January 7

Last night, the cast for the twentieth season of Survivor was revealed. The title for the milestone season is "Heroes vs. Villains" and it includes ten contestants that viewers have loved to root for and ten contestants that viewers have loved to root against.

As an avid Survivor fan, I'm excited to see the new season, which premiers on February 11, but I'm also a little disappointed. Why would a fan of the show be excited to see some of the best players throughout the years return for an all-out battle for the one million dollar prize? Because last week I sent in my application and video (click here to see my audition video) to the producers marking my eighth time applying to the show. As fun as it will be to watch these "all-star" players, it means that my last application was a waste because there weren't any new applicants accepted to the Survivor family.

As many of you probably already know, I apply after every season ends and have been for quite a while. I've gone to four open casting calls where twice I pulled an all-nighter to get a good position in line and sent in my application via the postal service another four times. For one of my auditions, I shaved my chest so producers could more clearly see my name when I took my shirt off for the camera. I wanted to take my pants off too and stand there in just my boxers, but the way the line wrapped around the audition area, the casting people wouldn't let me do it. I've brought in props and even spoken in the third person as two different characters to try and get myself some extra attention and notice. But to this day, I still haven't even gotten a single call back.

Not only am I an die-hard fan of the show and have been trying to get on it since turning 21, I've themed my residence halls after the show when I was a Resident Advisor in college. I made arrangements every Thursday to get the night off of work so I could drive to a friend's house to watch it when I didn't have cable. I don't have cable now, but I still go to extreme lengths to see the show without spoiling the end result for me. I used to have my mom go to the CBS website, load the video on her screen, and email a copy of the link to me so I wouldn't have to see who was kicked off upon opening the CBS homepage.

I've seen every episode except, ironically, the first season. I did, however, read the book that executive producer Mark Burnett wrote upon completion of that first year in Borneo and the season is in my Netflix queue. Every year, my mom purchases a Christmas ornament for my sister and me and this year she gave me an awesome Survivor ornament that plays the theme song. At one point, my sister had the song play on her phone as my personal ringtone when I called her. During the last "All-Stars" edition of the show, I actually teared up during the opening credits and I'm sure this season will be no exception.

People always tell me how great I would be on the show, but I honestly don't think I would last very long at all. I think my only redeeming quality would be good television. On every application, one of the questions asks which previous castaway could I relate to the most. I have a few things in common with a few different ones, but overall, I believe I stand alone. I don't think there are any players that would be as zany and physically entertaining as I would be. I've never seen anyone break into a random song for the pure enjoyment of the other castaways. I think that being with someone like myself for twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week could really wear on someone's patience which is why I don't think I would last very long.

I don't want to be on the show for the prize money. Don't get me wrong, I would LOVE to be in possession of that sum, but it's not my prime objective for wanting to be on the show. I want to see everything that isn't shown to the audience by the producers. Do the castaways just sit there for hours on end with nothing to do? Are they really stripped from any type of luxury like toothbrushes and a place to make a bowel movement? I want to see what kind of mental toll the show would take on me. I'm already a skinny guy, but what would I look like after being out there for thirty days on a diet of rice and mangoes? And the challenges! The challenges look like so much fun. Is it really that hard to run across a rope platform?

On February 11, I will be as giddy as a school girl for the new season, but seeing some of these contestants for a third time on a show that I've been trying to get on for over five years is frustrating. All I can do is hope that the producers will keep coming up with fresh ideas to keep the show from repeating itself so the audience doesn't lose interest. As long as the show keeps going, I will keep applying.

January 6

"Sometimes I wish I could just get up and go." How many times have we heard this or said it ourselves? "I just want to drop everything and move to a new city. I'll make new friends and just start over." Not many people do it and they always wonder what would have been. I, on the other hand, did it three months ago and I'm really starting to regret my decision.

On December 26, 2008, I received an email offering me a position as video scout intern with a baseball statistics company located on the other side of the country. At the time, I was waiting tables and I was miserable. I thought a career in the baseball industry was what I wanted, so I put everything I had in storage and drove across the country to watch baseball every day for the 2009 season.

I had the time of my life this past summer, but I also realized that it wasn't necessarily the direction in life that I wanted to take. Some would look at this recognition as a good thing. I suppose now I could turn my attention in a new direction, but baseball was the only thing that I thought I wanted to do. Now I was back to square one without a clue as to what to do.

The internship was over, all of my belongings were in storage and I had the freedom to go wherever I wanted. I chose Austin, Texas. Why Austin? I didn't know anyone there and I had never even been there! The only reason that the idea of Austin arose in my mind was because I had heard on a radio program a while back that it was one of the best places in the country to live if you were single. "Great," I thought. "I'm single, getting older, and I would love to meet someone. What better place than Austin?"

The problem was that I'm not very good at being single. Even though I've been single for twenty-four of my twenty-six years of living, I really suck at it. I'm not the type of person to go out and just hook up with girls. I can't even approach a girl when I'm out because all I can think of is how unoriginal it would be for me to talk to her. That's what guys do. They approach women they are interested in and girls know it. I can't imagine how my approach would be any better than the last guy's, so I rarely do it.

Now I'm in Austin and I'm waiting tables. I'm doing the same thing I could be doing in California where I have friends and family. I've met a few people while here, but it's not the same. It just feels temporary. I'm from California. A part of me keeps telling me that anyone I meet here is just someone that I will be saying goodbye to down the line which is a depressing and lonely thought in itself.

Today is my dad's birthday and he and my mom are in the mountains with my dog. This is a trip that we've gone on every January for as long as I can remember and it's one more tradition that I've had to throw away in the last year because of my absence.

I congratulate and applaud anyone with the bravery to go to a new city on a whim. It's a risk that not many people ever take. It was exciting for me to go through with it, but I'm too close with my family to have done it. I need to see my parents, my sister, and even my dog more than once a year.

January 5

One of the things I hate spending a lot of money on is a haircut. I can't get around the idea of allotting any more than twenty dollars at most every month and a half on getting my hair cut when it's just going to grow right back again.

Because of this cheap and immature attitude, I've had bad haircuts for most of my life. I usually go to Supercuts where I try to explain what I think I want my hair to look like. When I lived in California, not only did I have to try clarify how I wanted to look, but I had to try and work around an English/Spanish language barrier. "I want it short around the sides and the back and a little bit longer up top so I can spike it or give it a 'messy' look...I don't know what number I want on the clippers - four? I don't want it too short. Do you understand? No, I said I don't want it real short." Usually at this point I would just give up and hope for the best.

I always felt like my hair looked its best about three weeks after getting it cut. I would have about a week of good looking hair and then I felt like it was time for a trim and I was back at square one where I couldn't remember what number I wanted.

After having my own thoughts about how bad my hair has been looking lately indirectly reaffirmed by a friend last night, I decided it was time for a step away from Supercuts. I made the decision to bite the bullet go into a place that I thought looked nice from the street and go from there. What was the worst that could happen? I would have a haircut that I didn't like? I was going to have that anyway!

The new place was Floyd's Barbershop. I had never heard of it, but liked the name and the logo on the side of the building. Upon entering, I expected to find three chairs at most in front of a mirror with a few older men waiting for their turn while reading the morning paper. If I was lucky, a sporting event would be broadcast on an old television set hanging in the corner. I would walk in to the sound of a pleasant jingle on the door caused by my entrance. A balding man with glasses and dressed in white would look towards the door mid-cut, smile and say, "Hello, young man. It will be just a few minutes. Feel free to have a seat."

What I got instead, was a huge room with about fifteen chairs along one side of the wall; a wall plastered with pictures of popular culture icons ranging from Elvis to Michael Jackson to Rage Against the Machine. Behind a central desk facing the front door sat a girl in her late twenties with dark, pixie-cut hair, a nose piercing, and tattoos reaching out of her collar and up her neck.

After being escorted to an empty chair by one of the stylists (also punk-esque), I tried to explain what I wanted done to my hair. She sat there with a blank look on her face and didn't really give me any sign that she had any clue what I wanted. Finally, she nodded and started clipping, snipping, and trimming away. Here we go again, I thought.

Just when I thought I was done, she turned around and produced a large white towel with steam coming off of it. She folded it once and wrapped it around the back of my head and tied it across my face. I have to admit, it felt pretty good, but I was concerned that I had stumbled into a pretty expensive routine. The stylist then removed the towel, applied shaving cream to the back of my neck and actually gave me an old fashioned shave and a back massage!

I haven't actually styled my hair myself yet after this adventure, but I'm anxious to see how it turns out. The experience ended up costing me more than I'm used to paying, but I didn't have that usual immediate regret I receive when I looked at myself in my rear-view mirror on the drive home, so maybe it was worth it.

January 4

Maybe you've already figured it out, but my New Year's Resolution was/is to write one blog entry a day for an entire year. I've gotten three days out of the way without a hiccup...except that I turned my first one in at one o'clock on the morning of January 2nd, but I digress.

Other than that, I've done okay, right? I wrote a story about a funny encounter I had with a fellow movie goer on the first day. My second post was about my concerns with sharing too much information with my parents. Yesterday I gave you a list that everyone should keep in mind when attending a movie. January 4th, here I come! Except that I've already run out of topics to write about.

Here's the problem I have about blogging: It's too easy to turn it into a journal entry. I don't think a blog should be a piece of writing describing one's personal thoughts. I believe it should be about observations made on a day to day basis. Let me explain.

I don't want this blog to turn into me talking about what a crappy night I had at work or how I can't stand working with a particular person. I'm sure those would make pretty entertaining articles to read because once I get started on someone, I don't let up. But seeing as how I post a link to each of my blogs on my Facebook, there isn't any hiding. The last thing I want is to go into work the day after a post and have to face someone that may or may not have read a piece where I tore him or her a new one.

Sure, I could change names, but you can't change entire stories and have it be an authentic retelling of what happened. So now I'm stuck with searching for things to write about when I wanted this blog to just be a free form of expression for me. I don't want this to turn into a chore for me, but seeing as how I've already run out of material to write about and I'm only on the fourth day, it's going to be a long year.

January 3

Oscar season is among us. This year is different from the past because there are five more vacancies in the Best Picture race and studios will be campaigning harder than ever to get their picture into consideration for the coveted gold statue. This is an exciting time of year for me because of my love for movies. I only wish I didn't have to go to the theatre to see the contenders.

Attending a movie is getting to be a real pain in the ass because of people's lack of self-awareness. Movie patrons are getting more and more oblivious to anyone around them and it really gets on my nerves. They don't realize that they didn't buy a ticket to a show to themselves, but purchased a ticket to share a film with an audience. They bought themselves an invitation to be a part of a group to experience a movie with.

Here is a list of things to keep in mind on your next visit:

• Turn your cell phone off and not to vibrate. The buzz is just as irritating as the ringtone and you won't be tempted to see who just called you or sent you a text message.
• Don't text. Even though it's a quiet act, the light that emits from the screen is just as loud and distracting as the sound a call can make.
• A candy wrapper and popcorn munching is audible and everyone in the theatre can hear it so chew with your mouth shut and don't play with that bag of Skittles. Just eat them.
  
• If you want to talk about the movie, wait until the end and discuss it later. I would be willing to bet that whatever question you have will be answered within the next two hours.
  
• If you have kids, don't take them to a film intended for adults.
• If your baby starts crying, it's not going to stop right away. Take this as a sign to take the kid out of the room and not just into the hallway leading out of the theatre.
  
• Don't let your kids run around or put their feet on the seats in front of them.
  
• In fact, don't take your kids to the theatre at all.
  
• Please show up on time. It will save you the embarrassment of having to yell blindly in search of your friends and it's easier to find a seat in the light. Plus, it's really annoying when I'm trying to focus on the film and you're standing there like an idiot in the corner of my eye.
  
• Just because you can see the screen, doesn't mean the person behind you can too. Sit down!
• If you've seen the movie before, don't tell us to watch the next part. We're THERE to watch the next part!
• Do you know this funny line from the trailer? Keep it to yourself.
• If you can't remember the actor's name or what else he has been in, go to IMDB when you get home. Don't ask your partner.
• Just because I'm not sitting directly in front of you, doesn't mean I want your nasty shoe right next to my face for the duration of the movie.
• SHUT UP!

Now, I know none of you do any of these things. It's always someone else that does them. But if we all practice these things, going to the movies can and will be more enjoyable for everyone.

January 2

I don't know how your parents were when you were growing up, but mine were very open and straightforward with me about pretty much everything. They used to insist that I could ask and/or tell them anything. (The only exception to this promise, I found, was when I learned what oral sex was. Apparently that crossed into some territory that my folks weren't very keen on answering.) My dad would emphasize that he wanted me to learn from them and not from the kids on the playground. I guess he thought that there was a lot of information lost in translation from one kid's parent to another kid at recess so he wanted me to get whatever information I was looking for straight from the horse's mouth.

Somewhere along the lines of "you can tell us anything" to now, I started telling my parents everything. I have told my parents every minor detail of my life for as long as I can remember with the exception of one event; and it just so happened to involve a girl. Even then, I've come close to disclosing that fateful night on many occasions.

Just a few weeks ago, I told my parents that I had recently tried marijuana. We had just finished setting up my new apartment and they were about to leave for the 2,000-mile drive back to San Diego when we were having a conversation in my living room. One thing led to another and the next thing I knew, I was telling them how much an eighth usually sells for and where I could get it. I was describing how to hold a bowl and proper inhaling techniques.

It always feels so relieving to get information that I've withheld from them off of my chest, but it brings into question, "Where do I draw the line?" It's not like I'm on the phone as soon as something new enters my life. The pot is a perfect example. I think I first did it in June and I didn't reveal my secret until November. I have that level of comfort with them when I'm with them that everything just pours out of me.

I don't really know what my point with this is, but it makes me wonder how different this open line of communication is from other guys my age. I know that I share more information with my parents than most people, but I want to know where the average guy my age stops with the information voluntarily given to his parents. Is my relationship a luxury that others wished they possessed or is it a sign of an extremely immature mamma's boy?

January 1

I go to the movies pretty often. I guess I'm what you would call, a "movie buff." I subscribe to Entertainment Weekly and look forward to reading the reviews of the recently released films each week.

I've witnessed a lot of strange and unusual things throughout the years in the theatres, but today's event is up there with the best.

It was during a showing of Avatar. I went by myself and sat two seats to the left of the center-most guest in the auditorium. About a half an hour into the film, a heavyset man sat one seat to my left. (This means there was one seat in between us.)

Throughout the two and a half hour movie, the man to my left started slouching more and more towards my direction. With about a half hour left of the movie, I shifted my weight and felt something against my left thigh. I assumed it was the pen in my pocket that I always carry so I reached down into the dark to adjust it. What I felt when I grabbed the object was far softer and colder than a pen against my body. I squeezed it and tried to pick it up but it wouldn't come. When I looked down, a human hand had found it's way across a seat and under an armrest.

Startled and embarrassed I released my grip and pulled back my arm in haste. As I started to laugh uncontrollably to myself, I looked over at the man stretched out across the row to find that he was oblivious to the fact due to his mid-movie nap.