Saturday was one of those open the windows turn on the record kind of days, so that’s exactly what I did. My roommate, who will always remain nameless (especially when discussing The Bachelor or The Bachelorette), and I listened to a few albums, including Hi Infidelity from REO Speedwagon. The record has great songs on it like “Don’t Let Him Go” and “Take It On the Run.” There’s another song on there that sparked some converstation between Unnamed Guy #1 (my roommate). You can listen to the song here:
The lyrics ask, “Should I follow my head or follow my heart?” My roommate and I decided the best option is to balance the two because if you only follow your head, you could end up exhausted, bored and alone. But if you follow your heart only, you could end up poor, homeless and jaded. By tempering your decisions with thought and emotion, you could end up wealthy, comfortable, happy and satisfied (but of course, there are exceptions to every rule). What about in dating or marriage relationships; should we follow our hearts or our heads? Is there a happy medium? Does this question yield different answers in a business scenario? Comment below, and as always… thanks for reading!
Apathy in America: To respect our flag or not?
Disrespecting the American flag is a relatively new phenomenon. It was only in the late 60s/early 70s that burning the American flag became popular among Vietnam War protesters. 
This practice was illegal, but since then has been covered under the rights of the 1st Amendment. Even in 2011, the question remains whether it’s the people’s right to burn the flag. Do laws against flag desecration violate free speech? That’s the crucial issue at the heart of the battle which continues today. For the last few decades, the Supreme Court has consistently ruled that flag desecration is covered under the 1st Amendment; free speech.
While I admire the passion, I cannot agree that burning the flag is, in any way, right or acceptable. What concerns me more, though, is that a lot of Americans are apathetic towards the flag. They don’t burn it, but they don’t fly it either. This has become more and more apparent to me in the mundane task of driving to and from work. It began one day when I saw a flag laying in the middle of a 4 lane road. It was trampled, run over, broken and torn. I wondered how it got there and why it was still there. Who was the lazy or disrespectful person careless enough to leave it laying there? Then I realized I was miles down the road, and had done nothing about it. I was careless and lazy. I blamed someone else for the very same character I showed. Since then, my life hasn’t dramatically changed. I didn’t have an awakening and join the military like a lot of people did after September 11, 2001. There was no big epiphany about how I should run for office or vote more. But I did make a heartfelt commitment to revolt against apathy and lazy disrespect. I won’t contribute to the decline of America, because it’s not the government’s fault. We can blame politicians, we can complain about the President, taxes, or war but change won’t happen until our apathy does. And I can tell you this, it won’t be the big things that change the country- a new President, going to war or not going to war, the Senate, the House, running for office, joining the military, protesting or burning a flag- it’ll be the little chances we have to reject our 1st Amendment rights and spend our energy on something bigger than ourselves. For me, it’s picking up an American flag whenever I see one on the ground. It’s my own way to respect the flag, honor those that fight under it, and perhaps contribute to a new American phenomenon.
click here for my post featuring highlights of Nashville, including the Tennessee state flag.
New Hope and Strong Threads
The sun rises on a flag flying
once torn, faded but still flying.
The storm came and whipped it around.
Still dripping from the night, but not backing down.
Emerging from the rumble
with breaks and bruises,
heartache and trouble
that nobody chooses.
Color restored, waving in the wind
watching my 11,786th day begin.
Strong threads and new hope.
She has my heart no more
than the breeze it takes from still to soar.
On her way to the seventh floor
like waves crashing on the shore,
the tide of something new.
The song I thought included her
but she’s not even in verse two.
A new future I see now.
What I thought not possible came true somehow.
A heart that’s free and a busy mind
inside a boy curious to find
all God has planned.
The one, the dream; I know she’s out there;
She’s got blonde or brown and long or short hair.
Ok, I don’t know who she is or where she is or what she does.
But soon her and him and I and she will become we and our and us.
We’ll get on the love bus.
We won’t cuss.
We might cuss.
We will trust.
We will definitely trust.
I love her already, I do know who she is.
Lover of all things good, a her that wants to be his.
I’ll be patient in waiting till the day we meet.
Till the sun sets on us at the beach.
The storms may come, let’s beat them instead.
Flying side by side with…
new hope and strong threads.
This Was Not A Date: After the Final Tulip
It’s been almost two full days. More information about the non-date date has come to my attention that you need to know, it’s only fair that you have the whole story. So take a journey with me, won’t you? If you need to get caught up before we move on, click here.
Now that you’re caught up, you’re probably wondering what’s up with that guy that pulled her aside, right? Well, I’ll get to that so sit tight. Let’s start with why we met up in the first place, basketball. She and I have only been friends for a short time, a lot of our conversations centering around basketball since both her favorite team and mine were still in the tournament. They both happened to play the same night, one the early game and one the late game Friday night. So would it be cool to meet up and watch the games? Sure. I mean, I was going to watch Florida State either way, it was just a matter of where. So she invited me to watch with her at Buffalo Wild Wings in Smyrna, a 30 minute drive from where I was. After stopping to pick up the tulips, I pushed the pedal to the metal so I wouldn’t miss much of the first half. I hastily pulled into a parking spot, decided to leave the tulips in the car and went inside. I found her sitting at a table near the bar. Good seats with a view of both games on television at the time. Once we hugged hello, I settled in, but soon realized I forgot my wallet in the car. I told her that, and as I went to retrieve it, she asked if the wallet thing was a trick so I could leave if I didn’t like her. You know, “Hey I forgot my wallet!” then I exit and never come back. I said, “what kind of guys do you go on dates with?” I would never do anything like that. Was that a signal this night would not go well? I don’t know.
I returned with the wallet. We went through the normal “get to know you” type questions, even following up on conversations we’d had in the previous few days. Important note to the reader: I’m not in relationships to play games. I know what I’m looking for and where I want to end up. This girl had enough going that I was interested in finding out more. And by “had enough going” I mean she was Asian. Ever since my trips to Vietnam, I’ve been slightly bent towards Asian women, and this girl is Thai. She had a great smile and little freckles under her eyes. I’m a sucker for freckles. She was kind and sometimes said my name when she talked to me, ie. “Uh oh, Florida State’s losing by four, Ben.” I found that flattering and disarming for some reason. I guess it’s true, people love hearing their own name spoken. Anyway, the night started off well. Then I ordered root beer.
She had a tall drink in front of her, not her first of the night, and not her last. I don’t drink alcohol, it’s not something I’ve ever enjoyed. I will, on occasion, do a shot or two but those occasions are rare and only with people I trust. Root beer was my drink of choice and the night went on. Our conversation slowly gave way to the basketball on television. I wasn’t concerned except that while our words decreased, her body language was in all caps. It was becoming more and more clear that something was not to her liking. We were sitting beside each other in order to face the projection screens, however she slowly shifted away and even rested her head in her hands, completely blocking her face. How am I supposed to have a conversation with that? She excused herself to the restroom a couple of times, I blamed it on the alcohol. The second time she took a potty break, she was gone for at least 20 minutes. I thought she left, the first embarrassing feeling of the night. Looking back, I wish she did leave. But she returned and the silence continued. It was so obvious that something was just not clicking when I tested my hunch. I asked her a few questions and without an ounce of thought, her answer was “no.” Ok, tell me you’re not having fun and let’s end it. Don’t just disengage and stop trying. Again, I don’t know what flipped her switch, but it was flipped and she was not the same person I sat down with earlier. We kept watching the games (I wasn’t about to leave when the Seminoles game was still on). Then the oddest thing happened. A guy approached her, talked quitely, then walked away.
It was like a movie script. And she played her part by excusing herself to chat with him for about 5 minutes at his table. I was very much taken off guard. Honestly, I didn’t know how to react but adrenaline began coursing through my veins as I wrote the rest of the script in my head. Looking back, I’m unsure if I was more confused by the guy for doing that, or angry at her for leaving our table to chat with him at his. I had zero confidence after that, feeling like everyone there was in on a joke and the joke was me. I’m so glad the English language has words for guys like him and girls like her. I used the time we spent not talking to brush up on these words. Maybe I should’ve stopped being a Christian for a few minutes and let both of them have a piece of my mind. I would’ve if someone had a camera… and an escape route, I mean who knows, he could’ve had a knife to overcompensate for his little body. Safety is a big concern, so I stayed a Christian the rest of the night. Once the Florida State game finished, I was ready to leave. That’s when our waitress Christy took about 45 more minutes to take care of the checks. We chatted a bit more, but by this time I was like, “uugggghhhh.” And I never use u and g and h like that. Eventually the food and beverages were paid for and we walked out. We hugged and said goodbye, both knowing this would never happen again. The next morning I sent her a kind email thanking her for the time spent, but also congratulating her on being my newest pet peeve. Move over people that turn left from the center lane, “Freckles of Fury” just took over #1! OK, I didn’t tell her that, I just wished her well on finding what she’s looking for and said I’d cheer for UNC when they faced Kentucky later that weekend. I also asked about the guy, deciding I deserve an explanation. Her response:
The guy was actually married and pulled me aside to make sure everything was ok. I was surprised myself. I wish you luck as well Ben and hope you make that special connection with someone soon. Thanks for the UNC support!
Well, guess what Fury, the jokes on you… I cheered for Kentucky!
The End.
This Was Not A Date
It finished with a 20 minute ride home shortly after midnight and the scent from tulips riding shotgun filling up the cab of my car. I don’t even remember if I turned on the radio, but I have a crystal clear memory of looking up to the dark starry sky hanging over Interstate 24 and laughing, asking God, “Did you just see that!?” I’m assuming he was aware that not long before my rhetorical yet not-so-rhetorical question I was sitting in a random restaurant in Smyrna, Tennessee. Where is Smyrna, I’m sure you’re dying to know. Drive Southeast from Nashville on I-24, exit 66B and you’re there. It’s a developing little town with stores and structures that are all less than 5 or 10 years old. To call it a suburb of Nashville is still an upgrade, but it’s not a bad little place, and not far away from the downtown entertainment of Music City. There’s a Buffalo Wild Wings off of Sam Ridley Parkway, and that’s where I sat for at least 30 minutes waiting to give my credit card to Christy, the waitress. She brought the checks by and yes, they were separate checks. This night did not begin as a date and it sure as hell never became one. I’m a gentleman, but you’ll know when I take you on a date. There won’t be any doubt. Christy failed to circle back around to pick up our forms of payment. The most difficult 30 minutes I’ve ever suffered through, and I survived Hurricane Andrew, the worst hurricane to hit the States up to that time. If I could go back and lay in the hallway with a mattress on top of me, desperately holding on to Belle’s collar, I would. Well, I would if it meant I could time travel away from Buffalo’s sitting across from “Freckles of Fury.” On the exterior, she was very attractive. A petite Asian girl with a great smile. But at this point, while we were waiting for Christy to return, it had probably been an hour or so since Fury smiled. I take that back, she smiled quite a bit in her conversations with people dining nearby. Her friendliness, in fact, was the first and last straw that compelled me to ask Christy for the checks.
Fury confessed that she frequents this Buffalos often because in Smyrna, what else is there to do? So she’s made a few friends around the bar. I’m being completely genuine in applauding that behavior. Friends are fantastic people. But I realized I was the odd man out. I wasn’t anyone’s friend there… all to clear when I looked around. Everyone was cheering for Kentucky, Ohio State or North Carolina. Me? Florida State. Remember that commercial when the Dolphin fan jumps up and claps in a sea of Buffalo Bills fans? Now you get it. And this was more than basketball. As the veil was lifted, I saw the glances from her “friends,” accompanied with whispers, laughter, and a unanimous agreement that I was the worst thing since fanny packs (which are awesome, by the way). So there we sat, me slightly interested in Fury, and throwing up a final attempt to make a connection. Hoping for a buzzer beater, I asked her a few questions that, with any normal human, would lead to more conversation. However, each was shot down with a quick and thoughtless, “no.” Rejected like a bad jump shot. It was then I realized she was more interested in everyone else, and even more importantly, this chick was annoying. But I’m glad she has bar friends because those are the friendships that last. So I asked Christy for the checks.
My concern about the success of the night was slowly becoming more important, but only after it was raised to threat level orange (the highest of all threat levels). Like a stinky Vietnamese hotel bed sheet, the story unfolded. I can say that because I’ve been to Vietnam (don’t spend the night on the boats in Ha Long Bay, that’s all I’m saying). Fury and I were at our table for about an hour and a half, sharing a basket of cheesesticks, when frat guy turned professional d-bag approached and chatted quitely with Fury, on her outside shoulder away from me. Is this really happening? Is this 5 foot 4 guy really doing this? Questions answered as he walked away and Fury turns to me and says, “I’ll be right back.” She goes and chats at a table with frat-bag. Of course, I was so embarrassed and yet, boiling mad. Ten years ago, I would not have handled this well on the spot. But I’m much wiser now, so upon her return and attempt at an explanation, I calmly said, “You don’t have to explain anything to me.” I kept watching my Noles but inside I was Evander Holyfield and Shorty McDeuche was taking a beating like a punching bag. That was the first visible sign this night was not going well.
Up to that point I was doing pretty OK. Perhaps I should’ve been more decisive when she all but accused me of being a terrible dog owner. Perhaps I should’ve taken note when she kept responding “What?” when I offered a question. Perhaps I should’ve taken secret option 3 when she thought it odd that I ordered root beer. Oh, option 1 was stick around. Option 2 was leave. Secret option 3 was toss the drink in her face and say, “My root beer brings all the girls to the yard!” then stomp out. I chose option 1 and it was all down hill after that. In my defense, I put myself out there. I met up with a girl and hoped for the dream. I didn’t know it would go the way it did. Success or failure is always on the table, and it’s impossible to know which will win. So that’s why, early in the evening, I jumped in my car and drove to Smyrna, stopping at a flower store on the way to pick up her favorites. Tulips.
click here for “This Is Not A Date: After the Final Tulip”
(further explanation of this non-date.)
Out of the Wilderness 