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What’s up everybody,

The site was down for awhile because of hosting problems but we’re back up and ready for action again!  Sorry for the inconvenience.

The GDFHT Team

Update

To all our faithful readers,

We apologize for the delay of our latest project, 3 Panes, which we know many of you have been waiting on for quite some time.  Things have been very busy recently and it’s been difficult with our increasingly busy schedules to work consistently enough to get things done quickly, but rest assured, we have been busting our asses to get you what’s good.  A lot restructuring and changes have been occurring and we promise you won’t be disappointed.  Stay sharp ya’ll.

The GDFHT Team

W 110-109 OT

Last night was a special night.  Not because it rained in LA.  Not because romance has entered this embarrassingly single life.  No shooting stars were spotted.  No elusive lottery was won.

Last night the Lakers grinded out an overtime thriller against the Celtics.  It wasn’t definitely wasn’t “showtime” but Los Angeles pulled off what sportswriters, critics, and announcers had all agreed upon: the impossible.

But it wasn’t my passion for the game that made last night so memorable.  Please, let me explain.

I’m not sure if you could call me a true fan.  I only started watching the Lakers because of my father.  Ba is a genuine sports aficionado–the legends and stories we talk about he experienced.  You should see how his eyes glaze over when he talks about Bill Russell or reminisces about Tyson’s glory days.  Ba was born a year before the second world war ended and spent the majority of his life in New York City.  That should tell you something about his contemporaries.  One day, not long after we moved to California, I found him settled on the sofa watching a Lakers game.  I nearly did a double-take; I knew my father was a die-hard Knicks fan.  Was he jumping ship?  No, he replied, first of all, we didn’t have cable anymore so he couldn’t watch any of his beloved NY teams play unless they were visiting the west coast.  My other reason, he confessed, is Kobe.  I’m not a Lakers fan, but watching him is like seeing poetry in motion. He jabbed a finger in my face, Mark my words: he’s going to be a legend.  This was before the 3-peat, before 81 in Toronto, before 61 in the Garden, before the MVP award, before the kid-the fro-the Mamba was making…history.

So I started watching as the Jordan comparisons grow.  I watched him singlehandedly outscore an entire team.  I watched #8 change to #24.  And slowly but surely my love the for the gold and purple grew.  You can call me a sellout but screw you, I don’t care cause I can’t help it.  I fell for the Lake-show and I fell hard.  I’ll always have a special place in my heart for my Knickerbockers but with all drama, terrible basketball, and finger pointing they became like the girl/boy you once loved but barely know anymore.  But let me return to my main point.

It’s no secret that I take Laker games very personally now.  A single “W” or “L” can make or break my night.  It’s a curious phenomenon if you really think about it.  I can’t very well describe the feeling, but if you’ve ever rooted for a team, you know exactly what I’m talking about.  They become your superhero and the court their greatest battleground.  And for the next 48 minutes of regulation they become the embodiment of your dreams for victory and success.  When they shine you shine, when they bleed you bleed.

Life hasn’t been easy for me lately.  Failure and rejection have been becoming increasingly familiar companions.  I’m a generally positive person–overly idealistic some say.  I have dreams and aspirations.  But nowadays it seems that with every step I take forward life drives me backwards three more.  There are mornings where I wake up in bed and just lie there, wondering if I’m only chasing pipe dreams.

A friend texted me at half time.  Lakers will lose tonight.  I didn’t bother responding.  It was the message I’d been hearing over and over ever since Bynum was injured.  Every time I turned on the TV, checked the internet, or turned on the radio there seemed to be another person predicting a crushing defeat for the short-handed Lakers.  Every comment just got me more depressed.  Maybe it was stupid to believe in what you wanted if it wasn’t realistic.  Maybe dreams were for rich people.  And lucky people.  Not normal people.  Normal like me.

Oddly enough the Lakers stayed within one or two shots of the Celtics nearly the entire game, but with less than five minutes left things started to unravel.  It was as if the bright lights of LA were finally getting extinguished by the cold, harsh realities of Boston.  Nightmares of the near-40pt bludgeoning the Lakers suffered at the hands of the Celtics last June were flashing in my mind.  I crumpled slightly in my chair, feeling defeated.  The Lakers valiantly fought back to come within 3 but doom seemed inevitable.

Kobe was at the 3pt line, staring down Paul Pierce.  He raised up and let the ball fly.  Swish.  I leapt to my feet.  Cold-blooded, Reggie Miller commented as the replay rolled, Only a cold-blooded killer like Kobe could stare you down and drain a 3 to tie the game.  I bit my lower lip and glanced around the room frantically like a cold-turkey crack fiend.  Maybe we can win.  Maybe they can do the impossible.

The game broke for a commercial and I found myself praying.  A little over the top?  Maybe.  It may sound ridiculous but at this point this game meant more to me than basketball.  God, please let them win, I pleaded.  Please show me the impossible is possible.  I want to believe we aren’t slaves to measured predictions and statistics.  I wanna believe that it ain’t over till the fat lady sings.  I want to believe that dreams can come true.  One minute thirty on the clock, Lakers down 2.  Kobe’s at 3pt line again, jab stepping.  He raises up.  Pierce’s hand is all but palming his face.  The ball cracks through the bottom of the net.  The Lakers lead by one.

You know how the rest goes.  LA beats Boston by one in overtime.  The underdogs triumph.  The naysayers tighten their jaws.  A lot of people in Vegas are weeping.  And a young man finds a glimmer of hope, maybe a tiny reason to dream.

The impossible is possible.  Never stop believing.  Maybe it won’t work out.

But maybe it will.

Removing My Planks

It’s a new year.  A new look.  Even a new president.  This year the ball dropped without me.  That is, without me noticing–probably the first time since I can remember.  I was working alone at home when the fireworks went off.  My sister was at a coworkers party.  My mother and brother were at their church.  My father was touring through eastern Europe.  2009 came with a whisper and left me no evidence of 2008’s swift parting.

Yesterday was the first day of the year of the Ox.   I saw no red bags, no sticky cakes–only a cold latte and an abnormally cool California evening.  I went “0″ for “2″ this year, so it’s ironic that  I’ve been thinking of New Years Resolutions.  I’m not exactly known for my memory and taking the time to make sweeping goals I might not remember by the time Christmas rolls around isn’t exactly my style.  But this year was different.  This year I wanted things to change.  They say you can’t teach an old dog new tricks.  Good thing I’m only twenty four.

I’ve been noticing more things about myself that I don’t like.  I like that.  Not because I’m some super introspective guy, but because that means I’m growing.  I can deal with the wrinkles, the failures, and the pains if i know can get smarter, kinder, wiser, more patient.  I hope I never get so deluded and puffed up that I can’t admit my wrongs and change myself.  So this new year I’m trying to be sure to make a periodic eye check–just in case I’ve missed any two by fours.

Chinese New Year 2009 in Bellagio’s Conservatory

5 Minutes

December 17, 2008

“The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious.”

-  Albert Einstein 

I didn’t agree with this the first time I saw it earlier this week.  It was on a calendar hung in the back of the bakery where I work at.   

Today was a different day though. It was raining and it actually made sense to me.  

It’s been a tough week, mentally and physically.  Mentally, because I’m having a hard time loving people these days.  Customers and people have been taking a toll on my patience and I confess my pride is so rampant.  It’s hard to love—seriously! I think a bit of hate is in me and the battle is what’s so difficult.  Physically, because the shifts have been long and the work has been demanding for the holidays.  Cookies, pies, cakes, packaging, serving, cleaning.  Still have a long week to go until Christmas when I’ll finally get to breathe.  For me December was never really a month to celebrate, but a month to prepare, to dread, and to work.  

Today something special happened though.  I love it when these special “things” happen.  It’s like a drop of residue from God to make my day, to taste and ponder about for weeks.  It’s when you fear God.  Not in the sense of bucking from him like I usually do—but that mad respect and awe you have, when something so amazing is right before your eyes.  

I took a quick break to stare out the front door of the shop.  It’s always refreshing to see what’s outside when you’ve been sweatin’ inside for so long.  I often watch for things that will make me catch my breath, things that you would want to take pictures of.   

Today I watched the rain fall, and for the next 5 minutes, my day was being made.

I can’t imagine how it must have been like, when it first rained on Adam, or better yet, when it first rained on me.  It must’ve been a complete mystery to see water fall out the sky, millions and millions of drops…out nowhere. It’s then you realize that everything changes.  Your clothes, the dirt, the asphalt, the buildings, all start to change colors.  The people, the cars, the pigeons, they all act and behave differently. Everything shifts.  Sounds you never heard and you can actually see the rhythm of the droplets. Puddles form rings, accurately reacting to every raindrop; light gets bounced, and there’s a subtle oscillation in the air.  Splashes, ripples, and streams—part of me just wished that there were no definition for it.  I wished that it remained a mystery, the phenomenon that it is.  I wished my eyes could only stay fresh to see.  But at the same time I thank God he revealed a piece to me for those five minutes while I tripped out like how I used to, except this time there was no THC involved.  

Time was up. I had to head back to the kitchen and get back to work. And there it was: that December 2008 calendar with the Einstein quote, sitting so smug I swear it was nodding at me. Damn, I thought to myself.  

 Bless the Lord O my soul, praise the Lord, because he is dope.

 Downtown, Los Angeles

Griffith Park View, Day after the rain.