Why are Crooks Caught, part 1?

Alliteration as a second grader? A sign of genius or of Dr. Seuss's influence?

As promised to the two of you who took my birthday quiz last week, here is a literary analysis of a story I wrote in 2nd grade. It's called Crooks Are Caught, and you will notice a few things right off the bat. First of all, my handwriting was actually better back then. Second, my drawing abilities were not. They were about the same as they are now. Third, my writing skills have improved as much as my drawing skills. I wouldn't call this high literature, but some may say, "What is the step above high literature? Because this story above that step." Who am I to call people liars? Especially if that people is me. Don't worry if you find it hard to follow. Faulkner was also hard to follow sometimes.

Page 1 (Click to enlarge)

First of all, let's not confuse the author's life experiences with the narrator's voice. Obviously, the author took great pains to research this character and was invited to plenty of birthday parties and stupid trick-or-treating. Birthday parties are lame, anyways! Who cares about birthday parties?! Second, note how the reader immediately knows what time of the year it is without the author writing, "It's October." The first line really illustrates the authors potential, even if this subtle technique disappears for the rest of the story. Third, the author immediately sets up the universal themes of isolation and the desire to be accepted--as well as Halloween and birthdays. The author obliquely shows the reader that the protagonist is lonely and wishes only for companionship from a loyal friend who accepts him for who he is and will join him in his imaginary adventures across time and landscapes beyond the reality that fetters all mankind. I think all of this is pretty obvious from the well crafted sentence "And nobody would play with him." The simplicity of the sentence is reminiscent of Hemingway.

Page 2 (Click to enlarge)

Uh, here the author is filling the reader in on important details of the protagonist's life. One may consider the methods rather . . . bad. Some may even call them elementary, but what is one to expect from a second grader? On the other hand, this page gives the audience a taste of the action that is sure to hold their attention for the rest of the book. Notice how the author paints the scene with verbs: jumped, ran, ran, tiptoed, got. The author's grasp of the English language is quite evident. Perhaps even Nabakovian. I think it is also important to note the names of the protagonist's parents: Bill and Linda. Obviously, this is shorthand for Bill and Melinda Gates, who would eventually become one of the world's richest and most influential couples. I have to admit that I am unsure why the author chose to reveal such prophetic insight at this point in the story. I suppose if I were a smarter, better educated literary analyst, I may have a chance at understanding the author's obviously deeply thought out agenda. Alas, I am dumb and have not had enough years of school.

Page 3 (Click to enlarge)

I have to admit the illustrator of this page is very bad. The "dog", which is a term I use loosely to describe the abomination that the illustrator has assembled before our eyes, is a two legged beast without a muzzle. We can only guess at what it is because the "artist" has written "Arf!!!" in a dialogue bubble above it. In addition, this drawing simply shows the protagonist touching the crook's butt. Even the drawing of the door kind of sucks.

On the other hand, page 3 is where the author really starts to comment on society, pretty much like Chaucer did. The only way Peter can prevent the crook from using violence is to employ the very threat of violence that the crook was going to use. This action forces the reader to ponder the question, "Is Peter any better than the man who was trying to rob him?" The answer comes when Peter calls the "polices". That's right, he didn't just call the singular police, he called all the polices. Peter chooses society's standards of justice instead of employing vigilante justice. Is this a ploy to be accepted or does he truly believe that his peers' norms are the rules he must live by? Heavy stuff. It is also important to note that the crook is never given a name. Perhaps this is the author's way of making the crook a metaphor for all the faceless and nameless violence that society has come to accept as a fact of life. Or the author might simply be a lazy second grader.

Page 4 (Click to enlarge)

The author gets a little sloppy here. What is trick-or-tre-ating? And they were "inviting him to their house to play"? Do they all live in the same house? Hey, kid! "Alot" is not a word. Horrible grammar. As bad as e e cummings. On this page, the author reveals the selfless nature of the protagonist. He becomes popular but shares his awesomeness with all by making sure they go trick-or-treating together. I know of no less selfish act. Yes, that sentence is slightly confusing. Additionally, the author brings the fulfillment of the protagonist's dreams too early in the story. This is either bad writing or precocious writing. Early success in a story is often foreboding, indicating a fall of some kind in later pages. What is better than seeing a hero rise? Seeing his monumental collapse. Better than collapse? Witnessing redemption. The question is whether or not the author knew this as a second grader. Will Peter keep rising upon the airs of his ego until the glow of fame melts his wings? Or will the story continue as is, demonstrating that the author is a second grader lacking the life experience necessary to weave a proper tale of hubris and redemption? 


These questions will be answered next week. This is exactly half way into the story. The author also had the foresight to build in a cliff hanger at this point, for when the book was eventually adapted for a six part miniseries. He even left the last word on the page split. What could kids who are going trick-or-treating get that starts with "can-"? Is it a lot of cannolis? A lot of cannabis? A lot of candelabras? Tune in next week to find out.

Why can't I stop listening to "We're Not Young"?

I'm not young.

I recently posted about the song "We Are Young" by FUN. featuring Janelle Monae and explained how the nostalgic but hopeful sentiment of the song was infectious. Recently, a parody of the song called "We're Not Young" went viral. (Thanks, Jackie for providing the blog fodder, or blodder.) The ditty distills the hopelessness and anxiety of my generation into four minutes. The clever lyrics are a laundry list of daily endeavors that we undertake to avoid the boredom that engulfs some of us in our 30s, when we find ourselves at the end of the life path that society has mapped out for us and realize that the rest is up to us. It can be a scary time, but it can be pretty exciting as well.

The song elicits two consecutive emotions. The first is levity as you listen and say, "Hey, that's me! Ha ha!" The second is depression as you listen and say, "Hey, that's me! Wah wah!" I've written out the lyrics below and compared my life to it. You can do the same, if you want to be sad.

Give me a second, I . . . I don't have time, it's getting late (I think I've been out past midnight maybe once in the last year)

My friends are all parents now, dinner parties with cheese plates (The first part is true, though my friends who are into cheese plates do not have kids.)

My girlfriend, she is waiting for me to buy a diamond ring / Been together eight years now, feel like I'm settling (None of this is true for me, but perhaps that's because my girl preferred seeing rocks to getting a rock)

You know that college was ten years ago (True next month)

I know you're trying to forget (Already have)

Depression and anxiety / Has come on strong since 33 / Made it hard not crack (If this blog becomes a downer in a year, you'll know if this is true--or maybe it's already on its way)

So if by the time I'm 40 and I'm still a waiter here / I'm killing myself tonight (You could have replaced 40 with 32 and "waiter" with "grad student" and it may have been me)

Tonight we're not young (Well, not as young)

We're all somewhere in our 30s (Yep)

Done nothing worthy (Sorry to say that grad school often feels like that)

This ain't fun (At the very least, it's different)

Tonight we're not young (We could be older)

I guess I'll learn Photoshop, maybe I'll sell pot, start a blog (I've done two out of three--the legal ones)

Now I know that I'm fat / Shut up about that (My new job has me headed this way)

I guess I'll do elliptical, maybe I can finally do that yoga class (Oooh, elliptical sounds much easier on my knees)

But I probably won't / HDTV (TV!)

Gonna stay at home and watch Modern Family (Used to do that, but now there is better stuff on)

Tonight, we're not young (Dang, I do need to go to bed)

Gonna get our shit together (Maybe, but what is "together") / Be less distracted (huh?) /

Words with Friends (Definitely--or any other Game with Friends)

Tonight, we're not young (OK, when you repeat it this many times, it's hard not to believe)

It's time to get my prostate checked / I'm a nervous wreck / That's not all (Uh, I don't think this an appropriate topic for my blog)

Apply to grad school tonight (I learned that lesson in my 20s)

Yoga teacher training tonight / Real estate test tonight / Improv class tonight (Not quite into any of these yet, but I know people who have gone these routes)

Might have a drinking problem (Where's my scotch?)

I got a DUI / So will someone come and drive me home tonight (Nah)

I need health insurance (Not quite true since I'll be doing my fourth health care insurance change in one year when June rolls around)

I let the dental slide (Not quite though the teeth are definitely on the down slope)

And I'm really gonna start that blog tonight (What do you think I'm doing?)

Tonight, we are scared so let's . . . oh my god (I have to admit there were times when I was really scared during the past year--the real world blows)

Tonight, we're not young (I feel like I'm 60)

We've accomplished nothing (I have to admit there were times when I felt exactly this during the last year--grad school blew)

I have no money / Where's my gun (Yep, but that may be because I buy too many apps, chais, and Scotch.)

So if by the time I'm 40 and I'm still a waiter here / Oh please God I don't want to even imagine it / Tonight

If you're in the wah wah phase of emotional response, read on. Like most comedy, the song is funny because it's partly true. Ours is a generation of advanced degrees and delayed family starts, making our 30s the new what-the-hell-am-I-going-to-do-now-that-I-am-out-of-college phase--or an early midlife crisis without the money and kids. (This is especially true if you spent the majority of your 20s in grad school.) Both stages of life force the question of "What's next, now that I've successfully met society's expectations?"

For many of us, the answer is "Start a family", and many of my friends have successfully (congrats!) done that. They seem to be deeply in love with and happily consumed by their ever changing children, and I am truly happy for each of them and wish them more nights of sleep than they are probably getting. I have always assumed that being a parent provides a higher purpose in life, a reason for doing the job you may not quite love or putting off writing that novel--or maybe that's just growing up. However, I am unready to relinquish the freedom that allows me to selfishly indulge in my hobbies like jogging, blogging, and reading quietly on the beach. If you've met my wife, you know she is a career woman, and I can tell you that she has not been happier in a job since I've met her. So, I'm not just being a typical guy who is putting off becoming a dad so I can spend more time hanging with the guys. In short, kids are a little ways off, which means the question of "What's next?" remains unanswered. (I apologize to any potential grandmas who may be reading this.)

I also thought that getting the right job and making a little more money may solve all my problems. Though I really enjoy my new job, it doesn't bring as much fulfillment as I thought it would. I like honing my skills and learning new things daily in an environment where I am not 100% sure what each day will bring. I could probably bury myself in work and feel completely fine with that, and the extra money provides a little bit more freedom as well. But for some reason, "We're Not Young" still rings true--perhaps even more true than it would have three months ago, when I had a goal of obtaining a new job. But I have what I've wanted for the last four years and now I have to figure out what's next. Of course, I'll be working hard, but I would be doing that regardless of where I work. I've set personal goals, such as running faster and reading more, and I've found some satisfaction in working towards those goals. But the song still strikes a chord with me.

The conclusion I have come to is that I am always looking forward, hesitant to accept the present or acknowledge that what I have done in the past is worth acknowledging. I've always downplayed my past achievements because they have come with what seems like little sacrifice. Or perhaps I feel like I sacrificed too much and regret that. Either way, my past is my past, and it's made me who I am today, and I am realizing that I am really good with that fact. I have to modestly say that I think I'm a pretty awesome person. I'm reasonably intelligent, hard working, funny, conscientious, trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly--now I'm just reciting the Boy Scout Law because I'm lazy.

And as a group, we thirty-somethings can look back and realize that we've accomplished much. We've earned advanced degrees. We've started families that will make us proud and drive us crazy. We've gotten new jobs, sometimes two or three. We've read and learned and had tiny epiphanies. We've sent pieces of ourselves out into the world in the forms of writing and art and hard work. But most importantly, we've made friends, been there for each other, and shared some special moments. We may play Words with Friends, watch Modern Family, and suffer from insomnia, but there are plenty of new experiences ahead, new people to meet, and memorable times to be had. Sure, some of those times will involve a prostate check (or other unpleasant medical experiences), drinking (maybe some that will result in days of required recovery), and being scared (of more things than we can really imagine). It will all certainly be different, but plenty of it will be worth remembering. The song is right that we're not young--but we are still far from being old.

Why is prepackaged food the best?

Figure 1. Surprisingly to me, tracking what I was eating actually changed my eating habits.

The general consensus on prepackaged, processed food is that it is bad, bad, bad for you. I am going to give you an example of why it is good, good, good for you--well, me. As I mentioned in my last post, which some of you liked and some of you really, really liked, I have departed the lab and am now confined to a chair for most of the day. Sitting for long hours requires a break, and where is more appropriate to take a break than the break room? Unfortunately, that room is stocked with different foods from Costco. The ploy is genius. Work hard, take a break, eat food, get fat, grow large, increase immobility, stay in chair longer, work more. That may have happened if leaving the lab hadn't left a void in my life. I am talking about the main purpose of my last decade at the bench: collecting data--well, that and avoiding collecting data. Sitting all day and reading about nutrition inspired me to start tracking what I was putting into my body for the first time in my life. At the end, I realized that it seems much more efficient to diet than to exercise.

Calories In

People count calories when trying to lose weight, and I used to wonder how they do that. I still wonder a little because understanding how many calories are in the hodge podge of items I eat at lunch and dinner is difficult to calculate. I can't measure anything by eye and the imprecision drives the scientist in me nuts. And nuts are high in fat. Some of you are thinking, duh, which is fair. I'm a novice to calorie counting, so I'm way behind people like my sister who know all the current nutrition trends and can estimate the grams of monounsaturated fat in a meal with 17 ingredients if she knows what kind of oils were used to prepare the meal. The advantage of prepackaged foods is that it's incredibly easy to precisely quantify what I am putting into my body, at least snack-wise. It's a fun little science experiment (albeit with no controls, a low n, and a biased experimenter), and I was surprised at the results.

Here's a list of the foods that I have inhaled at some point since I started keeping track:

Nutrigrain breakfast bar

Quaker oatmeal bar

Kudos bar with some sort of candy

Tiger's milk bar

Trio bar

Beef Jerky single serving package

Tropicana orange juice

Activa yogurt

There were plenty of other options, but I started with these.

My focus has been on five main categories (though I have data for many more, like vitamins). I have been trying to minimize calories, total fat, and sodium while maximizing protein and fiber. Most of the above products are fine in the sodium category, except one. That's right, don't eat beef jerky everyday because each package has one third of your recommended daily intake (RDI). I knew it was salty, but damn. Say hello to hypertension. But also say hello to muscles like a major league slugger because you also get a third of your protein.

I like salt literally more than anybody I know, but even the amount in beef jerky seemed like too much. I wanted to maintain the protein but decrease the sodium, so I switched to having Trio bars (starting on Day 2), which are packed full of nuts. They don't have quite as much protein as straight up meat, but they have a fair amount, plus way more fiber--and that comes with less than one twelfth of the salt in beef jerky. What a great deal! Such a great deal that I was eating two a day. But two Trio bars equal one half of your RDI of fat and almost 25% of your total calories. Oh, that's why they tasted so delicious.

I stopped eating Trio bars and stuck to a Tigers Milk bar, which comes in three flavors. The one I eat is called "protein rich", which means that it has six grams of protein instead of five like the other flavors. So rich with protein! I also ate fewer items and not because was busier. I just stopped grabbing two of everything when I was in the break room. Weird how that works. Here's where the numbers were on Wednesday (see also Fig. 1).

Calories: High 49% Wednesday 27%

Total Fat: High 66% Wednesday 20%

Sodium: High 51% Wednesday 10%

Protein: High 64% Wednesday 32%

Fiber: High 52% Wednesday 20%

So, I'm a little deficient in the protein and fiber categories, which I fix by chowing down on more salad, fruits, and protein at my work-provided lunch. Of course, then I eat as many cookies as I can find when I get home from work just because I can.

I started by saying that prepackaged food is awesome, and it is if you don't care about keeping track of the big meals like lunch and dinner. How many calories can be in those anyways? The majority of your RDI? Whatever. The interesting thing is that keeping track actually influenced what I've been eating, which I didn't really expect. True, it's probably not the eating of the prepackaged food that changed my diet but tracking my intake that made the difference. However, keeping tabs is much easier if it's written right on the food--or at least the environmentally unfriendly plastic that encases it. It's also easier to keep track of your carbon footprint.

Calories Out

Caloric intake is only half of the equation. The energy you spend also factors into the equation. Or does it? This article from Slate summarizes some findings that say diet may be more important than exercise when it comes to weight loss. When you look at the numbers, this makes perfect sense. I've calculated how many calories I burn running a mile using this handy calorie calculator. Basically, a person of my weight burns around 120 calories per mile run, at a pace between six and ten minutes per mile. So, ten minutes equals 120 calories gained. I can eat a Nutrigrain bar in 10 seconds. Eating is just way more efficient than exercise. I can negate an entire ten minutes of running with ten seconds of eating. So it's easy to see why gaining weight is way easier than losing it. Of course, eating brings pleasure whereas running brings gasping for air--at least when I run. So it's much harder to cut the eating than to add the running.

This little prepackaged food experiment has revealed to me that the diet part of the diet and exercise equation is more important to watch if a person is trying to change his or her weight. Exercise is for the birds! (Or anybody who is trying to maintain decent cardio fitness, which should be everybody, of course.) All this sitting and writing has made me hungry. Time for a cookie! I hope I can get the package open.

Why is working in an office different than working in a lab?

New job, new shoes.

I've survived two weeks in my first full-time office job since 1999, which makes it my second cubicle job ever. Every other gig has involved mixing solutions, magnifying specimens, and moving microliters of liquid from one tube to another. The first two weeks have exposed a few differences between the world of tubes and the world of cubes.

Sitting

I now know why America should be worried about our sedentary jobs. In a lab, I was forced to walk a mile or two during the course of the day because equipment was spread throughout the building. I quantified it for awhile using a pedometer, but I didn't write the data down in my notebook. Typical. Just kidding, old bosses! I wrote everything down--somewhere--but probably illegibly. In my office job, I can literally work all day without walking over 200 steps between entering the office in the morning to leaving it at night. The day requires me to walk into the office, walk to and from a meeting, walk to and from the lunch room for lunch, and then walk out of building. Maybe throw in a bathroom break, but given that I am sitting so much, I could probably get away without that. Now, let's compare that to my bathroom patterns in a lab. Or not.

At the office, I force myself to take a quick walk every day, which means I amble along a street lined by one-story office parks that are full of glass and cement. Compare that to my last two jobs where I could jog around a tree-laden college campus or through a world renowned state park. You may be thinking, "Yep, the grass is always greener . . ." However, there is no grass where I currently work; so the saying would go, "There is grass on the other side." I miss those days when there was grass.

The one positive that has come from sitting so much is that I think I understand my dad a little better. He would run 20 miles a week when he was working office jobs, which I didn't comprehend because I hated running. I couldn't figure out why people would want to run more than the length of a soccer field. I now realize that I've taken for granted all of the walking my lab jobs have required. After a day of sitting at a desk, I need to move my legs. I still can't say I love to run, but I am starting to see why my dad ran so much. Maybe someday I will be as fast as him, and run a 10K at a seven minute-mile pace, which he did in his 50s. Then again, I am genetically predisposed to being a sprinter so maybe not.

Appearances

There is a slight difference between the wardrobe requirements for a human in an office and a grad student in a lab, but there are other appearance-related issues as well. Let's start with the clothes though. As many of you know, you can wear pretty much anything to lab, especially if you are in the right county. Lab safety requirements and their enforcement vary, so at Stanford, I wore flip-flops, shorts, and T-shirts on a daily basis. My friend took it step further and often wore clothes with holes in them. You know who you are. In San Diego, I was forced to wear close-toed shoes and pants, which was a real drag. My wide feet and chicken legs are my best assets. When I switched to an office job, I had to buy a new wardrobe, which meant shirts with more than three buttons, pants that post-dated college, socks that weren't all identical (so I wouldn't have to match them after washing--duh), undershirts without holes, shoes that had most of their soles left, and underwear that--hey, mind your own business. Then I had to figure out how to wear these things. I'm still not sure how to tuck in my shirt properly. And I think my pants hang on me in a weird way because my butt is flatter than my back. And I am considering buying those things that old guys wear to hold up their socks and tucking my shirt into my underwear and doing all those other sexy things I never understood.

Beyond the wardrobe, I am forced to do two other things that I didn't do in a lab: shave regularly and look busy. I probably shaved two or three times per week when working in a lab because . . . well, because I don't think anybody cared. Or at least I didn't care enough to see if anybody cared. Add the fact that I don't grow a 5 o' clock shadow because I am not a barbarian (or manly?) and there just wasn't much need to shave. Oh and I was super busy thinking about science. Except that I wasn't.

In lab, I could kill an hour or more surfing the Internet. I would say that I was abnormally lazy, but I am pretty sure everybody did this--for at least an hour. Back me up, science friends. There are many reasons surfing the web in lab is so commonplace. First of all, everybody else is doing it--but I guess that's the chicken and the egg problem. Second, you're usually in a space where only one or two people can see what you're doing on your screen, so there's no public shame involved. Finally, you're going to be in lab for another nine to eleven hours, so what's an hour or two on the web? On the plus side, it leads to a lot of smart people from different backgrounds being overly informed about the rest of the world, which is kind of awesome. Or it lead to a lot of poor people looking at retail items they can't afford.

In my office, I work in an open space. I don't even have a cubicle, so I have zero privacy. My back is to the rest of the office so anybody walking by can see my screens. I make sure I have some work on at least one screen. If I'm chatting, I tuck the box into the corner so it's slightly less obvious that I'm not working. I'm probably not being as sneaky as I think am, but I have eliminated almost all ESPN and Facebook at work (except on my phone if I'm bored-shhhhh). These sites used to easily suck an hour or two out of my days in lab, especially during college football season, and now I rarely visit them. The result of looking busy is that I am a less informed person about the world of sports and the lives of my friends. Sorry, friends. I do care that you posted some song lyrics and--ah, let's face it, most of my news feed is from pages I "liked".

People

This is the "I have no friends yet" section. Seriously though, the people were the most important, yet least appreciated aspect of lab life that I have noticed. I am still surrounded by scientists in my new job, so we can remove that variable from this experiment. However, they are a bit older than me, have teenagers, and have different goals than me. For them, this is a job. For me, this feels like a huge opportunity. In my immediate vicinity, they are all scientists who read and summarize papers, whereas I am the only one now who is shaping those summaries into client-friendly sentences. Most of them are gone by 5:30, whereas I stick around until 6:00 and still feel like I'm leaving too early. Not a lot of sports fans, possibly because it's an international group--or maybe because it's a group of scientists. Bottom line is that there are a lot of demographic differences between the group and me, and I'm not seeing many potential drinking buddies.

In a lab, you are in a group of self-selected, super smart, underpaid people who work long hours and gripe about their projects, their boss, their careers, and their own quirky issues. They are people who understand exactly what you are going through because they are going through the same psychologically grueling process. I was lucky because I made some good friends, but I was beyond lucky because, at each of my major lab stops, I found a person or two who I still really like, even without our continued shared experiences at the bench. I found a few really good friends who made the workplace feel less like work.

Leaving the lab means I'll miss those random chats that happened during the day while sitting at the scope next to somebody or peering under bottle-laden shelves. No more late night talks or pulling plates for somebody on the weekend, those moments that made you realize you were in it together with somebody. No more random and sometimes heated conversations about sports or international politics or a policeman's responsibility when using lethal force. No more distracting talks about personality types, where to get a less cheap-looking but still cheap haircut, or the worst part about throwing up. Those great friends who accepted all the anger and wackiness that come with me are the people who make my new workplace hard to appreciate.

I'm pretty sure I don't miss lab, but once in awhile, I do really miss the people who were in it with me and the simple and free life that it allowed. So when my butt outgrows my fancy new clothes, I'll think back to a time when I was unhappy with where I was in life but happy that there were great people right there with me.

Why can't I stop listening to "We Are Young"?

The ear worm. It's that song you can't get out of your head, often put there by a horrible friend, prefaced by, "You know what song I can't get out of my head?" Or it's that song you find yourself singing the chorus of when you leave the clothing or grocery store. Usually, it's annoying and elicits some level of shame. Once in awhile, though, it's the song that psychs you up or takes you back to that moment when life was all possibility and all ahead of you. For the last month, "We Are Young" by FUN. featuring Janelle Monae has been that ear worm for me, a rare one in which the melody resonates and the lyrics are subtle and clever but not overly so.

You've probably heard the song even if you don't know it. It cropped up in a Super Bowl commercial this year and made it onto Glee. But let's be honest, what haven't they sung on Glee? If that doesn't ring a bell, click here for the official video, which is kind of fun, and here for an acoustic version, where you can really appreciate the vocal harmonies. I have to thank my friend and former worm lab colleague, George, for generating this ear worm for me. He submitted the song to a lab mix tape/CD/MP3 playlist, and I accidentally complimented his song. When I tried to explain why his choice was so awesome, he suggested I blog about why. I tell you this so that you can blame him for the ear worm if you hate the song.

The most striking quality of the song is that it simultaneously elicits nostalgia and an everything's-going-to-be-alright hope for the future. Nostalgia always carries with it a basic desire to return to the past but not a real hope. It's wistful, not invigorating. Perhaps I am feeling more nostalgic than usual because I'm aging and beginning to long for the days when it seemed life was going to take care of me instead of me having to take care of life. Hearing FUN. sing about the unbridled potential of youth makes me miss that period of my life. On the other hand, I'm not old enough to be unmoved by the song's title and galvanizing chorus: "Tonight / We are young / So let's set the world on fire / We can burn brighter / Than the sun." There is still time to make some mistakes, take a couple of wrong paths, and miss a few opportunities. I'm older but not quite old, so let's not play it too safe just yet. But who knows what I'll do when those moments present themselves?

The first verse is a well crafted depiction of a situation that evoked an even greater appreciation for the song.

Give me a second, I . . . I need to get my story straight. (A hint that the singer may be drunk ("I . . . I") and has some explaining to do.)

My friends are in the bathroom getting higher than the Empire State. (We now know the crowd he runs with via a clever analogy: "higher than the Empire State" referring to the building.)

My lover, she is waiting for me just across the bar. (Introducing the object of his affection.)

My seat's been taking by some sunglasses asking about a scar. (My favorite line intimating that the guy hitting on her is a jerk: "some sunglasses".)

And I know I gave it to you months ago. ("It" refers to the scar in the previous line, and I like to think this line is a transition to the metaphorical, telling us that he caused his lover emotional pain in the past.)

I know you're trying to forget. (She loves him enough that she's trying to let it go.)

But between the drinks and subtle things.

The holes in my apologies, (I just like the way these lines flow, but I'm a sucker for near rhymes contained within lines: tween, drinks, things, -gies.)

You know I'm trying hard to take it back. (The singer is trying to make amends.)

So if by the time the bar closes

And you feel like falling down,

I'll carry you home. (The singer is still there for her despite the rough patches.)

Take a listen. If you take it off of repeat, I'll be surprised.

Why is Linsanity My Favorite Sports Story of All Time?

If Jeremy Lin had been around to Linspire me, this picture may have contained a hardwood floor, some high tops, and maybe even a ball of some sort.

If you're like me, an Asian American from the Bay Area who attended a decent school, broke his ankle in high school, and went undrafted by the NBA, you can easily relate to the Jeremy Lin story. If you're not, apparently you can still follow the story just as closely. I've been fascinated by how the nation--nay, the world--has reacted to the Taiwanese-American who attended Harvard and rode the bench and slept on sofas and then exploded onto largest sports media market in the country by leading a lagging New York basketball franchise back from a horrendous slide. The New York Knicks were 8-15, having lost eleven of their last thirteen game, when Jeremy Lin won his first game with them. Lin helped them win eight of their next ten games, taking out the Lakers and the reigning Champions, the Dallas Mavericks. Sports analysts are now debating which round the Knicks will make it to in the playoffs.

This is my favorite sports story line since watching Hoosiers, and a movie script will certainly be written about Jeremy Lin. (I sincerely hope they come up with a better title than "Linsanity!") However, you can't beat watching the story develop in real time in real life. They story is compelling because it is a true underdog story that transcends basketball and makes the improbable seem plausible.

What makes Jeremy Lin a Classic Underdog Story?

At its heart, this is an underdog story, which is why it's so captivating. But what makes an underdog? I can think of four common elements to the underdog story: overcoming Linsurmountable odds (yes, you will find an easy pun here and there--it's Linevitable), achieving success (often of a non-traditional flavor), having a relate-able and humble protagonist, and challenging the idea that an athlete should fit a specific mold. Not all great sports stories have all four elements, but the Jeremy Lin story does.

The first element is overcoming long odds, which requires perseverance in the face of great adversity. Just getting to the NBA, let alone turning around a team, is improbable enough for an individual. Lin's chance to prove himself was an unlikely event because he was not recruited, drafted, or retained by two teams. In the section below, I go into much more detail about how a confluence of many events created a perfect atmosphere for the Lin story. The only events that could have made it more compelling are if A) he had survived a life threatening medical procedure, B) risen out of abject squalor, C) won a battle with addiction and/or old age, or D) all of the above. The bottom line is that Lin had to wait for his chance and was close to giving up on his dream of playing in the NBA. Luckily, he stuck with it, and it's worked out pretty well for all of us so far.

The second element of the underdog story is success, often with a modified definition. Rudy never led his team to a National Title; Billy Beane didn't win the World Series; the Jamaican Olympic Bobsled Team failed to win gold. They were all stories of success though. Jeremy Lin doesn't have to carry his team to a Championship. In the past two weeks, he's already achieved success, which was the turnaround of the Knicks, the rejuvenation of a franchise and a city's basketball hopes, and making regular people care about the regular season of the NBA. Sure, we may hope he takes the Knicks all the way and wins a bunch of rings, but it almost doesn't matter because he's already won us over.

The third element of the underdog story is a protagonist with whom people can identify. Sports fans want athletes who share something with them. It's why you root for the home team or your country of origin. People want want to see a team full of people like them win. While it may be an absurd connection, it's a connection that creates an emotional investment in the game. That's why Christians root for Tebow, upstate New Yorkers root for Jimmer Fredette, and alumni root for athletes from their schools. Of course, if the athlete is exceptional, it makes it easier to root for him or her.

As I alluded to at the beginning of this post, I have a lot of things in common with Jeremy Lin, which makes it very easy for me to root for him. I'm Asian American, grew up in the Bay Area, tried out for my high school basketball team, got a degree from a decent school, broke my ankle in high school, wear socks, have been to New York City, am male, etc. Heck, Lin was literally playing ball down the street from where I worked while he was in high school. I probably drove by him on my way home. It's easy for me to see him as a better, more successful version of me, which makes it very easy for me to hope he does well. But what about everybody else? I think people are drawn to his struggle and success, but beyond that, I'm not really sure what makes him relate-able to everybody else. Do they like his humility? Maybe they are drawn to the simple fact that he was unlikely to make it so far and be so successful. Or maybe they like him because he defies their expectations of what a pro baller should look like.

The fourth element of an underdog story is that the underdog challenges people's expectations. Football players should be big; small towns, schools, or budgets should not be able to field enough talent to win a championship; tropical countries should not be able to compete in the Winter Olympics. Basketball players are usually tall, black, maybe white, and not Ivy League graduates. Jeremy Lin isn't short, but he's also a minority on the court in the way he looks and the academic path he took. To me, his race is a big part of this story. I think if all things were the same but he were black, he wouldn't have hit the news cycle as big. I think if he were white, it would have been a slightly bigger story, but not as big as if he were Asian. We expect black players to dominate the league.

Lin's race is the most apparent way he defies what we expect NBA players to be, and it makes him easier to follow on the court. Of course, he had to have some skills and help his team win a lot; those are the minimum requirements of this story line. The fact remains that we have not seen an Asian American of Chinese or Taiwanese descent in the league, which makes Jeremy Lin a novelty of sorts. I think he gives Asian American kids a great role model, and if he had been around when I was in high school, I may have chosen a different sport. I'm not saying I'd be in the NBA right now (though it's pretty likely), but I definitely would have tried harder to get into Harvard undergrad. Lin is obviously a pretty good player, but the fact that he is forcing all of us to reevaluate our notion of who can be a good player is an element of the story that most of us find appealing. He even inspired SNL to make a moderately funny skit about race--I know, shocking.

A Perfect Storm Provides a Perfect Chance

Back to the first element of the underdog story: overcoming long odds. The likeliness of Jeremy Lin playing, let alone starting, for the Knicks was so Linfinitesimal that I would have given you 10:1 odds that on Rudy was more likely to wear a Notre Dame jersey. I would also have bet on Seabiscuit, the 1980 US Olympic Hockey Team, Rocky Balboa, Hickory high school basketball, the cash-strapped Oakland A's, the South African rugby team, and the Jamaican Olympic bobsled team before I bet on Jeremy Lin to start. If you can get all those sports movie references, I'll buy you some Lingonberry jam at IKEA next time we're there together. That's not a pun, it's a real thing.

First of all, neither of Lin's parents were over 5'6", but he's 6'3". According to the myeh source of Wikipedia (which a lot of this Lin history is from--this is a blog, what do you expect?), the average height of an NBA point guard is 6'1", and they are the shortest players on the court. Lin was lucky that his maternal side had some height and he was fed enough to have it realized. Then this kid grew up in the Bay Area, which we all know is a huge disadvantage. If you hadn't noticed, those of us who grew up in the Bay Area are intelligent, athletic, charming, emotionally stable, virile, considerate, sensitive, creative, trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, and most of all, very, very humble. Huh, I guess it's not a disadvantage. Anyway, Lin played good basketball in high school but did not receive any scholarship offers from colleges. He decided to go to Harvard, which is like the Stanford of the east for those of you who have not heard of it. Harvard now has a total of THREE players EVER who played in the NBA, according to ESPN, the last of which played in 1954. After that, Lin was not considered desirable enough to be drafted by the NBA, but after some workouts with some teams, he received some offers to ride suit up and ride some pine.

He went to Golden State, where he was third string behind a player who was runner-up for Rookie of the Year the previous year and a second player who was so good that he was drafted out of high school. Three times that season, he was sent to the NBA minor leagues, where he improved, and was then called back up. Enter the NBA lockout, where the current season was threatened by players and owners wanting more money from each other. The result was that basketball leagues in other countries started looking at the US players to recruit. Lin was close to signing a deal days before the lockout ended on November 26, 2011.

Lin got dumped onto the waiver wires by the Warriors on December 9, where the Rockets picked him up on December 12, only to later put him back on the waiver wire for the Knicks to grab him on December 27. Some sportscasters mention that the Rockets were only forced to do this because the NBA commissioner made an unpopular decision to block a trade that would have sent two of the guards above Lin on the depth chart somewhere else. I'm not convinced the dates work out, but it adds to the story if true. In New York, he slept on his brother's couch then his teammate's couch as he was also buried on the depth chart behind two point guards who I think were only playing because the two guards ahead of them were injured. He only got a chance to play because the Knicks were playing so poorly against the Celtics and the coach decided to give him a chance.

So, about three months ago, Lin was looking to sign with another team on another continent. In the last two months and change, he's been on the payroll of three teams. One month ago, he was buried behind two to four other guards.

Everything in life fell into place for Lin to end up in New York, which is a key place in the story. New York City has the largest TV market in the country. It also has at least two teams nearby for each of the four major sports (Giants, Jets, Yankees, Mets, Knicks, Nets, Rangers, Islanders--I guess hockey missed the memo to have a team that ends with "ets"). I'm not sure most New Yorkers care about regular seasons of sports unless its football (even then, I'm not sure they really, really care like Detroit or Cleveland or Chicago fans--cities put upon by championship droughts/dearths). But sports are prevalent in New York, meaning New York is the place where a story like this is most likely to make headlines and make them fast. Also playing into this story is the fact that the NBA lockout led to a shorter, more compact season in which games are played more frequently. The result is an accelerated news cycle where people don't have to wait as long between games to see how Jeremy Lin does in his next game.

Let's not ignore the timing of the story as it fell into the news cycle either. February is super boring for the sports fan. The Super Bowl early in the month is the end of substantial football talk, pro or college, until the draft in April. You've got hockey, college hoops, and hockey steadily working towards their playoffs and March Madness, but those seasons are so long, they are hard to follow closely until the playoffs. No tennis or golf majors in February. The interminable baseball season hasn't even begun. The Super Bowl was on February 5. Jeremy Lin made his first mark on February 4 when he dropped 25 points on the Nets in a win. He only saw substantial minutes in this game because a fellow player suggested to the coach to let Lin play. Lin started for the Knicks in a win on the 6th, and won his third game on the 8th. At that point, it was the considered a trend. The timing in sports news cycles could not have been much better. It didn't hurt that the story followed Tebow mania, which elicited a lot of comparisons (most of which are unwarranted in my opinion).

The bottom line is that Lin took an incredibly low-probability, nontraditional path to play in the NBA. Through a series of unlikely events that broke his way, he persevered to make the most of his one big shot and become the sensation he has humbly embraced. He could have thrown in the towel, but he didn't and now a lot of people are talking about him and cheering him. Like all underdogs, he inspires people to stick out the bad times because things could work out in the end. I guess you don't have to be like me to relate to Lin.

Why are the Grammys the Best Awards Show?

The Grammys introduced me to country duo The Civil Wars.

Watching the Grammys this year left me feeling pretty satisfied, moreso than the Super Bowl, the College Football Championship, or the Golden Globes (but those are pointless). I realized that the Grammys are good because they are pretty much a big concert with some awards, as opposed to an awards show with a few montages (Oscars) or a funny host (Golden Globes) or musical numbers (Oscars and Tonys--I've never watched the Tonys, so I'm guessing here) or whatever the Emmys have. I watched most of the Grammys this year and thought there were some really good moments, unlike years past when the most memorable moments were a soaked Pink doing acrobatics, poor Taylor Swift having to sing next to Stevie Nicks, or Kanye being a D bag. Though there were a number of good moments, there were a few that made me wonder why aging musicians have to keep going, why a domestic abuser is able to win an award, and why were there nuns in Nicki Minaj's number.

Let's start with the good. There were three moments that had me rapt. Adele's live performance made it obvious that she should win all the awards she did. Even though I would have rather seen her perform "Someone Like You" over "Rolling in the Deep", I was thoroughly impressed. You can really tell the good from the bad in live performances (when they actually sing). You could also see this when Jennifer Hudson performed a tribute to Whitney Houston by singing "I Will Always Love You". It was eerie when it started. I thought they had computer generated Whitney and projected her. But no, it was just Jennifer Hudson singing a tribute to somebody who I imagine was one of her idols growing up. A pretty powerful piece. The third performance that I found most mesmerizing was by The Civil Wars, a country duo who opened for Taylor Swift. Their harmonies were rainbows in my brain--or something like that. They were amazing when they performed a little of "Barton Hollow" live. They also do a sick version of Michael Jackson's "Billy Jean" on YouTube. The other notable moment was Foster the People doing a Beach Boys cover. Their harmonies were pretty sweet as well, a fair bit better than Maroon 5's, even though I'm a fan of Adam Levine's.

Now, for the bad. First of all, no high profile domestic abuser like Chris Brown, who physically beat another Grammy performer Rihanna, should be allowed to perform or given an award a mere THREE YEARS after his history of abuse came to light. I enjoy a good redemption story (I don't mind seeing Michael Vick do well), but there is no way three years is enough for Chris Brown to repent enough for nearly killing a woman. What a despicable human being and what a horrible thing to award him for anything at all. Grammys, you really screwed the pooch on that one. If you really want to be incensed by it, check out this article.

I'm sure the person arranging the acts thought it would be awesome to have the Beach Boys and a Beatle back to back. Unfortunately, it made me think that the California crew was too old to be on stage, let alone singing, and that Paul McCartney was quickly headed that direction. His new song was not quite "Yesterday", but then again, he is probably the person who set the bar higher for everybody, including himself, and made their lyrics sound like a sixteen-year old wrote them (unless that adolescent is Taylor Swift, who I honestly think is a decent song writer--at least on her first album). When there was a jam session with Paul, Bruce Springsteen, and four other famous aging guitarists, I thought one of them might pop a heart string and have to be carted off the stage if it went on much longer. Six old rockers (not a group known for their healthy lifestyles) straining to play like they did in their youth all in one spot; I thought odds were pretty good that an ambulance would be required. The whole thing made me wonder why we keep calling for old musicians to keep at it for so long. I think it ruins some of the nostalgia we associate with their music and makes us feel old in the process.

Finally, Nicki Minaj performed. If you saw it, I think you can understand my reaction: huh? It wasn't controversial enough to be interesting or good enough to make any sense at all. It had some nuns and some hand cuffs and a lot of running around. It was like really, really bad Gaga or Madonna. I actually wanted to hear her do a little more rapping because I thought that was kind of interesting, possibly because it reminded me of Busta Rhymes. Next time, Nicki, a little less writhing and a little more rapping. I'm pretty sure I needed to be a lot drunker to understand what was happening on that stage.

Overall, I give the Grammys a thumbs up despite being downright offensive on the Chris Brown decision and letting Katy Perry perform (though I have found zero people who dislike her as much as I do). There were some moving moments, and I'm now a huge fan of The Civil Wars. So, if you had a choice between watching the Super Bowl and its really unimaginative commercials this year and the Grammys, you should have watched the people who were probably dorks in high school rather than the ones who were jocks.