A friend has asked me to write five good things about myself before I go to sleep. They could be about anything, or nothing. They could be ironic. They could be hard to accept. One thing they cannot be, however, is made-up. I have to tell the truth, which can be a little scary this time of night. This time of night, good things are hard to come by. But, in the words of OK Go, here it goes again...
Five good things about Matt Titus:
1. He never wants to sing what is written, but invents his own descant instead.
2. He finds life's answers in the proper mixture of an amaretto sour.
3. He knows when to cheer and when to boo, and to never, NEVER, do the wave.
4. He is 2-2 against Brian Nelson at Madden, and 4-1 against Mark Wegener.
5. There is nothing he won't do for a friend.
Yeah, but...
For me, the "Yeah, but..." is always the kicker. There's a "Yeah, but..." for all five items listed above:
Yeah, but...
1. Nobody likes his descants but him.
2. Alcohol is a pretty lonely place to be finding life's answers.
3. There really is no "Yeah, but..." here. The wave is purely, absolutely evil.
4. It's Madden.
5. Friends don't ask for much.
It's a mental exercise, one that requires years of practice before it can be perfected. The "Yeah, but..." is a device meant to undermine, destroy, and demolish any good that came before it. It's very effective, when done correctly. The trick is to never miss a beat. The moment you betray even the slightest bit of good, you have to quash it the very next instant. If you don't, then you allow the good to win. You allow it to grow. And, eventually, you may even convince yourself that you, yes, YOU, truly are a good person.
But you know better. I know better. If you or I truly were good people, our friends would come to us more often. They would come to us and say things like, "Matt, I have a problem. What do you think?" or, "Matt, don't tell anybody, but there's something you should know about me," or, "Matt, you're really being a horse's ass, but let's go have a drink anyway." These are things a friend says to the good people they know, and the way you know whether you're a good person or not is whether your friends say these kinds of things to you.
There are a lot of things I don't like about me. Maybe I could make them go away if I had the will power, but it's going to take a lot more will power than I've demonstrated so far.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Friday, November 4, 2011
2011 World Champion St. Louis Cardinals!!!!
WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!
Here it is, one week after the most amazing Game 6 in World Series history, and that is still as articulate as I can be. Tony La Russa, the manager I simultaneously loathed and admired, is retired. His replacement could be anyone from his own third base coach to a Hall of Fame Chicago Cub to another 2-time World Series champion. Albert Pujols, the face of the Cardinals for the last 10 years, is a free agent. Any one of the other 29 major league teams could snatch him up if they're willing to pay him what he deserves. And yet, with my favorite team in such a state of flux, there is a happy center. No matter how downtrodden or depressed I may appear on the outside, I will carry with me a deep and abiding glow through the bitter cold of the offseason. The St. Louis Cardinals are World Series Champions.
Some good YouTube videos worth cataloging:
Game 6:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=th--PlmGPZY
http://youtu.be/1Mh0FvnOM1A
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jJFMYlKdMz8 (season highlights)
Fan Reaction vids:
http://youtu.be/vg_Bxj-7fnc
http://youtu.be/5vGp6-NSku4
http://youtu.be/nnRNo2Avtcw
http://youtu.be/aI_e7AGpiRA (Rangers fans' reaction - Game 6)
http://youtu.be/a2rokgHKgbo (Part 1)
http://youtu.be/KZ3pSVJw_VI (Part 2)
From the Stadium:
http://youtu.be/uHXCGL5HUDs
http://youtu.be/DFnCO00kHjs
http://youtu.be/m-EAVxkT_uc
http://youtu.be/78H3Jqy74Eo
http://youtu.be/INV9pJk3hcg
WINNERS!
http://youtu.be/ZXmErIYcHzk
http://youtu.be/UH60-hKiLNA
http://youtu.be/2pIQlzxGplQ
http://youtu.be/HA927QXTTIQ
http://youtu.be/28-1kb2Jk0s
Here it is, one week after the most amazing Game 6 in World Series history, and that is still as articulate as I can be. Tony La Russa, the manager I simultaneously loathed and admired, is retired. His replacement could be anyone from his own third base coach to a Hall of Fame Chicago Cub to another 2-time World Series champion. Albert Pujols, the face of the Cardinals for the last 10 years, is a free agent. Any one of the other 29 major league teams could snatch him up if they're willing to pay him what he deserves. And yet, with my favorite team in such a state of flux, there is a happy center. No matter how downtrodden or depressed I may appear on the outside, I will carry with me a deep and abiding glow through the bitter cold of the offseason. The St. Louis Cardinals are World Series Champions.
Some good YouTube videos worth cataloging:
Game 6:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=th--PlmGPZY
http://youtu.be/1Mh0FvnOM1A
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jJFMYlKdMz8 (season highlights)
Fan Reaction vids:
http://youtu.be/vg_Bxj-7fnc
http://youtu.be/5vGp6-NSku4
http://youtu.be/nnRNo2Avtcw
http://youtu.be/aI_e7AGpiRA (Rangers fans' reaction - Game 6)
http://youtu.be/a2rokgHKgbo (Part 1)
http://youtu.be/KZ3pSVJw_VI (Part 2)
From the Stadium:
http://youtu.be/uHXCGL5HUDs
http://youtu.be/DFnCO00kHjs
http://youtu.be/m-EAVxkT_uc
http://youtu.be/78H3Jqy74Eo
http://youtu.be/INV9pJk3hcg
WINNERS!
http://youtu.be/ZXmErIYcHzk
http://youtu.be/UH60-hKiLNA
http://youtu.be/2pIQlzxGplQ
http://youtu.be/HA927QXTTIQ
http://youtu.be/28-1kb2Jk0s
Thursday, August 4, 2011
My last night in this house
This should be a happy post, but I don't think that's possible tonight.
I can at least start with the positive. With the financial situation finally resolved, I am cleared to move in to my new apartment! I think what I most look forward to is cooking for me and nobody else. There are so many things I want to get back to making...my Andouille Sausage Alfredo...homemade grilled chicken quesadillas...stuffed shells and ravioli...
But who am I kidding? I could have been cooking all of that while living with my parents, but I didn't. If I really wanted to cook, I could have. They have no objection against cooking.
I read a couple days ago that, in other modernized countries, the children continue to live with their families, even under the same roof, until well into adulthood. Some families in China never move out, they simply stay together and look after each other all the days of their lives. As the family grows, the bonds between each of its members grow even stronger. As a cultural statement, Americans seem to believe that if you still live with your parents much past the age of 21, you're a leach. This is certainly how I have felt over the last 2 1/2 years. With each day that has elapsed since I moved back in with my parents after the campaign, I have only grown more bitter and resentful toward the good people who raised me. This is not good for our family, it is not good for my parents, and it is not good for me.
Why should I be resentful, you ask? Why should I harbor anything but gratitude and good will toward my parents? Don't get me wrong, I still love them. Sometimes I even like them.
As I write this, I catch myself dismissing many of my complaints about life under my father's roof. He's been very good to me, I'm thinking. Not all fathers are this good to their gay sons. Not all fathers would give their gay sons houseroom into their mid-twenties after knowing for years they even had gay sons. I am telling myself that it could always have been worse.
But...
Last summer, I went on a date. One lousy, test-the-waters, try-like-hell-to-be-a-normal-twenty-something date. It wasn't all it was cracked up to be. He wasn't much of a guy...seemed nice at first, but then you get to know him... Anyway, long story short, I was kicked out of the house. In a move I will never forgive, my dad told me if I was going to be gay, I wasn't going to be gay in his home. I could live my "gay lifestyle" somewhere else.
Well, obviously, I caved. I agreed to go back in the closet for as long as I lived at home. The stronger thing to do, I thought, was to tell him to fuck off and go find somewhere to live my gay lifestyle in peace. But since I knew that he would never change, I decided that I had to be the one to change if I wanted to keep any relationship with my father at all. I still loved the man and while I may not like to admit it, I did (and do) owe him a lot. Plus it would just kill my mom. I mean, it would just kill her. So I kept silent, and in my silence, resentment grew.
I did resent being told to go back into the closet, but not for very long. After all, that was my choice. I didn't have to go back to his house. He doesn't understand what making that kind of sacrifice means. There's no way my father, a straight man who grew up in rural Illinois of the 1970s in the construction industry, could ever know what going back into the closet would mean to a modern gay man who had already come out once. No, I resented him for making it impossible for me to ever properly repay the hospitality he'd shown me. No matter what, I would always be in his debt. Maybe some of that's my fault too, since I'd shown the willingness to accept his demands from the start. But as anyone who has lived or worked with my father will attest, he is a very hard man to please.
Getting out of this house is not only the best thing I could do for myself, but it's also the best thing I could do to save the relationship between my father and I. When I worked on the campaign, there were always several states between us, and we got along great! Now I have to hope that living on the other side of town can work just as well.
...Are you still reading? If so, congratulations. I didn't mean to write this much when I sat down here. But it occurs to me that at no time over the past 2 1/2 years had I ever actually written any of this down. So I hope you will indulge me this exercise in vanity on this, the eve of my next independence day.
I can at least start with the positive. With the financial situation finally resolved, I am cleared to move in to my new apartment! I think what I most look forward to is cooking for me and nobody else. There are so many things I want to get back to making...my Andouille Sausage Alfredo...homemade grilled chicken quesadillas...stuffed shells and ravioli...
But who am I kidding? I could have been cooking all of that while living with my parents, but I didn't. If I really wanted to cook, I could have. They have no objection against cooking.
I read a couple days ago that, in other modernized countries, the children continue to live with their families, even under the same roof, until well into adulthood. Some families in China never move out, they simply stay together and look after each other all the days of their lives. As the family grows, the bonds between each of its members grow even stronger. As a cultural statement, Americans seem to believe that if you still live with your parents much past the age of 21, you're a leach. This is certainly how I have felt over the last 2 1/2 years. With each day that has elapsed since I moved back in with my parents after the campaign, I have only grown more bitter and resentful toward the good people who raised me. This is not good for our family, it is not good for my parents, and it is not good for me.
Why should I be resentful, you ask? Why should I harbor anything but gratitude and good will toward my parents? Don't get me wrong, I still love them. Sometimes I even like them.
As I write this, I catch myself dismissing many of my complaints about life under my father's roof. He's been very good to me, I'm thinking. Not all fathers are this good to their gay sons. Not all fathers would give their gay sons houseroom into their mid-twenties after knowing for years they even had gay sons. I am telling myself that it could always have been worse.
But...
Last summer, I went on a date. One lousy, test-the-waters, try-like-hell-to-be-a-normal-twenty-something date. It wasn't all it was cracked up to be. He wasn't much of a guy...seemed nice at first, but then you get to know him... Anyway, long story short, I was kicked out of the house. In a move I will never forgive, my dad told me if I was going to be gay, I wasn't going to be gay in his home. I could live my "gay lifestyle" somewhere else.
Well, obviously, I caved. I agreed to go back in the closet for as long as I lived at home. The stronger thing to do, I thought, was to tell him to fuck off and go find somewhere to live my gay lifestyle in peace. But since I knew that he would never change, I decided that I had to be the one to change if I wanted to keep any relationship with my father at all. I still loved the man and while I may not like to admit it, I did (and do) owe him a lot. Plus it would just kill my mom. I mean, it would just kill her. So I kept silent, and in my silence, resentment grew.
I did resent being told to go back into the closet, but not for very long. After all, that was my choice. I didn't have to go back to his house. He doesn't understand what making that kind of sacrifice means. There's no way my father, a straight man who grew up in rural Illinois of the 1970s in the construction industry, could ever know what going back into the closet would mean to a modern gay man who had already come out once. No, I resented him for making it impossible for me to ever properly repay the hospitality he'd shown me. No matter what, I would always be in his debt. Maybe some of that's my fault too, since I'd shown the willingness to accept his demands from the start. But as anyone who has lived or worked with my father will attest, he is a very hard man to please.
Getting out of this house is not only the best thing I could do for myself, but it's also the best thing I could do to save the relationship between my father and I. When I worked on the campaign, there were always several states between us, and we got along great! Now I have to hope that living on the other side of town can work just as well.
...Are you still reading? If so, congratulations. I didn't mean to write this much when I sat down here. But it occurs to me that at no time over the past 2 1/2 years had I ever actually written any of this down. So I hope you will indulge me this exercise in vanity on this, the eve of my next independence day.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Because the world is run by the man
Oh, you don't know the man??
Today, the man is the Student Account department at my school. They are a collection of ladies who, perhaps not themselves as people but certainly as bureaucratic drones, have a lot to say about how my financial aid money should be spent. To make a very long story short, I won't be moving in to my new place until next Friday at the earliest. Yeah, I'm pissed.
I know it's not their fault...they think they're doing the right thing, zero-ing out all my accounts and so forth. Theirs is the problem with a lot of the public (and private) bureaucracies that have become too large to be useful...the right hand has no clue what the left hand is doing. I have more money coming down the pipe. It will pay for all my debts to the school. What was leftover from this round of loans, then, was going to pay for my lease. These sweet-sounding, Midwest-nice ladies on the phone at Student Accounts didn't know about the second round of student loans coming later next month, so they and their actuarial overlords just gobbled up everything now, including my rent money. Ironically, this is what I've been jamming to in my car all day...
Now I guess it's all snark.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Well shit.
ESPN: 11-player, 3-team deal sends Cardinals CF Colby Rasmus to Blue Jays, White Sox SP Edwin Jackson to Cardinals, and Jays 3B Mark Teahen to the Sox. So the Toronto Blue Jays just turned 4 spare parts into a 24-year old CF with ballooning talent. UUUUUUGH!
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
Hot Stove
I know at least one fan will be highly disappointed if the Cards trade Colby Rasmus.
Personally, I wouldn't mind it, so long as we get quality in return. The Rays have reportedly been interested in Colby for a while now, and they have a wealth of young pitchers. I especially like Jeremy Hellickson, currently a starter for the major-league ballclub with a record of 9-7 in 18 starts and a FIP (Fielding Independent Pitching...a more accurate measurement of a pitcher's success than the traditional Earned Run Average) of 4.42 in his rookie year, and Matt Moore, the Rays' stud prospect just recently promoted to the AAA minor-league club. Hellickson is probably the likelier candidate...lower ceiling than Moore and a couple years older.
Colby's stats on the year don't knock you down. His OPS (On-Base Plus Slugging Average) is sitting just above MLB-average at .753 while his BABIP (Batting Average on Balls in Play) is .284, a full 70 points lower than his season mark last year. Some of his troubles this year can be explained by luck...he's hitting fewer line drives and more ground balls this year, but he is also getting a lot fewer homers out of his fly balls. With 14 doubles and a whopping 6 triples on the season, the power is there...it's just not producing runs like it did last year.
Honestly, if we do wind up trading Colby for another starter, we'll probably just be trading one worrisome problem for another. Adding a starter would send Kyle McClellan back to the bullpen, so that's a plus, but unfortunately we don't have another stud centerfielder to take Colby's place. Jon Jay saw his production take a major hit last year when he became the everyday rightfielder in Ryan Ludwick's absence. I like the Chief Justice coming off the bench (pun intended) but not in an everyday role.
On a happier note, Westbrook performed beautifully tonight, pitching out of every jam he got himself into. This recent stretch of his where he has showed more confidence in his breaking and off-speed pitches has been fun to watch. He's locating the ball much better now than earlier in the year, keeping it down to avoid careless mistakes that wind up getting rocked out of the park. Albert's homer tonight was a homer, no matter what Rick Horton says. And I am choosing to ignore any news of Berkman's shoulder until the mothership tells me otherwise.
This is Jax, the basset hound pup with the adorably floppy ears. He belongs to a fraternity brother of mine who was out of town today. He asked me to come dogsitting, and really, with a face like that, who could refuse?
No Hot Stove stuff tomorrow unless there are new developments...
Personally, I wouldn't mind it, so long as we get quality in return. The Rays have reportedly been interested in Colby for a while now, and they have a wealth of young pitchers. I especially like Jeremy Hellickson, currently a starter for the major-league ballclub with a record of 9-7 in 18 starts and a FIP (Fielding Independent Pitching...a more accurate measurement of a pitcher's success than the traditional Earned Run Average) of 4.42 in his rookie year, and Matt Moore, the Rays' stud prospect just recently promoted to the AAA minor-league club. Hellickson is probably the likelier candidate...lower ceiling than Moore and a couple years older.
Colby's stats on the year don't knock you down. His OPS (On-Base Plus Slugging Average) is sitting just above MLB-average at .753 while his BABIP (Batting Average on Balls in Play) is .284, a full 70 points lower than his season mark last year. Some of his troubles this year can be explained by luck...he's hitting fewer line drives and more ground balls this year, but he is also getting a lot fewer homers out of his fly balls. With 14 doubles and a whopping 6 triples on the season, the power is there...it's just not producing runs like it did last year.
Honestly, if we do wind up trading Colby for another starter, we'll probably just be trading one worrisome problem for another. Adding a starter would send Kyle McClellan back to the bullpen, so that's a plus, but unfortunately we don't have another stud centerfielder to take Colby's place. Jon Jay saw his production take a major hit last year when he became the everyday rightfielder in Ryan Ludwick's absence. I like the Chief Justice coming off the bench (pun intended) but not in an everyday role.
On a happier note, Westbrook performed beautifully tonight, pitching out of every jam he got himself into. This recent stretch of his where he has showed more confidence in his breaking and off-speed pitches has been fun to watch. He's locating the ball much better now than earlier in the year, keeping it down to avoid careless mistakes that wind up getting rocked out of the park. Albert's homer tonight was a homer, no matter what Rick Horton says. And I am choosing to ignore any news of Berkman's shoulder until the mothership tells me otherwise.
This is Jax, the basset hound pup with the adorably floppy ears. He belongs to a fraternity brother of mine who was out of town today. He asked me to come dogsitting, and really, with a face like that, who could refuse?
No Hot Stove stuff tomorrow unless there are new developments...
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
I'd rather be at the ballpark...
Busch Stadium...baseball heaven.
Every time I go to a baseball game, I buy two things: A scorecard and a hot dog. Sometimes two hot dogs. But that's really all I need. I guess you could call me a fanatic minimalist. I don't need beer so badly as to pay a whole hour's wages for just one. I don't need to visit the team store and drop an entire paycheck for a windbreaker. I certainly don't need those ridiculous phosphorescent slushy-drinks that dangle from the vendor's rack like my dad's collection of '80s neckties. Just give me a simple lineup card and a sky clear for baseball.
I wasn't at a baseball game today. I was at work, which really didn't make today much different from so many other days this summer. I work at a fake Mexican restaurant for white people who like to think they're cultured. The food comes from a company called "U.S. Foods." The place is owned by a native Iranian who moved here after the Shah was deposed. The closest we've ever come to hiring an actual Mexican was one guy who was half-Cuban, but he was an asshole, so he didn't last very long.
I think some of the servers don't trust me like they used to. A couple of them have been watching me much more closely when they come to get their tips, and a few others are just yelling at me a lot more. One of the other hosts noticed this last Friday and asked me what I must've done to get them so riled up. To be absolutely clear, I don't steal tips. I don't work for tips, but if I did, I wouldn't be working in this place because the customers are cheap. It's probably because the customers are so cheap that a couple of the servers are growing more paranoid.
It's not a glamorous job by any means, but it pays for my car and my phone. Student loans cover the rest. I'm moving into a new place next week, closer to campus and in a nicer neighborhood. Which reminds me...I still need to find a desk and a bed frame before next Monday...the desk would at least give me a proper place to write my pedagogy papers, and I'm sure a bed frame would be much more impressive to any gentleman callers than just a twin mattress on the floor...
The gentlemen haven't been calling lately. It's just been a long(ish) line of douchebags typical of the rural Illinois gay scene. I think when classes pick up again I'm just gonna have to grit my teeth and look for a guy from Chicago. He'll probably be a Cubs fan...seems like they all are...but hopefully he'll have one or two redeeming qualities, like a proper tenor range or a tasteful sensibility toward beer.
The Cards play Houston again tomorrow, Westbrook on the mound. I won't be sleeping easy tonight...
Every time I go to a baseball game, I buy two things: A scorecard and a hot dog. Sometimes two hot dogs. But that's really all I need. I guess you could call me a fanatic minimalist. I don't need beer so badly as to pay a whole hour's wages for just one. I don't need to visit the team store and drop an entire paycheck for a windbreaker. I certainly don't need those ridiculous phosphorescent slushy-drinks that dangle from the vendor's rack like my dad's collection of '80s neckties. Just give me a simple lineup card and a sky clear for baseball.
I wasn't at a baseball game today. I was at work, which really didn't make today much different from so many other days this summer. I work at a fake Mexican restaurant for white people who like to think they're cultured. The food comes from a company called "U.S. Foods." The place is owned by a native Iranian who moved here after the Shah was deposed. The closest we've ever come to hiring an actual Mexican was one guy who was half-Cuban, but he was an asshole, so he didn't last very long.
I think some of the servers don't trust me like they used to. A couple of them have been watching me much more closely when they come to get their tips, and a few others are just yelling at me a lot more. One of the other hosts noticed this last Friday and asked me what I must've done to get them so riled up. To be absolutely clear, I don't steal tips. I don't work for tips, but if I did, I wouldn't be working in this place because the customers are cheap. It's probably because the customers are so cheap that a couple of the servers are growing more paranoid.
It's not a glamorous job by any means, but it pays for my car and my phone. Student loans cover the rest. I'm moving into a new place next week, closer to campus and in a nicer neighborhood. Which reminds me...I still need to find a desk and a bed frame before next Monday...the desk would at least give me a proper place to write my pedagogy papers, and I'm sure a bed frame would be much more impressive to any gentleman callers than just a twin mattress on the floor...
The gentlemen haven't been calling lately. It's just been a long(ish) line of douchebags typical of the rural Illinois gay scene. I think when classes pick up again I'm just gonna have to grit my teeth and look for a guy from Chicago. He'll probably be a Cubs fan...seems like they all are...but hopefully he'll have one or two redeeming qualities, like a proper tenor range or a tasteful sensibility toward beer.
The Cards play Houston again tomorrow, Westbrook on the mound. I won't be sleeping easy tonight...
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