...and we're back.

It got me to thinking about something that I think about fairly regularly and I've surely discussed with a few of you (as if there's more than "a few" of you reading this) before. This whole obsession of living your life through Facebook is not good. Facebook is meant to be something that complements regular life and is nothing more than a mild distraction with interesting content because you (presumably) know the people generating all the new material. It's just something we "do", but for some, it has veered dangerously close to being who we "are".

Some of what has brought me to this conclusion is nothing more than the same annoying things you see when you look at Facebook (and if you don't have a Facebook, that's fine, so long as you're not someone that spends more time talking about not being on Facebook than those on it spend talking about it). The epic problem comes from people using their ability/right/power to post inane garbage on Facebook to do exactly that. But there's another kind of Facebook garbage that is a little more rare and perplexing than the simply utterly useless garbage. It's the garbage that actually makes you think to yourself, "why are they posting this and what response are they going for?"

These people put way too much of themselves into their Facebook-ing. They divulge relationship details, they bear their heart, they express despair...they filter nothing. There are surely people that see this as a good thing since such strong emotions are best not left bottled up and if Facebook is an outlet for that, so be it. Thing is, there's all of us on the receiving end of this stuff and it's a bit irresponsible of the sender of such messages to just throw it all out there when obviously not all the people we're friends with on Facebook are the kind of friends we want to have this kind of interaction with. For example, I am likely to approach a conversation a little differently if I'm talking to a close current friend that knows me on a day-to-day basis than I would if I'm talking to my middle school social studies teacher.

It's just such a big burden you're putting on the people reading your drama, when many of those people are just on Facebook for casual entertainment purposes. Is that how you want your serious life issues viewed? As someone's distraction from a slow day at work or cure for insomnia? Not that everyone would see it that way. Some people might really see your problems as a cry for help, but oh wait, we haven't spoken to each other in 10 years and live in different states. Or better yet, we've actually never met and we ended up as Facebook friends because you mistook me for someone else with the same name. It's a good thing I now know the sordid details or your life, or at least the sordid details of what you spend your time doing or thinking.

Some of you might be thinking at this point, "dude, you just need to de-friend all these strange overly-emotional types you're talking about." Oh, but that perfectly illustrates my next point. I have been on Facebook for almost 7 years. I have a modest, but perfectly respectable, 600+ friends on there. And I have never once de-friended someone. Why? Because when you start de-friending people, you have crossed that line into taking Facebook way too seriously. Perhaps there are exceptions to this, such as de-friending an ex-significant other as a form of catharsis, but in general the rule applies. If you consciously consider the process of "cleaning out" your Facebook friends list as some sort of statement, you've got much bigger issues to worry about. Why? If someone has access to these deep recesses of your personal being, you're sharing too much on the internet. This should be the first sign you're over-doing it and missing the purpose. At the very least, you just need to set your privacy settings accordingly. I can't tell you what privacy settings to set because I've never checked my own. Why? Because I share nothing on Facebook that there is anyone I wouldn't want to see it. Do I necessarily want complete strangers seeing my profile information? No, but would I be worried if one did? No, again.

This may sound as though I'm ranting in response to someone de-friending me on Facebook. Not the case. Occasionally I'll stumble upon the realization that someone has de-friended me, which is usually the result of me suddenly noticing that there's less inane babbling on my newsfeed than I'm used to. When this happens, my first thought is, "Why did this happen?". After about 0.47 milliseconds of that thought, a sense of relief and contentment settles over me. Why? Because right then I know there are people that obsess over Facebook far more than me and that I'm actually among the Facebook users that have the least riding on it. I cannot even imagine sitting down and making a dedicated effort to prune my friends list. This hardly means that I'm good friends (or even know) everyone on my friends list, but it does mean I simply don't care enough to bother. I would honestly rather spend the time staring at a blank wall (or writing a rambling blog entry) that I might otherwise use going through the mental process of making cuts.

Is there a agreed upon method for that sort of thing? Is there an algorithm that computes if someone is worthy of being your Facebook friend based on how long you've known each other, how often you see each other or whether you were even friends in the first place? This is especially vexing when it was the other person that be-friended you in the first place. It's like they really were just using you for their own satisfaction or self-assurance for a time, then they dropped you from their life, or at least their life as it appears on a computer screen with a log-in name and password. Then again, these are the people that invest far too much in Facebook in the first place.

So, ladies and gentlemen of Facebook, pour your hearts out and feel free to de-friend away, even de-friend me if you wish. Just know that while I may have over 600 friends in the virtual world, I will eventually find out and that sly grin that comes over my face (after 0.47 seconds) will be the look of me realizing that I have just destroyed you.

One of the big stories this (or was it last?) week has been the launch of Google Plus (or is it Google+?). Yes, I just managed to put four different punctuation marks in a row. I should probably just stop here (shut up, nobody is making you read this), but I won't.

So yeah, this Google Plus thing. I don't really know what it is or what it does. I've heard it's sort of like Google's version of Facebook, but will somehow be better, but I can't seem to recall exactly how or why. This is something I could have researched before these fingers started dancing, but so could you. That is, you could research it using Google (note, not Facebook). Anyway, I can't tell you what it does or doesn't do and how that compares to what Facebook does or doesn't do. I have used Facebook since about August 2004, when grad school began. I don't really remember much else since the beginning of grad school, but Facebook has helped make it a lot less uncomfortable when someone says "remember when such-and-such happened in (a year since 2004)?" Thanks to Facebook's seemingly endless ability to keep my messages, photos, statuses and pokes (do people still do this? you know, on Facebook, that is), I don't have to worry about it. And it is for that reason that I don't really care what Google Plus does or doesn't do. If it's good (and thus warrants the "+"), I'm sure it's something I'll use. Otherwise, I'll let tried and true Facebook keep doing its thing.

That's sorta the point of this entry I guess. At this point, Facebook has become so good at what it does, it has ceased to really warrant much concern from me one way or the other. It is very true that the reason it does this so well is because it's not really following in the footsteps of anything else that came before it. Granted, there was MySpace (most recently) and Friendster (a little older), but nothing has ever "done Facebook" as well as Facebook. That's part of the reason why Facebook is probably a more common word for most people than the words "face" or "book" are combined.

Back to G+ (I'm going to call it that for now, or at least until everyone starts mistaking it for a Gatorade product), I have seen people begging on their Facebook statuses for an invite to this new-found competitor. That's like walking in Domino's just to ask for Pizza Hut's phone number. Don't these people realize that the reason why they resort to Facebook to seek out very specific information is because Facebook is just about the best way to do exactly that?

Well, I got a G+ invite. I didn't ask for one, but a good friend just so happened to send me one, because that's what friends do. I eagerly got myself going (I don't actually remember how you "get it going", but I did whatever you do when you're new to G+) and started adding people to my circles. That was fun for a few minutes, then I realized this was essentially just like Facebook, so I went looking for something different it can do. After about 30 seconds, I instinctively started reading Facebook. That's just how it works.

Now I see that Spotify's music service is finally reaching the US and guess what? People are already on Facebook asking for a Spotify invitation. I have no idea if it'll be the next music-related flame out like iTunes' "Ping" or if it'll be a hit. And G+ (not a Gatorade product, by the way) might be a serious contender for peoples' time that should be spent doing something else. It all remains to be seen, but it's such an odd thing that we are now so enamored with these various forms of social networking that we beg each other for the privilege to use something we never knew we were missing in the first place, especially considering we never really had a problem with the incumbent either.

All this thought about the importance of social networking online got me to thinking...

Having spent a few hours over the past several days watching the documentaries The Lottery and Waiting for "Superman", I am clearly more capable of making an entry about America's education system than I was before. Problem is, like with so many of today's "big" issues, there is no clear-cut answer. There are facts, however. Granted, facts can sometimes be misleading, skewed or simply irrelevant, but it sure beats hearsay or conjecture.

It might be argued by some that American schools are worse now than they were 10 or 20 or 30 years ago, but is it fact? We sure hear about how bad (mostly public) schools (in mostly impoverished areas) are. This is probably a fair statement. However, these schools were never necessarily great. The problem comes when you consider that there aren't as many decent options for the people coming out of these schools, regardless of whether or not they have a diploma in hand. The formerly "fall-back" jobs provided by the agricultural and manufacturing industries simply aren't there in the same quantity as before. They've either changed continents, or at least countries, or disappeared altogether. This has left many recipients of a poor school system more likely to end up confined to another damaged system, the prison system. If you look at the bright side, though, it means more gainful employment opportunities for those interested in being a prison guard.

Meanwhile, as those "fall-back" jobs have gone elsewhere, the people that took them are living in countries that now have better academic performance than the US on many levels. The leftovers of this "transaction" has been more poorly educated (if educated at all) people who do not even have a "fall-back" job to fall back on. These days the expectation of students is to gain an education that will demand a job and, more likely than ever, a well-paying job. As a result, the gap has widened to wider than ever before. Since you actually have to compete for a "good" job in the US these days, you are more inclined to get a higher degree (or equivalent), thus making you even more likely gainfully employed than those that went down the "fall-back" path.

So, the fact is, American schools are not really getting any worse relative to American schools of the past. The status quo has been very well maintained domestically. When compared to the educations being given and received globally, though, the US looks terrible. Everyone else has gotten better and did not really bother to make the US level of education the goal, but merely a milestone on the way to better. If the US truly wants to be a free market leader of the world, we must look beyond our broad borders for our competition, motivation and justification.

The two fine documentaries named way back in the first paragraph see charter schools as an idea to solve the problems. Although the evidence presented is quite convincing, even if these schools are not a fix-all, their mere existence brings to light much more. The argument here isn't the same as private versus public schools. That is an apples and oranges comparison. While the two ultimately strive to do the same basic thing, the approach, priorities, philosophy and often outcome differ greatly. With charter schools, the issue isn't whether classes are taught by nuns, or if school uniforms are required, or if sports are relevant, or who can afford the tuition. These charter schools are essentially "free" (in the same way other public schools are, which is to say they aren't really free) and are located in the school district which they serve. They also have been shown to often (but not absolutely always) out-perform their local "zoned" counterparts by a huge margin. Oh, but their teachers and administration are not part of teachers' unions. Oops.

What the involved union figureheads fail to realize is that this is not about them. Granted, teachers are (for the most part) underpaid and under-appreciated. That does not, however, make their pay scale or work schedule the focus. The matter at hand is the quality of the education of kids at their mercy. The plain truth is, nobody wants to make life harder for teachers. Nobody wants to tell a willing teacher they can't do their job. It's just a matter of keeping priorities straight and letting a little simple logic enter the equation. It stands to reason if the teachers have nothing to worry about in regard to their job being tied to their performance (like the vast majority of jobs that people actually have to apply for and be hired for), it's easy to see why so many will put their own interests first and do so in a staggeringly reprehensible fashion. Of course, not all teachers will do this, but the ones that will are probably the same ones that got into teaching because of the system in place and it probably wouldn't be a stretch to say they had a teacher or two with the same mindset while they were getting their own education. Right back to the status quo we go.

This union issue is pretty depressing, but not because unions in general are inherently good or bad. Bad teachers can't be fired and the option to avoid the bad teachers can't be exercised by many. As the documentaries state, the system is clearly broken, but that's not to say it's broken everywhere. I had the fortune of attending fine schools throughout my education, including public schools from the first day of middle school to the last day of graduate school. I also had a mother that placed a high priority of academic pursuits, just like many of the parents in the films and parents over the past several decades.

As long as there have been schools, there have been good students and bad students, good teachers and bad teachers, good ideas and bad ideas. It is time to take the good and replace the bad, even if the bad was once good. In other words, it's not just the system that's broken, but those at the helm as well. That is to say, it's not just about what others (be it domestically or abroad) are doing right or better, it's what we're doing wrong or worse.

Getting old isn't anything new. Everyone does it and, technically speaking, we all do it at the same time, at the same rate. The differences exist in how each person handles this unavoidable fact. Well, there is one way to avoid it, but we won't go down that path. We've just assigned so much value to how long we've been alive and conveniently have units of measure to help us out with the messy details. Seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, decades, centuries, millennia.

Age really is just a number, but so is your blood pressure, and your salary and your grade in pre-algebra all those months/years/decades ago. Numbers matter. Numbers represent so many different things that represent so much of our lives. Phone numbers, street numbers, social security numbers. Age matters as well. Age dictates when you can drive, vote, drink, smoke, gamble, rent a car, retire.

Ok, now that that is all out of the way, the analysis. Hitting a "milestone" age is always a big deal as you gradually get older. When you're 10, you can't wait to be 16, when you're 16, it's 18. When you're 18, it's 21. When you're 21, your perspective starts to change a bit (unless you've always dreamed of the aforementioned ability to rent a car). Those subsequent years just sort of blur together and are largely indistinguishable. Somewhere in there you might earn a degree, fall in love, take a trip or something else equally significant, but those things are not directly linked to your age.

As the years pass, life becomes less about reaching a certain age so you can do something (like drive, drink, vote) and more about doing things before you reach a certain age (like graduate, get married, have kids, buy a house, make a million dollars). Somehow miraculously, the same 365 days that seemed to never elapse as a kid, can't go slow enough as an adult. People start hearing "clocks ticking" and making marriage pacts with childhood friends. Older relatives' eyebrows start raising and stress starts growing. Every deficiency becomes a priority and every goal becomes that much more past due.

So, upon reaching 30, is there a list of accomplishments that should be marked off? If so, what are they? Are they the same for everyone? Does it really matter? Why do you care what someone else's list looks like? It seems like people have decided the only way to feel better about their own age is to compare themselves with other people at that age, be it past or present. A 30-year old might compare themselves to another 30-year old and see who "wins", or maybe to a 40-year old and see if they're "ahead of the pace", or even to a 20-year old just to make sure they've put enough distance between themselves and the next generation.

Why bother? Every age has advantages and disadvantages. The flip-side of feeling "old" is that at least you've lived to feel old in the first place. If you were still "young", you wouldn't necessarily have that guaranteed. You've survived, you've risen to face a lot of days and lived to tell the tale. Even if your tale won't sell many books, magazines of movie tickets, it's still an accomplishment in itself.

This Trip, Part IX: 29 March 2011

When your home time zone is 6 hours behind Greenwich Mean Time and you’re awake at 5:30am GMT, you know it’ll be a long day. More so, a long day that begins with the usual fretting about getting everything packed and getting to the airport on time. Thankfully all of those worries diminished as the morning progressed and hurdles were cleared. Once I made it to Terminal 4, Gate 14 at Heathrow, I began to notice something odd. There were a few middle-aged men dressed like the band Anvil, complete with long stringy hair, lots of chains, earrings and almost exclusively black clothing. I noticed it, but didn’t really think about it too much until I noticed several more.

Upon boarding, I had to ask the guy behind me the obvious question in the most obvious way possible: "This may seem like an obvious questions, but are you guys in a band?". Of course I knew they were in a band, but it seemed a bit brusque to simply lead off with "What band are you in?". At this point, I was sure this was actually multiple bands, possibly on tour together. Nope, turns out this epic assemblage of rockers was none other than the Trans-Siberian Orchestra, along with their crew and tag-alongs. Most of these tag-alongs came in the form of young girls that could just have easily been their daughters, but there was no hope for such normalcy.

The prospect of a long flight with about 50 grown men on tour was a bit worrisome, especially since they were spread throughout the plane, including directly behind me. I had an exit row seat for this long flight and one of the young groupies was my neighbor, but she made her intent known very quickly that she would be relocating in order to (paraphrasing) "sit next to someone she could fall asleep on". I guess I should consider myself lucky for that little twist of fate and declaration. As it turns out, there were a good many empty seats on the plane and nobody ended up being my neighbor for the flight. Sitting in the exit row without a neighbor actually provides enough space to be comfortable for an 8-plus hour flight.

The most troubling part of the flight was the extremely cold air seeping in the door, next to my feet. I thought it was a little troubling that this air was seeping in at 30,000 feet since the cabin is supposedly pressurized. I finally wedged the little pillow and blanket at my seat in the crack of the door, which helped somewhat. Upon arrival in Detroit, we were very delayed exiting the plane because we didn't have a gate or something. The friendly steward guy was standing next to me, so I mentioned the freezing air coming in during the flight. He just laughed and said that kind of plane (767-400) was prone to do that because there wasn't a perfect seal. I smiled because we were already on the ground.

It was a very bright and sunny day in Detroit, but apparently only about 40 degrees outside. Of course, you'd never know that from the warm confines of DTW, which never fails to impress me as a really nice airport. The weather out of Detroit was also very nice looking, but the invisible wind over Toledo made for a little bit of teeth gnashing aboard the little CRJ200. Nothing against Toledo, per se, but it certainly does not make for a fond remembrance of a place when your stomach is in your throat whilst flying over.

This Trip, Part VIII: 28 March 2011

The last day someplace is bittersweet because you might not be quite ready for home yet, but you also know you have to get back to pick up where you left off. In a place like London, there is always something else to do, so you feel inclined to keep squeezing as much in as possible, but the fact that there’s more to do is sorta exciting because it means you have good reason to return again. How many times do you want to go someplace and do exactly what you’ve done before? It’s nice to repeat some of your favorites, but at least for me, there has to be some new places and new experiences on each trip. Otherwise, it starts to feel like work and you might as well be at home if you’re going to yield to a routine.

This trip was successful in the fact that I visited new places in great frequency and actually never found myself in places like Trafalgar Square and Piccadilly Circus at all. This is probably a good thing considering the protests that bordered on riots on Saturday night. I was actually cruising underneath Trafalgar on the Tube when all that was going on. On the heels of the Belgian excursion, I was exhausted and apparently missed it all. Pictures of me in the midst of a clash between protesters and police involving tear gas, beatings, smashed windows and spray paint would have been great for Facebook. That’s what Facebook pictures need more of: danger.

Safe to say, my stroll through Kensington, Hyde Park and Knightsbridge had very little danger. Some of the rental bike riders were a little cagey, though. Then there were the exuberant young men running out the back door of a building that I only then realized was the Afghanistan embassy. A little while later a pass-by of the Libyan embassy was even more tense, as armed police officers lined the sidewalk in front of the building and protesters with very intimidating flags were across the street. The embassy, on the other hand, was flying the usual solid green flag of Libya. Nothing wrong with keeping it simple.

By pure chance I saw the Twitter tweet from Okkervil River’s Will Sheff that he would be playing solo at St. Pancras Old Church in London on Monday night. At first blush, this seemed like a can’t miss opportunity. Any debate regarding when to leave London ended when this came up. After buying tickets, I later found out it sold out very quickly and apparently less than 100 tickets were available in the first place. The church is actually a church and not some heroin den that might have been a church in a previous life or simply given a church-like name for effect. No, the previous life of this church, which was built in Victorian times, was as a church, as there has been some form of a church at the site since 361 AD.

The show was great, even though doors were at 7:30pm and Will Sheff went on at 9pm. No opener, no nothing, except the conversations of those around me. Will (can I call him Will?) played several new songs throughout the set, but also hit high spots from throughout Okkervil River’s catalog, including a particularly strong rendition of “A Stone” a capella. Patrick, the Okkervil River bassist, joined Will for several songs, but Will finished solo in grand fashion. The climax of the night was Will coming back for an encore only to walk directly to the back of the room, dislocate a couple of audience members from their seats and sit down at an old upright piano that had been hiding in the corner up to that point. The audience shifted to the back of the room and many people stood in chairs as he went through “For Real”, which was greatly appreciated. The show ended with “Happy Hearts”, with the crowd standing right at the stage, without much regard for the rows of tiny wooden chairs set up. There were some sound problems throughout the night and Will can be a bit of a diva at times, but the strength of the set list, the songs themselves and the setting made it an amazing show regardless.

This Trip, Part VII: 27 March 2011

Although it may come as a shock to some people that have traveled with me before, it is nice to have relaxation time while on vacation. I truly believe in the benefits of seeing and experiencing as much as possible, but it is also nice to see and experience things that aren’t necessarily in a guidebook. A trip to the playground at Walham Green and the White Horse on Parsons Green are a perfectly fine way to spend a day in London, even if it never requires riding a bus or the Tube. Even a failed trip to the butcher shop was a welcome diversion from the seemingly constant schedule of busy trains and streets.

That said, thanks to the weather, which was excellent by London-in-March standards, both the playground and White Horse were quite busy. Sitting at a playground can be an odd experience if you’re not a parent and/or not used to sitting at a playground. The kids run around and interact in potentially strange ways, and there are parents mixed in at random intervals. Some of the parents are interacting with one another, while some play with the kids. Others still, stand back and observe. As we discussed while being the sort to sit back and observe, you have to be careful to interact with a kid at some point that is friendly in return to you. This way the other parents don’t get the idea that you’re a pervert that likes to just lurk around the playground and watch the kids. Then there’s the issue of fair play. At what point is your child bothering another child, or are they just playing? How do you know the other child’s “style of play”, much less their parent’s? The benefit of playing the role of “friend of the parents” is that none of it really matters, so long as the kids play, burn some energy and go home satisfied.

The adults can play at the White Horse while the kids play on the patio or the park across the street, which is nice and fair. The place had a slightly American feel to it, but it may have just been because it allowed outdoor seating in slightly American weather. Apparently there are a fair number of Americans living in Fulham, but they didn’t seem to be around us. Mostly under- and/or overdressed Londoners and probably some French. Not a particular reason, though, just guessing. Regardless, the White Horse just seemed to make a simple-minded American feel fairly normal, except maybe for the lady behind the bar that seemed deadest on questioning every request made of her, as if people often come in there just to make completely errant requests that they have no basis for. That sentence ended in a preposition. I do no care. Ok, so yeah, the White Horse on Parsons Green, write that one down.

A trip to an authentic neighborhood butcher would have been a unique treat that would probably somehow trump a walk down the aisle at Whole Foods or Kroger. There is something to be said for that sort of place that provides a specific service, but it also a “part of the community”. I use the quotations because “part of the community” seems to be one of those phrases that have become cliché or just filler. Well, either way, I don’t consider the nice guy at Whole Foods’ seafood counter to be “part of the community”, but I guess he is if the old school butcher gets to be. This particular butcher (and the next one) is only 6/7 part of the community, as they are not open on Sunday.

One place that is open on Sunday and shows no ill effects of it is The Hand in Flower. I had dinner on my 29th birthday here and I had a return engagement this time around. It was good before and perhaps better now. A dining experience is always interesting when a 3 year-old is involved. Not interesting because kids and their behavior are unpredictable, but interesting because there is a potentially precise formula to managing small children in public (or private, for that matter) places. I suppose you just have to figure out what your child’s trigger is for discipline and not be afraid to go back to it time after time. Obviously, for some kids, telling them that security cameras monitor their behavior is reason enough to behave. It especially helps when that child is accustomed to traveling and being in public places that are commonly monitored by cameras. Then, of course, there is the epic trump card of the 21st century, the iPhone/iPod and headphones. The ability to transport that child to another universe without leaving the table is matchless, especially if you tell them people are watching them through security cameras and they’ll be in trouble if they make a sound.

This Trip, Part VI: 26 March 2011

A complimentary breakfast that would normally cost 30 euros is usually something too good to pass up. Unfortunately, such an expensive breakfast, regardless of the quality, would take too long and the return trip to London was already booked and non-flexible. So it was. I returned to the streets of Brussels to find many fewer partiers and carousers as the night before, but quite a few of their leave-behinds on the sidewalks, along with tourists.

A vital piece of the day’s potential success came in the form of Bookoo, a one-day pass for the Brussels Metro. I guess that’s meant to be pronounced beaucoup. Given the honor system set-up of many of the stations I passed through, there must be beaucoup free riders. I missed a fare box or two, but thankfully did not end up in Belgian custody. The use of the Metro probably wasn’t even completely necessary, as much of the parts of Brussels you’d want to see during a one-day visit are within reasonable walking distance. Riding a city’s public transportation is, however, a great opportunity to learn more about the city itself and the people that inhabit it. A few quick pieces of information that are apparent about Brussels based on their Metro: not a lot of English being spoken by choice, a nice mix of old and new, and busy, but not too crowded.

By most accounts, Brussels is a place that prides itself on not taking itself too seriously, as evident by its most celebrated landmark being a 2-foot tall statue of a little boy peeing. Not quite the Eiffel Tower or Big Ben, but just as easy to inspire souvenirs. This little guy, whose name is Mannekin Pis (no, really), can be found virtually anywhere in the old part of Brussels that attracts the most tourists. There are many stories regarding his origins and what he “symbolizes”, but it probably doesn’t really matter at this point. People, although I’m not sure who these people are, have taken to dressing the little guy up in costumes. On the day of my visit, he was wearing a little dress/Cossack/cloak-type thing. However, his “thing”, as always, was still doing its thing, much to the delight of the moderate crowd assembled.

The nice thing about Mannekin Pis is that he is located on a seemingly regular street corner in a tightly-packed part of town, not far off the Grand Place. Although he is protected from his admirers to some extent, the public can get within about five feet and he is not locked in a glass case. At the same intersection are a couple of local establishments that have used their location to their advantage, including a neon sign depiction of the statue’s famed activity. Despite this description, the area still maintains historic appeal.

Apparently much of Brussels was torn down and rebuilt in the early 20th century, in an effort to be a “modern capital city”, rather than a “historical capital city” or just an “appropriate capital city”. Much of the newer development includes huge parks, museums and, more recently, headquarters of the European Commission. These aren’t exactly bad things, but it is a relief that a decent amount of the historic parts remain mostly in tact, along with the newer parts. Everything in moderation.
An example of the old and the new coming together is on display at the Musee Magritte Museum, which is a part of Brussels quite immense Museum of Fine Arts. Rene Magritte was Belgian and great, with this museum being probably the best collection of his work anywhere in one place. A museum dedicated to the work of one artist is fairly rare since either the artist isn’t relevant enough to warrant it, or their art has been bought and sold so much that it is spread across many collections, museums and continents. Regardless, the opportunity to see so much work by one great artist in one great place was well worth the 8 euros. Actually the view of Brussels from the hillside museum’s windows was worth that much.

So yeah, Belgium seems to be best known for three things (other than peeing statues): chocolate, waffles and beer. Not exactly a path to enlightenment or a healthy life. The local businesses don’t seem particularly concerned with this, as the opportunities to partake in any of the three come about once every five steps. Apparently diamonds are also a huge industry in Belgium, particularly Antwerp, but that wasn’t as evident in my surroundings. Everyone must have been broke and in a coma from their chocolate, waffles and beer.

This Trip, Part V: 25 March 2011

It began with one of those weird occurrences, that seem to happen most often when using public transportation in large cities, where you inadvertently find yourself following someone. There was the District Line to Earl's Court, then the transfer, then the Piccadilly train to St. Pancras, then the extremely long transfer to the Eurostar terminal. Opposite sides of a very large city, yet still remaining in the immediate vicinity of the exact same strangers all along. Do they realize what I realize? Are they concerned? Regardless, all of us made it to the Eurostar check-in and then trains would take us to various places, various countries.

And so it was, I boarded the train in London around 7:20am, along with all the others that weren't nearly as overdressed and/or giggly as those waiting for the trains for Paris. The Brussels crowd were a more subdued bunch, a little older and definitely less likely to be wearing sunglasses in a train station barely an hour after the sun had made its initial appearance for the day. Perhaps this string of relatively sunny days has Londoners excited about the concept of actually wearing their purchase whenever possible, given the possibility that a beam of light might actually shoot through a ceiling or window at any time.

The Eurostar was not exactly luxurious, but it was nice enough. Certainly nice enough considering it links three countries, goes underneath a somewhat major body of water, and does so at up to 186 mph. The beauty of internet research became apparent when I noticed my coach/car/whatever, number 5, was roughly half-full, despite being one of only two 2nd class cars with electrical outlets at every seat. This is customary in 1st class, but you have to figure this out for 2nd class. The seats alternate between the UK and Mainland outlet voltages, but thankfully I had a multi-function adapter anyway. Everything felt pretty great once I realized the seat next to me and in front of me were empty. The guy across the aisle was already asleep before the train moved, so it promised to be a nice trip. Then came this guy, talking in a very "entitled" voice to the train employee. It seems they weren't happy with their seats, possibly because the seats faced the opposite direction the train was moving. Mind you, when booking a ticket, this information is readily available to you. However, for whatever reason, this availability must not have applied here. The man, his wife and elderly mother ended up moving to the seats immediately in front of me on both sides of the aisle. Until I could subtly acquire my headphones from my bag (so as to not appear too obvious that my immediate response to their incessant babbling was to do anything I could to drown out their incessant babbling), I listened to some of the most inane and unnecessary chatter perhaps ever uttered, especially since they were unwelcome guests in our peaceful little slice of the universe known as car 5.

Brussels came quite quick, roughly 2 hours, but not too quick to enjoy a nice mix of Wolf Parade and Fruit Ninja on the iPhone. Oh yes, there was also that whole going-under-the-English-Channel-in-a-train thing. That was a unique experience, but only because of what it meant, not necessarily the actual physical experience. That part was basically nothing more than looking out a window into completely blackness for 20 minutes. Not unlike arriving in Brussels and realizing that most people probably speak English, but it isn't exactly advertised. All of the train station signs were in French and Dutch, which is somewhat discernible when you've had two years of French classes in school as recently as 1997, like me. As it turned out, once I stopped looking for the train going to Bruges, but instead for the train going through Bruges, I was set. The train to Oostente would deliver me to Bruges in roughly an hour, with a quick stop in Ghent.

So, just to get it out of the way, I was in fact In Bruges and yes, I did make a point of watching the movie again before this trip. Furthermore, yes, the town is just a nice and charming in that historical way as the movie makes it seem. A few things were slightly different, though. It wasn't snowing. In fact, it was quite mild, probably in the low 60s. Also, there's not really convenient way to jump from the top of the Belfort, as demonstrated by Brendan Gleeson in the movie. However, one thing is for sure, Colin Farrell's character was not unjust in expressing concern for the obese man attempting to climb to the Belfort's top. It is quite a draining experience, despite being less than 400 steps to the top. It gets quite tight and low in some spots too. Doing this in relatively warm weather with a backpack full of important items was quite a workout and produced quite a workout's amount of sweat and gasping for breath. Thankfully, there was lots of natural air conditioning and some very nice views at the top. Looking down on Bruges was sorta like looking down on a little fairy tale place, complete with cathedrals, canals, terracotta roofs and many tourists. Surprisingly (or not, maybe?), despite the movie tie-in and all the tourists, I did not see even a single reference to In Bruges whilst in Bruges.

Lunch was at Cambrinus and it was quite excellent. I can honestly say I'd never had Flemish Carbonades made with Gulden Draak and served with applesauce. I would definitely eat it again, though. I'll have to be on the lookout for that anywhere I am that serves traditional Belgian cuisine other than waffles. It would be nice to have this meal outside the presence of 8-10 extremely loud American fratboy-types that just so happened to be having a bachelor party in Bruges at the same time I was visiting. You go all the way to Bruges and end up in a place with loud Americans and a soundtrack consisting of American classics like Frank Sinatra and...Michael Bolton. Do Europeans actually love Americans that much, or maybe they just like to remind us that we gave the world Michael Bolton and it is our burden to listen to him forever.

The day in Bruges was spent trekking all over this small town, including a first-hand viewing of Michelangelo's Madonna and Childs sculpture, first-hand touching of a sacred relic supposedly containing the blood of Christ and, of course, climbing to the top of the bell tower, which I have only since found out leans about a meter off-center. The historical center of Bruges is so compact that it almost only needed an afternoon to see completely, but a chance conversation with an Englishman at t'Brugs Beertje ended up lasting well into the evening. It was nice to have one of those chance encounter experiences, especially in such a foreign place. It wouldn't have been as nice if it caused me to miss the train back to Brussels, where my points-earned hotel room awaited.

The quick train ride back to Bruxelles Nord deposited me only about 5 minutes from the hotel. It was almost midnight when I got checked in, but I was starving so I walked around a bit. Of course, I ended up on a very busy street in a very busy part of town, yet the best food option I could find was McDonalds. I had an NY Crispy even though I felt like a complete buffoon ordering it by that name. I quickly realized that most of the people around me, including the very many people in the very busy McDonalds, were annoying in the same way as drunken college students might be in the US at midnight on a Friday night. I walked around while I ate the NY Crispy, but never really got away from the noise and crowded streets.

This Trip, Part III: 23 March 2011

To sum it up, passing through immigration/customs at Heathrow is something I've done twice in the past 11 months and something that I would easily rank among my least favorite things to do. As you may know, there are three basic categories of travelers that pass through this particular area. There are those holding a passport from a EU country and those holding a passport from any other country on Earth, along with those from either category lucky enough to be "invited" to the Fast Track lane. Of course, I have since found out that to receive the Fast Track "invitation", you have to have been sitting First Class on your incoming flight. Don't get me started on that, oh wait, nevermind.

It's just uncomfortable standing in this dreary room with a really odd purple-backlit drop ceiling while herding through like cattle, not knowing who might have decided to pick up your bags after they went around the carousel for the 87th time. Then there's the whole experience of watching the EU folks and the Fast Lane folks breeze through their lines in a matter of a very few minutes, while you are still busy trying to figure out exactly how many times the line doubles-back on itself in front of you. With no other international flights coming in that terminal right then, the EU and Fast Track areas become completely empty, which is apparently the cue for most border agents to go on break at once and the remaining ones to get much more surly.

When it comes down to it, this all-encompassing line of "others" is made up of two major groups: the paranoid Americans/Australians/Canadians and the carefree Middle Easterners/Asians that make them paranoid. Then again, spending about an hour and a half packed so close to so many people, some of whom don't take personal hygiene very seriously, might be enough to make anyone paranoid. This is especially true since there's the "penalty box" along side the "others" line, that always seems to have at least one confused and/or disgruntled looking person in it. Strangely, this person also always seems to have some unique identifying trait, namely a turban, thick beard, sari, or what was a new one for me in this instance, hair curls that are most commonly associated with Orthodox Judaism.

So, after about 90 minutes of standing, leaning, squirming, yawning, staring and eye-rolling, the wait was over. Thankfully, my bag was still on the carousel when I arrived to retrieve it and I made my way to to the train. Of course I immediately went to the Heathrow Express entrance instead of the Underground/Tube entrance, just as I did last year when I was in the same position. Thankfully, memory kicked in and I made it onto the right train in the right place.

There's really only one thing that sticks out about the ride on the Piccadilly Line from Heathrow to Earl's Court and the District Line from Earl's Court to Fulham Broadway: those girls. Wow. There were 4 of them, all in their early-mid 20s, wearing various combinations of wife-beater tanktops, baggy jeans, cargo pants, boxer shorts, thick belts, large belt buckles and sunglasses. In addition, they all were drinking bottles of Budweiser and Corona (remember, this is London at 2pm on a Tuesday) and reeked of cigarette smoke and earlier beers. These scents might have been worse if the apparent "leader" of this posse didn't pull a can of deodorant out of her beer-toting purse and "freshen up" right there in the middle of the train car. I guess I haven't mentioned that these girls were literally sitting directly next to me and across from me. I had been riding in that spot since I boarded and had a good place to keep my suitcase next to me, so switching seats wasn't really an option, as the train had filled up by this point. The parts of conversation that weren't completely unintelligible due to that "nasty" kind of British accent, consisted mostly of heavy profanity and/or tales of lesbianism. What it all boiled down to was an opportunity to spend about 30 minutes in a confined space with what amounted to a 4-headed female version of Kid Rock.

After getting settled in at my wonderful friends' place, albeit 3 and a half hours after landing at LHR, the only thing I had energy for was a shower and a walk. The walk's destination was Craven Cottage, home of the English Premier League's Fulham Football Club. It's not a big stadium, but it was something to see and served a good destination requiring about 30 minutes of walking in each direction. Craven Cottage turned out to be about as expected, including its immediate proximity to the Thames. A nice surprise was sunset over the Thames at Putney Bridge and the adjoining Bishop's Park, which includes Fulham Palace and the very old Fulham All Saints Church. However, once it was dark, finding a quick way out of Bishop's Park from where I was was quite a challenge and one that ultimately ended up with the jumping of a fence. It felt strangely appropriate and made for a good end of the day's adventures.

This Trip, Part II: 22-23 March 2011

There is no question that flying First Class (or whatever's equivalent) is truly a wonderful thing. The seats are bigger. The service is more attentive. The drinks are plentiful. The drinks are free. Mainly, though, the seats are bigger. This accomplishes two things: Obviously, by being bigger, there is more cushioning, which in theory makes the seat more comfortable. However, this extra size and padding also inherently positions you farther away from your neighbor than usual. This is the key advantage. Elbow space is not shared. Feet don't bump. People who like to look out the window, yet book seats on the aisle, aren't breathing on you.

The drawback of First Class is that, unless you only fly First Class, it is such a tease. You never want to fly anything but First Class after the first time. Problem is, tickets in First Class are intentionally priced at a prohibitively high level and earning enough frequent flier miles to earn status for such perks is also time consuming and, accordingly, quite expensive. Having done a fair amount of travel in 2010 for work, I have managed to get myself just barely into the realm of upgrades. Unfortunately, the only upgrades I have ever gotten are Salt Lake City to Las Vegas (a flight that covers not even the north-south length of the State of Utah), Las Vegas to Salt Lake City (ditto) and Salt Lake City to Atlanta on a red-eye (this may sound nice, but the only reason I was on this flight in the first place was because a delay in Vegas made me miss my direct connection to BNA in SLC, so I had to fly over-night to Atlanta and catch the first flight of the morning to BNA in time for work that day).

So add another trip to my First Class upgrade ledger. Nashville to Atlanta. 35 minutes in the air. 35 minutes of First Class ego-inflating. I was literally sitting in the chair longer while we were on the ground than when we were in the air. However, I suppose sitting in the First Class cabin is better than sitting at the gate in the terminal. Seriously though, First Class on a 35 minute flight is such a tease when you know you've got an 8-hour flight in Coach/Economy/Whatever coming up. I was actually not bothered when we arrived in ATL, only to find out our arrival gate was still occupied by a departing plane, so we had to sit around and wait about 15 minutes. All told, from initial boarding to final disembarking, my trip to First Class lasted about an hour and a half.

Despite being almost 11pm EDT, Terminal B at ATL still had that usual miserably crowded and noisy atmosphere that can only be expected at that airport. Thankfully Terminal E was quite quiet (yep), except for the blaring broadcast of the Hawks/Bulls game (which the Bulls won by about 749 points) on the TVs in the gates. Terminal E just doesn't have that same "Green Hills on a Saturday afternoon" feel to it as the rest of Atlanta, or excuse me, Hartsfield-Jackson International, Airport. It almost felt like something was missing.

At least the long flight was on a 767-400, which uses a passenger entry point between First Class and Coach. It would have really stung if I had to walk through First Class to get to my measly seat 17A. It soon became apparent that our 11:50pm-departing flight to Heathrow was not going to be a crowded one. A collective sigh of relief must have emanated from everyone on board (or at least in Coach) when they realized the possibility of sleeping might be more likely with 2 or 3 seats to themselves and a statistically lower probability of a screaming baby. One baby really tried to prove that statistics lie when we were taking off, but thankfully the statistics won out and the baby was not heard from again.

Sadly, on the opposite end of the age spectrum fell the man sitting directly in front of me. Actually, his assigned seat was 16B, but once he realized 16A was vacant, he became the occupant of both. Not really a problem in itself, especially since I had 17A&B to myself, but he made it an issue with his direct-impact seat movements and flatulence. Each of his seats, plus the armrest in between managed to find one of my kneecaps at least once. Unfortunately, my knees were not the part of my body that felt the most violated. The smells were awful, but mercilessly absent for much of the middle part of the flight.

Not that it mattered since I couldn't get to sleep anyway. I watched Black Swan, I watched Conviction. I played Angry Birds. I played Tiny Wings. I played Fruit Ninja. I skimmed Sky magazine. Meanwhile, after dinner was served around 1am Eastern, the entire plane had turned into one big slumber party, expect for me and the flight attendants, who kept walking by and asking if I needed anything, as if the only thing keeping me awake at that moment was my lack of a glass of water. Nothing was working, so I started playing a trivia game on the personal TV screen in front of me. That worked to an extent, as I found myself dozing off between questions. However, even still, I could only stay asleep a little while before something, usually the smelly knee-banger in 16A&B, woke me up abruptly. Then I'd realize how uncomfortable I was an not be able to get back to sleep.

Since we were flying east, the sun came up pretty fast and breakfast was served, which got the interior lights turned on and most people up moving around again. Of course, within about an hour and a half of London, my body decided it was ready for sleep. So while everyone else was waking up, I was crashing. I tried watching the Matt Damon-narrated documentary an the 2008 economic crash whose name escapes me, but that only added to the complete crash out. Once we were on the ground at LHR, I drug myself off the plane, blissfully, if not drowsily, unaware of what lay ahead.

This Trip, Part I: 22 March 2011

This trip began somewhat strangely. It was strange because it began at 8 in the evening. Well, it actually began earlier than that because it involved getting on a plane and all the legwork it takes to make that happen. Thanks to wonderful curbside service, I found myself walking into BNA at 6pm. It became immediately apparent that something was different than in my (relatively frequent) previous visits to Nashville "International" Airport.

Being the kind of guy that likes to squeeze every last drop of possible time out of a trip, I seem to always find myself at BNA at 6am (or earlier if the price was get-to-the-airport-even-earlier-than-6am great). The airport is not one of those places that is completely dead early in the morning, despite the best efforts of people like me propping up that notion by constantly booking early flights. It is very likely that you will encounter many people, a disturbingly large portion of whom are large groups of high-school-aged people, wearing flip-flops, sweatpants and in a generally (or completely) incoherent manner. These school trip groups apparently LOVE the early morning departures. Then there are the people that fill the "expert traveler" lane for ID/boarding pass check that are no more an expert traveler than the infant in the stroller they are pushing around in a havoc-wreaking manner. Regardless, it is safe to say that 6am at the airport and 6pm at the airport are two completely different things.

So, as I strode directly up to the Delta self-check-in and baggage drop counter and realized I had the entire Delta customer service universe at BNA to myself at that very moment, I said exactly that to the lady behind the counter. Being at the airport at 6pm feels a lot different than 6am. She agreed, noting that I was on Delta's last flight of the night. To say her customer service was well done and very appreciated would be an understatement. It was almost like it had been so long since she spoon-fed information to a needy customer that she didn't want to miss the chance with me. It was great. SkyMiles card won't scan? No problem, "let me pull it up for you". Your bag is over 50 pounds? No problem, "You're fine". It was weird feeling a momentary sense of sadness that such a pleasant exchange had to end.

The walk around the corner to where the zombie high-schoolers and unfortunate illiterates usually are found was also very different. Not only were neither of the aforementioned population subsets there, nobody was. Just the lane dividers and those signs. In hindsight, I wish I had walked down the lane labeled "I am a complete idiot and am only here to hold up everyone else", just for the experience, but I didn't. I went down "expert" because I wanted to actually walk down that lane and be amazed at how fast I made it through security. And I was. I couldn't resist the urge to share my 6am vs. 6pm thought with the guy checking ID/boarding pass too. Maybe I wanted to make sure that all these BNA employees knew what a stomach-churning experience it is trying to make a flight at 6am. Like they'll go tell their supervisor, "Hey boss, some guy was very happy this evening because we actually were able to do our job in a prompt and friendly manner. Maybe we should try harder to make that happen early in the morning. Maybe?"

All pipe dreams aside, walking directly up to security and not waiting felt like heaven. Like all of sudden, all that is wrong with the world was somehow right. I arrived at the airport 2 hours before my flight and I was at my gate an hour and 50 minutes before my flight. I even realized I had a couple of envelopes to put in the mail before departing, only to find out the airport terminal's out-going mailbox is located "outside" or "in front of" security, depending on who you ask. Regardless, it meant leaving the "secure" part of the building, only to drop two envelopes in the box and then re-enter the secure part. Normally, this would be unheard of. Check ID and boarding pass again. Take off shoes again. Unpack laptop again. Bypass the full-body x-ray scan...not again. I felt like such a conquering hero going through security a second time with literally NO waiting until I paid a price for my good fortune in the form of the dreaded privacy-violating feet-on-the-yellow-footprints-and-hands-in-front-of-your-head thing.

It wasn't that bad. Nobody seemed to be laughing or particularly interested in whatever it was they were seeing, so I moved on through. The rest of the wait was spent calling banks and credit card companies to make sure all of my spending power would be just as powerful overseas as not. Apparently the once-routine practice of making sure your credit cards are "activated" or "approved" for use in other countries isn't so necessary anymore. These calls kept me from fully enjoying my new App Store purchases, Angry Birds: Rio, Tiny Wings and Fruit Ninja. Safe to say, I knew a week-long trip by myself might have a few instances of "down time" needing some quick, mindless entertainment.

It's about time this thing gets some action, so a quick trip to London, including an excursion to Belgium should be as good a reason as any to consume some internet space. A quick change to note, though. As you may know or have noticed, this blog is never written in first-person. You haven't seen any I's, me's, or my's in this thing before, but that now changes. Why? It's needed. This blog isn't necessarily supposed to be about what I (tada!) think, but more like general observations that could belong to any general observer. However, since there is such a small readership, chances are you (yes, you specifically) know me already and read this as if it is me saying it all to you in my typical long-winded fashion. So yeah, that's why. How about a separate entry to get this thing started? Ok, me too...

Even though it's February, it is presently "the middle of football season". This will probably come to the dismay/disgust/annoyance of those who try to deny the greatness of football, but rest easy, this current upswing is very temporary. So temporary, in fact, that it will be over by the time the sun rises tomorrow.

Even though college football season formally ended on January 10 with a hideous and foul thud, the past week of football in America has been made enjoyably relevant by:

1)...the great 2011 edition of the NFL Playoffs. This year's playoffs have been full of close games, intrigue, standout performances, trash talk...and foot fetish references. What more could you ask for? The NFL might have asked for more since the established triumvirate of quarterback star power in the league, Tom Brady/Peyton Manning/Drew Brees, went a collective 0-3 this January. These three Super Bowl champs have had the spotlight stolen by younger QBs like the unbelievably impressive Aaron Rodgers and the potentially lucky Mark Sanchez. Of course, there's always Ben Roethlisberger, who already has 2 Super Bowl wins, but whose legacy is already (and justifiably so) defined by motorcycle wrecks and sexual assault accusations in Tahoe and Georgia.

Despite the utterly contemptible nature of Big Ben and some of his teammates, the truly redeeming part of the Steelers is their coach, Mike Tomlin. He's as impressive of a young coach as the NFL has ever seen. It is almost unbelievable to think he could have two Super Bowl victories under his belt well before his 40th birthday, with a potential for 20 or 30 more years of coaching to go. Between Tomlin and Aaron Rodgers, the Super Bowl is definitely worthy of attention this year, even if all anyone wants to talk about are the off-field indiscretions of the Steelers' current QB and the Packers' former one. Oh yeah, there's always the commercials and the Black Eyed Peas halftime show.

2)...College Football Signing Day, clearly the biggest day in college football between the BCS Championship and the start of the following season. Unfortunately, what was once an honest and exciting day of players announcing their intentions, complete with smiling parents, awkward coaches and goofy hats, has turned in a media spectacle, just like everything else. Each February, the ante is upped for who can make the biggest splash with not just their recruitment, but their announcement that culminates it all. Well, as of last year, the big announcement is not the culmination in some cases. There seems to be an emerging trend of top offensive linemen recruits having trouble making up their minds on where they want to play in college. Last year, Seantrell Henderson, from Minnesota, committed to USC, but reneged after the NCAA put the Trojans on probation, as if every single person on Earth didn't see that coming. Regardless, that level of indecision was clearly trumped by this year's #1 offensive line recruit, Cyrus Kouandijo, from suburban Washington DC in Maryland. Although his brother is already on the team at Alabama, he apparently had a great weekend visit to Auburn the weekend before Signing Day, so he announced his commitment to Auburn on national TV in a planned event at his high school. However, the recruiting process isn't over at the announcement. There still has to be paperwork filed and it never came (Jokes about there not being fax service to Auburn notwithstanding) for Kouandijo the Younger. Well, three days later, Cyrus is on board at Alabama and there's paperwork to back it up this time.

That little story is not meant to salt Auburn's wounds (for once), even though it came on the heels of another top-notch recruit, Brent Calloway, initially giving his preference to Alabama, then committing to Auburn on a nationally televised stage, only to switch back to Alabama. The same thing could just as easily happened to Alabama or any other school, but it shows part of what is wrong with the system. Unfortunately there isn't really an easy fix and as the national media (especially ESPN) become more and more enamored with the whole process, it is highly unlikely to get any better anytime soon. This year's edition of Signing Day also featured such sterling subplots as:

-The SEC receiving a complaint from a member school because Alabama used "provocatively" dressed females to post the names of players that had sent in their faxed letters of intent on a webcam. Was this a necessary move by Alabama? Absolutely not. Is this a complete non-story since the girl in the "provocative" outfit was a member of the Alabama dance team that works in the football office and was performing at a basketball game the same night in said "provocative" outfit? Absolutely.

-Ok, here's one that went against Alabama. The nation's #1 running back recruit, Isaiah Crowell, from Columbus, Georgia picked his home-state Bulldogs over Alabama. Not only did he pick the Bulldogs, he literally picked up a Bulldog as part of the process. This goes far beyond the hat or balloons behind the table that have become so played out, but was actually a little endearing...in a way. General consensus would dictate that the puppy is cute, so this was a fairly cute moment. Sadly though, it came just days before the extremely premature death of Georgia's real bulldog mascot, UGa VIII.

-Then there's the story of Floyd Raven, from Louisiana, who apparently was having a difficult time deciding between scholarship offers from Ole Miss and Texas A&M. Since these are still 18 year old dependents, they are not always equipped to make big decisions and the person most likely to step in, usually does. In this case, it was deemed an honest mistake, but it is hard to call forgery an "honest" anything. By nature, forgery is quite dishonest, but all's fair in love, war and big-time college football recruiting.

3)...the NFL labor dispute. Well, given that today is Super Bowl Sunday, this very important issue is completely unimportant for the next 10 hours or so. Try again on Day-After-Super-Bowl Monday.

19. The Walkmen - Lisbon

The Walkmen do not make bad albums. They have a characteristic sound, defined by lead vocalist Hamilton Leithauser's wails, howls and yelps, but it never gets old. You never get the sense that they've made the same album as before and they always find ways to make great songs fit nicely around Leithauser's distinct voice. Although the vocals will always be the most recognizable aspect of any album by The Walkmen, the vocals do not necessarily always overpower. The diverse sounds that the band have used over the years always comes through, no more so than the surfy/beachy guitars on the appropriately-titled "Angela Surf City".

18. Superchunk - Majesty Shredding

It's weird to think of Superchunk as "venerable" or "legends", but their deserving place among such descriptors is clearly evident. Over 20 years, they've released a number of great albums, but no albums of any kind since 2001 and none this good since probably 1995. Their sound has been "maturing" for quite a while now, but it had maybe become too mature, so a step back to the mid-90s is nice to see and hear. You'll still be hard-pressed to see a more energetic live show than Superchunk's, even in 2010/2011.

17. Stornoway - Beachcomber's Windowsill

Stornoway is a city in far northern Scotland, in the Hebrides. It is also a band from Oxford, England that plays the ever-popular British alternative indie folk music, with vocals that sound not unlike Colin Meloy of The Decemberists at times. The songs have a singalong feel in typical folk fashion, with understated dignity. Electric and acoustic instrumentation, along with some horns, add variety to a steady collection of songs.

16. Menomena - Mines

This album felt like it was a long time coming and while it does not quite live up to the standard set by 2007's Friend and Foe, it is still very good. Menomena make albums with lots of moving parts, lots of sounds, lots of creativity and tie it all together quite well. A lot is made of their instrumentation, but part of what makes this band great is their ability to put it all together into a crisp, clean and cohesive package.

15. Free Energy - Stuck On Nothing

If you've read the posts leading up to this list, you know LCD Soundsystem will not be making an appearance. However, Mr. LCD Soundsystem himself, James Murphy, does, as the producer of this 70s throwback. The album, which is the Philadelphia band's debut, came out just before summer and definitely fits that "summer album" mold. There are catchy hooks in both the music and vocals, but these aren't simply two-minute pop songs. There's enough going on here to hold your attention, but the classic rock sound is straightforward enough to keep even a casual listener interested.

14. Black Rebel Motorcycle Club - Beat the Devil's Tattoo

BRMC have always made great albums, but their last effort, Baby 81, felt like maybe they were past their prime. That's not an awful thing to say about a fourth album when the first three are all excellent, but certainly not an encouragement for number five (not counting instrumental album The Effects of 333). Well, their return to form is truly a return to form that effectively brings together the sound that distinguished each of those first three albums. There's the My Bloody Valentine fuzz, the gospel dirges, the folk strumming and, of course, the easily identifiable dual vocals. Hopefully this album signals a rejuvenation for the band and is the start of another string of excellent releases.

13. Futurebirds - Hampton's Lullaby

This seemed like a bit of a down year for the ever-broadening category of alt-country, which seems to be trending toward bluegrass more and more. Thankfully, a band like Futurebirds released their debut and it was quite good. These guys are from Athens, Georgia and pull together a lot of different sounds, especially having no less than three vocalists sing lead on different songs. One sounds like Neil Young. One sounds like whichever King of Leon sings. One sounds like neither. Despite the vocal schizophrenia, it holds together well-enough to be reminiscent of a Drive-By Truckers album, which is a good thing.

12. Tokyo Police Club - Champ

Despite being their second full-length album, Champ by no means is an example of a sophomore slump. It takes what was a decent album (2008's Elephant Shell) and makes it better. Bands should get credit where it is due and TPC are due. The album has spirit and is almost silly at points, but it never becomes a distraction.

11. Titus Andronicus - The Monitor

What is not to love about a hard and occasionally profane romp through long songs inspired by the Civil War and Springsteen worship? The seeming disarray and wheels-about-to-come-off spirit of this album are only part of what make it great. The spoken word interludes add to the overall theme and feel of the record, but seem unnecessary. The songs do plenty of talking on their own, namely in a voice reminiscent of (primarily Desparecidos-era) Conor Oberst.

10. Male Bonding - Nothing Hurts

This punky British debut took a little while to reveal its greatness, but its brief running length (under 30 minutes for 13 songs) lends itself well to repeated listens. The vocals are buried very deep in the recording mix, which works well on some of the slower/spacier songs, but is almost frustrating during the faster ones with less vocal harmony and more vocal words. Maybe in 30 years this album will be remastered and reissued and the purists will hate it, but until that time, a cleaner recording would have made a great album better.

9. Jonsi - Go

As the frontman for one of this generations most impressive bands, Sigur Ros, Jon Thor Birgisson ("Jonsi") has very little left to prove. His voice is instantly recognizable and the music he plays is greeted with almost universal reverence. However, while the rest of his Sigur Ros bandmates were off taking breaks to start families, he did not take much of a break himself. His solo debut allows him to make and release music that does not really sound like Sigur Ros in many places, while bringing in enough of what makes Sigur Ros great to not be a complete departure. There are fast songs, slow songs, "big" songs, "little songs" and legitimate pop songs, which Sigur Ros has never really put out. Future Sigur Ros releases are eagerly awaited, but it was nice to know that there's always the potential for a welcomed intermission.

8. Frightened Rabbit - Winter of Mixed Drinks

The splash created by Frightened Rabbit's breakthrough, Midnight Organ Fight, would be tough to replicate, so it came as little surprise that this album was kinda slow to reveal its greatness. There are some great hooks and memorable lyrics here, but not the kind that instantly stick in your head like Midnight. As a bit of a slow-burner, repeated listens were needed, but well worth it. It will be interesting to see if the current torch-bearers of the most recent Scottish invasion can keep it up on a major label, but until then, another worthy contribution has been made that would make Billy Bragg (yes, he's English) proud.

7. Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin - Let It Sway

This band might be one cumbersome name away from a much bigger presence. Not that the name should make the band, but SSLYBY is an awfully heavy name for a band to carry around. It barely fits on album covers. It probably can't fit on most venue marquees. It makes them sound like a drunken Russian cover band. In spite of this, they write mostly-upbeat indie rock songs, which is not an extremely common occurrence lately. Maybe a little Shins-like at times?

6. Beach House - Teen Dream

For whatever reason, it took Beach House's third full-length to really make an impact, but better late than never. This degree of exposure and popularity will surely boost sales of those first two albums, though. As for Teen Dream, its not hard to come up with descriptive adjectives that make it so easy and pleasant to listen to the album. The lush instrumentation and truly hypnotic vocals define these songs and its hard to really think of the songs individually, as the album fits together so well. This album will definitely be played for sleeping babies for many years to come.

5. The National - High Violet

Matt Berninger's voice. Either you love it or you hate it. There's no getting around it. If you happen to like his voice and accept the fact that there will never be a great deal of range on display, you can get past that issue and enjoy everything else happening on this record. This album just sounds good, in that warm way and there is always something interesting going on behind the trademark vocals. The National deserve special credit for taking something that might be seen as a limitation (that voice) and managing to release three exceptional albums over the past five years that each possess an individual identity.

4. Wintersleep - New Inheritors

This was definitely the out-of-nowhere album of the year. A virtually unknown band from Halifax, Nova Scotia is not likely to show up on many radar screens and this album is no exception. In fact, you're unlikely to find this one on any other lists (outside the Maritime Provinces, that is). Of course, the internet is the great equalizer (along with an opening slot on a Hold Steady tour). Lead vocalist Paul Murphy's voice might take a little getting used to, as it is nasal-y and fairly dramatic in a Michael Stipe kind of way. Beyond that, this album is full of guitars, layers, textures (whatever that means) and good songs.

3. Arcade Fire - The Suburbs

There is very little that can be said about this band that has not been said before. They are the definitive indie rock band on Earth and they rarely do anything that suggests anything different. This year was clearly "their" year, complete with a sold-out Madison Square Garden serving as their coronation. The Suburbs is obviously a concept album and it is nice to see that this label is not met with a snicker or roll of the eyes, as it might have previously been. Thank albums like OK Computer and Domestica for that. This album might be a little too long and a little too easy-going, but that illustrates part of what Arcade Fire does so well. They can release a bona-fide 15+ song album about growing up in the suburbs (namely The Woodlands in Houston, Texas) and still top many lists.

2. Wolf Parade - Expo 86

This is getting ridiculous. Last year, Sunset Rubdown took #1 and this year, Spencer Krug's "other" band takes #2. Of course, Wolf Parade's songwriting and vocalist duties are shared (very capably) with Dan Boeckner, which gives this album a sense of variation that might be missing from Sunset Rubdown albums. If you're not crazy about Krug's songwriting or vocals, fear not, there's a completely different side to a Wolf Parade record. Regardless of who is singing, the songs are always unique, but no less spot-on. You almost forget there are two different singers with two different styles because it all adds up to another great album.

1. Mumford and Sons - Sigh No More

Yes, this album experiencing a swell of hype and fanaticism that might make it seem too "mainstream" or too "popular" or too "fratty" or too "adult contemporary" or too "lame" or too whatever. Thing is, it is really great and that point has been made here before. The folksy thing is definitely on an upswing and this album might have set the standard by which a genre will be defined. The music is interesting and well-played and the lyrics are obviously thought-out and emotional. There's even references to one of the greatest books ever written, East of Eden, interspersed. The next time you see Mumford and Sons on a high-schooler's Facebook page, just remember you're likely to see Radiohead, U2, Led Zeppelin, The Beatles and The Rolling Stones on there as well. Are you ashamed to like those bands? Find your personal meaning in the songs you're hearing and try to understand what the writer intended. That's what separates you from the squealers.

Here goes the Top 39 of 2010. Significance of 39? Absolutely none. Enjoy!


39. The Morning Benders - Big Echo : A good album with a most notable song made for television commercials.

38. The Hold Steady - Heaven Is Whenever : Yet another solid album by Minneapolis' finest, complete with a standout opening track.

37. Tift Merritt - See You On The Moon : A very nice girl with a very nice voice...and a very nice appearance by Jim James.

36. Sharon Van Etten - Epic : The new blood of somewhat morose female singer-songwriters.

35. The Autumn Defense - Once Around : Extremely easy-going Wilco side-project that bridges the gap until their next masterpiece.

34. Spoon - Transference : Even more stripped down and less rock-driven than before. It's good, but further movement in this direction could take minimalist to a new place.

33. Band of Skulls - Baby Darling Doll Face Honey : See this blog.

32. Belle & Sebastian - Write About Love : Welcome return of a great band that hadn't been heard from in a while. Interesting guest appearance by Norah Jones. Even more interesting guest appearance by Carey Mulligan (the actress).

31. The Soft Pack - s/t : San Diego band formerly named The Muslims. Probably a wise move to change names...and release a great record.

30. Black Mountain - Wilderness Heart : Not quite on the level of In The Future, but still good.

29. Sufjan Stevens - All Delighted People EP / The Age of Adz : The EP served as a nice transition to the "new" Sufjan, which sounds like a remix of old Sufjan. This new stuff was better than feared, but definitely sad to see the banjo replaced by synth on the full-length. Nice to have Sufjan releasing new material, though.

28. The Besnard Lakes - ...Are The Roaring Night : "Albatross" is epic and the rest of the album isn't far behind.

27. Shearwater - The Golden Archipelago : Once you come around on Jonathan Meiberg's uniquely dramatic vocals, this albums just keeps giving you more and more to like.

26. Justin Townes Earle - Harlem River Blues : A good album with an unquestionably great opener/title track.

25. Josh Ritter - So Runs the World Away : Another solid record from one of the most consistent (and charismatic) artists in the singer-songwriter universe.

24. Phosphorescent - Here's To Taking It Easy : After an opener titled "It's Hard To Be Humble (When You're From Alabama)", it never really mattered what the rest of it sounds like. Thankfully, it's not a let-down.

23. The Fresh and Onlys - Play It Strange : A relative late-comer to the list that starts stronger than it finishes. Hints of the Clearlake albums from a few years back, if any of you remember those on the Best of '03 and '06 compilations.

22. Broken Social Scene - Forgiveness Rock Record : About what you'd expect from a creative group of approximately 47 Canadians, in a good way.

21. The New Pornographers - Together : More large assemblages of creative Canadians, including the three-headed monster of greatness that is Carl Newman, Neko Case (actually an American) and Dan Bejar.

20. Midlake - The Courage of Others : Seemingly forgotten release that might not have the immediate appeal of Van Occupanther, but certainly not far behind on overall quality.

Ok, the next step in the grand process, the Honorable Mentions. Each of these releases were quite good and very well may have been ranked in another year, but just did not have the extra juice to make the big list in 2010. This past year proved to be pretty deep in great releases, so there's no shame in making this list. Maybe a Top 100 of the year would cover all the bases? No, you're right, that would be ridiculous and you probably would not read the whole thing. Anyway, it would be a shame to let these go completely unnoticed, so here's this quick consolation, in alphabetical order:

Against Me! - White Crosses
Avi Buffalo - s/t
Band of Horses - Infinite Arms
The Black Keys - Brothers
Born Ruffians - Say It
Broken Bells - s/t
Deftones - Diamond Eyes
Engineers - Three Fact Fader
Interpol - s/t
Kopecky Family Band - The Disaster
Kylesa - Spiral Shadow
MGMT - Congratulations
No Age - Everything In Between
Sleigh Bells - Treats
Sun Kil Moon - Admiral Fell Promises
The Thermals - Personal Life
Wild Nothing - Gemini

Even though 2011 is 2 weeks old, it's time to jump back to the Best of 2010 music. This is the post that may raise the most eyebrows (if anyone actually cares). This is the list of those less fortunate, those that didn't quite make the cut this time around...the NEGATIVE list. These are the albums that seem to appear on most year-end lists, but not in these parts, along with a quite reason why. There are as many different reasons why as there are entries on this list. Without further ado, here goes...

Kanye West - My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy

Obviously, this blog isn't somewhere you come for stirring insight into hip-hop records, so you can't really expect a deep justification here. How about the fact that this record didn't really seem any different/better than West's previous albums, 808's and Heartbreaks not withstanding. Maybe it's completely different and infinitely better than previous efforts, but it just didn't tell everyone this.

Deerhunter - Halcyon Digest

A nice sounding record and the most-enjoyed of any this Atlanta-based band has released. It seems like the consensus places this at or near the top of the list for rock albums in 2010. Again, it sounded nice, but just failed to hold attention and it's hard to rank an album with that cross to bear.

LCD Soundsystem - This Is Happening

If every song could sound like "All My Friends" from 2007's Sounds of Silver, this album could easily be deserving of the esteem it has been given this year. Instead, there's "Drunk Girls". Pass.

Vampire Weekend - Contra

Both of Vampire Weekend's albums have been pleasant listens, with that preppy, jangly, beachy, Afro-Cuban sound. However, this all adds up to records that are remarkably unremarkable. This isn't a knock on the band or their albums, but there just isn't any "edge" to the music and that makes it sorta forgettable.

Gorillaz - Plastic Beach

You know, that "Clint Eastwood" song was pretty enjoyable when it came out and still isn't bad to hear every once in a while. Aside from that fact, it is hard to imagine Damon Albarn's efforts being best put to use with Gorillaz, the first "virtual band" or something like that. Is anyone still fascinated by "the band" being comprised of animated cartoons? Blur kinda-sorta got back together at some point over the past few years, but its too bad that didn't last, but Gorillaz do.