Keep The Painted Side Up

Let's just get this out in the open. I drive like a bat out of hell. It's not something I'm proud of. Frankly, my admission is not unlike an AA confession. Some kind of professional help is needed.

Driving, to me, is a sport. I'm a believer in a rear-wheel drive, manual transmission automobile with enough power to get you both in and out of trouble in a hurry. The problem is I'm not on the Autobahn in Germany, where everyone knows how to drive. It's as simple as this... slow drivers to the right, passing to the left. Every time I see a driver in the U.S. applying this simple principle, it's like a breath of fresh spring air. I bask in it. I even give the thank you wave as I pass. It's just a beautiful thing. The other 99.35% of the time, I am trying to "thread the needle" at speeds clearly not posted. I find myself regularly driving 20 to 30 miles over the speed limit in certain areas (not school zones. I'm not a monster.). To and from work, I am attempting land speed records.

I have not yet fully accepted the fact that I must exist in a country where people don't really know how to drive well. Not to offend my fellow Americans, but people are oblivious here. They change lanes without looking (or signaling). They text message and do their hair. They create their own traffic laws and turn right from the left lane. Plus, they have zero spatial perception and judgment. Every day, I see someone in a compact car in the left lane, slam on their brakes when a bus starts moving next to them in the right lane. Sure, the bus is going to crush you and you have four feet of room to your right. Please. You'll cause more accidents by doing that than you will by simply maintaining speed, keeping some distance on you right and driving past the bus. Oh yeah, get off of your iPhone.

Granted, I consider myself a very good driver. I have never been in an accident, and I've attended numerous performance driving schools and clinics to develop safe driving skills under high speed and emergency situations. I even trained in high speed situations during my training with the CIA. I can legitimize my penchant for speed all day long.

But that's really not my point. I have to accept the fact that no amount of swerving and dodging will get me to my intended location that much faster and that even though I haven't gotten in an accident, I still could cause one by scaring someone who doesn't know a camshaft from a camcorder. Okay, so it's a lot of fun for me to drive at 9/10ths and I like to keep my skills up by pretending the two Priuses, the Saturn and the Buick land barge in front of me are slalom cones. Plus, I look forward to driving my car every day. But what I must do starting this year is to start driving like a I'm a fat, sedated water buffalo--with no particular place to be at any particular time. When I drive, I need to drop my blood pressure, prepare for the fact that I may soon have little tykes in the back seat of my beloved sports coupe and wipe a tear from my eye as 2011 will mark the year that I stopped paying homage to Michael Schumacher by driving with an undisputed lack of gusto.

Resolution #3: I will drive at, or close to, the speed limit on a daily basis, unless I am A) driving my pregnant wife to the hospital (when she's actually pregnant); B) trying to catch up to a Ferrari on Lake Shore Drive; or C) late for dinner.

It Just Feels So Write

I've always wanted to write, I just never really knew it. I think I spent most of my younger years plagued by the focus on getting good grades, which as you know, is passed down genetically through Korean families. I've also always been incredibly wordy. Ask all my college professors, who would issue good grades on my papers but always managed to pen a comment in red, along the lines of, "Your writing is rather vigorous," as if I'd just written a full-length paper on naked wrestling. In my adult life, I've been the kind of oddball who really looks forward to writing holiday cards for friends, typically throwing down a few paragraphs in very small handwriting, so as to fit in all my thoughts on a $2.99 Hallmark card (blank, with no cheery phrase printed inside. "I'm the writer, dammit!").

Well, I never really took any of my writing very seriously. Then, during my single adult years, I actually penned off a few paragraphs on some dating websites, describing my rather boring self in the profile section. Needless to say, I was excited to receive a number of responses from eligible females who had zero interest me as a prospective mate but who wanted to encourage me to be a writer. Kind comments like, "I have absolutely no romantic interest in you, but I wanted to let you know that you are a very good writer. You should think about pursuing it as a career." I was brought down and lifted up in one fell swoop. After about 20 of these responses (and maybe 1 or 2 women who might have actually been mildly interested), I gave writing more serious thought. But then I got really distracted by the release of the XBOX gaming system. Clearly, I was not the most focused individual. I dabbled in a few endeavors, like starting a novel and researching careers in writing, but nothing ever stuck.

As a newly married man, my wise wife encouraged me to take up writing again. In 2010, I was fortunate enough to come across a website called "Gear Patrol." http://www.gearpatrol.com. It was happenstance, as I came across the link searching for a gift for a friend. Since I'm not nearly as web savvy as Gen-Y'ers, this type of website was new to me. Who would've thought that in this oh-so materialistic culture, there'd be a website that would review the gamut of men's products? In any case, I found that they accepted reader submissions. I thought I'd try my hand and it and submitted a quick piece on some small batch shaving cream made in the U.S. Well, they accepted it, and I kept submitting as a guest writer. A few months later, they announced a Contributor Trial, interviewing for unpaid writers (I found out the "unpaid" part later). After a two month trial period, where candidates were asked to submit two articles per week, I made the cut. Out of almost 300 candidates, 10 were selected, so I was obviously thrilled. Plus, it was my wonderful wife who continually pushed my lazy butt to do what I love most.

Now, after several months with Gear Patrol, I've written nearly 30 pieces, with more on the way. I've been able to connect with the founders of the site and make plans for more variety and greater depth in the writing. Through GP, I've been able to test drive a car, acquire products to review for my two-week trip to Vietnam, and make connections I never would have before. It's a very good start and I'm able to beef up my creds. My next foray into writing will be to see if I can actually generate a meager income. Isn't this par for the course for those pursuing their passions? Meaning, don't you often find that those with a goal to do what they truly want to do actually get excited like a toddler on Christmas morning, hoping to make a pittance in their field of pursuit, as opposed to not caring about getting a substantial raise in a career they hate. "Gee, I can make $.03 per word! I'm so excited!"

Resolution #2:  I will finish writing a first draft of my novel by December 31, 2011 and I will increase my exposure through various other writing projects by searching for a new writing job every month. 

Facebook Is For Amateurs

My brother once (and only once) wisely said, "Friendships define your life. You keep the ones you want to keep." And then he may have belched and fallen asleep. In any case, I believe he was as right as rain. We've had long discussions about how our family was never very good at keeping friendships. Life got busy, our parents were constantly either working or tired, so we didn't see them connect with many people when we were kids. Sadly, we inherited that trait into early adulthood. We moved from job to job, started new friendships and watched many of them fall by the wayside. It never really bothered us much, not until recently.

I look back at my parents' lives and wonder how so much of things that went wrong could've been different had they been surrounded with solid friendships. Troubles are shared, as is joy. You bounce ideas off one another. You do a very healthy thing on a regular basis... you laugh out loud. These are not things to view lightly. I've been better in 2010 than in previous years with my guy friends. I call them on their birthdays. I send gifts that have meaning. I write manly thank you cards with photos of vintage race cars on them. But I can be better.

Granted, we have all had our friends that fit into certain categories. I'll use cartoon characters to "illustrate" the point. One of my best friends, a staid and completely reliable friend, a true man of honor who can also crush you with his bare hands, I'll call "Captain America." He's the one you call when you're in trouble. Another friend can be very entertaining to have around at a party but tends to emote too much and call you when his diaper needs changing. Him, I'll refer to as "Baby Huey." You get the idea. What I'm trying to communicate is that friends take all forms. Regardless, a man must choose to be close to his friends, not just over a football game and an econo-sized bag of Fritos but throughout life. It takes contact, phone calls, connecting over a good scotch and a cigar, a good banter over a game of golf and, yes, showing up to births, funerals and all the important things in between. You can work your a$$ off at your job, but that doesn't speak volumes for your character when it's time for you to say goodbye to this earth.

Your friends define you.

Resolution #1:  At least once per month, I will spend quality time connecting with my closest friends through a phone call, a drink and a stogie, good food or some form of true man-time and make a point of asking how they're doing... and I will wait for their answer.

Sometimes, I Just Need To Be Kicked In The Shawshanks

When you're a single man for over three decades, suffice it to say that you allow yourself nearly unlimited Moron Points (we'll call them MPs, for short) on a daily basis. You forget friends' birthdays, you don't floss regularly, you go to a dinner party without bringing a bottle of wine or flowers, you often eat things off the floor. No one dies, but you don't exactly move up the suave chain. Heck, you don't even really keep count of your MPs because you often don't particularly care. Even if you're a pretty together kind of guy, you still pull plenty of dumb stunts. The MP supply gets somewhat diminished when you start dating seriously, and that supply further dwindles once you tie the knot. Ask any married guy. He'll tell you, "Man, I miss those."

It is said that marriage is a mirror for you to see your own flaws. Whoever said that first was right. He should also be punched in the chest. In 2010, I began to see all the ways that I have given myself license to be stupid. Now, I don't advocate changing just to please your spouse. That's a slippery slope, and no one can be all things to his or her spouse, so don't start doing it all now. But  real change is good. Real change is a character builder, and you want to be the kind of man your kids look up to and that your wife adores. Plus, let's be honest. A man's got to not just have his standards. He's got to strive to live up to them, too. So, this is where my journey begins. Of course, I stand with just about everyone else in the consensus that resolutions suck. It means you have to keep track of stuff and you can't sleep in on a daily basis. But as Andy Dufresne said in The Shawhank Redemption, "Get busy livin' or get busy dyin'." Okay, that still sounds dumb, but you get the general idea.

Over the next few days, I'll put together a list. A very specific list of five or six key areas in my life that I'll track every day of 2011. If you're bored out of your skull, you'll join me for the ride and hopefully be inspired to take some steps of your own.

Resolutions suck, but so does my inclination to improve myself. Time to pummel the sloth.