http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T0mronoPszI
I haven’t been able to stop watching this clip. HIMYM was my favorite show, but I’ll be honest, I clocked out after season 5. Man, this clip gets me thinking about that moment before each of us meets the one. I mean, in a world where you can arrange it on the Internet, I want to believe that it can still happen organically. The music is so perfect for this scene. And for someone like me, it gives me hope that somewhere along this journey, no matter how life gets us down, there’s that one moment for each of us, when all the bullshit fades away and you realize this person is the one you’re going to spend the rest of your life with…..Here’s hoping! I can’t wait for season 9.
Love listening to this song when I’m driving down the coast.
If you were to do a survey of all my friends back in 2002, you would’ve thought that the first person to get married would’ve been me. I was pretty damn close back then, but stuff happened and life got in the way.
How I Met Your Mother premiered on September 19, 2005, and shortly thereafter I met a woman who I thought was going to be my wife.
I had mostly been single for a year and was doing the bachelor thing when I met her at a bar in Sacramento. “Hey,” I said.
“Hey,” she replied.
I was living on my best friend’s couch while I put the last touches of the first manuscript I ever wrote, and was about to do a little backpacking when I met her and decided to live with her for a few months.
It should’ve been a happy ending, or maybe it should’ve been a happy ending. I’m not writing this entry to try and win her back. No. The point in all this, is that I’ve never been a great boyfriend, and I guess that’s mainly because I’m not necessarily holding out for that romantic, kick you in the balls type of love, which in my opinion is unrealistic, but whatever.
I guess my malfunction is that I really really really don’t want to get divorced, which is something I’ve seen over the years. And I knew that if I would’ve married any one of my past girlfriends, something bad might’ve happened because I wasn’t ready or mature enough to be in an adult relationship.
A couple’s been married for five years, they have a daughter, and all of a sudden, the wife decides she’s lesbian. Or, a guy gets married and is busy going through medical school, and the wife gets lonely and sleeps with her co-worker. Or, a guy gets married to the wrong woman and has six kids with her, and has another two kids with his mistress. You name it, and I’ve heard or seen it, and I just didn’t want any of that to happen to me.
Call it paranoia, call it being overly cautious; I didn’t plop down for the ring because I wanted to make sure my head was on straight.
It’s been eight seasons since the first episode of How I Met Your Mother, and it’s funny how the twists and turns in my life have somehow mimicked Ted Mosby’s journey.
If I didn’t leave my job two years ago to pursue writing, I’d have a house right now. That’s just one of the many crazy decisions I’ve made in that time span, but through it all, I can’t say that I regret anything.
If I didn’t backpack in 2005, I would’ve always wondered what was outside the United States. If I didn’t drive around the country, I would’ve always wondered what America looked like. If I didn’t quit my job and pursue my passion, I would’ve always wondered if I could’ve done something with my writing.
Since breaking up with my college girlfriend in 2003, I have met and dated quite a few women who I thought was going to be my one and only, and only now, at this age, can I honestly say that I’m ready to make a real commitment and be that boyfriend who becomes a great husband.
Yeah, I know, it took some time for me to get there. I know.
Whoever it ends up becoming, I want her to have that great story about how we met and how we fell in love.
Maybe it’s the girl at BJ’s who’s looking at my friend and doesn’t realize I’d be great with her. Maybe it’s the girl I’ll be holding in my arms as we dance on the sidewalk, or the girl who likes to have coffee. Or maybe it’s some blind date, or some Internet hookup.
We’ve got one more season of How I Met Your Mother, so hopefully it happens before Ted Mosby says, I do.
Old Dirty sends me an Instagram picture of a girl who’s about to read Old and Dirty. “How did you find this?” I ask. I’m flattered and at a lost that someone would think my novel worthy to post on their Instagram, and what makes it more interesting is that I don’t even know this person and neither does Old Dirty. What does this mean? I keep asking myself. Am I on the right path? Does this mean I’m good?
You tend to think these things as you struggle to make it as a writer and fight for legitimacy, so when I see something like this picture, I have to take a step back and try to understand the meaning of it all.
“I just did a search and it came up,” says Old Dirty. “It’s kinda cool when you think about it.”
I hate to harp back on my lack of hygiene lately, but since I’ve been locked away for the last few months writing my words, I’ve transformed physically into a slob. I mean, I literally smell like some people feel, and that can never be a good thing unless you smell like Herbal Essence.
My sleep schedule is messed up because of all this writing. I normally don’t fall asleep until six in the morning and I won’t wake up until three.
The last time I truly went out to do something, I drove to Raley’s so I could buy a pack of chimichangas, a two liter of Coke, a jug of cranberry juice, a box of Snicker’s ice cream bars, a carton of rocky road, chips and salsa, and a bag of Ranch Doritos.
That was my Saturday night, that, and a few Red Box movies.
“You know you’re old,” I tell Old Dirty, “when going out to the bar or the club pale in comparison to a night of stuffing your gullet with shit that will explode your heart one day.”
Where I’m going with this, I don’t really know.
My mind feels like the fractals from Infinite Jest.
You probably have to be a douche to get that reference, but whatever.
Steven Soderbergh (http://www.deadline.com/2013/04/steven-soderbergh-state-of-cinema-address/) recently gave a speech on the state of cinema, and he confirmed all the things that I had been feeling. Basically, that studio executives are in the business of making money and not in the business of making cinema, which if you’re reading between the lines, it means as a writer, I know what I should probably be writing about if I want to make it in this business. The trouble is, though, is that I don’t want to write about some bullshit teenager who discovers he has a superpower and how he manages to get the girl and save the world. That kind of stuff or any variation of it, just doesn’t interest me.
The Girls in Hoodies podcast on Grantland.com have an interesting take on it all (http://espn.go.com/espnradio/grantland/player?id=9256396).
Like me, they wonder why women and minorities aren’t fairly represented in cinema. You should check it out if you have the time.
Damn. It’s only Sunday and already the Doritos, the Coke, and the chips and salsa are all gone.
Whoever the girl is that took that picture, I just want to thank you for reading my stuff. Little things like that are what keep me going as I try to figure out my next move as a writer. I’ve been jumping in and out of my manuscript questioning myself every step of the way because that’s what you do when you’re a struggling artist.
I don’t think I’ve seen you in any of my book talks, but from your tattoos, you do seem like a cool person to have a drink with one day.
This isn’t me asking you out on a date, although I have to admit, it would be fun to have a burrito with some tattooed chick.
Taco Bell or Del Taco? You pick.
I’m just rambling and killing time before I have to sit back on my chair and write the words.
Oh, the self-loathing!!
I should probably end this blog with a positive note.
I brushed my teeth today, so I guess that’s a step in the right direction.
Is it too late for ice cream?
I’m about to find out.
My dad sent me a picture from India today, and for the first time in my life, I told him to go to hell. Some people will never be as cool as their father, and I am one of those few.
Indian food sounds like a good idea.
By John Blake, CNN
(CNN) -- When Peter Sprigg speaks publicly about his opposition to homosexuality, something odd often happens.
During his speeches, people raise their hands to challenge his assertions that the Bible condemns homosexuality, but no Christians speak out to defend him.
“But after it is over, they will come over to talk to me and whisper in my ear, ‘I agree with everything you said,’" says Sprigg, a spokesman for The Family Research Council, a powerful, conservative Christian lobbying group.
