Grass Stains and Grit

In the midst of a busy life that, while certainly not boring, has its fair share of routine, I was gracefully granted an opportunity to do something I haven't done for nigh ten years. This time the ball was bigger and inexplicably called 'soft.' The teammates were differently aged and quite varied in shape. The helmets were missing along with the base-paths. The grass was higher too, but the smiles were the same. The synthetic 'tink' of the aluminum bat. The playful banter was strangely familiar. And the required skills half-awakened within me.

For an hour or two, my circumstances vanished. The day of the week. The month. The year. My worries. My hopes. My dreams. My sweaty, windswept hair. My wallet sticking to my butt. Good or bad, everything was gone. I was on the balls of my feet anxiously anticipating the next hit to explode into my airspace. I was taking that pitch that was just a little too high. I was running full-on around the bases. I was yelling at the fielder, "Nice grab!" I was yelling at the catcher, "Good hustle!" I was yelling at the batter, "Swing!" I was making a fool out of myself, but any cares or concerns about that vanished along with all the other unimportant circumstances. It was softball practice. Such trifles were of no consequence. There were more pressing matters at hand.

And as I think back fondly on a memory aged less than 25 hours, I am quickly thrust into the annals of my childhood. Fowler's practice field. Watching the honeybees on the clovers. The high school baseball field. Thrown out at first. Making that diving catch. Getting that sweet-spot, line-drive base hit up the middle in little league. Bruises, grass stains, strikeouts. It all kind of came back.

And though with each year such memories gather dust and become less vivid impressions, their importance remains. They had a hand in making me me. Even the ones that have finally fully faded fated me to myself. Good and bad. Both. Even still they are treasured.

5:43 AM - 9 Comments - 9 Kudos - Add Comment

Ease Back
Category: Blogging

So, yes, it's been a while since I've blogged, and yes, it is a terrible shame. Look, I know it, you know it, we all know it, so I'm saying it. It's been said. That said, I will say the following. Permit me some latitude as I attempt to ease back into my notorious BenBlog form after a long, unplanned off-season.

Truth: The world was a more beautiful place a year ago. That's what love does--even the potential kind. Greens are greener. Breezes, more life-giving. Violets, more vivid. Skies, brighter. Sunsets, deeper. Moments, more momentous. Great. Awesome. But love also perseveres. Love creates moments of creativity in expression only because the true kind never fails. Great moments--romantic, creative, or otherwise--exist only because love suffers well the tragic, the dark, the mundane. It is within this understanding that I find it valuable to document those moments that are not-so-great in language that may not always be so polished and well-considered--paragraphs that may not necessarily contain both perspectives--or even a single complete perspective.

The truth is that I am a broken creation. Try as I might, all I can ever muster is a broken expression of broken thoughts. So why try to patch up the expression--or even the thought? Well, insecurity I guess. Perhaps. Sure, one can polish his writing, but we all know it didn't come out that way in the beginning. What if people became less interested in an orchestrated, polished product and more interested in the real deal--imperfections and all? What if writers spit out their minds and left it to the reader to sort out the details without any cheat-sheets?

Well, this is what I may offer to you at times. My apologies if I forget, neglect, or deliberately avoid polishing future thoughts and musings. Further apologies for the times when I will refuse--out of sheer insecurity or utter ignorance--to expound or clarify future, past, or present brainchildren. Thank you for your understanding.

In any case, for worse or for better, you can say it. It's true.

"He's back."

11:24 PM - 3 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

Of Highs and Hearts

This past Valentine's Day found me gallivanting about the Texas panhandle. New to Texas and far away from the familiar Allegheny Mountains of central Pennsylvania, I was easily intoxicated by the unique beauty of this exotic land. I eagerly drove south to Palo Duro State Park just east of Canyon, TX with an open mind on the open road. Zooming down the highway with the sun beatin' down, the sun roof slid back, and of course, the tunes a-blarin', I was in heaven. The horizon was a wide open expanse of God's creation--an exploration invitation. And I cheerfully accepted.

Though my camera phone's battery was on its last legs (thanks to my forgetting the charger in Austin three days earlier), I was fortunate to have enough juice left to document some of what I saw...

There is really no story here--save the oft overlooked beauty of this world in which we are fully immersed...

It's no Grand Canyon, but I was lord over this gorge for a few brief, but sweet hours.

9:13 PM - 13 Comments - 14 Kudos - Add Comment

Road Rage Mystery

Prepare to be riveted.

Are you prepared yet? ...okay. I'll take your word for it, but don't say I didn't warn you...

Have you ever seen any of these movies: Fight Club? Memento? Usual Suspects? Or the TV Show: The Twilight Zone?

If you have, then you know the incredible feeling of the inconceivable twist--the sudden realization that you've missed a vitally important piece of information that completely changes everything.

Well. This is just what happened to me a few nights ago. It was by far the most profound and complete Fight Club moment I've ever experienced in real life...


Wednesday, February 1, 2006.

10:08pm.

After meeting with a friend at Starbucks after small group (Wed. night small group rocks, just fyi), I hopped into my car and cranked on the tunes--Brian Wilson's Room, Harrod & Funck style, in case you're wondering. Shortly after zipping onto 24th Street, I realize that there's a vibin' RAZR in my pocket. Who disturbs my blissful driving/singing? None other than Shaun Cochran.

"What's up man?" I superficially inquired.
"Hey dude," Shaun responded, "I was just calling...blah bleh bleh blah blah"

He was just calling me to discuss some issues that had arisen regarding the condo that we're planning on moving into (along with four other guys) in August. I can't remember exactly what he was saying--partially because he likes to trail off at the end of his sentences to mere, inaudible whispers that are quite difficult to detect when you're cruising down MoPac at 112.65087 kilometers per hour.

"Hey, I'm probably going to cut out soon, just so you know," Shaun warned.
"What? Why?"
"I'm getting ready to turn onto 2222. The signal always cuts out down there."
"Oh, yeah, I know that spot. Wait. Where are you?"

When Shaun first called me, I assumed that he was already home since I was leaving about an hour late because of my meeting. So, it was at this point that I was starting to realize that I wasn't far behind (Shaun and I both live in the Lake Travis area, and we share much of the same drive to and from downtown).

"I'm turning onto 2222 right now."
"Near MoPac?"
"Yeah."
"Oh, no way!" I exclaimed, "I'm just a minute or two behind you."

Sure enough, moments after this exchange, Shaun's phone cut out. It was now my mission to catch up to Shaun.

Why?

Well...why not?

Since the roads were wet, I had to drive a little slower than normal, but I was making good time and I was catching green lights. I knew my only real chance to catch him would be if he got caught at the light at 2222 and 360. As I approached the light at 360, I spotted him! Just one car in front of me in the left lane was his new, shiny black Ford F150--a beautiful machine, if you ask me.

I placed a call to Shaun to make sure it was really him (I knew, of course, that Ford does mass-produce these F150s).

"Hello?"
"Shaun, where are you?"
"I'm at the light at 360."
"So am I! I'm one car behind you!"

Mission accomplished. I had caught up to him!

It didn't take long for the light to change. Apparently, Shaun had just missed slipping through the yellow light and was the first car in the left lane.

After we passed under 360, I moved into the right lane to pass the pick-up truck in front of me and get up closer to Shaun's truck.

"I'm in the right lane now," I reported as I briefly flashed my high beams on him.
"Yeah, I see you."

It was about this time that things became strange. Little did I know, they would only get stranger.

The car behind me flashed his high beams at me just as I had flashed mine at Shaun. It seemed a bit odd, but I figured that he was just being a copycat (you know, since I'm such a trendsetter).

I move back into the left lane, right behind Shaun. The mystery car followed suit and nestled in behind me. Once again, Mystery Car started flashing the beams at me. And again. And again. I started wondering, "Is this an undercover cop? Is something on fire on the back of my car? If he wants to pass me, why doesn't he just pass me?" I couldn't figure it out.

"Dude, what's this guy's deal?" I puzzled to Shaun. "He keeps flashing me."
"I don't know, man," Shaun answered.

Even stopped at the Jester Blvd light, Mystery Car kept flashing me. It was starting to freak both Shaun and me out a bit.

As we continued on, the intermittent flashing persisted.

"What's that guy's problem?" Shaun asked.
"I don't know, man. Maybe there's something wrong with my car or something. Maybe you can let me in front of you and you can look and see if anything is wrong."

I passed Shaun on the right and pulled in front of him.

"Do you see anything?"
"No," Shaun answered after reciting and laughing at my license plate.

Meanwhile, Mystery Car had pulled up right beside Shaun and started flashing his high beams again. This puzzled us even more. What was going on?

"Do you think it's an undercover police car or something?" I asked, exploring all possibilities.
"No, I don't think so. He would have a siren and everything if he was trying to pull you over."

I remained in front of Shaun all the way up Tumbleweed Hill until we approached the top. It was no surprise to me at all when Shaun pulled into the vacant right lane and accelerated past me. I've seen him do it before when we've shared the familiar twists and turns of 2222.

"Ahh, that's what I love about this truck. The power," Shaun exclaimed with an air of satisfaction.
"Dude, I could do that too if I wanted. I have a V6 over here!" I explained defensively.
"This is a V8, man!" Shaun countered.
"Yeah, but you've got all that extra steel to haul."

After a brief vacation from flashing his lights at me, Mystery Car started up once again with his antics. He also came up pretty close behind me. I switched into the right lane as I approached the right turn at River Place Blvd where Shaun and I would go our separate ways.

As we approached River Place, it became clear that Mystery Car was following me when he switched into the right lane right behind me and continued to flash his lights.

"Dude, he's gonna follow me. Would you mind coming with me just in case there is a problem?"
"Uhhh...I'm kinda in a hurry to get home actually," said Shaun. "Are you sure he's following you?"
"Yes, dude! He's right behind me. He's turning onto River Place too!" I exclaimed.

Shaun had already passed the intersection. I knew I was on my own.

"He's still following you?" Asked Shaun after a pause.
"Yeah, man, and flashing his lights and everything. This is getting kind of freaky...is he mad at me for flashing my lights at you? Did I cut him off or something? I hope this isn't road rage."

I decided that I probably shouldn't pull into my apartment complex and show this clown where I live, so I turned into HEB.

"Shaun, I'm going over to HEB to find out what this guy wants. That way, it's well lit and there are at least some people around in case there is trouble. Maybe you should come over here...where are you?"
"Well, I'm over on the other side of HEB at the light at 620 [and 2222]. Is he still behind you?"

I looked in my rear view mirror...

He was gone! I couldn't see him anywhere! How odd.

"N-no. Actually, I don't see him anymore. Well....nevermind then, I guess. Huh."
"That's weird. Well, okay. Call me if you have any problems or if you see him again."
"Okay, I will, thanks man. Have a good night."
"Good night."

Well, that was easy...or so I thought. As I pulled around the parking lot and headed to my apartment complex, who was it? None other than Mystery Car. This time, he was driving right for me...flashing the high beams in that familiarly sinister way.

Mystery car pulled up in front of me. Headlights to headlights. I did consider for a brief moment throwing the car into reverse and attempting a most daring escape, but it seemed clear: this was it.

Seeing that I had given up, Mystery Car pulled up beside me as I powered down my window. The darkly tinted driver-side window of the deep blue Mystery Car began to ease down. I would soon be face-to-face with my perpetrator. What would I face when that window came down? An angry man, red with rage? A ranting fiend flipping me the bird? Or even...a GUN?!?!?! I was ready for anything...well, as ready as anyone could be in a most harrowing situation as that.

Finally, the window rolled down and, peering right back at me, was this man.

....


....


That's right...it was none other than Shaun Cochran himself.

It had been him the whole time. He was driving Mystery Car. He was flashing his high beams. He was only pretending to be in the new, black Ford F150 that was so incredibly identical to his.

Stunned to the core, I was rendered virtually speechless. My mind was soon flooded with the realization that our entire conversation was not even close to what I thought it was. Shaun had been driving his old Acura this whole time. It didn't surprise me that I hadn't recognized it since it was dark, and I could scarcely remember seeing Shaun drive it. And the Ford F150? That wasn't Shaun at all.

"Wow...Shaun, that was incredible...my hat is off to you...that was incredible," I admitted, smiling widely.

Shaun was delighted.

While, clearly, some incredible circumstances all came together to make it possible, my hat is still off to Shaun for keeping his composure throughout the entire ordeal.

"It was all I could do to keep myself together," he laughed.

I never suspected a thing. I never even detected the slightest hint of anything but normalcy in his voice.

Incredible...

Well, I'm sure you have some lingering, unanswered questions. Perhaps Shaun will fill in some gaps. Please feel free to post comments and I'll try to respond to them. But I know there is one burning question that is on all of your minds right now. So, let me answer that one straight up...

I'm sure you're all wondering, "Will I ever put my hat back on?"
....I don't know, but...maybe...one day.........I will...

....until that day, my hat is off to you, Shaun.

8:12 AM - 15 Comments - 20 Kudos - Add Comment

Cracked Camera Phone Fun

Late Saturday night, I drug myself out of my apartment and embarked on a 20-minute, music-enhanced drive down to the UT campus to see the UT Tower. 2005 National Football Champions. I am still in a bit of disbelief. What an honor to arrive at HCBCUT in Austin the same year that Texas wins the national championship. Awesome. I must say, seeing the tower lit up in orange with the number 1 is something that I'm glad I didn't miss. It was quite a spectacle. Armed with my camera phone (cracked from a tragic dropping incident a few months back), I came within view of the tower through the trees...

The Tower, The Tower, The Tower is on fire! This guy was kind enough to hold really, really still for me. Who's that guy? Gotta love the photographer cap. The effect only my camera phone knows how to give (thanks to my precise dropping-phone-in-parking-lot skills). Hey lady! Thanks for the flash! Hmmm. A touch blurry, this one. Aliens were trying to abduct me as I took this. They misunderestimated the elusivity of my evasivity. Ghost Tower. OOoooOohOhOOo! Up? Down? Finally, one came out burnt orange.

10:46 PM - 4 Comments - 3 Kudos - Add Comment

Plane Heather

Sitting in the terminal, I absorbed the orchestra of random music all around me. The steady rhythm of luggage wheels on the tile floor, the jet engine noises echoing up the jetway, frantically toned interactions among the delta personnel and confused passengers-to-be, the almost palpable anxiety of those eager to bring their Christmas gifts home.

Finally, my plane to Atlanta boarded. Though some of the sounds changed and the space went away, the constant commotion remained.

It was in the midst of all this hullabaloo that I met Plane Heather. I call her Plane Heather—and not because she's plain. No, no. Quite the contrary. She's more like pepperoni or cranberry chicken...or something else, but certainly not plain. However, for whatever reason, Plane Heather has stuck in my mind. I came up with it (not to make it sound so brilliant or anything) when I was getting her myspace link. I named the text file, that's right, you guessed it: Plane Heather.

Anyway, I quite enjoyed talking with her! Here, just a month after I went gallivanting off to Austin, she went gallivanting off to Seattle. We also share the same age: 23 (a number which has practically been copyrighted by Nike...I hope I don't owe them anything for mentioning it here). We exchanged stories and experiences we have encountered thusfar on our merely month-old journeys into the unknown life that lies ahead of us. What an exciting time! Though, I can see on the horizon and already feel a growing desire deep within me to leave all the excitement behind and achieve some sort of stability (if the Lord wills). It seemed to me that Plane Heather was beginning to experience some of the same.

It was just really awesome in this joyous season in which we celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ, to see more evidence of Him at work. I am convinced that God is executing His will all around us, through us, and in spite of us. Life is what we allow God to make it.

12:02 AM - 1 Comments - 1 Kudos - Add Comment

Holes! I Need Holes!

I type to you now from the comfort of my wheelchair. No, I was not in any sort of accident resulting in physical injury or paralysis. I am healthy as a whistle (whistles rarely succumb to illness), and I am thankful to be healthy. Not, I'm sure, nearly thankful enough. It's such a drag to be sick.

So if you're still reading, you're probably wondering what I'm doing in a wheelchair. Well, it goes like this. I'm here at the Pittsburgh airport, and I just arrived at my gate (D80 for those of you scoring at home). I had been using my laptop battery in a loungish area, and I was hoping to recharge it. Well, the geniuses who designed the Pittsburgh airport, though they thought of free wireless internet (MAJOR kudos), did not think of electrical outlets (holes to you Seinfeld fans). So, upon a directive from the Delta dude at the desk, I found a lone electrical outlet in an area with no seating—save this comfy, unoccupied wheelchair.

So, here I sit, awaiting the arrival of our plane with bated breath. That's all! Just a quick note from the road! Hope you all had Merry Christmases.

PS: My plane just arrived.
PPS: My Wheelchair.
PPPS: They took my wheelchair.
PPPPS: I like moving sidewalks.

2:28 PM - 5 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Words are Weak

11:21 AM - 3 Comments - 3 Kudos - Add Comment

Vomit Quarters

What is a vomit quarter? I didn't even know until I discovered one on a beautiful, breezy, sunny Saturday afternoon on Nov. 19.

I was at work. Yes, at work on a Saturday. I was getting in a few extra hours because I had left early on the previous day (for a good reason). Anyway, at work was I. Tyson was there too. Though a bit frazzled from added responsibilities at work, Tyson seemed to be in a good mood. I sauntered outside, taking a brief break from my programming. There was Tyson cleaning up an unusually trashed parking lot.

"Dude, what happened here last night?" I asked. "Dunno, man," Tyson responded without looking up as he continued picking up the bottles, cans, and other trash objects with his latex gloves.

Apparently, some random vagrants had enjoyed some sort of gathering in our small parking lot some 12 hours earlier. As I looked around, I noticed a pretty respectable puddle of vomit. It sat flat on the pavement like a firework frozen in the sky. Curiously centered amid the dried remnants of someone's chymey, rejected meal was a quarter. A quarter!

Now, let me tell you. If it was a dime or a nickel or certainly if it was a penny, I would have easily continued back to my script inside. But it was a quarter! How could I just leave it lying vulnerably on the street? I couldn't. I wouldn't.

Don't worry. I didn't touch it. I looked around for some makeshift tweezers, and to my great delight, I found two small twigs not too far away from the site of the unpleasant incident. Carefully, so very carefully, I deftly snatched up the quarter in the inescapable grip of my twigzers. Tyson flashed an understandably incredulous look at me.

"What?! Dude, it's a quarter!" I explained.

Back inside, I began the cleansing process. I carefully placed the specimen on a saucer as if I were a surgeon depositing a removed shard of shrapnel onto a metal plate. A little hot water, antibacterial soap, a nice soak, and some scrubbing later, I was all of 25 cents richer.

Where will I spend my newfound riches? If history is any indication, I will probably end up using my vomit quarter to help fund a game of cut-throat at Double Dave's with my little pals Zac and Blake.

The real question, however, is this. How did the quarter find itself amid human vomit? Was the quarter already on the pavement when the vomiter spewed his stomach's contents directly upon it? Was the quarter somehow placed into the center of the vomit later? Or, perhaps more unexpectedly, was the quarter actually a part of the vomit itself—or even the cause? We may never get to the bottom of this terrible mystery...

The Vomit Quarter


The Vomit

9:58 PM - 9 Comments - 10 Kudos - Add Comment

The Allure of Things

Today was kind of a strange day for me. I have too many speculations as to what contributed to the strangeness to explain them all. A lot of things just didn't really go right for me today. The Steelers lost in OT without Big Ben, I made a really bad decision with my fantasy football team today (one that cost me 30 points), and many other little things that I can't quite put my finger on gathered together to make Sunday, November 20, 2005 a particularly awkward day for me.

Then, after all that, tonight I realized that I had lost something very important to me. Something that is precious to me. Something meaningful, yet small and inexpensive. Something so meaningful to me, in fact, that the mere thought of losing it, the sinking feeling that it was indeed gone, nearly brought me to tears. And I was sure I had lost it. I searched everywhere that it could have possibly been. I was trying to trace when I last remember having it and where it was. But I was coming up empty. It was a truly sinking feeling. And there, in the midst of those moments of bridled panic, I became frustrated with myself. It was just that...an it. A thing. An important thing? Yes, but still, just a thing. Not only that, but I felt like I wanted to talk to someone about it....not that that is wrong, but it revealed to me that I'm not depending on God like I should be. While I feel like I am growing and growing, and giving many things in my life over to his control, I think God is showing me that I have most certainly not arrived—not that I ever will as Paul so suitably points out in Philippians 3:12. "Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus." ....heh...sorry, that's more than just verse 12, but I couldn't stop....Truth is soooo...mmmm....powerful and refreshing, you know?....wow...that is awesome....even now, reading that, I feel uplifted and encouraged...not that feelings are the important thing, but I delight in Truth.

Anyway, I guess I'm rambling now, but I suppose BenBlog would be the proper place for my ramblings.

So, back to the story. I have learned that I am not completely reliant on God as I should be. Perhaps I was weakened by the general strangeness of the day, but that's no excuse...in fact, it's all the more reason to be relying on God!

Then, when I had finally given up on finding this simple thing that holds such significance for me, there it was. Right in front of me. And I couldn't believe it. In my somewhat frantic search, I had completely missed it. How? I do not know.

I am indescribably thankful that it has been found. I am thankful that God gave it back to me. And I am even more thankful that God used this experience to reveal some areas of immaturity. I know I need to step up and watch my heart. Earthly things—objects, cars, even people—do not and never have satisfied in the absence of God. It's just a fact. Despite the fact that I know this, I still see just how vulnerable I am to falling into the age old materialism trap of the enemy. If I can't get a grasp, maybe I should just throw this thing out, you know? As Paul says, "Everything is permissible for me, but not everything is beneficial. Everything is permissible for me, but I will not be mastered by anything." (1 Cor. 6:12) May that be my heart. May God give me the strength to continue to grow and avoid the many traps of materialism that the enemy is sure to set for me throughout my entire life. Because, with Christ's power, stepping into such traps is voluntary.

9:42 PM - 3 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment