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I decided tonight to finally watch “Twilight” because I felt it was a part of pop culture about which I was ignorant. My rationale was that it’s a vampire movie, not simply a teen romance fantasy. Well it turned out to be more about teen courtship, but I guess that isn’t surprising. What did strike me as interesting though is how blinded these characters were by their own conceit.

In the following paragraphs, I’ll give a number of examples from the movie, quoting lines, but not giving away any real plot points. If you’ve never seen this film and would like to not get anything spoiled, you’d be better off not reading further. In fact, even if you have seen the film, it might be a good idea to stop reading if you’d like it to remain a romantic fantasy in your mind.

The movie struck a chord with me because I can relate to the idea of being overcome enough with myself that I forget fundamental facts. For instance, when I’m out on a dance floor grooving to the music, I tend to forget that I am a big, hairy dude pushing 40. In my mind, I am a good dancer who can keep the rhythm and execute some moves pretty well. I think I look pretty good, if only for a few moments while the music has me captivated. Without my positive self-image, I supposed I wouldn’t be comfortable enough to dance at all. So it isn’t always a bad thing.

Conceit is just a problem when it distracts us from reality enough to put us in danger. Several of the characters in “Twilight” seem to have this problem throughout the movie. First the lead vampire character: He imagines himself to be invincible. So he spills his secrets to a virtual stranger. He makes statements like, “I’m the world’s most dangerous predator.” Not realizing that his lack of humility and his compassion negate that statement. Predators don’t protect their prey. He also makes the statement, “You’re my own personal heroin.” Without knowing what the drug is like.

The lead female character is just as blind. She realizes this guy she barely knows might be a vampire. So she walks into the wood with him alone to confront him. It’s a move so ridiculously stupid that I laughed out loud when I saw it. Imagine a child realizing the neighbor is a pedophile then going into his basement with him to ask him about it. But this character, because she thinks that her looks or brains or sex appeal will somehow protector, is completely oblivious of the danger she faces.

That’s not the worst part of the film for me though. Something clicked in my head when the vampire explained to the girl how her smell was driving him crazy. She asked him tons of questions about all the things involved in vampirism, but never asked what she smelled like. If she had, I suspect the romance would have been drained from the plot faster than blood from a punctured artery. You see, vampires are crazy about one thing: blood. And women have only one place on them where blood regularly exits.

Early in the movie, when they first meet, the girl walks by a fan that blows her scent in the direction of the vampire. He instantly becomes visibly ill. I can only assume this must mean that she was menstruating at the time. The smell of her bloody vagina must surely have been responsible for his reaction. What’s more, there must be a particularly pungent odor in her undies. I assume a guy with extra keen senses, who’s been seventeen for the last hundred years, was sure to run into his fair share of stinky high school chicks over the years. To make such an impact, this girl must really have been odorific! It’s also possible to deduce that she must know she’s particularly musky and that’s the reason why she didn’t ask what smell the vampire was picking up.

Of course this is a disturbing train of thought to ride for any length of track. The mind begins to wander and before long I’m wondering whether desperate vampires are foraging in our trash looking for used tampons or pads to slake their thirst. It occurs to me that there must also be vampires working in our blood testing labs, just waiting to be finished with a sample’s tests before gulping it down. But all this is side-tracking the real reasons for this blog entry.

Human and vampire alike are capable of amazing fetes of self-delusion. The world is how we see it because we can’t accept the possibility that we might be lying to ourselves; that things are different from how we want them to be or how we think they appear. In real life, the world was shocked when a twenty six year old Anna Nicole Smith married J. Howard Marshall II who was 89 at the time. So why have they fallen for the fictional story of a ninety year old vampire falling in love with a teenage girl? It seems pretty sick to me.

Ultimately, I’m only speculating about things in the plot based on what I’ve seen in the movie. But isn’t in conceited to assume a creature whose very survival depends upon drinking blood and killing people, wouldn’t dare do such a thing to you? Doubly so, if he’s actually confessed that he wants to drink your blood. The teens on display in “Twilight” are so self-absorbed that they miss the dangers of the forest while climbing in its trees.

In that world, it’s all glimmer and magic and romance. Yet all I see as an outside observer is old, mostly dead guys, stalking jailbait and acting Emo because that’s what the kids like this generation. Or perhaps it’s just my conceit at work here? Maybe I’m over-analyzing because I think I know more than Twilight’s author. And perhaps that blinds me to the charm and relevance of this series?

What do you think? Who’s the one that’s blinded by conceit?

Almost every morning when I head into Manhattan for work, I have an hour to reflect on things as a boat carries me from Jersey to New York.

Of course one of the things I think about frequently is the vessel responsible for my safe transport across the ocean. It seems well maintained and expertly piloted, but I wonder what the likelyhood of it sinking is.

I wonder if riding a boat frequently is quietly increasing my chances of eventually winding up in the Atlantic instead of my proper destination. I’m not scared of the possibility because I’ve always been a strong swimmer. Plus, the idea of a boat malfunction seems far less life threatening than say, a commuter plane.

I’m probably most fascinated about the ocean currents. I’ve heard frequently how swimmers get swept out to sea by a powerful riptide. It conjures images of objects in space helplessly pulled to their doom by the irresistable gravity of black holes.

The mysterious dark depths of the ocean also intrigue me. I wonder whether I’d be able to stay at the surface long enough to be rescued, or if some shadowy creature from below would pull me beyond the reach of safety.

It’s all a bit morbid perhaps, but then I’ve also had similar speculation about the subway when I rode it regularly. So it’s not a big deal.

I’ve been a ferry rider for over two years now, and the worst incident I had was almost exactly a year ago. I was going to the city for my birthday and I never made it.

Mid way through my journey, some debris clogged the engine. We floated helplessly for over an hour trying to clear the blockage, then slowly sputtered back to our port of origin. It was more annoying than dangerous. Thanks to the bar on board though, the trip wasn’t all bad.

I guess my point in writing this blog entry, is that we sometimes take things for granted. Whether it’s our mode of transport or relative safety on a daily basis. Sure, maybe I’m a crackpot for dwelling on this stuff, but at least it passes the time more quickly on my boat rides.

Well, I said a couple days ago that I might change things up a bit and here’s a good way to do that. This blog post is coming to you, for the first time, from my iPhone directly.

Turns out there’s an app for that. So now I don’t have to lock myself in my office for hours at a time to slave over a new blog entry. Consequently, I’ll have no excuse for not posting more frequently. As an example, this last paragraph was typed up while riding the subway only a couple of stops.

I can’t wait to see how this application will impact my blogging. It’s truly an exciting morning, discovering this new world of possibilities.

My talent for reflection on the subtext of the world around me has put me in a weird headspace as I embark upon the final year of my thirties. I feel like a midlife crisis is due any minute now, even though I can’t imagine ever living long enough to make my thirties qualify as “mid-life.”

Part of the problem might be that my father never made it out of his forties alive. So there’s a certain amount of apprehension that comes with attempting to conquer what he couldn’t, especially since he seemed almost supernatural in his power and resolve when he was alive.

Still, I’ve never been one to be scared. I mean sure I’d get nervous sometimes, or startled by horror movies. I’ll get a sense of dread when I feel something bad is about to go down. None of that is fear though. Previously, the only true fear that registered in my memory banks was when others’ lives were on the line. When my son was battling to survive against the odds after he was born early, or when my wife was trapped in the city on 9-11-01, I know I was scared for them.

Lately though, I find myself scared for my own safety. When I go skateboarding, I worry about falling down and breaking an ankle. When I ride a bike down a hill, suddenly I’m noticing when I might be going too fast. When I was younger, it was impossible for a bike to go fast enough to scare me. Just a few years ago, I was anxious to get a motorcycle license and buy a cruising bike. Today, it doesn’t seem as appealing any more.

It’s only natural that a milestone like my fortieth birthday seems more significant. I think in my case though, it will come long after I’ve turned my corner. As I write this, it has already dawned on me that, going forward it will take more effort to keep myself alive than I’ve had to exert previously. I’m not talking about in a ‘gladiator in the ring’ sort of survival. I mean, watching what I eat, getting enough exercise but not too much, taking needed medication, etc.

This realization is accompanied by its own magical form of paranoia. “Is this going to be the steak that blocks my arteries?” will run through my head. Or maybe, “Is this pain in my arm and chest a heart attack coming on, or just muscle burn from exercising?” Plus, I sometimes wonder stuff like, “Am I ever going to get a chance to travel to Japan before I die?” It’s all unsettling. Nobody should have to live with a ticking clock haunting them.

Yet this is the situation I find myself in. So what to do? Take it as a challenge and fight my old age tooth and nail? Resign myself to antiquity and go quietly into the night? Or do I shrug with apathy and try to keep things as they are?

Well, I’ve always been bored easily. So it could very well be that I act out. I’m not talking about buying a fancy sports car or getting a hair piece. For those would indeed be classified as a “crisis.” I’m talking about erratic behavior. Maybe I’ll wear more silly clothing or dance to music that normally does nothing for me? Who knows!

I’ve gotten the ball rolling in deciding that I want to DJ again. That’s something that should introduce a new bit of excitement into my life. Music has always been a passion of mine. Like a girlfriend, we were once hot and heavy. Then the relationship fizzled for a while. Now, I feel the spark again. My latest dabbling has been the equivalent of getting to second base with this old flame of mine. Hopefully, I can go all the way again soon. Playing clubs and parties in the old days was some of the best times I ever had.

The optimist in me says that I’ve got many more “best times” ahead of me, but it will be hard to top some of my crazier memories, especially if I’m worried about avoiding a back injury or high blood pressure.

If you can’t see the embedded object below, it’s probably because you don’t have access to Google Wave content since it is still in Beta testing. All I can tell you, is that it’s really cool. If you can get an invite, email me your contact info and I’ll add you to the wave.

A demo of embedding Google Wave code within websites.

I’ve had a long and passionate love affair with the moving image. To this day, I’m a sucker for an engaging television show or an original movie idea. I love getting drawn into a fictional character’s world with the help of a talented actor. My eyes still glaze over in amazement at effective special effects. I still find myself cheering for the good guys to win. These things mean a lot to me. That’s why I was overjoyed to announce an official “movie night” at my house for the first time this week. Little did I know that my love of this media would cause the night to end in disaster.

I blame myself. My formative years were, in no small way, influenced by what I saw and heard on television. Cartoons taught me valuable lessons about the perils of being a bully. Sitcoms showed me that great timing and double-entendres were keys to the comedy kingdom. I learned from TV cops that the bad guys never win. These basic staples of popular culture were every bit as important as the four food groups when I was growing up.

Yet they were all eclipsed by the movies. Going to a theater for a showing of the latest Hollywood offering was a magical event for me. Even though my early experiences with theaters were in the 1980’s when the multiplex was steadily replacing large single-theater venues, I considered every seating a special occasion. My induction into perpetual cinema fandom was ushered in by such classics as “Raiders of the Lost Ark” and “The Empire Strikes Back.” Can you blame me for getting hooked?

When Video Cassette Recorders and cable television first became prominent, it was like someone had opened a portal between two worlds. For the first time, the magic I witnessed in a theater was available to me at home, albeit on a much smaller scale. The television could provide both the daily servings of pop culture that I’d grown accustomed to, and special events like “Ghostbusters.”

My father shared my passion. He would often fall asleep on the couch in front of the television. There was a time when he would have me rent two movies a day from the local video store until there were no more left to watch. We absorbed action, drama, foreign, comedy, even horror films.

So, as home theater technology matured, I followed it closely. My dream was to one day have my own “home theater” where I could recreate some of the childhood magic which now lived on as nostalgia in my memory.

My new home on the Jersey Shore brings me one step closer to realizing that dream. Though my living room isn’t quite a home theater, it serves my purposes; I can watch the television and movies I enjoy in the highest resolution available, with excellent surround sound.

Wanting to share that enjoyment with those around me, I sometimes forget that not everyone is as passionate about the movies as me. I announced that I was setting aside Monday nights for the purpose of screening movies for friends. To me, this was a chance to experience new films and relive the magic of classic ones we all loved. To others, it may have just been a chance to socialize.

I’m aware that moving pictures and sound are, for some people, just a way to fill the silence. They are background noise; an unimportant distraction which deserves only peripheral attention. These are the people who occupy themselves with texting, eating, or talking during a movie. They may see the story unfold before them, and fill in the details through inference, but they miss the magic. They don’t appreciate the details which make movies special.

(Feel free to skip this paragraph if you don’t want to read examples)In the original “Superman” movie, there’s a moment when Clark Kent is about to change into his iconic reds and blues. He pauses for a split second to look at a modern payphone without a phone booth surrounding it, and then speeds off to change elsewhere. His facial expression in that moment is both a joke and homage to the comic book origins of the hero. Yet it will usually be lost on those who don’t really devote all their attention to the movie. These people see Indiana Jones’ grand escape from the Nazis, but miss the little wink before it which tells us that hope is not lost. The subtleness is lost on them, so a truly great movie is “okay” or “pretty good” in their view.

To me, this attitude is tantamount to heresy because I’ve worked in the entertainment industry and know what it is to create something for people’s viewing. You want ever second, every nuance, to be appreciated. This is why theaters are dark; to eliminate every possible distraction. The subtle details in a movie are almost more important than the over-arching narrative. So it drives me nuts when I sit with people who I know are missing the bits and pieces which elevate a film to greatness.

Last night, the groups who attended my first official “movie night” decided to watch a movie from the 80’s which they all know and love; “The Princess Bride.” Their main reason for choosing this film was to share it with one friend who had never seen it before. Unfortunately, they also decided to make friendship bracelets (none for me, btw) while the movie was on. This, in addition to the snacks, drinks, and talking, diverted enough attention from the movie that the person watching it for the first time missed much of the dialog and seemed oblivious to the sight gags. Predictably, she said that she didn’t see what the big deal was, and I agreed. She didn’t see. She couldn’t see. She was busy with other things.

So in my book, I write the experience off as a disaster. Not because someone deems movies less important than I. Not, because they refused to adhere to my admittedly obsessive take on proper movie viewing etiquette. Not even because someone might have different tastes than I. It was a disaster because a wonderful, charming, funny, and well made film has been forever lost to this person. I know that she will never sit through it again, and I feel responsible for that. Our misguided attempt to show off something we enjoyed failed, because the movie never had a chance of making a good first impression under those circumstances.

In the future, maybe it’s best not to show “classics” but instead to focus on new films nobody has seen before. That way, expectations are lower. It might also help to invite people who love movies as much as me, so I don’t feel like the odd man out for my passion on the subject.

There’s a special kind of crazy required to don a costume when it isn’t Halloween. It’s the sort of crazy of which this world needs more. Whether you’re generally a dramatic personality, have a theatrical inclination, or just enjoy acting silly, it takes that extra bit of gumption to take your act public. So when such folks conspire to meet and party together, there’s a certain magic about it.

This past weekend, I attended PirateCon, a gathering of folks who choose to celebrate “International Talk Like a Pirate Day” by dressing as said swashbucklers. We were organized by an unknown party and proceeded to make our party known throughout much of lower Manhattan. If I had to guess, there were something like two hundred participants; Wonderful, creative people who were determined to have fun in the carefree tradition of legendary buccaneers.

I was lucky enough to arrive in time to watch the group grow from a handful of enthusiastic but skittish members, to a mass of energetic pirate party people. Our crew marched from one location to the next, amusing tourists and New Yorkers alike with our blatant disregard for the mundane. We cheered and sang and chanted along the way. Pirate colors brightened the bustling crowds at The High Line, Washington Square Park, and the South Street Seaport.

Everyone was friendly and kind to each other, though most were meeting for the first time. As an example, someone found my digital camera and returned it to me after seeing my photos on it. We pirates shared drinks, stories, snacks, and laughs together.

My best friend and I had arrived by boat in true pirate fashion, and left the same way. In between those two boat trips, we got to participate in a truly amazing event. Not for its turnout, or the amount of alcohol consumed; It was amazing for what it represents in us, as people.

As silly as it may be for grown people to pretend they are pirates. It’s even sillier for us to forget about such things as dressing up, pretending, and keeping our minds open to imaginative play. The British, who tend to use the English language more elegantly than we Americans, don’t call what we were wearing “costumes.” In England, people attend “fancy dress” parties. This doesn’t imply that the behavior is strange or abnormal, but simply that a bit more care has gone into deciding what will be worn. The extraordinary clothing allows us to more freely behave in a way that may be outside of our everyday persona.

It amused me when bystanders on the street asked, “Why are you dressed that way?” The implication behind that question was that there must be a good explanation for why a large group of people have decided to shun conventional attire and take to the streets as a band of pirates. The natural reply of course, was to ask them why they were dressed as they had been. In my perfect world explanations for such things would never be needed. When in doubt, everyone should just assume that the answer to such questions would be, “Because we can, and it’s fun.”

This past week, “The Beatles: Rock Band” was released to the public. Though there have been a number of discs released as “track packs” for the popular music gaming franchise, this latest offering is considered a true sequel. It offers updated graphics, new gameplay elements, and a collection of new plastic instrument controllers. More importantly though, it hopes to introduce a legendary band to a whole new audience, while also cashing in on the fond memories of those who know the Beatles work.

What follows is my review of this latest video game. I will be up front about the fact that I have not played the game extensively. So I can’t judge the subtle differences it may have on different consoles. I also haven’t experienced every single song in the game. So it’s entirely possible that I may have missed some stroke of brilliance that adds value to the overall package.

Video games are typically judged on graphics, sound, and gameplay when someone writes a review. The over-all presentation and replay value also factor in. Rarely does nostalgia or the significance of the licensed material in a game, play any role in determining how good or bad it is. For instance, Warner Brothers cartoon characters are some of the most beloved and iconic images to ever grace any gaming console, yet often games which feature them get terrible reviews because they are found lacking in all of the above-mentioned categories. So for the purpose of this review, let’s forget for a minute that I’m writing about “The Beatles.”

Let’s start with the graphics; they are absolutely beautiful. There’s a noticeable improvement over Rock Band 2’s character models, which is understandable. Since the option to play with customized characters has been removed, much more polish can be applied to the models of John, Paul, George, and Ringo. The game’s presentation is very solid. Everything has sort of an ethereal retro feel to it. Each song has its own custom video. Compared to previous games, which allowed you to play with customized band members in a wide variety of venues, it’s a significant change.

Not surprisingly, The Beatles: Rock Band sounds fantastic. During loading screens, you can hear studio chatter from the Fab Four that was previously unreleased. It should be obvious that the song collection sounds great. What isn’t as obvious is that some of the Beatles best songs are decidedly absent from this disc. Future downloadable pay content is scheduled to fill in some of the gaps though. Another thing that’s missing from this game is the ability to actually improvise on your instrument. No more freestyle drum hits at the beginning or end of songs. No more improvisation on the mic during breaks in the lyrics. Say goodbye as well, to drum fills or “big finish” segments where the whole band jams out. All you will hear from your speakers is The Beatles; nothing more, nothing less.

In every other respect, the gameplay is pretty much the same. This version of Rock Band introduces a new feature which allows up to three singers to harmonize on certain tracks. This opens up the possibility of either playing with six players or giving two of the members of your band back-up singer duties in addition to their respective instrument parts. This can be pretty fun since most of the music is fairly simplistic and a lot of the lyrics will be familiar to fans of the group.

There are a total of 45 songs to play on the disc. Compared to 58 songs in the original Rock Band and 84 songs in Rock Band 2, this is a step down. However, the quality of the music is arguably more important than having a large quantity of it. Still, replay value is going to be a problem for this game. There are only so many times you’ll want to watch the same video over and over when playing your favorite Beatles tracks. You won’t have the incentive of unlocking items or earning money to buy your characters new outfits. You won’t be able to customize the look of your band members or equipment either. You can’t add your own personal touch to the music, the performance, the band’s name or look. All you can do is tap the buttons on the controllers along with the music on the screen.

For me, that’s where the game fails. Previous Rock Band games gave you the sense that you were actually a musician who was creating music. In The Beatles: Rock Band, you just feel like you’re keying in commands which will keep the real musicians playing on your screen. It’s a subtle difference, but an important one. Self-expression is after all, the goal of any aspiring musician. The game doesn’t cater to that though. Instead it asks you to be a fan and do your part to support the band.

So to summarize: The Beatles: Rock Band is like Rock Band 2, except without the custom avatars, the improvisation, the unlockable incentives, the diversity of venues, the replay value, or the huge variety in musical styles and artists we have come to associate with this franchise. It has better graphics and sound, a new harmonizing game element, and Beatles music. It’s a sequel that offers less of what makes Rock Band great, but with plenty of Beatles greatness to make up for it. If that balances out as something you may be interested, then enjoy. I’m going to pass.

Going to a movie directed by Quentin Tarantino without expecting to see violence is like going to a George Romero movie and not expecting to see dead things. So I was well aware that there would be blood, the night I went to see “Inglourious Basterds” at a local theater. What I didn’t expect though, was to experience such a refreshing take on a subject as heavily mined for drama as World War 2. The next few paragraphs will continue my impressions of this movie without giving away the actual content of the film: spoiler free for your amusement.

The scope of World War 2 is enormous. The number of lives lost, the families affected, and the countries entangled in the battles brought about by Adolf Hitler’s quest for power, are hard to comprehend. So more often than not, we see large scale battles; hundreds of soldiers and military machines clashing with each other on the screen, in a futile attempt to convey the grand scope of it all. Tarantino’s movie takes a different tack. It shows Nazi Germany as a very personal and intimate thing. Every interaction between two human beings has depth and meaning, regardless of whether that interaction is a conversation or a baseball bat across the forehead.

The fear and hatred is brilliantly put on display in every facial expression, off-hand gesture, and pregnant pause during conversations. As both a writer and director, you’d have to have enormous faith in your actors to even attempt to put something like this up on a screen. Fortunately, I think the actors did a brilliant job. Many of them will be unknown to the viewer, but even the ones whose reputation precedes them, are convincing and likeable.

The violence too, is intimate in “Inglourious Bastards.”The audience is meant to participate in the visceral revulsion and excitement of every gunshot, knife slice, and blunt force trauma. Whether you agree with the methods or not, you will be front and center for them at every step of the film. Part of the reason for that might be so that we can appreciate the scale. The horror of a single soldier’s throat being cut is immense. When it hits you that he is but one of millions who died during that time, it’s hard not to take pause.

Of course I understand the basic gist of the film. It is, at its heart a Jewish revenge fantasy. And why the hell not? Video games taking place in WWII are over-saturating the shooter market because everyone can feel good about killing Nazis. You’d think, if the stereotype about Jews running Hollywood were true, we’d see more of these types of films in the theaters. But Tarantino is the only one seemingly brave enough to embrace the murky depths of such an undertaking. Hero stories often try to depict American soldiers as being morally superior to the enemy. Not so, here.

The Jewish Americans take great delight in slaughtering Nazis throughout the film. They demonstrate that the moral high road is not always the best path to victory. I’m not ashamed to say that I laughed and cheered as their brutal efforts unfolded before me. It was tremendously satisfying to see some suffering inflicted upon the group responsible for taking so many innocent lives.

It should be mentioned though, that “Inglourious Basterds” is not an action movie. It is, like every other Tarantino flick, a drama. It is exciting and intense at times. It’s emotional, deep, funny, and charming. Potential viewers should also know that, since this film is set in Germany, there is a lot of foreign dialogue. If subtitles are a deal-breaker for you, then this is not a film you want to see.

Personally, I’m looking forward to seeing it again. I’m sure there’s a bunch of subtle stuff I’ve missed the first time around. This movie isn’t as quotable as other Tarantino classics like “Pulp Fiction” but it’s brilliant all the same. The music is both fitting to the style of the film, and true to the director’s own quirky style.

I have a few nitpicks of the over-all story and editing choices made, but it’s tough to find something to hate in this movie. That is of course, unless you are a Nazi-sympathizing bastard.

The universe strives to maintain balance. We humans do too. It’s one of those things that you don’t necessarily need to believe in. It just is. Sometimes, we push boundaries and try to stretch our capabilities. This may result in a loss of balance which can be slight or incredibly jarring. It can also help to improve our balancing skills, which is why we do it.

As a kid, I realized I was really talented at keeping myself balanced…at least physically. (I attributed my proficiency to my large feet.) My friends and I would play games which involved balance. I can remember crossing fallen trees which bridged the gap carved by a river through local woods. I was only about nine years old at the time. Later, in Junior high school, we chased each other on elevated wooden fences which surrounded a sandbox. We tried to push each other off without falling off ourselves. In my late teens, we would go to a playground well after dark and master jumping between the highest point of the jungle gyms, knowing a slip would likely result in broken bones.

These days, I’m not nearly as interested in risking injury, yet I’m still drawn to activities which require balance. I’ve been riding skateboards since my pre-teen years. One of my first was a simple piece of wood sanded down in my father’s garage and attached to roller skate wheels. He was proud of the stuff he built for me and I didn’t appreciate any of it nearly as much as I should have at the time. Still, I did a lot of skateboarding.

I’ve rolled around on various boards for the better part of the last thirty years. Yet I was never really big on skateboarding tricks. I learned a few simple techniques for moving and balancing on a board from a book I got in my school library. That was all I needed at the time.

Since then, skateboard enthusiasts have learned how to jump, spin, and fly on their boards. Communities are building skate parks for their residents and the culture has largely been embraced by the mainstream thanks to iconic figures like Tony Hawk. Meanwhile, I’m still rolling around from point A to B without much fanfare.

Lately, since I live in a skateboarder friendly community, I’ve decided to up my game and learn some new tricks. I know what they say about “old dogs” and thank my lucky stars that I am not a dog. So I’ve been regularly visiting the skate parks with my “old school” board in hand. I try to keep up with the young kids and stretch my boundaries; to improve my balance.

The net result so far has been largely positive. Sure, I’ve sustained some scrapes and bruises, but I’ve also improved. I’ve felt the exhilaration of rolling down ramps and around bowls. I’ve achieved frightening milestones like dropping into a half-pipe. My craving for outdoor activity and exercise has also improved. As I approach my 40’s, I feel that I am accomplishing things I was remiss in not achieving sooner. I’m catching up and checking off that “to do” list of activities I’ve always wanted to try.

In fact, my life over the last year in Jersey has been defined by firsts and milestones. I’ve explored new places, tried new things, boldly undertaken new projects, and tasted new thrills. All this has made me tremendously happy and fulfilled. Every day, there’s at least one moment in which I reflect on how well things are going and smile.

So it’s no wonder that the universal balance tries to swing me in the negative direction from time to time. I expect and understand it, but that doesn’t make it any easier to get past.

Over the last two months, the car I drive has been involved in not one, but THREE traffic accidents. None of these were our fault. The first one happened when my wife was side-swiped by a van which didn’t see her in his blind spot while exiting a toll plaza. The second was when an anxious woman with a brand new car miscalculated her trajectory and clipped my rear fender while exiting her parking space behind me. The third time happened just hours ago. A man who didn’t see me coming down the street rolled through a stop sign and drove out in front of me. Even after stomping on the breaks, I managed to make contact with his rear quarter panel. It was just enough to rip off my front license plate and scratch up my front bumper.

I feel like these small annoyances are not some sort of Karmic payback for doing something bad. Since they are so relatively minor, they seem more like the price of extreme happiness. It’s like I’m being reminded that there is some not-so-good stuff that comes along with the good, and that one without the other will never sustain balance.

My optimism is not swayed. I continue to enjoy my life knowing that it is finite. I remain determined to do all those things I’ve always wanted to. I look eagerly for new opportunities and experiences. I anticipate exciting adventures ahead as I continue to try and improve my balance.