I always tell people that the bond I made with my girlfriends from college is a bond I haven't found anywhere else.
I went to school in the hills of Olean at St. Bonaventure University, and I will always have wonderful things to say about the school itself, but even better things to say about the people I met there.
During freshman year, I became friends with a group of girls very similar to me. They came from good homes, they enjoyed the same music and they knew how to have a good time. The years passed by and we eventually moved in together and then graduated together. Some were from Buffalo; others were from Rochester, Syracuse and Binghamton. For anyone who has had the privilege of going away to school, you can probably relate.
It's now a rare occasion for us to get together, but when we do it's always a conversation that I can't stop listening to, and laughter that I never want to end.
On Wednesday night, I went to dinner at the Left Bank with a couple of the girls to celebrate a birthday. The 24-year-old girls sitting around the table with a bottle of wine are completely different people from our days as rebellious 18-year-olds celebrating freedom from our parents with a case of cheap beer. What used to be talks about boys and parties are now talks about careers, unforgettable (and forgettable) memories, and our many quarter-life crises.
These times together may be few and far between, but the girls are another family to me. Maybe I'm just being girly and over-dramatic, maybe it's the holiday spirit, or maybe it was too much wine, but whatever it is, it's something I hope everyone has the chance to experience
So I'm working on getting myself back into shape - I know Kelly talked about this before, but Kelly is already a gym regular, and if you've seen her, the girl is fit. No, this post is for people more like me: pudgy, mildly uncoordinated and addicted to health-related vice.
I'm quitting smoking, I'm cutting back on my drinking, and making strides on my diet. Granted, these are all recent changes (like 2 days recent and I've already had some hiccups), but I'm really gonna make it happen.
I have a plan. Well, sort of.
First, my buddy Sean and I are going to start running regularly - today's our first run - so I think I've actually got some help to clear that first hurdle. Anyone - especially gym rats - will tell you it's always better to work out with a partner, and since Sean and I are beer-gut bros, I think we can keep each other motivated. Especially since Sean can be such a competitive jerk about it.
But I really hate running - it hurts, man. So here's where I'm gonna make up for what I know are going to be temporary running lapses: BOXING.
This is really the crux of my plan - a few months ago I lost a pretty substantial amount of weight when my buddy Scott had me in the gym floating like a butterfly and stinging a heavy bag like a mad man. I swear I've never enjoyed or got so much out of a work-out, and that includes when I was a swimmer in high school.
I recommend it to anyone - guy, girl, flabby or lean. It releases aggression, and punching, when done properly and safely, is killer cardio. (But seriously, make sure you have someone show you how to punch properly - it's really easy to hyper extend an elbow or hurt yourself wailing away at a heavy bag. Take a class or get someone who knows what they're doing to show you the ropes the first time out.)
So that's my work-out plan for now - I'm scheduling in 3 runs a week and trying to hit a boxing gym 3 times a week as well. Ambitious for sure, but I think it'll work.
Here's where I'm struggling though: my diet.
I eat like crap. Any suggestions for a diet that someone who likes carbs, likes red meat and really loves hamburgers, can follow?
Ok, so I know I've been pessimistic about Buffalo sports fans and all, but here's a video of the tailgate surrounding the Bills/Cowboys game in October.
This explains two things: 1) Why Bills fans are the best 2) Why Bills fans have an arrest record for the ages.
This past Saturday was National Adoption Day and November is National Adoption Month. Being adopted myself, I will always have a soft spot in my heart for any family that has experienced the joy of it. I feel like one of the most blessed individuals to have been brought up in a family full of love, respect, and total support.
My family is very unique. I also have a Korean brother who my parents welcomed into our family when he was almost 3 years old. I can still remember the day he came running through the door with his arms out. I was petrified and unaware that my life was going to be different from that point on. Even though my brother and I don't always agree on things, I would do anything for him.
Flipping forward to today, my family operates the same way most families do. We have our laughs and we have our arguments. We have experienced the death of a loved one together and have overcome the curve balls that life has thrown our way. We may not look like your everyday family: two Irish parents, an Italian daughter and a Korean son, but I wouldn't want it any other way.
I sometimes sit back and wonder where would I be if such good people hadn't adopted me? Would I have a stable home? Would I have received a good education? Would I have been happy?
A question I am often asked by people is, "don't you want to know who your real parents are?" My answer to them is this: my real parents are the ones who raised me to be the person I am today. I have nothing but respect for the woman who had the courage to give me away, but she doesn't hold a candle to the parents who held me when I cried, attended every cheerleading competition, stood by my side at my graduation, and who tell me they love me each and every day.
I just wanted to share a quick update on the State of Buffalo Fan Behavior following the Bills' Sunday shellacking at the hands of the New England Patriots.
While I didn't go to the game, I know several people who did along with several travelers in town for the game. And while I hoped (and honestly believed) a fan base relatively accustomed to losing would handle defeat with a modicum of dignity, early word-of-mouth reports are telling me that's not the case.
Bearing in mind this is all hearsay, many people I spoke with said hometown fans became hostile as quickly as the game turned into a blowout. Several Patriots fans told me that while they were anticipating being heckled, they were surprised at the violent threats they received and decided to leave midway through the third quarter to avoid trouble.
Another Canadian gentleman I met, sporting no fan gear marking fandom either way, said when he stood up after Randy Moss' third touchdown catch, others around him threw beer cups and other trash while shouting at him. For standing up. To go to the bathroom. Seriously.
Now I know all this is hearsay, but I'd be willing to bet in the coming days that there will be news reports that will say either the volume or magnitude of drunken goonery was uncomfortably high. I really hope I'm wrong.
As a fan, I've been known to be boisterous and use colorful language, but there's a fine line between funny and being a jerk. I'm not saying entire stadiums should be G-rated, but I'd hate for a certain spelling-challenged Arizona commenter to be justified in calling us Buff-oooooons.
-Evan Parker Pierce
PS: I know I return taunts. The difference? These guns stay holstered.
In and out and on and on Everybody goes And where the fun with finally stops Everybody knows -Happy Birthday Blues by B.B. King
The above lyrics were the original start of what was going to be a mopey, woe-is-me type post about today, my 25th birthday. And to be certain, as midnight passed and all of a sudden I reached the literal midpoint of my 20s, I was feeling a little melancholy. Reflecting on where I am in life, what I've done and - in a dangerous train of thought - how I compare to my peers. Oof, I was not feeling good about getting older.
Then, two hours before the end of my overnight shift, my boss walked in.
"Happy birthday! Good for you! Oh man, you're just a baby," he said. "And look where you're at, what an interesting life you've got going on. You're writing that blog, you get to review concerts, you've got this interesting job [BTW, that's not just boss talk - even with the periodic overnights, my current job is pretty sweet]. You're doing what you want to do."
I was kind of caught off guard by this well of optimism. "Hey thanks," I mumbled. "I was actually just writing a post about it, not quite as optimistic sounding as that though."
"Man, what I wouldn't give to be 25 again," he continued, ignoring my lameness. "Man, at 25, I was wild. Geez, I'm lucky to be alive. No, I'd like to be 25 again knowing what I know now. You've got it all ahead of you."
And all of a sudden, I didn't feel bad anymore. I simply couldn't. He was right - things aren't so bad, and I still have a chance to make them better.
That's not to say there's no room for improvement. I am, after all, still working "just a" job, still in school, still single ("When I was 25, I was married," my mother reminds me). But I'm young enough that I haven't plateaued yet. And that goes for the rest of us Twentysomethings - 20, 21 or even 28, 29 years old - we're still on the upswing. We don't have to settle.
Most of us, at some point or another, have probably been told "it's time to start thinking about settling down" or to "consider your future." There's some (OK, a lot) of merit to that advice, but we're living in a time where social, political and economic variables are unknowns beyond anything our parents and grandparents have experienced. It's not that they didn't have tumult in their time (WWII, Vietnam, Reagan), but it was more clearly defined. Their roles were more clearly defined. Right now, most of us are simply clamoring for a niche while society redefines what it means to love, have family and have success.
So whether you're a college junior or just graduated, jobless or gainfully employed, just getting your drinking license or staring 30 in the face: just because you're not a kid anymore doesn't mean you still can't imagine what you'll be when you grow up. For me, that means continuing to work on my writing, doing well in school and focusing on my path, not measuring up to others. For others, it could mean getting that internship, going for that promotion or even out-and-out switching careers. Who knows where your passions lie? It's up to you to follow them.
Just don't wait until you're 40, because at that point...
I will admit it, I find a few reality shows entertaining. And Kelly you're right, you are definitely not alone in loving reality TV. My roommate is a reality TV junkie. Maybe it's the fact that I'm usually silenced when I enter her room during a new episode of "The Hills," or that she can't be bothered during prime time hours three out of seven days of the week, that makes me shun most reality television shows.
The shows I enjoy are usually the ones that require some actual "reality." My favorite is NBC's "The Biggest Loser." The show is a fitness reality series and follows a group of obese contestants during a three-month-long weight loss competition.
I may be wrong, but I think it's highly unlikely that producers are staging the actual "weight loss" part of this show. Unless these contestants are all involved in some behind the scenes liposuction, I think the amount of weight they lose is pretty impressive and worthy of a prime time television spot. At least with this kind of reality TV they are promoting a healthy lifestyle instead of a luxurious, fame-filled and morally void existence.
I'll even watch a few minutes of "Rock of Love" to get a laugh from the female contestants fighting for the love of Bret Michaels, who I'm sure is quite the catch.
But "The Hills" is too much. I just can't bring myself to listen to the drama of girls whose lives seem to revolve around material possessions. Whether or not that is true, the show's producers do a pretty good job of depicting the characters as spoiled brats who live in the boutiques of L.A. If the show revolved more around Lauren Conrad's career as an aspiring fashion designer (or whatever she does) and not her cat fight with wha'ts her name, maybe I could understand why it belongs on national television.
But the truth is that it does belong on national television because, as Kelly wrote in a recent post, millions of people love it and can't bring themselves to turn the channel.
I watch the news to keep up on current events; I keep up on sports to root for my favorite teams and because they are exciting, and I tune into police dramas for the twists and turns of the plots. But my real guilty pleasure is reality TV.
As ignorant as reality programming is, I can't help but be drawn into the constantly trashy entertainment value of it. The divas on "The Hills," the wrath of chef Gordon Ramsey on "Kitchen Nightmares," the belligerence on "The Real World," and the circus on "I Love New York 2" are what really get me through the week.
I know I'm not alone. These shows wouldn't be on prime time television if there weren't millions out there who also indulge in the pleasures of reality TV. Some of the most masculine men I know talk about how they hate Spencer Pratt ("The Hills") and how cute they think Lauren Conrad is.
Even celebrities are getting wrapped up in the drama. Bret Michaels of the band Poison tried to find his "Rock of Love" this year (unsuccessfully), Heidi Klum is about to kick off season four of "Project Runway," and actress Jane Seymour and Las Vegas guru Wayne Newton were on "Dancing With The Stars."
I think I find these shows so entertaining because they are so ridiculous. They may be known to undermine the intelligence of their viewers, but that certainly hasn't stopped people from watching them. They are also a great conversation icebreaker.
And as much as I can't stand the vainness of Tiffany "New York" Pollard and her male entourage on "I Love New York 2," you better believe I will be watching her show at 9 tonight with my cell phone on silent, and a nice big bowl of popcorn.
Sunday I went with my grandparents to Medina's American Legion, Butts-Clark Post 204, for a Veterans' Day Breakfast benefit. The lovely ladies of the Ladies Auxiliary served eggs, homefries and French toast to all comers to raise money for AL activities. An added bonus: all veterans ate for free.
I know many people whose entire experience with Veterans' Day is strictly as a government-sanctioned day off. You know, like Columbus Day.
But for many more - myself included - it's literally a reminder of what a great number of men and women give to us and our country: themselves.
Being a veteran doesn't completely define the lives of most of these people; my grandfather (pictured in the dapper green shirt) is a World War II vet, but he'd rather you think of him as a cowboy. Seriously. As a soldier he witnessed the liberation of concentration camps and the horrors they contained, and years later it's still difficult for him talk about. But at 80 years old, he's pretty well adjusted, and he's been lucky enough that none of his children or grandchildren have had to experience warfare.
Others aren't so lucky - some of those who have served are physically or emotionally scarred. Those that have served more recently - from Vietnam to current conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan - are exposed to unique stresses I can't even imagine.
But whether they were drafted, enlisted or commissioned, whether they joined for college money, a job or a career, all veterans deserve recognition and respect.
Click the photo for more pics from Sunday's breakfast.
Just a quick weekend post, because I know I double booked some of you with not one but TWO conflicting Saturday night events.
I'm going to check out Zox at Mohawk Place tomorrow night (Sunday). It's cheap (only $10) and as always, drinks are cheap at the 'Hawk, but I'm actually pretty pumped about the band.
Zox are one of those everything bands - they're unconventional, but eminently listenable. Seriously, come check it you.
