Stream of (Total) Consciousness -- 9/3/13: A Show About Nothing -- With Video!

Today was like a true Monday in every sense -- except that it was Tuesday. Having spent the last several days away at a wedding, the last thing I wanted to do was get up and go to work. Granted, going to work doesn't carry quite the same drudgery as it has at times in the past, but still -- work is work, and warm bed covers are warm bed covers. I was tired, I missed Emily, and I was fully in the flow of doing nothing.

And I'm good at doing nothing. Like, really good.

This is not the first time I've felt this way since I've been out here -- it inevitably happens whenever I've ventured back into the real world -- and if the past has taught me anything, what I needed today was a loop. When I'm lethargic and attempting to re-acclimate, getting out on the golf course is undeniably the best cure. It's like going to the gym -- I don't want to do it beforehand, but I never regret it when it's over. It gets me back into a routine, it gets the blood flowing again, and, best of all, it puts a little Subway money in my pocket.

Unfortunately, my day was spent waiting for a call that would never come, though. The caddie yard was promisingly thin this morning, and it looked as if I would get out at some point. But five-plus hours and three reruns of SportsCenter later, and I was clocking out and hitting the range for a bit before heading home. This meant that not only was I going to be sentenced to a George Foreman, air-flavored dinner, but also that my overwhelming desire to do nothing would run wild, going completely unchecked the rest of the day.

Not helping matters is the fact that football has now started, and I get especially lazy during football season. It's a dangerous time of year, because watching games gives me the false sense that I'm actually doing something, when, of course, it's just worthlessness masquerading as some measure of ill-conceived productivity. Plus, because this past weekend's wedding strategically kicked off mere moments after the Texas Longhorns did, I was unable to watch UT's season opener live. This wasn't going to be a problem -- until I used the wonders of Slingbox last night to log into my parents' TiVo, only to find that the recording of the game had gone missing. I don't know if I set the recording incorrectly or if it mistakenly got deleted, and ultimately, I don't really care. What I do care about, though, is that I was able to record a replay of the game this afternoon, and I am now going to watch it tonight. I've waited over nine months to see the Horns in action again, but it's those extra three days of unknowing radio silence that'll kill you.

So given all of this, there wasn't much motivation to try to write something in-depth or half-poignant. And that's when it hit me: a couple of weeks ago, we were told that Golf Channel was giving Bandon Dunes some sort of award, and that something was going to be filmed in the caddie shack in regards to its presentation. It turns out that the resort was putting together a humorous, viral video of their acceptance of this award, and after the announcement was made, they were then going to post it on their Twitter feed.

Once the video was released, I wanted to share it with everyone, but I couldn't figure out the proper context to do so -- until now. Why not just stick it into some random, pointless post when there's nothing better to write about? I could ramble on for a handful of meaningless paragraphs and link the video in at the end. This would both appease my guilty conscience while also allowing me to stay true to my mission of doing absolutely nothing.

Win-win.

So below is a link to the video. For context, picture a college basketball team finding out that they just made the NCAA Tournament. I'm in the front row on the right, wearing a light blue hat:

And if you want to see the entire piece about Bandon Dunes, here's the actual clip:

Stream of (Total) Consciousness: 7/17/13

The only thing more awkward and embarrassing than being the new guy is actually doing something that makes it plainly apparent that you're the new guy.

Since I've gotten here, I've lived by those words with the same dedication and devotion that Marines live by their code; they've been my Bandon Dunes equivalent of "Unit - Core - G-d - Country." And thankfully, I've done a respectable job of upholding them, working hard to learn the ropes and prove my worth while simultaneously blending into the scenery. 

Until this morning, that is. 

As I've explained before, there are buses that shuttle caddies from the caddy shack to whichever course their guest is playing. Twenty minutes before your tee time, an announcement is made over the shack's public address system, detailing who needs to get on the bus and what course each person is going to. Because there are four possible courses (Bandon Dunes, Bandon Trails, Pacific Dunes, Old Macdonald) that are located in varying directions, there are commonly multiple shuttles waiting out front, and the overhead announcement denotes who is to get on which bus. 

I was a little anxious about going out to caddy today, and I was closely watching the clock as it counted down to go-time. Well, when I heard the girl start to make the announcement, I immediately popped up and headed for the shuttle -- without paying much attention to which shuttle I was supposed to board. 

Once you get on the bus, the drivers typically get on the radio and re-confirm to the office how many caddies they've got and to which course they're going. Sitting there, I heard the guy say, "Two to Bandon (Dunes)" -- when there were actually three of us on board, and I needed to go to Old Macdonald. This didn't stop him from starting to pull out of the lot, though, and as we approached the exit, I then heard the driver from the other shuttle say over the radio that she was missing one person, but she didn't know who. 

That missing person was me -- and nobody knows who the hell I am.

Mercifully, we hadn't yet turned left onto the main road to go to Bandon (Old Macdonald is to the right), and I was able to hop out before too much damage was done. Of course, there was still the matter of the long run around the corner and the embarrassment of getting on the correct bus after I had so blatantly screwed up. Typically, there aren't more than three or four caddies on each shuttle, but for my walk of shame, there was not surprisingly a full house of seven or eight.    

"Stellar listening skills," one person cracked.  

On the bright side, maybe this blunder will help a few more people around here actually learn my name (the current approximate stands at three), although that can be a slippery slope, and I'm not of the opinion -- at least in this situation -- that any publicity is good publicity. With that in mind, I think it's best to keep doing what I've been doing, to remain rooted in my maxim that's gotten me to this point nearly unscathed.

After all, I'm a little scared to find out what they do for a Code Red around here.

Stream of (Total) Consciousness: 7/16/13

We’re into Day 4 of this new “daily journal” approach, and in reading through the first three entries, I realize they haven’t really been that daily journal-esque; they’ve been more of the same style of articles I’ve been writing, and I’ve actually had to go back and write down some of the occurrences from the last few days in the notebook I’ve been keeping, just so I wouldn’t forget.

From what I can tell, there are two issues at play here. First, if I’m sending something out and hoping people will read it, I want it to be interesting. As the great Aaron Sorkin has said (and as I have referenced before), the responsibility of a writer or director or whoever is to keep the audience’s attention for as long as he’s asked for it. This leads directly into issue No. 2:

I haven’t been doing anything all that interesting.

As I mentioned the other day, it’s been slow going around the caddy shack, at least for those of us who are fresh out of our green Trainee bib. I haven’t had the chance to meet any new people or receive a completely underwhelming tip. Yesterday, minus water bottle fill-ups and restroom visits, I sat uninterrupted in the same chair from 6:15 a.m. – 2 p.m., staring at my computer, trying to be productive in the face of a couple of horrific Adam Sandler and Jennifer Aniston movies. After merciful back-to-back episodes of “How I Met Your Mother,” I finally gave up on getting a bag and went to the practice center for a couple of hours. Then I came home, made dinner (chili!), and had a Slingbox-Skype date with my girlfriend, Emily, to watch “Dexter” on DVR.

Riveting, I know.