As I grow older, I spend more and more time thinking about time itself. How it flows (ever faster!), how it feels (slow on a daily basis, while whole months seem to evaporate behind me), and perhaps most importantly: how best to spend it.

Two of my favorite ways to spend time, reading books and watching movies, sometimes compete for my attention. After all, at my age, it’s hard to knock out a few chapters and a whole movie after dinner without dozing off. And to be fair, I’ve already seen a lot of movies and read a lot of books! This means both that a) I’ve already enjoyed so many of the surefire winners, and b) my tastes are pretty refined and probably even a bit jaded. It takes a bit more to impress me after decades of consumption.

With these two competing impulses in mind, I’ve grown a lot more protective of my time, but also a lot more merciless in how I recommend other people spend their time. I may have a pathological need to finish books I start, mainly so I can render a fully informed and absolute verdict on then, but that is only so that I can say with confidence: DON’T BOTHER. For example: I, English teacher that I am, can confidently say that Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment was absolutely not worth the time it took to read. It’s a classic for a reason, with some fascinating moral questions to ponder and a complex central character. It’s also somehow simultaneously dull and melodramatic, and by even century-old standards, needs to be edited by about half. It’s what I’d hold up as a shining example of why we should re-evaluate the canon and find more modern examples of stories that cover similar intellectual ground if we want people to actually embrace and enjoy reading. It’s just… a slog. I’m sorry, Fyodor! I’m not saying your work has no cultural value; just that for 99% of currently living humans, this is a use of time that I simply cannot condone. And honestly, haven’t 99% of previous humans likely lived ok-to-great lives having never read it already? I’m only suggesting we present breathers not feel bad about it.

And yet… I am also reassured that no matter how much time I’ve spent on this earth, there are absolute gems of modern art that I’ve yet to discover. The best, most recent example of which is the film Master and Commander: Far Side of the World. Despite it’s unwieldy title, it is a perfect film. The period-accurate, creaky and grimy production details of this ship at sea are incredible. The cast delivers at every level from Russel Crowe as a charismatic captain down to the little pre-teen aspiring naval officer on his first journey at sea. It swings from tense and explosive action to jovial wartime camaraderie, with time to spare for philosophical asides about discovery, duty, friendship, and more. What a time! And to think, I’d shared a planet with this masterwork (pun) for over two decades and never experienced it. What a world.

I could say similar things about other movies like Charade (Hepburn and Grant?!) or Lone Star (Cooper, wow!), or Richard Powers’ Bewilderment (I could just die after finishing that one) etc., all of which are a hell of a lot more worth your time than trying to check the box on a supposed centuries-old classic. It’s not that old things are not worth our time, it’s that as we get old, our time is worth more than some slightly less wonderful old things! Tough calls have to be made, and sometimes obligations to a cultural canon must be sacrificed in favor of savoring the recently delicious. Bon Appétit!

So…
What’s an example of something you’d neglected for years, but upon finally catching, still took you by surprise with its greatness?

Conversely, what’s something you felt some cultural or peer pressure to appreciate, but upon finally experiencing, you can confidently say live up to its reputation and is better skipped?

In light of these examples, is this a reasonable way to think of using one’s time? Or is this approach a surefire path to cultural bankruptcy where we simply stop trying to appreciate difficult or less enjoyable art while sliding comfortably into brainless bliss?

I have let this site languish for several years since a short-lived pandemic-inspired attempt to pivot to video, which, let’s be honest, was the kind of hilarious decision we all made at least one of in the year 2020. (That’s not to say I’ll never make a video again, because I find video editing meditative; it’s just pretty time consuming to do in service of a hobby.)

HOWEVER, since 2020 I have: 1) become unemployed, 2) worked freelance for the first time, 3) changed careers (!), 4) finished a return to grad school (!!), and now, 5) find myself in a job that will involve even MORE reading and writing than my previous discipline. As such, regular writing should probably re-enter my weekly routine.

For that reason, as well as the ever-present belief that the original idea for this website / blog remains a good one, I am going to return to weekly posting this summer. It will be useful writing practice for me, give a home to all the links I’d love to share after reading great articles I stumble across, allow space for book/movie reviews that deserve more than a tweet-length reaction on Letterboxd, and refresh the content for my favorite tool, the “Pick One Randomly” button at the top of the page.

Perhaps, in time, a return to regular writing will justify a new pivot to Substack or some other newsletter format, a recent trend which I am now totally into. Blogs are back, baby, except now they’re email. The Good Web of the early aughts is making its return in the oldest format on the internet, and I want in. Maybe. Eventually.

Anyway, more posts soon.

When I was young, I thought sports — and especially school sports — were mostly pointless. A waste of time and money that could be better spent on other things, like more resources for education and the arts. I think this is a common stance for bookish teens, like I was back then, who cling to any ways in which they can feel superior to those who are actually good at sports.

But as an adult I grew to recognize that sports play a valuable role in culture, too. They’re a communal experience that unites people across dividing lines in shared rituals and a mutual pride in their cities. There’s a reason sports have been around since ancient civilizations. We may have invented basketball, but cheering for the home team is timeless.

My feelings towards sports in general evolved along with a growing love for my favorite sport, college football, which if you’ll quickly indulge me, I believe is objectively the best because:

One, It’s a lifelong loyalty that you personally decide to opt into, which is at least theoretically based on some set of attitudes or ideals, versus being determined purely by birth or proximity.

Two, college football is a precious limited resource. There are only about a dozen games per year, with maybe a few more if your team does well. That scarcity means that each game is a special event. Something to be relished. It also means that being a fan doesn’t come with the huge time commitment of any other sport. It’s a win-win for people with other interests, like, say, film or literature or the outdoors.

Three, football games are broken down into a series of discrete decisions that play out with a mix of strategic planning and luck, action and reaction, which to a nerd like me makes it the sport that’s most like a board game. Every play has clear intent behind it, with a setup and a resolution, and every game is a series of plays that add up to success or failure, making each contest exciting on both the micro and macro level.

Then this week I found out that, for the first time in my adult life, my favorite sport is just… not happening this year.

So whether I like it or not, I’m going to have to put that time and energy somewhere else until 2021. Which has me thinking again about my old idea… do we really need sports?

Especially when you zoom in on what also makes college football the most problematic of the major televised sports, it’s worth examining seriously: Here we have young, unpaid athletes risking permanent damage to their health for the enrichment of a league that exploits them, under the guise of school spirit and raising funds for educational institutions.

Is it not worth wondering if there’s a better way to entertain ourselves?

In favor of sports, of course, there’s the economic argument: that sports is an engine for billions of dollars and millions of jobs, from athletes to shoemakers, security guards to hot dog vendors. And there’s the local and cultural argument: that cities need something to rally around and cheer for as a collective. A logo to put on a hat to show civic pride. A broadly approachable common interest to bond over with neighbors.

And of course it’s obvious that we love, and maybe even need, competition. Humans have always wanted to root for their city, region, or country to win at things. But are there other things we can compete in that both provide entertainment, but also contribute more to life in our communities? Without all that money, manpower and attention directed to the massive sports leagues of today, what else could we turn into sports that leaves us better off?

Could we replace baseball teams with squads of aspiring restauranteurs and make Top Chef a seasonal sport, where its participants go on to build up their city’s culinary industry? What could we create if we cheered for debate teams the way we do basketball players, while setting up rising stars to succeed in local politics? What if groups of young coders and engineers competed in an innovation challenge that we treated with as much importance and celebration as playoff season?

It’s a crazy notion, I know, but in a year where everything’s changing against our will, maybe it’s worth considering what we rebuild in the years that come after.

How would your life, and our society, change without sports as we know them today?

What would be a more productive alternative that still fulfills some of those same cultural needs?

If you could only keep one sport alive, which would you save, and why?

The key to any strong friendship, or business, is well-coordinated hairstyles.

Not every good professional collaboration becomes a social friendship, some friendships make terrible business partnerships. Maybe the qualities that make people good at working together are different from the ones that develop into deep emotional bonds, and that’s okay.

At the same time,  friendships start in workplaces every day. And doesn’t it sound like a dream to start a fulfilling and successful business with your best friends? How fun would that be?

I have personally found leaping the gap from cool coworker to actual friend very difficult. Maybe that’s just my hangups. How about you?

Do people you like at work become your friends outside of work?

What’s behind your failure or success to merge those worlds?

Do you like things that way, or wish you could change them?

Indefensible.

No jokes or clever anecdotes on this one.

Just another day where people fight over how to end rampant mass shootings.

A fact, not an opinion: we cannot reduce guns in the United States until at least some people are willing to give up at least some of the rights they currently enjoy.

An opinion/hypothesis: maybe it isn’t 100% fair that only gun owners should sacrifice something for a safer country. (not 100% sure if I agree with this myself, but it is a popular argument with some merit.)

So.

What rights would you give up — whether you’re a gun owner, a 2nd Amendment supporter, or neither of those — if it meant fewer gun fatalities?