Ninja Art Appreciation 101

When I was a kid I had a hard time focusing on anything for an extended period of time, so I loved to draw whenever I had the chance. Epic battle scenes covered the corners of math notebooks and church bulletins. I would lose myself in a fantasy world of knights, monsters and various Star Wars characters—all of which would be carefully collected by my mother. She kept every card I ever made her (although I’m sure she tired of the constant Ninja Turtle theme) and constantly affirmed my budding artistic talents. She kept this box (which had enough imaginary creations to make George Lucas, J.R.R. Tolkien and J.K. Rowling jealous!) for years, but it eventually found its way to a storage closet in our basement.

Last May, I had the opportunity to spend some time in London and visited a famous art gallery. I don’t consider myself an expert in art, but some of the paintings blew me away! Works by artists like Raphael (not the one I used to draw on my mother’s cards!) were such a display of magnificent artistry...

The Hills Are Alive! And They Took My Pride…

Several years ago I fell in love with the idea of snowboarding. I knew how to ski, but my teenage spirit yearned for new thrills (and boots that didn’t make me walk like a robot). I immediately jumped at an opportunity to take lessons with my brother and a couple of our best friends.

After a long day on the slopes, our pride was as bruised as our backsides. Following countless valiant attempts, we had successfully made it from point A (top of the Bunny Hill) to point B (bottom of the Bunny Hill) without “eating it.” As we began cheering, high-fiving and smugly laughing at the 5-year-olds who hadn’t reached our status yet, I couldn’t help but want something more…

Not long after that, my friend Jason invited me out to the mountain with him. Although I initially refused (I had decided knitting was my new passion in life), I found myself facing my old enemy. I instinctively started towards the Bunny Hill, but Jason stopped me, informing me that he would turn me into a snowboarder even if it killed him...

Hide and be Found

As a new driver, I considered my mini van the coolest vehicle on the road! Only one car did I desire more: my father’s. He drove a brand new, sleek black, Honda Accord, and I envied him for it.

One weekend, my brother and I decided to film a homemade video with some friends of ours (this was obviously “pre-x-box”, or, P.X.B.). For one scene, we needed an empty garage, so I quickly volunteered to move dad’s car. I didn’t bother to ask, but jumped in, started it up and backed out (a little bit faster then necessary because there were girls watching). Suddenly I heard a horrible sound. A loud CRASH turned my attention to my right side mirror. My heart stopped. In the words of Dr. Seuss, “All that was left were some hooks and some wire.” I began planning my future, starting with how far I thought I could drive before my dad noticed I was gone. I figured I had about a two hour head start… “Mike, go tell dad.” I was brought back to reality by my brother’s words. The thought made me sick. I began to protest,...

Goldfish in a Sea of Sharks

I believe there is one day that stands out as the scariest day of my life: the first day of high school. The first day separates the men from the boys; and on that day, we are all boys.

I entered my first day of high school as a quiet loner and kept telling myself that my new school was simply a larger, more over-crowded version of my previous experience (except for the giants that roamed the halls in search of terrified freshman to eat). I was determined to survive my first day, so I came prepared. I had a list of all my classes, with the teacher and the room number. My first class: 9th Grade Social Studies.

I checked the room number and then proceeded to fight through the sea of bodies. Pure determination brought me to the other end of the school, and I emerged from the crowd in front of my classroom with time to spare! I confidently marched in and sat down, breathing a sigh of relief. The teacher entered, greeted us, and began to read off the role call. He got to the B section, but I didn’t hear my...

Behind Door Number One

I am a task-driven person. My brother and cousin are much different. They represent the attitude of “It will get done eventually, so why worry about it now?” When we recently took a forty hour road trip, conflict was inevitable.

I was determined to leave by 9AM on Monday morning unless some sort of natural disaster hit (in which case we would leave at 9:30). But by the time the other two said their good-byes, went out for breakfast, packed their bags, found their passports, and re-packed their bags, it was nearly 10:30! When I finally got them in the car I was determined to put some miles on the speedometer before the entire day was lost! By the time we pulled up to a Motel 6 it was nearly 2 in the morning and I was not a popular leader. I marched in, demanded a room, and dragged my party upstairs. I approached room 209 and stuck my key in the door. Nothing happened. I tried again; still nothing. I was growing impatient, so I did what any intelligent man would do; I tried it again. With the door still...

Say Cheese

Grandmas are great for many reasons (especially their marvelous ability to bake pies that would make Willy Wonka proud), but they all share one thing in common: their ability to embarrass their grandchildren. My grandmother is not generally known for her reserved, introverted nature. She is famous for coming to my grandfather with 3 or 4 women she met in the airport bathroom who need his spiritual council. She has never met a stranger, and is constantly engaging in conversation with anyone who will listen (well, listening isn’t even required!).

When my grandma visited me at work one day I felt a little uneasy. She walked through the doors and memories of purple sweaters given as Christmas gifts flashed before my eyes. I looked for a place to hide, but the lunch rush had just started and a crowd was forming behind her. With a big smile she called to me and waved, informing all of her new friends in line that I was her oldest grandson, whom she is very proud of. In horror I suddenly realized she didn’t...

Two-Face: Flaming Silver

I have a wild imagination, so a couple days after seeing The Dark Knight I remained a prime target for a scare. It was about 11:00 p.m. and I was in my apartment when something caught my eye. I dismissed it as a mind trick but the hairs stood a little straighter on the back of my neck. Out of curiosity, I decided to check my window (it is the perfect size for a psycho clown to enter!) when a figure jumped from the shadows and pounded the window, shrieking at the top of its lungs.

Now, every man plans for a situation such as this. They dream of calmly defending the attack with expert karate moves while casually bantering with their foe over the death of their father until defeating the enemy and leaving him tied up and unconscious on the doorstep of the police station. Unfortunately, this is NEVER what happens.

After I pried myself off of the ceiling, collected my wits, and changed my shorts, I walked to the window to find my friends Michelle and Kristen. When they finally stopped laughing at me, we had...

Mission Impossible 4: Lord of the Frosting

He stared at me from across the table, his eyes cold, his face expressionless. “Your mission,” he said, “should you choose to accept it, is to help the four of us eat this entire Black Forest cake.” The challenge was made, and four sets of eyes eagerly watched for my reaction. The suspense hung in the air like a cloud. “Waitress,” I called, “would you be so kind as to bring us five forks?” Five Friends…one cake…so it begins.

At first we ate with speed, driven by an inner force awakened in every man when food is involved. A crowd gathered as the continuous action of fork-to-cake-to-mouth whirled into a blur. With grim determination we ate; each of us focused only on the bite ahead. However, as time wore on, our original dreams of glory turned into questions of survival. One friend (apparently aided by the quadrupled sugar level in his blood stream) stood to his feet and shouted, “I can’t take it anymore! I qui…” He was cut short as a hand cracked across his head. “Pull yourself together man!” urged Jeff,...

STEP UP 3: AFRICA

There is a common stereotype that white boys can’t dance. Some misinformed individuals obviously have never heard of Justin Timberlake, Vanilla Ice, or…did I say Justin Timberlake already? Sick and tired of the label stuck on our fellow Caucasians, my brother and I decided to set the record straight once and for all.

We were at a college fellowship in Botswana, Africa. After an intense game of 21 on the basketball court, I was on my way back for a seventh hamburger when… “Everybody, it’s time for our dance competition!” Dance competition?! I frantically tried to escape but was trapped by the crowd. I shrank back into the shadows, attempting to blend in. “We need some white boys out here; where are Mike and Dan?” I froze, hoping that if I remained motionless nobody would notice me. My brother did the same; but we were outnumbered about 15-1, so it was not hard to find the terrified white boys in the crowd. A cheer erupted as we were dragged on to the dance floor. The competition was simple: follow the group...

An Unpleasant Reunion

August 31, 2007. The day I look forward to all summer: the last day of my summer job. While driving home, I suddenly realized that in my haste I had neglected to pick up my insulated lunch bag from the refrigerator. The thought of going back to get it briefly occurred to me, but I dismissed the idea and continued on my way. I assumed I would never see that bag again. I was wrong.

Late June, 2008. The town hired me back for a third summer, due I am sure to the labor shortage, not my impressive skills with a landscaping rake. After a particularly grueling morning of trying to figure out the difference between a Robinson and a Phillips screwdriver (why can’t they just call them “The Square One” and “The Star One”? Life is too complicated.), I finally arrived in the lunch room. As I opened the refrigerator, a grey lunch bag on the top shelf caught my eye. It looked vaguely, eerily familiar. It was my old lunch bag! Like being reunited with a long lost friend, I eagerly ripped the bag open, but the smile on my...