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By Jon Shellhammer, May 14, 2012 6:00 am

11-year-old Jon and his Chargers shrine

Junior Seau was a great football player. Growing up in San Diego as a Charger fan himself, Seau embodied the lightning bolt. He seemed to have twice as much energy as everyone else on the field. He was exhilarating to watch.

When news of his death hit last week, my mom sent me a text message that read, “Brings back so many memories of when you were young worshipping the Chargers.”

I really did worship them. Before every game, I would set up a shrine in our living room. Clothing, cards, memorabilia, even my trash can. I don’t know if it brought them good luck, but I did it every week.

In 1994, the Chargers made it to the Super Bowl. They were underdogs throughout the playoffs, especially in the AFC Championship game against the Pittsburgh Steelers.

That game came down to the final seconds. I was on the edge of my seat. Would my shrine fail me now? My heart was pounding. I just wanted the clock to tick faster. Come on, guys. You can’t let the stupid Steelers beat you.

The Charger defense prevailed, and we were Super Bowl-bound! My family and I were screaming and running around the house.

“We’re going to the Super Bowl!” There may have been dancing involved. I can remember my mom answering a phone call from her sister with, “Super Bowl headquarters, how may I help you?”

Super Bowl headquarters, indeed.

That night, we drove to Jack Murphy Stadium to welcome the team home from Pittsburgh. It was a Sunday night, a school night. My parents could have kept us home and made us go to bed. But this was so much bigger than school. Bigger than doing the responsible thing. This was the first time the Chargers were ever going to the Super Bowl. Forget about school, get in the car, we’re going to The Murph!

Continue reading 'Your Team Doesn’t Always Have To Win'»

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By Darcy Dates, May 7, 2012 6:00 am

The Truth

One of the reasons I married my ex-husband is because I saw how he took care of his mother when she was sick. He not only quit his first major job out of college to move to the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota with her for three months to take care of her (he was an only child, and she was a single mom), but he visited her every single day in the hospital for nearly a year until the day she died.

That’s when I decided he was a good man and had what it took to be a good husband. It was exactly what I would have done for one of my parents had they fallen ill. And it’s exactly what I did for my father 11 years later, when he was diagnosed suddenly with stage-four Pancreatic cancer. When I sat with my father for the six months of his courageous battle, I realized it’s not what you had, but who you had by your side.

Colby and I had been broken up for nearly two years when my father died. Colby stayed by my side every step of the way. I knew that he loved me. Real, real, deep love. The kind that Nicholas Sparks books are made of.

Colby rode in the car with me to my father’s grave after his funeral. He didn’t say a word, but I knew he was there for me. I felt totally comfortable falling apart, as I knew he would be there to catch me.

There is a Jewish tradition where each person has the opportunity to shovel dirt onto the grave after the service is finished. Helping fill the grave means you have left nothing undone, and it is the ultimate final respect for the deceased.

After everyone had their turn, I looked over at the men who worked in the cemetery, who would have the job of filling the grave when we left.

Then I looked at Colby.

“I want you to do it.” I said, through my tears.

“Do what?”

Continue reading 'When A Man Has What It Takes'»

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By Erica Sager, April 20, 2012 6:00 am

Image by SuperStock.com

Warning: The following article contains possible triggers for victims of sexual assault.

I’ve never been good at confrontation.

When I’m alone, I argue like a pro. When there’s nobody to cut me off, I put everybody in their place. When I’m lying in bed, thinking about what I wish I’d said, I make flawless points that win every argument. I’m great at saying no… after the fact, when it’s not to your face.

In real life, though, I’m the worst pushover ever.

I’ve been having weekly staring contests with a boy in class. Finally, he introduces himself to me. I repeat the name in my head and look him up on Facebook later: “In a relationship.”

Crap.

“Who cares?” says my friend. “He’s only dating her because he hasn’t fallen for you yet.”

She’s so right. So when he runs into me the following week (by chance or on purpose, I wonder) and asks me if I want to take a ride to Walmart with him to get a part for his car, I say yes.

Mistake number one.

What do you do with your hands when you’re in a guy’s car? He keeps looking over at me like he’s trying to read my face. All I feel is nervous, but I hope he can’t tell.

In the store, he keeps smacking my butt, playfully. He stands really close to me. He puts his face right next to mine when he talks, forcing eye contact. I feel weird, but I don’t say anything.

Mistake number two.

Driving back, we pull up to the town’s only stoplight. I hope he’ll turn right and bring me back to campus. Turn right, let’s go back. Please turn right….

He turns left.

Continue reading 'I’m Still Learning How To Say No'»

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By Dennis Hong, April 6, 2012 6:00 am

Photo by Jeremy Sage

Years ago, whenever my mom deemed it necessary to declare war on someone I or my sister was dating, she would execute a pretty ambitious—though usually ineffective—battle plan. Her strategy? To “prove” the person wasn’t right for us by systematically pointing out every last imperfection this person might have.

If character assassination is what you do when you want to discredit someone, then mom’s strategy was character napalm. She didn’t just destroy. She utterly annihilated.

Mom’s misgivings with our dates ranged from the questionably reasonable:

She’s too chatty, he’s too quiet, she’s too young, he’s too old, she’s a social butterfly, he’s too shy….

To the grotesquely superficial:

She has bad complexion, he has gray hairs, she doesn’t look very smart….

That last one is particularly memorable, by the way, as it was spoken regarding a girl she had just met and hadn’t spoken one word to.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I love my mom, and I know she only wants the best for me. But, this… this just struck me as being a tad on the overkill end of things.

So, I decided to take a stand one day. And I told my mom that if she did have legitimate concerns about the people we were dating, the legitimate concerns were usually lost in the firestorm of superficial complaints. Over the course of a surprisingly civil conversation, I gave her the extended, half-Taiwanese/half-English paraphrasing of the age-old saying:

Pick your battles, mom.

Continue reading 'Dear Politics: Please Pick Your Battles'»

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By Fleur Phillips, March 12, 2012 6:06 am

Blogspot.com

Theatre is sexy. Backstage is dimly lit, with the subtle glow of the onstage lights streaming through the dust of the wooden flats. There are dark corners and pre-determined soundless moments. It’s hot, too. Heat-hot from the lights, and sex-hot from the right chemistry and synchronicity.

Give a couple of prepubescent teens two-and-a-half hours with minimal supervision off-stage, and the theatre can and will do its magic.

I began acting in the theatre at seven. By the time I was 12, I was a horny adolescent girl, and Tony Snow was my equally horny adolescent target. I met him while doing The Legend of Sleepy Hollow. (Cue: howling wind and horse hoof-beats.)

It was the perfect dark and creepy story for a young girl’s first “show-mance.”

It didn’t take long before I realized he wanted me, too. What we wanted… we weren’t quite sure, yet. But we were more than willing to explore the possibilities. We were the reigning Sleepy Hollow item.

Tony and I shared the same path backstage as we headed from one exit to the next entrance. I’d lead as we ran off-stage through the concourse into the Green Room, past the rehearsal hall, and cut through the Very Dark Hallway–a hallway that was sealed by two sets of double-doors on either end.

When both sets of double-doors were closed, it was pitch-black in that hallway. Verily Dark.

The sign on the door read: THESE DOORS MUST REMAIN CLOSED DURING PERFORMANCE.

These doors must remain closed….

Continue reading 'The Boy Who Only Wanted One Thing'»

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By Fleur Phillips, February 13, 2012 6:00 am

Image by www.GirlsLife.com

When I was in fifth grade, I had a wicked crush on Pierce Leves. Pierce was “it” for me. And Rebekah Rabinowitz knew it.

She also knew that I was too shy to do anything but love him from afar (oh no, I was not the fleurt I am today). Deciding to play matchmaker, Rebekah bandied back and forth between Pierce and me, asking questions like, “Would you go with Flew-er if she’d go with you?” And, “Would you go with Pierce if he’d go with you?”

After several days of negotiations, Rebekah darted up to my desk: “Oh my God, you are going with Pierce! He totally wants to go with you. Will you?”

I swallowed. “Yeah, okay.”

“Oh my God,” she squealed, again. “You’re going with him now! You’re going with Pierce! Pierce, you’re going with Flew-er now. You’re going with each other!”

I didn’t let on, but I was psyched. I was also terrified.

From that moment on, Pierce and I did not say one word to each other. Come to think of it, we hadn’t really said one word to each other up to that point, anyway. But now, we were actively not saying one word to each other.

Still, though I didn’t know what to do with him, I had a boyfriend. My boyfriend, Pierce. Pierce, with whom I never spoke. Pierce, with whom I never glanced.  Pierce, with whom I never… anything.

One day, I did find myself standing next to him. He turned to me, and for the first time, we made eye contact:

Continue reading 'The Boy Who Got Away (With It)'»

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By Dennis Hong, February 3, 2012 11:49 am

Image by Peter Beavis

Here’s a fun little experiment. Read the passage below in your head and see if it makes sense to you. If it doesn’t, read it out loud to yourself. If it still doesn’t make sense, ask someone to recite it to you. Hopefully, then it should be obvious.

And if you don’t have someone (to recite the passage to you, that is, not in general — that’s a whole ‘nother issue that’s outside the scope of this article), click here and copy-and-paste the passage into the text reader.

Okay, here’s the passage:

Up led Joe legions tulip lag lovely ewe gnat his date sublet merit cob. Unto theory pup leg, fur wretched stance, unlay shin, on dirt got, end if is civil, whiff fibber tea Angie us diss four hall.

As a teacher, I’ve learned that different people have different styles of learning, the two most common being visual and auditory. Visual learners need to see information, while auditory learners need to hear information.

If the above passage works as intended, whether or not you can figure it out may reveal whether you’re more of an auditory or visual learner. I believe that auditory people will naturally “hear” this passage as they’re reading it, so they’ll easily be able to understand it. Visual learners, on the other hand, will only see the words on the screen and may not immediately be able to decipher them.

As a writer, I’ve learned that writing isn’t just about grammar and spelling. Good writing flows and has a comfortable rhythm. It’s almost melodic.

In this respect, I believe it’s important to “hear” what we write, not just look at the words. Even when we’re dealing in articles that were never intended to be read aloud, we have to pay close attention to how our words sound. Because cadence is just as important to good writing as all the other technical stuff. And because there will be people out there who “hear” your written words!

Continue reading 'Can You “Hear” What You Read And Write?'»

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By Musings on Life and Love, January 16, 2012 2:57 pm

Looking for advice on your love life? Need help crafting an online dating profile? Or maybe you just enjoy talking about dating and relationships?

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Of course, we also realize that not all advice is created equal. So, we allow people to rate each other on the quality of their advice. Those who are most helpful can build up a reputation, which they can then use to promote their own site or services.

In this way, advice seekers get help from a community of real people, and advice givers are recognized for their efforts. Think of it as crowdsourcing relationship advice, but with the added benefit of being able to rate the crowd!

If this sounds like a community you’d like to join, check out our brand new site, LemonVibe!

PS: We created the site from scratch based on the features that people seemed to want the most. Please bear with us if there are some bugs we still have to fix, or if some features aren’t fully functional yet. We will get everything up and running as soon as possible, and we hope this won’t deter you from participating. See you on “the other side!”

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By Dennis Hong, January 9, 2012 6:00 am

Do you remember learning about self-esteem in grade school? When they teach you to stand up for yourself in an assertive way? To speak up when someone doesn’t give you the respect that you deserve?

As it turns out, that’s only half the lesson. Because they certainly don’t teach you how to respond when someone gives you respect that you don’t deserve….

I went to happy hour with a friend one time. It was still early, so there was only one other customer sitting at the bar as we walked up. The bartender was deeply immersed in conversation with this guy, and as we waited for her to serve us, I couldn’t help but overhear their entire conversation.

Apparently, the bartender had gotten sick a few weeks ago and was worried that she had an ear infection. But, she didn’t have any medical insurance, so she didn’t know what to do. As the other guy nodded along sympathetically, I thought this was sort of a strange thing for a bartender to be telling a customer.

Maybe she knows him? Maybe they’re friends, and he’s just here to chill with her?

Finally, the bartender noticed me and sidled over. I ordered a round of drinks and handed her my credit card, telling her to keep the tab open. She glanced at it and then, somewhat unexpectedly, said this:

“Oh hey! Can I ask you a question?”

I furrowed my brows at her sudden eagerness.

“Umm… sure?”

“Okay, so I got sick a few weeks ago….”

And she carved a screeching u-turn right back into the story that she had just told the other customer. As I sat there, listening to her kvetch about her ear, I began to wonder if this bartender just had a case of oversharitis.

Continue reading 'It’s Okay, I’m A Doctor — It Says So Right Here On My…'»

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By Jon Shellhammer, December 25, 2011 6:00 am

It’s another Sunday in the National Football League. With just over a minute left in the game, the home team is down by three points. The ball is on the 20-yard line. 60 feet from the goal line. 60 feet from victory and glory. At this point, most coaches wouldn’t call for the quarterback to take off running with the football. Quarterbacks, after all, are hired to throw the football, not scramble around with it. Then again, most quarterbacks don’t have the ability to weave through an entire defense and cross the goal line almost untouched to score the winning touchdown.

But that’s exactly what this quarterback does.

So how does this quarterback celebrate his game-winning scamper? We might assume that he, like many NFL players, would do some ridiculous dance, thump his chest, or yell obscenities at the defenders he just ran around.

But most NFL players aren’t this quarterback. This quarterback, after being mobbed by his teammates, points two fingers to the sky and drops to one knee to say a prayer. In a league filled with egotism and celebrations of selfish pride, this man credits all of his abilities to God.

Tim Tebow of the Denver Broncos is often criticized and rarely praised. Is it because of his unorthodox throwing motion? Because he runs too much and throws too little? No, it is none of those things.

Tim Tebow is criticized because he is a born-again Christian and not afraid to talk about it. People are quick to say that Christianity doesn’t belong in the NFL. People are quick to say that his faith flows out of his football, and the two should be separated. People say God doesn’t care about sports, and to believe that He does is ludicrous.

Continue reading 'Does Christianity Have A Place In Professional Football?'»