Here.

We had our first bike ride to class today.  In what I hope will become a tradition, we biked to Crossroads for an early breakfast, then Kylie went to her 8:00 class.  I am sitting here finishing my coffee and blogging, then we will meet at the library between classes.  She can study and I can check out chicks books.   Hehe just kidding, truly.  OK, well, mostly.  As I said the other day, college chicks don't interest me anymore -- except one.  But she's really not a college chick.  She has more gravitas than that.  Yeah, so....

I interviewed for a high school soccer coaching position yesterday.  At the Governor's School.  I am hoping to be the head boys coach, in charge of the whole boys program.  I doubt I'll get it, but I felt like I gave a very strong interview and I do feel like I have a shot.  It pays, but not a lot.  It would be a supplement, but more a labor of love.  I love coaching.  Everytime I step onto the field to ref a game, when I look around at the players and start to get into the atmosphere, I feel that pang.  I miss being part of the competition, at the center of a group of young men striving to outdo another group of young men.  I enjoy reffing, but I value the depth of relationship you can forge with your players.  Thinking about it has made me melancholy.  I have all these ideas and nuclei of plans in my head, but I am trying not to spend time spinning them out when it probably will all be for naught.  I don't make a habit of getting excited about things that are within the control of other people.

In my research for the interview I came across a fact tidbit that has touched a well of sadness in my heart.  I discovered that Bryan's old high school won the state boys soccer championship last year.  Had his ankle not been injured (twice) and had he not dropped out of school, he would have been a senior playing on that team.  It is just the ironic capper to a history of disappointing fortune for him with scholastic soccer.  For some reason, fate never wanted soccer to work out for Bryan.  When he wasn't holding himself back by lack of drive, luck stepped in and knocked him down.  The first time his ankle was broken was right after he had made the middle school team.  He was going to be the starting striker, but a club teammate broke his ankle in practice, and Bryan had to watch his school team lose a bunch of games because they couldn't score any goals.

Then in ninth grade he made the JV team only to sprain his ankle and miss half the season.  He was able to play a few games, during which he was switched to left back, where he appeared to have a future at Cox.  The following spring at varsity tryouts, a teammate broke his ankle.  Same ankle, same kind of impact.  Out for the season, and eventually done for good.  He later found out that he was slated for the varsity squad that year.  They had plans for him.  Then came junior year and Bryan basically dropped out of life for about eighteen months, dropping out of school.  He had to get surgery on the ankle to repair it because the orthopedist who treated his first break fucked up and the one who treated the second break did nothing.  Now he doesn't play soccer anymore despite being cleared by the surgeon, because he is afraid of breaking it again.  Shame.

So yeah, I fight the temptation to follow the what if game.  What if he had not had those two broken ankles.  Would being on the soccer team have kept him connected to school?  What if he had stayed in school, stayed on the team, started at left back for the state champions -- the best high school soccer team in the state?  Cox HS soccer stars get college scholarships from Virginia colleges.  I wonder if he ever thinks about it.  Whenever I think about Bryan and soccer -- which is just about any time I see a youth forward with great speed and finishing ability -- I want to cry.  I don't think there is anything in life that I miss as much as watching him play soccer.  God, I loved watching him play!  I loved coaching him.  He was such a good player.  Always seemingly on the cusp of elite status, but always either his lack of drive or his injuries stopped him from getting there.  Still, he was a marvelous player and he was pure grace on the field.  When he was motivated and focused on the game, he was as tough a player as you could ask for.  He could be a leader.  He was a winner.

But he always had the loser in him, and then for 18 months or so he became a Loser.  I think he will look back and realize that getting popped with the drugs was the best thing that ever happened to him.  What they all think of as bad luck is going to turn out to be the best luck he ever had.  It scared him.  And now it has forced him to do what he probably always should have.  Unfortunate that instead of going in with a ROTC scholarship and chance to come out as an officer he will be going in with a GED and as a grunt, but maybe in the long run it will be better that way.  Maybe he will gain the toughness and humility needed for true greatness.  With hard work and dedication he can still become an officer.  He'll get there the hard way, just like his father always does, I guess.  We'll see how he does.  He has to earn 15 college credits first, and he is signed up for online courses.  I hope he does it.  I hope he gives himself a reason to be proud of himself.

Damn, did I love watching him play soccer.

I really want that job.

Tonight I read some news websites for the first time in weeks.  I want to get back into staying on top of world events and blogging.  I like my squarespace blog, but I have gotten away from it in the effort to set up a photo business and just stay on top of shit in my personal life.  It sucks having to do things part-time.  I want to be a professional blogger/Russia expert, but I also want to have a photography business, but I also need to develop my law business because it is what pays the bills, but I also want to be a top-flight soccer referee.

I have an interview Thursday for the boys soccer coaching position at the governors school.  That would be a wonderful opportunity for me.  The money is marginal, but it would be great fun and another way to make a difference in a small way.  I feel like it's a good fit.  I probably won't get it, but I'm going to make a strong run at it.

Refereeing has gotten going.  We worked a big tournament last weekend, and have been assigned another tournament on the 29th/30th.  I'm the center for a U-17 boys elite game, which is a great challenge and something I believe I am up to.  I will have two very experienced ARs, and I will lean on them for help.  On Sunday I will be handling younger kids alone, including a U-11 final.  Should be a fun weekend.  I'm really enjoying reffing and believe I'm going to quickly become one of the most reliable and professional ones in our area.  Some of these guys make $10-15k a year doing it, which is a real nice supplement.  And man this shit can get political.  I am going to be smart this time.  I am going to get involved in the politics, and be smart about it.  I have learned in the past that even when you stay out of the politics, they can kill you.  Learned that when Norfolk FC folded and my team disappeared.  Wherever there are more than one person involved, there are politics.

Back from reffing in NoVA.  It was fun.  We had some great sex on a amaaaazing bed.  I'm exhausted, sore and suburnt.  Gooood weekend :) :)

Hello, Friends, Subscribers, and few random others.  Life has been strange of late, which is to say that life has been life of late.  Isn't life always strange?  Doesn't it always throw things at us that we do not expect?  Things we think will break us -- but don't?  Things we think will save us -- but don't?  Things that take a while to sort out?

I don't think Kylie has blogged since The Vacation (formerly known as The Honeymoon).  Not surprising, as it was traumatic and life has been busy since.  Our stay in the mountains was, in a word, traumatic.  It was really horrible.  We had some good moments, but for the most part, the cabin sucked and we were not able to do much.  The view was lovely.  The kitchen and living room were quaint.  But that's about all one could say in a positive vein.  The water was disgusting.  It smelled like feces and made you feel dirtier after a shower than before.  The kitchen had no dish drying rack.  That made doing dishes a bigger chore than it should be.  The place advertised the wonderful view of the Valley and sky from the jacuzzi, complete with picture.  In the intervening eight years after the picture was taken, the vegetation has grown up around the jacuzzi to completely obliterate the view of not only the Valley but of the sky as well.  We had a wonderful view of the nearby vegetation.  Not so fascinating in mid-summer.  There was more.  Kylie got sick and could do very little.  The dog got sick.  The whole thing just sucked.  So we decided that it was NOT our Honeymoon.  It was just a vacation, and we will take our honeymoon probably next year.  We're going to the Caribbean.

The best part of the trip was the day and  night in Charlottesville.  We stayed at the Red Roof Inn on the Corner and took a slew of awesome pictures of UVA.  We had a great room for a great price.

Saturday we went to IKEA in Woodbridge and had a bit of a spiritual experience.  Been there?  They set up little spaces in the showroom that are meant to portray living spaces.  One was a 290 square foot studio apartment in a city like New York.  We walked in there and saw ourselves at home, in our flat in Manhattan.  Both of us fell under the spell.  We looked at each other and both knew what the other was thinking: "This is Home."  It was a ridiculously tiny space, and would hold a ridiculously small amount of Stuff, but it was what we want for ourselves.

 We both want to live in New York.  It is a want that comes from the soul.  It is a powerful yearning.  It has become our objective.  On July 1, 2013, Kylie's 24th birthday and a month after she will graduate with honors from VCU, we will move into our new apartment in New York City.

We imagined our life.  Look, we don't really care where in the City we live.  We would like to live on Manhattan in a relatively safe neighborhood, but if it's in an anonymous building on an anonymous side street, that's fine.  We'll live in a borough if we have to.  We don't care if it's a tiny apartment.  We aren't big Stuff people.  We aren't big entertainers.  We want a comfortable space where we can eat and sleep and make love and be creative between ventures onto the streets of that amazing city.

We are both city people.  Kylie who grew up in mostly rural environments, and Fred who has spent his whole life in suburbs or rural small towns, are both city people.  It's our soul.  It flows in our blood.  Something about being in New York or Chicago wakes us up and makes us feel more alive.  I even loved every day of the Chicago winter.

I've always wanted to live in New York.  Maybe not my whole life, but since I was a teenager.  It's always been "too expensive."  Yeah, housing is costly and taxes are high, but things like food and clothing and consumer goods are not at all out of line.  In some ways, daily life is cheaper in Manhattan than in Virginia Beach.  To be able to shop at the different markets all the time, sit in the cafes and read the newspapers or the laptop, wander the streets with camera in hand, go to performances at Lincoln Center or Broadway, visit the museums and zoos, sprawl on the grass in Central Park, go to Yankee Stadium and Giants games..... That would be the perfect life for me.  Kylie has similar dreams.  She's even become a Yankee fan!  Turning into a true New Yorker.  :)

That trip to IKEA was spiritual for us.  I know it sounds funny, but sometimes a small experience just clicks.  It brings things together in your mind.  After the trauma of The Vacation, and with all the stress and worry facing us in the upcoming month, we set out to relax and take our time in the store.  We got there early and walked around the showroom.  We visited Our Home.  We took pictures of each other and imagined our life there.  Idly browsed the furniture and studied the photography on the walls (ours is at least comparable in composition).  Stopped in the cafe and had a small, stupidly cheap and surprisingly good breakfast.  Then went down to the marketplace and did our shopping.  We picked up frames and floor lamps.  We recognized how magical a time it was.  The drive home was horrendous as only I-95 between D.C. and Richmond on a Saturday can be, but once the strain of that horror bled away, the Magic of IKEA remained.

July 1, 2013.  New York City.  Our New Life.  Everything between now and then is preparation.