Life

Blog posts chronicling my continuing adventures. Sometimes I like to write about what’s going on in my life.

Turning 27

Writing an essay on my birthday has become a tradition. Here are links to my past birthday posts: 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, and 26.

I turn 27 today. My dad says he always feels older on the odd number birthdays. I’m not sure I get that vibe. I will say it’s strange to think I’m entering my late twenties. I think I’ve reached the age when well-meaning individuals feel well within their right to question why I haven’t done this or that with my life yet. I’m not looking forward to those conversations.

My nonsensical cynicism aside, I can honestly say I’m excited about the coming year. And I think what surprises me the most is that my excitement doesn’t have to do with some big milestone or event that’s on the horizon. In fact, I thought I’d be traveling overseas again this summer, but the trip I planned to go on was called off. In a way it makes my outlook on the coming year even more unexpected.

I’m excited because, for the first time in a long time, I have a strong sense that I’m a part of real community. In the birthday essay I wrote a year ago I talked about how much I wanted to live a great story with my life, to strive for great things even in the face of adversity, and I still want that. But as I reread that essay I notice a sad lack of emphasis on the people who would live that great story with me. I don’t want to have a bunch of great adventures with an ever-changing sea of extras or, worse yet, with no one else at all. I want great costars in my story.

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When Bryan Attacks

Check out Bryan Zhang’s cinematography reel and more of his professional video production work on his Vimeo account.

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You might say Bryan and I have a love/hate relationship.

Blue Like Mug

Blue Like Jazz The Movie Mug

Check out the new addition to my desk. It was a thank-you gift.

Who would have thought I’d blog about coffee mugs twice in the span of seven weeks?

UPDATE: Here’s the movie trailer.

A Mug for No-Shave November

Watch on YouTube: A Mug for No-Shave November

Incidentally, my friend Sammi has a much different perspective on No-Shave November.

No-Shave November = No Date November.
@SammiFeliciani
Sammi Feliciani

Tell Me a Story, Lauren

Two of my favorite people. Plus me, my iPhone, and this video. Technology is fun.

I really wish I’d taken this video in landscape. I tried to edit it in iMovie, but when I cropped it you totally lose the subtle reaction Zack (@Sandpapery) gives to Lauren’s response to his question, which is classic.

Acoustic Meow

Watch on YouTube: Acoustic Meow

This is my friend Rob. You are witnessing the next big thing in pop music.

Here’s a fair representation of the type person with whom I choose to spend my free time. Such people invariably inspire my creative process. I find it ironic that if I inspire you, dear reader and viewer, with something I create somewhere down the line, you owe your thanks to moments like this one.

Missed It By That Much

I almost ended a streak of DiMaggian proportion. Because of me, my former roommate nearly owned a cell phone for the very first time.

Alas, I fell short.

Just a couple weeks ago, sage blogger John Saddington ran a contest on the website ChurchMag in which he gave away his old iPhone 3GS. He had just bought the new iPhone 4 and decided against selling his old phone in favor of doing something more fun.

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Not Your Average Balloon Animals

Never before have I considered the skill of creating balloon animals to be an art, but I think I do now.

Two days ago I went out to breakfast with some friends. As we were eating we noticed a little kid on the other side of the room playing with a balloon animal. It was a fishing pole and line with a fish on the end of the line. It looked really complex. My friends Rob and Clint wanted their own balloon creations, so they asked our waitress if she’d steer the person making them over to our table.

Check out these works of art.

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Turning 26

Writing a post about my birthday on my birthday has become a tradition. Here are links to my past birthday posts: 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, and 25.

I don’t think anyone ever imagines himself or herself being twenty-six years old. It’s not much of a birthday. I’ve been told starting when you turn twenty-five the only birthdays that matter are the ones divisible by five. I can see that being true. It’s sad to think that eight out of ten birthdays will lack a sense of grandeur from now on. Also, being twenty-five seemed a lot cooler than being twenty-four, and so far twenty-five seems a lot cooler than twenty-six as well. It’s nothing more than additional age. A year ago I still felt closer to twenty than thirty. That’s no longer true. To be fair, I don’t have any idea what it feels like to be thirty, so even saying it like that is a bit screwy. What I do know is I no longer feel a strong association with the collegiate version of myself. Furthermore, I don’t miss that guy. If given the choice, I wouldn’t go back. I have no desire to trade down.

The tone of the birthday essay I wrote a year ago is one of extreme optimism and triumph. I went back and read it today before I began writing this essay. I had keyed in on the desire to live life with purpose. I was asking myself if I was willing to rearrange my life in order to grab hold of what I wanted the most. I had formed a plan, and it was a good one. I knew what I wanted and I knew what I had to do to get it. Today I see a couple things in my hopes of a year ago that I didn’t see back then.

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This past Saturday my roommates and I hosted an event at our home known as Big Breakfast. It was a throwback to an event held when I was a college student, but we wanted to put our own stamp on it. So we added something that had never been done before. We created the very first Big Breakfast menu.

To tell you the truth, the menu was initially a big part of why Big Breakfast was resurrected. One Sunday evening my roommate Joe and I were casually tossing around the idea of hosting a Big Breakfast when one of us suggested the idea of creating a menu, complete with items named in honor of our friends. For the next hour or so we sat in our kitchen devising some of the worst puns you’ve ever heard, occasionally inventing something we wouldn’t be ashamed to admit we’d created. My roommate Aaron came home that evening and, upon finding Joe and I in stitches, added in a couple winners of his own. Later on I included my friend Zack in the madness. For a couple days I received these odd text messages from him while I was at work, each with one or two new suggestions.

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