Zac Parsons

Tuesday Newsday has been a fun idea over the last several months.  Some of the stories struck a nerve (Roman Polanski, Jon and Kate), while others just struck a thud (Jasmine Fiore, Super Memory).  Either way, the discipline and rhythm of searching the news for topics to write about was a healthy one, often exposing me to stories and details that I would not have discovered otherwise.  I guess the same is true with many repetitive tasks when viewed in hindsight: even though it didn’t always “feel” like what I wanted to, I still grew in a way that I value now, because of it.

My wife and were doing one of those repetitive tasks last night…  Re-watching episodes of LOST.  (What were you thinking?)

Before starting that though, we saw that a new episode of “It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia” was in our queue.  Now, it’s is one of those irreverent shows that isn’t afraid to discuss touchy topics.  Some episode titles include: The Gang Exploits a Miracle, Charlie Gets Molested, Charlie Wants An Abortion, and Dee Is Dating a Retarded Person.  Not exactly dinner conversation topics in most households, but in the midst of the “shock”, there was some “awe”some moments of true humanity and hilarity.  (Did you see what I did there?  I kill me!)

Now into its fifth season, the show has added more episodes each year, and the quality of those episodes has waned considerably.  With most of the humor of last night’s show revolving around the destruction of property, poisoning rivals, and public urination, my wife reached her breaking point, saying: “I’m done watching this show, if you want to keep watching it, you can do it without me.”  While I’m not ready to give up on the show completely just yet (e.g. the last season of Scrubs was a renaissance of the brilliance that filled the first four seasons of that show), I think I understand why the show has sunk.

Instead of a creative force in the show that says: “We have something to say, let’s try to say it in our own way”, the situation morphed into: “Holy crap!  We have x number of shows to do this season, we have to say something!”  In a lot of ways, Tuesday Newsday has become like that for me.  To tweak the parental mantra about  mean-spirited talk: If I don’t have anything useful to say, then why am I saying anything at all?

If you will permit me another pop culture reference (we’re up to five right now), it reminds me of the 1994 movie, Airheads.  In the film, because they have taken a radio station hostage, a rock band becomes wildly famous and is even offered a record deal, because of the attention given to them.  The record company executive signs them without even listening to their music.  I don’t remember the exact context, but the lead singer Chazz, (Brendan Fraser) alludes to the record just being filled with the drummer Pip (Adam Sandler) farting on a snare drum.  Pip’s response: “I ain’t farting on no snare drum!” has stuck with me ever since, and pretty much sums up what any worthwhile endeavor can become if the circumstances around it cease to be conducive to it’s creative inception.

Even a beast of a sentence like the last one can sound pedantic if I’m just trying to say something in an interesting way, when I don’t have much to say at all.  (For another example of this, just re-read the previous sentence.  Seriously, who says “pedantic”?)

Just as Jemaine knew when it was business time, seeing that it was Wednesday, so I knew it was time to pontificate about some news item with sunrise each Tuesday.  I had created a machine that demanded me to have something to say, even if the content wasn’t inspired.  Let’s be honest… sometimes I was just farting on a snare drum.

Now, I feel more comfortable writing about things, when I actually have something to say.  There may be the occasional link-jacking where I just want to post something that really needs no commentary or introduction, but I don’t want to write just for the sake of writing.  If you are taking the time to read this, then I want to take the time to write something worth reading.

Interestingly enough, in the episode of LOST that we watched last night, the creator and star of “It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia”, Rob McElhenney, made cameo appearance that my wife did not remember from the first time she watched the show.  ”Hey!  It’s Mac!” she said with a happy smile.  Apparently, the end of her relationship with the show didn’t leave her with hard feelings about everything related to that show.  I’ve gotta say… I love this woman.

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On April 26, 2007, the Los Angeles Times printed a story about one man’s transition from male to female, and the road that led him to that decision.  The twist, in this story, was that the essay was written by one of their own (a sportswriter).  It was news that shocked many, but gave courage to countless more.  With the talent of his writing still very much in tact, even as much of his world was crumbling around him, Mike Penner “came out” to his co-workers, peripheral friends, and his reading audience with a promise:  To return to them as someone new, Christine Daniels.

I want to give you the link to his revelatory article, and I will.  But first, you should probably know the end of this tale.  This same sportswriter, Mike Penner, was found dead on Friday.  He was 52.

Although the official cause of death has not been released, most around the L.A. Times have acknowledged it was suicide.  Mike’s transition to Christine was not permanent.  By October 2008, he was again writing for the Times as Mike Penner.  Whether the regression back to male status was temporary or not, we do not know.  What we do know is that his journey was not finished after his essay was published 2 and 1/2 years ago.

Really, as I’m writing this, I keep reflecting on his 2007 essay over and over.  It’s beautiful, laugh out loud funny, poignant, and courageous.  I’ll just include one quote here, a question that transcends gender-confusion and touches many people with a secret:

“How do you go about sharing your most important truth, one you spent a lifetime trying to keep deeply buried, to a world that has grown familiar and comfortable with your façade?”

Although I’m confident that he didn’t coin the phrase, I often let the lyrics Steven Tyler sang in the Aerosmith song “Livin’ On The Edge” go running through my head:

“Life’s a journey, not a destination.”

Like many popular quotes, after they become common, they become trite.  The truth of this statement is hard to for me to ignore.  With so few things in this world that are permanent, it’s frustrating to me how often I feel like I have “arrived” somewhere.  It’s an announcement that “the struggle is over” and falseness has given way to truth. But somehow, the “arrival” is an illusion.  Even Steven Tyler’s personal journey to sobriety is in serious question, after years of staying at the “Hotel de Sober”.

It’s more than tricky to balance the concept of our personal identity with our habitual actions, even something as personal as sexual orientation or gender.  Mike/Christine spent the majority of his life wearing a mask, and when the facade was lifted, the struggle was not over.  Life is struggle, life is movement, life is dynamic.  The most significant events of our lives shape much of how we act, but they do not define who we are.

We are human before we are writers, employees, artists, Christians, Muslims, lovers, warriors, sons, daughters, fathers, mothers, men, or women.

Mike Penner had a gift for seeing the human side of his sports assignments. He surely developed this from his own struggle with his identity as a human.  It’s tragic that his struggle is now over, especially for those closest to him. His life and death have reminded me of the correlation between struggle and growth.  I am thankful to him for this.

You can read his “Old Mike, New Christine” article here.  It is my hope that it will be encouraging, and uplifting, and not just a mere cautionary tale of the danger of change.

Mike Penner/Christine Daniels, rest in peace.

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I’ve written before about how I admire the written stylings of Bill Simmons and Malcom Gladwell.  In that post, I wondered what the difference was between a good writer and a good speaker.

Last week, I put up a video of Malcolm Gladwell speaking at TED.  Much like his books portray him, he is articulate, funny and engaging.  He can make something as silly as spaghetti sauce, riveting.

Currently, Bill Simmons is touring the country in promotion of his new book “The Book of Basketball: The NBA According to The Sports Guy“.  I stumbled across a interview he was doing for ESPN about the book.  Check it out:

Something with it just didn’t seem to work.  I know that the first time I heard his voice, I was stunned by how dissimilar it was to the voice I has assigned him in my head while reading his articles.  I won’t criticize him here, because he is still a superb writer and I appreciate the thought process he goes through when creating his work.  Let’s just say that he helps to prove the idea that good writers are not necessarily good speakers.  It’s interesting food for thought if you are trying to become one, or both.

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It was our sophomore year in college and my ex-girlfriend had just started dating my best friend, Jason.  Jessica and I broke up shortly after I traveled over four hours to watch her graduate high school.  She had planned to attend KCU before we started dating, but the added pressure of going to school with me the next year was too much.  She needed “wide open spaces” and room to make “big mistakes.”

If you know why this picture is here... you get 5 cool points.

I found out that Jason was dating her when he kissed her in front of me for the first time.  At that moment I had to choose which person I cared about more.  I chose Jason and we’ve continued to be friends ever since.  The only reason I even mention Jessica is because she was not only a witness to both of the games in which I made the winning goals, but she may have been the reason I made the winning goals.

Intramural Football

No one on our team had ever played football in high school or college, but we did play our share of 2-hand touch in the grass outside of Water’s Hall.  I could throw the ball, but was never really picked to be quarterback.  I would mostly play the linebacker, wide-receiver, and safety positions – guaranteeing that I would be worn out by the end of the game.  It was usually Jason’s idea to play and it was his idea to join the intramural league.

Our team consisted of mostly the same guys who played 2-hand touch and (besides the guitar player) consisted entirely of our band, “Shog”.  Our season did not start out well and we continued to post losses.  By the end of the season we had yet to win a game.  The last game was against an upperclassman team, which also had members from one the other band on campus, “Crummies Church”.  It was literally a battle of the bands.

The game started off as other games had, but this time something was different.  We were putting points on the board and we were staying in the game.  Something else was different too.  Jessica had come to watch us that day.  As the end of the game approached, we were down, but not out. Whoever made the next touchdown would win the game.  I had never played quarterback, but at this moment, the ball was handed to me and the rest of our team ran to the end on the field. I through a Hail Mary pass above the heads of the opposing team.  Heath jumped to catch the ball – and he came down with it in the end zone. We had won the game!

Intramural Floor Hockey

Later on that year, the same team decided to play intramural floor hockey.  We thought we would have some advantages as we had been playing street hockey in rollerblades behind Ralph’s Supermarket all year.  We would lay shopping carts down as a hockey nets.

When the games began, the story that unfolded was somewhat different than what we imagined.  Because floor hockey is more like basketball than street hockey, requiring more running than skating, the basketball players who decided to join dominated the league. At least, they did until that fateful night when Jessica decided to watch our game.

Again, the game was back and forth, but then I felt it, that feeling.  It was the same feeling I had on the football feeling, the feeling when you know something is going to happen – and then it does.  I was at half-court and there were three guys between me and the net, but I cocked back and swung.  The ball went straight through all three guys, past the goalie, and into the net, winning the game.

The Muse

Jason and Jessica broke up shortly after field hockey season and all five members of Shog left KCU at the end of that year.  Jessica graduated from KCU and is now married.  Jason and I are as well, although not to each other.

The first movie we see together with another person in a new relationship tends to stick with us in our memory.  Jessica and I went to see the movie “She’s All That”.  Jason and Jessica went to see “The Muse”.

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Tuesday Newsday article will be up by noon tomorrow.  Until then, if you aren’t reading everything he writes anyway, I would recommend the latest article from Bill Simmons from ESPN.com.  He is one of my favorite writers, and he happens to be covering one of my favorite sports subjects:  Team USA soccer.  He shares about his schizophrenic relationship with the sport (one that he didn’t even play growing up) and the staggering importance it has for the country of Mexico.  Great stuff, as always.

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I just finished reading “Brave New World” by Aldous Huxley.  I was turned on to Huxley by my good friend Lenny, but for one of his other books.  ”Brave New World” is considered a classic by many, and is generally regarded as the author’s finest work.  I have to say, the book didn’t turn me on like I had hoped it would in a literary sense.  There wasn’t a growing hunger for me to devour more and more of the book as I finished each page.  It was more of a commitment that I had made to complete the book than a natural lure to continue.  I’m glad that I did though.  It wasn’t until I had finished the book and took a step back that I began to appreciate it on an entirely different level.

In an attempt to comment on this book, but not spoil things and discourage another from reading, I will attempt to straddle the line and be more or less vague about the details.  In essence, this book is about what happens to a society that gives everyone what they want.  Wars are abolished.  Crimes and murders are more scarce than scruples at a Bluth family picnic.  The society is, in many ways, perfect.  The end is finally achieved from so many of the efforts of civilization over history.

The main tool for the success in this system everyone receiving their desires (which seems so incredibly distasteful to those who choose to “die to self”)?  Pre-natal and early childhood conditioning.  One’s desires are changed so that society can meet everyone’s desires.  Humans are created in such a way that no one has a relationship with the original owner of the sperm and egg responsible for one’s genesis.  In fact, the concept of a mother and father is a type of vulgarity.

Breaking this bond is paramount in the system of human reproduction in “Brave New World”.  Babies are hatched in a lab, and not born of a woman.  Familial connections are wiped out.  This greases the rails for a series of chemical and behavioral modifications, that effectively change the response habits of each person.  In a very real way, what is desirable to someone is the choice of the leaders of society.  If they do not want someone to like puppies, they will bombard a young child with electric shocks, deafening alarms, and painful strobe lights, while in the presence of a puppy, until any desires associated with a puppy are destroyed.  Natural urges and desires are placated by a psychotropic drug called soma.  (Interestingly, a muscle relaxant drug called Carisoprodol is sold under the name “Soma” in the USA, even today.)  Soma makes everything uncomfortable, just go away.  Essentially, the world is full of drug addicts who vacillate between acquiescence and oblivion.

As I grew up, I was constantly chided for misbehavior and rewarded for compliance.  I do the same today with my children.  It’s a basic pattern of parental behavior.  I know that it is different for some of us, but for me, the desire to please others was extreme with me, and still is.  I felt validated when I was loved and praised, and disablingly low when I was ignored or banished.  It’s not that I didn’t rebel against certain people, but my overriding desire in most situations was to please others and gain or keep their acceptance.  In later years, this turned into a desire to be accepted because I wanted to be a good example of a Christian to those around me.  In high school, I wanted to please people so that I could be popular and accepted by the “cool” kids.

After that, I can’t really say why I wanted to please so many people.  I just… did.  Even today, if there is a room of people, I want everyone to like me.  Everyone.  This is my desire, and I can’t really say why.  I believe that it is at least partly a result of the conditioning that I began with myself at a young age and grooved into a deep gorge over the years.

Is it my fault?  Probably.  Is it my responsibility to deal with any consequences of this behavior?  Of course.  Was I born with this desire?  Is it natural?  That’s where my answers get fuzzier and fuzzier as I examine my own life and the behaviors of those around me.  It’s the nature vs. nurture debate.

The son of an alcoholic who finds his first taste of beer much smoother and more pleasant than his friends.  The woman whose dad never hugged her who now enjoys having men explore her body.  Any number of situations can be shown to relate either back to childhood or earlier. But, which is it?  In a lot of cases, our desires are not matters of choice, but of situations that are clearly out of our hands.  And if you believe in God (which I do), does responsibility for our desires have any dividing line?  If it is human nature, who’s fault is that?

Am I innocent to purchase an iPhone made in China if I am ignorant that life was lost during its production as the result of an effort to keep trade secrets safe?  Does my knowledge of any product’s origin make me complicit in any moral or ethical failings that occur on the journey to my consumption of the product?  If so, do I blame society for influencing my desires for these products?  Do I blame my nature for having the desires?  Or do I hold the blame to myself and just wish for the blissful ignorance of childhood?

I’m 29 years old, and I hold no answers.  I may never.  Is it wrong of me to be skeptical of those who do claim to know?  Are you?

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For whatever reason, the phrase “Tuesday Newsday” just sounds a little too corny to be proud of inventing.  I searched around online and breathed a sigh of relief when I saw that it has been used and enjoyed by others for quite some time now.  So, instead of being corny for inventing it, I will just be corny for borrowing it.

I’ve been reading a lot of different blogs online and I’ve enjoyed bringing in some guest bloggers to this site.  Sometimes though, I find a cool news article and I want to do more to it than just “Digg” it.  Starting on August 11, 2009, I will have a new weekly feature of discussing some sort of topic in the news that seems relevant to the idea of “what it means to be human”.  It will be called “Tuesday Newsday” and I’ll try to have it up early on Tuesday morning each week.

If you are interested in subscribing to my blog feed, just click on the button to the right that says: and choose your favorite reader or (if you’re not sure what a reader is) the email option.

Thank you for checking out my site and please feel free to forward my contact information to any friends or colleagues of yours that might be interested in reading along (by clicking the + Share/Save button below).  You can link to a posting on your Facebook account with the button as well.  It’s pretty cool.  If you have any questions about  using TPI’s programs, just click the appropriate tab in the menu bar above or send me an email at zparsons@pac-inst.com.

What do you think of the new look?

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It was November 15, 2006…

“My Love” by Justin Timberlake was the number one song in the country, the first Transformers movie was still being shot, and the vast majority  of us had never heard of Barack Obama.  It was also the last time the Spanish national team lost a game. They had been 32-0-3 since and won 15 games in a row. Pretty impressive streak.  It’s even more impressive when you consider the majority of the international games Spain plays are against European powerhouses like Italy, Germany, and England. That should help us all put in perspective how great the win the USA had today to snap Spain’s record-tying streak… and after the way they played in the first two games of the Confederation Cup (see Zac’s June 20th update) it is hard to believe they were even had a chance.

For those of you who didn’t catch Sundays action, the moon was in the seventh house, Jupiter was definitely aligned with Mars, and some how the USA snuck out of group play on a wing and a prayer. The 3-0 win over Egypt looked pretty good, but you weren’t sure if it was American hustle or if the Egyptians (insert Bengals humor here) were just gassed. Well los Estaduos Unidos answered that in a major way Wednesday.

Diving headers. Bicycle kicks. Flying knees. Muscling Spaniards off the ball. Hustle. The Americans didn’t jog back, they got back. Onyewu and DeMerit were monsters in the middle and ensured Timmy Howard got a clean sheet against a team which could be talked about as the greatest team ever. The forwards played smart, and when their opportunities arose they delivered. Landon Donovan lived up to John Harkes’ man crush and made good decisions,  which he usually doesn’t. They found some passion. But I’ve danced this dance before. I’ve predicted deep runs into World Cup, only to see them bounced with a lone point and a bad taste in their mouths. But they can play with the best in the world, they’ve proved it. Winning their first ever major tournament would be huge, and provide the confidence to make a run in next years World Cup.  I’m trying very hard not to get ahead of myself, but it is possible. Have they arrived? Guess we’ll find out on Sunday.

BTW, Sportscenter had a great line today.  Something about the Spanish streak running into “a red, white, and blue buzzsaw”. Epic.

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My two favorite writers happen to be friends.  They became friends after learning that they were both enamored with each other’s writing skills.  I am trying to carve out my own writing style, and I look to them to model parts of my writing after.  I was thrilled to see that they decided to share a back and forth email exchange on ESPN.com this week.  You can read part one of the three part series here.

Malcolm Gladwell

They talk about sports of course, but its how they talk that intrigues me so much.  They illustrate their points so vividly.  They can pull sports and pop culture references up and use them to defend or counter some argument or principle that is being discussed.  I understand that they see life principles at work in all the various aspects of life that they observe, but I’m so impressed by how they put it down in written word.

Bill Simmons

With the technology online growing ever more sophisticated and helpful, Simmons has transitioned some of his writing into audio podcasts.  In fact, the email exchange was originally suggested to be a phone conversation that would be converted into a podcast.  Gladwell thought that it would be more fun to write their thoughts down, rather than discuss them together aloud.  This gives them even more to discuss, as he chides Simmons on responding to his emails so quickly, while Gladwell himself takes several hours to give his written responses.

This has me thinking (which is a good thing).  What is the difference between being a good writer and being a good speaker?  Both are the results of thoughts in our brains.  Some speakers write their speeches down, then memorize them or come close to memorizing them, and soar.  Other people flounder when speaking this way and it is obvious that their oration was written.  Sometimes with writing, I can create something great after tweaking it several times, tinkering with all of the possible ways to communicate something, and finally settling on the best way that I can write it.  Other times, I can just sit down and the words seem to just flow from my hands, in the exact right order that I would have put them in, would I have tweaked them.

I’m still trying to figure all of this out, because communication is paramount in relationships.  Our intentions are not always discerned by the people we have relationships with.  What we mean is not often what is heard.  I’m a lot less arrogant when I consider that what I say is not what was understood by my listener.  Therefore a reaction to something I said is often times just a misunderstanding.  That tends to make two way communication more rich than one way communication.

And I’m sitting here writing a one way communication to you.  Oh well.  It’s all a journey.  I love it.

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