sportz

I just got this as I was walking out the Production Center: "Going to play tennis, guy?" I wish I was.

I CAN NOT BELIEVE IT. Today is the last Wednesday of the semester. Typically, I wear the powder blue, 1984 Los Angeles Olympics suit. Today, I forgot. And it's really too bad.

So, instead, which this is pretty cool, I'm going to give the links to all the other "blue suit" days.

And this picture, straight from '08. That was a long time ago. I guess.

Here's your linkz from oldest to newest (so funny to see how writing/personality/blog/humor style have evolved):

Dec 2008: http://emliv.blogspot.com/2008/12/1984.html
Dec 2009: http://emliv.blogspot.com/2009/12/azul.html
Dec 2010: http://emliv.blogspot.com/2010/12/iron-cally.html
May 2011: http://emliv.blogspot.com/2011/05/finale.html
Dec 2011: http://emliv.blogspot.com/2011/12/blues.html

This is pretty funny too. Sub 2008, probably 2007:

As you probably can tell, I've been messing with this media-type stuff for a while.


Speaking of messing with media-type stuff, I made this this week. And there's a story behind it:


So, on Sunday, I wanted to take a quick dip in the Tropicana pool because it was really warm and the pool was literally calling my name, like, I could hear it. I own a GoPro camera that is waterproof and I hadn't tested those waters, so I decided it was time. I grabbed, I went, I jumped. I dove into the pool and something went askew. It could have been because I was holding the camera, it could have been because I'm terrible at diving; whatever the reason, I dove in and hit the square top of my head on the bottom of the pool. Didn't feel good, didn't feel pleasant. Honestly, it hurt pretty bad. But here's the thing, the SECOND I hit my head, I thought to sophomore year at Royal High School. A good friend of all of us, Mr. Tyler Broberg, was at a family reunion, having fun in a pool. Somehow, he was knocked unconscious while sliding down the water slide, flying into the pool without a soul knowing what had happened within that slide. Tyler was trapped under the water for quite some time before being noticed, drowning to his death. Tyler was genuinely (and this still holds true) one of the nicest people I have EVER met, leaving a legacy that still lasts today. And his life was cut short. When I hit my head on the bottom of the pool, I immediately remembered the drowning, the events that followed, and every emotion of me, my friends, and the families surrounding this horrific accident.

So, the video that follows is an interesting one. It is an abstract representation the joy of the pool, my friend Tyler's death in the pool, the terror of the pool, and the emergence of hope through it all.





HEAVY.



On a lighter note, last Wednesday was a good one. My good friend, Mr. Kelii Miyata, tells me about a concert featuring contestants of the television show The Voice, one of which is my new friend Mr. Pip Andrews (this is when this blog is great: this is when we met: http://emliv.blogspot.com/2012/05/maze.html).  This is an event that couldn't be missed! So I headed out to beautiful Hermosa Beach with the lovely Ms. Jess Harrell to the famed Saint Rocke to watch all these fine folks play music. There was something so great about this little concert and that is: every person singing (I believe there were about 12 that switched off, did about 2 songs a piece and rotated around) was up there TO SING. They all KILLED the vocals. Everyone was so so so solid, the vocals were loud and clear, and it was in a word: excellent.  Not to mention the so so so so solid musicians who backed up the so so so solid singers. These guys could jam like I've never seen, spillin' chord progressions, changing keys on the fly, and GROOVING the whole way through. 3 top musicians: bassist that looked like Mr. Kelii Miyata in 20 years (like, spitting image), beast of a cajon player with gnarles barkley dreads, and the drummer who put his cymbals at full arm extension + drumstick away from his kit, the dude was flying. Such a great show, such great people, such a great night.  Good to see everyone again.

Side note: Kelii and I go back, way back. Here's a video of us surprising our 2009 gradating class with a little jam...







Friends, one of my favorite bands, mewithoutYou, has just released their new record title "Ten Stories."  A year ago May 14th, mewithoutYou played at Biola (which was absolutely 100% incredible) and a year later they release this incredible incredible album. I have listened to it a few times through and the blend of old and new mwY sounds, old and new mwY styles, is SPOT ON. They killed it on this record and it is quickly going to become a classic in the world of music. Below is one of the tracks called "Fox's Dream of the Log Flume," featuring Haley Williams of Paramore; it has rather quickly become my favorite song on the album, it's been stuck in my head for DAYZ. Enjoy:







And then this commercial is just great. So clever, humorous, brilliant. But does it sell product? I don't know. I probably wouldn't buy the purple squirts.







This has been a great post, haven't had one these in a while. I hope you enjoyed it all! Every part! Every video! Every story! I hope you just enjoy this blog in general. If you don't, sorry. I just write this thing because I always have. But the whole point of writing is to entertain you, Internet user. Without you, this would just be a lonely website on the wave of millions, but you, lovely reader, make it worth it.

So thanks.



Enjoy a glass of ice cold water. It's a warm one.

Consummation

It's November 9th and it's crazy. It's November 9th and it's wild. It's November 9th and it's warm. And it's great. Something struck me this week: I turn 21 years of age on Sunday, the 13th of November. For the last three hundred sixty some days, I knew this day was coming, it's only natural. For some reason though, it took a turn for the important this week. 21 just seems so old, so mature, so theres-no-more-milestones-left-except-for-driving-with-permit-drivers. Turning 18 is big; you can play the lottery, you can buy cigarettes, you can get arrested. Turning 21 adds one solitary thing to this mix and that is the cause of the 1920 US prohibition: alcohol. That may or may not be a big deal, depends on who you ask. I think perhaps the bigger deal is just the fact that I'm another year older, another year farther from the delightful year 1990.

Speaking of alcohol, I watched a great video this week about a guy who had an idea and acted on it. That concept in and of itself is absolutely INCREDIBLE. To develop ideas and see them through completion, phew, if you can master that, you will be unstoppable.

Made by Hand / No 1 The Distiller from Made by Hand on Vimeo.



Speaking of alcohol, I watched a great commercial this week about anti drunk-driving. This commercial's incredible in many many ways, including but not limited to the message, the accents, the editing, the music, the popularity on the interwebs. An anti drunk-driving ad that people are actually watching, enjoying, and sharing? Way to go NZ.







I've noticed something this week and it's embedded in this conversation:

"Hello!"
"Hi!"
"How are you?"
"Good! You?"
"Good!"
"Good! See you later!"
"Bye!"

Is there anything wrong with this conversation? Nope. Did you learn anything new about each other? Nope. I feel like this conversation happens hundreds of times a day between hundreds of people and it's to the point where it means absolutely nothing. Recently, I've been trying to be more honest in these conversations, responding to "how are you" with  realistic words/phrases like "alright," "hangin' in there," "been better," "livin' life," "fantastic," "never been better," "incredible," the list goes on and on. Now that I'm taking a look at this list, I guess all that is happening is I'm being somewhat creative in my adjective choices. Even answering "how are you" with a tad-bit-more-realistic words, the investment is still light. It's the follow-up questions such as "Oh, why are you just alright?" or "Wow! Fantastic, huh? How come?" that take the conversation into the next level. A relationship is budding, conversation is exploding. But what happens if you are just in passing and the original conversation is the only exchange possible? Is it worth having? I say "of course!". I guess. As I'm writing this, I'm realizing I have no real clue what I'm talking about. And I don't have an answer. I don't know whats right, wrong, proper, improper, worth it, wasteful.

I guess the moral of the story is simply this: Be intentional in conversations. Learn something new.


Here's an aside:

I was walking on campus today and a woman wearing high-heals was walking next to me. Now, I have never personally experienced the phenomenon of wearing high-heals, I simply have not chosen that type of footwear as my footwear of choice (that might have something to do with culture and gender roles). I guess I understand the point of high-heels and why girls like to wear them, choose to wear them. But as I walked next to this woman in high-heels, I noticed something: the CLACK CLACK CLACK of EVERY SINGLE step she took. The extremely loud rhythmic sound, coinciding with each and every step taken. How do high-heel wearers put up with this!? I guess this phenomenon is similar in any hard sole situation, but it really struck me. Is it annoying? Do you just tune it out? Baffling. Truly. I was amazed at how loud these high-heels were on normal concrete and I was honestly amazed at how I reacted. Probably an overreaction. Nevertheless, an object of note.

And I think that may just be it. That's the end of this week's edition of "It's Wednesday!" I hope you enjoyed it. Kinda scatter-brained, but hey, who isn't?


Take a look around you. What do you see? Anything you haven't picked up in a while? Maybe a magazine you only read half of or an pseudo-empty box of cheez-its that's been sitting around for a week. Revisit these items and enjoy them.


Be intentional this week. Live with importance and make every minute worth your 60 seconds. It's not easy. I fail miserably 90% of the time. That doesn't mean you have to.

This is your week.