Monday, September 28, 2009

Life Experience: Paintballing, part deux

The tension and anticipation built. It had been seven-plus years since the last undertaking. The sun blazed with an unforgiving heat. The attire only exacerbated the warmth.

Yet, the anxiousness and eagerness grew with each passing minute.

And then it happened.

"The game will start in five seconds!," exclaimed the referee.

My heart was pounding. My mask was fogging up from excessive heavy breathing. Sweat poured down my face like a waterfall because of the heat and intensity of the situation.

And then it happened.

"Go! Go! Go!," the referee yelled.

Each round is comprised of two teams. The number of players on each side is determined by how many souls are brave enough to participate in the skirmish -- usually 10 players on each side.

The assault was predetermined: Push up the right side of the dirt-laden field while solid, round, red and blue projectiles traveled at 285 feet per second, splattering on the surroundings. With only mounds of dirt, old tires and wooden electrical spools to hide behind in hopes of avoiding the round game-ending shots; the anxiety was at an all-time high.

By this time, the afore mentioned strategy for success had long-since been abandoned, which was not totally unexpected. It was time to improvise.

As the other participants held their own, the situation called for skulking up the left in hopes of flanking the opposing team. After surviving the initial onslaught and making it to the position of choice unmolested, things were falling into place.

I looked down the barrel of the gun and had an unsuspecting player in my sight.

And then it happened.

BAM! Like Emeril Lagasse bombarding a gumbo dish with garlic, a plethora of paint balls hailed upon on my left elbow.

The shock of the shots, mixed with the sting was perplexing.

I had just been tagged by a teenage girl.

Despite the elimination, the anxiety quickly turned to excitement and eagerness to start the next round, as revenge was definitely the on the menu for the next round. Needless to say, the revenge was oh so sweet -- sweet like a cream cheese frosting on a fresh carrot cake, which, incidentally was the birthday cake.

Still, I will forever have to live with the fact that I was eliminated by a teenager. But, that wouldn't hamper the rest of the day. That would be foolish.

The day was to celebrate a friend's birthday. A friend who had been through a lot of family issues recently. It was a nice escape for him and a great time for the rest of us.

Paintball is a physical activity. However, it isn't the best activity for those who are, shall we say, "less-than physically fit," such as myself.

The aches and pains were prevalent from the afternoon of intense, brute toil. The next morning, on the other hand, is when the soreness made its presence known.

Getting out of bed was a chore in itself. The bruises throbbed from the multiple impacts. The all-day struggle to move after the fun, yet strenuous day, was expected. Yet, it actually felt good, in a weird way. It felt like something had been accomplished -- a good time with family and friends while doing something out of the norm.

Monday reared its ugly head everything returned to normal. Maybe it'll be another seven years before paintballing is the outing of choice.

And then it happened.

"Paintball next weekend. You in?," a text from a friend read.

In the words of the robot cop from Futurama:











Ahh yeah!

Sunday, September 20, 2009

Life Experience: Paintballing

The tension and anticipation built. It had been seven-plus years since the last undertaking. The sun blazed with an unforgiving heat. The attire only exacerbated the warmth.

Yet, the anxiousness and eagerness grew with each passing minute.

And then it happened.

"The game will start in five seconds!," exclaimed the referee.

My heart was pounding. My mask was fogging up from excessive heavy breathing. Sweat poured down my face like a waterfall because of the heat and intensity of the situation.

And then it happened.

"Go! Go! Go!," the referee yelled.

The round is comprised of two teams. The number of players on each side is determined by how many souls are brave enough to participate in the skirmish -- usually around 10 players on each side.

The assault was predetermined: Push up the right side of the dirt-laden field while solid, round, red and blue projectiles traveled at 285 feet per second, splattering on the surroundings. With only mounds of dirt, old tires and wooden electrical spools to hide behind in hopes of avoiding the round game-ending shots; the anxiety was at an all-time high.

By this time, the afore mentioned strategy for success had long-since been abandoned, which was not totally unexpected. It was time to improvise.

As the other participants held their own, the situation called for skulking up the left in hopes of flanking the opposing team. After surviving the initial onslaught and making it to the position of choice unmolested, things were falling into place.

I looked down the barrel of the gun and had an unsuspecting player in my sight.

And then it happened.

BAM! Like Emeril Lagasse bombarding a gumbo dish with garlic, a plethora of paint balls hailed upon on my left elbow.

The shock of the shots, mixed with the sting was perplexing.

I had just been tagged by a teenage girl.

Despite the elimination, the anxiety quickly turned to excitement and eagerness to start the next round, as revenge was definitely the on the menu for the next round. Needless to say, the revenge was oh so sweet -- sweet like a cream cheese frosting on a fresh carrot cake, which, incidentally was the birthday cake.

Still, I will forever have to live with the fact that I was eliminated by a teenager. But, that wouldn't hamper the rest of the day. That would be foolish.

The day was to celebrate a friend's birthday. A friend who had been through a lot of family issues recently. It was a nice escape for him and a great time for the rest of us.

Paintball is a physical activity. However, it isn't the best activity for those who are, shall we say, "less-than physically fit," like myself.

The aches and pains were prevalent from the afternoon of intense, brute toil. The next morning, on the other hand, is when the soreness made its presence known.

Getting out of bed was a chore in itself. The bruises throbbed from the multiple impacts. The all-day struggle to move after the fun, yet strenuous day was expected. Yet, it actually felt good, in a weird way. It felt like something had been accomplished. I had a good time with family and friends and did something out of the norm.

Monday reared its ugly head everything returned to normal. Maybe it'll be another seven years before paintballing is the outing of choice.

And then it happened.

"Paintball next weekend. You in?," a text from a friend read.

In the words of the robot cop from Futurama:











Ahh yeah!

Sunday, September 13, 2009

Cutler, the 'Franchise'

What makes a franchise quarterback? First of all, he has to have talent. Secondly, maturity is a must. Finally, the "It" factor, an intangible which all franchise quarterbacks seem to possess.

One out of three isn't going to cut it for Jay Cutler.

He is not a franchise quarterback.

Cutler, acquired from the Denver Broncos by the Chicago Bears on April 3, was supposed to be the franchise quarterback the Bears have lacked since, well, ever. If his first regular season game the savior is any indication of his franchiseness, then Bears' fans are in for a long season.

Cutler's Chicago debut was inauspicious, to say the least: 17-36, 277 yards, one touchdown and a career-high four interceptions.

His 43.2 QB rating was actually quite generous, as his play was atrocious for much of the evening.

But let's go back to why Denver traded the brat.

It all started after the Broncos hired Josh McDaniels, former New England Patriots' offensive coordinator. McDaniels tried to acquire QB Matt Cassel, who enjoyed a career year in his system in 2008. Upon hearing the rumors, Cutler threw a toddler-sized tantrum and demanded to be traded.

After weeks of posturing and attempts to make up by both the Broncos and Cutler, Denver finally gave in and traded the crybaby.

Prior to the saga, Cutler had endeared himself to Denver fans as the heir apparent to John Elway's throne, which has been a revolving door since Elway retired.

After the opening of the 2009 NFL season, Denver fans must be elated after witnessing Baby Jay's performance on national TV.

Cutler threw three first-half interceptions, resulting in just seven Packer points.

He finally seemed to be on track in the second half after throwing a 36-yard TD pass to wide receiver Devin Hester. But it wouldn't last.

The Packers eventually took the lead with just over a minute to play in the game. This was Cutler's chance to prove to everyone that he was worth the price Chicago paid and would show Denver what a mistake it made in trading him.

Cutler, the prima donna, failed miserably.

On the first play of the final drive, Cutler threw a horrifically bad pass that was picked off by Green Bay cornerback Al Harris, clinching the victory for the Cheeseheads.

One play, one interception, one embarrassing loss.

Cutler walk's off the field after throwing the game away.

Kyle Orton, on the other hand, was not so unfortunate or embarrassing.

The QB Chicago sent to Denver in exchange for Cutler went 17-28, 243 yards and one of the most miraculous TDs you will ever see -- with a little help from Lady Luck.

After Cincinnati scored a TD to take the lead with 38 seconds to go, Orton threw a pass that would give Bronco fans a heart attack, followed by pure joy and adulation. The pass was tipped in the air only to be snagged by WR Brandon Stokely, who ran 87 yards for a game-winning touchdown.

As the old adage goes, "It's better to be lucky than good." Orton was definitely lucky on this day.

Cutler, on the other hand, was neither lucky nor good -- a bad recipe for winning football games.

Orton may not be the definition of a franchise QB, but Denver is 1-0 while Chicago is 0-1.

Will Cutler have better games? Of course he will. Will he ever evolve into the franchise QB Da Bears so desperately need? Don't count on "It."

Da Bears!

Monday, September 7, 2009

Students, faculty passionate at fee increase rally

A 95-degree day is enough to get anyone worked up.

A 95-degree day while rallying about rising student fees and professor pay cuts is enough to get everyone who attended worked up.

Roughly 200 students, professors and faculty showed up to protest the rising fees and slashing salaries outside the library at Sacramento State University.

The rally opened with a couple of protest songs from teachers and faculty signing protests songs as if they were protesting the Vietnam War. It is not quite that serious, but it is an issue worth fighting for, nonetheless.


This rally had a little bit of everything: TV cameras, singing, signs and slogans. The particular slogan of choice was, "They say cut back, we say FIGHT BACK!"

The California State University system raised fees twice from the end of the spring 2009 semester to the beginning of the 2009 fall semester – a span of three months. Tuition for the fall semester is $511 more than last semester. Not only did tuition increase, the quantity of education decreased – by about 10 percent.

Because of the state's money epidemic, teachers and faculty are forced into taking furlough days. Incidentally, furlough will be the buzz word of the year throughout the CSU system, if not the rest of the impoverished state. While some students may invite the extra days of no class, some are peeved about not getting enough instruction.


Paying more and getting less not exactly an uncommon occurrence. One might expect that from a fancy-shmancy restaurant, but not something as important and essential as higher education.

It's no secret that California is broke, despite having the 10th-largest economy in the world, according to the CIA World Factbook. In fact, California once had the fifth-largest economy in the world. State employees are taking furlough days as well, but why does it have to extend the education system?

Students pay good money for a college education and the rising fees make it more difficult for said students to get an education. With higher tuition fees come more student loans which results in more money out of our pockets in the long run.

But hey, no one cares about education in this country, right? Our education system is top notch compared to countries like Japan, the United Kingdom and Finland (which one of these is not like the other?). Or not.


The only way students and faculty can make a difference is by holding these rallies and the soon-to-come marches on the Capitol.


Is taxing oil companies, which are seeing record profits and have been for quite some time, the answer? Perhaps. It might not be feasible, but we all know the companies are not hurting for money. This was an option that was echoed many times throughout the rally.


Much like Mother Nature did to the attendees on that early September day, it is time to turn up the heat on the legislature and compel it to take money from another institution. Education is far too important to have multiple increases and to be furloughed.


Fight back!