Linsane in the Membrane (Linsane in the Brain)

from Forbes.com

If you're a sports fan, you've heard of Jeremy Lin at least once or 100 times in the last week. The kid was cut from two previous teams and undrafted in the NBA to become this week's hottest thing. And while I don't want to underplay his accomplishments, I'm fairly certain that this will end up poorly.

For those of you NOT in the know, Jeremy Lin got the opportunity with two Knicks starters (Carmelo Anthony and Amare Stoudemire) were out. He played significant minutes and started on a team that was circling the drain. In those starts, he ended up scoring the most points of anyone in the their first 5 starts in the NBA ever. More than all the great ones--Bird, Magic, Jordan, Kobe, all of them. And what's more is the Knicks haven't lost since he started starting. Also, he's two things that are unique to the NBA: an Ivy Leaguer (graduated and played at Harvard) and Taiwanese American.

I love a good underdog story. I mean I LOVE them. It's probably why I can never resist watching Remember the Titans when I see it's on TV or why I have cried while watching Secretariat. In fact, I may go so far as to say that my affinity for sports stemmed from my affinity to see those with no hope of winning, do so.

But here's where things get tricky on the Jeremy Lin situation, I fear that much like things that happen in New York or LA this coverage has gotten out of hand. Had Jeremy Lin played for the Pacers, there would be some notice, but not near the amount he's gotten in the Big Apple. And even if he turns out to be a Steve Nash-like point guard (which is not nearly a given only 7 games into his career), there can be no measure other than a championship that would live up to the kind of hype this kid has gotten in the last week. Yes, we have only really known Jeremy Lin for a week. Unless you're this guy and saw this coming.

My favorite tweet on this is from @kevinkoski that read: 

If Jeremy Lin dunked on Lebron in a Yankees cap, and then celebrated by Tebowing in front of Brett Favre, would ESPN explode?

Sadly, I think the answer is yes. But I hope for Lin's sake, the media can give this guy some room to breathe (although it might be too late).

Because we remember where we were

I remember my mom and dad talking about where they were when they heard that President Kennedy had been shot. I remember people telling me again and again how important it was and how everyone could remember that moment in history. I also remember a history teacher telling me he kind of felt sad that our generation hadn't had that moment.

Of course ten years ago today that moment actually came and I can't say that I feel all that better for it. It's nice to remember where you were for something (and I actually remember where I was when the Challenger blew up-take that old history teacher), but let's face it: if you and multitudes of other people --or even a whole country-- remember where they were when something happened, it probably wasn't a good thing that happened. It was probably catastrophic.

Here's where I was when the towers went down: in my first apartment that was all my own. I had just moved to Nashville two weeks before and was about 3 weeks into my job at the American Heart Association. I was listening to my giant boombox--specifically listening to the Bob & Tom Show because it made me feel like I was connected to Indiana. Kristi Lee came on and said that a plane had flown into one of the World Trade Center towers and then Tom came back on a few minutes later to tell the audience about the other tower.

What happened next for me and most Americans that weren't in New York or Washington DC was a lot of confusion. Hours of who did this? What happened? Why would someone do this? How many more sites were up for grabs? What would happen to other plans in the air? Could you imagine being in the air and finding out this news?

Clearly time unfolded the answers to those questions but one thing remains certain: If you and a collective nation all remember where you were for a moment, chances are good that something horrible happened. For that reason, I hope that the generation born after 2001 never remember where they were when. . . at least for a really long time.

My Time in Manhattan

Now this is more like it. I'm here for a work function tonight and got in yesterday. It's a completely different change of pace from New Brunswick, but New York is a completely different change of pace from most places.

Because I spent a lot of yesterday morning and Tuesday catching up, I felt pretty good about leaving in the afternoon to do some exploring. I mean, spending a 3 day weekend in Canada working a booth should buy me some goodwill for signing off an hour early yesterday.

I'm in Manhattan and to be honest the last time I was here both the World Trade Center and my mother were still standing, so that should tell you something. I might've changed a little in that time, too.

I went to one store specifically because I knew there was something that I wanted to get Chef. (He turns 30 tomorrow. Hard to believe because with that baby face he still looks about 18). I went, I saw, I bought, I conquered. I then decided it would be fun to try and walk back. In some red patent wedges. Not the best idea I've ever had, but I made it without having to amputate anything so SUCCESS!

I was just a few steps on my journey when a gaggle of gay men started pointed and looking at me. I instantly thought I was either in front of someone they knew or my mascara had officially melted in the heat and was running down my face. Turns out the answer was neither of those. One of the gaggle broke himself off and said "Where do you get your hair done?". Actually the first thing he said as he came jutting towards me was "Dont' worry I'm not going to steal your little XXX(store name here hidden for Chef's torture) bag." Then he asked about my hair.

"LA," I said.

"How long are you here for?," he asked. The gaggle exchanged nervous glances behind him.

"Two days," I said.

"Shit. Sorry, girl. I'm doing a fashion thing this weekend and just think your whole look is fierce," he said. "Would have loved to have had you."

"Thanks?" I reply and walk off with a little jaunt in my step (that only lasted three blocks before I realized the jaunt was unnecessarily adding pain to my feet. I can do 1-2 miles in those things before they hurt--after that, my tootsies are toast.)

After that encounter, the rest of my experience was pretty mundane. I saw Rockefeller Center (and desperately looked for Liz Lemon--to no avail), St. Patrick's Cathedral (which made me miss Chef although not for the religious connotation), Time's Square, Herald's Square and the Fashion District. Then I did a whore's bath (as it so happens yesterday was the hottest day thus far in NYC at 90 degrees), and walked to a nice Italian restaurant for dinner. I'm glad I walked, because I ate like tomorrow was judgement day. And it was delicious.

Today, i worked in the morning then rolled out to walk to lunch with our freelancer and then walked back. Now I'm sitting here for another 30 minutes before I have to get ready for the event I'm helping with tonight. Then it's on a plane tomorrow for a low awaited reunion with Chef, the kitties and my own bed!

There are a few things I noticed about New York: 1) It's not nearly as intimidating as it was all those years ago. 2) Being here reminded of me of my first time when mom and Jack took me for a graduation trip and I inadvertently visited most of the places that we saw on that trip as well. 3) I prefer LA. I never in a million years would've thought that I'd say that, but damn, that weather is nice. And having grown up in the suburbs, the sprawl of LA -- "Los Angeles: Seventy-two suburbs in search of a city," said Dorothy Parker-- it just kind of hits home.

And I'm ready to get back there.