Salut, Paris

So, as my video post explained before, I ended up switching everything up and flying directly to Paris from Salt Lake. Looking back on everything, I'm convinced that this would have been the easier solution from the beginning...I can't remember why we chose Brussels, except that it may have been cheaper at the time.
First of all, let's rewind and talk about business class. I was told that once you flew business internationally, you'd never go back to coach. Unfortunately, my inclination to dirt cheap travel and my pocketbook tell me differently, but my body, mind and soul completely agree. I felt, at first, more out of place there than I did when I accidentally walked into a black-tie event in my speedo (you're right, it never happened, but IMAGINE how I would have felt!), because everything was so proper. They serve the food in glass dishes and give you salad forks...SALAD FORKS! And like three knives. Whatev. Needless to say, it was an enjoyable experience, but since it was non-stop, it was almost too short to enjoy! Still, I enjoyed every minute of it. Especially the cheesecake dessert!
I got off the plane and set out to get into the city and find wi-fi to contact Jonathan, my cousin, who flew into Brussels as we had planned. I got onto the train from the airport (thought about taking the bus to see more of the country side, but who was I kidding! I just got off a posh flight, the bus was the last thing I was going to take.) Not one second later, I was introduced to France by a trendily-clothed man and his spectacular looking trick making out on the train. I'm talking full on French, man! Right in front of everyone! While I half expected them to start taking off clothes and doing the dirty in front of the kids, I realized one thing: these two had passion. Not saying we Americans don't...but well, we don't. We lost that ages ago. Somewhere between having style in the 60s and losing it in the 80s, we also lost our passion.
Paris is the city of love for a reason, and this I've seen. I really have! Everywhere you look, it's love. The Beatles must have adored this city. I do now. Honestly, Paris is one of the best looking cities I've been to. It's clean, everything is beautiful (including the people!), and style is pouring out. I don't even think some of the natives realize how trendy they look. Seriously! It's just a part of these people!
So while Jonathan was scouting Brussels out, I decided to walk around and get my sense of direction. I quickly learned that the Seine runs relatively east to west. That helps. Except you don't know where it is, unless you know where you are, so....maybe not so much help. Regardless, I did as much as I could with a pack on: visited the steps of the Pantheon (free wi-fi!), checked out Jardin du Luxembourg (where I took a nap while kids played soccer around me), then jaunted over to Notre Dame where I couldn't go in because of my pack but was treated to a German Rastafarian band behind the cathedral...with free wi-fi! I decided then to go to the Eiffel Tower, stopping by Hotel de Invalides on the way over. I didn't spend too much time at these places, instead focusing on learning my way around. I feel like I did a pretty good job, and that I know my general way around the south half of downtown Paris. Not bad for a day!
But...then I had to find a place to stay. Where would I do that? My couchsurfer friends had let me down, and I didn't know where to go. But, where there're people, there's a good chance that you know someone! Well, at least, there's a good chance that you know someone who knows someone who knows someone who happens to be in that place you are! Which is what happened. When I told my friend Meghan that we didn't have a place to stay, she contacted her people. One friend of hers lives in London and informed us that a friend of hers, Trent, was arriving in Paris the same day as I. After e-mailing round the gauntlet, I finally got an email back from him at 11pm tonight, assuring me that I had a place to stay. Woot woot! And THAT is why I don't plan! You can never have such great luck on the fly if you plan *everything* out. (Note: I really am being sarcastic. I promise! But that doesn't mean I don't love the rush of spontaneity or the crunch of figuring out what to do in a foreign place...that's my own type off drug!)
So now, I leave you all. I meet up with Jonathan tomorrow at noon-ish, then we'll be together for the rest of the trip. I'll miss being on my own, actually, but it'll be good to have a comrade with me.
Ciao!

There are some pics on facebook, by the way! Here's the link: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=192880&id=620687279&l=ccf4293991

Plane to Nowhere

Today, a vlog post, courteous iPhone 4, iMovie for iPhone, aaaaaand Delta

UPDATE 2: Here`s the video

(There's a video, obviously that goes here...but the internet is dying over here! You'll see it in a bit, hopefully! Here's the gist: didn't get on my flight to Atlanta, ended up flying straight from Salt Lake City to Paris! Jonathan is still flying to Brussels. I say in the video that I'll arrive at 11.50 at night, but see the update below! I'm funnier in the movie, I promise, but I have to post my next post, so, I had to get this up too.)

(I'm sorry for the quality...one, front facing camera makes it easier for me. Two, I had to rotate the whole thing [thanks iMovie!] because I forgot to record it landscape...sorry!)

UPDATE: Yeah, so I was excited, and I think I said I'd be in Paris tonight. Not true! I'll be arriving at 11 in the am, just enough time for my cousin, Jonathan, to start the drive from Brussels to Paris!

Cats Got the Tongue

I am good.

Those three words elicit in me so much confidence, it might be considered over the legal limit. I try not to be cocky, but, well, let's be honest. If you know me, I joke about my cockiness often, and like I said before, joke's are half-truths. But, there's nothing wrong with being confident. 

Back in High School (did I just capitalize that? Sure did!), I was walking away from a football game once--in the dark--and I heard a voice from behind yell, "Tyler! Slow down!" I had no idea who it was. I slowed down, but didn't turn. Again, "Tyyyyyyyler!"

Ugh.

I turned around and saw who was calling my name. I chuckled and asked the girl how she knew it was me. "It's the way you walk. You walk with confidence."

I've been complimented often about my air of confidence. People always notice, and some have been turned on by it. You know the ones. And, usually, I'm really good about the whole facade.

But the problem with an air of confidence, is that usually, that's all it is: air. Hot air. Thin air. Good old fashioned air. Good for breathing, good for wifi, and good for flying really fast in. Yep. Air.

Don't get me wrong, I like breathing! And I like feeling confident, or at least convincing others that I am, because it really helps you accomplish great things. But when it's one of the many masks you wear, sometimes you can get knocked off of your feat and all of that confidence comes crashing down, shattering like glass in a Hollywood movie. 

(Pause for the image of glass crashing all around some generic Ethan Hawke-like actor looking up at light. Maybe even pan around him, Matrix-style, as the glass is bouncing back up. Use your imagination, that's what it's there for.)

I always hated this feeling. When somebody knocked me off the confidence ladder, I immediately felt insecure. I couldn't speak. I hated it.

Then suddenly, as your confidence builds back up and you're flying high, somebody comes and knocks you down hard. You stumble over the simplest phrases. You make awkward moves. You freak out and start planning everything in your head: "I should say this in this order and then she might do this and I'll then have the perfect opportunity to not make a fool of myself." But something's different. You still make a fool of yourself: but you're not freaking out. They've done something not many succeed at doing. They take you out of comfortable, yet you don't complain.

One day, you hope to say the things you planned on saying. One day, you hope that your confidence will rise again. But for now, for one small moment, you are okay being stripped bare . 

After all, I always liked being naked.

Our Boys

World Cup.
Two words that are ominous, dramatic, heartbreaking.
For the USA Men's National Team, the 2010 World Cup will ultimately be remembered more tenderly than most. More tenderly than 1998 when they went home ranked the worst of the tournament. More tenderly than 2006 when, after the best run in modern history (2002) we went home from the tournament early after tying the eventual champions. But ultimately, I think, in the end, this year will be remembered as a disappointment.
Stay with me here.
I realize that 2010 brought us our first win out of group play, even over England. Yeah, I get that. I understand that 2010 showed us how resilient our boys were, coming back and beating (yes, I said it) Slovenia, overcoming Algeria in the final minutes, and fighting back to force Ghana into extra time. Point taken. I can see how US Soccer will be forever changed with immense support from the homeland. These are all amazing feats, and they are really something we have to recognize and applaud.
But, when it comes down to it, this 2010 World Cup showed how much the USMNT has to grow.
England and USA. The favorites of the group. We overcame adversity, sure, but that adversity was self-afflicted. It does show a strong team psyche when you did what we did, that's a plus, but it shows weak character when the mistakes are committed over and over again.
You see, we can compete with any country in the world. Don't believe me? Look around! We beat the world number ones 2-0 last year (Spain), we fought down to the wire for a draw against the inventors of the game (England), and we held a 2-0 advantage to the men who perfected the game in our first international final last year (Brasil).
So what the hell is the problem?
After Our Boys ruined my weekend (the result seemingly had no effect on other fans watching the game), I think I've realized one of the issues. In all of our (U.S. soccer supporters) efforts to bring the joy of the game to more and more people around us, I think we've become soft towards the 'Nats results. Nowhere in the country will you read a newspaper tomorrow with interviews criticizing the poor performance out of the gates. You will read of how the U.S. has played "dramatically" and with "resilience." There will be no talk or rumor of a manager change (if there is, it will be soft), and overall, I believe the supporters will pat the boys on the back and say, "Well, done, men, you made it past group play, it was exciting, and maybe you'll have a better go at it in four years!"
(And no, MSNBC/Lovgren, this should NOT be considered a success.)
It's repulsive.
I'm not saying that we should all react like the French or the Italians after their (in my eyes, fitting) early departures. But maybe a little bite would help. We should be questioning Bradley's choice of Ricardo Clark after a fantastic performance by Maurice Edu. We should be asking ourselves why Edson Buddle, arguably the hottest American player on the team at the moment, saw 20 minutes of playing time out of the entire tournament. We should be wondering out loud why Carlos Bocanegra didn't electrify and fortify our back four. Why did Jozy Altidore perform so poorly? Why didn't he finish any of his chances? Why is Salt Lake's beloved Findley missing a 1v1 with the keeper? This is the world stage, and while we had a dramatic run, it was rather embarrassing the way Ghana was passing around us while we all stood around today. It was embarrassing that we finished and played with aggression only when we were cornered into it. It was embarrassing that we are going home today.
Look. Landon, Tim, Clint...every single one of you: I loved watching your enthusiasm. I loved seeing your heart when it came out on the field. I loved watching every game you all played. I love our boys. But it's the hardest love there is, and the fact that we're out at 16 makes it that much harder.
U.S. supporters: we have a job to do. No more cheering at results that were great 4, or even 8 years ago. We must come to expect solid play. We must expect precision finishes. We must expect glory. Each and every game we play, we must expect to win. There's no reason for losing anymore.
We have become the force of CONCACAF. People laugh at the weakness of our conference. They should laugh no more, because we should give them reason to be quiet.

June

Part of my struggle with maintaining my blog was a personal debate between myself and...me. I couldn't adequately determine how much this "blog" would be a window into my own life—into my soul, if you will.
I still don't know if I've answered that question. I revel in mystery. I have made myself enigmatic. It's really been a goal of mine to shroud myself in the unknown. Usually I mention this as a joke, but we all know that jokes like this are born from reality.
If you ask my close friends, they may or may not agree with me (especially as of late, but that's a different matter). But I'm fairly certain that after an honest assessment, each one could say that I try.
I suppose I do it for a number of reasons. First and foremost, I think we all have a too strong a propensity to immediately judge other people. We judge their intentions, we judge their beliefs, we judge their looks—all of it. I can honestly say this just makes me want people to misjudge me, so one day I can show just how skewed our prejudices were, and maybe, through embarrassment perhaps, encourage us all to think twice before judging people.
Secondly, it's sexy.
For my third reason, I will point to privacy. When you are not forthright with everyone, you hold "secrets." Whether they're really secret or not, it's something that you have that others don't. It's a very powerful feeling.
I'm sure there are other reasons, but lately—and this is what has led to my personal debate—I've wondered if I haven't become a mystery unto myself. I'm trying to be more open about what I feel. I have protected my feelings for a long time, refusing to let anybody know them, but I feel now, that it's time for me to learn how to describe them—even if it's to myself. It's difficult.
My desire to be an enigma has caused me to have cultivated some amazing skills, one of which is empathy. I've learned to truly put myself in others situations, because I can project those situations onto me, a blank canvas.
But ultimately where does that put me, the canvas?

Hello out there?!

Wow. This may have been my longest leave of absence. I don't feel like it's quite time to re-enter the blogosphere. I think I'll take my Conan-break. Actually, for those of you who care about social networking, I've decided to reinvigorate my twitter account, zoti_soli. For those of you who don't understand twitter, try it for a few days, and it'll make sense.
Anyway, I figure that I could at least give you a partial update on things in my life. I'm floating under the radar for a bit...I think...until school is out. I've had an incredible difficult time as of late focusing on things, and it really bothers me, so I'm figuring out what the best way is to go about recovering from that. Maybe meditation, maybe some holistic approach...maybe a trip to the beach. I thought Honduras would help clear my mind, but I discovered that my tendency to always find something to be too busy with follows me even to the most remote places on this earth.
In the past two weeks I've begun to care about my networking presence on the web (perhaps/hence the twitter resurrection?). Part of this is becoming extremely active in the CouchSurfing community. If you don't know what that is, you should. And to answer your question, you don't understand. It's much more frightening to be in their shoes than mine (as a host), and you can be quite discriminating while still helping people out. Anyway, I hosted a Scot last week. Bernie was a great surfer and was very independent. He walked all over Salt Lake. I picked him up at the Greyhound station on Easter night, and he left that Thursday. It didn't seem very long at all, which is to say we enjoyed having him around. Yesterday, I picked up Roman from the Flying J his cousin dropped him off at on their cross-country big-rig ride. Roman is from the Czech Republic, and we had a lot to talk about, since we've both lived in Eastern Europe. I really enjoyed Roman, and was heart-broken that while he was in Boston, he was mugged twice within 10 minutes. Great hospitality. He was nervous when he got here, but after he explained why, I decided that I would do whatever I could to help him. I helped him get his rental car this morning as he was determined to make it to beautiful Southern Utah and all of the national parks. He had a pure heart, and I'm truly grateful that we are good friends. To think that within 15 hours, two people could have such a bond...amazing.
Anyway, that's all I have to say for now. My absence will probably resume until I feel adequate to manage my blog again.
Until then.

Honduras

For those of you who thought I couldn't go a day without being connected: I went 12. Haha.
I'm back, and I have many stories to tell. Perhaps over the next few days I will write about my experiences. Check back.

Results of the Oscar Ballots!

Man, I wish I had bet on Sunday's awards. As you know, I created a ballot and posted it on facebook, Google Buzz, as well as e-mailed it to a group of people. I sent it out quite late Saturday night, so I wasn't sure how many responses I'd get. I ended up having 24 people fill it out (I had to twist some arms here and there, but mostly, I think people wanted a shot at the prize). Oh yeah, the prize. I am picking it up in Honduras next week. So....yeah. Good prize for no entry fee, right?
There were some interesting trends I saw in the ballot results. First, EVERYONE knew Avatar would win for Visual Effects. Also, Avatar and Inglourious Basterds tied for everyone's favorite movie of the year.
So, the results. Scores were weighted based on how easy I thought the category was. For example, Visual Effects had only three nominees, and the other two were fighting Avatar: 1 point. Documentary Feature: 5 points. There was a logical method to the scoring, but I won't go into that.
Oh, and I also filled out two ballots. I filled one out according to what I figured the Academy would vote, and then I filled one out based on who I thought should win. Good thing my ballots don't count, because they did pretty well. On my first--the what WOULD win ballot--I scored a 62 (out of 73 possible), which means I guessed the Academy's vote on 21 of the 24 categories! On my second, I scored a 27, or got 9/24 right. Haha, I don't know what that means.
But, onto the winner! First place overall was my sister Shawnee. She got a cool 50% right, for 38 points, so hip-hip for her!
Her are the rest of the results:

1. Shawnee, 38 points
   
2. Aunt Karen, 31
   
3. Brad, 28
   
4. Brady, 26
   
5. Meghan, 25
   
6. Leremy, 24
   
7. Abby, 22 (Tied, even after tiebreaker with Austin F)
   
8. Austin F, 22
   
9. Lance, 22
   
10. Josh and Krissey, 21
    
11. Chad P, 20
    
12. Rufus Sputtlenuck (Matt), 20
    
13. Casey D, 19 (Tied, even after tiebreaker with Andrea)
    
14. Andrea, 19
    
15. Chase, 18 (And, no, Chase, only 5 speeches were cut short, not all of them)
    
16. Max, 17
    
17. Stephanie M, 15
    
18. Michael L, 14
    
19. Lejdja, 14
    
20. Kelby S, 13
    
21. Jeff Dove, 9
    
22. Ken T, 7
    

OK Go Makes Me Happy Once More

60 tries, 40 volunteers, 20 bowling balls, 10 broken tvs, 5 sledgehammers, 4 paint guns , 3 completed shots, 2 days, 1 take and no cuts. Brilliant.

Happy Birthday Dr. Seuss

As a senior in High School, they asked, "who's your hero?"
I thought on the spot, but the names numbered zero!
I thought a bit more, alas! one I adore:
Dr. Seuss! Dr. Seuss! He was never a bore!
Odd choice, at the time, but the reason's quite clear:
Dr. Seuss understood! Hence I hold him so dear.

And my favorite quote, especially as of late:

"Be who you are and say what you feel,
because those who mind don't matter,
and those who matter don't mind."

-Dr. Seuss