blog #7 The Open Water

Contentment, happiness and joy are all examples of the aspirations we all strive to experience during the minimal moments of leisure found periodically through out the monotonous hustle and bustle of what is our reality. This concept is apparent to all of us when after a long day of school or work when we plop down on the most comfortable piece of furniture kick off our shoes to let the dogs breath and exhale that deep relaxing sigh of relief. This search for relief is naturally perceived by most but one of the first to academically analyze this concept was a world renowned psychologist Sigmund Freud, who concluded the Pleasure Principle; The ideology that our purpose in life is to seek gratification. This satisfaction is explored by many through a myriad of avenues. For some the expression of self through art or the ability to convey emotions through music are great solutions to this goal but others are inclined to a more active form of finding joy. To some the feeling of reeling in that majestic aquatic beast after a long arduous battle between man and animal is the most gratifying. Fishing for some is more than a hobby its a way of life and  the inevitable wait for that trophy prize is sublime.
Shore anglers in rural areas make up the majority of the percentage of people who indulge in the sport but an increasing spike in the percentage of urban dwelling individuals is rapidly catching up. Fishing is a sport dictated by seasonal patterns and strictly regulated by an array of restrictions. Guidelines set up to up keep the delicate ecosystem that so many humans rely on for livelihood and recreation. As an avid fisherman myself I become ecstatic when January first rolls around in my current area of Oregon. That marks the opening day of trout season in Oregon. Fishing is not an easy sport it requires patience, technique and quite frankly luck. In appliance with Oregon fishing and wildlife services my attempts to capture my elusive adversary become snagged by more meticulous regulations such as only being allowed to use barbless hooks and the constant presence of peering enforcement through magnified eyes ensures this. However an adamant angler does not let anything stop him from acquiring that feel of admiration fishing employes on its enthusiasts even if you don't get a bite all day. You wake up the next morning and cast that line back in the open water.

Blog #6 PEDs

The use of performance enhancing drugs in sports is an ever prevailing force that is not only tarnishing athletes reputations but demoralizing the essence of competition. Baseball, Basketball and Football have been a significant aspect of our culture for generations. Sports used to represent a sense of unity and in some instances attributed to the immersion of two separate cultures. For example lacrosse, a game adapted from Native American tribes indigenous of Canada was originally a "war game," mean to teach military tactics. With the introduction of Europeans this immersion between two separate cultures evolved into the game that we associate with today as the affluent sport of lacrosse.
Sports used to represent much more than gathering in a man cave with a cooler full of frosty bud lights plopped in front of the boob tube and the athletes who are participants are now expected to live not only by higher physical expectations but moral as well. I am not saying our lethargic approach as fans to the perception of sports is dictated by the growing trend of steroid use but they are correlated. The culture of sports has dramatically shifted in play and perception. Not only do fans expect more from athletes but coaches and recruiters are raising the expectancy to be at physical perfection. In sports talent dictates livelihood and in a rapidly growing competition base athletes make decisions to illegally race to be the best. Increased physical talent that simply could not be naturally acquired pressures other athletes to indulge in banned substances. The use of performance enhancing drugs is not only cheating the sport but its cheating the millions of people who idolize these artificially enhanced superior physical specimens.  
 In this culture it is a fact that people idolize super star's, through posters on walls, media, and monuments. The superior athlete used to be an iconic symbol and in some instances represented civil rights movements. Cases like Jackie Robinson, the first professional African American baseball player represented an entire race of individuals and was a symbol of change. Recently the Barry Bond's posters have been ripped off the walls and Live Strong bracelets cut off wrists through this prevailing trend of performance enhancing drug use.
While the majority of the adult population may be discouraged by these actions of betrayal and deceit the inspirational qualities sports generate have not detached everyone, instead it raises another issue. The use of performance enhancing drugs in adolescents is in a neck to neck race with use at a professional level. Trends are a very prominent aspect of our cultural; from musical and art movements to the shift from pompadours and leather jackets. Trends most of all influence the new emerging generation of adolescents and the prevalent trend of succeeding physically through any means is a dangerous one. I feel sports play a tremendous role in building character and preservation of values but this ideology that success by any means is being instilled in our professional and amateur athletes alike and it is deteriorating the moral and cultural foundation that sports were built on.

On A Pill

Hypothyroidism, also known as an under active metabolism is a condition that lowers the production of essential hormones. Hormones that are vital to the physical and mental development of people. A slow metabolism is often associated with the senior citizen with male patterned baldness who not only lacks physical interaction but is not mentally stimulated on a regular  basis. This assertion that hypothyroid is indicative of your age or even the lifestyle you lead is not always the reason. The exception to the statistical information is that I am physically active and utilize my mental abilities on a regular basis yet I have been eating a little yellow pill every morning before my breakfast for the last fifteen years of my life. This unfortunate condition that has been posed upon me was not a choice. I don't believe any person would choose to have to work three times as hard as a person with a normal functioning metabolism just to appear healthy. My condition and this mandatory consumption of a Synthroid pill are a genetic result of a handed down tradition through out my family for generations. This condition that is responsible for causing excessive fatigue, slow mental development, inability to metabolize food at a normal rate and a myriad of other negative symptoms is not very genetically prevalent. Besides the thousands of individuals over the age of fifty whose metabolisms have naturally declined I am the lucky adolescent benefactor who has inherited the condition. In fact, in the United States one in five thousand children genetically contract hypothyroid annually. I am not certain of the United States population but I feel it is not an everyday occurrence that on the glorious day of child birth the doctor informs the two previously exuberant parents that their new born will have a life lasting condition that will negatively influence the way they live for the rest of time.
As a carrier of this condition since a new born I have not really looked into the exact cause of my hypothyroidism or even the anatomical location of my "thyroid." The thyroid is in fact the largest endocrine gland in the body and rests in your throat right below the larynx. As I previously stated the gland produces thyroid hormone responsible for physical body and mental growth; regulating breathing, maintaining a stable body temperature, producing energy and digesting food. These are the main functions the thyroid produces but the lack of an efficient thyroid can be far more detrimental to the human body. In cases when babies genetically receive this condition the affects can be very extreme. One such affect is that it reduces the ability to develop cognitively often leading to mental retardation. The physical toll an inefficient thyroid has on a child can go as far as delaying puberty and stunting growth. In some severe instances children can even lead to ataxia, which is the inability to coordinate muscle movement.
For my last nineteen years here on this earth I consider myself a fortunate individual.  I have not suffered any of the severe side effects of a less efficient thyroid gland that I covered. I do experience excessive fatigue and who knows maybe I will suffer from baldness when I am older. But as of now my life does not seem to out of the ordinary.The monotonous task of consuming this little yellow pill every morning has just become a habit; it is as regular as stepping one foot in front of the other as I walk. If This condition that I've had for nineteen years and will have until the day I rest six feet under has taught me anything it is that some people have to work harder for what they want than others. I don't ever publicize my condition because I know there are other individuals who may have experienced the more severe side of the side effects as children, I just try my best to compensate for this discrepancy and have become a harder worker because of it, physically and mentally. 

Blog #4

The vast valley consisting of shoulder to shoulder trees, Rapid white water streams and countless species of blood thirsty parasites was the epitome of the Canadian Wilderness. This foreign thicket would be my home for the next several weeks. I was not taking on this risky excursion by myself, the group I was traveling in consisted of nine teenage boys including myself and two older guides who were also male. During this travel across the untamed outdoors we were forced to confront many of natures formidable obstacles.
The main way of transportation during this trip was by a three person canoe made of a very heavy aluminum canoe unlike the much more portable fiberglass and kevlar options. However, to get from our starting point to our destination would require several other means of travel. When a portion of land would appear we would have to dock our canoes on shore and hastily unpack all of our belongings. The act of portaging is physically overwhelming and often times very dangerous. There were hundreds of miles through out that trip that we had to balance huge aluminum weights on our shoulders and proceed up and down steep and windy trails.
At one monumental point in travel we came across a portaging scenario but this would not be a normal right of passage. As we ascended up a steep hill with seventy pound bags on our backs and these unorthodox aluminum mosquito traps swinging on our shoulders. Trudging onward through the trail the physical exhaustion and relentless swarm of ravenous mosquitoes was nothing out of the ordinary. It was what we laid our eyes upon when we reached the top that would disrupt our pathway to carry on any further.
I was the first person to reach the peak we had been pursuing towards for almost an hour and when I saw what lay before me I was both frustrated and astonished. I forced the massive piece of metal onto the hardened dirt ground, lacking any technique as it created a whirlwind of dust from all angels when it plummeted to the ground. When the shower of dust began to whisk away in the breeze I gazed down from the towering cliff that I had conquered. I became petrified as I peered over the thousands of century old trees. Each one waving in the wind in unison as if they were taunting my inability to proceed onwards. The distinct yet miniscule stream of blue tore right through the sea of green. The reflection of the glaring sun on the water surface glistened like the north star illuminating our destination.
The rest of the group piled in beside me each having similar reactions to yet another one of natures adversities. The sun began to recede behind the colossal horizon of stone and tree motivating us to act fast. The solution to proceed would be half of the group and one guide go back down the portage trail and paddle as many canoes around the mountain to the stream which lay a death defying drop below where we stood. The rest would take the direct route, to repel down this highly elevated and loosely packed cliff.
As the rest of the group vanished down the trail the other five of us began to gear up. I grabbed the largest harness I could find. I stepped my right leg through the frayed harness and then proceeded with the left. I cinched the harness tight to my waist to ensure safety and clipped a rusty metal clasp to the front of my gut. I meticulously wrapped the safety rope around myself making sure not to miss a single belt loop. Lastly I placed a paper thin helmet on my head and formed it to my head size. I was ready for my descent. As I shuffled with my back towards the cliff sweat began to seep out of my pores and my previously firm grip began to let up as wiped my palms on my T shirt. As I neared the edge I pulled the threaded black harness against my waist three times to make sure there was no give. I hesitated before becoming parallel with the floor of green before me, not even able to distinguish the ground from the canopy tops. With every slip of traction descending down the cliff side I became less confident. Watching the stones and pebbles plunge downwards I began to envision myself doing the same. With every release of slack from up top the cliff I soared downward free falling in mid air. I repositioned my dirt covered boots into two holes in the cliff side, regained my composure and began the second half of the drop. With each step dust flourished every which way and masked the immense drop which waited below me. carefully inching my way foot by foot rock by rock I reached the bottom and stared up at the monumental feat I had just conquered.

The Heist of a Lifetime

It was a quarter to four in the morning when I abruptly wrestled my eyes ajar. It was not the blaring of the untimely street cleaner curbside to my window nor the ambient wine of the flickering fluorescent outside my door that woke me. It was the churning deep in my gut and the sudden apparition of succulent meat lasagna, fresh crunchy bruschetta, and bulbous meatballs smothered in a thick red gravy rotating over my head like a mobile that motivated this heist.
 I had been at my grandparent's suburban New York home for an entire twelve hours and I was already suffering from unnerving urges to indulge my ravenous appetite for my grandmother's "world famous meatballs."Nothing could suppress my urges; not the jet lag, my hawk of an aunt, or the decrepit home built wood stairs that spiraled down three flights.
I rolled out of bed landing upright on my feet standing at attention ready to embark on my mission. The premeditated retrieval of theses divine, mouth watering spheres.
As I eased the door open I firmly grasped the knob cautious not to release it to quickly. The once ambient drone of the light became significantly louder now and felt as if each flicker shot shivers down my spine. I pushed the fear to the back of my mind and descended down the ancient spiral of unprofessionally nailed planks. I slid off the last step breathing a sigh of relief as I inched my way into the kitchen. Searching aimlessly through the blanket of night for the refrigerator handle I was sure I had woken somebody up. But nothing could deter my efforts at this point. I hastily threw the door against the wall as I began to rummage through the variety of entrees and desserts. There it was, center stage with an aura of light surrounding transparent Tupperware as if it had been summoned by the gods.
The hands on the wall adjacent to me began to race clockwise as it became more apparent my time was running short. I unveiled my trophy from the shelf and heaved it on the counter top. As I opened the holy grail aromas instantaneously transferred to my taste buds. I thrust my longest finger, the middle one, to extract the maximum amount of this mesmerizing gravy possible. Ah, the explosion of flavor reminded me that I had to get the succulent spheres up to my room all for myself.  
I plopped five juicy wads onto my plate and sprinkled a myriad of cheeses on top. 
Then came the hard part, heating the dish up. I pried the microwave door open, slid the plate in and secured the door shut. Now a countdown of two minutes and thirty second is all that stood between my and this steaming edible tradition. I procured the bubbling mound of meat and melted cheese from the microwave. Now with the prize in hand I spared no hesitation but extreme caution as I began my ascent up the last obstacle that remained between me and complete bliss. When I reached the top and sat back into my bed I ruthlessly began to immerse my self in the heavenly saucy red platter. The indulgence of my craving made me blind to the repercussions. Like when we would al sit down at the next dinner and that inevitable desire presents itself once again. 

My First Championship

Back in the Spring of 2011 one of the most electrifying yet controversial happenings in my sports career occurred. It was scorching hot day under the unrelenting UV rays of the Los Angeles sun. I stepped my foot on the rubber turf when my feet ignited to at least a ten degree increase in temperature. With each step further the rubber coals beneath my feet began to turn a fiery red as unrelenting as the sun. The churning in the pit of my stomach ached so agonizingly from my inevitable flight sickness. All adversities aside I was on that field for one reason and one reason only, to win the Lacrosse California state championship.
After the first day of practice the team became more acclimated to the new surroundings. Throughout the practices we became more confident as a team and morale began to skyrocket with anticipation of the first game. The first opponent we faced were the defending Arizona state champions and there was nothing particularly significant about that game beside the fact we won. The next few games emulated the first and a win streak commenced. It was during the semi final game of the championship when the controversy manifested.
It was a long arduous battle which ultimately resulted in a deflating sense of self loathing, with every member of the team replaying everything they had done wrong like a never ending horror movie. That evening when we were all summoned to a team meeting with our coach. He informed us that our opponent we had lost to earlier that day had been caught for cheating. They had recruited amateur lacrosse players from through out the United States the prior week. Most of these players had been graduated from high school for a few years. The disqualification of the team who had brought our entire season to a screeching halt posed a variety of emotions. The overwhelming excitement of this rejuvenation of our season had players and parents alike ecstatic. However, as we were all celebrating my coach stood silent in the corner of the room. I could tell by his facial expressions he was contemplating an ethical dilemma that went straight over all of our heads. The championship game the following morning resulted in an entirely different surge of emotions. At the end of the game we were all so caught up with our state cup trophy  we did not grasp why our coach was acting the wasy he was, we were just content with the outcome it didn't matter to us how we reached it.


In sports winning is idolized as the ultimate goal whether it be the Super Bowl, World Cup, World Series or any other championship game. The ultimate recognition as a champion is one of the most gratifying moments an athlete can experience  but it does come with its delusions. Recognition of one thing may dilute another. In this instance the internal conflict which arose was the ethical dilemma in how we ended up in that championship game. I know for a fact our coach believed that since we had lost the game no matter the circumstances that this was not an honorable win. Since we had lost the game regardless of the opponents behavior we did not earn this win the way champions should. I believe this can be compared to athletes breaking records with the use of performance enhancing drugs. However, it may not be as dramatic in comparison it takes away a certain amount of dignity from the victory.

Blog 1: First Memory

Thinking all the way back to fourteen years ago I am able to trace one of my most fond and vivid memories. This particular memory is one of my  more prevalent recollections because it was not only my first time venturing out of the United States it was my first time visually captivating true beauty through the work of art. However, the sixteen hour flight to Italy was probably just as memorable as the captivating sculptures and other artistic architecture I witnessed. At five years old though I was not traveling alone I was accompanied by mother and my father who both have relatives right outside of Venice. Our relatives resided in a small farm community outside of the big city, some may even argue that the peacefulness and natural beauty of the outskirts of town are even more amazing than the attractions inside. This peacefulness was complimented by the clear blue skies, the rolling golden hills and the seemingly endless rows of vineyards. The landscape was very breathtaking but as a five year old child the traditional homemade meatballs, pastas, salad and steaming hot sweet rolls had a hypnotic like spell on me. This specific flashback of dinner is mainly due to the fact that it was the first time I had consumed alcohol. Not in any excessive manor of course but in Italian households red wine tends to be a necessity. For example my three year old cousin was drinking wine out of his sippy cup. To say the least it was not my most enjoyable experience of the trip. Beside the little dinner fiasco their were other certain parts of the exploration of this new world which made this recollection so memorable. The architectural masterpieces in Italy are tremendously abundant the canals, the roads, the leaning tower of Pisa, the impeccable Sistine Chapel are all reminders of the proficiency and preservation of the architects and artists like Michelangelo from centuries ago.    

There are some particulars of this memory which may be less clear than others. I can unfortunately admit that the memories of seeing these architectural masterpieces as I claimed previously were not of the most vivid memories. In fact the clearest part of this entire trip was the dinner and my first sip of wine. I can account for almost everything that happened during dinner after that sip of wine but when exploring Venice I feel some discrepancy in recalling those events. I feel if this story were to unfold further that it can be perceived as Nonfiction due the the fact it incorporates details from my memory and factual history of Italy on its monuments and art.