There are very few world champions that really impress me and maybe that's attributable to my limited following of sports. 2 champs that are impressive are Kelly Slater of surfing fame and George St. Pierre of the mixed martial arts arena. These individuals have almost a superhuman knowledge in their respective sports that adds a level of advantage that one can argue is unmatched.

Getting back to the plan and with the consideration of their extensive knowledge, I understand the need to have a plan however, to what degree is a plan adequate? Is, "I am going to work really hard and be a world champ," a plan? How about - "I'm just gonna go in there and kick his ass?" Witnessing these 2 champions and discovering the degree to which they scrutinize every aspect, I don't think so. The saying, "Leave no stone unturned," comes to mind.

In interviews and articles with Kelly Slater, he is able to dissect a surf break to the tee. He speaks of winds, swell direction, tides, seasons, storms, the annual revenue of the Handi Mart across the street, and other factors that I would have never thought would play a role in the way a surf spot is breaking. And yet, he is no one-trick pony, that's for sure. He can relay this type of information on dozens of surf spots on each of the continents (in multiple universes). He also works with his board shapers and brings awkward looking boards to world class competitions like Pipeline Masters, that baffle his competitors, audience, and media. He considers who his competition is and how they surf (the mental aspect). Post competition (and subsequent win of the Pipeline Masters), when asked about his plan and why he did certain things, he may have well been speaking Greek. He had an plan comprehensive of factors that none of his competitors even considered, including being patient, counting waves, and etc.

GSP is no different. In a post fight interview, he spoke of wrestling with Penn in order to tighten up Penn's shoulder muscles (and removing Penn's boxing abilities), not grappling in order to avoid (Penn's) knees (to GSP's face), and ultimately breaking Penn down. GSP also praised Penn's reaction abilities stating that his reaction is at the top of the MMA world and that he is able to react before an opponent can finish an act. He spoke of the brain being a muscle that needs to reset and while Penn's ability to react is unrivaled, his ability to reset was slow. GSP played on this weakness by implementing fakes and then acting. I am no mixed martial arts expert nor am I a current practitioner but, I have never heard of these things before and obviously would not have considered them.

These athletes are exemplary in that they are amazing athletes with amazing talents, amazing knowledge, and truly amazing plans. Moral of the story? Plan and plan well. Congratulations to the 2 world champions in their recent victories.

A while back I wrote this blog as a reminder to myself to have faith during the hard times. Today, my challenges are different. They are new. They are tougher. Everyday, I find myself stretching the boundaries that encompass me. It's as if there is a constant friction on an overinflated balloon. At the same time, things are better. I have surrounded myself with positive people. We all have differences but, we are all going in the same direction and aiming for the same destination. I no longer find myself frustrated by suppression and progression surrounds me everyday, in some shape or form. I found it only fitting that I add this to solomish.

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From the first blare of my alarm clock, I KNEW it was going to be another questionable day. It was yet another holiday; another holiday in which "Massa" would have us work. It seemed as though there were no REAL holidays in Slaveryland.

My Monday began extra early to catch up on a few projects that I wasn't able to complete the Friday prior. Monday. Friday. Somewhere in between were 2 days of partying, relaxing, and unwinding that had been overcome by a multitude of alcohol consumption. Oh AND that's right, while many of my friends had more enjoyable plans for the night prior and for the day ahead, I had only one thing penciled in. Work.

With a full schedule, I managed to complete a plethora of reports laden by numbers, numbers, and more numbers; prepared the new executive assistant's PC; prepared another PC; ran a phone line; emailed various parties; bantered with several consultants; reminded a few others regarding projects; slayed the dragon; rescued the damsel in distress; and saved the world from utter destruction.

3 PM had rolled around and like the weekend that I had mysteriously misplaced, the day whoooshed by like a hurricane, uprooting everything in its path. From the corner of my office, my surfboard was beckoning me. Neglected since Saturday, it yearned to get into the water and sail the waves along with the other surfboards (that was a rather generous description of my poor surfing abilities). I could hardly contain my excitement as I clicked furiously through the gazillions of pages of the Internet to arrive at 2 sites in particular: surfnewsnetwork.com and surfline.com. I had already heard about the great weather that awaited me outside of hell (the office) from a coworker who had run the marathon in the morning. I could only fathom blue skies, moderate temperatures, subtle winds, and plethora of bikins adorning the beaches. Since noon, I had already made my decision to brave the hike down Diamond Head to the beach below.

And drum roll...... I never could stand the advertisements that made the various surf cameras available free of charge. And cut the drum roll.

I feverishly clicked camera after camera to see an unwelcome commonality. THERE WERE NO FRICKEN WAVES! It was a holiday, the weather was reportedly nice, the traffic nonexistent, the birds had decided to give my poor car a break, and the bosses were unusually nice to me (maybe it was that nasty email I sent on Friday). But, how in hell could there be no waves? Everything, from here on out was supposed to be clear sailing. My mind went into utter shock and did a complete 180 from anxious to depressed. I immediately pondered going home; donning my PJs; and crawling into bed, defeated and doing what I absolutely hated...... nothing. All productivity would come to a screeching halt and the universe would implode as scientifically predicted. I began thinking of every reason not to go. There would be no itsy bitsy teeny weeny yellow pokka dot bikinis; the water would be nasty and warm; the clouds would follow me from work all the way to the water; the crowd would be foul and unforgiving; my patience would be tested by the herds of beginners and longboards and beginners on longboards; the tide would be low; my skegs would do numerous reef checks; my feet would do numerous reef checks; someone would steal my slippers that I stashed in the bushes (again); I would fall down coming down the trail (again); I wouldn't find parking; and everything would be the opposite of what I had imagined. There would be no reason to go on; no reason for life; no meaning for anything, for kindness, chivalry, thoughtfulness, honesty, or any form of integrity.

Yet, something told me to go. Some power convinced me that everything deserves a chance. I decided to decline further reasoning and concentrate on my plan to get from hell to the water. I would grab my board, jump in my car, hit H1, take the 6th avenue cutoff, find a suitable parking by the lookouts, wax the board, switch to slippers and shorts, and trek my way to the water.

Today I would need no suit - there was little to no winds. Hmmm.... Ok. The crowd was as I had suspected - largely longboarders however, few in number. The waves weren't overpowering and looked manageable. The sky was blue and no clouds had followed me. I got to the water and made my way out. I turned around to see the girls in bikinis outnumbering the men (not in bikinis). The water was cool and refreshing, not skin piercing cold as I had known it to be the past few weeks. The water was also crisp and clear as I watched Kala, Moana, Uhu, and other variety of fish swim among their watery districts. In fact, it was so clear that an unfamiliar sight of divers' kuis littered the horizon. The sky was a soft light blue and the sun was positioned high enough that would allow me at least 2 hours of “me” time (then again, when is my time NOT about me – nyuk nyuk). I paddled out to the inside of the lineup, shy with my late attendance and a funny thing happened.

Things began to turn around. I found myself positioned well on majority of the larger waves. Muscle memory was beginning to take charge of my surfing and I felt more relaxed. As the crowd swayed back and forth chasing the sets, I kept position and sat myself in front of the landmark I had become familiar with. The rising sets would creep in and I found myself alone. The crowd would invade my secret spot while I paddled back out, only to be met with water reminiscent of a lake. I noticed that my body position was a little more forward and a lot more comfortable on my (short)board. I kicked a lot less and paddled a lot more. I felt at ease even after overhearing another surfer speaking about a small shark he had seen thrashing around on the inside. I caught a few smooth waves and weaved in and out of the crowd as they watched. My time in the water, while not enough, seemingly was paying off. I surfed and surfed and watched the sky turn from baby blue to purple to orange to crimson. I watched the sun drop to the horizon, reminding me to return home.

My last wave rolled in and from afar looked to be a powerless one. Surprisingly, it took me a great ways in. On the inside, the water was calm and would afford me an easy paddle in and in no time, I was at shore. I walked the beach and while everyone seemed to be winding down the day, I could see only happy, relaxed, and grateful smiles (and bikinis).

As I scavenged through the bushes for my footwear, someone called from behind me, "Hi."

I turned and to my surprise 2 (hott) girls were beckoning for my attention. Whoa... The one in the black top smiled as I analyzed her emerald green eyes. She looked no older than 25, about 110 pounds, 5'3", and dare I say, (and did I say?) hott.

"Hi," she repeated.

"Hi," I replied, stunned like a captured fish who had just taken a bat to the head. She reached behind her and swung around a pack that appeared to be a backpack cooler. As I read the label on the bag she asked, "Would you like a Red Bull?"

No fricken way. Sure enough, the bag was that familiar shade of silver and blue, had the red insignia of the bull, and read in bold letters, RED BULL.

"So... Would you like a Red Bull?" she repeated.

Speak dumbass. That means you.

"You serious?" I replied with suaveness only inherent among those who had watched every episode of The Pickup Artist. (Honestly, what the hell kind of response was that?) "You’re giving away free Red Bulls?"

"Yah," she replied as she fluttered her eyes and gave an even larger smile.

"I would love one! Is there something wrong with it?" I asked.

"No, we're just giving out free Red Bulls as a promotion. It's our job," she explained.

"No kidding? Sweet! I would love one my dear." As she handed me a VERY ice cold Red Bull, the other girl wandered off and offered a Red Bull to another person.

"Uhhhh... So you have the Red Bulls right?" I asked. I pointed to the other girl, "so does she have the Vodka?"

"Hahaha. That’s funny!" she added.

"What's your name?" I inquired.

"Sophia," she answered.

"Well Sophia, my name is Matt. Thank you for the Red Bull. You and your friend have a awesome day!"

"Sure thing," she finished as I walked off to the showers.

I made my way up to the car drinking my ice cold (and free from hott girl) Red Bull, pondering how my day had taken two 180 degree turns and finished off magnanimously.

Moral of the story? Sometimes, it takes a leap of faith......

I always thought that this was inspirational...


watch yo back????

T'was a bit of a chilly Sunday - in the low 70's. And it was COLD I tell yah! I had to use a blanket. And wear a shirt. And socks. And had a shot of vodka. And another. :)


Crab!! Not crap!!

Or at least they aren't supposed to, right? But, damn... This one caught my attention and almost floored me. Gotta love it!

Just when you thought that all within a single day, you couldn't laugh hysterically, feel happy, sad, motivated, sympathetic, hopeful, and every other emotion under the sun, someone shows you that yes, indeed, you can. And sometimes we forget what it takes to make this country as great as it is and how far we have come. Here's to never forgetting...

What better way to spend the Martin Luther King Jr. day and the eve of the inauguration of Mr. Obama than to head out to the North Shore of Oahu. Sure there were probably some spots in town that were catching residual north wrap and I could have spent some time on the big freakin' hole in the roof but, it was a nice day. It was just one of those days that you stepped outside and asked yourself, "Who gave this to me? Who made this day so perfect? And who sacrificed so that I'm able to be here, right now, in this moment?"

Pipe wasn't in true Pipe form. The swell is on the downslope and the winds were wailing but, there were a few individuals who were living it up! That's what it's all about, correct?





















Corporate row was rather quiet. There was no hootin' or hollerin' from the balconies and no raging parties; just a small quiver of boards at the Volcom house.














The bodyboarders outnumbered the surfers, waves were shifty, and a few of the fellas bagged a few nice waves and took some cracks (egg + broken = omelet, right?).





























And..... Of course if surfing is not your thing, there's always hanging out at Shark's Cove.


The islands have been recently bombarded with funky weather - rains from hell, blusterous winds, heavy north swells, and a cold front to catch any islander off guard. It's a good thing that you can always find little hideaways here and there like this r-footer's dream that just so happens to catch a nice north wrap, complete with beautiful sunset.



Ok, the roof isn't on fire but, it does have a hole in it and it sure is letting some rain in. Construction definitely isn't mah bag baaaby but, I will be learning a lot about minor home construction in the coming weeks. The house is over 40 years old and I have to say that it is holding very well aside from the new ventilation.

Change is coming. In the wake of the Bush era and the dawning of the Obama era, America is confused, awaiting what is to come. International affairs are heated. Technology in all aspects are growing exponentially, applying pressure to many things and people. Health Care has definitely seen better days and one can only hope that the skies will clear up soon. You no longer have to go to the doctor's office, you simply need a computer with Internet connection. Big businesses, I mean the heaVY HEAVY HITTERS are dropping like flies. Crimes, both large and small, are ramping up as society feels economic pressure. Birds are dropping planes. Ponzi schemes have bypassed the thousands and have reached quantities of millions of dollars. Unknown and uncredentialed bloggers are influencing the masses while the media stands bewildered. Reality tv is becoming obsolete as ACTUALITY tv is stepping on stage.

Things as we know are, in fact, changing. They are changing whether we would like to admit to it or not. Ways of doing things are not as or no longer effective. I know. I know. All of this sounds rather dismal. But opportunities are abound. Change can also bring good things. And we can alter our perspectives as we see fit.

I felt that it was only fitting to start solomish, a blurb (or blurbs to come) about any and everything - blurbs about change, blurbs about "feel good", blurbs about cool, positive blurbs, blurbs of hope, open-minded blurbs, blurbs about nothing, "many things" blurbs and blurbs inspired by people. With that, here goes something!

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