It's a Bird, It's a Plane, It's...a Meteor??

I’m a fan of disaster movies. Yes, I try to see most of the Oscar worthy films each year and I like to think I have good taste when it comes to cinema. Still, I enjoy a good Michael Bay-esque huge budget apocalyptic robots, aliens or meteorites disaster film. I have a weakness, okay, we all have them. 

With that off my chest, I have another confession. Not only do I enjoy these movies but they stir a kind of excitement within. As the hero runs around helping people and battling whatever force is hell bent on planetary destruction, I realize that I want to be that guy. The thought of being in that situation rouses my sense of adventure.

Well, really the only scenario where that’s going to happen is if we are somehow under attack (otherwise, my life consists of going to work and typing on this laptop). It’s not that I wish for some kind of catastrophe to befall us all so that I can be entertained and live out my fantasy. When the Mayan calendar ended, I wasn’t looking out my window with fingers crossed hoping for the opportunity. I just think that if some kind of Armageddon were to occur, it might be as exciting as a Michael Bay movie. Surely I’m not the only one.


Well, that theory has been debunked. A meteor came crashing through the earth’s atmosphere yesterday morning, causing some minor damage in central Russia. Let me say that again because I probably (hopefully) will never be able to repeat it…a meteor crashed into the earth. There was a sonic boom resulting from the chunk of space rock entering the atmosphere faster than the speed of sound, windows blew out and debris littered the area. As Mike Krumboltz points out in his Yahoo! New blog, the scene resembled the disaster film “Cloverfield.” 

As I scan through the video footage (on the same blog) that has already been spread all over the internet, I realize how wrong my assumption was. There’s no feeling of excitement welling up in my chest as I watch this real footage. A fireball streaking across the sky, a blinding flash and a concussive blast smashing windows is just plain scary when you’re not seated in a theater. Thankfully nobody has been reported dead as a result (although CNN is reporting that at least 1,000 people suffered injuries, mostly from falling glass). When I first saw the report this morning, my jaw involuntarily dropped, and the only thing I could say was “no way.” No exhilaration, no entertainment, just uneasiness. 

Who says the next one won’t hit the building I’m sitting in right now? There is also an asteroid rocketing past our planet at an uncomfortable speed and proximity, but is apparently unrelated to the meteor. If that’s true (which is hard for me to believe) then that makes this scenario all the more frightening. An asteroid and a meteor on the same day? Eerie. In a video interview on CNN, Bill Nye explains how humans are aware of about 1% of all the asteroids that are out there. That’s frightening, and he went on to say that an asteroid the size of our closely orbiting friend, if it struck earth, could level a major city. He also repeatedly stated that we should all be looking up at the sky.

I know I’ll be keeping one eye raised. It’s an awakening experience to think about how feeble we are in the grand scheme of things. To hear about how we could easily be wiped off the planet with no warning. The disaster flicks are purely fictional but scenarios like that could actually become reality. There’s nothing adventurous about that. But then again, what did Captain Hook say? “To die would be a great adventure.”


Value life today, folks. This planet is a gift.

Mike Krumboltz's Yahoo! News Blog
CNN's Bill Nye asteroid interview

The Four Seasons

As I shovel out and survey the mass of snow here in New England dumped by a historic blizzard named after a cartoon fish, I can’t help but think about the progression of the seasons. I’ve lived in New England for the entirety of my life but I can remember on family vacations to Florida in February thinking “why can’t it just always be this warm?” I’m not even close to being a meteorologist so I won’t try to get into low pressure systems and dew points, but why do people live in the cold? It’s a question worth asking ourselves.

Some people say, “I’m moving to Florida someday.” Some people actually do it, because they truly hate the cold, but most people just bear it. Maybe it has to do with finances or the stresses of actually picking up and moving your entire life. As I have gotten older I have learned to appreciate each of the seasons for what they are, yes even winter (maybe it’s just a defense mechanism for when I’m walking to the bus and its 5 degrees and snowing down my jacket).

The seasons balance each other out, they are a perfect metaphor for the ups and downs of life. We endure the uncomfortable and less desirable winter months because we know they give way to the beauty and warmth of spring and summer. We wouldn’t be able to appreciate each season if not for the others.

Let’s begin with summer. In most regions of the country summer is hot and humid. At first, we in the Northeast are so excited for the change from cold to warmth that we welcome the humidity with short sleeves and trips to the beach. We can hang out outdoors and bask in the sunshine. By August, we are hunkered down in the air conditioning trying not to move for fear of breaking a sweat (I’ve found that sticking my head in the freezer can provide temporary relief). We quickly become sick of the heat and we begin to pine for the relief of cooler temperatures. 

Then like a sliver that finally relents and leaves its unwelcome habitat in your skin, autumn breaks. The air is once again comfortable enough to venture outdoors and spend time picking apples and peeping leaves (this phrase always creeps me out, it sounds like I’m spying on the leaves through their bedroom window). A light jacket and a cup of pumpkin spiced coffee, admittedly this is my favorite time of year (and not just because there is an excuse to try all of the pumpkin flavored beers). But alas, it is also the shortest and we all know what comes next. 

At first, winter isn’t so bad. We welcome her with the celebration of Christmas and then the New Year, and we think “hmm, maybe it’ll be okay this year.” Skip ahead to March, there’s been snow on the ground for two months and you have run out of things in your house to fix, books to read, and even Netflix is tapped. Your skin is so dry it cracks as you reach for the remote. This is when you think, “I’m moving to Florida.” Just as you think about raising that ice skate blade to your throat, you hear the weatherman say those magic words “60 degrees.”

The first day of warm weather in the spring season is a joyous occasion. People are wearing short sleeves and sunglasses, skateboarding and bike riding, sunbathing in the park. Sure it’s barely warm enough to thaw the frozen pond, but it’s warm. Soon it’s not just warm, but the flowers start to bloom and the tree buds explode, it’s colorful and it smells great all the time. It’s magical compared to that inconsiderate b*&#$ winter. And then the magic fades as the heat becomes unbearable again and the cycle starts all over.

Can you imagine living in a place where the temperature rarely fluctuated? Every day was 73 degrees and sunny? Sounds awesome to us New Englanders in February, but how long would it really be paradise? Not long would be my guess. We would begin to long for some kind of change in weather, maybe even miss snow a little. That’s because each season, with its peaks and valleys, makes us appreciate the other three.

If we didn’t have to endure the cold and snow of winter, would those few months when the warmth creeps in and the flowers bloom be so glorious? They wouldn’t. There wouldn’t be any transition in the plant life if the temperature never altered, no bloom, no color, no smell. If we didn’t have the blaring heat of summer would we appreciate the cooling breeze and crisp mornings of the fall season? Nope. Once again, the leaves wouldn’t change and all that colorful leaf peeping (shudder) wouldn’t exist. The extremes of the seasons really help us tolerate their opposites. When we have one of those perfect weather days, we absolutely love it. It’s a spectacle and not just the norm. 

I think I’d rather shovel and ice my head than not appreciate a beautiful day. It builds character, right? Wish me luck, I’m going outside.     

The Tattoo Age

I remember the days when you crossed the street at the sight of a guy covered with tattoos walking toward you on the sidewalk. If you had a tattoo you were likely grouped with the likes of biker gangs, inmates, or strippers. Maybe I was just way more judgmental than the average young man. Don’t worry, this perspective has changed in my eyes and the stigma that accompanied tattoos has seemingly shifted. Today I would venture a guess that about 30% of those between 18 and 30 have tattoos. It’s an accepted form of expression. Folks, we’ve entered “The Tattoo Age.”

Make no mistake, I support it and am even among that suspected 30% (but you’ll only see mine at the beach).

When I was 18 I decided that I wanted to get an ear pierced. It was partly because everyone was listening to hip-hop music at the time and for some reason, even in a small suburban town in Connecticut, I wanted to be a tad gangster. It was also partly because I could do it, it was an expression of my independence. Thankfully, that phase didn’t last long and earrings can be removed just as quickly as they are put in. Tattoos, however, are a different story.

I thought long and hard before deciding to permanently mark my skin with ink. A few ideas came and passed and after a hefty price quote for an intricate crest design in college, I decided I would have to wait until I actually had some kind of income. By the time I was gainfully employed, I had finally developed an idea that didn’t sour after a few months. After approving the artist’s sketch of what it would look like, it was made permanent. As I noted above, part of my plan was to make sure that it was easily concealable so that it could be hidden from view if desired (it’s on my back, get your mind out of the gutter).

When I see these young artsy folks walking around with colorful and intricate ink all over their arms and legs and necks and hands, I think about how that stuff will never go away (and how they afford what must have cost thousands of dollars). I respect the desire for self-expression and I even admire the uniqueness of some of the designs I have seen, but when you’re 80 what are your grandchildren going to say about that blue and purple flowered arm sleeve? 

I’m curious to see what the future holds for my tattooed generation. I can picture what a walk through the Boston Common will look like when I’m 50. On a 95 degree August day in 2037, all the middle aged men are walking around with long pants and long sleeve shirts buttoned up to the neck. The youths have rebelled against their parents, wearing shorts, tank tops and clean, unmarked skin. There isn’t a tattoo parlor for 30 square miles as they only exist in retirement homes and suburban neighborhoods. Nationally, those who invested in the tattoo removal industry are millionaires. Retired NBA and NFL players are rarely seen outside of their homes for fear of embarrassing their own children. The now middle aged cast of Jersey Shore has been secluded on the abandoned Alcatraz Island where they can be free to show off their tattoos wearing tank tops and tanning. Tours are still available to observe them in their natural habitat (okay that may be a stretch).

Or maybe I’m way off and everyone will have tattoos everywhere. Ink will become scarce and an underground smuggling system will emerge rivaling the drug trade. Your affluence will be expressed by the quantity and intricacy of your ink. Could go either way I suppose. ;) 

No matter how the future of tattoos plays out, the fact remains that today they are trending (if you can call a permanent body marking a trend). With the young adult demographic they are an accepted form of self-expression. Hopefully, those in the elder demographics are also beginning to look past the artwork on someone’s body before passing judgment. Will this time go down in history books along with the “Gilded Age,” or “The Enlightenment?” Doubtful, but the “Tattoo Age” is upon us. 

Remember kids, think before you ink.