March 1, 2010 "An 8 Hour Lunch" by David Cromwell

Equipo:

So, I had to write you guys to tell you the story of the best day that's been had and-possibly-will ever be had in, at the least, all of Spain. Which of course puts it in strong contention with any other "great" day passed in this young planet of our's history.

As you can guess, that means I had a great meal. Mother, 'tis true what you always said: the door to my heart is unlocked through my stomach.

Anyway, I have been blessed here in Madrid to come across a Spanish family which took pity on a poor, horrible Spanish speaking, homesick Montana and, in effect, adopted me as one of their own. This family invited me over on Saturday for a "cocido madrileno" which any serious madrileno will tell you is a "plato sagrado" (sacred dish). Basically it's a big stew that includes (though by no means is limited to) the following:

chorizo
morcilla (blood sausage with rice and spices inside)
cured ham
pork roast
roast beef
spanish pasta
cabbage
chickpeas
onions
...

and the list goes on.

Anyway it has a "protocol" as my madre says where you add everyhting over the course of three hours and then you take it out in the opposite order (so everything is marinated correctly) and serve all things on the side and then the broth as a separate soup.

I came over at 12:30 to "help her cook" which my Spanish mom always dupes me into believing I will do, when really all it means is that she'll have everything in order and will start serving me wine and appetizers. I suppose there are worst things to be tricked into though.

2 hours and some freeflowing wine later, the guests arrived and we started in with the tapas: marinated muscles and calamares along with cured jamon serrano and queso manchego (a hard Spanish cheese) before we sat down to eat lunch at oh, let's call it 4pm. We then ate the cocido/drank more wine for another and a half before the deserts came out. A "quesada" which is best described as a Spanish cheesecake (comes from Asturias which is known for its cheese and milk) that's much heartier than our version.

Dessert came-of course-with a chupito de hierbas (little shot of liqueur that's in between limoncello and grappa in terms of taste/strength) before the men were offered scotch and the women that or another "copa" (cocktail). Don't worry friends and neighbors, I exercised complete control.

Now, as for the company at the lunch, there were three Spanish couples, one Venezuelan couple and your's truly. I only mention this to preface a question I have for you all: can you guess who felt outclassed and outmatched on the dance floor when-unbeknownst to me-the time came to do just that? Something about rotating songs between chachacha's and flamenco didn't agree with my God-given dance skills (my dancing instructor would've been so disappointed) but I forged ahead and had everyone laughing immediately (with me David, they were laughing with me).

The dancing/eating/laughing kept going on until all of a sudden I looked at my watch and realized it was 8:30pm and I had an "early" dinner engagement at 9pm. So the "lunch" ended at 8:30pm when I told them, haha, I had to meet up with some friends for dinner in the city.

Basically, I lived the good life. Let's leave it at that.

I also forgot to tell you that my day started by having "breakfast" with a Basque team that had come to train with us for the week. We went to my favorite restaurant in Spain, which is a Ma and Pa dive in the little pueblo over from mine: cafe con leche, scrambled eggs with morcilla (again, Spanish blood sausage), patatas bravas (fried potatoes with spicy sauce), fried shrimp and calamare (yep, that's considered breakfast food to Spaniards). All for a grand total of...3 euros. HA!

Regardless, after a super hard week of training/work I gifted myself that day. It's all about moderation in life I'm told, but every once in a while you have to allow yourself a day like I had: it's good for you. I swear.

February 14, 2010 “Finally Settled: Astral Weeks is the Best Album of All-Time*”

Friends and Colleagues:

Okay, this is obvviiiiooouuusslllyyyy not a music blog or anything reminiscent in any way/shape/form of something worthwhile enough to be associated with something so important. But I’d still wish to continue, with your permission of course. What’s that you say? Ah, nobody’s there.

Never mind.

But let’s cut the foreplay. SO, in the last decade of my life two things occurred:

1. I never grew up.
2. I unknowingly began a quest to find the best album of all-time.

In regards to the second, this started out as something to do when I ran out of music. That is to say, I don’t know about you guys but when I haven’t gotten a new album/artist/song in a while I begin to feel stifled in all aspects of my life. The first option to remedy this is to solicit advice from some of my friends that are far more musical (read: better than me at everything). The second option is something I started back in 2005: look up albums from The Rolling Stone's Top 500 Albums of All-Time.

Now, obviously with any list there are some problems. But, I would counter anyone that has a beef with Rolling Stone by saying “Jesus, dude, there are 500. That’s a lot of information and chances are high you’ll run into something good you haven’t dedicated enough attention to before. Relax and take it for what it is.” Or something like that.

So, through this list I went back and rediscovered a lot of the great artists (Beatles, Paul Simon, Billy Joel, Bob Dylan, Muddy Waters, Otis Redding, The Band, etc.) that while I knew very well from my dad playing them on the way to swim meets growing up (editor’s note: keep in mind that the closest meet you will attend in Montana will be 2 hours away, that being the next town over, and often gets up into the 4-6 hour range=a lot of music listening) I was really only familiar with compilation/greatest hits CD’s.

So the first thing I did was set out to find my favorite Beatles’ album (enter the surprise winner Rubber Soul). But after listening to all their albums cover-to-cover I realized that 90% of the groups I listened to (even respected) were in NO WAY making albums. That is to say, most singers I love (and in no way have I stopped loving them) can, at best, come up with 4-6 great songs/album, falling short of producing a narrative that takes the listener through a coherent (or, sometimes, delightfully incoherent) story from first song to end.

Now, it’s worth noting that I really I don’t think any less of these groups as I don’t believe producing an album such as the ones I’m discussing is their goal, but rather to make as many great songs as possible. Again, not a good or bad thing, just different goals: I’ll leave the discussion of whether the singles-driven music industry has shifted that paradigm to your water coolers. I don’t really care.

Anyhoo, this brings us to #19 on Rolling Stone's list: Astral Weeks, by Van Morrison. And, after years of debate between whether this or Paul Simon’s Graceland is the best ever, I'm proud to stand before you today and tell you that Astral Weeks is the greatest album ever recorded.* What a load off.

If you’re a product of the nerdy History Channel generation like me, you might want to check out the friendly folks at Wikipedia (pause for my college professors to cringe at me citing them), who have compiled a great history of the album. Click Here for Article

But basically, he’d come off the success of “Brown Eyed Girl” only to become involved in a legal dispute that ended with him composing 36 nonsensical tracks to get out of his contract and marrying his-then girlfriend in order to avoid being deported from America. He moved to my old-stomping grounds of Cambridge, MA and, while so poor he was “starving, literally,” (his own words) he wrote down eight songs. After, he assembled a group of musicians and played the songs for them on an acoustic, then told them to play what he felt. No lead sheets, nothing: all improvisation.

And they did.

I should warn you that I’m about to write a serious paragraph or two, so those of you that have been before or-no-more importantly, those visiting for the first time: please skip over. I don’t want to lose you forever.

Okay, so, why is this my favorite album of all-time? Like all important things in life I can in no way explain it. I can’t even-after 100+ listenings-tell you what the hell the album is about. Mysterious, ethereal, dreamlike, it’s utterly unreachable yet simultaneously as close as one can come to achieving perfection in the form of eight pop songs.

No, it doesn’t contain the track I’ll dance to at my wedding (yes, someday I will find a girl to love this face other than my mother: stop laughing), that’s gonna be awkward enough and needs no help from a 6 minute plus song. I also don’t know if it’s my most-listened-to album either.

It all boils down to the fact that I believe there are two types of music. First, I have as many of the Rihanna, JT, Lady Gaga songs as the next guy (probably more, in the interest of full disclosure). That music is popular for a reason: it’s catchy as nuts and you can even (for the brave) dance to it. Some, uh, better than others of course. But, the other kind of music is the one that challenges you a bit, maybe even so much that you can’t listen to it all the time (cue everything-ever-written-by-Elliott-Smith leading to can't-get-out-of-bed-depression). Yet, still, pulls you back when you need it.

Okay, I should cut this off even though I could go on for a long, long time as anyone that’s had a glass of Spanish red/Montana Microbrew with me can attest. So I’ll just leave it here and say thank you for reading this far (love you mom!).

Seacrest OUT!

Follow Up:

1. Van Morrison Interview with Time talking about him not being a “download artist."
2. I also see that the record company got rid of its Youtube video of Van Morrison performing the album live at the Hollywood Bowl in 2008, but you can still get it here on a (of course) Slovenian Website. No Slovenian necessary to watch it though thankfully.

*Of course not the best album ever…just of the thousands that I’ve ever listened to. I’m sure there’s something out there better, I just haven’t heard it yet

February 10, 2010 "Incoherent Meanderings of a 25yr Old/My First National Radio Interview...In Another Language"

Team:

Okay first of all, if you haven't picked up Contra, the new album from Vampire Weekend do it immediately. It's only 8 bucks on beggarsgroupusa.com (which, btw, will be my new download site: solid 2 dollars cheaper than any other source). Anyway, Vampire Weekend-who needs no introduction-is clearly the undisputed king of the "Pop that Collar and Holla!" club that-in theory-should represent everything I hate in the world. Arrogant, elitist...and totally kick-ass and sweet. I absolutely love these guys and think that what they're doing is totally unique in the music world and find it delightfully catchy. The lyrics, actually, are what I love most as there's an air of honesty in them: they don't pretend to be anything but prep-school kids that spend summers on the Cape or Hamptons. To me that gives them all the street cred they need.

Anyway, moving on, I had the honor of appearing in the nightly Spanish radio program "El Tirachinas" (the slingshot/catapult) with host José Antonio Abellán (photo here) and wow, one of the more memorable experiences of my life. They were doing a show about athletics and academics (a concept that here at la Universidad Camilo Jose Cela we're trying to ingrain into Spanish culture...as college athletics really doesn't exist and is a foreign concept over here) and so they brought me on. It was exactly how I expected: hour and 25 minutes of football and 2.5 minutes of swimming, exactly how it would be in America. They apologized but I told them it's not an insult, swimming bores the best of us. Plus they had three of the legendary la Quinta del Buitre, five home-grown Real Madrid players that restored the team to glory in the 80s and are absolute legends here (think Bird-McHale-Parish) so it was great to share the platform with such national heroes.

Regardless, before I get into more details, I should give you guys the chance to laugh and post the link to your's truly doing an interview in Spanish: Link to Download

Anyway, let me paint the scene here. The show takes place in the most Spanish of settings: the basement of a radio station right in the heart of Madrid (by el Banco de Espana and el Prado) in a place where time has forgotten (well, time post 1962). Sr. Abellán represents every single thing I think of when I imagine the "good 'ole boys" of Spain. And that's not a pejorative term at all: he is incredibly nice, funny, and willing to make a joke of anyone/thing. The first thing he did to get ready for his show was pull out his pack of cigarettes and proceed to chain smoke throughout all the commercial breaks, much to the delight of the studio audience who were trapped in a room that looked something like this:

               

Regardless, I learned a ton and had a wonderful time despite the fact that the program ended at 1:30 am (yep, that Spanish horario is true, people do listen to programs until 1:30 am on the weekdays…often while eating dinner).

I’ve gotta run to practice now but I’ll check back in later.

Un abrazo.

February 3, 2010 "Let Me Tell You Why I Suck as a (Insert Noun Here)”

Team:

First off, if you didn't get the Tommy Boy reference take your laptop and slam it down on your hand. Shame on you.

Second, glad to hear that no one is out there. You just keep on keepin’ on old non-existent friends. No, no, no I won’t hear of it. Of course I won’t quit writing despite your not-too-subtle hints to do so. But I’m not a “no” person so let me end this introduction by saying “yes”, Google Analytics, special ‘f you’ comin’ your way for confirming not only my unoriginality (see: every single “unique” idea busted by one Google search) but also my unpopularity. I stopped playing dodgeball for a reason people: not knowing you’re the last one picked is the same as not being that last one as far as I’m concerned.

Ah, hiding in sarcasm can be such a welcoming breath of fresh air. Okay, I'm ready to begin now.

Well first off lemme throw a shout-out to Davis Tarwater and Peter Vanderkaay for coming to visit and train with me here in Spain the other week. Two absolute living legends of USA Swimming and people that I have even more respect for after having a chance to hang out with them. Aaron Peirsol spent a week here in the fall and it’s always just so fantastic to have people that I trained with/raced against come over here and experience life in Spain. I ain't got much in the way of material things but I am surrounded by great coaches in the form of Bart Kizierowski and Juan Camus. Also a special thank you to la Universidad Camilo José Cela for making it possible for these guys to stay with me. Deeply, deeply indebted.

So, as you can tell, I left my magic rabbit in my other blog and am really struggling to give you guys something to bite into today. This is usually the queue to go into some observation about Spanish culture that helps us illuminate and simultaneously think differently about otherwise banal, everyday activities.

But let’s change it up today. As you can tell I’ve added a section to the left panel here so let's continue with the theme of uh, shouting out stuff. First off, please do check out Stik.com. The basic concept is that it takes the mystery out of who sells you stuff: making it less awkward for everyone involved. It’s such a ridiculously practical idea it hurts and would make so many transactions that I don’t do out of fear of having to deal with people(see: my bouts with hikikomori). Two friends of mine from college started it (yep, I live in a dorm room and have classmates that start companies like this and um, what’s that one called…the book of face or something? Mom and dad, aren’t you proud?).

Speaking of people I used to hang out with and are now doing awesome things: Nate Houghteling. (Disclaimer: don't blow your load by following all these links if you think you won't have the energy to make it to the end: the last one is the best). After becoming a couple-million Youtube hit-guy with “Ghost Riding his Volvo” he did a great Vlog of his travels with “Huge in Asia” and then I've linked to some stuff from Portal-a.com before too.

Okay, okay, I'm getting to the point: his new iPhone Apps review show for IGN is nothing short of 2 minutes of "gutt-splitting laughs"-or something else you could put on a billboard (ouuuu-cchhhh). Anyway, I slap a Cromwell guarantee on the fact that you’ll like it.

Alright gotta run,

Struggles

January 25, 2009 "Settled Back In"

Team:

So got back a couple weeks ago from my Xmas Vacation and just needed the time to settle back into the routine that is my life over here. I tell myself that there's a difference between empty promises and constant apologies, I just hope I'm falling more into the latter than the former with my constant "sorry's" for not updating more.

Anyway, I had a fantastic time in Montana filled with family, friends, tomfoolery and attempting not to get fat (phew, that's some alliteration if I've ever seen any: AP High School English for LIFE!). Seriously it's always so fantastic being back in Missoula and no matter where I live nor how long I will always only feel home there. I had honestly forgot (at some level) how much of a community it is there, I can't believe how many people just stop by to say hi, catch up and really care about how I'm doing. Quite humbling really.

BUT, you don't come here to listen to me write about warm and fuzzy things. So, on the self-deprecation front, we've got plenty of stories to tell. I had a flight from Dublin to America so decided to spend a weekend with a good friend of mine in Galway and despite my best attempts to not be the Ugly American I guess I'm only so good of a person. A sentence slipped out that basically grouped the Irish with the Brits and as soon as it left my tongue I regretted it, something only reaffirmed by the leering at me by the two people who hadn't already tuned me out as a result of my accent. The reality is that despite my efforts to be an ambassador for my country and try to treat people kindly and with respect I am and always will be an idiot. Hopefully that is understood by all around me.

Anyway, without a drumroll following every anecdote, there's really no point in me continuing on that front (although I think we all know I could, for a long...long time). I have recently found that despite Hollywood's best attempts, good movies still keep getting made and changing my life. Went on an absolute binge while home and saw Sherlock Holmes, Avatar and Up in the Air. Upon returning to Spain I was happy that although I missed its DVD release in America by a day I came back on opening weekend for Where the Wild Things Are (yes, you understood that time dimension change right: it's awful), a movie that I've been dying to see ever since I found out that my favorite current author, Dave Eggers, was the screenwriter. That ended up being the first in a double feature for me last Saturday as I followed it up with A Serious Man, a movie so bizarrely normal that it could only be a Coen brothers affair.

So, quick rundown: Sherlock: thank you Guy Ritchie for making a good piece of film again, we'll discount that whole Madonna decade and forgive you for falling under the "Anything With Jason Statham is Awesome" spell all of Hollywood did. Bravo. Avatar: I now consider myself an official Avatard. Listen, yes, calling something Unobtanium is annoying: thanks, James Cameron, we got the metaphor you're pulling. But, it's a blockbuster movie: it's not supposed to be unreachably complex. So if the judge of a movie is that you go and "forget about life for a while" (2 points to who knew it without a Google), Avatar may be the best ever. I've never felt that much a part of a universe outside of a heavy Harry Potter'izing session. Where the Wild Things Are: hate to pull the "didn't love it...but I respect it" card but, damn, it's true. Am I horrible person for saying it was a little too real-life (yes, in case you were wondering I see the irony in a movie about an imaginary world of monsters being "too real", you jerks)? All the things you forget about your childhood: confusion, rage, nonsensical and sometimes hurtful energy, etc. were thrown in your face with enough force to make you feel more than moderately uncomfortable. Perhaps I'll have to see it again when I just wanna be taken on that emotional rollercoaster. 10 points for the monsters though, they could not have been done better. A Serious Man: like all Coen flicks with the exception of No Country for Old Men, you'll have to ask me in six months and two more viewings. Too much to digest in one sitting.

Which, brings us to Up in the Air. Fantasmagoric. Loved it, loved it, loved it, loved it. I have not seen many films that are able to simultaneously express the complexity and utter simplicity of life simultaneously. The characters are all fantastically written and acted and it mixes the obvious with the mysteries in delightful proportions. In case I forgot to tell you: I loved this movie. Please see it.

David Cromwell is a movie-reviewer for an imaginary publication that nobody reads, even in his imaginary world. He could once be reached on his cell phone but he lost that a few weeks ago and has been too lazy to get another one. If you have any comments/rants/questions for him I swear: it's not worth your time. Some causes truly are lost.

December 14, 2009 "David Cromwell's Achievement of 2009-Becoming an Idiot...in TWO Languages!"

Team:

I'm sitting here exercising my eurotrash muscles (read: typing while sipping on a cafe con leche) and the bartender just came up to ask me if I wanted anything else, to which I naturally responded "Could you make me a tea?" I say that as it should have come out but five minutes after watching him walk away laughing (in my face first then undoubtedly behind my back to all his friends in the kitchen, yep, I heard chuckles) I now realize that I politely asked him if he could physically transform my entire being into that of "a tea." Whether he was laughing at the metaphysics of that or how stupid I am I'll leave you the reader to decide.

This brings up an important strand that needs to be shared with you all. I'm sure some of you have seen engrish.com (if you haven't, welcome to the next 3.5-7 minutes of your life), but as most people can attest to after living in a foreign country: some of the jokes do hit a bit too close to home. Oh, you have your classics, the American wishing to compliment the chef by saying how fresh everything is, what a pleasure it is to eat food without preservatives, or preservativos. Simple enough, except he's just told the chef thanks for holding the condoms in his tortilla de patatas.

I myself will admit to making similar mistakes, but not that one: that's what stupid people do (wait for the irony in 3, 2, 1...). For instance, while asking for food in the dining hall my first month here I was beginning to feel like I was starting to get a hang for the language, which is like having sex in a scary movie: you're gonna go down, and soon. How badly is the only question.

Anyway, long story short I asked for the waitress to please give me some chicken. Or so I thought. Note the "o" at the end of the Spanish word for chicken, pollo, because if you accidentally say polla you've just asked the waiter to give you some (pardon my french) dick. That's right, I may have the best/weirdest/most non-sensical pickup line in the history of Western Civilization (editor's note: she didn't call).

But yeah, figured you guys would enjoy that. Okay back to work, hope you're all well.

December 6, 2009

Hey team just thought I'd write a quick note to everyone out there and-once again-confirm that I am both upright and breathing. I had a competition last weekend at it actually went pretty well. Ended up 23.3/50.4 in the backstrokes and 48.0 in the 100 freestyle (scm). I was really rust and didn't feel like I started to hit my stride until the last relay (that's when I went 50.4 after going 51.0 in the individual) but all in all pretty encouraging. Feel like some of the changes I've been making are starting to show up.

But enough about swimming, let's get down to the more important things in life. Like uh, me. Right? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller? Shoot.

Still livin it up here in Spain and took the weekend to get caught up on all the work that I'd missed with the meet. I'm busy as a bee and I'm told I wouldn't have it any other way. Though while heading home at night I seem to see the same people about to go out for another crazy night out on the town, every single night of the week. This makes me wonder if I've made the correct career decisions. Thought admittedly, professional clubber isn't something I'm striving to put on my resume...though you never know (read: if you have a job for me, please let me know).

I'm pretty excited to be heading back to God's country in a couple weeks to spend Xmas with the whole family and I'm rubbing my lucky rabbit's foot for it to be a white Xmas. In fact, hopefully there will be snow on the ground by the time the UMont Grizzlies take the field against Appalachian State next weekend to make the biggest homefield advantage in football even bigger (note: up with Montana!). Anyway, even though I've lived "abroad" (that is to say, anywhere outside of Montana is abroad to me) for 7 years now I can't imagine anyplace but Missoula ever truly being home for me.

Ahhhh, sentimentality. You know you love it. While we're getting all mushy-gushy here I thought I'd throw a big "hello" to my new Spanish readership: Jesus, que pasa tio? That's right, we're getting international here at davidcromwell.net, one of the 10 readers now hails from outside of my family. Only took two years!

Okay, more to come but I hope that you are all well out there, and thanks for reading. I'll leave you with a video I enjoyed:

 

 

November, 2009 "Ahhhh"

Team: I apologize for my absence but the reality is that for some reason I think it would be way better to just go on pretending like nothing happened than explaining the last year of not saying anything. Long story short, I'm swimming/studying/working in Madrid, Spain right now. Yeah, that's about it.

Well, where did I leave you all off? It doesn't matter we all know this isn't a site for deep and meaningful things, just a place for me to share with some people who don't care my observations about things that don't matter. So, again, let's skip over why I haven't written for 14 months and get into the good stuff: Spain.

Okay, first things first, it's important for everyone to know that I could not be happier to be in Spain and I now consider Madrid to be my favorite city in the world. That's a lot coming from a kid who grew up in Montana I know (wink, wink) but bear with me.* This is important because I am sure I will make a lot of fun of this beautiful country and its more beautiful people and culture. It truly is marvelous. Unfortunately, for a 70-year old 25-year old like myself that means that the greatest compliment I can give it is pick it apart to its bones. Lo siento in advance.

So, some important things to discuss for those of you who, like me prior to a year ago, have never lived abroad or even you spoiled brats that have (note: I am aware of the irony of that sentence). First off, the obvious question: how different is it? Let me list some things that still continue to shock me:

1. There is salt and olive oil yet NO pepper on the tables. That's right no waiters asking "a-fresh a-ground a-peppa?" here. Spaniards are very sensitive to spices (something that my Austin-induced addiction to Mexican food has hated me for) and have even had people tell me they don't like it. Don't like it? Isn't that like saying you don't like water?

2. Smoking. Heysus Cristo. Can we join the post-Mad Men era and give up the habit? Forget all those annoying studies that say it's not ideal for your health, it's my thought that if you want to poison your body I'll gladly accept the tax money in return. I am positive that anyone in the Western World is aware that it would probably be better not to put that tar into your lungs. What shocks me, however, is the stand-or complete lack thereof-of this country towards second-hand smoke. Come to think of it, I don't even know how to say that in Spanish...that's because similar to American policy on Global Warming pre-2008 this country is just pretending it doesn't exist.

Smokers in America are great. I can't think of the last time I was around someone who didn't ask "do you mind if I smoke" or at least feign a movement that mimicked a desire to keep the smoke from going in my face. Four eyes here has had to leave his contacts at home ladies and gentleman as my thoughts on wearing them out on a Saturday night can only be summed up by the immortal Jack Nicholson: "I'd rather stick needles in my eyes." Seriously though, one in each eye would hurt less.

So leave your camels at home you pre-13 year olds, you won't need them. Come to Spain and you'll get more nicotine than any filtered American cigarette could offer!

3. Toilets. Wow. Some of you may remember that showers and toilets seem to be a big thing for me and I can't help but notice these amenities in whatever country I'm in. Again, in no way does it decide whether or not I like a country but it does leave a lasting impression on me. See my entry on Japan for instance: will always think of the greatest toilets in the world when reminiscing of my time there.

Anyhoooo, the showers in Spain are in the running for best in Europe (certainly Western. Though with France, Italy and (gasp, the worst of all) England as competition, it's not as if this is something write home about) as I would count pressure as an especially welcome breath of fresh air in this country.

That said, 5 point deduction for the water levels in the toilets boys. I remember having a heated debate with some friends in Texas about whether it would be more disrespectful to "upper deck" someone's toilet or just leave a steamer on top. I mean, I overheard people saying that...

Anyway, the point is that now it's clearly the latter as the smell of human waste is the most atrocious in the olfactory galaxy. How do I know this? Spanish toilets have SO little water in them that the waste sits out in the open air just waiting to invade my pores (apparently not flushing here is also a national past-time. You know, like bullfighting). So, Spanish bathrooms will consistently smell like you're stuck in an out-house in 90 degree summer heat except sneakily more vindictive.

Alright, I don't wanna blow my load on the first post here but I do wanna say thank you to each and every single one of you that emailed me to tell me to start writing again. I got every single one of them and for some gosh darn reason didn't know how to respond. Pretty lame isn't it? I promise I haven't gone Hollywood on you, and still appreciate your support from the bottom of this little soul. That said I have gone Euro-trash so if you don't recognize me at a meet because of my skin-tight jeans, black button-up shirt, full-face sunglasses, faux-hawk and bottle of nutella in each hand it's not your fault.

Okay team, it's good to be back and I will be talking with you more soon.

*Note: Clearly I said "city" and not "town" and therefore have not cut my roots out from underneath myself: Missoula is still the last best place.

September 2, 2008 "Not to beat it into the ground..."

But the last discussion about Wham-with-an-exclamation-mark led me to this video on Youtube:

Ahhhh...Wham! truly never will be topped. ORANGE MOCHA FRAPPUCINO's!!!!!

August 31, 2008 "Summertime: Our Generation's Answer to Wham!'s 'Wake me Up Before You Go Go'"

I am a huge NKOTB (New Kids on the Block to those of you scoring at home). I may have taken 16 years off from my fandom, but the fire still burns. You can't put out a flame like that simply by ignoring it.

With this in mind, I've been listening to/watching the video of the block-rockin summer classic "Summertime" by the once-New Kids [insert pun here] incessantly since I had the pleasure of hearing they were back in the game. If I had any doubts, they were immediately erased when my friend confirmed their awesomness by seeing them in concert.

Anyway, I would like to put forth to you the idea that this is our generation's answer to the single most happiness-inspiring song of all time, Wham-with-an-exclamation-mark's "Wake Me Up Before You Go Go."

"Hold up there!" say my Indian and Japanese brothers and sisters. As someone that without exception loves and appreciates all aspects of all other cultures* I have to give credit where credit is due to some strong challengers on the international scene. First, to my Bombay (or is it Mumbai?) brother Dahler Mendi and his voraciously hip song "Tunak Tunak Tun":

 

Then to the original creators of the boyband movement*, the Japanese greats Happatai:

If I were to make a choice simply based on visual medium, Happatai might just come out ahead...

But I said song, not music video. While NKOTB is now too old to dance (check out the freezes at the end of their video in lieu of actually choreography they did in classics like Hangin Tough) and George Michael does in fact wear a pink shirt with yellow gloves (I'd like to think that a bizzarro-24 year old me would have foretold the G. Michael-bathroom incident had he been around at this song's release) in his video, I'm judging this on lyrics and catchy beats alone.

Join the revolution team. NKOTB is back (kind of) to stay (memories are fleeting).

*That's a Lie
*So is that

August 29, 2008 "Philosophimitizin: Part 1 of a Self-Aggrandizing Series"

First off, I don't know how many Dave Eggers fans there are out there but he's the only current author whose books I await/read immediately. Just absolutely love him, love that he continues to do wield that rarest of gifts: to inspire and devastate people who read the strings of words he puts together depending on what he wants to do. Though I love his novels, my absolute favorite bit of his that I've come across is an interview he did with The Harvard Advocate back in 2000. Here is the link:

http://www.armchairnews.com/freelance/eggers.html

Anyway, as I have been pontifimacating (last perversion of a big word I'm too afraid to use lest you judge me as a Harvard-grad and not an idiot, I promise) about similar subjects as of late I thought it a fitting segue into one of the realizations I've had along this 7,600 mile road trip I've been on. Without further ado I give to, realization #1:

"Responsibility" Does Not Exist, Only "Opportunity."

I dabbled wtih making that sound more or less like it came out of Yoda's mouth. Just a quick FYI.

Listen, I realize that a lot of people will think that these realizations are nothing more than mincing words but, to me, these little changes are importnat. All I know is that after the first time I went fly-fishing (circa 1991) I've never looked at a river the same way. Where once I just saw slow or fast moving water, now I think "that bank would be a nice overhang for some fish to hang out" or "I'll bet there are fish hanging out by that tributary, right by those ripples." Same thing with snowboarding: snow-blanketed mountains were from thereon judged by how well they would be suited for carving. Anything new changes the way you see the world.

So yes, it is important to me because all that exists is perception on a day-to-day basis. That's a whole other can of worms, but the point is that 99% of the time the world doesn't change, but how we "perceive" it. Follow?

But that's not new. In fact every single thing I've written on here is not new stuff. It's been done before and will be done again. All that I have-and also the reason that twelve or fifteen of you read this-is perspective. I see the world differently than anyone before me and anyone that will ever come after me. The string of cliche's that compose my life are different than your's and to some it's an interesting combination of them. I like to think that I've been observant about the occurences too and, hopefully, help anyone that is reading this use something from it and apply it later. Or maybe it's selfish: it's to help me make sense of things. I'm not sure, we'll address that one later too.

But basically I've realized that responsibility is just another word for saying you don't like the opportunity. In swimming: you have a "responsibility" to your team, teammates, coach, self, etc. In life you have a "responsibility" to your family, friends, job, career, pay back your debt, etc.

I say bullshit. All those are opportunities, just good and bad ones. And even then, that is a completely self-defined view of good and bad. My coach actually tried to phrase things this way my freshman year of college...but like most young people (yes, I still am one of them) I didn't get it/buy it. So let me put it in simple terms:

Every morning practice is an opportunity to make yourself better and (hopefully) those around you. So instead of waking up in the morning think you "have to" it really is that you "get to." You have an opportunity. Now, at 5am am I thinking that? No, more something in between "$%@#*! this $%#@" to "[not sure how to spell that long sigh/whimper that we all make]" But that's exactly when an "opportunity" becomes a "responsibility." That initial commitment you made to see how good you could become in one aspect of your life, that initial opportunity has now become a responsibility.

I only now understand how hard that can be sometimes, to continue seeing things that initially were an "opportunity" as that, and not a "responsibilty." I truly do believe that this is universal, from swimming to coaching to parenthood to jobs to life. How often does someone say "I'm excited about this responsibility"? Never. It's "Well, (sigh) I do have that responsibility." When you stop seeing something as an opportunity and see it as a responsibility something has to change because you will eventually make life miserable for yourself. And that's the best case scenario. Worst, of course, is that you ruin it for everything around you.

So in essence, by being "responsible" by "doing the right thing" without any passion you have done the biggest disservice for mankind you possibly can: you're robbing those around you of the passion that you have and that they should receive. I have now seen that happen first hand too often and am announcing my one-man campaign to fight it.

As of yet, I don't know how to fight it. What tool or gift has been given to me to do what Eggers does with words, what Springsteen does with song, what Phelps does with swimming. But although it's ovewhelming at times, I need to find it. No, I get to find it. It's supposed to be fun, it should be fun. It's an opportunity, and opportunities are fun and exciting.

Two television antennae got married. The wedding wasn't much, but the reception was great. Ouch.

August 21, 2008 "Hello, My Name is David Cromwell"

Hey Team, it's the webmaster-blaster here and I don't know who's out there but, like at the onset, I really don't care. I never wrote to anyone but to myself, family and friends. So whether there were 8 or 10,000 of you reading my perspective never really changed.

I am proud of that.

I just now read my entries post-Trials for the first time and you know what, at my worst I'm still pretty good. I was terriffied of what I would read, knowing how low I felt at the time and also how stupid/guilty I felt about feeling that way (wow, that's a lot of feeling in one sentence).

I'm proud of that.

I've been travelling a lot, doing it the way Americans are supposed to: driving. Yes, I have left a bigger carbon footprint in the last month than in my entire life before...but blow me. It seems harder and harder in this day and age to do something purely joyful. Purely anything for that matter.

You can take a vacation but you can't go without checking your email periodically. You can follow your dream BUT make sure you hedge your bets. You can do whatever you want but you can't do it without making sacrifices. Sacrifice what? Little old/young me thinks we can do it all and am so tired of believing otherwise.

I can't tell you how much more exhausting it is living your life within constraints and give-and-takes than collapsing every night under complete exhaustion. One is living, one is not.

I am not a philosopher nor tree-stump speaker though. I am an idiot. First and foremost, an absent-minded guy that likes to laugh and smile.

I can be serious and an idiot in one post. I can talk about life on a "swimming" blog. And, right after doing both or neither I can post my favorite Youtube video of all time:

 

I don't know why, but that video always makes me happy. I want to sit down with that guy (maybe only for 5-10 minutes, I'm not sure how much we'd have to talk about after all...) and buy him a beer and say thank you. I don't know what for, but I know I owe him something.

Thank you again for all your notes, I will be responding to them soon. More updates/stories/attempted witticisms to come.

Let's fly together,

Crom

July 10, 2008 "Don't Worry, I'm Fine"

I've gotten some notes over the last few days that seem to worry about me being suicidal. Haha, uh...my apologies if my last entry was overrly dramatic, writing something in the absolute heat of the moment will do that.

Life goes on. I'm trying to figure out my next move right now and-like I said before-I do have a pretty good grasp of what's important in life and swimming certainly isn't high up enough to cause long-term problems. I think what the last entry was about was the realization that I let swimming become too important in my life without even knowing it. Shoot, I thought I had already learned that lesson. Well, I am positive I know now.

Thank you again for all the well-wishes. Luckily I have other things going for me than just being a swimmer and I am starting to look forward to those.

July 6, 2008 "Shootin from the Hip"

When I started this site a year or so ago I wanted to learn how to design and run a website. Starting from scratch and not using the typical blogspot format is something I'm proud of, especially considering I had absoultely no background in web design.

I also didn't realize how much I enjoyed writing at the outset, that is another by-product of this endeavor for which I am very thankful.

For you, the few readers who have come here, I thought it would be interesting for you to hear what goes on in the mind of someone like me: an underdog kicking and scratching for every possible inch. The only thing I can say I've offered is honesty and frankness. When I was down or up, you knew it.

Someday I'll get around to reading all of the entries but I thought I would leave you with what was going through my mind when I didn't final in the 200m back. Currently I find myself in the minor throes of depression and disbelief. My body gave out on me. I am proud that I kept fighting through the meet despite it all, but crushed nonetheless with the end-result.

My biggest fear in moving to Texas was to be viewed as the guy who was "cool by association." With every workout, every set, every meet, every race I tried to prove that I belonged at the elite level and wasn't just "happy to be there." I went into this last week believing that I could make the Olympic Team and I as well as those who trained with me know that in an alternate universe I just may have pulled it off.

If I could go back to the moment of training and fix all this I would absolutely go against the "I Did it My Way"-Sinatra attitude and fix it. But I can't.

The one takeaway at the moment I have from all of this is that my belief that I needed to be selfish this summer was unequivocally wrong. I am only now realizing that I had hurt someone that means an incredible amount to me because I believed it would be okay to put myself first under the circumstances. There is no goal so illustrious, no engagement so important out there that I will ever sacrifice my one and only principle of putting family and friends first again.

To all my supporters: Thank You. In particular I would like to thank all of you from back home in Montana. I wanted to bring you gold but I know that I at least brought hope. I'm sure some young tyke out there will eventually do it.

Here is the stream-of-consiousness that I wrote down when I knew it was all over:

“?”

It’s hard to describe what I’m feeling right now. As someone that’s not completely out of touch with what is important in life it’s always hard for me to admit that something as miniscule in the grand scheme of things such as swimming has broken my heart.

Like most things in life though, simply repeating this fact isn’t enough to make it feel true. The beautiful/horrible thing about us as people is that emotion can construct a wall that even the most rational person can’t knock down.

Don’t worry though, I’m not depressed. Just confused.

In my career I have failed three times when trying to achieve my goals (countless times on a day-to-day basis, but only thrice in the grand scheme of things):
1. Not qualifying for the 2000 Olympic Trials
2. Not qualifying for the 2003 NCAA Championships
3. Failing at the 2008 Olympic Trials.

I’m not that upset about not making the Olympic Team. This was always about time. Getting faster. Becoming better in the water and a better person out of it. My times this weekend were a joke.

I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel. I often feel like a robot, confused about what emotion I'm feeling and only realizing it after that fact. Embarrassment, sadness, anger.

I am confused. I have been confused all season.

I am proud of my teammates. I am jealous of my teammates.

I am better than what you saw.

I don’t know what I am going to do.

June 24, 2008 "Hm."

First off, many have asked the TV Schedule for Trials:

Sunday, June 29 8:00-9:00 pm ET NBC

Monday, June 30 8:00-9:00 pm ET USA

Tuesday, July 1 8:00-9:00 pm ET USA

Wednesday, July 2 8:00-9:00 pm ET USA

Thursday, July 3 8:00-9:00 pm ET USA

Friday, July 4 8:00-9:00 pm ET NBC

Saturday, July 5 8:00 -9:00 pm ET NBC

Sunday, July 6 8:00 -9:00 pm ET NBC

The 100 Back Semi's are June 30th and finals July 1st. The 200 back Semi's are July 3rd and Finals July 4th.

Okay, moving on, so we're comin in on that one meet that's been on the back of our minds here for a couple years and I must admit it feels a little bit surreal. If you're waiting for that delightful post where I succinctly put everything into perspective though, unfortunately you're going to have to wait until after the meet. I'm treating this one just like any other big meet I've been nervous for in the past, from the Montana Age Group Championships growing up to High School State to Harvard/Yale/Princeton, the EISL's and NCAA Champs at Harvard and every National Championship Meet I've competed in over the years. I've been to the Olympic Trials before, although I must admit that making the team was a far-off dream at the time that I didn't take seriously.

Am I fooling myself? Will the 16,000 fans watching me expose this ruse? Perhaps.

But really, it all boils down to this even more foolish belief I've had my entire life (sorry, I didn't learn to swim until I was 6 months old): once I dive into the pool it's hard for me to believe anyone can get his hand to the wall before me. It's simple and it's fun. I'll just be trying to keep that attitude. It's tough at times with all the hoopla, but that's what this is all about.

Thank you to each and every single person that has wished me luck. If I don't get back to you before the meet I swear I will thank you afterward.

June 20, 2008 "You Know You're Bored When..."

You watch all six and a half minutes of this video:

Thank you Tessa, I think.

Please read the description they put up of this video:

Shming the African hedgehog swims and floats, age 3 years, 7 months, 11 days.
DO NOT try this with an inexperienced swimmer. Shming is an excellent swimmer, but you could drown one if you don't know EXACTLY what you're doing! Even the best swimmer should NEVER, EVER be left alone!

Um, how does she talk in that high voice for so long? Do these people really exist?

Also, just as "Pacman" Jones is officially requesting to be called "Adam" from now on, I would like to formally request that everyone call me Shming. Be ready to update your web browsers for when we change this site to www.shmingcromwell.net

June 17, 2008 "I'm a Grown Ass Man"

We've had previous discussions on here about my ongoing quest to keep it awkward (1984-present) and would like to share with you another peek in the mountain range that is my graceless life. I saw Kung Fu Panda. Alone.

Really this isn't that big of a deal, I'm over the "you're not cool if you go to movies without chicks" or worse "you're a loser if you go alone" stereotypes. I am particular about who I see a movie with and often can't find a suitable partner (for the record: no double entendres were intended). Basically I went into the theatre and tried to find a quiet corner only to see everyone ignore the four rows free in front of me and pack in tight in my immediate vacinity.

With firm and uninviting body language, however, I made it clear that the two seats next to me were reserved for no one and felt a comfortable personal bubble....until ten minutes into the movie. Next thing I know I have two precocious Spanish speaking tykes on my right who seem to think that they should ask me the questions their father won't answer.

Luckily, this story has a happy ending as I overcame initial horror (I HATE little kids crying at movies) and ended up sharing popcorn and laughs with my young neighbors. Yes, the movie is that good and yes, my IQ/sense of humour that undeveloped.

Anyway, I was feeling conflicted about the experience until I saw this clip:

I do hate to sell myself short, but I am sure that no matter how hard I try I will not be able to make that list. Thank heaven for Nicole Ritchie though. Just fantastic.

The countdown does bring up another favorite pastime of mine though, a little game called "Oh Jim Gray, How Do I Hate Thee"

While a lot of people bring up the 1999 Pete Rose interview, my fire of hatred for Jim Gray was lit when he asked a track athlete about his "disappointment" for winning a bronze medal. The athlete was holding his child in his hand and was so proud of his achievement that he ignored Jim's question and talked about how all the hard work he put in was still worth it. Of course Gray cut him off and went to the studio.

But I digress, and I really don't hate (almost) anyone.

Also, taper is amazing but I'm getting very bored, which I'm told is supposed to happen. This is my first real taper in a long, long time and I'm restless as _____ [insert adjective here]. I would def. say I'm in the top tier of persons with an ability to entertain himself/herself, but doing that without expending any energy whatsoever is challenging. Here's the Top 5 I Wrote About It, if you're curious about my possible solutions. But here's a secret you'll only find on davidcromwell.net, they aren't working that well.

Anyway, Italy won today at Euro's so hopefully the Lucca relatives can rest a little easier, although a quarterfinal with Spain probably isn't ideal.

I'll stop talking about things I have no idea about. Yep, that means this entry is over. Talk to you soon.

June 11, 2008 "Update Needed"

Hey team, just wanted to let you know I haven't forgotten about you. I'll give a big "hey here's what's going on and terribly interesting insights on life" post in a bit. I'm pretty beat right now after a full day of Watching Euro's 2008, only doing a single, taking a nap on a couch and then getting some sun at Barton Springs. Yeah, CRAZY!

Anyway, more to come.

June 3, 2008 "A Big Week"

Okay, we haven't done the swimming-talk-thing for a while so let's get that out of the way. Training last week was a little frustrating: I couldn't find my stroke. I've talked to some of my other athlete friends and the best way I can put it is you go through the motions with mixed results (maybe even good) but you just don't "feel it" so to speak: your strokes aren't natural. Anyway, after a TON of drill'ing and soul-searching (ha, actually that's not true, twasn't that serious of a problem) I embarked on a new week yesterday and, wow, what a difference a weekend makes. I am 100% on track mentally and physically at the moment.

We have a meet this weekend here in Austin (hopefully results will be available at www.texasseniorcircuit.com, but that site has been inconsistent this summer) and have finallly started to bring it down a bit in the weight room and as of today, in the pool as well. You know never know how your body is going to react to decreased work in the short term, so this weekend will be interesting. Regardless, I know I'm right on track for four weeks from now.

Now, more important things: music. Ohboyohboyohboy I had a great week on that front. Started off by finally picking up Paul Simon's 2006 release Surprise. I see what he was going for and oh man, this is so close to being brilliant. The lyrics are unbelievable (as always) but I just can't quite love it as much as his earlier stuff. Still, check out Everything About it is a Love Song, which is, at the least, worth a listen. Also, on the guilty pleasure front I have two more for you: 1. Party Ben's Mashup of Lyrics Born and U2. Thank you Grant this song is the absolute hotness (you can actually download it here as well as some other club stuff) and 2. Jason Mraz. I'm as big of a non-Mraziac as you can find out there...so it's with great pain that I concede I enjoy his new album. Damnit.

On the "Check out the music I listen to, aren't I ridiculously cultured" front, big into Brazilian music this week. First off, check out this Youtube vid of Seu Jorge, the guy from City of God and The Life Aquatic:

Don't you love it when the girl (appropriately named Ana Carolina) comes on to the stage? I can't stop smiling when I see how much fun she's having. I hope I have that same look at Trials...

Anyway, also on the Brazilian front is "Boa Sorte" by Vanessa da Mata (Here is a link to a Youtube slideshow with it playing in the back). Love that one. Thanks to "Gus" for all the rec's.

Also, hope you enjoy the updated intro. The previous one had bothered me for a while and I think this is a bit cleaner. Thank you for being patient with a man that had no knowledge of websites (or anything really) before starting this little project. Hope to add some more cool features soon...but no guarantees :)

A smiley face. Yuck. What have I become? A shadow of the man I once was before learning HTML, that's for sure.

May 28, 2008 "OH MY GOD!!! I'M A HIPPIE!!!!"

A hurtful revelation came today in the David Cromwell appartment-that-I-share-with-a-roommate-cause-I-can't-afford-anything-nicer-as-I-should-also-mention-that-it's-not-a-nice-appartment-either-but-hey-it's-home, when I ran through the day's activivities.

May 28th started off fine enough: practice in the morning (okay, could be better), then I wrote a bit for swimnetwork, then took a quick nap before going to talk with some 7th and 8th grade French students at Cedar Valley Middle School (if you're reading: vous etiez incroyable! Merci pour tout Anne et tous les etudiants) then went to practice again. But here's where it gets bad:

I came home and had a quick salad before going out to buy a book (Death in the Afternoon) and then WALK over from the bookstore to Whole Foods (an organic market!?!?!?!?!) then walk back to my truck before going to see a French movie...by myself.

On the way home it hit me: Dave, you're a pu$$&! No, worse: A HIPPIE! NOOOOOOOOOOooooooooo!!!!!!

Folks, when did this happen? Because I'm about to drive me pickup out to a BBQ Restaurant in West Texas (leaving as large a carbon footprint as I can on the way) to atone for my sins. It didn't used to be this way. I was a normal guy, who just wanted to do his part and help the environment (so I could kill things like fish and later my kids could kill things like fish) and eat good food. Blast!

I'm ruined. What if my Texas teammates find this out about me? Worse yet, my competitors at Olympic Trials in four weeks? This can't happen, nobody is afraid of a hippie, they're weak by definition.

My only hope is to eat red meat, drink beer, and watch Die Hard all weekend long. I'll let you know how it goes.

May 25, 2008 "Pretty, Pretty, Pretty, Prettygood. Prettygood."

Alright Team, I am genuinely excited about a few things I'm working on right now for the site. As you can see I've finally taken down the Timed Finals link (may she rest in piece) and revealed that I desperately want to swim and live abroad next year (any takers, you know how to find me!). I have also finally taken off my "I want to stay moderately technologically up-to-date...as long as it doesn't require any work" cap and am committed to adding some cool things to the site. Not because anyone comes here, but because I really love learning about all of this stuff. Again, I have no training in any of this other than reading a leaflet or two so gimme a break.

Besides, the best writing on the web is what brings you all (again, sorry Texans, still sticking with my roots there and will keep it as two words) here. Wait, what ARE you doing here?

On that note, a little bird told me (I named her "Server Statistics") that we've been invaded by foreigners around here. Yikes! To those reading from afar, Bienvenue, Willkomen, Bienvenido, Benvenuto, Bem-vindo and uh...yeah that's all I've got. Although, oddly enough I have a hunch that if you read up to that point in English, the translation was probably unnecessary. But maybe that's just me. Regardless, don't know what brought you here but thank you for visiting.

Moving on to my usual words of wisdom shall we? Well I have none of course and will therefore regale you with more stories of how fickle life can seem when you're completely dependent on all limbs and muscles functioning properly (read: not getting injured). So walking into the weight room with my friend I just missed breaking my toe by two microns, as my flip flop caught on a stair so hard that I fell down. Again, landing to the laughter of those around me actually seemed so sweet because I was able to get up under my own power. Lucky Me Episode 1.

Episode 2 was almost walking into oncoming traffic and, most terriffyingly, the series finale (oh Lord I hope it was) occurred tonight while cooking.

No friends, nothing special in the kitchen tonight to speak of, just some penne and chicken with a bunch of veggies. Instead, what is worth mentioning is how I almost killed myself TWICE! While reaching for some seasoning above the stove I did the typical comedy-routine-you-see-in-a-movie-but-don't-believe-it's-real-because-no-one-is-that-stupid thing and knocked one thing over that led to the whole kit 'n kaboodle tumbling down one at a time. After saving almost everything, a nice bottle of balsamic vinegar came crashing down. While stopping the initial blow (it landing on the cooking food), I was unable to right the ship: she came CRASHING down no more than 6 inches from my feet. I've seen less impressive explosions in Hollywood films btw, as glass and black vinegar was everywhere. Awesome.

Oh, but it gets better. While cleaning up the mess on the ground embarrassedly (my roommate came out to check if I was alive...and then laugh at me) I was all of a sudden struck in the head with a plastic cap. I looked up and to my horror a lone bottle of Pam had snuck beside the pan without me seeing it and was heated so much it literally "blew its top." I immediately thought explosion and went to grab it and throw it off the stove. Friends, I was too late.

I would like to issue a special thank you to the makers of Pam for making an idiot proof bottle. No wait, even more impressive, a Harvard-grad proof bottle. Turns out instead of exploding in your hand and blowing you to bits the bottom simply explodes off. Yes, I did get Butter Flavored Pam all over my shorts, legs, kitchen, and what was left of my dignity; but I am proud to report that I am typing this with two hands.

It's all funny, but the chances that I make it to Trials without serious injury appear to be growing slighter and slighter. Heaven save me. If you are aware of a fund/school/program to help someone as helpless as me, please do inform me.

May 20, 2008 "More to Come"

Hey guys, just wanted to let you know I'm alive. Had a pretty good weekend in College Station that was highlighted by a 2:00.5 200 back and 1:50.5 200 free. I was doubling everyday and, frankly, at the moment I am beat. I will update and try to make you crack a smile a little later in the week.

May 14, 2008 "Random Facts"

So you may have noticed that I added a "random fact of the week" section. This actually came about one day at practice when people started asking me to give them fun facts, when I asked 'why me' they immediately responded "because you went to Harvard." Fair enough.

Anyway, I love worthless tidbits so I hope to waste your time with them.

May 13, 2008 "Proud to be an American"

Oh man, I had a fantastic weekend. As the title suggests (and is also a major hint as to my favorite Fourth of July song), I engaged in some good, clean American fun recently. I made a promise to my friend two years ago that in the entire time I lived in Texas I would never visit Houston, a mere two hour drive from Austin. This weekend, I reneged.

But, unlike the broken promises I make all of you, I actually don't feel bad about this one. You see, the very same friend that I made this vow to also declared that he would never, ever live in Houston. That is the man that I went to visit. So, all in all, I think he is the bigger hypocrite.

Anyway, I would like to thank my sponsor for this trip, Edwin C. Reese. You see, the Texas coach gave the pro's our first Saturday morning workout off since I moved here two years ago. To celebrate I thought that I would get out on the open road and drive to Houston. What a brilliant decision.

I had forgotten how much I enjoy road trips and can say that there is nothing more American than tearing down the highway with the windows rolled down, music pumped up and a mouthful of sunflower seeds (optional, but I encourage). This reveals the most hypocritcal part of me: I am an avid environmentalist yet I drive a pick-up. I'm not proud of it, as it was a graduation gift given to me with the intention being that I would use it for fishing and camping back in Montana. BUT, I currently find myself ripping down the Texas highways in my anything-but-fuel-efficient automobile. Really, I don't drive much on a day-to-day basis but at the same time I can't imagine giving up the ability to go on a road trip that all Americans grew up idealizing: from Kerouac to Willie Nelson and all the way back to Lewis and Clark. I don't put my 2 hour drive to Houston in the same league as these guys, but still, something that it's nice to know is there if I need it and a common thread amongst us Americans.

Plus, you always learn something on road trips. For instance, I had no idea that La Grange was a city in Texas. That ZZ Top song makes so much more sense now. Damn. Anyway, decided to take a detour through it...while many would say I hadn't missed much, I am more sympathetic to small-town American than most. I'm glad I took the 30 extra minutes to check it out.

I've now road-tripped in every part of the country and I must say, while Texas' urban sprawl is enough to knock the state categorically into the bottom 5 states to drive through, the Lone Star State's roadside food is unparalleled. Any Texas roadside BBQ shack is so perfect for the accidental tourist it's hard to imagine the cuisine wasn't initially engineered with this scenario in mind. Anyway, if you get a chance, 290 East is stunning this time of year: green and inviting. Really reminded me of some areas around the Yellowstone River by where my mom grew up in Eastern Montana.

Okay, before I go to bed I also wanted to plug Mason Jennings as a "gotta listen to" musician. Went to the concert with some friends and my training partner Aaron Peirsol has become buds with Mason (he also introduced him to me initially), so got us backstage again to chat with him. An equally great guy as musician, makes me like him even more.

Anyway, I'm a big fan of Napster's newly packaged site as you can stream entire albums on there. If you're going to do just that (as I would recommend with artists like Mason, not Dexie's Midnight Runners), check out Use Your Voice or Century Springs Here but if you're in need of instant gratification just check out some of my favorite songs here. That catalogue would include: "Sorry Signs on Cash Machines," "Jackson Square," "Crown," "Lemon Grove Avenue," "Ulysses," and "Bullet." His music is simple and to the point, but lyrics are out of this world good.

Alright, beddy bye.

May 7, 2008 "Continued Life Lessons"

In a continuing series I'm doing on Life Lessons with David Cromwell I thought I would share with you some further words of wisdom learned by your's truly.

Lesson #Don't Know/Infinite: never, ever, under any circumstances go to the grocery store hungry. I had to tutor after workout yet still needed to get my week's supply of greens. There have been documented cases of swimmers nibbling at their own limbs if they do not get sustenance within three hours of workout so I knew I was chancing it by making a stop at my friendly neighborhood food market. I knew this lesson yet thought to myself 'it's okay, you're only getting fruits and veggies...no biggie,' WRONG! I did leave the store with my greens but also with some queso, hummus, salmon, salsa, chips, yogurt and a lollipop. A lollipop? WTF? Every aisle I went by while heading to the produce seemed to hold a new treat my tastebuds dreamed so delectable I had to have it, despite everything my motor skills and better thinking tried. Oy vey.

This is really a microcosm of a major problem I face in life: I am seemingly incapable of learning anything except through failure. This grocery store fiasco is just the latest example in a series of missteps that is my life. While I hope that those missteps still follow an upward trajectory, only time will tell. I often particularly wonder if I will ever find my calling in life. What I imagine is finding everything I don't like until one day, at the ripe old age of should've already been retired already I find that occupation. Although I am moderately positive I can just live at my parents house until my brother gets a high paying job. So, iin the immortal words of Carl Spackler, "I got that going for me. Which is nice."

May 6, 2008 "Happy Belated Cinco de Mayo"

Hey team it's your usual lazy-lost-touch-with-reality-pseudo-professional-athlete here, wishing you a belated Cinco de Mayo. Things are actually going really well here at the moment and just wanted to take the time to offer a quick update. Training in particular has been great, and am excited because I feel like the stroke changes I've been working so hard on are finally starting to click. I'm a nerd: yes, I can now get excited about my swimming stroke. Good God, what's happened to me?

But on to more important things. I loved Steven Seagal. What he let happen to himself after the brilliant beginning to his career was enough to leave a bad enough taste in my mouth to renounce all ties to one of my childhood heroes. I mean, he didn't even try. Forget bad career decisions, he did the one thing action stars can't: not be fat and slow. I will always try and remember the good times: highlighted of course by one movie. No, it's not Under Siege as you may have thought, but one of the my Top 5 Action Movies of All-Time: Out for Justice. If you haven't seen this cinematic masterpiece I highly suggest it. Think of a gorey mix between Bruce Willis in Die Hard and Jet Li in Lethal Weapon 4 and you've got a pretty good idea about Seagal's character. Badass.

Anyway, I bring this up because it came about when talking with a movie buff friend of mine in the weight room. He's a film major so actually knows what he's talking about (in theory) so I usually listen to him, even if his taste is flawed (neither Southland Tales nor Little Man are acceptable to like, sorry, I am judging). We started discussing our love for bad movies, we used to have bad movie Friday, where we would sit down and try and watch vaunted films such as Ghostrider, or anything with Christopher Lambert really. In fact it was that very straight-to-DVD-King that led to the group's disbanding. We all agreed that we could put up with it no longer.

Okay, the point is: he told me that American Pie 6 (its official title is American Pie Presents: Beta House) just came out on DVD. All we could both think was: Eugene, why would you do this to us? In fact I would argue that Levy has stooped lower than Seagal on my scale as a result of his Samuel L Jackson-esque work ethic. Good god man, stop making these movies. New York Minute with the Olson twins? What were you thinking? At least Seagal was too fat to make more than one movie a year.

The other disappointments I could think of were Jean-Claude Van Damme (sorry to say I liked at least three of his movies as a kid, including Double Impact, where he plays his own twin...ouch) and Vin Diesel. I don't care what you say, Pitch Black was sweet. Sweet enough, in fact, that I only graded Triple X as "okay" not "#*@&!"

Man, I really had nowhere to go with this. Sorry, I suppose I was just trying to find someone to listen to me. Having your heart broken multiple times will do that to you. The only current star I can think of with that capability is Jonah Hill. Please be the fat comedian I've been longing for since December 17, 1997, the death of the great Chris Farley. Something my family still mourns.

Archives: May/June 2007, July/August 2007, September/October 2007, November/December 2007, January/February 2008, March/April 2008