I betcha not. Knock on wood:
Excuse me, Buddha, for not living in the moment right now. This next year is going to be one hell of a roller coaster.
After Auren Hoffman challenged me to a game of correspondence chess through RedHotPawn, I listened to some Bobby Knight to get fired up. 15 moves later, mostly made during classes, I hung my own knight. Aaren capitalized on my mistake, and started picking off my pawns. Damn. After the New Year I will work to reinvigorate my game with the same passion I had as a youngster (and revive my killer ping pong game). In the meantime, if anyone wants to duel me in chess via RedHotPawn while I’m still in a fertile state, challenge away. Bring. It. On.
As the great Mike Tyson said, "My style is impetuous. My defense is impregnable, and I’m just ferocious. I want your heart. I want to eat his children. I just want to conquer people and their souls."
I’ve been thinking a lot about grief. I’ve never felt the deep, searing grief that is only associated with death. Why? No one super close to me has ever died. I’ve been to one funeral in my life. I know that – as much as I may be a cynical and jaded bastard especially when compared to my idealistic friends from school – I still have the badge of innocence that only someone as young as I could sport.
A few weeks ago a classmate stood up at an all-school assembly and told a touching story about a good friend of hers who was tragically killed. Just a few days ago I heard about a young guy – 18 or 19 years old – who was hit by a car on his birthday walking home at night.
I knew no one in the Gulf Coast, no one in the World Trade Center, no solider in Iraq.
I DO know that some day, maybe tomorrow, maybe in a week, maybe in a year, chance will have it that I am faced with a great tragedy. And I sometimes wonder, in bed in the darkness of my room, how I will react in such a circumstance. Will I cry? Will I buy a book on "how to deal with grief"? Will I try to forget it? Will I try to "celebrate" the person’s life?
Steven Levitt, the author of Freakonomics and Chicago professor, did a post this evening on his blog commemorating his son’s death six years ago. He was one year old. It spoke to me and inspired this post. Probably because of the reference to the Rent song "Seasons of Love."
Given my new-agey outlook on the world, one would think I would be a hard core yoga devotee. In fact, while I meditate as often as I can, I’ve never done yoga. Until today. Thanks to my Asian Studies course, I did an hour of hatha yoga today. It was great! I really didn’t expect to sweat as much as I did. I sweated so much that I had to take off my shirt, a move I knew would draw speculation from my peers. Does he really need to take off his shirt, or is it really about a more public display of those bulging pectoral muscles? Just kidding.
Yoga was great. I plan on doing it regularly – along with Ping Pong and Chess – after my basketball career ends in March.
I realized how much energy I am now expending every day running around when I considered all I ate or drank today:
Breakfast (6:40 AM) – Cereal, toast, orange juice
Snack #1 (9:45 AM) – Peanutbutter & jelly sandwich
Lunch (11:50 AM) – Two sandwiches, yogurt, V8 juice, cookie, apple
Snack #2 (3:00 PM) – Cliff Bar
Snack #3 (4:00 PM) – Banana
Snack #4 (5:00 PM) – Yogurt, Pecan Bar
Dinner (7:00 PM) – Pasta dish, chicken wing, milk, salad
Total Water Consumption All Day: 2.5 liters (this is a lot of water)
I’m a kind of nutrition nut, so I like to keep track of these things. Peak performance starts with optimum nutrition and hydration – most people forget to drink lots of water throughout the day. If your urine is yellow, you’re de-hydrated. I tell my basketball teammates in-season to always observe the color of their urine. One person said to me, "Ben, everytime I piss and see what color it is, I’ll think of you." I can think of no greater honor.