I wasn’t looking for a dynamic splash page to act as a central portal to my complete online identity, but one found me. And once I understood what it was and what it could do, I fell in love with the idea. It created some complications with a few of my already existing relationships, but after a few awkward days, I think I’ve got it settled.

SabreRyan.com is now a portal powered by Flavors.me, which, through the power of RSS, will act as a central hub of all my online activity.

The blog you’re reading now is the descendant of the former SabreRyan.com and will act as a writing blog.

My Tumblr blog will take care of quick hits like quotes and pics and videos and music I like.

Everything else will pretty much stay the same.

Now that everyone knows their roles and is working in harmony (even though I feel a bit fragmented), I should actually be able to get to, you know, writing stuff.

This has literally been playing in my head for about 6 weeks now. I would have posted it sooner but I’ve been so mesmerized by its lyrics and corresponding dance moves that I completely forgot I had a blog. Enjoy!

I had a pretty strong inclination, anyway.

I was only two when Star Wars came out, so there wasn’t much ribbing. I mean, I still remember being called Lightsaberperiodically in kindergarten and such, but it never really stuck; most five year-olds aren’t big teasers, and when they did tease, most of their jests involved poop or boogers.

Then some time around junior high there was an American Gladiator named Sabre. He was a big black guy. I don’t remember a single person ever teasing me about that. I remember several people asking me if I was named after him, and I’m fairly certain those douchebags are still trying to pass junior high currently.

But I always knew this day would come. Some day when something big would take it and run with it. I think I went through all of the stages. I lived in denial for a few years that it would ever happen. Then in fear that it would be used by something just awful and make my life unlivable (I have a cousin named Barney). And finally acceptance, that someday, in some way, my (very sacred) name would be used not in reference to me, but some popular cultural phenomenon.

That day has come.

I suspect that if I got to choose which vehicle would jack my identity, The Office wouldn’t be a bad choice. The last 26 minutes* of the episode – entitled Sabre - were actually quite entertaining for me, catching myself intuitively responding to the television every time it was said, trying to decipher if Sabre Corp was being portrayed as a good company or bad, and, most importantly, discerning if this was a one-night-only occurence or if I should brace myself for a lifelong paradigm shift in how people refer to me.

Well, buckle your seatbelt, me. It’s gonna be a long, bumpy ride. Let this be your proof: http://www.sabre-corp.com/

*The first four minutes were an utter catastrophic nightmare. That my name would be publicized without me has always been a fear, but I’d never even thought that they would mispronounce it, thus creating an eternal nickname. Truth be told, I’ve answered to Saw-bray (as they pronounced it) most of my life. I will not, however, ever respond to Sa-bree. That they chose the Spanish version rather than the even French-ier version, I am thankful.

I know some of you think I’m being overdramatic or even vain. Well, maybe, but let me explain my psyche a bit. I’venever been confused for another Sabre. There are no Sabres in Hollywood, or popular culture, or shit, even in history. I know other Sabres exist now (most of them are women, suprisingly), but they are so few that I really don’t have to acknowledge them (so I don’t), and it’s only been since the advent of the Internet that I was able to verify their existence. Up until about the age of 28, belief in another Sabre was like believing in ghosts or the Loch Ness Monster: people always claimed to have spotted another one, but there was never any proof, just hearsay, and I certainly never came across one on my own. I’m one of a kind. Not many people have the opportunity to think or believe that. I mean, I’d guess about 99% of you know one other person with your name in your family, let alone a friend, or some celebrity somewhere. You’ve been desensitized to it; you derive your uniqueness from some other quality. Me? I’ve always had my name.

Not anymore.

Nope. Now I’m that guy from The Office. And right, I know it could be worse: it could be According to Jim or whatever. But then again, nobody watches that dumb shit; I know I wouldn’t have seen it and I’d bet no one would ever tell me. It just had to be the most popular show on television.

If I take any solace from tonight, it was kind of neat thinking that for about 30 minutes in the entire history of the world, every person I’ve ever known or who had ever even remotely heard of me thought about me.

Oh, man. That actually freaks me the hell out.

Clown shoes!