Herpes, Gonorrhea, Schism, HIV-AIDS... Wait a minute... Schism?

The term ‘schism’ has been plastered all over SportsCenter today. I find it quite amusing that it’s such a powerful term and yet most of the involved athletes, when asked about the term, didn’t know what it meant. Jared Allen, an animal on the gridiron, thought a schism was an STD; he thought that absurd because he said “we preach abstinence around these parts.”

The term carries a lot of burdened Christian connotations such as the Roman Catholic schism between the Eastern and Western orthodox beliefs. Common synonyms would be: split, discord, rift and gulf.

More commonly, and in this context, it would signify a division. Such as the division that Brett Favre’s emergence in the Viking’s locker-room has ruptured. Or the tremors of disaster in the city of brotherly love and the overall hype that Michael Vick’s return has created.

That is a schism.

But should these be schisms? I’m sure that once Favre starts winning games, there will be calm waters up in the land of 10,000 lakes. He can’t expect to make friends if he carries on retiring and returning every pre-season. But as he stated “I’m not here to make friends.” Besides, those friendships will soon directly correlate with his W’s in a Viking jersey.

Vick’s predicament is a completely different issue that I’m not going to get into. But I fully believe in second chances. It’s harsh when authorities choose to pick out a guinea pig. So I’m glad that Vick gets a chance to return to his profession and I hope that we can all remember that football is his job. He’s just another man. I don’t know what to think about the Vick-McNabb relationship though. It could either be a great run or just another disastrous duo in Philly.

So that’s the schism Mr. Allen. No, it is not an STD. It’s a little disagreement that your Vikings need to sort out. (I’m glad that I can safely say this to you from a few hundred miles away, from behind my laptop.)

Music and Memories

So I was in Southern Indiana last weekend, driving to a small town in the middle of no where. I love road trips for two main reasons: The scenery and landscape of the surroundings, as well as the tunes/sing-a-long sessions with everyone in the car. In fact, I’m known to make a CD for every specific road trip. It’s something I love and miss doing. (My Sony Vaio is on its death-bed and currently not able to burn CDs anymore. I’m on the verge of replacing her with my first ever Mac. I know, it’s about time!)

But back to our road trip. Southern Indiana really can’t boast of much, but it does provide some picturesque scenery intersected by long, fairly lonesome highways that I’m slowly getting acquainted to.

On this trip, we went through the usual repertoire: Dave Matthews, a few mixes that had John Mayer and Third Eye Blind on them. But then, someone put in Weezer’s Blue album which suddenly whisked me out of Southern Hoosier-dom and into a completely different world. It was a stroll down memory lane.

Rocking out to the Sweater song, Buddy Holly and Say It Ain’t So, with the windows down on a beautiful evening, surrounded by cornfields was just great. But what struck me as even more profound was how this album mustered up memories that I hadn’t even thought about for the past few years.

More than just the Blue album, I feel like any song I listen to can relate to a specific memory. Whether it was my first basketball tournament or the first girl I dated or even my first holiday. I’m sure I could relate a song to any memory I’ve ever had.

Science states that the olfactory sense triggers a strong recollection of memories and that perhaps smell is the largest contributor to the memory process. I do agree with this connection.

But I’m also amazed at music’s ability to rekindle memories. Music is an art. Listen to Beethoven’s fifth or Vertical Horizon’s “You’re a God” and I’m sure you will be stimulated to paint your own imagery and create a fantasy world that is a uniquely subjective phenomena. Bono’s Sunday Bloody Sunday lyrics would probably spark feelings of the Save Tibet campaigns to an Asian, while it could merely bring back the younger drinking days at the local pub to an Irishman. See? Same lyrics, same tune, but completely different perspectives.

What do you think? Is there a song that you could relate to a specific memory? Let me know.

Reaching back to the roots: Tranquility amidst confusion

So I’m back in Bangalore, India. It’s hot, crowded, polluted and yet surprisingly calming. I still love it. There’s something very mystic about the country, something that obviously reached out to various rockers and celebrities through the years like the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, Kevin Garnett etc. Something here seems to nurture the discovery of inner thoughts, of karma, of nirvana. The country seems to evoke a sense of meaning to life.

I can’t seem to figure out what makes this dirty, smelly country so fascinating. Is it the prevalent religious history that it has? Driving around and seeing all these massive mosques, intricately designed Hindu temples and old Anglo-Indian churches is like leafing through a coffee table book of historical marvels. All these religions, all these cultural differences and yet these simplistic people manage to live right next door to each other and make it work. We’re in a world full of division and seclusion, yet meeting some of my parent’s tenants who are devout Hindus defied these barriers. My parents own a home that they lease out, their tenants welcomed us into their homes and provided coffee and snacks to us, a bunch of foreigners that are obviously Christian. What a humbling experience. It seems like they don’t care about religious differences here, they don’t care about cultural backgrounds or socio-economic status, people here just care about friendship and relationships.

Or perhaps it’s the perfect balance of life in this chaotic country that reaches out to people. All the extremes: the rich and the poor, the traditional and the modern, the conservative and the Westernized traveller. It’s like watching the opening scene of the Lion King and seeing all these different animals from the circle of life celebrate together when they should be feasting off each other’s flesh.

I can’t comprehend how everyone gets along. It’s mind blowing. I mean can you imagine a John-Deer-clad farmer from Iowa living next door to a Puerto Rican illegal immigrant on one side and a Harlem-raised baller on the right? Not just that, can you imagine them grilling out together and baby-sitting each other’s kids on a daily basis?

Yeah not a realisitc picture huh? But it happens here in the Indian sub-continent.

I saw this sign yesterday that was really inspiring. Gandhi’s influence on mankind is still prevalent with simple slogans like this. I have a lot of thoughts on this quote and I’m sure everyone who reads it will feel inspired. Yet, it’s hard to follow.

I feel like i’m back home. My mind is constantly sifting through thoughts, emotions, memories and concerns, the traffic is insane and the poor are everywhere. But the food is great, everyone is still profoundly happy, and we met a Michael-Jackson tribute cover band who invited us to watch them at a few local bars. What a crazy country. God bless it.