A Childhood Passion, Explored

It has been a while, blog, and while the subject of this next one might be a bit off-kilter, it is something I find rather...me about myself that I just can't withhold.

Growing up, I was a huge Weather Channel fan. I watched it all the time. In fact, as recently as a few months ago, the Evening Edition jingle from the 2003-05 years was my text tone. Their motto in the early 2000s "Live By It" was like a calling. Weather was life no matter what.

I watched what was channel 32, which then turned to channel 53, every night. It was very much like a companion every night at 9 when Evening Edition came on after Storm Stories (Speaking of Storm Stories, ever notice how every storm that ever happened in PA happened during that show? Always bothered me).

I was so obsessed with the channel that to this day I am searching for a song played on the Local on the 8s back from May of 2005. I still can't find it, even after combing online archives. Maybe someday.

Weather was my thing. I once wanted to be a broadcast meteorologist, and I surrounded myself with facts about weather, specifics on what made a severe thunderstorm a severe thunderstorm (I still know that to this day) as well as the Fujita Scale (now Enhanced Fujita because go progress) and the Saffir-Simpson Scale.

My 8th grade science teacher, Mrs. Greshock, had so much faith in me becoming a top meteorologist. Penn State is where I wanted to go, and weather was going to be my life. I received an exception at the age of 14 to earn the right to become a trained spotter for the National Weather Service (techincally, still am), recorded a video during an Earthwatch expo courtesy of NBC 10 (I wore yellow on-air...now I know, a no-no), I toured Mount Holly NJ's National Weather Service office...

I just surrounded myself with something I found ever so fascinating—and fear-inducing.

That brings me back to The Weather Channel. During a rather historic 2005 hurricane season, and on a trip out west, I was glued to TWC's coverage rather than go to the hotel pool or enjoy something else. I wanted to know what was happening. I wanted to learn.

Hurricane coverage always fascinated me. I want to be out there, I thought. I want to be helping people, bringing them what it would be like to be out there.

During the tornado outbreak of 2003, I spent all night watching TWC. Dr. Greg Forbes was like a hero. I then learned how to spot a hook echo, or to use the velocity signatures on a Doppler Radar to show rotation. I always listened to him to learn something new. I always did.

Any time I saw "strong storms" in the forecast, I worried like crazy. Cold fronts coming through the mid-Atlantic were very regular. How was young me supposed to figure that out? I heard of tornado outbreaks, hurricanes...I wanted to know about what I feared. I went from fearing weather to respecting its sheer power. Every storm that goes through gets me amped, even to this day.

I thought it was the coolest thing ever that the local forecast changed from speechless to actually speaking to you. The day that was as much as previewed, I kept TWC on my TV for hours. I remember that day specifically.

As I mentioned before, this channel was like a companion. The Weather Channel was like a good friend. I always liked turning on my TV at 9 to find Paul Goodloe and Jennifer Lopez on my TV. It was regular. It felt like home.

Surprisingly, I can say now that I hate that channel with every fiber of my being. What have you become, old friend?

First, after being acquired by NBC, and then in turn, Comcast, the channel just went straight up to hell. Graphics changed. Personnel changed. The jingles changed. I tried to stay faithful, but it felt more like a news program. They got away from what made it so special. Especially after tangling with NBC, they shoved politics and other such nonsense down my throat.

I tuned in to watch TWC for the weather. That's what's in the title.

TWC went through another major overhaul as of a few days ago. One look at it was childhood crushing. The bottom scroll went from simple text and icons to a running scroll of weather headlines, new indecipherable graphics and an entirely new font. On TWC's HD channel, a right side panel is fraught with clutter. Air travel statistics from all around the nation ubiquitously assault you.

The local forecast went from welcoming and regular to a Windows 8 ripoff. It wastes two seconds trying to be clever with a greeting. Radar maps look like a four year old scribbled it on white canvas. The song is the same every time. The graphics look like that same child drew them. It's awful.

If they took away the severe weather beeping for warnings, I will flip a lid.

And what is this Prospectors show crap? There's no overnight weather show on TWC like Overnight Outlook anymore. It's filled with some half-hearted dramas. Storm Stories was captivating. Coast Guard: Alaska? Heavy Metal Monsters? Get that crap off my Weather Channel. You're telling me there's no meteorological input for the late-nighters? I'm sure Comcast has enough money to pay someone to do it. I'd do it.

People watch the channel to figure out what to prepare. That's what I hope to find when I turn it on in the rare event I do nowadays. I never find it.

Yeah, there may be an app for that, but nothing replaces what that channel used to stand for.

Did I quit the weather aspirations because of this channel's decline? No. Trigonometry was the only final I ever failed in my school days, and I figured I couldn't touch calculus if math felt like a chore. I remember the director of the Mount Holly office saying math would become your life. I didn't want that anymore.

But it would not be hyperbole to say that watching the new version of The Weather Channel was like watching your childhood passion get crushed under the boot of change. Of ubiquity. Of corporate pandering. It just sucks.

I'm guilty of nostalgia, but I'm not guilty of feeling this way. I want TWC to come back to the way it was. I miss the old times where I thought "ABE" on the radar was us (it wasn't) on the old orange and blue local forecast. I miss knowing the forecast daily. I miss not freaking out about snowstorm forecasts. I miss loving weather.

Mostly, I miss the channel that inspired it all before it all went to hell. Maybe someday it will come back...

Review

I feel like I haven't enjoyed life throughout my entire time here on this planet. There hasn't been a moment, good, bad or otherwise, that said that I needed to enjoy where I was.

Yeah, vacations were enjoyable and moments were fleeting, but it all ended up coming to a close at some point. As the saying goes, all good things must come to an end.

I'm currently in the Outer Banks in North Carolina. I'm sitting on a deck chair, alone, feeling the crisp breeze and listening to the crashing waves just 1,000 feet away. Life is good right now.

Could it be better? Absolutely. I wish I could not worry about my student loans, be making a decent living and be ready to take on the world. None of that is happening, nor guaranteed, but man, I'm enjoying life lately. It feels good to be alive.

Life is an arduous journey. It started easy, but it took an unprecedented slant into outright absurdly difficult. While the learner's curve hasn't diminished much, life is still good. I'm in a position doing what I want to in life, being around people I want to be around, and having a clear focus of where I want to go.

That's a good thing for now. One night, while feeling uncertain, I turned to music. I turned to an inspiration. I listened to Anberlin's "Unwinding Cable Car." Essentially, the song points to enjoying the moment and where we stand right now, as opposed to worrying where we're going to go. That will work itself out.

I turned to the people who inspire me. Even ones I have only been around for mere days of my life. They have done extraordinary things to push me in the right direction and keep me going, even when it felt like it was time to quit.

There's something so fascinating about our world right now that keeps me ticking. It might be the most revolutionary change since the Industrial one. That revolution changed ethics, technology, and the widespread dissemination of information forever. What does this revolution in the last ten years sound like? Except this time, it's on a global scale, fraught with increasing demands and unsolved solutions.

Every day brings us something interesting. That's what keeps me going. What new interesting thing will need a voice? What new problem might need the people's solution? I want to be a part of that solution. I want to be that voice that breaks some sort of barrier.

I'm taking life in, and I want to make a difference. I've been told before that life doesn't need difference makers. It merely needs people who will listen and do as they are told. I don't believe that. Never will. What's the point in going through life without trying something? The reason I'm here, doing what I do, is because I had an idea.

A good friend of mine started a blog not long ago. He said never to give up dreaming, because without a dream, you're done. He had chatted with someone who said to give up on the naive notion. But he keeps going. He is a beacon of his own self truth. That truth is positive. He inspired me to continue to keep going.

The breeze continues to blow, and the waves continue to crash, but the sun has set since I started writing. My life is ahead of me, even as the day has run its course. What I do starting in just a month's time will mean a lot towards my future. Whether it's here, or it's anywhere else, I will do something. I will be something.

I will stay true to what I say I am. I am a Beacon of my own Self Truth. That truth is making a difference.

Routine

There are the little things in life that fascinate me. Just the simple things I have developed over the years that I can't break free from.

Funny how this train of thought started because of the weather. I had remembered just how predictable weather is in the Mid-Atlantic. It's cold from November until March with nor'easters packed with snow, rain, and a lot of clouds and wind. Once April comes around until September, the temperatures rapidly rise, and then the cold fronts come from the west, bringing squall line after squall line of strong thunderstorms. October begins that transition period into the cold, and it begins again.

For almost 23 years now I have experienced this cycle. Part of me never wants to leave it because it seems so familiar. Once April comes around, it's like an old friend has graced me with their presence. The warmth is so inviting. Life hits the restart button.

Every season has a feeling...a particular memory style to go with it. I wouldn't say a specific memory, but an associated feeling...something that I have done every single year at this time. The feeling of air conditioning after a hot day...the rush of tracking a thunderstorm rolling in...playing games as I put off schoolwork...hanging out with the same friends, doing the same things...it's all so familiar.

I remember writing about how much I'll miss it once my life moves along, and yeah, I definitely will. There's a routine about Pennsylvania that is so familiar that it will be heartbreaking to leave it. Most of my close family is rooted here. This is where they are. My destiny might not be here, but elsewhere. I'll have to meet this new routine "friend" with open arms.

I've seen friends move away and have to deal with an entirely different set of circumstances. They probably don't think of it like this, and that's fine. They don't have to. Me, for whatever reason...I have to. That's just part of the experience of being me, I guess.

As the flowers bloom, my inspiration follows. It goes cold with the weather. A newfound confidence arises as everything changes. Perhaps the 11 months of seeming failure was meant to happen. Perhaps the rebirth of life around me means the rebirth of my life into something meaningful. Perhaps that's just the way it is.

I'll enjoy every day. It's all a matter of a routine.

Two Sides of the Same Coin

Last month, I saw a journey come to an end after a lopsided loss in the final game of the year—the same result as the year prior, driving the dagger deep. My career as their voice came to an end.

Last week, I saw a basketball team's hopes shattered by a one-in-a-million buzzer beating shot. Two of the best players in the history of the school's careers abruptly ended within a fleeting moment. Just a measly eight-tenths of a second could have changed that history forever.

This weekend, I saw the crowning achievement of the game of baseball. A perfect game. One of the few ever thrown in history. Truly a special moment to see the team celebrate in a moment of flawlessness.

Saturday ripped my heart out.

The Seton Hill women's lacrosse team hopped on a bus this dreary morning, headed for Millersville University. The bus lost control on the turnpike near Carlisle, smashing through a guard rail, slamming into a tree, killing the bus driver, and the head coach, Kristina Quigley, six months pregnant with a baby boy. She left behind her husband and a young child.

As heartbreaking as losing in the final moment and winning in dominating fashion twice over, the loss of life means so much more than both of these things. I've seen heartbreak. I've seen championships won and lost and careers end in the process. And as the end of the HBO show "Rangers/Flyers 24/7" eloquently told us, never say to an athlete that it's just a game.

In the end, it is. As my broadcast partner at the Marauder Sports Broadcasting Network tweeted today, "It's sadly stories like this that put sports in perspective." Truly.

Whoever wins or loses in the end may mean a lot in the perspective of a season, or individual achievement. However, the loss of life affects us all, especially the carrier of new life.

Sports provide us an escape. We never want that reality to seep into its hallowed halls. We want to celebrate the journey away from adversity to succeed on the court, the ice, the field, whatever have you. We never want to mourn death in sports, especially one so tragic, and one so seemingly unnecessary as today's one happened to be.

It hits so close to home for a few reasons. I travel to games all the time and never expect my next game to be potentially my last. While with Millersville Hockey, I sat towards the front of the bus...right in the line of fire if that kind of accident happened to us. I can't fret about this, because travel must happen, and the show must go on, no matter what may happen.

It's two sides of the same coin. There's a bright side of victory, success, achievement, and the finish line. There's the dark side of defeat, heartbreak, frustration, and sadly...reality.

It will be a painful healing process for community of Seton Hill. They will come together to celebrate Quigley's life on Sunday and pray for the loss of a coach...a teammate...a friend...a mother...and a wife.

I'm reminded over and over again to do my best, no matter what capacity I find myself in. Perhaps I haven't truly lived enough, or found myself in a critical situation to know how scary this must be. I will continue to live on and do my profession to the highest quality to make the most of this life.

Sports will give and take, just like life. Perhaps it's honorable for it to be so organic.

Rest in peace, Kristie Quigley.

Stagnant

I'm having perhaps the biggest doubts in my life on the heels of happenings around me. I find myself stuck in a stagnant life pattern that feels so wasteful. Here I am, trying to be proactive as possible to find something, anything to become my new life...to no avail. I'm stuck in an old lifestyle that I want to break out of immediately.

While a childish sentiment, I want a new adventure. I want to meet new people, experience new things, realize that what I've been told isn't exactly right. I want to know I can make a real difference somewhere. Sitting at home isn't doing anything remotely close enough to satiate this hunger.

I've wanted to be an example for people. I wanted to show that if you had no experience in something, and your personality completely clashed with your line of work, you could find a way and make it work. Right now, I'm failing miserably and failing the people I wanted to show. The worst part is, the people I wanted to prove this to don't even know that's my intention.

I've repeatedly said I'm okay with the small time right now. I'll never complain about that. I don't know my viewer or listener numbers, and frankly, that doesn't matter to me. But I don't want to be a failure story. I worked too hard to become a failure story. I didn't live "the college lifestyle" of constant partying and hanging out with friends 24/7. I worked to attain cum laude status and become a multi award-winning college broadcaster. I worked hard.

I know I'm doing something right. But I'm also doing something really wrong, too. I keep telling people of my tribulations, and I end up with suggestions that just don't speak to me, or make sense. You should become a DJ. Where? Why? You should become an editor. With what advanced skills? Many can beat me with editing prowess. You should write. Where? And how? I'm not a classically trained reporter. I just know how to write.

Something needs to change. I need a big break. I might have just achieved one, but it's not for sure. If that doesn't fall through, I'm stuck for months looking for work. More nights of accomplishing nothing. I'm wasting away in a stagnant lifestyle that I'm getting way too sick of. Going to bed very late, waking up late, working on nothing all day every day until the weekends, when I work. I look forward to weekends for the complete opposite reason.

Maybe soon there will be change. But until then, I feel uninspired. I feel so blasé. I don't want to keep wasting my life and becoming a failure.