Aquaman Film Review

TL;DL — the movie isn't good.

Who Gets Divorced? (Quality Under Pressure Podcast)

Really proud of this episode because it captures what I hope The Quality Under Pressure Podcast becomes — it's conversational, funny, engaged, but we also touch on a topic that is considered taboo by some. I hope we help normalize topics with lots of social stigma attached by talking about them. An intentional, engaged, and meaningful conversation is a very powerful tool. It's why I love meeting up with people for 1-on-1 chats over coffee and it's why I formatted the show after that sentiment. Plus, I get to see 2 of my best friends & co-hosts more often because of this project.

A big thanks to Leah for joining us and being an open book. Not everyone would be that open about their divorce and I am grateful for your generosity & courage. I'm glad we got your perspective on divorce and that we all laughed while you shared your insight. Also, thank you for the solid logo! It almost looks like we know what we're doing because of it.
It's crazy to me that one could judge another for being divorced. Marriage is an antiquated practice and if divorce brings happiness to the people involved we should be supporting them. At the same time, if marriage brings you joy then you should be allowed to practice it, but that doesn't mean it's right for everyone. The issue is that society tells you to get married and to stay married even if it means sacrificing happiness and health. Hopefully our conversation helps shine a little light to bring a little more balance to the topic.

I get stoked every time we record episodes. I really hope future episodes end up like this one and our episode on religion with McKenna & Leo — they're funny & light, but we dig into some important topics. If you're going to check the podcast out, I would start with 1 of those episodes. You can find us on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, Google Play, YouTube, and many other platforms.

Growing Up Really Poor - Wage War Against Poverty

A little over a month ago I applied for the Krusell Fellowship. It's a program that helps people in developing communities with housing and other needs. In a portion of my application statement I shared a bit of my history growing up in South Minneapolis. I never felt poor growing up, but I learned later in life that my family was indeed very poor. My parents immigrated to America with almost nothing, and they could not find much traction here early on due to cultural and language barriers. There was virtually no way we could not have been poor during the early years of our family. Now that I am an adult, I better understand that we lived well under the poverty line, but I did not understand exactly how poor we were until recently.

There were only two occasions I ever felt poor growing up. I remember feeling poor after winter break would finish and all the kids would meet up at school and brag about their Christmas gifts. My friends would have a laundry list of gifts the received, but I hardly ever got more than one gift. The lack of Christmas gifts stopped bothering me when I entered junior high. I had to quickly overcome the envy because we moved to affluent Plymouth when I entered junior high. There was no possible way my parents could get us gifts that matched the gifts of my suburban friends. The only other time I remember feeling poor was when I was around second grade age. A friend of mine had me over for dinner one night. Milk and macaroni and cheese was served that night. That must have been the most, middle-of-no-where-Wisconsin-white-meal I have ever had up to that point. I thought it was delicious. I remember going home and bragging to my parents what was served for dinner at Kevin's house. It must have been a few weeks later that my parents weren't able to even put food on the table at home. I remember being especially hungry that night, and all we could afford was a slice of bread for dinner. I remember vocalizing my disappointment and frustration with my parents. I compared what we were having for dinner to what I had at Kevin's house only a few weeks prior. I know I can claim youthful ignorance, but it breaks my heart to think about how my parents must have felt in that situation as their first born child sat in the middle of the kitchen crying and complaining.

My father, mother, and 2 siblings shortly after we moved to Plymouth

My parents did a wonderful job shielding us from the a lot of the craziness that life throws at families (especially at families in need). They exposed us to the stressors of life in small doses to insure we weren't overburdened with concern while not missing out on important life lessons. I am forever grateful for their masterful balancing act. It is a bit strange researching your own family's history though. I asked my parents about programs we utilized to help us get to the place we are today. One of the greatest things to have come out way was a program my father had access to. It was a program that reimbursed his tuition at a technical college if he worked full time and kept his grades above a B average. It gave my father the economic mobility our family needed to pursue a decent standard of living and more educational opportunities. Our family used that program and food stamps to stay afloat, and I feel a bit of regret now as I feel as though I have not vocalized my defense for welfare enough after learning how food stamps helped my family tremendously. I have a lot of Republican friends (I did, after all, grow up in Plymouth) and I consistently see their anti-welfare posts on social media.

Why should people have access to an education if they can't afford it? Why should people get food stamps when they are just going to abuse the system?

I cannot say I have ever agreed with their sentiments and I do believe a social safety net is important (especially in a nation as wealthy and as "Christian" as ours). I am ashamed that I didn't defend the people who aren't that much different than my family more vehemently. To be negligent of their needs is to fail morally. Henceforth, when I see people bashing social programs that work and that saved families like mine, I will take it as a personal affront. To take these programs away from people in need is to create a vacuum is misery, and certainly you have a little more compassion than that.
Our application statements for the Krusell Fellowship were limited to two-pages. I dedicated a paragraph to my family's history. It took forever to write and it was heartbreaking. Imagine me in my dimly lit room hacking away at my keyboard with vision blurred from the tears running down my face. I have it exponentially good because of my parents, but also because there is a community and system that is willing to lend a hand. I cannot begin to summarize the level of malice some people must have to want to deny people access to these programs of mobility. There are families out there that are treading water and all they need is a little assistance to find solid ground and run inland. I am hoping to soon be in a position to search the sea for these people.

Oh, one last thing. I did not get the fellowship, but life goes on.

When Someone Alters Your Life

On Thursday I learned that I will be starting a new chapter in my life later this year. It was a joyous day, but usually when one chapter begins, another one must end. As I begin to ink the first page of my new academic career, I might have punctuated the final period to my Christian career. I was born a Seventh-Day Adventist and I have been attending the same church for all 29-years of my life. Around the age of 21, I went on a spiritual journey that exposed me to many ups and downs. Over the last 5-years, I've grown into a comfortable atheist. I settled on being a huge skeptic about the physics of Yahweh, a lover of Jesus Christ's philosophies, and a continuing member of the church. The last remaining connective tissue between the church and I were long time members of my church and my pastor. This Saturday was my pastor's final day at the Minneapolis Korean Seventh-Day Adventist church. Pastor Kim came into my life at the perfect time. Had he not come when he did, I might have lost my connection to my church. My frustrations about religion were cooling, but hadn't completely hardened. He showed me that there is still space for love in religion and Christianity. He strengthened our youth group by opening the church doors wider than they had ever been opened, and by making his personal home, everyone's home. He never put himself above anyone, and treated everyone he interacted with like royalty. He was quick to nurture the ideas of other people (Without him A Night Back In Korea wouldn't have been possible). He embodied what Jesus Christ is to me.

With tearful goodbyes, we watched him and his wonderful family begin their new journey to Los Angeles. For every kind statement written about Pastor Kim, two equally great comments could be written about his wife. There will be an immense void at our church, but I am so happy for the church in L.A that will be adopting Pastor Kim. He will bring many great examples of love through his words and especially his actions. His children and his beautiful wife will enhance their new community exponentially. Thank you for changing my life, Kim Family, and I wish you nothing but the best.

Mission Accomplished! So, What's Next?

I sleep with my cell phone charging on my lamp stand. I do that so I have a fully charged phone to start my day, but also because I use my cell phone as my alarm clock. During weeks I abuse the snooze button, I will set my alarm song to something really aggressive. Imagine waking up to the sounds of Slipknot, As I Lay Dying, or Cradle of Filth. When I wake up, I normally shut my alarm off, and I check my e-mails. I have this horrible fear that I'll wake up and I'll have e-mails from people at work telling me I talked about something on-air that I wasn't supposed to talk about, or that I completely missed something. It's probably not a healthy thing to always be concerned about, but I'm not totally confident in my radio ability. In fact, feeling insufficient is probably an issue I will carry around with me for a long time. I guess the silver lining is that it always keeps me on my toes and open minded.

I move onto my personal inbox after I finish checking my iHeartMedia inbox. Yesterday, I had my usual spam, an e-mail from the Bernie Sanders campaign, and an e-mail that stuck out. It was from The University of Minnesota Graduate Admissions and the subject line was titled, "Subj: University of Minnesota - Application For Admission Decision". I locked my phone, stared at the ceiling for a second, and re-opened my phone. The e-mail was still there, and I didn't know what to do. A normal person might've quickly opened it, logged into their U of M account, and uncovered the University's decision, but not me. That lack of confidence slowly crept in again, and I thought, "Wouldn't it be awful to start your day with a rejection letter?" It's the sad way I approach everything that involves an appraisal of me (My job, girls, sports, etc).

I rolled out of and made by bed, started my morning routine, but I couldn't get that e-mail off my mind. I booted my computer up, because everything on desktop is better than mobile. I'm not here to brag about my computer, but I have some pretty sweet specs, and my operating system is on a solid state drive, so I only have to wait seconds to use my computer. I opened the e-mail, logged into my U of M account, and clicked on a link to open the University's decision. I decided before I did all of this to not raise any expectations. That way the fall back to reality would hurt less on impact. How incredibly shocked I was when the first word I read was, "Congratulations."Well, technically, I first skimmed over the date, my name, my student ID, and then congratulations.

The feeling of being lifted away on cloud nine is not something you feel every day, and difficult to describe. If this gives you something to compare it to, it's the opposite of having your heart broken. That's a feeling I know better. Heartbreak starts in your chest, and you feel a ripple work its way out from there. It feels like your blood is being drained, your body temperature drops, and your soul feels heavy. I quickly picked up my phone and called my mother. She had been pressuring me over the last week to send an e-mail to inquire when a decision might be made on my application. In typical fashion, my call went to my mother's voice-mail. I followed that up by telling my dad, texting people that helped me with my application process (recommendation letters, proof reading my statement letter, etc.), and I thanked a few teachers that helped me with this journey. It was actually my high school civics teacher that put me on a path to public service. There was no way I could have appreciated his teaching methods at the time as my mental capacity wasn't all there yet. His non-indoctrinating, nurturing, and engaged way of teaching really unlocked my desire to connect to and help the world.


This idea of applying to the Humphrey School of Public Affairs started about a year ago at church. It was a couple of months into the new year, and like I do every year around that time, I assessed my life and attempted to project what the next year would look like. I shared some of my concerns with a lifelong friends. In actuality, she's more of a sister as I've known her since she was in elementary school. I listened to what she wanted to accomplish in 2015, and I told her how I felt about my prospects. I hit a wall at work, I was underemployed, I wasn't engaged in any creative freelance projects, and I really wasn't working toward anything. I felt like an idiot, but she peeked my interest by telling me that the Humphrey School of Public Affairs might be a good fit for me. Although I've known my friends for many years, and I adore her, I never deeply talked to her about politics nor policy (although I should have considering she had been attending the Humphrey School of Public Affairs). She probably assumed the school might be something that matches me because I can't seem to stop commenting on social issues on Facebook. The more she told me about their Master's in Public Policy program, the more I was intrigued. I took some time to think about all the information she had shared with me, and I followed up one day. After receiving more input from her I decided to at least apply. I mean, what's the harm in that? I e-mailed the fine people working in admissions, and of course the deadlines for the year had all passed. I was encouraged to still apply, but also warned about the limitations. My ignorant little boy mind also didn't factor in all the time, effort, and money that went into the application process. What's the harm in applying? Studying for the G.R.E exam after not doing anything school related for years, paying for the expensive test, reaching out to people for letters of recommendation, and crafting an application that gloats about your attributes without sounding like a jerk. I have never been all that good at self-promoting. When it was all said and done, it was too little, too late. I was told to try again in 2016, and I fully intended to do that.

What I lack in confidence, I might make up in determination. Confidence totes a line with arrogance, and determination a line with stubbornness. Given the option between arrogance and stubbornness, I take stubbornness every time. There is no way to disguise arrogance, but at least I can claim my stubbornness is conviction. I took a fresh approach, and started the entire process again. Things got a bit rocky in November with the passing of a close friend. My G.R.E exam was creeping up, but I had no desire to prepare for it as I tried to sort out the concept of death. It's the closest I've ever dealt with death, and I couldn't make sense of it for a long time. In fact, I still haven't, but I have gotten to a point where I can compartmentalize it enough to function.


Fast forward to yesterday. After learning I had been accepted to the Humphrey School of Public Affairs, I thanked everyone I needed to thank, and I skipped out the door to work. When I graduated from the University of Minnesota in 2009, I thought I would never call myself a student again. I'm always a student of life, but I never thought I would be a student in an institutional setting. Well, here I am gearing up to return to the University of Minnesota in the fall of 2016. So what's next and what I am I expecting? I guess I don't really know. I know it's going to get really crazy with work, school, and trying to get involved in anything I can. I foresee my social life shrinking, decreased visits to the gym, and unless I can tie my creative side into my school work, I don't see that getting a lot of attention either. That might not sound great, but I am really looking forward to it. For so long I've been spreading myself thin, and I longed for something to put all my focus into. This feeling of excitement and focus is something I haven't felt since my first boss at Cities 97 hired me.

My focus for the next couple of years will be to gather the tools and knowledge to better myself so I can better the lives of the people in the communities around me and the communities itself. I will chase a life of academia and social work. Clearly I can toss that dream of becoming a millionaire into the trash bin now. Some of my church members recently suggested that I go back to school to study business. Given the options of business school or social work, I think, Jesus would have chosen social work. I'm of the millennial generation so a job that makes you happy takes priority over a higher paying job. My family is of the proletariat class. It is a class of people I admire and value, and hopefully it will soon be my duty to protect the proletariat class.

 

I'm Lost

In 2007, I wrote over 200 entries in my blog. I doubt most entries were profound or anything worth reading, but I remember writing whatever was on my mind because I found it therapeutic. I was going through a major identity crisis, and I remember waking up feeling afraid and depressed everyday. I somehow slowly drifted away from writing my thoughts out. I do not know what the catalyst was that created that change, but a shift happened. I feel like I've been carrying around a heaviness lately. I don't think it's one element that is creating this feeling, but rather a collection of stressors. I've been cramming for the GRE exam and preparing my application for Humphrey School of Public Affairs. Both those items probably would make any able and normal person feel at least a little anxiety. On top of that, I feel as though my discomfort is compounded as I still try to compartmentalize the concept of death. It's been over a month since Mitchell died and his funeral. However, I still catch myself falling into these stupors where I am swimming on my own thoughts. I've had trouble falling asleep a couple of nights this week. I'm low on energy, although the lack of sleep might have something to do with that. On Sunday, I almost texted Mitch to ask him if he wanted to watch the Minnesota Vikings game together. The nihilist in me tells me to let go of it. The teenager in me wants to scream and cry. The adult in me whispers to be strong and patient. Reality tells me I'm really confused. I've never dealt with uncertainty well, although I've been surrounded by it most of my life. Maybe writing will help. It's worth a shot. Just ramble on this vast digital canvas.

My Interview With Nico & Vinz

I didn't know a whole lot about NICO & VINZ before this interview, but the more I listened to their music and looked into them, the more fascinated I was. I love cultures and talking about things I don't know much about, and seeing that Nico & Vinz are from Norway caught my curiosity. I knew I had to ask them a bit about that, but we also talk about their music and how diverse their sound is, and we talked about what is coming up for Nico & Vinz. This is my full interview with Vinz.

Short Film: "I Care More"

We made the original cut of "I Care More" back in 2013, but now we have an all original cut with the help of my friend and musician Casey Hjelmberg. There are some disturbing images so VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. It was pretty much a 48 hour project. We had some spare gear, and a couple of my pals were free, so I wrote something really quickly one evening, filmed the next day, and then edited it.

Grab Show Show: A New Online Variety Show

I consume a lot of news and I wish there were more outlets for people to get news in a fun way. I think shows like The Colbert Report & The Daily Show are so great. They are informative, smart, and funny.
So, I've been trying to mess around with a few ideas. None of them are too refined or where I want them to be, but hey, you have to start somewhere.

This is an idea for an online variety show. Your critical feedback is appreciated.