Blogging, Take 2

I’ve procrastinated for quite some time now. It’s been a year and almost a month since I last blogged. My life has gone through tremendous changes during that time, most of which I’ll touch on in a paragraph or so, but one thing that has remained the same, at least to my knowledge, is that I’m blogging for an audience of one. I’m perfectly fine with that, if you must know. I still have an ego, I still like to have other people regularly read my work, and I intend for that to happen again but I understand this is a process. It takes a while, or at least a reputation, to build up a following. I do not tell friends (until now), coworkers or prospective employers that I blog on the side. Not even my mother knows I have a blog, nor will she know, at least until I become more consistent with it. Even then…

Before I sat down this evening to write, after a hearty day of football watching from my perfectly worn-in brown leather recliner, I tried to come up with a few good reasons as to why I’ve avoided blogging. The only one reason is that I’ve been afraid of my own voice. Still. Coming from someone who has only been paid to write for a living, that might be a weird thing to say. Let me explain: for as long as I’ve been a journalist, I’ve adhered to every rule I was taught in journalism school: the inverted pyramid, remaining objective in my writing, and writing “light, tight and bright” as an old editor used to tell me. I like to think I’m very good at piecing together a feature story, a game story or anything else you might find in a newspaper, website or magazine. But I’ve never opined. I’ve never written about what I think, how I feel. And this is very important not only for a writer’s progression but also that of a human being. I have no aspirations of becoming a columnist. I just want to be a well-rounded writer and my mission statement from here on out will be to challenge myself in this space – to put my thoughts on a particular subject right here in this space, to continue to develop my voice as a writer and a person.

I feel like other writer’s works have built me up and readied me for this moment. I’ve long been a fan of Esquire’s Chris Jones, who I’ve gotten to know over the years, and more recently Roger Angell of the New Yorker. In fact, I’d say that reading Angell’s commentary on the World Series has been a big inspiration in getting me to blog again. There’s something in the way he writes about a particular subject that gets me excited. There’s a simplicity in his writing, but he tells stories from a point of view that’s been worked and developed over the decades. (He began writing for the New Yorker in the 40s.) I want to write as well and as concise as Angell.

Like I said earlier, I’ve been through a lot since I last blogged. I became engaged to an amazing, beautiful woman who has helped me grow as a person and who I plan to spend the rest of my life with. I’ve told her this before, but when I think of my love for her, I sometimes get upset that we only have one life to live. I want to be with her forever. The engagement happened a few days before Christmas (Dec. 22 or 23…I know, I should know this) and it was the most alive I’ve ever felt in my life. Asking someone to marry you, to commit to you, was a powerful moment and one I’ll never forget. I can only imagine what type of experience it will be like to exchange vows.

We plan to wed on April 27, 2012, a day after her 31st birthday, here in Chicago at Newberry Library. That’s correct, I’m no longer living in Oklahoma City. Christina and I left the Great Plains, the belt buckle of the Bible Belt, for Chicago in mid-February. Well, I came here first. All-Star Weekend in Los Angeles was my final work assignment for the Oklahoma City Thunder. I took an early flight from LA to Chicago on a Sunday and began my new job at Playboy two days later.

Right now, I’m working for Playboy as a writer/editor/project manager for Playboy.com, and I came to the company at an interesting time. Playboy was taken private just as I arrived, layoffs were happening, the full-time gig I interviewed for was made a contract/limited time position, and now, nearly nine months later, the digital department is a few days away from being licensed out by a pornography powerhouse of a company based in Montreal.

While I was getting acquainted to the big city, Christina, god bless her heart, remained in Oklahoma City to finish up school and ride out our lease until the end of April. Well, things didn’t necessarily go to plan. Christina got so sick she was hospitalized, which led to the most challenging, gut-wrenching 2 1/2 months of our relationship. It pained me to be hundreds of miles away as she was ill and bedridden at her parents’ house. Thank god for her family, though.

Christina moved here on May 1 and ever since we’ve been adjusting to our new life in a big city. We still have the dogs, Francis and Zooey, who, if you ask me, love it here in Chicago, what with  plenty of sidewalks for long walks, parks for running around and all the dogs to sniff and bark at that they could ever ask for. For us, having dogs are like having children. They come first in our lives. We are those crazy people.

Life as an engaged couple has helped me grow up and take responsibility for things. At the end of the day, being in a committed relationship is like playing on a sports team; everyone has their own set of responsibilities, strengths and weaknesses. We both want to be good teammates and so far I’d say we’re winning in that regard.

One of the biggest adjustments we’ve had to make is downsizing. We went from a 900 square-foot apartment in Oklahoma City to a 500-something square-foot studio in a strikingly gorgeous, scenic Lincoln Park neighborhood.

The ‘hood is fantastic – boutique shopping, tree-lined streets, million dollar brownstones, parks, the lake, a college, a vast choice of restaurants – but our apartment building is definitely the ugly duckling of the block. It just doesn’t look like it fits. It’s beyond old, looks like something you’d find in Sweden and is run by the Russian mafia, or at least we think so. You get what you pay for, I guess.

Sometimes, it feels like college all over again. We are just a few blocks away from DePaul University, so there’s a lot of rentals in our area, including our building. Some days it’s been straight up reefer madness on our third floor, and other days it’s been a dance party.
Our apartment floors are made of old, creaky wood. Our kitchen floors are linoleum. The kitchen faucet makes a nasty grinding/farting/nails-against-the-chalkboard sound more regularly as the weeks turn into months. The actual cooking area is large enough for just one of us, which in the long run is no good. We have radiator heat, which I pray will do its job come winter months. The windows, of course, are drafty.

We no longer have a microwave, so leftovers are either put in a frying pan to reheat or in the oven. Oh yes, and there’s the occasional insect problem in the bathroom. Yes, it’s been a challenge – we got rid of both our couches, leaving us with a bed and recliner – but since we’re doing this all in the name of saving enough money to throw one kickass, memories-for-a-lifetime wedding, it’ll all be worth it in the end. I’ve never been more disciplined, lived a more frugal life, than right now. But again, it’ll be worth it. And once that wedding is in the books, we’ll be living large – or at least in a two-bedroom, two-bath apartment.

What else is there to say? As I write this, I get the feeling I should have split this into two or three blogs, but I’ve come this far, so…

I guess the only other thing I’ll say for now is that my work life has been more of a challenge than I expected. Working for Playboy has introduced me to a whole new world of entertainment and it’s a completely different editorial experience from what I’m used to. But at the end of the day it’s continued to open new doors for me as a writer. Ever since I got here, I’ve started freelancing for Yahoo! Sports’ ThePostGame.com, ESPNChicago.com and just had my first story published in Chicago magazine, about my first-hand experience of going to hand-pick and kill my own Thanksgiving turkey right here at a live poultry shop in the city. If the story ever gets put online I’ll be sure to post it here. It’s by far been my favorite assignment to date. In my opinion, it was the perfect mix of reporting, writing and first-hand experience. It was the kind of writing I want to continue to do. And it’s another reason why I need to keep blogging.

My New Favorite Song

Kanye West – \”Lost in the World\”

Full disclosure: I have a new favorite song at least once a week, maybe once every other day.

Music makes me wonder, makes me investigate. When I listen to a song, I want to know everything about it – its origin, what it means, whether it used instruments or was made on a laptop, and my favorite, whether the song is original or includes samples (I especially love finding those old school funk and soul songs that are either subtley or completely sampled in today’s rap tracks, but that’s another topic for another day).

Another full disclosure: I’m overly dramatic when I find a song I like. I share it with everyone I know (or at least who I think would appreciate it) and play it as loud as I possibly can, as often as possible, until I find a new one. I distinctly remember being a fresh college grad in Philly back in 2005 when I first heard Pavarotti sing “Nessun Dorma.” I used to stumble home from my favorite dive bar, fire up my Macbook, sit by myself in the dark and play that damn song on repeat six, seven times in a row. The song’s climax gives me chills to this day, when Pavarotti hits that high note and you can just visualize his tonsils vibrating through that mammoth mouth of his. And depending on my mood, the song could even bring tears to my eyes.

Like I said, I’m overly dramatic and emotional when it comes to music.

Which is why my obsession with the latest Kanye West song, “Lost in the World” might/could/would strike the average music fan as odd. But this song really speaks to me.

Now, let me make clear that I do not condone Kanye’s past actions, nor do I agree with most of anything he babbles about today on Twitter or through whatever media type will give him a platform. But I can’t dispute the fact that the man makes damn good music, which I respect.

And this song ranks up there with his finest, in my opinion. I love the way it adds one layer on top of another. When he croons “I’m down on my mind…./I’m lost in the world” you believe him because the way he sings it. He does it with such passion. And when the backup vocals come through, it’s like he’s not alone. Like this is some sort of struggle, but one he doesn’t have to go through alone.

But of course, I don’t feel for Kanye. When I listen to this song, it reminds me of myself. That’s why we fall in love with certain music anyway - the personal relationships, lost loves, hard times, fun times. For me, for so many of us all, music is about personal connections.

I feel connected to this song because, in my mind – literally – I’m going through some challenging times, both personally and professionally. And in some twisted way, I’m able to acknowledge certain emotions when I play this song. I feel lost in this world, in my profession, in my relations, probably at least once a day.

I’m getting nitpicky here, but I also love the way he uses Autotune on this track, and I typically don’t like Autotune. But it just makes the song sound smoother. Of course, this song samples Bon Iver’s “Woods” which is a great song by itself. Sexy even. (Yeah, I said it.)

Kanye could’ve ended the song with the looped chanting and I would’ve been content, but throwing in a Gil Scott-Heron sample added a nice touch. Classic spoken-word about politics and his state of America. When it ends with Scott-Heron asking, five times, “Who Will Survive in America?” I just nod my head in agreement. It leaves me asking myself a similar question: “how am I going to survive my own mind?”

Ever wonder where fortune cookies are made?

In San Francisco, they’re made down the narrow Ross Alley in Chinatown inside a small, dimly lit makeshift factory better known as Golden Gate Fortune Cookies, where the owner greets you with a tin can of warm, fresh, unrolled and unstuffed cookies and a bit of an edge to him.

Have to admit the whole experience had a shady vibe. There’s boxes upon boxes of fortune cookies and several Asian women working the cookie-making apparatus. I would have asked for a walk through or an explanation on how things work, but this owner wasn’t giving tours. 

In fact, there’s a sign that says, “50 cents a picture” and when I pulled out my camera the guy was right there waiting for my change. And the second I snapped this photo, we were quickly ushered out.

We did manage to purchase a huge bag of fortune cookies for $4.50, which came in strawberry, chocolate and vanilla flavors.

But honestly, I’ll never look at a fortune cookie the same again. Seeing so many of them in such a damp, dark space kinda left me with a fractured view on fortune cookies. Oh well. Not the end of the world.

Calistoga’s hidden gem

Order BBQ to the left. Feast to the right.

Chances are, if you’re headed to Napa Valley it isn’t for barbeque.

But one stop at Buster’s Southern BBQ & Bakery might change your mind.

Located in the heart of Calistoga, it’s easy to overlook this shack of barbeque heaven that’s set on the corners of Highway 29 and Lincoln Avenue, the main drag in town. There’s a Shell and Conoco gas station, and across the way is Buster’s.

If you want possibly the most unassuming meal in town, stop by, order one of their house specialties – the tri-tip sirloin steak sandwich ($7.50) or a rack of pork ribs ($11.50 half/$21.50 whole) – head over to the enclosed cedar wood patio with space warmers, cozy chairs and picnic tables, and grab a fistful of towels from one of the various bathroom-style paper towel dispensers.

You get a choice of hot or mild sauce or a mix of both on your meat. Mixing it up did the trick for this foodie; the sweet and tangy flavors set off fireworks in my mouth.

Every meal comes with a homemade biscuit on the side, and you can add to the order with one of several homemade sides, such as baked beans (delicious) or macaroni salad (super delicious).

You can sip on a Napa Smith Amber Ale draft, have a glass of sangria or a glass of 7 Heavenly Chards. Buster’s Real Lemonade quenched my thirst, and I loved how it wasn’t too sweet nor too watered down. It was just right. And the bits of lemon were the icing on the cake.

Oh, yes, and save room for dessert. They also have soft-serve ice cream.

Here’s a picture of where all the barbeque magic goes down. To the left, not pictured, are a few piles of wood that get shoveled into the pit throughout the day. This simple looking machine produces succulent results.

Marketplace Shops in Yountville

Just across the street from Bouchon Bakery in Yountville are the Marketplace Shops, where you will find Gallery 1870, home to the works of Eric Christensen, among other artists.

Christensen is a top-level wine artist who has made his mark with watercolors, which according to Gallery 1870 VP of Marketing and Development Kassia Kilgore is one-of-a-kind. According to Christensen’s bio page on the Gallery 1870 website, he is the “the only known artist capable of hyperrealism through the use of standard watercolor.”

Kilgore says that Christensen’s water color paintings, which range from pieces such as “Chardonnay Coast” to “Cabernet Day,” is better than most wine photography, and judging by his displayed work that’s hard to argue against.

An untitled water color painting by Eric Christensen

Criticizing the critics

I like to play this game from time to time – read what a newspaper or magazine critic has to say about a particular place or thing, try said place or thing and give my own two cents. (Kudos to The Woman for helping with this concept.)

So let me set the scene for you:

It’s Friday afternoon, and we decide to drive through Napa Valley for a little exploring. I pull out my week-old The New York Times Style Magazine, which, wouldn’t you know, has a section dedicated to Napa Valley!

In it, critic Jaime Gross suggests seven things to do in “11 Hours In the Valley.” At 4 p.m., Gross says, “nibble a macaron from Bouchon Bakery and wander Thomas Keller’s 2.5 acre garden.” 

We checked in a few hours early and scouted out the joint as we waited in line. First off, Bouchon Bakery is located in Yountville, which as I later found out is home to several Michelin-starred restaurants and next to Carmel might be the most charming little town I visited on my trip.

A few seconds of standing in line and my nostrils were filled with the scents of fresh bread and brewing coffee. And there, in the first row of baked goods was was a macaron for every color of the rainbow: lemon, vanilla, raspberry, chocolate, pistachio and caramel. I went with the lemon macaron, which had an outside as delicate as an egg shell and an inside with the perfect mix of cream and lemon gooeyness. Not a bad recommendation.

After savoring one of those, I went back in and asked the cashier, who was from Oklahoma by the way, what the Bouchon Bakery is best known for. I felt slightly stupid when he replied, “the bouchons.”

So I purchased a package of chocolate bouchons, six in a bag, and untied the nicely presented pouch. The rich chocolatey smell brought my taste buds to attention. The bouchons were as soft as a spongue and rich in taste. But they weren’t filling. So I ate two and saved the rest for later.

Another personal favorite was the oatmeal raisin cookie, which was something like I’ve never had before. Here’s the remains.

Thank you, California

When the girlfriend and I decided to book a vacation to her home state of California and started to map out the trip, I had one of these.

Well, because I’m a very visual person, the light bulb that lit up in my head was much brighter and less transparent.

Either way, when it was decided that I’d be making my long overdue first trek to northern California – wine country, the Bay Area – and tackle the ensuing hilly, curvacious, and at times frightening drive down the Pacific Coast Highway to Los Angeles, I thought to myself: this would be the perfect time to write about something other than sports. Something I don’t have to send to an editor beforehand, something I don’t have to worry about whether readers will enjoy, something I can do on my time and dime.

And since I’m not sure what the future holds for me as a sports journalist, I figured it’s now or never to try something new and fun while not sacrificing a good paycheck and great benefits.

So the following posts will encompass some of the places I visited on my California excursion. Mostly, they’re places to eat but there’s also an art gallery and vintage arcade thrown in there as well.

So here goes nothin’.