also needed to find out what time the train left in the morning so we knew what time we needed to leave the house. We ended up taking the 6:21 a.m. train out of Fanwood, NJ to Newark Penn Station. Then, we took a train from Newark to NY Penn Station. Then we took the A train to Jay St. Borough Hall station. From there it was a couple-block walk.

The train ride was pretty easy. The NJ Transit train was cleaner and more comfortable than Metro. Taking it to Newark was easy, and relaxing. Once we got to Newark, though, it was like the beginning of the NY Marathon. People everywhere; all running to make the next train. We allowed ourselves plenty of time, so we didn’t need to run. But, we hightailed it from the Fan-Newark train to the Newark-NYC train because, well… when in Rome, I guess. People were sprinting. You don’t see that in Metro. People walk fast, but they don’t really sprint.

Anyway, we made our transfer point, and then had another nice ride into NY. Once we entered the NY subway, though, it was hard not to notice the dizzying aroma of poop. Ah, the subway, NY’s public toilet. After a few minutes, the assault on my nostrils went away. I no longer noticed the poop smell. That’s not to say the smell went away. I just got used to it – or as used to the smell as you can. (I didn’t actually notice that it still smelled like poop until we got into fresh air.)

The NY subway ride was long, but the stops were quick. And, it wasn’t that bad. We arrived at Jay St. around 8 a.m. and needed to figure out the location of the courthouse. Nadia took out the letter with the directions. I hate when people are reading directions or maps on the street because it screams, “I’m not sure where I am going, please clunk me over the head and take my money.” But, we figured out where to go and made our way to the court without incident.
 
Once we found it, we walked to a nearby Starbucks to kill some time/get some breakfast. We managed to get a table. A woman came and sat down next to us. I’m not sure if she was a NY-er, but I assumed she was. She must have trusted us – Nadia made small talk with her – because she got up a couple of times, leaving her wallet and iPhone on the table within my reach. At one point, her overstuffed wallet (with cash clearly visible) began to open because it was so stuffed. It was sitting on the edge of the table. Had the top opened completely, it would have fallen off the table because the top was heavier/thicker than the bottom.

I decided that if it started to fall, I would let it hit the ground. To me, that was better than trying to explain why I was holding her wallet as she turned around. It didn’t fall. Whew.

Around 8:45 a.m., we left Starbucks and headed back to the court where we found a line of people. They, too, were holding their NY bar letters. It was sort of like those karate-tournament movies, where fighters from around the world are sent letters (scrolls) requesting that they compete. All of these different lawyers, standing in line, holding their karate-tournament invitations.* Anyway, we got in line.

* In Asian-guy-dubbed-over-by-White-guy-voice: Your argument style is pretty useless! Your Skadden, Arps, Slate, Meagher & Flom corporate law style is no match for my Weil, Gotshal & Manges patent attorney style. Ha.

Once inside, we were taken into a waiting room. I was among future corporate and private lawyers. And, they looked pretty much exactly how you would expect. If you looked closely enough, you could tell which were likely to be corporate lawyers (blue, black, grey, pale yellow accessories) and which were likely to be pro bono attorneys (purple, red, bright green accessories). There was even one guy in a gray suit who might as well have had “Corporate D-Bag Attorney” tattooed across his forehead. But, anyway…

Nadia and the other lawyers were taken away and we (guests) were instructed to enter the courtroom. On four occasions – FOUR – we had been told “No Flash Photography” in the courtroom. It was even in the letter.

After we found our seats, a security guard instructed us again about the flash photog (twice), and to turn off – not silence – our cell phones. She said that they interfere with the mic. (There was a couple in front of me speaking a different language that I assume does not have a word for “silence” because, other than “no” it was the only word in English. From what I gathered, they argued over turning off the phone versus silencing it. She won, he turned it off.)

Another security guard came in and told us again – the eighth time for those counting – no flashes. So, as soon as the attorneys came in what happens? Pop… pop… pop… flashes going off like we were paparazzi and Lindsay Lohan just walked in holding a bong. Sigh. The guards walked around and told individuals to turn off their flashes as they took pics.

The clerk took attendance, calling out the names one by one. She instructed them to say, “Present” in a clear and loud voice. She got about 90% of the way through before one guy said, “Here.” She told us that there was one in every group, which drew a laugh. I should note that there were two guys named Mordecai being sworn in. What are the chances of that? I wonder if they sought each other out after the ceremony. They could start the law firm Mordecai Squared.

Newly barred attorney Nadia. Funny... she doesn't look any different.

The justices came in and we said the Pledge of Allegiance. Then, the lawyers took their oath. Then, the Chief Justice made a speech about how practicing law was a privilege not a right. He also quoted from the movie Saving Private Ryan, and he told the attorneys the despite the profession’s portrayal in movies and news, they should conduct themselves with ethics, etc. The speech also contained far more religious advice than I expected. He told the attorneys to worship, although he didn’t say specifically that they should be Christians. It was a much more entertaining and uplifting speech than I thought it would be.

After that, the guests were dismissed and Nadia and the others had to sign a scroll that attorneys before them signed. We went back to the waiting room and watched the rest of the proceedings on a TV. Nadia was the second (although she claims to have been the first) person called due to her last name.
 
The TV screen showed three different camera views. We could see the person walking up, then signing and then leaving. But, Nadia was far too short to be caught by cameras two and three, so I only saw her walk up. Then, she was done. It’s official, Nadia is a barred attorney in NY. Now all she needs to do is, after three more years of procrastination, is to waive into DC.

Part 2: NYC 2010: The Low-Budget Seinfeld Tour

I liked the way the story started – I always appreciate a good story-teller, and I think Dan Wetzel did a good job of setting the scene. It was engaging and entertaining, despite most readers already knowing the outcome. (He couldn’t complete the simple pass due to a lack of strength in his arm/throwing shoulder.) Then, after about three short paragraphs, I came to a line that sent me into a fit of rage – assuming fit of rage actually means annoyed me enough to blog about it.

Explaining why McCoy lied to doctors and trainers about being able to go back in, Wetzel wrote:

He wanted back out there.

This sentence makes me cringe every time I read it. This is one of my biggest written or verbal pet peeves.

It’s not that I think I’m some sort of grammatical god who never makes mistakes. But, c’mon, man. “He wanted TO GET back out there” or “He wanted TO BE back out there.” Not the way Wetzel wrote it.

I first encountered the dropping of “to be” while I was attending Penn State. A lot – not all but a lot – of western Pennsylvania locals drop their to be’s. “Your car needs washed.” Or, “Your tie needs straightened.” I’m sure there are people all over the country who do this, so I can’t restrict it to western PA-ers. But, that’s where I first heard it. My girlfriend does it from time to time, and she’s from Virginia, so that proves it isn’t only Pennsylvania people.

I can let it go in conversation. There are a lot of things I say conversationally that I wouldn’t write down. Well, except maybe in this blog… But, you get the point! In Wetzel’s case, however, I can’t let it go. This was written in a news story for a major (if Yahoo! counts as major) news outlet. This should never happen. Maybe this is why stodgy old print journalists seem to hate new media journalists.

I’m not saying Wetzel needs fired; I’m just saying he needs talked to… Grrrrrrrrr…. How do people write like that?

* If you didn’t notice the headline was missing to be, then perhaps you are a part of the problem. Please, become a part of the solution.

Shortly after the nominations were announced, a friend of mine, Charles Gooch, wrote in his blog that FG has been on the decline.

He wrote:

Family Guy stopped being funny sometime in the middle of the fifth season. Take it from me, I’m right in this show’s wheelhouse and can quote almost anything from the show at request, but I probably fast forwarded through half the episodes this year. It had funny bits, but the whole ‘randomly-generated-stream-of-consciousness’ joke thing may have run its course.

I can’t say I disagree. The show has been on a steady decline, and has been resorting to over-the-top-offensive jokes to stay on top. (And I’m hardly a guy who is easily offended.) FG has indeed jumped the shark. Matter of fact, FG jumped the shark so long ago, that the speedboat is back at the marina, and FG has removed its life jacket and swim trunks* and is sitting at a picnic table eating a cheeseburger.

* I love calling them swim trunks. It’s old school, and it sounds funnier than bathing suit.
 
For those of you who are not as familiar with TV colloquialisms as me and Gooch, jumping the shark is when a TV show’s plot crosses into the absurd and it moves towards characterizations that are not in line with the show’s original plot/feel — the point at which you know, it’s all downhill from here. It’s named after the moment when Fonzie jumped a shark in Happy Days (which went downhill after that).

FG gained such a cult – and then mass – following because of its willingness to joke about things that most other shows wouldn’t touch. When a show builds its foundation this way, it has to keep getting more and more offensive because the writers have to top themselves.

In every joke, you need to know when you’ve reached the funniest point. Once you’ve reached it, it’s best to end the joke. Imagine you’re telling a funny story to a group of friends. You’d like the funniest part of the story to be the climax — the last part you tell. Once you get the big laugh, you’re done. You don’t keep trying to add on to the joke. (Think George Costanza trying to leave on a high note.)

The problem with FG is that they’ve already got the big laugh, and they keep trying to add to the joke, but you’re not laughing anymore. Now, you’re uncomfortable because they’re still talking and it isn’t funny.

The show’s cutaway gags were funny early on. But, like any other novelty, they wore off. It goes from being funny and clever to being unfunny and pointless. The problem is, they can’t move away from that, as that is what set them apart from shows like The Simpsons, King of the Hill, and South Park.

By the way, have you noticed that The Simpsons is taking a page from the FG playbook? I’m not sure how long ago they started doing it, but they’re using more cutaway gags in their show, although they’re not using the typical “… than the time when I…” setup.

 
Maybe the overuse of such gags, coupled with their desire to be more offensive/shocking, means the show has run its course. I don’t know. Maybe what kept the show funny for the first five seasons is the fact that it was canceled twice, which led to the hiring of some new writers (most of the old ones got new jobs) who brought fresh new humor.
 
Now, the show has been on for four consecutive seasons. This is about the time you start to see writer fatigue, and shows tend to start going downhill. As Seth MacFarlane, creator of FG, put it (although not in the same context), “you see a lot more sex jokes and (bodily function) jokes and signs of a fatigued staff that their brains are just fried.” This is probably the case.

Think about it. Season 4 of Fresh Prince of Bel-Air: Nicky is born and they get a new actress to play Vivian. Season 4 of Saved by the Bell: Slater’s long lost sister and Tori are introduced, and this is the last season before The College Years. (The horror… the horror…) Season 4 of Friends, Phoebe becomes the surrogate mother of her brother’s triplets, and Emily is introduced. Season 4 of The Cosby Show: Sandra and Elvin give up law and medicine, respectively, to open a wilderness store. Theo catches a dead body on a fishing trip. C’mon man. Need I go on?
 
I think the fourth/fifth season of a sitcom is usually when it starts to get stagnant. There are exceptions – Seinfeld – but for the most part, without rotating or completely changing the writing teams, you’re going to start noticing the same jokes over and over again. I think that’s what happened to FG. I’m not saying the show should be canceled yet. But, someone should certainly start thinking about it. And remember, I like(d) the show.

This is one of the few funny moments, to me, from after season 5:

Did I accomplish everything I set out to? Was I in a better position in life this year versus last year? Was I genuinely happy with every aspect of my life? Did I experience enough progress, enough growth?

Overall, I felt (and feel) pretty comfortable with my life. 2009 was a good year for me. But, there were a lot of areas (more than I wanted, anyway) that needed improvement.  Don’t get me wrong; my life is not bad by any stretch of the imagination. But, there are a lot of areas where I felt like I could be doing more… like I could be doing better.

After reflecting on the decisions I’ve made in the last year, I came up with a new (simple) plan 2010: the Year of Discipline.

The concept is simple, and can be applied to any aspect of life. For me personally, there are a few aspects in my life that I would like to improve.

The first is the physical aspect (health and wellbeing).

I. Health and Wellbeing

For the first part of 2009, I stuck to a strict regimented diet consisting of more fruits and vegetables than I’ve ever consumed in my life. That combined with a somewhat routine workout schedule led to the loss of a little over 25 pounds. But, after taking on a second job at the movie theater, I stopped working out, and found myself eating more junk food than I had been. By the end of the year, I gained most of the weight back.

So, the Year of Discipline begins with going back to a strict diet to improve my eating habits. My problem isn’t necessarily with what I eat. I don’t really consume junk food or unhealthy things often. My problem is mostly volume. When I eat, I eat a lot. And, the first order of business is consuming less in individual meals, and eating more meals a day.

Adding that to a stricter workout schedule should get my on the path to being healthier, and fit. At the beginning of last year, I consistently worked out. Going to the gym and working out at home contributed to my weight loss last year. But, towards the end of the year, I stopped working out. Working at the movie theater took most of my extra time and energy. So, when I found time to work out, I didn’t because I was too tired. Sure, this was an excuse, but it did keep me from working out. But, no more excuses. Not in 2010.

 The second aspect that I would like to improve is financial.

II. Financial

Up until 2008, my financials were in decent shape. Then, I got divorced. Whoever said, “It’s cheaper to keep her…” was right. Now, I don’t regret it, and I think it was ultimately for the best. But, it was costly.

Based on the information I’ve seen, it can take three to five years to fully recover financially from a divorce. I’m about half way through year two, and am on track to recover in the next year. But, it will take financial discipline to accomplish that end. Actually, if I really apply myself, I could be recovered about a half-year early. But, it requires me to stop wasting money, and making smarter financial decisions. In a word… discipline. And that’s why it’s a part of the Year of Discipline.

The third aspect I’m planning on improving is social.

III. Social

I’m not, by nature, a social person. I manage to get by, but I don’t go out of my way to get into social situations. I am a social ninja, after all.

My social indifference, however, keeps me from really getting out and doing (experiencing) much. It’s not that I consciously avoid social situations; it’s that I don’t spend time thinking about them. So, I’m not likely to experience something new because I don’t think about it.

So, in 2010, I’m going to make more of an effort to experience new things and meet new people. For most people, that doesn’t take discipline. But, for me it will because I’ll have to actually commit myself to thinking about it, and taking action.

The last thing I would like to improve is my focus across the board: personally and professionally.

IV. Focus

Last year was a good year both personally and professionally. But, it wasn’t great. While I did learn new things in both areas, I feel like I could improve in both areas.

Personally, I accomplished a lot last year around the house. I fixed a lot of small issues, and completed many home improvement projects. I also improved my relationships with my daughter and my girlfriend.  I am taking on more active roles in both relationships. So, in 2010, it will be more of the same. Keep improving… keep growing.

Professionally, I accomplished a lot in my first year in this job. But, I feel like I need to grow more professionally in this role, otherwise I could get stuck very easily. That means learning more of the technical applications required for the job, and possibly pursuing a Master’s degree. I’m still deciding which route to take but 2010 has to consist of action and growth. And in order to cause action and growth, I’ll need discipline (focus) to develop a plan and carry it out.

That’s my plan for this year. It isn’t going to be easy. (Just four days in, it hasn’t been easy, and things only figure to get harder as the year goes on.)

I’ll be blogging throughout the year, updating you on how the Year of Discipline is going and my struggles and lapses (although, hopefully, there won’t be any.) Check it out from time to time, and feel free to share your stories of how you’re improving areas of discipline in your life.

Another person in Memphis, TN, seems to have had the same idea as me. And, while I didn’t get the idea from this person, I do respect what they’re doing and hope they remain committed.