30 for 30...

For a long time i was worries about turning the big 3-0.  Where did my 20s go?  It's been a fun 10 years... but i think that the next 10 will be even more fun.  Would i want to even be 20 again?  Not really... i'm over that.  It was fun.  It was crazy.  I'm ready for a little direction and stability.  Not saying my 30s won't be fun and crazy.  Just at a higher level of existence.  The adventures will get better.  The gnar will be taken to the gnarth power... gnar to the gnar. 

At dinner with my parents i was mistaken for someone in high school.  I'd say that's a pretty good start to being 30.  The baby face that plagued me in high school now is a good problem to have.  And as my uncle put it... any year you have a birthday is a good one.  And hope for another the next year.  And this coming from a guy in his late 60s going on his late 20s.  A kid at heart... and always has been.  An adult.  A goofball.  And totally awesome.  So now come my 30s... bring it!  GNAR!

Thanks to everyone that made the weekend amaizing! 

PS- rule 1: for every article of neon clothing you wear... subtract 1 year.  I think i'll be a teenager for quite some time...

oh the possibilities...

It's amazing the difference a day makes. A week. A month. The seasons change and so do we. Things that once seemed like dreams now become reality. Far off lands become a little closer. Reality starts to settle in.

Yesterday i left whiteout conditions and soon i'll be in almost summer-like weather. I probably didn't need to pack a sweater. I did pack boardshorts though... never leave home without 'em! So excited to see the wee ones, if only for a brief moment. They may enjoy the time we spend playing together, but they'll never realize what it really means to me. I wonder if my aunts and uncles felt this way. The reality is the girls won't remember a thing but perhaps the feeling. Memories of childhood can be fuzzy but the feelings associated are crystal clear. I plan on making theirs ahhhsome.

Oh the changes they've made in all our lives. Just when you think you know everything, a 2yo comes along and shows you purity. She already knows what gnar is. Unreal. I wonder what they'll teach me next...

let the fun begin...

Finally the time has come for a new beginning.  Gone are the days of yore.  Ahead are the days to explore.  The time has come to see what the world has to offer.  To see new places and experience new things.  You can't help but be giddy and apprehensive all at the same time.  It is the unknown.  But even then there is a sense of security in knowing that fate has your back.  Soon enough life will begin to fall into place...

t-minus 1 day...

This era is almost over.  Starting tomorrow i leave behind this chapter and start a new one.  Just the thought of that makes me so excited.  After years of trudging through the muck it is time to set myself free.  No more holding back.  No more pondering.  Now is the time to act and move forward.  I can't wait to start... the gnar lies ahead of me!

the snowman cometh...

The smell is in the air.  Ok, maybe not the air back here in michigan, ok, maybe a little here too.  While i can't see it, i can smell it.  The smell of snow.  The crisp air.  The hair in your nostrils freezing.  The senses come rushing back.  You think you smell it around every corner.  Wait, there it is.  You can hear the sound of snow crunching under your feet as you walk down a sidewalk in 50deg weather.  The chill of the wind has a warming effect on your heart.  For we long to be out in the cold bringing the heat.  While our bodies lie firmly in the city, our minds and hearts have already left for the mountains.  We long for that time, that date when they come back together again.  Gnar!

marginally thrilled...

I think there is something about the 80s that is absolutely ridiculous.  The neon.  The fashions.  The piano-key necktie.  The mullets.  I was born.  All ridiculous in their own ways.  And perhaps my perspective is that of a reactionary child glossing over the good memories of childhood but just thinking about the 80s makes me smile.  I love it.  Especially the ski fashions...

Love it, or hate it, the 80s were a reaction to the doldrums of the 70s.  We we're finally out of war.  It makes me wonder what reaction the US will have once these wars in Iraq and Afghanistan are finally over.  Will we rage again?  Will we get nutty?  Or will we just keep being ourselves?  Maybe this time we'll have the MP3 necktie.

You have to admit that the ski industry is in it's own little world when it comes to fashion.  It consists of a bunch of people with a singular focus: to make turns.  Whether that person be a ski bum making just enough money to support a lifestyle that allows constant trips up the chairlift or an investment banker getting away from his high stress job for a long weekend at his ski chalet, we all have this illness.  We're all stricken with the search for gnar.  The search for happiness.  Our fashions are a reaction to our state of mind.  In happier times we wear brighter colors.  When we're sad we wear darker colors.  I propose a new standard of living: be awesome instead.  When you're happy wear bright colors.  When you're sad, wear bright colors to make yourself smile and in turn be happy.  In the famous words of Barney Stinson, 'when i get sad, i stop being sad and be awesome instead.  True story.'

timing...

Time has always been something of a mystery to me.  Time is a relative thing and not a constant.  Einstein theorized this in his Theory of Relativity.  t basically means that time is different for everyone depending on the speed at which that person is moving.  I am positive that going to the University of Michigan was a perfect fit for me.  Everything was 10min behind schedule.  A 1000am class started at 1010am.  Not exactly the kind of mental training that professionals would say was 'setting ourselves up for success'.  You can always tell a Michigan person by their being 10min late for everything.  Call it fashionably late.  Call it relativity.  It is like we live in our own time zones.  Just 10min removed from the rest of reality.

I have always been just in time for everything.  School, jobs, you name it.  I had a boss once tell me, 15min early is on time, on time is too late.  So i guess in that sense i have always been a bit late arriving to everything.  My grandpa on the other hand was always a half hour early for everything.  I feel like my life has been punctuated by moments where i was always the last one there.  But i suppose the bright side of that is that i got there on my own.  No one was there to push me.  I didn't start snowboarding or soccer until middle school.  I pushed myself to do it.  No one else.  I didn't really date someone until college because there just wasn't anyone that captivated my mind.  Again, all in my own time, no one else.  My 20s were pretty much the same way.  I took my time in college, partially due to my vast array of interests and partially due to getting sick.  But it was on my own time.  And now i leave for the greatest adventure of my life, some may say a bit late, but i think it had to come now, and no other time. 

Time has always meant something different to me.  There are places where time just seems to stop.  Places where time can't go fast enough.  Places where you wish time could reverse itself.  A unique phenomenon happens with me, and i'm not sure if it does for others too.  I was born Nov 21st.  11/21.  My favorite numbers are 21 and 11.  And somehow, someway, i always seem to glance at a clock when it reads 11:21.  Perhaps just one of my many eccentricities...

But i think the famous words of Bill S Preston, esquire, and Ted "Theodore" Logan say it best.  The best place to be is here, the best time to be is now, and all I can say is 'Lets Rock!'

o... d... g... nsfw...

 

Wow... some things should just not be done.  Lil John should not have done this.  In fact i'm impressed if he actually ever watched the show.  Maybe then his vocabulary would have expanded beyond 'yeah' and 'ok'.  But he did it.  And his vocabulary is sorely lacking.  It is however filled with colorful made-up words.  But somehow, someway, i see this becoming a hit song...

On the other hand... this is one girl who added a little spice to Sesame Street.

foo, gloria foo!

 

In today's paper i saw an article about one of the local high schools putting on the production of Dracula.  Complete with flying wire harnesses.  How awesome is that?  In high school i worked the set crew for the musicals.  Yeah, i could sing too.  But i had WAY more fun building the sets.  My best friend from HS, Frank, and i built all the sets for both productions every year.  Give a man a fish and he can eat for a day.  Give a 16yo power tools and he'll build you a new theater.  I'm sure that my first set design for our production of Oliver is still around almost 15 years later.  Those things were bomb-proof!  I designed a set that could break apart into separate pieces depending on the needs of each scene.  Each scene used these 4x4 boxes in some manner.  They had to be able to be danced and stomped on.  They had to be able to get inside of them.  And in the final scene, they all came together to construct the London Bridge.  I was so proud of building them.  And even more proud when the director chose to save them rather than strike them at the end of the production.  They continued to be used for years.  Those in conjunction with Frank's rotating stage, at least in our minds, made the play.  We became the set crew at our school.  But this team almost never happened.  And it's all because of snowboarding that it came to pass.

My sophomore year i wanted to get a new snowboard.  I had a board that was 2 years old, but it was holding me back.  I tried to get one the year before but to no avail.  This year i had the money in hand and the determination to get the board i wanted, no matter what.  My mom finally caved.  But with one caveat: i had to do something new for the winter.  So she suggested that i go down and talk to my favorite teacher ever (read: most hated teacher in HS) and join the set crew.  I hated Mrs Frillici.  I had had her in my freshman honors classes and she was a tough witch.  But i wanted a snowboard more.  Amazing how a teacher can be one person in the classroom and a complete other person outside.  To this day, she is one of the most amazing teachers i've ever had.  An enlightenment brought on by a desire to snowboard.  So i joined the the crew that year.  

Had i not joined the crew i never would have met Frank.  Sure, i had known who he was.  That one guy in school with an air about him that transcended age.  He was older, yes, but he was that guy that commanded the room by simply being in it.  We butted heads at first, oh yeah.  But what we soon realized was that our designs and concepts were light-years beyond what had been tried before.  That was our bond.  Yes, the butting of heads would continue from time to time.  I may have tried hitting him with a shovel once, i don't recall, but i'm sure he deserved it.  (Sorry about that, Frank)  To this day, although we lead completely separate lives we can pick up right where we left off without missing a beat.  He's a true friend.  And all because of snowboarding.  And my mom being a hardass on me.  Thanks mom, you helped create this monster that is GNAR.  For that, and so many other things, i am indebted to you. 

skittle thug!

One of the greatest things about snowsports is the individuality.  Be it skiing or snowboarding, you choose your own way.  No one can hold your hand down the mountain.  When and where you make a turn is all up to you.  It's the simpliest form of reality.  You make a choice.  You deal with the outcome.  I choose to snowboard.  I choose to wear bright colors.  I choose to be ahhhsome.

I was reminded yesterday, after completing the order for the next round of GNAR shirts, of the word 'skittle thug'.  Urban Dictionary defined if as that guy wearing bright colors while spinning a 720 over your head and stomping it.  Gone are the days of grunge, when i started snowboarding.  Gone are the days of snowboarders looking like they just attended a funeral.  (we save that for the skiers... black-on-black?  how original, you tools)  Something about ski fashion has always gone a little overboard.  The 80s had it right.  The 90s were a reaction to the over-awesomeness of the 80s.  Now it's all coming back full circle.  Neon is in!  Long live the skittle thug!

Individuality permeates the sport.  Yes, you can choose to dress black-on-black.  Or you can be every shade of neon.  Or somewhere in between.  Just rock what you got... with pride.  That thought process can go for so many things in our lives.  We are given a set hand.  We can shuffle a few cards back in the deck and draw a few more, but in the end, your hand is your hand.  I was given horrible eyesight.  My other senses took over.  I've never been big enough.  Perfect, skiing works better the smaller you are.  My board isn't brand new.  As long as you're confident on what you have, that's really all that matters.  As long as you're confident in who you are... that's really all that matters.  I'm a nErd.  I'm a dokr.  I'm a gEek.  I'm smart.  I'm a dumbass.  I can recall random information.  I can't remember your name.  But i am who i am.  I look at the world in ways that would astound you.  Or maybe in ways that would bore you.  But i see my own line.  I see where i want to make my next turn.  My next turn may take me over a cliff or through a glade of trees.  I'm fine with both.  I'm fine with being me. 

This picture was taken at the end of my trip to Breck last year.  After hiking the peak we rode the ridge, ducking the OB markers in search of a few more turns in untracked snow.  I can see my line.  And it makes me smile.  It was my choice.  It's one of those lines carved permanently in my soul.

neon...

Continuing with the musical theme... this song came on pandora this morning.  Following shortly after some Jack it got me thinking again about how important music and musical memories are to me.  Growing up i used to sing all the time while playing with my legos.  My parents love to tell the story of one time in church when i decided to keep the Hallelujah chorus going for a few more bars than the rest of the congregation.  Father Tom simply smiled and waited for me to finish before continuing with the mass.  My sisters took piano lessons at the catholic school we attended from one of the nuns there, Sister Carolyn.  She retired however by the time i came of that age.  I never got piano lessons.  But that didn't stop me from singing to myself.

We had music classes throughout elementary.  One teacher, Dan Hall, got me interested in the sounds that could come from a guitar, especially his 12-string.  But alas nothing ever became of that.  In 4th grade we did a musical sing-a-long/skit to 'Leader of the Pack'.  I got to ride the big wheel and had an awesome crash scene.

In middle school, a public one, filled with all the crazies, i got exposed to all sorts of music that i'd never heard before.  Music classes were relatively lame and it seemed like to 'cool' thing to make fun of them and anyone in the band.  At that point i was looking for anything that made me look less lame and took the attention away from my taped glasses and headgear.  N. E. R. D. (with a double capital E)  But that was also when i got introduced to Rock as i know it.  It began with Guns'n'Roses and 'Use Your Illusion (I & II)'... mostly because of the parental advisories.  Anything worth listening to had to have one.  In 7th grade, Matt Leach's dad would pick us up from soccer practice and we'd all pile into his pickup.  He always listened to one station... Banana 101.7!  That station was my baptism to ROCK.  That was my station of choice all throughout high school.  Before the advent of cd burners and mp3s that station was the soundtrack of my life.  Even to this day, anytime i'm passing through Flint, that's the station i listen to... and it takes me back.

Attending a catholic school again in high school, i had to take religion classes.  Junior year we could join the choir to fulfill that obligation... but we had to go in, one-on-one with the director, and get voice tested into our sections.  My mom spent that summer convinced that i was just doing choir to get out of religion class (like everyone else).  But i still liked to sing.  The day came that i had to get tested.  I was really nervous.   But instead of the strange look i expected from Mr K. for not knowing how to sing all i saw was a smile.  He asked to repeat a few notes.  The notes became more and more complicated but i could hear them and repeat them.  Then he asked if i knew what Schola Cantorum was.  No idea.  It was the special 16-person choir within the choir that led the choir at masses and also did special concerts elsewhere, especially at christmas time.  He asked me to try out.  And i made it.  I guess i could really sing after all.  Couldn't read music to save my life, but i could listen, memorize, and repeat.  The same thing i'd always done listening to music my entire life.  And it was fun!

In college i joined the Michigan Men's Glee Club.  Again, i had to try out, but i made it.  I moved from singing bass in HS to singing the baritone range in college.  By now i could follow music but still not really read it.  My memory and ear served me well.  And the camaraderie was amazing.  From the the twins harassing me with 'hey, ricky martin, shake your bon bons!' at my first practice to being taken under Grandpa's wing and introduced to scotch and how to drive in A2 (not at the same time though)... i loved it.  And of course we had Dr Blackstone directing.  It hasn't felt like the same club without him.  When i got back from Germany i just didn't see the point in rejoining... perhaps one of my many mistakes in college.  But i still have that black tux with the coattails... :)

Today, after living in, and visiting more countries than i can count (not a whole lot of Rock in Turkey...) rock still defines my life.  While i still enjoy a screaming ballad of Axel Rose i've branched out into both the roots of rock and those that have followed that epic era of 80s rock.  The summer i came back from Germany some friends introduced me to Jack and John.  I had unwittingly been listening to Jack for a while, but together their music just seemed to fit my life at that particular moment.  One song especially struck me 'Your Body Is A Wonderland'... from the guitar to the words... it was like a dream, a goal, something to strive towards.  But alas, that's all that song was... a dream.  I never found anyone to share that song with.  Still hope for the future i suppose.

Jack and John helped define feelings i had coursing through my veins.  They defined the place where my heart was.  Every time i heard them they took me back to the lake... the one place in the world where everything was always right.  My place of serenity.  I spent a majority of my 20s dating someone that never understood their music or their impact on me.  'It all sounds the same,' was the response i got from day 1 until the day when we parted ways.  I suppose in that way she never got me.  Never really got who i was inside...

excitement...

I'm just on a roll with songs lately... but really, our lives revolve around them.  A song can spark our brains like nothing else.   A song takes us back in time to a memory, a smell, a feeling.  Songs write a soundtrack to our life.  Some make us smile.  Some make us laugh.  Some make us excited.  Some make us cry.  They all make us feel.

This song was one that was suggested by a friend.  For whatever reason, when i first listened to the album i put it aside, stuck in my musical ways perhaps.  I wasn't ready for it.  Later i revisited those songs again and they just struck a chord.  Not sure why i was so blind before.  Unexplainable really.  But now is now.  And then was then.  And i love this band.  The music is ridiculously happy and upbeat.  It's something i can listen to while jogging, driving, or while out on the mountain.  And this song above the others just hits me.  The play on words notwithstanding... i dig it.  ONSs are all about the excitement... but that excitement wanes when morning breaks.  WoS and a PLD perhaps.  But the name of the song, 'One Life Stand' reminds me of that excitement but in the sense of forever.  And that makes me smile.  Adventures forever...

better than sunshine...

This is one of those songs that always gets me.  Makes the hair stand up on the back of my neck.  It's one of those songs that you can identify from the first chord.  Because that first chord is your heartstring being plucked.  Certain songs seem to call to you... this is one that calls to me.  It transports me.  Maybe to a former time when it played like the soundtrack of my life.  Or perhaps to a place where i want to hear it again and define a few certain times yet to come.  It makes me smile.  It makes me hopeful.  It makes me feel my soul shine. 

There are plenty of remakes of this song but none quite has the same feeling as that of the Allman's guitars.  Gregg Allman is ranked the 2nd best guitarist to ever play, right behind a fuzzy haired man named Jimmy. Through this song you can hear his soul shine...

snow daze

Our first week out in Vail will be EPIC.  Vail holds their annual Snow Daze to ring in the new season!  Totally STOKED to be able to shred some gnar and experience a new place.  It's gonna be totally LEGIT!  Headlined by Mix Master Mike, Dwight Yoakam, O.A.R., and finally, a band that has permeated much of my adolescent and adult life for reasons that escape reason (unless you're a waterskier)... Weezer!  Can.  Not.  Wait.

hippotamuseses

The beginning of the christmas season for me is not the proliferation of christmas decorations in the stores the day after Halloween.  It's not Black Friday shopping deals.  Not even the first snow.  For me it's when WNIC in Detroit switches from its easy listening (snooooooooze) format to 24/7 christmas music.  You can't help but smile every time you happen upon it.  It just seems to take me back to those anxious nights waiting for Santa to come.  The snow forts and snowball fights.  The ice skating and hot chocolate. And when you hear them you know the gnar can't be far behind.  And every year i wait for this song to be played... by far the most ridiculous christmas song of them all... hippotamuseses!

the eyes have it!

Yesterday i bore witness to the schism.  That day that comes around every year where people make one of two choices: to embrace the coming winter or to hide from it. 

Exhibit A: the Mo Ho.

This motor home has seen more stories that cannot be repeated, either for lack words to describe it, or lack of memory.  While this monstrosity may run on gasoline it is fueled by beer, booze, and good times.  It has seen summertime block parties and IceMan Cometh frozen tailgates and everything in between.  It has been left at bars and caught on fire.  I've been on this bus countless times (countless because i'm not sure i want to admit to being in its presence but can't deny the fun that it brings) and every time it is around it makes an indelible mark on each person who boards her.  Yes, some of my belongings have been lost to her in the name of good, clean fun.  Not sure i'd want them back after that anyway.  Someone claimed they put a lot of money into it this year.  Yeah, i can tell (sarcastic font).  Good point... the sound system i guess.  But through it all this trooper on wheels brings the fun. Like the USPS but all about fun.  Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays this courier from the swift completion of its appointed rounds.

Exhibit B: the eyes

All the people in this picture have it.  While some eyes may be glassier than others, they've all got that glint of excitement in them.  While we all look at the summer with fondness we embrace the shortening of the days and the coming of cold nights.  This is the glint of GNAR.  While the IceMan Cometh mountain bike race may be the kickoff to the winter season, it takes a different kind of person to come out and celebrate not only the mud soaked riders but the season where koozies now keep your hands warm instead of your beverage cold.  Talk ranges from football games, to family, to upcoming marriages, to whiskey, to the impending snow, frozen sports, and frozen toes.  Note: if you invite a girl from Orlando you should also prepare her for the weather by: A. getting her warm socks, gloves, etc or B. getting her lots of drinks.  To do any less is bad form.  She definitely did not have the glint of GNAR in her eye.  Just perhaps the glint of disdain screaming 'get me back to 90deg weather!'

Look around next time you are out and about and see the eyes.  They either have it.  Or they don't.  The winter is coming.  And the eyes have it...

down the lonely road...

I heard this song yesterday and it took me back.  Funny how songs that defined part of your childhood can come back into your life and mean so much... even 20 years later.  When i was a little kid i used to sing this in the car.  I'd beg my mom to turn it up.  If it came on as we were parking i'd want to stay in the car until it finished.  Why did i like this song so much?  No idea.  I could sing every word but understood none of them.  Today the song reminds me of those good times singing along to the radio (but seriously... who listens to a radio anymore?).  It also reminds me of this point in my life.  I'm leaving.

The lyrics seem to cut me down to my soul.  I don't know where i'm going, but i sure know where i've been.  I feel i've been spinning my wheels for so long now that i don't know which direction is which.  But it's time to make some hard decisions and move forward.  And i've made up my mind, i ain't wasting no more time.  Here i go again on my own...

the beginning of the end

And so it begins.  And so it ends.  It's just under a month until i make the biggest decision of my life.  The wheels are turning.  Momentum is gaining.  I am leaving. 

The first item on my list is crossed off.  My skis are sold.  Who sells their skis before moving to CO?  A snowboarder.  A superfluous memory of my time as a ski instructor.  I only bought them because in order to be a snowboard instructor i also had to teach skiing.  Something that started out as fun with a friend soon jettisoned that friend.  He wanted the money.  I wanted the gnar.  By the end of that season, as my skillz improved exponentially, my interest in the industry waned equally.  I was on the wrong side of the lift line.  But as a learning experience it was unforgettable.  I learned a lot about myself and those around me.  I went back to school.

Now with school done and yet another hope and dream dashed i set out on a new adventure.  I am not getting any younger.  And around here i find myself not getting any smarter, the inverse even.  So it is time for a new beginning.  Cast off the remnants of old shattered dreams and go forth in search of new ones.  The unknown is a scary thought.  But so is untracked powder.  Every turn has the potentiality to unleash an avalanche.  Every turn also has the potential for immeasurable joy.  So now i take that chance...

last days of fall

Today was one of the last nice days of the fall.  What began as rain gave way to sunshine and blue skies.  A solitary run up the dunes found an unexpected siting of what i can only describe as gnar.  A girl doing snow angels in the sand... sand angels if you will.  She looked so happy and peaceful there lying on the sand staring up at the blue sky.  And suddenly her arms and legs started flailing about in a motion reserved for winter time.  As i kept running up over the brink i looked back to see her begin her descent.  She rolled.  As i came back down the dunes i saw her by her car attempting to shake the sand from her body, an impossible task.  But the grin was undeniable.  On the face of that dune, with only her tracks and mine disrupting the pristine, wind blown surface, she had found gnar.

open season

Sometimes i scare myself.  Halloween was one of those days.  Huge fan of ironic costumes.  6'7 oompa loompa?  Check.  Magnum PI/Justin Bieber the later years?  Check.  Waterskier?  Huh?  I'm wearing a life jacket.  I thought you were Marty McFly...

After spending my collegiate waterski career dressing up like it was Halloween every tournament weekend (and again for Winter Conferences) i thought it'd be funny to dress up like a waterskier for actual Halloween.  Alas, the general population just does not quite get what it means to be a waterskier.  Not that that really matters.  So after a night of strange looks in Iowa City i found an inner glow about myself.  Well, more accurately, there wasn't much about me that wasn't glowing... so my insides must have been receiving some of the neon radiation going on.  It.  Was.  Ridiculous.

The weekend started off with a wintervention.  While it saddens me that Warren Miller is no longer associated with the films released under his name, they nonetheless do him honor.  Where they lack his melodic vocal overtures painting the story, they make up for it with ahhhmaizing cinematography and some semblance of a plot.  But words fail where feelings take over.  In fact they are not even needed.  A knowing glance to those next to you convey what words never can: gnar!

So with just under a month until the start of the gnar season, a Halloween trip to Iowa City was a nice change.  After discussing what to do with my car in the mountains, Bambi decided to make my decision for me and take out the entire left side of the car.  Oops.  Sh*t happens.  Now i'm just waiting on the determination of if she ever makes it out of Iowa.  I cleaned her out and said my goodbyes.  Anytime you put that much wrench time into a machine you kind of get attached.  Tear.  Now the waiting game.

Aside from the less-than-stellar beginning of the weekend the rest was ahhhsome.  Watching my second-least favorite team lose, dressing up like an idiot, seeing old friends, making a few new ones (neon has that effect)... it was a good time.  And to cap it all, a bop session around Chicago, a smiling face, and a new ride.  God i love the midwest.  No matter where in in the world i've ever been or ever will be, my heart has and will always be here.