Vending machines are offly convenient. In an age where so many industries face the chopping block against technology, I can only foresee brighter horizons for vending machines. Instantaneous shopping for life's unexpected necessities and luxuries. We've all seen the basics...soda, snacks, candy, toys, cigarettes, etc. But many people don't realize just how trailblazing the field of automated vending actually is. It's not too unusual to find coffee, umbrellas, or even a hot dog inside a vending machine these days. Did you know that in California you can buy marijuana from a vending machine (for "medical" use only, of course)? And if those aren't surprising to you, well get ready for what's ahead. Mostly throughout Japan, vending machines are spreading faster than the plague and contain the most innovative contents. Here are some of my favorite items that one can obtain through the claw:
Hello Kitty Popcorn (served hot)
Generic Fried Foods
Pornography (Print & Video)
Eggs
Pet Supplies
Fishing Gear (including LIVE bait)
Toilet Paper
Lobsters (picture the claw game over a lobster tank)
USED panties
Hot Ramen Noodles
Rice
Flowers
Designer Condoms (i.e. United Colors of Benetton)
"Water Salad"
Rhinoceros Beetles
Dry Ice
Sex Toys
Pizza
Pregnancy Tests
It's nuts! So if you haven't already guessed, I started thinking of other "vend" opportunities. Here are just some of my suggestions:
Office supplies (I'm interning right now, give me a break)
Clothes (specifically ties, belts, graphic t's & hoodies (I feel like people would own more of these items this way, and you can never have too many)
Memorable Scents (campfire, new car, etc. - point is, if you're somewhere smelly this could be the answer)
Scooters (sometimes you just don't feel like walking anymore)
Funny Hats (sombreros, birthday cone-hats, beanies, top hats - the general public would just be happier, no?)
Pre-folded paper planes (if there's a calm wind, who wouldn't want to vicariously take flight through paper)
Balloon Animals (It's really more of a challenge to the industry...not only to have them contorted, but to vend without bust)
Grilled Cheese Sandwiches (It's just a nice treat I think the world needs more of)
Underwear, the clean and colorful kind (I know certain people, followers even, that will appreciate this)
Dare I say..Cupcakes.
Pics (because I know how often they get lost)
Live People (maybe we can set up a return policy here, and the machine would be rather large...but totally worth it if you need a friend)
Love (I know the Beatles say you can't buy it, but maybe just a hug?)
Corny Jokes (who wouldn't want to pick one up on the way to the office holiday party?)
Come-backs (You know it sucks when someone takes a stab at you and you've got nothing good to come back with. Well, just head to this machine and you'll have your sarcastic wit or tarnishing insult prepared for next time)
So now, I'd like for you to leave me with some of the items you'd love to see become vend-worthy...
Friday, February 27, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
The Projects
My twitter changes all the time. My mood, sometimes. But my schedule, that never changes, at least during the week. Whether you're in school or at work, Monday through Friday typically has a design set in place, a maze to work your way out of each week. The maze doesn't change, but somehow it's never as easy as it looks. Obvious traps, dead ends, detours you didn't expect to take, there's all these factors that make some weeks last forever and others seem like they never occurred. Point is, the maze itself never really changes. I was thinking about this on my commute home yesterday. I sit in a train filled with strangers, all of us just making our way out of the maze. I tend to focus on my commute a lot. I guess I'm baffled by mass monotony, but there's not much more of an explanation. So I try and look for something odd, a different angle, a new perspective, to make the everyday seem not so everyday.
I'm riding along...
Out the window I see the city, it's dark out now, and the uptown kids have hit the lights. I've always found Harlem terribly interesting. I've hardly spent more than a few moments walking through, yet every time I take this train, doors open up into a Harlem wind. My dad used to work out there, I remember. From behind a dashboard and beside his partner (my godfather actually) he patrolled the city as one of the "finest." He even coached a little league baseball team on some dusty diamond behind brick walls. He knows that place much different than I do. I know it only through the glass. From here I can see the buildings, "the projects," as they say, and the speckled lights that shine inside every room that holds a life. Across the cast iron balcony, behind that red curtain, there's a story. It's appropriate that floors of a building, are also called stories. "I'm 30 stories high," one might even say...and boy is that true. Every window is a whole new plot. Inside one you've got a family of five, in another a retired sanitation worker, and just across the hall, a bachelor's pad (why is it never bachelorette's?). And from where I sit, I get a momentary glance into that life. Exposed like a dollhouse, I can see inside their story. But only for a moment. The train is always moving. I also notice the fire escapes, these ladders that connect one story to another, those beneath it and those above it. It will always be there, the option to escape. Sometimes it takes an emergency, a fire that forces you out and takes you somewhere safe. Yet other times it's simply an escape, a tempting path out of your own story and a way into another.
Harlem is what I see today. The train keeps moving.
I'm riding along...
Out the window I see the city, it's dark out now, and the uptown kids have hit the lights. I've always found Harlem terribly interesting. I've hardly spent more than a few moments walking through, yet every time I take this train, doors open up into a Harlem wind. My dad used to work out there, I remember. From behind a dashboard and beside his partner (my godfather actually) he patrolled the city as one of the "finest." He even coached a little league baseball team on some dusty diamond behind brick walls. He knows that place much different than I do. I know it only through the glass. From here I can see the buildings, "the projects," as they say, and the speckled lights that shine inside every room that holds a life. Across the cast iron balcony, behind that red curtain, there's a story. It's appropriate that floors of a building, are also called stories. "I'm 30 stories high," one might even say...and boy is that true. Every window is a whole new plot. Inside one you've got a family of five, in another a retired sanitation worker, and just across the hall, a bachelor's pad (why is it never bachelorette's?). And from where I sit, I get a momentary glance into that life. Exposed like a dollhouse, I can see inside their story. But only for a moment. The train is always moving. I also notice the fire escapes, these ladders that connect one story to another, those beneath it and those above it. It will always be there, the option to escape. Sometimes it takes an emergency, a fire that forces you out and takes you somewhere safe. Yet other times it's simply an escape, a tempting path out of your own story and a way into another.
Harlem is what I see today. The train keeps moving.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Frozen Minds.
This is ALL about my town. If you read past the cute reminiscence of the ice cream parlor, you'll find all the reasons I wanted to leave. It's not the developers and immigrants by any means...my issue lies with the outspoken Caucasians who think they know what being "American" is all about. It bites me when people insult a culture, for having a culture. What does "change" mean to them, I wonder?
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/02/22/nyregion/thecity/22froz.html?pagewanted=1&_r=2&ref=thecity
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/02/22/nyregion/thecity/22froz.html?pagewanted=1&_r=2&ref=thecity
Monday, February 23, 2009
Love on the weekends.
My last two posts were super short, huh? Well today's Monday - and there's nothing short about Mondays. My weekend was...fantastic. I saw 3 of my favorite "Greeks" and 2 of my favorite bands. Every minute was a renewed sense of happy, and I'm grateful to have the friends I do to let a weekend play out as such.
Friday.
It started out exactly as a calendar would agree - Friday, with a capital F. I went into work a few hours late (they knew this before hand, don't wave any fingers) and fiddled through all my tasks as fast as I could. There was anticipation in my cubicle that no assignment could deflate. I was blowing up inside, and my sights were set on the ground below. I had the office well informed that a friend from abroad had finally made their way to New York, that at any moment past five o'clock they might look up from the subway stairwell, and that I didn't want to be more than a few lights and cameras away from them. At about 5:40 I got the call I'd been waiting for. Within two minutes I was dodging stand-up comedians and passing by offers for a tour of the city. It's a funny feeling being in Times Square with a few thousand people, and knowing that eventually one of those faces would look back at you and stop. Of course when that moment finally came we were separated by crowds and cars. Our heads swam atop the commuters' waves, struggling to keep our eyes above the surface. Suddenly the curb met my toes. There we were just standing on the edge, watching all the green lights, waiting for our red light. It came. We splashed. I was drenched in friendship.
We played the ketchup game in a ballin' hotel room while we waited for more "Greeks" to arrive. They eventually paddled downstream in an off-white minivan. Ivy and I were standing on the pavement, guarding a steal of parking spot. An hour later we were stumbling around on the 19th floor and cramming every last one of us into a bathroom, for the sake of taking a photo. Nine months apart and I felt like I'd never left these kids. Turns out we hadn't changed at all.
That night I took them to see The Unionn @ The Village Underground. No question about it. Extraordinary as usual, there wasn't a moment of doubt that my friends would love it. Live music, particularly at this level of talent, leaves you feeling experienced, like you were a part of it. And I got to be "part of it" with five faces I wish I saw more often.
Saturday
I was awoken inconveniently at about 8 in the morning. Ugh. Meter was hungry. Pocket filled with quarters, I was heading for the feed. Why are hotel lobby's always filled with people ready to conquer the sunshine in style so early in the morning? It makes the under-slept revelers stick out like a refridgerator in a haystack. Advice - walk swiftly till the coins in your pocket rattle into their parking garage ears.
We meandered into Central Park. Max grew star struck under the over-arching branches of the Literary Walk, a movie haven to say the least. We spilled out memories faster than we could soak them up, each of us bringing to light a detail someone else had left out. Time let us wander away, but our hunger never lost it's eye. By two o'clock we were headed into Astoria to let our stomachs reconnect with our past. And of course we ate our way into oblivion.
Later, we FINALLY collided with Andrea, a friend from Athens who'd just recently landed herself in Queens. We settled at a cafe that may as well have been in Greece, drank our familiar orders, and listened to Andrea tell us everything going on under the acropolis. It was one of those "where am I right now?" kind of moments. Eventually, after rummaging through a Greek supermarket for all the old essentials, we packed ourselves back into the mini-van and headed for Marist.
I drove. Most others were tired. Not Ashley though, she was awake. And talking. I responded. Love her.
That night we did the college thing. Friends from here and those from there met somewhere in between. It's nice when that can happen...to some extent. The truth is, it can be weird. It's not that you're "different" around either one, it's just that they know a different shade of you. You live through different circumstances with different people. That's your common ground, and it's unique to those clusters of friends. It's funny, I love the divide better than the mesh. There I said it.
Sunday.
Here we go. Quite the anthem to my day, I made frappes and said goodbyes. Much too quick, I kept thinking. Nine months too long, 3 days too short. I'm already waiting for the comeback.
A car and two trains later I was sitting beside Ricky in her red Pontiac. We had one of those parking lot conversations that carry the weight of our worlds. She was sipping soup and giving me those Erica eyes - those 'here's what I see, tell me what you think' glances of affection. I love that about her. She communicates a lot by saying very little. And when I read the words she writes on paper (translated onto screen), I know there's a reason for ever last letter. She shares my love for words (I'm jelous of her to be honest) and I think that's how we function - we read each other.
And of course we end up where this all began - tC. Incredible night. There's a lot more these days than just 5 guys. DOB, Jay, Andre, Colin, Ricky, Randi, Emma, the list goes on; it's a perfect ensemble of comedy and support. I look back on where they were two years ago - I was one of seven bystanders, four I came with, another I've come to call Colin. They sang the songs that never made it to a recording studio and deliberated the distinction between bandmate and friend. Young love back then, love only today.
In today's highlights, DOB was on Room Raiders! Hahaha It was AMAZING.
This Condition's cameo was priceless too. I agree with Anthony - room one was just not mature enough for DOB.
Anyway...back to the mix I suppose. Monday just happened, Tuesday's about to.
THAT WAS LONG.
Friday.
It started out exactly as a calendar would agree - Friday, with a capital F. I went into work a few hours late (they knew this before hand, don't wave any fingers) and fiddled through all my tasks as fast as I could. There was anticipation in my cubicle that no assignment could deflate. I was blowing up inside, and my sights were set on the ground below. I had the office well informed that a friend from abroad had finally made their way to New York, that at any moment past five o'clock they might look up from the subway stairwell, and that I didn't want to be more than a few lights and cameras away from them. At about 5:40 I got the call I'd been waiting for. Within two minutes I was dodging stand-up comedians and passing by offers for a tour of the city. It's a funny feeling being in Times Square with a few thousand people, and knowing that eventually one of those faces would look back at you and stop. Of course when that moment finally came we were separated by crowds and cars. Our heads swam atop the commuters' waves, struggling to keep our eyes above the surface. Suddenly the curb met my toes. There we were just standing on the edge, watching all the green lights, waiting for our red light. It came. We splashed. I was drenched in friendship.
We played the ketchup game in a ballin' hotel room while we waited for more "Greeks" to arrive. They eventually paddled downstream in an off-white minivan. Ivy and I were standing on the pavement, guarding a steal of parking spot. An hour later we were stumbling around on the 19th floor and cramming every last one of us into a bathroom, for the sake of taking a photo. Nine months apart and I felt like I'd never left these kids. Turns out we hadn't changed at all.
That night I took them to see The Unionn @ The Village Underground. No question about it. Extraordinary as usual, there wasn't a moment of doubt that my friends would love it. Live music, particularly at this level of talent, leaves you feeling experienced, like you were a part of it. And I got to be "part of it" with five faces I wish I saw more often.
Saturday
I was awoken inconveniently at about 8 in the morning. Ugh. Meter was hungry. Pocket filled with quarters, I was heading for the feed. Why are hotel lobby's always filled with people ready to conquer the sunshine in style so early in the morning? It makes the under-slept revelers stick out like a refridgerator in a haystack. Advice - walk swiftly till the coins in your pocket rattle into their parking garage ears.
We meandered into Central Park. Max grew star struck under the over-arching branches of the Literary Walk, a movie haven to say the least. We spilled out memories faster than we could soak them up, each of us bringing to light a detail someone else had left out. Time let us wander away, but our hunger never lost it's eye. By two o'clock we were headed into Astoria to let our stomachs reconnect with our past. And of course we ate our way into oblivion.
Later, we FINALLY collided with Andrea, a friend from Athens who'd just recently landed herself in Queens. We settled at a cafe that may as well have been in Greece, drank our familiar orders, and listened to Andrea tell us everything going on under the acropolis. It was one of those "where am I right now?" kind of moments. Eventually, after rummaging through a Greek supermarket for all the old essentials, we packed ourselves back into the mini-van and headed for Marist.
I drove. Most others were tired. Not Ashley though, she was awake. And talking. I responded. Love her.
That night we did the college thing. Friends from here and those from there met somewhere in between. It's nice when that can happen...to some extent. The truth is, it can be weird. It's not that you're "different" around either one, it's just that they know a different shade of you. You live through different circumstances with different people. That's your common ground, and it's unique to those clusters of friends. It's funny, I love the divide better than the mesh. There I said it.
Sunday.
Here we go. Quite the anthem to my day, I made frappes and said goodbyes. Much too quick, I kept thinking. Nine months too long, 3 days too short. I'm already waiting for the comeback.
A car and two trains later I was sitting beside Ricky in her red Pontiac. We had one of those parking lot conversations that carry the weight of our worlds. She was sipping soup and giving me those Erica eyes - those 'here's what I see, tell me what you think' glances of affection. I love that about her. She communicates a lot by saying very little. And when I read the words she writes on paper (translated onto screen), I know there's a reason for ever last letter. She shares my love for words (I'm jelous of her to be honest) and I think that's how we function - we read each other.
And of course we end up where this all began - tC. Incredible night. There's a lot more these days than just 5 guys. DOB, Jay, Andre, Colin, Ricky, Randi, Emma, the list goes on; it's a perfect ensemble of comedy and support. I look back on where they were two years ago - I was one of seven bystanders, four I came with, another I've come to call Colin. They sang the songs that never made it to a recording studio and deliberated the distinction between bandmate and friend. Young love back then, love only today.
In today's highlights, DOB was on Room Raiders! Hahaha It was AMAZING.
This Condition's cameo was priceless too. I agree with Anthony - room one was just not mature enough for DOB.
Anyway...back to the mix I suppose. Monday just happened, Tuesday's about to.
THAT WAS LONG.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Laundry
I haven't seen them in 9 months. But finally, today, after 3 seasons, 2 Presidents and 1 deep breath, I'll hit the happy with some of my closest friends from Athens. I'm sure they've changed. I've changed. But I hope we haven't changed. Does that make sense?
My laundry's just about finished. Every time guests turn my corner, I feel the need to wash up my life a bit, including the wardrobe. I'll probably do some mopping later.
I'm excited today. EEK.
My laundry's just about finished. Every time guests turn my corner, I feel the need to wash up my life a bit, including the wardrobe. I'll probably do some mopping later.
I'm excited today. EEK.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Go.
I made it out alive today,
I suppose that's something to say.
Tomorrow gives me another shot,
And I think I'll have a go.
I suppose that's something to say.
Tomorrow gives me another shot,
And I think I'll have a go.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Much Ado About Nothing
I've been battling with Shakespeare for the better portion of this week. I'm actually one of those people who enjoys Shakespeare - to an extent. Much different than your leisurely read, it requires a certain amount of effort; an 'Old English' translator, a loose grasp of Elizabethan culture, and of course lots of time to spare. Up till now, class consisted of reading on my down time (sparknotes nearby), and discussion come class time. But a schedule as simple as that would never qualify as true coursework. Because a "course" assumes a measured degree of learning, aka grades. So now there's this paper. And despite all the discussions I've had and opinions I've generated, I can't find a place to start. Introductions can be the hardest part to write, but when done well, can be the best part. I have faith I'll get my thoughts into some logical configuration, but till then I think I'll procrastinate some more. Wish me luck I suppose.
Pierce made me a hemp bracelet today. Does this mean love? I think so.
Caught up in the swing,
Tim
Pierce made me a hemp bracelet today. Does this mean love? I think so.
Caught up in the swing,
Tim
Sunday, February 15, 2009
On track.
Start. Had an amazing breakfast cooked by the girls on the flip side of the wall. Found out about Stew Leonard's, or 'Disney World meets grocery shopping' as some refer to it. Constructed a turtle friendly racetrack. Watched new turtle housemates Stu and Leonard, compete on said track. Stu somehow won, despite Leonard's clear energetic edge. Utilized facebook as a verb, in every interpretation. Worked on an exceptionally challenging project with an exceptionally challenged group of advertising majors. Kept doing that for 4 and a half hours. Had a genuine laughing fit while reading my friend's '25 random things...' list on facebook - hate it, but entertaining if well executed (props Meghan Burke). Discovered fmylife.com - visit and you'll be shamefully addicted. Threw left over pasta in the microwave for two minutes. Stirred it. Then one more minute. Sat down to watch TV. Channel surfed for 45 minutes and didn't find a thing worth while. Realized how technologically spoiled I can be. Sat down to do homework. Started browsing youtube. Now I'm finally writing my blog. Still haven't done that homework. Well that's Sunday. For some reason it's usually the hardest blog for me to write. I never know where to begin. Irony? End.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
It's easy to love.
A blog is sort of like a weekly sitcom. I'm supplying you bits and pieces of my life. The comical, the dramatic, the ironic. Yet I rise to the even bigger challenge of writing to you almost daily. Anyway, the point is that when you make this sort of commitment it's customary to address reality's landmarks. Today's one of those landmarks - Valentine's Day. I haven't really developed any sort of stance on Hallmark's offspring, but do think it's nice when there's more to a day than just a number and a month. It gives me excuses. An excuse to cook a fancy meal. An excuse to eat chocolate covered strawberries. An excuse to get free condoms. An excuse to have a party. You see my point.
I look at all of my friend's who are happily intertwined with significant others and it makes me think. And what I think is that love is the easy part. Love is so incredibly easy to fall into we can't help it. I've never met anyone who successfully tried to fall in love. That wouldn't be love I suppose. Yet despite it's simplicity, once you're in it with someone and you decide to build a relationship out of it's bricks, then it's not always so easy. I don't like calling it "work" but a relationship definitely does require effort from both sides. And sometimes that effort is more than we can handle. Falling in love may be easy, but making it "work" isn't, at least not always.
I think that's why I don't believe in soulmates. Managing a relationship is too rugged to be as shiny as a "perfect pair." Besides, the idea of one person being the right person is intimidating, no? How are you supposed to know how or when you've met them? What if you spend six months loathing over a broken heart, when that person wasn't "the one" anyway? What if you already let go of the person you were supposed to hold onto? As you can see, I don't like having limits. And love shouldn't have limits. Most of us fall into it more than once in a lifetime anyway. Sometimes we're loved back, sometimes we're not. Sometimes it works, sometimes it just doesn't. It's simple to diagnose in the aftermath. It isn't complicated.
I don't like it when people say things are "complicated." Facebook sure capitalized on that one, huh? 99.9% of the time it isn't complicated at all. It's incredibly simple, just like love. In fact, the people that do call it complicated are usually the people in limbo. They've got the love, but they can't make it work. And because they don't want to extinguish the flame they have burning, they avoid a relationship. It's fun. But there's a reason it's not official. Jelousy, commitment, betrayal, impotency, intimidation, narcissism, timing, the list is enormous. The point is, there's a way to describe it, usually in one word. So when people say it's complicated they're really just too lazy to explain the truth, OR they haven't accepted the truth. It's not always a bad thing, either. Hanging out in limbo can be really fun. It's all the sugar without the cavities.
All that said, Love is incredible. And that's what today is all about. Today's not about the work. Complicated, committed, or strictly platonic, we can all appreciate Love. It's that easy.
I look at all of my friend's who are happily intertwined with significant others and it makes me think. And what I think is that love is the easy part. Love is so incredibly easy to fall into we can't help it. I've never met anyone who successfully tried to fall in love. That wouldn't be love I suppose. Yet despite it's simplicity, once you're in it with someone and you decide to build a relationship out of it's bricks, then it's not always so easy. I don't like calling it "work" but a relationship definitely does require effort from both sides. And sometimes that effort is more than we can handle. Falling in love may be easy, but making it "work" isn't, at least not always.
I think that's why I don't believe in soulmates. Managing a relationship is too rugged to be as shiny as a "perfect pair." Besides, the idea of one person being the right person is intimidating, no? How are you supposed to know how or when you've met them? What if you spend six months loathing over a broken heart, when that person wasn't "the one" anyway? What if you already let go of the person you were supposed to hold onto? As you can see, I don't like having limits. And love shouldn't have limits. Most of us fall into it more than once in a lifetime anyway. Sometimes we're loved back, sometimes we're not. Sometimes it works, sometimes it just doesn't. It's simple to diagnose in the aftermath. It isn't complicated.
I don't like it when people say things are "complicated." Facebook sure capitalized on that one, huh? 99.9% of the time it isn't complicated at all. It's incredibly simple, just like love. In fact, the people that do call it complicated are usually the people in limbo. They've got the love, but they can't make it work. And because they don't want to extinguish the flame they have burning, they avoid a relationship. It's fun. But there's a reason it's not official. Jelousy, commitment, betrayal, impotency, intimidation, narcissism, timing, the list is enormous. The point is, there's a way to describe it, usually in one word. So when people say it's complicated they're really just too lazy to explain the truth, OR they haven't accepted the truth. It's not always a bad thing, either. Hanging out in limbo can be really fun. It's all the sugar without the cavities.
All that said, Love is incredible. And that's what today is all about. Today's not about the work. Complicated, committed, or strictly platonic, we can all appreciate Love. It's that easy.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Just Press Play
100 days till graduation. There's really no avoiding it. It's coming and everyone knows it. If my school's conveniently located "countdown clocks" didn't send me the message, the dozens of people who have asked me the unanswerable question, "what are you doing after college?," definitely did.
Growing up, birthdays were anticipated. It's an unscientific fact that kids love getting older. And we're as guilty as the new ones are. We would disect who was the oldest and who would get stuck "waiting" the longest. It's pretty clear that we wanted the future. We wanted to be in the next scene of the movie, press fast forward and get to the good parts. Thirteen and seventeen gave us a foothold at the box office, sixteen gave us a driver's seat, eighteen gave us tobacco and scratch off tickets, and twenty-one...well it's where the anticipation seems to end.
Now my days consist of face-off upon face-off against time. Hell, for Halloween I was a murdered countdown clock. Now don't get me wrong, I don't want time to freeze altogether. There are plenty of things I have to look forward to, believe me the list goes on and on. It's the moments that close chapters that are the scariest - graduations, birthdays, etc. There's no real solution to these inevitable dates and times, but it's an observation well worth making. If life was a DVD player, there would only be a play button. So don't waste time looking for any others.
100 days. I can wait.
Growing up, birthdays were anticipated. It's an unscientific fact that kids love getting older. And we're as guilty as the new ones are. We would disect who was the oldest and who would get stuck "waiting" the longest. It's pretty clear that we wanted the future. We wanted to be in the next scene of the movie, press fast forward and get to the good parts. Thirteen and seventeen gave us a foothold at the box office, sixteen gave us a driver's seat, eighteen gave us tobacco and scratch off tickets, and twenty-one...well it's where the anticipation seems to end.
Now my days consist of face-off upon face-off against time. Hell, for Halloween I was a murdered countdown clock. Now don't get me wrong, I don't want time to freeze altogether. There are plenty of things I have to look forward to, believe me the list goes on and on. It's the moments that close chapters that are the scariest - graduations, birthdays, etc. There's no real solution to these inevitable dates and times, but it's an observation well worth making. If life was a DVD player, there would only be a play button. So don't waste time looking for any others.
100 days. I can wait.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Breathing Room
I just submitted this little story as an example of a "compromising situation" I'd been in, and how I overcame it. It's a pretty significant memory for me, so I figured now's as good a time as any to share it. The end is a bit preachy, if you will, but remember it was for an application.
Last May, I spent a week exploring Italy. We planned to take an overnight train from Rome into Milan. Nothing seemed challenging in the slightest. Yet when the train pulled up to the platform, I noticed that it was a bit crowded. Once inside, my observations were strikingly reassured by an incredible condensation of human beings. A narrow pathway (no more than 3 feet wide) was barely navigable under the immense traffic flow. I was with two friends, who I feared for immediately. One in particular I knew may be in danger of a severe panic attack. Perspiration, heat, and foreign odors followed us every inch. Every cabin we passed was dark and silent, each seat occupied by a passenger fast asleep. I remember looking backward and into my friend’s eyes. She was clearly agitated and uncomfortable with what we’d gotten ourselves into. The train eventually began moving and we were forced to make the most of what we had. Unfortunately what we had was barely enough breathing room for each of us. We were in Italy, none of us spoke the language, and we had a plane to catch early the next morning. Even if an alternative existed, we had no way of finding it. So we rode the train.
I placed a small piece of luggage underneath me and propped it up as a chair; the hall was so thin my kneecaps pressed against the opposite wall. My right thigh rested on my companion’s leg, and my left leaned on that of a stranger’s. We had eight hours ahead of us and falling asleep wasn’t really an option. I knew I could make it; I knew I’d have to. I’m great at seeing the glass half full, shedding light on the bright side and uncovering the optimism, in even the most compromising of situations. And I knew that my friends, at least those who traveled with me, weren’t always so wide eyed under these circumstances. It was important to stay collected and confident if only for my companion’s to see. Motivation is often key in times like these.
About half way through we exited the train for a ten-minute stop in Florence. The warm air felt like ice against my burning skin. I saw my friend approaching me, and I knew immediately what was coming. Her limit. She had reached her breaking point. I know now that there are times when reaching your limit doesn’t always mean the end. It just means that you can’t necessarily do it alone. I gave her a hug. She’d been squeezed between two unhygienic Italian men who’d been kind with their words but forward with their eyes. It was enough to make her feel even more uncomfortable than leaning on a window for four hours already had. When we boarded the train again I stayed close to her. My situation wasn’t much different, yet being a man I was spared any unsavory stares. I tried to talk her through the rest of our journey, about everything and anything that was better than that moment, all the places we’d seen, and were going to see. And eventually we made it.
Looking back, it was certainly the most compromising situation I’d ever been in, both mentally and physically. And what got me through it was nothing short of confidence and communication. Once I was able to secure those two elements, motivating those around me came easy. Perhaps it’s a recipe for a sticky situation, but I believe it be a formula fit for any given day.
Last May, I spent a week exploring Italy. We planned to take an overnight train from Rome into Milan. Nothing seemed challenging in the slightest. Yet when the train pulled up to the platform, I noticed that it was a bit crowded. Once inside, my observations were strikingly reassured by an incredible condensation of human beings. A narrow pathway (no more than 3 feet wide) was barely navigable under the immense traffic flow. I was with two friends, who I feared for immediately. One in particular I knew may be in danger of a severe panic attack. Perspiration, heat, and foreign odors followed us every inch. Every cabin we passed was dark and silent, each seat occupied by a passenger fast asleep. I remember looking backward and into my friend’s eyes. She was clearly agitated and uncomfortable with what we’d gotten ourselves into. The train eventually began moving and we were forced to make the most of what we had. Unfortunately what we had was barely enough breathing room for each of us. We were in Italy, none of us spoke the language, and we had a plane to catch early the next morning. Even if an alternative existed, we had no way of finding it. So we rode the train.
I placed a small piece of luggage underneath me and propped it up as a chair; the hall was so thin my kneecaps pressed against the opposite wall. My right thigh rested on my companion’s leg, and my left leaned on that of a stranger’s. We had eight hours ahead of us and falling asleep wasn’t really an option. I knew I could make it; I knew I’d have to. I’m great at seeing the glass half full, shedding light on the bright side and uncovering the optimism, in even the most compromising of situations. And I knew that my friends, at least those who traveled with me, weren’t always so wide eyed under these circumstances. It was important to stay collected and confident if only for my companion’s to see. Motivation is often key in times like these.
About half way through we exited the train for a ten-minute stop in Florence. The warm air felt like ice against my burning skin. I saw my friend approaching me, and I knew immediately what was coming. Her limit. She had reached her breaking point. I know now that there are times when reaching your limit doesn’t always mean the end. It just means that you can’t necessarily do it alone. I gave her a hug. She’d been squeezed between two unhygienic Italian men who’d been kind with their words but forward with their eyes. It was enough to make her feel even more uncomfortable than leaning on a window for four hours already had. When we boarded the train again I stayed close to her. My situation wasn’t much different, yet being a man I was spared any unsavory stares. I tried to talk her through the rest of our journey, about everything and anything that was better than that moment, all the places we’d seen, and were going to see. And eventually we made it.
Looking back, it was certainly the most compromising situation I’d ever been in, both mentally and physically. And what got me through it was nothing short of confidence and communication. Once I was able to secure those two elements, motivating those around me came easy. Perhaps it’s a recipe for a sticky situation, but I believe it be a formula fit for any given day.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
My Abbey Road
Did you ever have one of those days when you can't help but think about someone from the past? Today's one of those days. It used to take a lot more for these sirens to sound; the way a word is spoken, a product on a shelf. But now, thanks to facebook, yesterday's recollection is merely news on the feed. It lies in a chain of other updates and amendments. And it's odd just to think any of those other updates might spark the heart of someone else. There are people who de-friend. But that isn't me. De-friend, to me, can be as loud as hate. What a curiously uncomfortable thought to think that someone could hurt me so badly that I might expel them from every last wire and list. Of course I haven't been hurt as such, and thus cannot cast shame on those who have. So for now, all I can say, is I hope I never have to.
But this person - they're haunting me. It's not that I feel the way I once did (or didn't, ironically). It's simply that they're crossing my mind. And for some reason my red halting hand has flashed away to a waltzing white figure, shouting for this person to come to the other side. And just like Abbey Road, they're frozen in place - the cover of today's album. And in this billboard-charting moment, forcing that person to reach the other side appears to be as impossible as forgetting "Come Together." I suppose, in this case, that it's not about forgetting.
Maybe it's about listening. Maybe it's about hearing what they have to say. Seeing their status, feeling my reaction. Maybe it’s about that.
I'll let this record play till you cross my mind. And if it never stops, perhaps I'll walk it with you.
But this person - they're haunting me. It's not that I feel the way I once did (or didn't, ironically). It's simply that they're crossing my mind. And for some reason my red halting hand has flashed away to a waltzing white figure, shouting for this person to come to the other side. And just like Abbey Road, they're frozen in place - the cover of today's album. And in this billboard-charting moment, forcing that person to reach the other side appears to be as impossible as forgetting "Come Together." I suppose, in this case, that it's not about forgetting.
Maybe it's about listening. Maybe it's about hearing what they have to say. Seeing their status, feeling my reaction. Maybe it’s about that.
I'll let this record play till you cross my mind. And if it never stops, perhaps I'll walk it with you.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Perfectly Weird Yesterdays
One year ago today, I landed in Athens. It wasn't a long flight, just a quick 2 or 3 hours from Munich actually, but the anticipation was unbearable. I had spent two weeks exploring Western Europe and now I was soaring to the other half of the continent. I can vividly recall the bus ride from the airport into the center of the city. And to be honest, it wasn't the prettiest thing I'd ever seen. Dilapidated apartment buildings, abandoned cars along the rode, graffiti everywhere. Any expectations or mental portraits of where I'd be living quickly vanished. I had no idea what to think. Every hill we approached, I leaned forward in anticipation, thinking maybe, just maybe, the Acropolis would break the horizon. It didn't happen so smoothly. One turn after another, urban slum would collide with timeless beauty. I think the city as a whole, defines the word ironic. The closer we got, the more I realized how different this place was - than anywhere I'd been, including other parts of Europe.
When I did first see the Acropolis, it was from my doorstep. That was today, 2008.
Athens is weird. In a beautiful, distinctive, and extraordinary kind of way. When it came to culture, it was the richest city I'd ever been to. When it came to history, it was the oldest city I'd ever been to. And when it came to splendor, it was the most unexpected city I'd ever experienced. It was full of more secrets than the average tourist could ever have time to uncover. The roads were quirky, the people impractical, and the infrastructure often incomplete. I loved it.
Tonight, I'm having dinner at a little Greek restaurant in New Paltz with two of my closest friends I left Athens with. We'll try our hardest to replay the past, but that's the most we can do. I don't like to dwell on all that I miss, but today, more than usual, I can let myself feel it.
When I did first see the Acropolis, it was from my doorstep. That was today, 2008.
Athens is weird. In a beautiful, distinctive, and extraordinary kind of way. When it came to culture, it was the richest city I'd ever been to. When it came to history, it was the oldest city I'd ever been to. And when it came to splendor, it was the most unexpected city I'd ever experienced. It was full of more secrets than the average tourist could ever have time to uncover. The roads were quirky, the people impractical, and the infrastructure often incomplete. I loved it.
Tonight, I'm having dinner at a little Greek restaurant in New Paltz with two of my closest friends I left Athens with. We'll try our hardest to replay the past, but that's the most we can do. I don't like to dwell on all that I miss, but today, more than usual, I can let myself feel it.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Underground Ketchup Dispensers in New Jersey
I saw The Unionn again Friday night at the Village Underground. Unbelievable. I was literally steps away from boarding my train back to Poughkeepsie that afternoon when my phone rang. It was my housemate Alex - and he was coming down to meet me. Earlier in the week, a plan of this sort was mentioned, but swept under the couch pretty quickly. Thankfully the plans weren't killed altogether, and we had a more than acceptable excuse to head downtown. I guess I should mention that Alex's old boss from Dublin was in the city on holiday with his girlfriend, and they contacted him rather last minute to meet up. They wanted him to pick a place. Being the New Hampshire kid he is, and hearing me glorify The Unionn over and over again, he went with my advice and had them meet us there. I was ecstatic to go. I was even more happy when I realized how much our two guests were loving the ensemble. By mid first song they were center of the dance floor, and by the end of the last song, they'd yet to move. His boss' girlfriend, Michelle, actually asked me if I read her mind when I recommended The Unionn. I laughed and said no, fingers crossed of course.
My two friends, Anna and Allison, who I hadn't seen in about a month, also met us there. I told them I was heading to the Underground on a whim, and their envy got the best of 'em. I cannot explain how infectious this music is. You know how some guys hate to dance? And some girls I suppose too? Well, imagine if their was some sort of sound that could not only make them tap their heels to the floor, but could actually peel them off of their seats and relocate them to the middle of a steamy basement dance floor. That my friends, is The Unionn. Okay, I'm done raving.
Saturday was a Ketchup day. One of those days where you find someone you haven't spent sufficient time with in the past few days or weeks, and take them out to lunch. Nowhere fancy, something cozy. Like a diner. Or a cafe. You sit down, spill the milk, and ketchup with one another. There's really nothing like it, except for mustard days of course, but I won't get into those for Mike's sake.
Today I went to Jersey for the same reason I've entered the state the last dozen times, to see This Condition. Now we've all heard jokes about the dirty Jers a million times, but today I compiled a mental spreadsheet of all the reasons New Jersey isn't THAT bad.
1. Gas stations. So you're telling me I can get my gas cheaper than usual, AND stay seated??? I'll ride my gas light over state lines any day for that deal.
2. Six Flags. For any thrill seekers in the tristate area, this is probably where you find your fill. Crowded and overpriced, maybe, but worth it when played strategically.
3. WaWa. Delicious custom made sandwiches. I think enough's been said.
4. Colby's house. Any Italian family who'll have food waiting for me at 1 in the morning and give me a place to stay is more than okay with me.
5. The shore. I may have grown out of the novelty just a bit, but there's not much that compare's to a hectic summer boardwalk with games, prizes, rides, and mini golf just off the sand.
6. Grande Soy Latte. It's where I found my new Starbucks regular - gotta give it to the essence.
7. Rest stops. I genuinely enjoy rest stops. It's the one place where I lift my ban on fast food, and marvel at America's tackiest families. I love roadtrips, and this is a huge reason why.
8. A necessary armpit. Lots of us have heard Jersey be called the armpit of the United States. But not so many of us realize how essential that "pit" really is. If it wasn't for New Jersey, New York would border Pennsylvania. And if that was to be, that would be weird to me.
9. Elks Lodges & VFWs. I may be a long way off from Elk of the Month, but I can still appreciate their establishments, if not for the post-retirement socialization, then for serving as a reliable punk scene venue.
10. The Land of Make Believe. I'm not sure where or how this fits in, but I think it's wonderful that someplace with this name exists. Plus, I grew up seeing the same exact commercial for it everyday till I turned fifteen and stopped watching One Saturday Morning.
*Yes I just wrote a pro-Jersey list that did not include Bon Jovi. Suck it.
Lucky Monday...
My two friends, Anna and Allison, who I hadn't seen in about a month, also met us there. I told them I was heading to the Underground on a whim, and their envy got the best of 'em. I cannot explain how infectious this music is. You know how some guys hate to dance? And some girls I suppose too? Well, imagine if their was some sort of sound that could not only make them tap their heels to the floor, but could actually peel them off of their seats and relocate them to the middle of a steamy basement dance floor. That my friends, is The Unionn. Okay, I'm done raving.
Saturday was a Ketchup day. One of those days where you find someone you haven't spent sufficient time with in the past few days or weeks, and take them out to lunch. Nowhere fancy, something cozy. Like a diner. Or a cafe. You sit down, spill the milk, and ketchup with one another. There's really nothing like it, except for mustard days of course, but I won't get into those for Mike's sake.
Today I went to Jersey for the same reason I've entered the state the last dozen times, to see This Condition. Now we've all heard jokes about the dirty Jers a million times, but today I compiled a mental spreadsheet of all the reasons New Jersey isn't THAT bad.
1. Gas stations. So you're telling me I can get my gas cheaper than usual, AND stay seated??? I'll ride my gas light over state lines any day for that deal.
2. Six Flags. For any thrill seekers in the tristate area, this is probably where you find your fill. Crowded and overpriced, maybe, but worth it when played strategically.
3. WaWa. Delicious custom made sandwiches. I think enough's been said.
4. Colby's house. Any Italian family who'll have food waiting for me at 1 in the morning and give me a place to stay is more than okay with me.
5. The shore. I may have grown out of the novelty just a bit, but there's not much that compare's to a hectic summer boardwalk with games, prizes, rides, and mini golf just off the sand.
6. Grande Soy Latte. It's where I found my new Starbucks regular - gotta give it to the essence.
7. Rest stops. I genuinely enjoy rest stops. It's the one place where I lift my ban on fast food, and marvel at America's tackiest families. I love roadtrips, and this is a huge reason why.
8. A necessary armpit. Lots of us have heard Jersey be called the armpit of the United States. But not so many of us realize how essential that "pit" really is. If it wasn't for New Jersey, New York would border Pennsylvania. And if that was to be, that would be weird to me.
9. Elks Lodges & VFWs. I may be a long way off from Elk of the Month, but I can still appreciate their establishments, if not for the post-retirement socialization, then for serving as a reliable punk scene venue.
10. The Land of Make Believe. I'm not sure where or how this fits in, but I think it's wonderful that someplace with this name exists. Plus, I grew up seeing the same exact commercial for it everyday till I turned fifteen and stopped watching One Saturday Morning.
*Yes I just wrote a pro-Jersey list that did not include Bon Jovi. Suck it.
Lucky Monday...
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Google It.
Conversations
climb over mountains.
They begin with that look,
that genuine look of interest.
Without that look it's not really
a conversation. "Converse" is a very
delicate word. It assumes a vested interest.
A desire to hear the answer to your question,
a drive to tell your story. Conversations have a
depth. It may be shallow, a kiddy pool even, but
there's certainly a submergence into a greater thought.
These thoughts that need to be understood, that need to
be vocalized, if only for your own reassurance. Yet every
conversation reaches it's peak. That moment when
everything you needed to hear, all the solutions
you were fishing for...surfaced. It's sort of like
real life Google. Maybe you already know
what you're searching for. Maybe you
don't. Maybe your just checking the
weather. Or maybe you're the
engine, and someone else is
searching you for all the
answers. Either way,
once it is found, or
once you've made
peace, you climb
down. All the
way down.
Till you
smile.
climb over mountains.
They begin with that look,
that genuine look of interest.
Without that look it's not really
a conversation. "Converse" is a very
delicate word. It assumes a vested interest.
A desire to hear the answer to your question,
a drive to tell your story. Conversations have a
depth. It may be shallow, a kiddy pool even, but
there's certainly a submergence into a greater thought.
These thoughts that need to be understood, that need to
be vocalized, if only for your own reassurance. Yet every
conversation reaches it's peak. That moment when
everything you needed to hear, all the solutions
you were fishing for...surfaced. It's sort of like
real life Google. Maybe you already know
what you're searching for. Maybe you
don't. Maybe your just checking the
weather. Or maybe you're the
engine, and someone else is
searching you for all the
answers. Either way,
once it is found, or
once you've made
peace, you climb
down. All the
way down.
Till you
smile.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Celebrity Status
This morning was a bit difficult to get going. As my first alarm began chiming at 5:50 a.m., I actually contemplated if it was acceptable or not to bring my orange pillow onto the train with me. I opted to put that thought aside at around 6:10. Clearly it was a tough decision. The morning does have its bright sides. For instance, I had taken a shower the night before, so the uncomfortably cold walk from bedroom to bathroom was actually avoidable today. Mornings never seem to get "easy" for me. Thankfully I take responsibility seriously enough that there's never much of a fight, though I do avoid getting into the ring almost every day.
As usual the next two hours or so become a blur of commuter repetition. At about 8:20 I emerged into the chaotic concourse of Grand Central, and headed for "my" Starbucks. I feel incredibly warranted to call it my Starbucks, today more than ever. As I approached the counter, a young girl yelled out to me "Grande Soy Latte, right?" She must've caught my flattered expression, because not more than a moment later she smiled and called out to me again. "You're at celebrity status now. You don't have to say a thing." I was impressed. I only come in twice a week, and I've only been to this location the past few weeks. That's about five or six separate instances, and yet she already considered me a regular, a celebrity even. It may just be a Starbucks, but hey, it feels good to be noticed.
I guess that was the highlight of my day today. It'll do, I suppose. In fact, it definitely does do. I was happy about it. The same sort of contentness I felt when I got off the subway a bit later on. I was listening to Jack's Mannequinn's "Spinning" and I swear it seemed like today's current was swimming to it's beat. It's funny how some days just move the right way.
Moving along,
Timmy
As usual the next two hours or so become a blur of commuter repetition. At about 8:20 I emerged into the chaotic concourse of Grand Central, and headed for "my" Starbucks. I feel incredibly warranted to call it my Starbucks, today more than ever. As I approached the counter, a young girl yelled out to me "Grande Soy Latte, right?" She must've caught my flattered expression, because not more than a moment later she smiled and called out to me again. "You're at celebrity status now. You don't have to say a thing." I was impressed. I only come in twice a week, and I've only been to this location the past few weeks. That's about five or six separate instances, and yet she already considered me a regular, a celebrity even. It may just be a Starbucks, but hey, it feels good to be noticed.
I guess that was the highlight of my day today. It'll do, I suppose. In fact, it definitely does do. I was happy about it. The same sort of contentness I felt when I got off the subway a bit later on. I was listening to Jack's Mannequinn's "Spinning" and I swear it seemed like today's current was swimming to it's beat. It's funny how some days just move the right way.
Moving along,
Timmy
Thursday, February 5, 2009
A familiar taste.
Whoa. It's been way too long since we've last chatted. Actually, I take that back. It's my fault. It's been way too long since I last posted. My apologies. It's been one of those weeks that goes by faster than you had time to check the date. Suddenly it's Thursday, and lots of us have already expired. Black history month is in full swing, candy hearts are stocking the shelves, yet we've barely had time to adjust putting the 9 after the 2-0-0-. Inevitability, a bitch ain't it?
I can hardly identify why it went so fast other than the monotony of classes, commuting, and a taste of socialization. In fact, if it wasn't for last night, I probably couldn't distinguish this week from the last.
Dinner Party, round 2. Oh jeez. It was me who really wanted to make it happen. It had been way too long since I'd seen my winter-break life in action. On Monday I even discussed the menu with Ricky. I got approval from the host (Nate), and proceeded to finalize plans with Ricky. All was set...or so it seemed. I went to work Wednesday morning content as ever. I knew I had great night ahead of me, and I was under the impression all arrangements were set.
Text #1. 10:41 am. Ricky: "Are we having dinner at nates or did you make that up"
Text #2. 11:33 am. Nate: "Whats the dealio with tnight?"
Clearly things were not so set in everyone else's minds. I texted back the appropriate responses and extinguished all these small flames. Ricky was instructed to retrieve the groceries, while I take care of wine and dessert. In other words, an identical game plan to dinner party round 1.
6:53. I'm early. Nate's not even home from work yet. It's cold. I call Nathen. He says to give him 10 minutes. I place my bags on his stoop and clench my fists inside my coat pockets. His upstairs neighbors emerge, startled by the hoodlum gracing their doorstep. The second girl struggles to lock the door. Something isn't working for her. As she grows frustrated, I feel the need to smooth over my "voyeristic" identity, so I tell her I'm simply waiting for Nate, her neighbor, to get home. She says that it's fine, that she hates this door, or her keys rather, I'm not sure which was to blame. Eventually she prevails though, and flees off to her preheated car.
7:10. Nate's three minutes later than he'd promised, but nonetheless, he's here, and I'm frigid. Inside, he flusters by the door and I'm left to navigate the hallway in the dark. The hall seemed narrower than I remembered, and I could barely walk a few feet before I questioned the right direction.
I can't recall any specific minutes after that. I suppose those I could remember were frozen in mind from the cold. Ricky eventually arrived, with Jay, Andre, Nicky, T.J., and Dylan (Colin arrived later on). She acted as if the evening was speratic. That she hadn't known about it until this morning. Like the long discussion we had just 48 hours prior about breaded chicken in a mustard and orange sauce was just my imagination. Bull Shit.
She's lucky I love waffles. She didn't bring the chicken or any of the ingredients even remotely associated with breaded chicken in a mustard and orange sauce. None of it. Instead she brought Aunt Jemima's pantry and a carton of eggs. Thankfully, I was more than okay with breakfast for dinner. Since befriending these kids, I've grown a taste for waffles past noon. And while I was thrilled for the evening sunrise, I felt bad for my little box of pastries. Let's face it, breakfast is one of those meals where you legitimatley don't have room for dessert. I tried passing the canoli's off as an appetizer, but that was no more successful than a popsicle in the sun.
Thanks to Ricky and Andre, the food turned out fantastic. I stacked the waffles, thank you very much. We watched Alladin as we ate, and matched certain friends with their cartoon counterparts. My favorite was DOB as Lago the parrot.
In other events of the night, we all became video-stars. Keep an eye out for a 9 person collaboration of Kelly Clarkson's "My Life Would Suck Without You." Truly epic. By midnight we were slowly draining out of Nate's basement. Given the hour, I actually wouldn't have minded just heading home, and dealing with the train in the morning. Yet the thought of not only waking up my family members, but gracing them with my surprise visit, was a bit much to fathom. I opted to stick to the plan and catch a train back to Poughkeepsie.
By 3:15 I was back in my own bed. I'd spent the last 2 hours being shaken awake by sudden jolts and a conductor letting me know it was in fact the last stop. I felt like such a nomad, yet contrary to past scenarios like this in my life, I was coming and going from places I knew, and people I loved.
Today was a bit exhausting. A late night, followed by a day filled with classes and meetings. By the time I hit the gym, my ambitions were clearly ahead of my body. I'm about ready to collapse into my bed as of now, so I think I will. I have to get up in just 4 hours to intern again, yet I couldn't fall asleep without saying all this. So there. I've posted, you'll read it, and I can shut my eyes.
I can hardly identify why it went so fast other than the monotony of classes, commuting, and a taste of socialization. In fact, if it wasn't for last night, I probably couldn't distinguish this week from the last.
Dinner Party, round 2. Oh jeez. It was me who really wanted to make it happen. It had been way too long since I'd seen my winter-break life in action. On Monday I even discussed the menu with Ricky. I got approval from the host (Nate), and proceeded to finalize plans with Ricky. All was set...or so it seemed. I went to work Wednesday morning content as ever. I knew I had great night ahead of me, and I was under the impression all arrangements were set.
Text #1. 10:41 am. Ricky: "Are we having dinner at nates or did you make that up"
Text #2. 11:33 am. Nate: "Whats the dealio with tnight?"
Clearly things were not so set in everyone else's minds. I texted back the appropriate responses and extinguished all these small flames. Ricky was instructed to retrieve the groceries, while I take care of wine and dessert. In other words, an identical game plan to dinner party round 1.
6:53. I'm early. Nate's not even home from work yet. It's cold. I call Nathen. He says to give him 10 minutes. I place my bags on his stoop and clench my fists inside my coat pockets. His upstairs neighbors emerge, startled by the hoodlum gracing their doorstep. The second girl struggles to lock the door. Something isn't working for her. As she grows frustrated, I feel the need to smooth over my "voyeristic" identity, so I tell her I'm simply waiting for Nate, her neighbor, to get home. She says that it's fine, that she hates this door, or her keys rather, I'm not sure which was to blame. Eventually she prevails though, and flees off to her preheated car.
7:10. Nate's three minutes later than he'd promised, but nonetheless, he's here, and I'm frigid. Inside, he flusters by the door and I'm left to navigate the hallway in the dark. The hall seemed narrower than I remembered, and I could barely walk a few feet before I questioned the right direction.
I can't recall any specific minutes after that. I suppose those I could remember were frozen in mind from the cold. Ricky eventually arrived, with Jay, Andre, Nicky, T.J., and Dylan (Colin arrived later on). She acted as if the evening was speratic. That she hadn't known about it until this morning. Like the long discussion we had just 48 hours prior about breaded chicken in a mustard and orange sauce was just my imagination. Bull Shit.
She's lucky I love waffles. She didn't bring the chicken or any of the ingredients even remotely associated with breaded chicken in a mustard and orange sauce. None of it. Instead she brought Aunt Jemima's pantry and a carton of eggs. Thankfully, I was more than okay with breakfast for dinner. Since befriending these kids, I've grown a taste for waffles past noon. And while I was thrilled for the evening sunrise, I felt bad for my little box of pastries. Let's face it, breakfast is one of those meals where you legitimatley don't have room for dessert. I tried passing the canoli's off as an appetizer, but that was no more successful than a popsicle in the sun.
Thanks to Ricky and Andre, the food turned out fantastic. I stacked the waffles, thank you very much. We watched Alladin as we ate, and matched certain friends with their cartoon counterparts. My favorite was DOB as Lago the parrot.
In other events of the night, we all became video-stars. Keep an eye out for a 9 person collaboration of Kelly Clarkson's "My Life Would Suck Without You." Truly epic. By midnight we were slowly draining out of Nate's basement. Given the hour, I actually wouldn't have minded just heading home, and dealing with the train in the morning. Yet the thought of not only waking up my family members, but gracing them with my surprise visit, was a bit much to fathom. I opted to stick to the plan and catch a train back to Poughkeepsie.
By 3:15 I was back in my own bed. I'd spent the last 2 hours being shaken awake by sudden jolts and a conductor letting me know it was in fact the last stop. I felt like such a nomad, yet contrary to past scenarios like this in my life, I was coming and going from places I knew, and people I loved.
Today was a bit exhausting. A late night, followed by a day filled with classes and meetings. By the time I hit the gym, my ambitions were clearly ahead of my body. I'm about ready to collapse into my bed as of now, so I think I will. I have to get up in just 4 hours to intern again, yet I couldn't fall asleep without saying all this. So there. I've posted, you'll read it, and I can shut my eyes.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Super Sunday
Hellooooo Monday!
Superbowl Sunday had so many bits and pieces to look forward to. You've got the actual football game. You've got the commercials to critique. You've got the half-time show extravaganza. You've got the "right after the game" premiere (The Office). And finally, you've got the FOOD. It's even more eventful than Thanksgiving in a lot of ways. This year, the day couldn't have been spent any better. I was home with the housemates, eating the food we all played a part in creating, and laughing about whatever came into our minds. It was cozy to say the least. Here's a look at our bowl-worthy menu:
Trail Mix by yours truly
Pizza from Giacomo's - ordered by Steve
MAC-govern & Cheese
Kristen and Mike's Guacamole & Salsa
Pierce's Peanut Butter Balls
Chips/Pretzels/Tostitos (various contributors)
Cupcakes via Mama Gruebel
And finally: Kate's extraordinary HOT wings (3 hours in the making; worth every nibble)
By the end I was in that 'past-out on the couch' position, wondering how I fit everything into my stomach. I must say, it was an exceptional display of gluttony.
In terms of commercials, I thought we had some classics in there, along with a few duds. The two that pop into my mind right away are the "Free Doritos" campaign and Pepsi's "Forever Young." The Doritos ad was especially buzz worthy since the commercial's concept was created by a contest-winner, and not your typical creative team. The promotional stunt seemed well worth it, landing Doritos at the top of many critic's lists. Unfortunately, true success can only be measured by sales in the ad world.
Pepsi brought their new logo and look into full circle yesterday with their commercial. The inter-generation comparisons were a great creative execution, especially against big-time competitor coca-cola. The vintage and classic tone was literally swept out from under coke's feet, one might say. I enjoyed it, but then again I've always preferred Pepsi.
I guess I should say a word about the half time show. How about...'Boss'? Ironically, that term came into use again during The Office, but I won't get into that. Bruce Springstein did a great job entertaining all ages, yet making it quite clear he wasn't 30 anymore. From his mic-stand back dip that kept him down for a solid 30 seconds to his stage-slide that landed his crotch in the camera lens, it was clear he hadn't pulled those moves in quite a few years - yet it was completely worth it. I was especially humored by his exclamation at the end of his set: "I'm going to Disney World!" It used to just be the winning team who got to say that phrase, but apparently half-time performers are also warranted to announce their vacation destinations from the fity yard line. Why not?
Lastly, congratulations to all you Steeler's fans out there. I had no real preference, except for a good game - and I definitely got that. Until next year...
Superbowl Sunday had so many bits and pieces to look forward to. You've got the actual football game. You've got the commercials to critique. You've got the half-time show extravaganza. You've got the "right after the game" premiere (The Office). And finally, you've got the FOOD. It's even more eventful than Thanksgiving in a lot of ways. This year, the day couldn't have been spent any better. I was home with the housemates, eating the food we all played a part in creating, and laughing about whatever came into our minds. It was cozy to say the least. Here's a look at our bowl-worthy menu:
Trail Mix by yours truly
Pizza from Giacomo's - ordered by Steve
MAC-govern & Cheese
Kristen and Mike's Guacamole & Salsa
Pierce's Peanut Butter Balls
Chips/Pretzels/Tostitos (various contributors)
Cupcakes via Mama Gruebel
And finally: Kate's extraordinary HOT wings (3 hours in the making; worth every nibble)
By the end I was in that 'past-out on the couch' position, wondering how I fit everything into my stomach. I must say, it was an exceptional display of gluttony.
In terms of commercials, I thought we had some classics in there, along with a few duds. The two that pop into my mind right away are the "Free Doritos" campaign and Pepsi's "Forever Young." The Doritos ad was especially buzz worthy since the commercial's concept was created by a contest-winner, and not your typical creative team. The promotional stunt seemed well worth it, landing Doritos at the top of many critic's lists. Unfortunately, true success can only be measured by sales in the ad world.
Pepsi brought their new logo and look into full circle yesterday with their commercial. The inter-generation comparisons were a great creative execution, especially against big-time competitor coca-cola. The vintage and classic tone was literally swept out from under coke's feet, one might say. I enjoyed it, but then again I've always preferred Pepsi.
I guess I should say a word about the half time show. How about...'Boss'? Ironically, that term came into use again during The Office, but I won't get into that. Bruce Springstein did a great job entertaining all ages, yet making it quite clear he wasn't 30 anymore. From his mic-stand back dip that kept him down for a solid 30 seconds to his stage-slide that landed his crotch in the camera lens, it was clear he hadn't pulled those moves in quite a few years - yet it was completely worth it. I was especially humored by his exclamation at the end of his set: "I'm going to Disney World!" It used to just be the winning team who got to say that phrase, but apparently half-time performers are also warranted to announce their vacation destinations from the fity yard line. Why not?
Lastly, congratulations to all you Steeler's fans out there. I had no real preference, except for a good game - and I definitely got that. Until next year...
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