A while back I was talking with someone who said that he couldn’t categorize his friends, meaning, he didn’t distinguish between his "best friend" and then down the line. To him, he’s got four or five friends–most of whom he’s known for at least 15 years–and who are all kind of his "best friend." He considers them on equal grounds. Of course, he relates to each friend differently, but he says that, in his mind, they are all equally good friends to him.

"You can’A while back I was talking with someone who said that he couldn’t categorize his friends, meaning, he didn’t distinguish between his "best friend" and then down the line. To him, he’s got four or five friends–most of whom he’s known for at least 15 years–and who are all kind of his "best friend." He considers them on equal grounds. Of course, he relates to each friend differently, but he says that, in his mind, they are all equally good friends to him.

"You can’t rate your friends," he said.

And that got me thinking. Can you categorize your friends? And if you can, should you?

My short answer is: yes and yes.

While I certainly appreciate the difficulty and nuance in categorizing friendships, we all do it, whether we are conscious of it or not. Some of us have a "best friend." That person is our go-to person almost regardless of circumstance, and there’s little doubt about who that person is for us. Meanwhile, some of us don’t have a "best friend" but a handful of close friends, who are all best friends of sorts, but without one sticking out above the others.

But whether or not we put our friends into boxes, or categorize them officially, we actually do it in our minds, even if there’s no formal planning of it. For example:

There are some people, or perhaps a single person, who we confide in with our deepest, most personal thoughts and feelings; our dreams and wishes; our fears. And maybe we tell one particular person these things, or we confide different things to different friends. But even though we might not sit down with a pen and paper and make the lists of who we would tell what, we still do it. We feel that tug in ourselves about who we want to share something with.

When we want to tell somebody something exciting, who’s the first person you think of? Same thing with when we struggle. We come up with a name, or names. But how did we do that? How do we decide?

Some friends are friends. True companions. Some friends are buddies. The ones you grab a beer with or go to the movies or have lunch. Some are people you’re friendly with, maybe a work friend or someone you see in a group. We all have our "A" friends and "B" friends and "C" friends, and down the line.

So even if we don’t formally put them in categories, we actually do it anyway. Somewhere deep in our subconscious, we make those determinations of who’s most trustworthy, or who’s most likely to be the kind of friend you need when you most need it. And also who is most likely to let you down, and so maybe we resist including that person.

Do you have that one person, that one friend, you tell everything? Do you have a few friends who are close in stature in your mind, but you share different elements of your life with each? Do you have some combination?

As time goes on we accept new friends into our lives, and they organically integrate into some level of confidence with us, as we do with them. Just as our existing friends move up and down in stature for us, given where we are in our respective paths. Sometimes we’re closer with a particular friend; sometimes not so much. Sometimes we find our way back to friends we’ve drifted from; sometimes we don’t.

Relationships are not permanent. We may want them to be–and they may turn out to be–but we flow in out of one another’s circle in different phases and with not nearly as much predictability as we would like. Relationships–and their stature–can change for us in an instant. A single word, a single deed, can split us apart–or bring us together. Plus, we all change. We grow. Some of us more than others, but we do not remain as we were. Our values shift. Our patience for wasted time lessens. We realize more and more that our time on this Earth is limited, and we try to make the most of it while we’ve got it, and so we look to spend that time with the people we appreciate–and who appreciate us–the most.

Where we fit in regard to our friends–and them with us–constantly changes. Sometimes those changes are big, but mostly they’re subtle, filled with lots of little moments that add up to something big.

So, going back to the original question:

Can you categorize your friends? And if you can, should you?

I finally got around to seeing X-Men 3, and after all the negative things I heard about it, I kinda liked it. I agree that it isn’t as good as the first two movies, but it was pretty entertaining. The action was good, and it had a decent story there. I thought it just needed to be flushed out a little more. The X-Men movies have that social commentary to them, and this movie needed a little more of the debate going on. There were also too many new characters, and none of them really got much scrI finally got around to seeing X-Men 3, and after all the negative things I heard about it, I kinda liked it. I agree that it isn’t as good as the first two movies, but it was pretty entertaining. The action was good, and it had a decent story there. I thought it just needed to be flushed out a little more. The X-Men movies have that social commentary to them, and this movie needed a little more of the debate going on. There were also too many new characters, and none of them really got much screen time, which lessened their impact. Still, it wasn’t a half bad movie.

Last week Liz and I were on vacation–with three other couples and their kids–in Cape May, NJ, the southern tip of the New Jersey shore. We had a great time overall, although a little storm came in mid-week, which also led to some amazing waves in the following days.

Late Friday morning a bunch of us were in the water, battling some pretty intense waves–and having a blast doing it.

Until …

I was in the water up to my waist, so I felt plenty safe, even as the waves were crashiLast week Liz and I were on vacation–with three other couples and their kids–in Cape May, NJ, the southern tip of the New Jersey shore. We had a great time overall, although a little storm came in mid-week, which also led to some amazing waves in the following days.

Late Friday morning a bunch of us were in the water, battling some pretty intense waves–and having a blast doing it.

Until …

I was in the water up to my waist, so I felt plenty safe, even as the waves were crashing down. And these were big waves. Maybe eight to ten feet. No baby waves. Wave waves. And then I got hit by one wave, went under for a few seconds, and when I came back up, found myself about 25 feet deeper into the ocean. The wave had a massive undertow that really dragged me out there in a hurry.

Despite the distance, I still felt all right, figuring I would just swim back in. But those waves and the undertow kept dragging me back to the point where I could no longer stand and was struggling. Thing is, my wife also got dragged out with me, and she’s a half foot shorter than me, and also still not 100 percent post-heart surgery, and she was struggling.

Really struggling.

So I swam over to her and said, "I got you." Clearly I didn’t, because another wave hit me, and dragged us back. And then some panic set in. And as I tried to help her, my energy was depleting, which made me struggle even more. I was having a hard time now just keeping my own head above water. It’s tough feeling like you’re in trouble. Its even worse to see your wife also struggling in the water with no immediate help at the ready. She was scared. I was getting scared. So I raised my arm for the lifeguard, although I had no idea if they saw me.

But what I did see was my wife’s head bobbing up and down in the water, and the fear in her eyes. I then yelled for help–and god bless them–a couple of teenagers, good swimmers, dragged us toward shore until the lifeguards got to us.

In the end neither I nor Liz was hurt, but it really took the wind out of my sails. I was legitimately scared, and it took the rest of the day to shake it off. Even at the end of the day Liz and I were very hesitant to go back in the water, even at a very safe level. We were shaken.

That night the fear came back to me. That sense of helplessness, of struggle.

I’m not saying I’m never going back in the water. Not at all. But I got a very real scare the other day, and another reminder that the ocean is no joke. A healthy fear is good fear. And whether I had or not before, I sure have it now.

Instant replay hasn’t made it’s way into baseball–yet–and I think it’s time has come. And if I had it my way, this is how I’d do it, using the NFL version as a model:

* Each team gets only one opportunity to use instant replay per game, no matter how many innings it goes.

* If the team challenges a call–but the call is not reversed–the challenging team loses one out

that inning. And if the play in question would be the inning’s third out–or if the challenging team is pitching–tInstant replay hasn’t made it’s way into baseball–yet–and I think it’s time has come. And if I had it my way, this is how I’d do it, using the NFL version as a model:

* Each team gets only one opportunity to use instant replay per game, no matter how many innings it goes.

* If the team challenges a call–but the call is not reversed–the challenging team loses one out

that inning. And if the play in question would be the inning’s third out–or if the challenging team is pitching–then the challenging team would lose its first out the next time it comes to bat.

* The umpires have two minutes–120 seconds–to reverse the call. If they can’t conclusively decide in that time, the play stands.

* Instant replay would be used for:

* fair or foul for a batted ball

* safe or out (making a tag or race to the bag)

* home run/vs. batted ball off the top of the wall

* Instant replay would [i]not[/i] be used for:

* balls and strikes

* balks

* interference plays

So that’s my version of instant replay in baseball. What do you think?

I recently read [i]You Suck[/i] by Chris Moore, which is just a fun read. It’s the vampire love story comedy sequel to [i]Blood Sucking Fiends[/i]. You don’t need to read the first one to enjoy [i]You Suck[/i], which is not only fun, but also garners great looks from people on the train as you’re reading!I recently read [i]You Suck[/i] by Chris Moore, which is just a fun read. It’s the vampire love story comedy sequel to [i]Blood Sucking Fiends[/i]. You don’t need to read the first one to enjoy [i]You Suck[/i], which is not only fun, but also garners great looks from people on the train as you’re reading!

I heard [i]Hot Fuzz[/i] is hilarious. I’m dying to check that out, too.I heard [i]Hot Fuzz[/i] is hilarious. I’m dying to check that out, too.

Just letting everybody know that I’ll be on vacation this week, so there probably won’t be any posts until next weekend.

Off to Cape May for some sun and lobster …Just letting everybody know that I’ll be on vacation this week, so there probably won’t be any posts until next weekend.

Off to Cape May for some sun and lobster …

My stop in Houston last week was a tough one, but [i]man[/i] did I get to do something awesome. To be a part of history.

All along I had planned to go to Minute Maid park–my first trip there–and catch a Houston Astros game. I was with Gene, a reporter on my staff, and a big baseball fan to boot. We figured all along that since the Astros aren’t doing well this year that tickets would be easy to come by.

Nice thinking on my part.

Because little did I know, but Craig Biggio, theMy stop in Houston last week was a tough one, but [i]man[/i] did I get to do something awesome. To be a part of history.

All along I had planned to go to Minute Maid park–my first trip there–and catch a Houston Astros game. I was with Gene, a reporter on my staff, and a big baseball fan to boot. We figured all along that since the Astros aren’t doing well this year that tickets would be easy to come by.

Nice thinking on my part.

Because little did I know, but Craig Biggio, the second baseman, was just a handful of hits shy of 3,000, an amazing feat by any standards. So when Gene and I went to the stadium on Thursday–Biggio was at 2,997–they were sold out. Not a ticket to be found. I wound up scalping tickets–for considerably more than face value–and man-o-man did it pay off.

Biggio indeed got his three hits for 3,000–he actually got [i]five[/i] hits that night! It was amazing. And the Astros won it in the 9th inning with a grand slam. Unfortunately, Gene and I had to leave a bit early because of a work commitment the next morning, so we missed the big comeback, but we were there for 3,000. It was one of the greatest single baseball moments I’ve ever witnessed live. In my own way I got to be a part of history.

It was a great night. Just a magical baseball moment that’ll live on forever. And I was there to see it.

Just a quick note today. I’m out in Houston for another work trip, although this is my last one for a while–thank God. I’m pooped!

As advertised, it’s hot and humid here, although ironically, nicer than New York right now, which I hear is being bombarded by thunderstorms.

I will say, though, that Houston has some darn good restaurants. Last night I ate at a great seafood place–the scallops were de-licious. And when I was here two years ago I ate at Americana, with a desert–tres lechJust a quick note today. I’m out in Houston for another work trip, although this is my last one for a while–thank God. I’m pooped!

As advertised, it’s hot and humid here, although ironically, nicer than New York right now, which I hear is being bombarded by thunderstorms.

I will say, though, that Houston has some darn good restaurants. Last night I ate at a great seafood place–the scallops were de-licious. And when I was here two years ago I ate at Americana, with a desert–tres leches–which I’ll never forget.

And after a long day of meetings today, I’m off to Minute Maid Park to see the Houston Astros, so I’m kinda psyched about that.

Otherwise, gotta suit up and do that hang-shaking thing.

Be back on Saturday …

In my last blog I talked a bit about some of my editing process. There’s one more technique I use that isn’t common. In fact, I don’t know anyone else who does it, although it may just be that several other writers do it, and I’m just not aware of it. Nonetheless, when I tell other writers that I do it, they initially look at me like I fell on my head. (I get that a lot). So either that means that maybe I need to get that head of mine checked out, or maybe I’m on to something.

It’s what I lIn my last blog I talked a bit about some of my editing process. There’s one more technique I use that isn’t common. In fact, I don’t know anyone else who does it, although it may just be that several other writers do it, and I’m just not aware of it. Nonetheless, when I tell other writers that I do it, they initially look at me like I fell on my head. (I get that a lot). So either that means that maybe I need to get that head of mine checked out, or maybe I’m on to something.

It’s what I like to call Back to Front editing. I’ll explain.

The normal, standard style of editing–whether it’s a novel, comic book, newspaper article … blog or barbecue chicken recipe, is to write, read and edit starting at the beginning and working your way to the end. Makes sense. It’s ordered. Sequential. There’s a flow. Fair enough.

And that’s how I edit, too. Why wouldn’t I.

But over the years I started to realize that, because of that standard editing process, the front of my projects got edited the most, and the quality and frequency decreased as I got toward the end. Because I start at the beginning, I’ll start reading, catch something, and then revise it. So then I start again, and maybe make a few more changes, re-read. And on and on. To the point where the beginning is clean and tight and reads well.

But as I continue through a document, I get tired. I lose focus. It’s normal. It happens to virtually every writer I know.

So what I do–and this is only sometimes, depending on whether I feel that it’s necessary–is that I’ll start at the end and read backward. Yep. Backward. Meaning, I start with the last paragraph and read the paragraphs in reverse order. With a novel I’ll only do this on a chapter by chapter, or section by section basis, given the project’s overall length, but for a short story or a magazine article I’m writing, I take this approach when I feel like it’s not as tight as I’d like it.

Take a single chapter in a novel, for example. Say there’s 50 paragraphs. This means that I’ll start by reading chapter No. 50, and then 49, and then 48, and so on, until I’m done.

I do this for the same reason I mentioned in my earlier blog bout sequencing. When I read in sequence, I start anticipating the words that are coming, and then don’t focus as well as I would like. Because I know what to expect, I sometimes skim instead of read carefully. By reading the paragraphs in reverse order, my mind needs to stop–and slow down–because the sequence doesn’t make sense. If forces me to refocus, and then give each paragraph more focused attention.

Again, this process is to find little things. Awkward phrasing, too much description. It’s for pruning. I don’t use this for overall flow because … it’s backward!

But if I’m working on a scene or a section or a chapter and I just don’t feel it’s quite there, I edit back to front. It’s just another little technique that helps me in the overall. Sometimes getting a new perspective shows me things I otherwise would have missed. I don’t use this technique all the time, but it is helpful.