Supafly.com

My mom and dad used to play this record for us kids when we were little.  It would probably sound pretty dumb if I were to listen to it now, but that record was pretty cool when I was young. It was a group of kids going on a camping trip with a big Bible. I didn’t understand the big Bible guy walking around, but I liked most of the songs. We played that record like there was no television. My favorite was a piece entitled, “One Step at a Time.”

You see, you can only climb a mountain one step at a time (so the big Bible told the little boy on the backpacking trip.) If you stand at the base of the mountain and look at the cap, the mission seems impossible. The journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step.

Today at the studio, I was a spazz because I don’t know how I am going to get all this work done. I don’t even know if I know how to organize and prioritize these projects, much less make a plan to make each of them happen. So quit being a spazz and took the first step. By the end of the day, I was amazed how much work I got done.

But there I still so much more to do.

When I first took the job of Webmaster of lifeteen.com, I was a little embarrassed because I didn’t know what I would do all day. Shouldn’t this be a part time job? I knew there had to be more than just what I do here on supa-fly.com, but I never imagined lifeteen.com would become what it is today. It’s like it’s own little city. “Mayor of LIFETEEN.com.”

My first day at the studio, I was afraid that I would get done with all the cool stuff in a few months, and I would end up doing boring and unrelated things just so I wouldn’t feel bad about getting paid. After working my tail off for a year, I can’t tell you when the work will be done. This could take years.

One day at a time.

Ah…six days in a row and I am STILL at home. Woo hoo! I rolled and snoozed and finally woke up at 10:30. I was silly-sleeping and wrapped my blanket around my face. I felt a little stupid when I woke up, but no one was there to notice my snow leopard turban. Now I am at Einstein’s Bagel enjoying my vanilla hazelnut coffee and toasted cheese bagel. $3.65 never felt so good. Frank Sinatra is singing to me.

I got a new set of golf clubs and I’ve been missing him a lot, so I instant messaged my dad, “Are you free next weekend for a round of golf?” He quickly typed “sounds good.” With less than a week till his flight, I knew I had to redeem this travel voucher because the price gets high real quick. The line at the airport was so long and I so don’t want to stand in an airport on my weekend off. But after I bought that ticket, I started jumping up in down smiling. Dad is coming to see me!

I love my dad so much. He had the courage to raise us right, no matter how much my little mind didn’t understand. Mom told me that her and Dad believe in raising adults. They didn’t raise me to be a popular third grader or high schooler, but to be a man with backbone that can make his way through this world. I moaned about not having the newest Jordans or owning that beautiful grey box called Nintendo. But I will respect and love them for the rest of my life.

That line in an Avril Lavigne song: “go ahead, I’ve got more backbone than you.” You don’t hear that in any pop music.

Maybe in our youth we are forgiven as a work in progress…you know, kids will be kids or something like that. But I am twenty-three now, and we are still young, but my peers should know more than they do. We used to laugh about this stuff, but now it’s just stupid. I wonder: do you have what it takes to pull a real life together? Carlos said it best: “can you take care of someone other than yourself?”

Don’t even get me started on “professional” people. In high school, we had group projects that never seemed to work right. I’d end up doing all the work with the half-help of a couple others. Then a few slackers would just ride the “A”. Well those idiots eventually get jobs where people are counting on them. So here I am with real work with real money, and people/companies just flake out. You don’t get an “F” for stuff like this, you get sued.

Well, I’ve outlasted the brunch crowd and now it’s just the lunch crowd here at Einstein’s. The guy is mopping the floor and set down the “wet floor” sign. The character on the sign has apparently slipped and fallen on his ass. But it also seems to be reclining with a provocative invitation: legs uncrossing and arms open wide. Interesting.

Stephanie and I are touring Phoenix thrift stores this afternoon. I’ll be looking for some funky furniture for my new house (soon). A vintage cowboy shirt would be nice, or perhaps an Elvis clock instead. If I am lucky: beautiful grey box called Nintendo.

For a month I’ve known what that I’d be talking tonight. I’ve done hundreds of talks around the country to thousands of people, so why am I nervous about a group of 300 locals?

XLT has done wonders for the Life Teen programs in Atlanta, and the same thing should happen here. Phoenix needs XLT: a place for young Catholics from around the metro area to get together praise God. It’s a chance for churches with struggling programs to be inspired. Every Christian lives in joyful hope of a real revival, a time a family, community, or city—finally sees the Light.  If I can play any role in letting the Holy Spirit flow, let me do it.

I walked back from XLT alone in the dark. I could’ve gotten a ride home, but I wanted the silence and time alone. I am proud of what I did tonight. Sometimes you just know when something is good, and tonight was one of those times.

Praise God.

I had so much fun at Einstein’s yesterday, I decided to come back and do it again. The coffee is perfectly balanced and rich with flavor. This place is wrapped with loose and playful graphic art and that creative vibe makes it easier for me to write. Somehow they’ve managed to capture that “warm coffee on a cool morning”, whether it is 20 degrees outside, or 110. It’s like my own little Boston morning in the middle of the desert.

Yesterday afternoon was a blast. Stephanie and Kevin met me at my apartment. Stephanie had a list of thrift shops in Phoenix and we were off. It was so fun. In between trying on furry Chewbacca vests and Chinese smoking jackets, we talked about the reward of good morals and the importance of prayer. It was unlike any other trip I’ve made to the thrift store.

(Did you know Microsoft Word doesn’t think “Chewbacca” is a misspelled word?)

We had lunch at a hip restaurant in a florist shop from the 50’s. Man, I loved talking to each of them over lunch. The whole meal I was thinking, “and I get to paint with her tomorrow night after Mass.”

Then we dug through antique stores on the block. I bought a weathered tin frame for $7. A crude and colorful painting from New Orleans would be a perfect match for this frame. Then we got lost and found a furniture consignment shop. They had five rose-colored barstools from the 50’s. It’s cool because they stand solid on these big flat chrome platforms. Those would look cool in a new house…

(It’s funny how people still recognize me from the Real World. Every young person in this place has done the double-take and then whispered to their friend. You try not to notice, but how do you ignore when everyone is staring at you? I guess they like my hair.)

Stephanie got called into work and couldn’t join me at a couple parties. But, she got out early and caught the tale-end of Bart’s birthday party. We sat in the front yard enjoying the night.

What a good day.

Wow…I can’t believe I’ve been here for two hours. I am really procrastinating re-writing a talk on “Generation Y” for the conference on Tuesday. There is a lot of work left to do, and it is easier to write a journal than it is to break apart the characteristics of a baby generations. Well, my coffee is cold and it’s time to go. I’m going to duck in the art store next door to pick up some new acrylic paint and maybe an easel for tomorrow night’s paint date.

Several months ago, I fell in love with this neighborhood. I was joyriding and stumbled across a quiet, mature neighborhood of modern homes from the late 50’s to early 70’s, all well-kept and untouched by misguided disciples of Martha Stewart.  I couldn’t believe there was this pocket of mid-century mod hidden in the cross roads of good spots.

It is a minute from two nice public golf courses, and one super nice course that isn’t as public. It’s within two minutes from three parks. One park is perfect for mountain biking and sunsets, another the green belt for roller blades and playing, and the third is a lake for romantic walks. In a few years, the city is building a modern art museum on the south shore of the lake. North ten minutes is the heart of Scottsdale with restaurants, nightclubs, and art galleries. It’s fifteen minutes from St. Tim’s in one direction and fifteen minutes from the studio in the other direction. I could be at the airport in ten minutes. Plus, it’s so close to most of the people that I know, so I’d always have someone to keep me company.

–And I just found out from the kid with spiked hair and a broken arm on the table next to me that there is a skateboard park ten minutes away—

So close to so much, so I always find an excuse to drive through. Then, I spotted a house for sale. So big and open on the inside…is that a sunken living room like the Brady’s? Nice: there is a big patio and a pool out back. There’s enough room for a miniramp back here. I am standing in the next season of “Cribs.”

Wow so cool. Ugh, so expensive. Strong, I dabbed my tears and accelerated to other homes in the lovely Scottsdale.

Seventy-five days later, it’s still for sale. I know these folks have to be desperate. I know they’ll budge…

I like home improvement so much. I mean, I could almost get a second job at Home Depot just to learn about the varieties of hardwood floors and the countless benefits of double-pained windows. I feel funny saying this, but I think our interests and how we apply our talent evolves. It was fun painting long boards in high school—it still is. But, one of the best parts of growing up is looking for bigger adventures and projects, including having your own house.

If I could have dinner with a dozen people alive today, one guest would be Steve from “This Old House”. Some of my finest memories from high school were watching “This Old House” with Mom and Dad. I mean—wow—if I could hang out with Steve, my mom would be so proud. Sitting next to Steve would be the old faithful Bob Villa. Sure, Bob isn’t as good looking and trendy as the “Trading Spaces” kids, but he is the hero of anyone who has ever swung a hammer. Sitting next to Bob would be Norm Avery…

Now my surfer friend Jim, one of the Lost Boys in California, knows how to invent a cool pad out of an ordinary house. He took a beach town track-home from the early 80’s and crafted an artsy, adventurous party pad. His backyard was one of the most fun places I’ve ever been. He had sculptures, cool plants, and a fire pit to snuggle up next to. You could spend hours just peaking at all the details. After I buy a place, I’ll take a weekend off and visit him to plan out my back porch palace.

What am I still doing here? I am going to Home Depot.