Andy Borgmann's Blog

Today started like any other day at Hilton Head. Woke up. Put swim suits on. Went to the beach. Had a baby...

What?

Had a baby?

Ok, that never happened before.

It was about 5pm and we were getting ready to go to a nice dinner for our last night of vacation and Andrea started to have some pain. So she called her doctor in Indiana. Well her doctor told her everything was probably fine, but to swing by the hospital to confirm.

Two hours in the hospital and it is confirmed: she's having the baby tonight. A whole two months early!!!

I take a screaming Jadyn (who wants her mommy) home and put her to bed, we read Little Mermaid. And now I am scrounging around, trying to get everything ready for the show tomorrow night, a show I probably won't be at.

But it's weird, ya know. I always thought the first person I would drive to the hospital to have a baby would be my wife, or at least my own child.

But in a unique way I feel like it is partly my child. Just four days earlier, while standing on the beach, CJ turned to me and said, "you want to be the first to know what the name of the child is? Asher James. Andrea doesn't even know that I have picked it yet." Who knew, four days later, and two months early, he would be here.

Andrea is most likely going to be moved to Charleston, SC tomorrow, and her and Asher are going to have to be there for three weeks. I am trying to convince them to move her to Savannah instead because the access is so much easier for everybody up north (and me in Atlanta). But we'll see.

That's about it from here. I have done a lot of stuff with my 20 years at Hilton Head. But having a baby is definitely a first.

UPDATE
Asher's First Video

Right where the 605 and the 210 meet in Los Angeles, I distinctly remember the billboard when driving back from the beach in Orange County. It was a CitiBank billboard and it had the following phrase: "Your college girlfriend called and wanted to remind you that you were once poor and happy." Even at 21, the phrase resonated somewhere deep within me and I have never forgot it.

Fast forward 4 years. If you would have told me about the job I have now and the money I am making and the lifestyle I am living back in 2004, I wouldn't have believed you. It's been a whirlwind couple of years. But am I happier? Was life not better from the cheap seats?

Don't get me wrong, I am sure life is incredibly more stressful when you can't pay the bills. When you worry about foreclosures and debt and providing the basics for your family. It's just an inevitable that life gets complicated as the years go on, but does that by definition mean life gets less happy?

This weekend was a pretty fun one for me. Friday night, Justin and I saw the Braves series opener against the Reds from our seats (the cheap seats). The Braves won, with Hudson pitching a 2-hit, complete game (you never see CGs anymore). On Sunday, my Uncle invited me to the series finale against the Reds at his seats (the good seats) which were 8 rows back from home plate (the photo to the left doesn't do it justice).

But it got me thinking; do better "seats" in life, mean a better life?

What I find unique about most people I know who are "rich," is there is a distinctly different tone they use when referring to the old, "poor" days. There is a fondness there. Talking about beat up cars barely making it home. Eating PB&J for days on end. Not being able to go to movies or pay for cable and just enjoying one another. Are those days lost as we progress?

I am not sure what the answer is. I am only 25, and by American standards, I am not exactly "rich". But maybe that is a good thing. Maybe life is better in the cheap seats and I should enjoy it while I can. Maybe that is what the Bible means when it says:

Ecclesiastes 2:26
To the man who pleases him, God gives wisdom, knowledge and happiness, but to the sinner he gives the task of gathering and storing up wealth to hand it over to the one who pleases God. This too is meaningless, a chasing after the wind.

It's 6:30 am and I can't get back to sleep. I can't get out of my head that 6.3 miles¹ away in another bed, one of my friends probably can't get back to sleep either. She was fired yesterday.² And for some reason I can't get the ValuJet crash out of my head...

On May 11, 1996, ValuJet 592 went down in the Florida everglades. On that flight was the son of Warren Lanthem. Warren was the Senior Pastor at Mount Pisgah. I did not know Warren or his son. But understandably it devastated him and eventually led to his decision to transition out of the role of Senior Pastor. Ultimately, Allen assumed that role.

Sometime later, Glenn and Allen went to the Master's golf tournament and they got the idea of starting a talk radio show. It was just crazy enough to work.

In June of 2005, Allen and I sat in Monterrary's Mexican Restaurant. I was a new hire and excited about my job. Amongst other conversation, Allen asked if I wanted to join the radio show "team" to see if we could make this work. I did.

In February 2007 I remember sitting in Allen's F-150 and him saying that he was stepping aside at Mount Pisgah and pursuing the radio show full-time. I was ecstatic.

On October 1, 2007, I stepped out full-time.

And as of April 1, 2008 we had grown to 16 affiliates and a handful more ready to close.

On April 2, 2008, my friend and 10 others were fired from Mount Pisgah due to a "recession" and dwindling Sunday morning attendance.³

Only a self-centered individual like myself could turn a friend's firing back on me, but I have. I don't know if this is because it is the first (of presumed many) friend's getting fired in my life. Or if it is because I too worry about how easy it would be to lose a job. Or maybe because I somehow associate my "success" with her "loss." I don't know. But it got me thinking about my favorite movie In Good Company and what it is like to have to fire someone (warning there are swear words).

What I think sucks the most about all of this is that even in the scene above there is this separation of firing someone who is single and married with a family. As if, somehow it is easier for the single person to take it. After all, they don't have anyone depending on them.

But they also have to go home to an empty bed at night.

They have to do it "alone."

Heck even the terms of the severance illustrates this. As I read it, part of the terms is that you can only share with your spouse, your attorney and financial advisor, and a third situation that would rarely happen. Severance is setup itself to not really allow for the processing of an event like this. So as I (against its terms)⁴ read the letter and tried to advise her on what I thought she needed to do next, I realized just how important our friends are.

I took most of the day off yesterday and just hung out with her. When night came, some other friends joined us, we grilled out and watched baseball on my patio. We talked about the good things and the bad things about our previous place of employment.

We reassured her we all would be there for her in whatever way she needed - including financial support - until she was able to land another job. We are so proud of who she is and how great she did her job. She is in the good company of people who loved and care for her. She, at least, wasn't going through this alone.

(And for the record, there were more than one single girl fired, so anybody who would want to, can't prove who I am talking about here )

Justin thinks I have horrible taste in movies. This is mostly true. It isn't that I don't like good movies, it is that I like all movies.¹ I have seen exactly 643 movies in my life.² Out of those, I have disliked only 3.³ By definition this means that I like bad movies, vis-a-vis Justin is correct.

But if I had to list my three favorite movies they would be the following: In Good Company (I relate), The Bourne Trilogy (I am pretty sure I would sleep with Jason Bourne if he asked me to), and Hannibal. And don't even say Silence of the Lambs is better than Hannibal. To casually mention Dane Cook, if you even say Silence of the Lambs is better than Hannibal, I will stab you in the jaw.

Reasons Hannibal is better than Silence of the Lambs:

• Julianne Moore is way more attractive and less annoying than Jodi Foster
• Much of it takes place in Italy
• Plot focuses on Hannibal. Who gives a crap about Buffalo Bill
• Someone (tastefully?) eats their own brain

I could go on, but I won't.

One of the most essential scenes in Hannibal is where Lecter wonders if Agent Starling's parents are both "deep rollers." Take a look.

I don't know why, but as I laid awake past 3 am for the second night in a row mulling over the complexities of the universe, and even though I haven't seen this movie in over three years, this scene came to my mind while in the darkness.

It's probably because, like Starling, I too wonder whether or not my parents were both deep rollers.

This is no fault to them. It really has nothing to do with them. But I think the fundamental question Lecter was asking of Starling, and I am asking of myself, is valid. Is balance possible for us? Or is the passion, intensity, and drive hardwired to erase balance? Because with out balance - with out at least some "shallow" - I imagine one eventually hits the ground and that can't be pretty.

My mind drifts to a show we did a while ago about new research that says our happiness "range" is genetic. We can do little things to effect our happiness, but it is mostly predetermined. I am not sure I buy that, but I think Lecter would.

This got me thinking how fulfillment and balance are related? It seems the people I know that are the fullest are ones who have balance. Balance in love. Balance of power. Balance with family. Balance towards work.

I know many "deep rollers" whose parents were obviously a shallow/deep mix. These are truly great people. These are people to lookup to. They have a drive and passion for life that is respectable, but the balance in family and love and downtime that is missing in a deep/deep mix. Hopefully I can be like these people more as time goes on, or else I fear the next thing in store is a giant splat!

I checked the mail today and got a save the date from Kim in Minneapolis. Kim always draws my mind towards two things: 1.) the fact I wanted to date her my first two years of college, and 2.) the song Champagne High by Sister Hazel - which incidentally is about a guy at a wedding who realized how he missed his chance. So you think you know why this song reminds me of her don't you? You'd be wrong...

You think the song reminds me of her because I somehow think I missed my chance with her? Sorry. Nope. I never asked her on a date because she was in a relationship when I knew her and then she moved. That was pretty much the end of it and I don't feel like I missed anything.

Ok if that isn't it, you think she introduced me to the song? Wrong again. That would be Sara.

But the song does draw my mind to two girls I do feel like I missed my opportunity. I know when I get the save the dates to their weddings I will feel like I am on a "Champagne High."

But the day's irony doesn't end there. I have recently been trying to digitize all the Scrubs episodes for my iPod. Sure enough, the next episode after visiting the mailbox was "My Cold Shower." This is one of my top 5 favorite Scrubs episodes. But it is particularly fitting for the Champagne High moment. Scrubs decided to use Stolen instead of Champagne High in the last scene - probably my favorite scene in all of Scrubs - but I don't blame them, it fits.

That scene is so powerful. That feeling is so raw. Maybe I am the only one. But I understand the emotion in this scene. It's like in Top Gun when Meg Ryan tells Kelly McGillis that there are "hearts broken all over he world tonight...because unless you are a fool that boy is off the market."

Most of you know how devoted I am to work and what I do is pretty much my life. So this next statement should not be taken lightly. If you could tell me, 100% for sure either one of the relationships would work out, I would drop what I do and move there in a second - even if it meant working at McDonald's.

But I have no guarantee either would work out, so I don't do it. Maybe it is because I am not a romantic, and am a realist (*read* cynic). Maybe it's because I am a wuss. Maybe it's because I believe in fate. Maybe it is because I think as soon as I get what I want, I no longer want it. Whatever it is, I stay here in Alpharetta.

But this post isn't about them. It is about singleness. It's about missed opportunity. The realist in me moves on. The realist in me looks for "their qualities" in others. The realist in me knows there will be others, and there will be one that is even better. But then again...here's hoping to Atlanta's job growth and maybe some job will "steal" one of them to Atlanta. Here's hoping. I'll keep a bottle of champagne ready...

On Friday night we had a "Tiffany turns 27" / "Andy bought a house in November" party. At one point there were about 35 people there. This surprised me because a.) I didn't think 35 people could fit it my tiny townhome, and b.) it took until 10:30 before somebody showed up that I didn't know.

It got me thinking though. It got me thinking about the movie trailer I saw in 2004 for Crash. I loved that movie. It was a movie about LA and racism. It was unique and brilliant. But it is a line from the trailer, which had relatively little to do with race, that had me hooked. The line was, "In LA, nobody touches you...I think we miss that touch so much that we crash into each other just that we can feel something." I lived in LA. I know this to be true. But it isn't just LA - it's everywhere.

In September I downloaded a song called Car Crash by Matt Nathanson out of the iTunes free single of the week section. I don't normally do this because the music usually sucks, but this one sparked my interest for some reason. It's lyrics are thoughtful. The chorus in particular:

I wanna feel the car crash
I wanna feel the capsize
I wanna feel the bomb drop, the earth stop
'Til I'm satisfied
I wanna feel the car crash
'Cause I'm dyin' on the inside
I wanna let go and know
That I'll be alright, alright

I think it is fitting given the recent Duke University study that says we have fewer friends and confidants than Americans did 20-30 years ago. We are wealthier than we have ever been. We are more in control of our lives than we have ever been. We know more than we have ever known. We are more connected then we have ever been. Yet we are lonely. We miss that touch. Why? Why are we lonely?

I am a huge Scrubs fan. I have 134 of the 145 episodes on my DVR. I am not going to go into why I love the show so much. I am just going to show you one scene (it's worth the 2 minutes):

When I first saw this in January, I sent the link to my friend CJ and told him:

I wish you watched Scrubs so you would get this and not think it is weird/gay/ridiculous, but since [my girlfriend at the time] calls you my gay lover and [your wife] calls our friendship "special," I dedicate this video to you

Let's be honest. I would be JD because I am nerdy, quirky, and can't seem to stabilize a relationship. And CJ would be Turk because he's as cool and smooth as a black guy, and married with a kid.

My & CJ's friendship reminds me of David and Jonathan's in the Bible. I would probably be David because I am the one most likely to do something immoral sexually and then murder someone to cover it up. But the Bible says that at the news of Jonathan's death David said, "Your love for me was wonderful, more wonderful than that of women."

Jonathan died before David had an affair with Bathsheba and then murdered Uriah to cover it up, only to be outed by Nathan. But I have a feeling that if Jonathan was alive, it wouldn't have changed anything. CJ knows I am not perfect. And not just in a generic, "we all sinners" kind of way. He knows I am not perfect. And inversely, I know he isn't perfect. But it doesn't change anything. If anything, it is why I love him more.

David and Jonathan weren't living in a "Crash" world. And as wealthy, and knowledgeable, and connected, and in-control my life gets, it is the guy love and connectedness I find with CJ (and others) that makes this life satisfying and full.

I think I am a man! Yeah, I know, pretty weird statement huh? After all, shouldn't I have known I have been a man for 25 years now - or arguably at least 7 years. Sure, but...

One of my biggest concerns about buying a home was that I am like the least handy person in the history of all people. And because I wasn't the one who was lucky enough to marry a wife that was the handy-woman of the house, I have to admit, I was nervous about home ownership because of my lack of "construction" skills.

But that all changed this week and I think I can finally admit: I am a man. Why? Because I installed a new faucet in the downstairs bathroom and I installed finger print locks on my door all by myself¹.

I first saw the Price Pfister Ashfield faucet at my ex-girlfriend's lake house - and from the moment I saw it, I knew I wanted it. It has such style. Such creativity. Such, well, grace. I liked the lake house version better (it was Ventian Bronze), but I knew that wouldn't ever match anything in my bathroom, so I went with Polished Nickel. It looks awesome. It actually makes me want to wash my hands after going to the bathroom.

Also, if you know anything about me, you know that I hate having stuff on my body (No watch. No jewelry. I don't even want to wear a wedding ring it is that bad). Keys fall into this category. I hate carrying keys. So when I heard that Kwikset developed Fingerprint Locks, I knew I had to have them. Plus, I am always giving people keys to my house because I like the fact my home is a hangout for the 20-somethings of Alpharetta, GA (even when I am not there), and this makes it that much easier to do.

But this isn't about biometric security devices that show my OCD or an appreciation for artistic faucets that might imply that I am gay. This is about gender identity, and the little things in life that confirm we are the people we want to be.

I think about the time my dad moved me out to college when I was 19. It was just the two of us, and it was a really good weekend. I remember we didn't have anything to do one night in LA, so he went and found Dodger tickets. Sometime in the middle of the game we went to get hot dogs. He got a beer and asked me if I wanted one.² I politely declined (because I really am not a drinker), but in that moment I remember feeling like a man. I remember feeling like my dad approved of who I was growing up to be. I remember feeling that I could handle life on my own in Los Angeles because of that simple act.

It was such a little thing you know? Just like a faucet install. But the older I get, the more I realize how often we fail to recognize these simple life moments which are so important. Even right now, I am tearing up a bit thinking about it - which probably negates the manliness of the handiwork.

I don't usually use the blog like this - mainly because I don't think people really care about what is going on in my life - but there will be no attempts at deep theological points. There will be no culturally relevant conversation. I am simply blogging to tell you that as Thursday, November 8, 2007 Wells Fargo owns my life for the next 30-years because I successfully closed on my first house.

Take a look at the move-in pictures.

Closing was a snap. I told them I was in a hurry and it took only 10 minutes (I wasn't in that big of a hurry, I thought it was going to take 45 minutes). After closing I actually had to run to the office to do an interview with Ilyce Glink as Allen decided that one hour of this weekend's show was going to be on me buying my first home (p.s. great listen for anybody in there 20s considering doing the same - entertaining, fun, helpful, and Allen makes fun of me a lot so all you who enjoy that will get a kick out of it).

But at 4:21 pm I opened the door for the first time to my own home.

The move went real easy since I hired movers (never again will I move my 900 lb armoire). Everything was pretty much in the house by Thursday night. Movers came Friday to complete the big stuff. And by the time Molly got in from Bham around 7 pm, everything was setup ready to go. Made my first trip to Home Depot on Saturday. All and all it was a pretty good weekend.

I already had a bunch of people over Sunday to unfortunately watch the Colts lose (stupid Vinatieri) and we have many events planned now that my dad graciously bought me a grill.

Be sure to check out the photos and if you missed it, read my post on the buying process of a home.

This week, I all but finalized the next step in my pursuit of the American Dream: I successfully negotiated and came to terms on my first home. We close on November 8th.

According to every stress test I have taken, changing jobs and buying a home are about as stressful events as most people experience in their lifetime (minus getting married and having a death in the family). I decided to do both within 15 days of each other. Put another way, as my friend Jared put it in a recent e-mail, "Wow, new car, new job (sorta), new girl, new house. What's next??" Let's hope nothing is next. Or maybe best put, according to CLiving.org, I have a stress score of 313. I have to admit, I feel it. Usually I thrive under stress. This month has been a bit much.

But I did it. I finally bought my first home. I have only been seriously thinking about it for the last year. There are four huge lessons I learned from this whole process. If you have ever bought a house before, you can feel free to stop reading, but I know a lot of 20-somethings hit up this blog so I offer my two points of advice below.

#1 - Ask questions. I am a pretty proud guy. I don't like asking questions. Whether that is looking for a product at Target or when "lost" and in need of directions - I usually have enough confidence in myself that I will figure it out on my own. You cannot approach buying a home like that. I can't tell you how many times I used the phrase: "I have never done this before, so I apologize if this is a stupid question, but..."

#2 - Do your research. Even after I asked as many questions as I did, and the fact that I talked with a lot of "experts," it still doesn't mean there aren't mistakes. I found a fairly large mistake that my loan officer missed and that ultimately cost me close to $1000 bucks at closing. Now I would much rather find that out now before the shock at closing of trying to find and extra Grand. You cannot do enough research, and in my opinion get freaking good at Microsoft Excel.

#3 - Do what you are comfortable with. If you are like me, once you even hint at buying a place, everyone and their mother will come out of the woodworks and tell you what they think. While a lot of the time this is a GREAT thing, it can get tempting to do something you aren't comfortable with. This is ultimately what happened to me last year about this time. Renting isn't always as stupid of a decision as those who own homes make it out to be - especially if you aren't sure you can stay somewhere for at least three years.

#4 - Everything is negotiable. For some, this is fun. Me personally, I hate this. But it is important. Not just the purchase price, but everything is negotiable. The closing costs the seller picks up, what is left in the home, what is fixed before buying the home. Heck, even what the bank charges you in closing costs. It is all negotiable. Make sure you have options, as that is the best way to "pit" them all against each other.

Well, that's about it. Before I go, I would like to thank

• Mike Durden - a great realtor
• Brian Cueny - a great loan guy
• My father for some great advice
• Marty (Molly's mom) for coming and viewing all the prospects with me
• Mitch of WIN Home Inspection - for educating me so much on my home in only 2 hours
• Joel - for being such a great and flexible roommate.
• Probably most of all Glenn - your generous offer really saved me some money in the long run.

Anybody up for a house warming party?

This past Thursday (September 27, 2007) was Molly's 22nd birthday. We went to The Melting Pot in Birmingham, Alabama. I have never paid so much money to cook my own food. But it was a really, really fun time and the company was breathtakingly beautiful - and you can't beat that combination.

Amidst the conversation, she mentioned to me that she had never had a boyfriend on her birthday before. This didn't really come as a shock given that while I had never thought about this fact, I knew it to be true. But then it got me thinking, out of the 9 previous relationships I have been in, I have never been in a relationship on my girlfriend's birthday. I got close once (even had the gift bought and everything), but we broke up a couple of weeks before (and yes I still gave her the gift). I verbalized this to Molly, expressed that it was actually kind of fun to have a girlfriend on her birthday (doing the whole planning thing, buying the present*, etc..etc...) and then we moved on to something else.

But it was driving home from Birmingham that got me thinking about firsts. This last month and upcoming week have been some huge firsts for me in my life. It was the first time I ever went out to eat with a girlfriend's family, without the girlfriend being with us. It was the first time I left a "real-world" job - one that I had since graduation (I'll blog about it later). It is probably going to the be first time I ever make an offer on a house (sidenote: everybody pray that goes well).

I think it is firsts in life that make life scary & fulfilling all at the same time. Many times I find myself faced with the temptation to avoid firsts. Some firsts are challenging and stressful (*cough* buying a first home). Others are exhilarating and fresh. But all force us to grow. All force us to wake up in the morning and realize that life will not stay the same - no matter how much we enjoy its security. We can either take these firsts head on and make them our own, or we can let these firsts happen to us out of fear and nervousness. Either way the firsts come, the question is what do we do with them?

*For those of you out there that stopped reading after my comment about the gift, here ya go. I got her this rug from Vera Bradley. Now, most people react (including some of her friends) with a look of disgust that I bought her a rug for her birthday. Now hold on. We were driving back from the lake in the middle of August and she was thumbing through an InStyle Magazine and she commented on how she liked the rug. Then, when I was in Fort Wayne (home of Vera Bradley), I swung by the Vera Bradley store and picked it out. Worried that I had the wrong one, I actually drove to Wal-Mart in Huntington to purchase the InStyle Magazine (yeah that didn't make me look gay or anything). Then, realizing I couldn't find the rug (I had the wrong issue), I made a second trip to the Vera Bradley store and went with something that I knew wasn't the one she pointed out, but that matched her room. Thus, the story of her present is complete.