Good thing she likes football ...

As I approach one year of dating Allison, especially over Super Bowl weekend (you'll understand more on that soon), I find myself laughing at all the interesting and amazing ways she and I even managed to become an item.

I'll start with January 2, 2012, which is the day we met. We know this because I have a note in my iPod about the book she was reading, she has a note in her iPhone about a book I suggested to her. We figured that out one day after February 5, 2012. Why? Well, because from January 3 until Super Bowl Sunday of last year, Allison didn't talk to me.

At all.

Why didn't she talk to me?

I defiled her book.

The same book that attracted her to me to begin with.

Let me explain:  Allie is to books like Eric is to technology ... she loves her books. And my 'defiling' of her book was me writing my name and number on a piece of paper (not part of the book) and slipping it between the pages while she was in the bathroom.  Harmless, no?

As it turns out, no, it wasn't harmless. 

She said she found it the next morning while reading in the tub. It fell out of her book. She was hot pissed I touched her book, and proceeded to tear up my name and number, say something along the lines of "Forget that guy" and then gave me the cold shoulder every time she saw me after that.  In fact, I got the back of her head for most of the night when we were celebrating a mutual friend's birthday smack dab in the middle that stretch of 34 days, January 19th for the 32nd Annual Davidus Celebration. Completely ignored me, right up until the night of February 5, 2012, the Super Bowl between the New York Football Giants and New England Patriots.

I wanted to watch the game, but didn't want to watch it alone, so I went down the road to Austintown, Ohio's most diverse meeting place and watering hole, Bill's Place, to watch the game. I haven't counted seats, but I'm guessing there are probably 50 seats at the bar. Bar is a rectangle, all four sides have flat-screens, so it's easy to watch the game from darn near any seat at the bar.

The only problem:  There was one seat left at the bar when I got there.

Next to Allison.

Who I was pretty sure hated me, for reasons I didn't know, or understand. 

But I walked up, and said hi and asked if it was okay if I sat there because there was no other seat at the bar. None.

"If you have to," she said, with a disgusted look.

I sat down, told her that if her friend showed up, I'd give up the seat. 

"Whatever."

And that's how it was right up until about the middle of the first quarter where my series of  witty quips must have broken through the fortress around her books I had built up by defiling her Compendium of The Walking Dead a little over a month prior.

Ten days later we kissed. It was the day after Valentine's Day.

Four days was our first 'real' date ... and it's been all great since then.  I just make sure to ask permission before touching her books now!

So yeah, it's a good thing she likes football, otherwise she might not have ever talked to me again. 

Love you, Allie :*

Eric's Summer Reading ...

Heh, I ain't running till they invent orthopedic medicine.
Fuck a twisted knee. Y'all have a blast.

Featured at marriedtothesea.com ...

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Yeah, that's my line. I should have listened. Apparently, my knee has decided it is done cooperating with the rest of my body and wants to wobble to and fro like a spinning weeble on linoleum. (And try to remember, weebles wobble but they don't fall down.)

Well ... being on call last week sucked ass. Worked way to many hours. Luckily my class finished on Monday (and I got my stuff done with two minutes to spare. Two minutes.) and I got a B+. Which is fine with me. A or B = 100 percent tuition reimbursement. Which I get to turn around and use to pay for my next class.

So with being on call and having a knee that's just killing me (yeah, going to see a doctor on Friday), I managed to read a few books too ... since I had to stay close to home and my knee is killing me, why not lay around and read?

So what have I read? Um, a lot. Really.

Seven Star Wars books (shut it. I'm a nerd.) including three in the on-going "Legacy of the Force" series; "Path of Destruction" a story written during the Old Republic -- a period a thousand years before Palpatine. The book is about the changing of the Sith, and a good read to give some of the history and backstory. Also got my hands on the new Timothy Zahn story "Allegience" that takes place shortly after the destruction of the Death Star in Episode IV; as well as reading his "Outbound Flight" and "Survivor's Quest" series.

One of the things I love about the universe of Star Wars novels in existence is the way many different writers have taken up a role in the growth and expansion of the Star Wars universe. Zahn and Michael Stackpole are two of my favorites, and I've read many of their non-Star Wars books, as well.

Non Star Wars books I've devoured lately:

"Someday I Will Be Invincible" by Austin Grossman. Interesting read .... Sci-Fi fantasy stuff about metahumans who are either good or bad. Told from two distinct points of view - each chapter is told first person by either the protagonist or the antagonist. Takes a bit to get into that style ... but it was a pretty good read.

"Then We Came To The End: A Novel" by Joshua Ferris. Story of the dying days of an ad agency, and a unique look into the people and their psyches as the layoffs ensue and the drama mounts. Having lived through the decline of a corporation and been a layoff, I can attest to the weirdness that exists.

"The Cult of the Amateur: How Today's Internet Is Killing Our Culture" by Andrew Keen ... all about how we're losing subject experts in fields of writing, music and advertising ... i.e. creatives, because anyone with a broadband connection can upload their mediocrity to the web ... and those who are gifted are often lost in the clutter of those who *think* they are gifted. Great book, kinda scary at the same time.

Next on the list - "Pride and Prejudice" by Jane Austen. And my Astronomy textbook. Cause school's a bitch.

Anyone have suggestions after I finish those two?

Rub some dirt in it

So I'm reading this self-help book (because I'm the only one that can help me, right? Right) and came on the greatest quote:

"If I had my life to live over again, I'd dare to make more mistakes the next time." ~ Nadine Stair

Made me stop and think because I know I'll make about every mistake you can make. In life. In love. At work. At home. If there's an opportunity to say or do something that can turn out one of two ways - odds are I have - or will - choose the wrong one.

Luckily, I don't often make the same mistake twice. Sometimes, yes. But not often. And not lately.

But this quote made me smile, because it's someone else who realizes that making mistakes isn't the end of the world.

And it made me realize some of the best things that have ever happened to me can be directly traced to a mistake I made.

Okay, back to work. Probably to make mistakes.

Great Book about the Music Biz

About 10 years ago I was in Columbus for the East Coast Hockey League's initial tryout camp, held at the Chiller in Dublin (then the only Chiller in Columbus). And I knew a bit about Columbus then, but not enough not to get lost. (And no, I wasn't trying out to play hockey for the ECHL.

I was there reporting on the thing for my own minor-league hockey publication called "Hockey Talk" that I published from 1994-1997. My organized hockey playing days ended in the military. My rec-hockey days ended in 1993 when I had my first knee surgery.)

But yeah, like I still do now, I was trying to get somewhere in Columbus and got lost.

This time, I wound up on Sawmill ... but in Powell. Out where all the new stuff is.

Back then, there was a strip mall and a gas station.

In the strip mall was a mom-and-pop record store.

There I bought a cassette. That I loved. And promptly lost. And forgot all about.

Until about a year ago.

Well, maybe earlier than that, but it stuck in my head. I could remember the cover, but not the name.

I knew it was Jennifer (something).

I searched.

I googled.

I spent hours looking in used stores (yeah, that's torture for a guy like me, eh?)

And then one day, while killing time in some city, I was at a book store, looking for some good
Henry Rollins to read, when I saw this

"Everything I'm Cracked Up To Be - A Rock & Roll Fairy Tale"
by Jen Trynin.

DING DING DING DING DING DING

Jen Trynin. Yeah. That's it. That's the CD I've been looking for. "Cockamamie" was the name.

Yeah. White cover. Blue words.

Wait. This is a book.

She wrote a book? Really? I gotta read that.

Well I grabbed the book, finally, from the library on Monday. And read it Monday night.

Wow.

Now let me back up and say since I finally found her name, I also found her website where I ordered both of her CD's, released in the mid-90's, and forgotten by everyone involved, shortly thereafter. And she gave up the music business, got married, when to college, now has a family.
I'm sure if you she walked down the street, even I wouldn't recognize her.

But you might recognize the quasi-hit she had with "Better Than Nothing" back in 1995.

But not the rest of the story. Because I never knew the story until I read the book.

Wow, again.

It's a must-read for anyone who is, or wants to be, a musician.

As a guy who has friends struggling like hell to make a living playing music, because they're gifted musicians, this book was an amazing eye opener into a side of the business I'd never seen before. And a side I'm sure most fans have never been exposed to. There was serious math to be done just to try to follow the part where she explains exactly what musicians get from a standard contract; from the sale of a CD, how advances are handled, expenses recouped; publishing rights; performance pay; tour support and the endless streams of interviews, radio games and flat out crap that artists have to go through.

Makes me give that much more respect to people who do that.

Think about it. Everyone has their own unique gift - that one thing they do the best.

But how many of us share them with the world? I like to believe, among my gifts, are my writing and photography. I share the writing here, and the photography here. And I've not made a dime from my photography. In fact, I've never even been paid for a picture I've taken since 1992 when I was a newspaper reporter.

But neither my writing nor my photography are what I rely on to pay my bills, either.

But I know people who drive all night, city to city, to play music to people they don't know and may never meet, often times in clubs they'd never be seen in, if they weren't the performer.

Sometimes they get paid. But it's not a lot.

Often times they get screwed. In many ways. And none of them good.

The club is over-booked, underbooked, bands don't show, people don't show. The sound guy sucks. There are no lights, not enough power outlets, not enough space.

Then there's the money, or lack thereof: The 'guarantee' they were promised? "By who?" or "That's not our policy" or "I can't give you that because the place was empty."

The person responsible for counting those who come to the show - lets his friends in free, or undercounts, so the band doesn't get a fair take of the cover charge, if they're getting anything from it at all.

Or they're just flat-out screwed - "Well, the guy who pays bands isn't here. We'll send you a check."

If they're lucky ... and this is in the words of someone I know, "I'm making enough in each city to get to the next gig, so that's good."

That's good? Just making enough to get from one dark, smelly, bad-sounding club to the next to do what you love for hopefully a hundred, but more likely a dozen, people? Night after night?

That's dedication.

And that's why I go to see bands you've never heard of. That's why I have no desires or intentions of trying to sell the photos I take of them, to them, or to anyone else.

They give music to me. On stage.

I give them pictures. Of them. On stage.

As well as my $5 at the door.

So don't bitch about the cover charge ... read this book, and you'll understand.

Getting Healthy Several Ways

Well, not sure what exactly was wrong with me, but about 10 p.m. it left.

I got up after watching Lost on Wednesday, realized that

• I could breathe
• I wasn't coughing
• I didn't feel light-headed and weak
• I didn't feel like I was going to vomit
• I actually felt good for the first time in about a week.

So I did what anyone else would do ... looked around and said, "Damn, this place is a mess" and cleaned ... and did laundry ... and when all that was done I started reading the most amazing book: The Case for Christ by Lee Strobel - A Journalist's Personal Investigation of the Evidence for Jesus

This book was recommended to me by Kerry after I told her I was less of a doubter and starting to think that maybe I've just been missing the big picture. And as someone who's known me for going on 10 years (hey, Friday would have been our 10th Anniversary ... yeah, I remember our first date was a Friday the 13th of January, 1996, and we went to see "Se7en" (bad first date movie, granted) and then went out again the next night to Chi-Chi's, drank sangria because you didn't drink beer [then] and went across the street to Damon's to play Music Trivia ... which we lost on a Hall and Oates question.. Yeah, I'm like Rainman. I'm an excellent driver. But Hall & F'n Oates? Gah!)

Wait, where were we? Oh yeah, The Case for Christ by Lee Strobel and why she recommended it to me. Because she knows that a book written by a former journalist who flies cross country to interview a dozen experts with doctorates from schools like Cambridge, Princeton, and the Brandeis who are recognized authorities in their own fields, then peppers them with questions like:

• How reliable is the New Testament?
• Does evidence exist for Jesus outside of the Bible?
• Is there any reason to believe the resurrection was an actual event?

would resonate with me in the areas that we journalists who lived on the "prove it or shove it" mentality would understand.

Yeah ... the perfect book for me.

How do I know this so far? In the introduction, Strobel says the following: "For much of my life I was a skeptic. In fact, I considered myself an atheist. To me, there was far too much evidence that God was merely a product of wishful thinking, of ancient mythology, of primitive superstition." and "But that's all I had every really given the evidence: a cursory look. I had read just enough philosophy and history to find support for my skepticism - a fact here, a scientific theory there, a pithy quote, a clever argument. Sure, I could see some gaps and inconsistencies, but I had a strong motivation to ignore them ... "

Um, hello? Did I write both of those?

I could have ... that was exactly the way I felt about the subject, as well.

As he sums up the introduction: "As far as I was concerned, the case was closed. There was enough proof for me to rest easy with the conclusion that the divinity of Jesus was nothing more than the fanciful invention of superstitious people. "Or so I thought."

Yeah, I hear ya, Mr. Strobel.

I was the same way ... or so I thought ... until a seeming innocent conversation with Kara about why she was going to Grad School got my brain thinking (read the blog entitled something like me asking to borrow a Cray with a cerebral interface for more details).

Strobel started his journey after his wife converted in 1979. He was worried about her not being fun anymore, but found he was wrong, and was surprised - even fascinated - by the fundamental changes in her character, her integrity and her personal confidence, and that led him on the path to find out why. As he says, he launched an all-out investigation into the facts surrounding the case for Christianity. And as the former legal affairs editor for the Chicago Tribune, he turned his law-school education and his journalism degree loose, and looked at numerous categories of proof. So far I'm 30 pages in. I'm fascinated by this book.

Yeah, I checked it out from the library, but I have the feeling that by the end of the week, I'll own this one.

Wait, where were we?

Oh, yeah, my health ... Much improved ... physically ... and on the way spiritually.

Thanks for asking!