I'm at a point in my life where I find myself constantly thinking about starting over in life and moving in a new direction.
People who are older than I am tend to believe I have plenty of time, but I can't help feeling that I need to make a move sooner rather than later. For me, time has become most precious, now more than ever.
Thus, as the days turn into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years--a perpetual sense of urgency to change direction and begin a new journey presses at the forefront of my thoughts. So, I frequently find myself hanging out in book stores, reading, drinking espressos, and lingering around the store in deep contemplation.
Today, as I sipped on my Doppio Espresso, I was thinking about a quote that's attributed to F. Scott Fitzgerald, which I've heard and read a few times from various sources. I've heard it once in a movie that I love (Purple Violets), but mostly, I've read it in various places online.
The quote is: "There are no second acts in American lives..."
Most often, it's only used in a context which is supposed to prove that the assumed meaning behind the quote is incorrect. But as I sat there working things out in my mind, thinking about my life and what my second act could be, the quote kept popping up in my brain.
I thought to myself:
"There's no way that's true! It can't be." I figured if you're lucky enough to live long enough to try, then it can be done. Heck, it has been done by many. Now, I happen to love reading Fitzgerald's work; mostly for his prose, first and foremost.
Just from what I know of his work, I couldn't imagine he would really believe that. So I decided to dig a little deeper into the issue. I found a link to a piece written in 1995 by Earle Palmer Browne about the quote for the American Journalism Review. In it, he points out that "not only did Fitzgerald never publish the line--it was found out of context in a mishmash of jottings for his unfinished novel, The Last Tycoon--but that it's possible the phrase 'second act' has to do with the old three-act plays of the time, and thus the quote could mean that there are no transition periods in the hectic lives of Americans."
That could very well be the idea that sparked the unpublished line. Only Fitzgerald knew for sure.
One thing I do know is that I would love to start over--not only from a career perspective, but with life in general. In reality, it would actually be more like I'm getting a late start, but in essence it's the same thing. If I am anything, I am certainly a late-bloomer (assuming I'll eventually blossom); and judging by this interesting piece in the New Yorker from October 2008, there is hope after all from a career/occupational perspective.
Three things from that article that gave me reason to stay optimistic:
"Forty-two per cent of [Robert] Frost’s anthologized poems were written after the age of fifty."
"Mark Twain published Adventures of Huckleberry Finn at forty-nine."
"Daniel Defoe wrote Robinson Crusoe at fifty-eight."
There are actually many, many different examples, but in reading this piece, those examples stood out to me. While I'm on the subject, I should mention that during my visit to Barnes and Noble today, I grabbed one of the books that caught my eye as I walked around. It was called Late Bloomers by Brendan Gill.
I gathered a few more books (I can never pick just one), then got a muffin with some coffee. As I sat quietly drinking espresso in my little two-seat bistro table, I initially scanned the pages for interesting stories that might inspire me.
People watching is a spectator hobby of mine that I often indulge wherever I am. In between moments of reading and drinking espresso, I occasionally looked up to observe my surroundings. I lifted my eyes as a thirty-something year-old mother shuffled by with her young daughter in arms. The little girl couldn't have been more than 3-4 years-old, but as soon as I looked up, there she was, with a big, shinning, adorable smile on her face.
She was just smiling at me as if she was so happy and excited to see me, for no particular reason. I don't know about you, but seeing such a sweet and innocent face light up to smile at me that way is a sure way to brighten my day. It's the little things that often matter the most, and sometimes, they can truly make your day better.
I grinned back at her with the same enthusiastically genuine smile that she gave me--which was a gift from the angels, I concluded. As I digested the moment with an unexpected appreciation, I placed my cup back on the table with what felt like a content expression on my face. I sat back in my chair, and took a second look to see if the little one was still within view, when I heard the voice of an older gentleman sitting directly across from me.
"Late Bloomers, that looks interesting."
He was an older man, older than me anyway. Somewhere in his late fifties or early sixties. His face was similar to some of the old black-and-white photos I've seen of Red Cloud, a Native American chief of the Sioux from the 1800s. He had an indomitable and astute presence about him, yet his tone was friendly and affable. His shoulder-length, black hair was straight and peppered with gray streaks. His face had a light golden-brown glow to it, with the types of wrinkles around his eyes that you get from spending a lot of time squinting in the sun.
He spoke at a even pace, like a man with plenty of time on his hands and no reason to hurry. In fact, he had a captivating way of delivering his words, deliberately pausing between sentences. I sensed that this man was probably a great story-teller.
"Ah, yes. I, uh... I'm thinking of making some life changes, and thought this might spark some motivation and encouragement. I'm kind of a late bloomer myself," I responded.
He looked at me, nodded his head in acknowledgment, and said, "I can see in your face that you're not only relating to the book quite well, but judging by your facial expression, you seemed both determined and concerned."
"Yeah, it's uh... it's been on my mind quite a bit lately," I said.
"I've known many people who were what you might call 'late bloomers' myself," he responded. "But if you don't mind me saying, don't beat yourself up about it too much." He continued, "You appear to be laboring under a misconception that our culture seems to constantly beat into our heads: that one must somehow be amazingly successful and wealthy before they hit their 30s. Especially men."
He paused for a moment to drink his hot tea, and continued, "I remember speaking of this with old friends when I was much younger. Success comes in many forms, and it used to be something that was expected by the time you reached your late forties; but the bar seems to be getting higher and the age expectation seems to keep getting younger and younger as the years go by. It's a very destructive meme. Along the lines of the 'eternal beauty' nonsense that women have to endure."
I sat in silence for a moment, having just had a stranger put the issue into an excellent perspective for me. I looked at his wise, gray eyes and nodded in agreement, then thanked him for sharing his thoughts. I decided to close the book, put it down on the table, and continue my conversation with the stranger who reminded me of Red Cloud.
Feeling as though a heavy weight had been lifted off my shoulders, at least for the moment, my mind was cleared of trouble. I no longer needed the book for encouragement, and I was able to sit back in my chair and simply enjoy the moment for what it was:
A relaxing moment in a book store with angels in my midst.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Monday, October 5, 2009
Coming Up for Air!
It's been about 2.5 weeks since I returned from my trip to NYC, and I'm really just now starting to come out of the recovery of returning to South Florida.
The first thing I needed when I returned was time to rest, as my body was literally pushed to its limits while I was in The City. I came home exhausted, both mentally and physically. But, I was determined to squeeze everything I could out of my time there.
I had an overwhelming desire to experience each day to the fullest. It was like not being satisfied with a bone-in-ribeye steak, but also wanting to suck the marrow out of the bone; and I very much wanted to suck the marrow out of my time there. I think I literally must have walked the equivalent of at least 50 miles. By the second day, my left calf was cramping badly and I could barely walk; but I still pressed on.
I snapped off about 800+ photos in 4 days. About half of those were probably duplicates, though. I like to take several shots of each subject, just in case. Check the photo stream on the top right to see them. So far I have about half uploaded.
I also returned to work with over 200+ emails to read and/or respond to and follow-up on. Between my recovery and trying to catch up on work, it's been a crazy busy few weeks! I'm actually still very busy with work, but I'm caught up just enough to take a moment and breathe. I'm currently in the middle of an intensive analysis for Operations Reviews on behalf of a few online travel sites. Without getting into it too much, part of what I do at my day job is to identify ways to improve business performance via data analysis and consultation. My responsibilities fall primarily within the Travel Industry.
Hopefully, I'll be able to post a few entries relating to my recent trip to Manhattan. Until then, enjoy the photos!
The first thing I needed when I returned was time to rest, as my body was literally pushed to its limits while I was in The City. I came home exhausted, both mentally and physically. But, I was determined to squeeze everything I could out of my time there.
I had an overwhelming desire to experience each day to the fullest. It was like not being satisfied with a bone-in-ribeye steak, but also wanting to suck the marrow out of the bone; and I very much wanted to suck the marrow out of my time there. I think I literally must have walked the equivalent of at least 50 miles. By the second day, my left calf was cramping badly and I could barely walk; but I still pressed on.
I snapped off about 800+ photos in 4 days. About half of those were probably duplicates, though. I like to take several shots of each subject, just in case. Check the photo stream on the top right to see them. So far I have about half uploaded.
I also returned to work with over 200+ emails to read and/or respond to and follow-up on. Between my recovery and trying to catch up on work, it's been a crazy busy few weeks! I'm actually still very busy with work, but I'm caught up just enough to take a moment and breathe. I'm currently in the middle of an intensive analysis for Operations Reviews on behalf of a few online travel sites. Without getting into it too much, part of what I do at my day job is to identify ways to improve business performance via data analysis and consultation. My responsibilities fall primarily within the Travel Industry.
Hopefully, I'll be able to post a few entries relating to my recent trip to Manhattan. Until then, enjoy the photos!
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Escape From Suh-bore-bia: My Mecca Beckons
"Every true New Yorker believes with all his heart that when a New Yorker is tired of New York, he is tired of life." -Robert Moses
Well, it's that time again. New York City, here I come! I'm as giddy as a kid on Christmas Eve who's going to Disney World the next day.
I'm so ready for this.
I need this! I've been waiting too long to go on a vacation. I will definitely not miss Suh-Bore-Bia, that's for sure! A buddy of mine is going with me, and I want to show him a piece of as many Manhattan neighborhoods as I can. I suppose I'll share the itinerary, which is quite robust. Yes, there's a lot, but honestly, the last time I had just as much to do, and did almost all of it.
The real itinerary is more specific and itemized by day, but here's another version of our plans/options, which is broken out by neighborhood:
Upper East Side
• Central Park, The Mall and Literary Walk, Olmsted Flower Bed Mid-Park (from 66th to 72nd Streets)
• Conservatory Gardens, (open 10:00 am - 5:00 pm) At the Charles A. Dana Discovery Center (Upper East Side top of the Park, Inside the Park at 110th Street between Fifth and Lenox Avenues) http://www.centralparknyc.org/site/PageServer?pagename=virtualpark_southend_themall
• Guggenheim Museum (close to Central Park)
• Daniel French Cuisine, 60 E 65 Street, can reserve online too, 212-288-0033 4 star rating (Upper East Side by Central Park and Guggenheim), http://danielnyc.com/daniel.html
• Cigar Inn Lounge, 1314 1st Ave, New York, NY 10021 (212) 717-7403
Upper West Side
• Lunch at The Boathouse in Central Park http://www.thecentralparkboathouse.com/sections/home.htm
• Davidoff of Geneva (cigar lounge), Time Warner Center, 10 Columbus Cir., New York, NY 10019 at 59th St., 212-823-6383, http://nymag.com/listings/stores/davidoff_of_geneva02/
• DE LA CONCHA 1390 Avenue of the Americas Bet 56th and 57th Sts (just south of central park, central north mid-town) New York City, NY 10019 Tel 212.757.3167
• Le Bernardin Restaurant, reservations mandatory, 155 W 51st St New York, NY 10019 (212) 554-1515
• Broadway Comedy Club 318 W 53 Street (NorthWest Mid-Town, just south west of Central Park) : http://www.broadwaycomedyclub.com/
• Riverside Park on Riverside Drive. Gorgeous waterfront park stretched 4 miles alongside the Hudson River. http://www.nycgovparks.org/sub_your_park/vt_riverside_park/vt_riverside_park.html
• Terrace in the Sky Restaurant: view of the city while eating/drinking: http://www.terraceinthesky.com/
Mid Town
• Rockefeller Center, Top of ’The Rock’ the city’s only crystal-clear, 360° view of the city. Sunset at 6:56 PM that day. http://www.rockefellercenter.com/home.html (47th to 51st Streets between Fifth and Sixth Avenues). $18.00 buy tickets online: http://www.topoftherocknyc.com/tickets_landing.aspx
• ESB - At 6PM go to watch the sunset (btwn 6:55-6:59 PM that week) on the Empire State Building 350 5th Ave (between 33rd & 34th) (212) 736-3100. Observatory open 8AM - 2AM, 7 days a week, $17.61 + tax. http://esbnyc.com/index2.cfm
• Ayza Wine & Chocolate Bar 11 West 31st Street (very close to ESB): http://www.ayzanyc.com/
• Sunday September 13th Tudor City Festival (East side of Mid Town) on Lexington Avenue from 42nd - 57th
• Nat Sherman Cigars, Johnson Club Room (close to Bryant Park), 12 E 42nd St New York, NY 10017-6901 (212) 764-5000, http://www.natsherman.com/events.cfm?CFID=3605205&CFTOKEN=cc11351330d5bbc9-99E81DC3-19B9-F18B-2289D0671650915C
• Charlie Palmer’s Aureole, 42nd Street between Avenue of the Americas and Broadway, (by Bryant Park) http://www.charliepalmer.com/Properties/Aureole/NY/
• Beekman Bar & Books, 889 1st Ave New York@ 50th Street, NY 10022 (east side of mid-town, close to east river) (212) 758-6600, http://www.barandbooks.cz/
• Le Veau D'Or (Upper East side, close to central park, parallel to SE corner of park), 129 E 60th St, New York, NY - (212) 838-8133
Mid Town South
• Eisenberg Sandwich Shop (mid-town South Central by Madison Square Park) close to Flatiron building, 174 5th Ave, New York, NY - (212) 675-5096
• Anthony Bourdain’s Les Halles Midtown, 411 Park Ave South New York, NY 10016 (East Mid-Town just East of Madison Square Park) http://www.leshalles.net/ny_park.php
• MetroCafe & Wine Bar 32 E 21st St (close to Madison Square Park): http://www.metrocafenyc.com/index2.htm
• Blue Smoke (BBQ Ribs, Chicken, etc) 116 E 27th St (Mid-town Central, close to Madison Square Park between Park & Lexington)
• Eleven Madison Park (Wine & Dining) 11 Madison Ave (Mid Town Central by Madison Sqaure Park on 24th & Madison)
• Keen’s Steakhouse (central mid-town, few blocks south of Bryant park), 72 W 36th St, New York, NY - (212) 947-3636
• 230 5th Rooftop Garden: eat, drink with breathtaking views of the Empire State Building, the Chrysler Building and the Manhattan skyline. All guests must have valid id. Dress Code for Men: no shorts, baggy/torn or very worn out jeans, tank tops, sleeve less shirts. General Dress Code: no t-shirts with logos or pictures, sports jerseys, athletic wear, sandals, flip-flops and baseball caps/hats of any kind. 230 5th Ave (Mid Town Central, just North of Madison Square Park(212) 725-4300 http://www.230-fifth.com/
West Village/Meat Packing District
• The Highline. Visit the Highline and the park on it (Meatpacking District/West Village). The first portion of the three-section High Line, which runs near the Hudson River from Gansevoort Street to West 20th Street, will be open daily from 7 a.m. to 10 p.m. There are entrances at Gansevoort Street (stairs) and at 16th Street (elevator); exits are located every few blocks. Newly opened park, was once a railway system: http://www.thehighline.org/, http://www.nytimes.com/2009/07/22/nyregion/22highline.html?_r=1&ref=travel
• BAR AND BOOKS 636 Hudson Street @ Horatio Street, New York 10014 Tel.: 212 229 2642 Open daily 5.00 pm - 4.00 a.m
• Perry St., 176 Perry St. (Perry & Bleecker), 212-352-1900 (West Village by the Ports).
• One if by Land, Two if by Sea, 17 Barrow St, New York, NY - (212) 255-8649, (West Village close to hotel) http://nymag.com/bestofny/food/2006/steak/
• John's Pizza in the Village, 278 Bleeker St. between 6th & 7th Ave's (West Village, close to hotel), (cash only)
• Perilla 9 (close to hotel), 9 Jones St, New York, NY - (212) 929-6868 (West Village, very close to hotel), http://www.perillanyc.com/
• Florent Bistro: French bistro open 24 hours on weekends, 331 W 4th St, Jane St/8th Ave, 212-242-9502. http://cornerbistro.citysearch.com
• Sunset Cruise: http://www.zerve.com/SailNYC/ManSun
• Greenwich Village Comedy Club: Comedy Cellar, 117 MacDougal St & W 3rd/Bleecker St, 212-254-3480 (very close to hotel): http://comedycellar.com
• Magnolia Bakery 401 Bleecker St at W 11th St, New York, NY - (212) 462-2572 (West Village, slightly north), http://www.magnoliacupcakes.com/
Lower East Side/Downtown/Brooklyn
• Katz Deli, 205 E. Houston at Ludlow, tel. 212-254-2246, www.katzdeli.com.
• Bodies: The Exhibition (very close to the Brooklyn Bridge) 11 Fulton Street, New York, NY 10038: http://www.museumtix.com/venue/program.asp?pvt=&vid=741&pid=1394402&code=
• Walk across the Brooklyn Bridge. http://www.destination360.com/north-america/us/new-york/nyc/brooklyn-bridge.php
• Red Hook Lobster Pound: We do not sell Lobster Rolls yet at 284 Van Brunt St. We only sell lobster rolls at this time at the Brooklyn Flea in Ft Greene on Saturday from 11-5 and the Brooklyn Flea under the Brooklyn Bridge on Sundays from 11 to 6 WEATHER PERMITTING. If the weather is iffy, call 646 326 7650 and check and see if we are at the Flea. Also, we usually but not always, run out before 6. http://www.yelp.com/biz/red-hook-lobster-pound-brooklyn
Street Fairs:
• Saturday September 12th Gramercy Park Neighborhood Festival (on 3rd Avenue from 14th - 23rd Street)
• Sunday September 13th Tudor City Festival (on Lexington Avenue from 42nd - 57th)
• September 10-20, 2009 Indoor and outdoor dining at 35 of Little Italy's most famous Italian restaurants. More than 300 licensed street vendors selling international foods, official Feast of San Gennaro, New York City and Little Italy souvenirs. Every Parade will begin on Mulberry Street between Canal and Bayard Streets (One block south of Canal Street), and will proceed north along Mulberry Street to Houston Street, east along Houston for one block to Mott Street, south on Mott to Grand Street, and west on Grand to Baxter Street. http://www.sangennaro.org/event.htm
• Saturday, September 12, 2 PM -- Grand Procession with the Statue of San Gennaro will be carried from its permanent home in The Most Precious Blood Church through the streets of Little Italy. Street)
Photo Lesson/Tour:
• New York City Photo Walking Tours: Photo Walk-abouts are guided walking tours that focus on teaching participants to take better photos. After a brief lesson on photography, your guide will escort the group along the route, giving historical background on the sights along the way. All public tours are $20; cash only; No reservations are required; simply show up at the designated meeting location; Tours last approximately 2.5 hours; No reservations are required; Tours do not start and end in the same location; Tours run rain or shine (you can get some great photos in the rain) - call 917.557.3693 in the case of inclement weather: http://gonyc.about.com/gi/dynamic/offsite.htm?zi=1/XJ/Ya&sdn=gonyc&zu=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.photowalkabouts.com%2F\
o Greenwich Village - 10 am Saturdays, Meet Father Demo Square at 6th Ave and Bleecker: http://www.photowalkabouts.com/greenwich.html
o Central Park - 2 pm Fridays Meet General Sherman Statue at 5th Ave and 59th Street: http://www.photowalkabouts.com/central.html
o Financial District - 2 pm Saturdays Meet Trinity Church at Broadway and Wall Street: http://www.photowalkabouts.com/financial.html
Other Wine/Beer/Liquor Tasting Events:
Sep 10
• (Thu) Whisky Tasting & Dinner Cruise - Feauturing over 100 Single, New York, | Whisky On The Hudson - Spirit of New York | $85
• (Thu) French Wine & Cheese: An Exploration of Terroir, New York | Tasting World | $75
• (Thu) The Elements of Saké at Astor Center, New York | Astor Center | $65
• (Thu) Viva Italiano - A Taste of the Boot!, New York | Chelsea Wine Vault | $35
• (Thu) L'Chaim! To Life! Kosher Wine Tasting, New York | Bacchus Wine Made Simple | $15
• (Thu) September 10, White Burgundy (CLS091009), New York | Morrell Wine Store | $70 per person or $125 for two people.
• (Thu) NFL Kick-Off Party, New York | Black Bear Lodge | FREE
• (Thu) Brewer-Clifton and Palmina Tasting with Chrystal Clifton, New York | City Winery | $65.00
• (Thu) Seth Walker & Clarence Bucaro, New York | City Winery | $15.00
• (Thu) Free Tasting - End of Summer Wines at Pour, New York | Pour | Free
Sep 11
• (Fri) Market Basket Cooking from the Union Square Greenmarket at A, New York | Astor Center | $125
• (Fri) Tasting Wine Like a Master: The Art of Blind Tasting Red Win, New York | Astor Center | $55
• (Fri) Matthew Sweet and Susanna Hoffs, New York | City Winery | Bar Stools $20.00 / Reserved Tables $25.00
• (Fri) NEW - NY Craft Beer Week, New York | New York City | Beer Passport $35
• (Fri) NEW - New York Craft Beer Week - Gotham Cask Ale Festival, New York | Rattle N' Hum, Swift Hibernian Lounge, & Jimmy's N | Pay as you go
• Free Tasting - End of Summer Wines at Pour, New York | Pour | Free
Sep 12
• (Sat) North Fork Long Island Wine Tours from Manhattan, Greenport | North Fork Wine Tours | $149pp all inclusive 10% discount for 6 or more.
• (Sat) One-Day Wine Immersion, New York | Tasting World | $95
• (Sat) Wine 101, New York | Tasting World | $75
• (Sat) Wine 101 One Night, New York | NYC wine company | 90
• (Sat) Hudson Valley Food & Wine Fest with Grape Getaways, New York | Bus leaves from midtown Manhattan | Regular: $80; Early Sign Up (before 8/20): $75; G
• (Sat) Aromatic Wines with Exotic Flavors paired with Spicy, Savory, New York | The Classic Harbor Line /Yacht Manhattan | $85, use code wine09 for 10% savings on 2 or more
• (Sat) The International Culinary Center's Fall Pastry Courses, New York | The International Culinary Center at The French Cu | $195-$785
• (Sat) David Broza, New York | City Winery | Bar Stools $25.00 / Reserved Tables $32.00
• Awards Dinner, Staten Island | PIAZZA BROTHERS WINE ROOM | $45.00
• (Sat) Hudson Valley Wine and Food Fest with Grape Getaways, New York | Bus leaves for Dutchess County Fairgrounds from mi | $80 per person ($70 pp forn groups of 4 or more)
• Discover the Legend of Glenmorangie at our ‘Scotch’ Brun, Chelsea Wine Vault $50
• (Sat) Free Tasting - End of Summer Wines at Pour, New York | Pour | Free
• (Sat) Great Winemakers of Europe – 3-6pm, NYC | Le Du's Wines | Free
Guide to All NYC Museums
http://thenyknow.com/2009/08/a-guide-to-nyc-museums/
Friday, September 4, 2009
Bronx Bomber Stadium
The previous post reminded me that I had this photo of the old Yankee Stadium after the last game ever played there. My first and last time watching a baseball game there.
I'm sure it'll take a long time to develop the same type of memories that people have from the old stadium, but I hear the new stadium is very nice.
Ok...enough baseball talk for a while.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
A Tale of Two Cities & Two Teams
I really try to avoid politics, and as a general rule, don't typically get into political discussions. And although I don't plan on starting today, the news of Teddy Kennedy's death has definitely put Boston on my mind. That and the fact that I want the Sox to clinch a wildcard spot.
Believe it or not, despite my obvious obsession with New York City, there is another city that I really love to be in. Yes, that city is Boston. Actually, it's all of New England really. Massachusetts, New Hampshire, and Maine mostly. But Boston gets most of my focus because, well, just because it's so damn awesome.
The Freedom Trail. The great food and gelato in the North End. Mike's Pastry. Quincy Mahket. Paul Reveah's house. Old Ironsides. Fenway Pahk. The T. All the wicked pissah good times from eating lobstah and drinkin' lotsa beahs.
I mean come on, it's a no brainer.
But I think many sports fanatics native to Boston and New York would both probably have a hard time comprehending or reconciling the ability to love both places. That's alright though. It's true that I heart NYC. But the Red Sox are definitely my team.
I tend to route for underdogs, and even though I've never been an avid baseball fan, I started cheering for the Sox a few years before they won their first World Series in like a gajillion years. They were perenial underdogs then, and to some extent, probably always will be when it comes to playing their arch rivals from the Bronx, the Yankees.
I once went to a mid-season game at Fenway Park that really didn't have much significance to it. But if I didn't know any better, I'd have thought it was the World Series. It was such a strange, surreal feeling. Maybe I should explain a bit more so you understand my point of reference. You see, my hometown baseball team is the Florida Marlins. Yes, for a young team, they've managed to win a World Series or two.
But if you've ever gone to a Marlins game at mid-season, you'd know that by looking around the stadium, about 80% of the seats are usually empty. Nobody cares. I like the Marlins and all, but when you're at their games, it's really just a pathetic atmosphere.
Then go from experiencing that anemic environment many, many times, then go to a game at Fenway. It's just unbelievable. The two experiences are an extreme contrast between an enjoyable experience and a dull one.
When I was at Fenway Park, I had goosebumps for half the game. By the time they started playing 'Sweet Caroline' in the middle of the 8th inning, I was singing along at the top of my lungs with everyone else. I can still hear Neil Diamond's voice on the loudspeaker, "Good times never seemed so good..." and then the roar of the crowd following up with, "So good, so good, so good."
Everyone around me was so happy and lively and friendly. The place is just brimming with energy and enthusiasm. By the time the game was over, I was exhausted, had nearly lost my voice from cheering and singing as loud as I could, and still had a leftover andrenaline buzz lingering from the game itself.
That's a great memory that I'll never forget. I've rarely encountered such die hard, loyal fans of a baseball team. I'm sure there are plenty of other teams with that type of support, but the Sox have an argument for the best fans in the sport. I'd say #1, but for arguments sake, they're in the top 2 or 3, at the very least.
The game at Fenway was something I had on my 'bucketlist,' which is a list that actually existed before the word 'bucketlist' was popular. I also had 'See a Game at Yankee Stadium' on there too, and I actually ended up being able to go to the last home game ever played at the old Yankee Stadium. I was so excited to be there. I felt like I was a part of history.
This was the last game played there.
Ever.
This was the house that Ruth built, my friends. Countless legends have played on that field. There are a limited amount of people who can say they got to see the last game ever played at the original Yankee Stadium before they tore it down, and I'm proud to be one of them.
But I digress.
I just know that whenever I go to NYC or Boston, I never want to come home.
In a city with so much history, pride, and views like the one in the photo I took above, at the Public Gardens -- can you really blame me?
The game at Fenway was something I had on my 'bucketlist,' which is a list that actually existed before the word 'bucketlist' was popular. I also had 'See a Game at Yankee Stadium' on there too, and I actually ended up being able to go to the last home game ever played at the old Yankee Stadium. I was so excited to be there. I felt like I was a part of history.
This was the last game played there.
Ever.
This was the house that Ruth built, my friends. Countless legends have played on that field. There are a limited amount of people who can say they got to see the last game ever played at the original Yankee Stadium before they tore it down, and I'm proud to be one of them.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Epiphany in the Gloaming
There's something majestic about being up high with a 360 degree view of an entire city; especially at dusk, when the sky explodes with color and reminds you that you're alive.
If you're someone like me, you yearn for these moments, and when you experience them, you hold on to them for a long time afterwards; sometimes, even for the rest of your life. In times of trouble or emotionally trying times, you might even experience a moment of clarity or some kind of epiphany, if you're lucky enough.
I've had a few epiphanies in my life. One of them occurred around the time I took the photo above. Some time has passed, but today I was reflecting on the moment of clarity I had on that day.
You see...
Most people feel a need to be accepted. We want to feel like we belong, like we fit in; and often we conform to accepted norms in order for that be a reality. The need to fit in is a conditioned survival impulse, and yes, it feels good to be accepted; but when this impulse conflicts with the need to follow your heart, there is really only one choice.
Friday, August 21, 2009
In Days of Better Weather
Here's a candid shot of a couple enjoying a nice day on the Great Lawn in Central Park, during days with better weather obviously. The photo was taken with a little point-and-click camera, so it's not the best quality; but each time I see it, I'm reminded of what a great day I had in the park.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Weekend Adventures: 4 States, 36 Hours
It was truly an intense 36 hours between Saturday morning and Sunday evening! So much happened within that timespan, it seems surreal. Where do I start...
Well, I guess I could start with the idiots who live on the floor above my girlfriend's apartment. I finished packing my bags, had two glasses of red wine (Cabernet, of course), and went to sleep with no issues, around 12:30ish AM.
Fast forward to about 3:30ish AM.
Suddenly, music begins blaring. This is soon accompanied by hooting and hollering, which was actually loud enough to drown out the already obnoxiously loud music. There must have been 20-30 people up there; and all of them were 'talking' as loud as they could. Even though it had to have taken a good deal of effort to 'talk' over the music, it apparently made more sense to do that, rather than doing something like....Oh, I dunno...turning the goddamn music down.
Or maybe I'm the idiot with the crazy logic. I guess depending on who you ask, that might be the case, I dunno.
There were consistent bangs coming from the ceiling, which sounded like footsteps stomping on the floor. If I didn't know any better, I'd have thought there were a team of Irish Riverdancers dancing a jig up there.
Then there was the wonderfully deep, sawing sound of the glass door consistently opening and closing, over and over again, every few seconds.
Awesome.
I am Jack's horrible nightmare.
Meanwhile, my girlfriend and I were gnashing our teeth over the fact that this was going on, not just because of the annoyance, but because we had to wake up at 7 AM to catch an early flight to Atlanta then another to Memphis. This fact lingered in my mind the entire time like the slow drip of Chinese water torture on my brain, which of course only added to my stress and fury.
At one point, I got up from the bed since I couldn't sleep anyway, and walked out the glass door to the balcony; which faces East, overlooking the downtown Ft. Lauderdale area about a mile from the beach. It's a nice enough view, but who the fuck wants to see it at 4AM when you have to get up in three hours. I was basically hoping to get a break from the idiocy that was taking place above; but of course, no luck.
As I sat back in the chair, all I could hear were the incoherent, frat-boy type of moronic ramblings you'd hear at a stereotypical keg party on a college campus somewhere. This was an Animal House style party, apparently--except nowhere near as cool, or funny.
The conversations, if you can call them that, were your typical, "Dude, I'm so wasted" type of drivel that bores the shit out of you and makes you feel like your head is going to explode if you don't get far, far away from that person a.s.a.p.
Judging by the sound of things, I'd say everyone probably had done enough cocaine to kill an adult rhinoceros. Exasperated, I went back inside after just a few minutes of listening to that nonsense. I'd heard all I could tolerate without wanting to go break into some Army/Navy store, stealing a bunch of WMDs, then coming back and lofting a few assorted grenades and MOABs into someone's lap.
As I walked back in from the balcony, I blurted out, "Fucking assholes!" hoping they would hear me. I don't think they did, unfortunately. I laid back down and we waited, trying to give them the benefit of the doubt, hoping they would settle down after about an hour, but no luck. I think it was around 5:00ish AM when my girlfriend called the apartment complex's security desk. She answered some of their questions, and the phone call ended soon after it began.
Now that security was involved, I was gleefully awaiting peace and quiet for some much needed sleep.
I waited. Then I waited some more. And then a little bit more. About 45 minutes later, the zoo upstairs finally seemed to be quieting down. A few minutes later, it was quiet enough to deal with, and I tried to go back to sleep.
But...
Twenty minutes after that, it's a full godamn party again.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
It's a good thing I do not own a gun.
At that point, we gave up and just put pillows over our heads in the futile attempt to drown out the assholes above. I think it was around 6:30ish AM when Satan's army finally quieted down. All I remember at that point is that I crashed hard into a deep sleep for about an hour, when the alarm went off.
Oh, the misery of it all. I somehow managed to drag myself out of bed feeling much like John Belushi, or anyone else, really, who has been dead for twenty years. I walked into the kitchen to get a bottle of water, then sat down to compose myself. The silence was absolutely blissful. For a moment, I sat there with my eyes closed and took it all in, enjoying the quiet sound of nothingness.
A few seconds later, my eyes suddenly popped wide open. My exhausted, yet diabolical mind was brewing up a plan, seeking retribution. I casually surveyed the room, and my eyes caught the sight of the TV remote. At this exact moment, the left side of my mouth smirked liked a cat who just ate the canary. I turned the TV on and surfed the channels for the most annoying sound I could find.
Something that had no lulls or moments of quiet; something continual that would annoy the shit out of anyone in their 20s or early 30s who happen to be feeling the consequences of overindulging in booze and coke all night. I couldn't find anything on TV that was annoying enough, so I looked under the TV console and saw a few CDs. And then I saw it.
My girlfriend's Toby Keith CD.
I must've looked like Dinah, the cat from Alice in Wonderland due to the big, smiling grin that suddenly appeared on my face. Low-quality country music to a bunch of twenty-something, hung over cocaine fiends can't be good. Especially at 7:30 AM.
"Oh yeah!" I thought, giggling like a little schoolgirl.
I would not be satisfied until there was some kind of justice. I felt like I had to at least make an attempt at giving them a taste of their own medicine, just on principle. So while my girlfriend was in the shower, I put the CD in the DVD player and blasted Toby Keith as loud as her TV could go without blowing the speakers. In between the lyrics, I screamed things like: "How do you like that, you cocksuckers!" and "Payback's a bitch motherfuckers!" at the top of my lungs.
I don't know if they were conscious enough to hear me or the music, but it made me feel better regardless. After enjoying myself thoroughly for a few minutes of that, I turned everything off, finished getting ready, then drove us to the airport. I was completely out of it, mentally speaking. I had very little sleep, no breakfast, and was still incredibly thirsty. Being hungry, tired, and dehydrated, I could barely function or think at all, as a matter of fact. We were both operating on very little brain power.
Case in point: We thought we parked close to the Delta Airlines terminal; but as we walked out to the terminals, it turns out we were on the opposite end. Awesome.
So, in the oppressively hot and humid Florida weather, we schlepped our asses and luggage, walking for about 15-20 minutes to reach our terminal. I am completely shocked that neither of us got very lippy and there wasn't even much of attitude going on either. Thank goodness for that. The circumstances were bad enough without adding bad attitudes to it.
We actually made it through the security fairly quickly and arrived a few minutes prior to boarding, without any drama. Finally, we caught a break! Or so I thought.
We were flying from Ft. Lauderdale to Antlanta, then Atlanta to Memphis, then driving from Memphis to Tunica, Mississippi.
Yeah.
In case you're not counting, I was literally in 4 States within a span of 4 hours--and I'm not even a famous rock star, or anything close. Good times. But that's not even the worst of it. While putting my bags on the plane to Atlanta, I realized, much to my horror, that in the rush to get to the airport I forgot the suit I was going to wear to the wedding! I could feel my face get red and my ears suddenly felt about 10 degrees hotter. My blood pressure went through the roof as I sat down and put my hands over my face.
The wedding was the entire reason for taking this trip to begin with. What the hell is wrong with me! In that moment, my entire vocabulary was reduced to just one word. The only thing I could think or say was:
"Fuck."
"Fuck!"
Yet, I somehow kept my cool; and by the way I was feeling, I would certainly call this feat a minor miracle. I took a deep breath and thought, "Stay calm, there's a solution to every problem." I sat down and informed my girlfriend on what happened. She could see I was visibly on the brink of spontaneously combusting.
She actually did a great job keeping me calm and offered to surf the web on her phone to look for a tuxedo/suit rental place near the airport. I have to give her brownie points for both keeping me calm and taking the initiative to make suggestions on dealing with the problem. All of this crap notwithstanding, we got through the flight feeling fine--crabby flight attendants and all.
Once we finally landed in Memphis, we took a shuttle to the Avis rent-a-car station. I somehow got a free car rental with my booking, so I guess that's one good thing. Now that we had transportation, we used the GPS on my iPhone to find a place that rents, measures, and tailors suits for use on the same day (that was fun). After trying on the suit and paying for it, we then drove the rest of the way from Memphis, Tennessee to Tunica, Mississippi.
The drive from Memphis to Tunica is the only thing that went relatively smooth. In fact, it was made so much smoother by the GPS. I highly recommend using one to everyone who's planning on taking any road trips. It truly saves you from so much aggravation. The GPS said it would take about 45 minutes to get there. I drove it in 25 minutes.
Feeling completely exhausted, we finally arrived about an hour-and-a-half before the wedding. Just enough time to take a nap and get our heads together for what would turn out to be a hell of an evening!
(...to be continued)
Well, I guess I could start with the idiots who live on the floor above my girlfriend's apartment. I finished packing my bags, had two glasses of red wine (Cabernet, of course), and went to sleep with no issues, around 12:30ish AM.
Fast forward to about 3:30ish AM.
Suddenly, music begins blaring. This is soon accompanied by hooting and hollering, which was actually loud enough to drown out the already obnoxiously loud music. There must have been 20-30 people up there; and all of them were 'talking' as loud as they could. Even though it had to have taken a good deal of effort to 'talk' over the music, it apparently made more sense to do that, rather than doing something like....Oh, I dunno...turning the goddamn music down.
Or maybe I'm the idiot with the crazy logic. I guess depending on who you ask, that might be the case, I dunno.
There were consistent bangs coming from the ceiling, which sounded like footsteps stomping on the floor. If I didn't know any better, I'd have thought there were a team of Irish Riverdancers dancing a jig up there.
Then there was the wonderfully deep, sawing sound of the glass door consistently opening and closing, over and over again, every few seconds.
Awesome.
I am Jack's horrible nightmare.
Meanwhile, my girlfriend and I were gnashing our teeth over the fact that this was going on, not just because of the annoyance, but because we had to wake up at 7 AM to catch an early flight to Atlanta then another to Memphis. This fact lingered in my mind the entire time like the slow drip of Chinese water torture on my brain, which of course only added to my stress and fury.
At one point, I got up from the bed since I couldn't sleep anyway, and walked out the glass door to the balcony; which faces East, overlooking the downtown Ft. Lauderdale area about a mile from the beach. It's a nice enough view, but who the fuck wants to see it at 4AM when you have to get up in three hours. I was basically hoping to get a break from the idiocy that was taking place above; but of course, no luck.
As I sat back in the chair, all I could hear were the incoherent, frat-boy type of moronic ramblings you'd hear at a stereotypical keg party on a college campus somewhere. This was an Animal House style party, apparently--except nowhere near as cool, or funny.
The conversations, if you can call them that, were your typical, "Dude, I'm so wasted" type of drivel that bores the shit out of you and makes you feel like your head is going to explode if you don't get far, far away from that person a.s.a.p.
Judging by the sound of things, I'd say everyone probably had done enough cocaine to kill an adult rhinoceros. Exasperated, I went back inside after just a few minutes of listening to that nonsense. I'd heard all I could tolerate without wanting to go break into some Army/Navy store, stealing a bunch of WMDs, then coming back and lofting a few assorted grenades and MOABs into someone's lap.
As I walked back in from the balcony, I blurted out, "Fucking assholes!" hoping they would hear me. I don't think they did, unfortunately. I laid back down and we waited, trying to give them the benefit of the doubt, hoping they would settle down after about an hour, but no luck. I think it was around 5:00ish AM when my girlfriend called the apartment complex's security desk. She answered some of their questions, and the phone call ended soon after it began.
Now that security was involved, I was gleefully awaiting peace and quiet for some much needed sleep.
I waited. Then I waited some more. And then a little bit more. About 45 minutes later, the zoo upstairs finally seemed to be quieting down. A few minutes later, it was quiet enough to deal with, and I tried to go back to sleep.
But...
Twenty minutes after that, it's a full godamn party again.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
It's a good thing I do not own a gun.
At that point, we gave up and just put pillows over our heads in the futile attempt to drown out the assholes above. I think it was around 6:30ish AM when Satan's army finally quieted down. All I remember at that point is that I crashed hard into a deep sleep for about an hour, when the alarm went off.
Oh, the misery of it all. I somehow managed to drag myself out of bed feeling much like John Belushi, or anyone else, really, who has been dead for twenty years. I walked into the kitchen to get a bottle of water, then sat down to compose myself. The silence was absolutely blissful. For a moment, I sat there with my eyes closed and took it all in, enjoying the quiet sound of nothingness.
A few seconds later, my eyes suddenly popped wide open. My exhausted, yet diabolical mind was brewing up a plan, seeking retribution. I casually surveyed the room, and my eyes caught the sight of the TV remote. At this exact moment, the left side of my mouth smirked liked a cat who just ate the canary. I turned the TV on and surfed the channels for the most annoying sound I could find.
Something that had no lulls or moments of quiet; something continual that would annoy the shit out of anyone in their 20s or early 30s who happen to be feeling the consequences of overindulging in booze and coke all night. I couldn't find anything on TV that was annoying enough, so I looked under the TV console and saw a few CDs. And then I saw it.
My girlfriend's Toby Keith CD.
I must've looked like Dinah, the cat from Alice in Wonderland due to the big, smiling grin that suddenly appeared on my face. Low-quality country music to a bunch of twenty-something, hung over cocaine fiends can't be good. Especially at 7:30 AM.
"Oh yeah!" I thought, giggling like a little schoolgirl.
I would not be satisfied until there was some kind of justice. I felt like I had to at least make an attempt at giving them a taste of their own medicine, just on principle. So while my girlfriend was in the shower, I put the CD in the DVD player and blasted Toby Keith as loud as her TV could go without blowing the speakers. In between the lyrics, I screamed things like: "How do you like that, you cocksuckers!" and "Payback's a bitch motherfuckers!" at the top of my lungs.
I don't know if they were conscious enough to hear me or the music, but it made me feel better regardless. After enjoying myself thoroughly for a few minutes of that, I turned everything off, finished getting ready, then drove us to the airport. I was completely out of it, mentally speaking. I had very little sleep, no breakfast, and was still incredibly thirsty. Being hungry, tired, and dehydrated, I could barely function or think at all, as a matter of fact. We were both operating on very little brain power.
Case in point: We thought we parked close to the Delta Airlines terminal; but as we walked out to the terminals, it turns out we were on the opposite end. Awesome.
So, in the oppressively hot and humid Florida weather, we schlepped our asses and luggage, walking for about 15-20 minutes to reach our terminal. I am completely shocked that neither of us got very lippy and there wasn't even much of attitude going on either. Thank goodness for that. The circumstances were bad enough without adding bad attitudes to it.
We actually made it through the security fairly quickly and arrived a few minutes prior to boarding, without any drama. Finally, we caught a break! Or so I thought.
We were flying from Ft. Lauderdale to Antlanta, then Atlanta to Memphis, then driving from Memphis to Tunica, Mississippi.
Yeah.
In case you're not counting, I was literally in 4 States within a span of 4 hours--and I'm not even a famous rock star, or anything close. Good times. But that's not even the worst of it. While putting my bags on the plane to Atlanta, I realized, much to my horror, that in the rush to get to the airport I forgot the suit I was going to wear to the wedding! I could feel my face get red and my ears suddenly felt about 10 degrees hotter. My blood pressure went through the roof as I sat down and put my hands over my face.
The wedding was the entire reason for taking this trip to begin with. What the hell is wrong with me! In that moment, my entire vocabulary was reduced to just one word. The only thing I could think or say was:
"Fuck."
"Fuck!"
Yet, I somehow kept my cool; and by the way I was feeling, I would certainly call this feat a minor miracle. I took a deep breath and thought, "Stay calm, there's a solution to every problem." I sat down and informed my girlfriend on what happened. She could see I was visibly on the brink of spontaneously combusting.
She actually did a great job keeping me calm and offered to surf the web on her phone to look for a tuxedo/suit rental place near the airport. I have to give her brownie points for both keeping me calm and taking the initiative to make suggestions on dealing with the problem. All of this crap notwithstanding, we got through the flight feeling fine--crabby flight attendants and all.
Once we finally landed in Memphis, we took a shuttle to the Avis rent-a-car station. I somehow got a free car rental with my booking, so I guess that's one good thing. Now that we had transportation, we used the GPS on my iPhone to find a place that rents, measures, and tailors suits for use on the same day (that was fun). After trying on the suit and paying for it, we then drove the rest of the way from Memphis, Tennessee to Tunica, Mississippi.
The drive from Memphis to Tunica is the only thing that went relatively smooth. In fact, it was made so much smoother by the GPS. I highly recommend using one to everyone who's planning on taking any road trips. It truly saves you from so much aggravation. The GPS said it would take about 45 minutes to get there. I drove it in 25 minutes.
Feeling completely exhausted, we finally arrived about an hour-and-a-half before the wedding. Just enough time to take a nap and get our heads together for what would turn out to be a hell of an evening!
(...to be continued)
Friday, August 7, 2009
Fittin to Git Outta Dodge
I'm taking a moment from packing for my trip to Tennessee/Mississippi, listening to my iTunes, and also feeling pretty lucid and carefree. It's nice to be in a light-hearted state-of-mind again!
I checked out the website for the hotel/casino where I'm staying, and wouldn't you know it, the Counting Crows are playing there the exact same day I'll be there.
I've been wanting to see them in concert lately, and it's crazy that they so happened to be playing in some small town I've never heard of, and on the one and only day I'll probably ever be there.
Strange how things like that happen.
I doubt I'll be able to see the show, due to my cousin's wedding reception, but if I can somehow manage to get to there, I'll be loving that.
As I'm typing this, Beethoven's 'Moonlight Sonata' has started playing. I am in love with Beethoven's music, for those of you who do not know.
The 'Moonlight Sonata' is my all-time favorite of his compositions. I don't think any other piece of classical music has ever captivated me quite like that one. It perfectly captures a feeling inside that is truly difficult to put into words.
Everytime I hear it, I experience a stimulating bevy of feelings, all at once. It's as if the music somehow understands something intrinsic within the soul without even trying. Without saying even one word, the notes in the music inherently speaks a language that cannot be spoken.
It stirs up feelings of familiarity, validation, and comfort to name only a few; it also stirs up a kind of feeling that's not unlike what it might be like to have an old flame of love rekindled once again. Almost instantly, it pierces the veil of the person you're trying to be, and reminds you of who you really are.
In case you can't tell, I kind of like it!
Since this post turned out to be a music-themed one, I suppose I'll mention that iTunes is now playing another artist you don't hear people mention very much: Nick Drake.
I only recently discovered Nick Drake, sometime around 2007. I don't even remember how I came across his music, but it was momentarily and in passing.
Yet, it was enough for my ears to perk up and listen. I remember the song being one of the ones on his Pink Moon album, and it was the reason I went out and bought the CD.
His music is moslty mellow and folksy, if you will, but it's very good in my opinion. His story is a sad one, having died of an overdose of anti-depressant medication at young age.
But his music is immortal, and enjoyable at that.
I checked out the website for the hotel/casino where I'm staying, and wouldn't you know it, the Counting Crows are playing there the exact same day I'll be there.
I've been wanting to see them in concert lately, and it's crazy that they so happened to be playing in some small town I've never heard of, and on the one and only day I'll probably ever be there.
Strange how things like that happen.
I doubt I'll be able to see the show, due to my cousin's wedding reception, but if I can somehow manage to get to there, I'll be loving that.
As I'm typing this, Beethoven's 'Moonlight Sonata' has started playing. I am in love with Beethoven's music, for those of you who do not know.
The 'Moonlight Sonata' is my all-time favorite of his compositions. I don't think any other piece of classical music has ever captivated me quite like that one. It perfectly captures a feeling inside that is truly difficult to put into words.
Everytime I hear it, I experience a stimulating bevy of feelings, all at once. It's as if the music somehow understands something intrinsic within the soul without even trying. Without saying even one word, the notes in the music inherently speaks a language that cannot be spoken.
It stirs up feelings of familiarity, validation, and comfort to name only a few; it also stirs up a kind of feeling that's not unlike what it might be like to have an old flame of love rekindled once again. Almost instantly, it pierces the veil of the person you're trying to be, and reminds you of who you really are.
In case you can't tell, I kind of like it!
Since this post turned out to be a music-themed one, I suppose I'll mention that iTunes is now playing another artist you don't hear people mention very much: Nick Drake.
I only recently discovered Nick Drake, sometime around 2007. I don't even remember how I came across his music, but it was momentarily and in passing.
Yet, it was enough for my ears to perk up and listen. I remember the song being one of the ones on his Pink Moon album, and it was the reason I went out and bought the CD.
His music is moslty mellow and folksy, if you will, but it's very good in my opinion. His story is a sad one, having died of an overdose of anti-depressant medication at young age.
But his music is immortal, and enjoyable at that.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
On Perspective, Context, and Expectations
I'm all over the place today, and feeling way too serious for my taste. But life will do that to you sometimes.
I have a few things on my mind that I'd like to unload. I want to touch on perception vs. reality, negativity, fear of change, and letting go.
This will not be like my usual, light-hearted subject matter.
Here's the deal:
Life, reality, the 'truth,' or however you choose to describe it is not always as it seems. In fact, more often than not, we only see, know about, or understand one aspect of a story. But life is not always black-and-white.
Take for example this hypothetical situation:
One parent suddenly 'kidnaps' their 12 year-old girl, leaving no clues as to why they left so abruptly and mysteriously. The other parent appears to be heart-broken, hysterically worried about their daughter, and is visibly shaken. They reach out to their friends, family, and neighbors for support--and everyone is outraged that someone would do such a thing to a child, and to their own family.
On top of that, kidnapping is against the law, too. Breaking the law is rightfully considered a bad thing, and the friends, family, and neighbors are demanding that something be done--that the parent which kidnapped the child should be found and dealt with harshly.
Imagine experiencing this story for a moment, from this perspective only.
Now, consider this: imagine that the daughter was being forced into child-prostitution by the father, that she was beaten daily, and was only fed one small meal per day. Imagine the mother feeling hopelessly trapped, terrified of what might happen to her if she didn't remain quiet about it, playing along with the facade of a normal family.
One day, the mother decides to bide her time until the right moment to take her daughter and run away to start a new life, away from her cruel husband.
This is not a true story, but could very well be one in any part of the world.
There are people everywhere who make judgments and come to conclusions about reality based only on the information they have; but the information they have may not provide a full perspective of what has really happened, and in particular, why it happened.
Perspective and context matters. Sometimes, breaking the law or 'doing the wrong thing,' is the right thing to do.
This is what I'm referring to when I say that life, reality, or truth is not always what it seems.
So, beware of those who believe they have all the answers, because typically, all they really have is a one-dimensional perspective and limited understanding of the world. I've found this to be the case, much to their denial more often than not.
I'm sure you know someone like this. Maybe you're one of them, who knows! But this is not so much a condemnation of anyone, as much as it's a moment to touch on some of my recent frustrations without getting into too much detail.
From time to time, I encounter very closed-minded people; and usually their contributions to our discussions are merely manifestations of their own personal judgments and labels, which are by-products of their blind acceptance of some closed-minded, derivative drivel that their chosen ideology instructs them to believe and repeat; but this mindless repetition reveals a superficial intelligence of fools--the ying to the yang that is genuine wisdom, perhaps.
If your mind's eye is aware enough, however, I think your attention will be called to it like a powerful magnet, much like a rose's sharp, sabre-like thorn immediately commands your attention after it has pierced the unexpecting skin of your hand.
On a slightly different note, I'd like to say that despite falling into the trap of negative thoughts myself on occasion, I hope everyone who reads this is able to shun negativity like the Plague.
There is no more destructive force in the universe than negativity. The exception to this, of course, being things like natural disasters, nuclear bombs, and meteors the size of Texas.
Ok, so I may be overstating this and finally found a morsel of humor to inject into this post.
Still, I really mean it.
Applying this maxim (shutting out negativity) to your life will be of more use to you than you may even realize. I am in the midst of trying to embody this, and I can feel myself getting healthier from the inside out every day that I am focused on this growth, this way of being, this expanding of my personal horizons.
Now that I have all that off my chest, I must say it's been a very trying few weeks.
More because of my own mental growing pains than anything else. To sum it up, I'll use Deepak Chopra's words:
"Before the seeing comes the feeling that there is more to life than what you are living. It's like a faint voice that whispers, 'Find me.'"
I hear these whispers, but despite my desperate urge to find it, I'm paralyzed by fear. This fear, of course, is simply a resistance to letting go. Letting go is a difficulty many people have, and I'm no exception.
My goal is to continue on the path to letting go of: expectation and the dissapointments it often creates, as well as the futile exercise of holding on that sometimes comes with it. Instead, I'm trying to get better at being at ease with simply accepting whatever twists and turns life decides to take me on.
Resisting this is a roadblock to peace of mind; and it applies to everything in life, not just things I fear change in.
That's how I feel about it anyway. I just thought I'd change things up a bit and share that.
As Forrest Gump would say, that's all I have to say about that, for the moment anyway.
Now, back to more positive things.
I have a trip to Mississippi this weekend for my cousin's wedding. It's being held at Harrah's Tunica Hotel and Casino, about 20 minutes from the Memphis International Airport. I really look forward to getting away and feasting my eyes on some different scenery.
Sometimes, a change of scenery goes a long way to making the heart a little lighter.
Aside from that, I'm still working on the itinerary for my NYC trip next month. I may just post it here to give others some ideas on what to do on a visit to NYC.
If I had to describe it in one word as a preview: EPIC.
I have a few things on my mind that I'd like to unload. I want to touch on perception vs. reality, negativity, fear of change, and letting go.
This will not be like my usual, light-hearted subject matter.
Here's the deal:
Life, reality, the 'truth,' or however you choose to describe it is not always as it seems. In fact, more often than not, we only see, know about, or understand one aspect of a story. But life is not always black-and-white.
Take for example this hypothetical situation:
One parent suddenly 'kidnaps' their 12 year-old girl, leaving no clues as to why they left so abruptly and mysteriously. The other parent appears to be heart-broken, hysterically worried about their daughter, and is visibly shaken. They reach out to their friends, family, and neighbors for support--and everyone is outraged that someone would do such a thing to a child, and to their own family.
On top of that, kidnapping is against the law, too. Breaking the law is rightfully considered a bad thing, and the friends, family, and neighbors are demanding that something be done--that the parent which kidnapped the child should be found and dealt with harshly.
Imagine experiencing this story for a moment, from this perspective only.
Now, consider this: imagine that the daughter was being forced into child-prostitution by the father, that she was beaten daily, and was only fed one small meal per day. Imagine the mother feeling hopelessly trapped, terrified of what might happen to her if she didn't remain quiet about it, playing along with the facade of a normal family.
One day, the mother decides to bide her time until the right moment to take her daughter and run away to start a new life, away from her cruel husband.
This is not a true story, but could very well be one in any part of the world.
There are people everywhere who make judgments and come to conclusions about reality based only on the information they have; but the information they have may not provide a full perspective of what has really happened, and in particular, why it happened.
Perspective and context matters. Sometimes, breaking the law or 'doing the wrong thing,' is the right thing to do.
This is what I'm referring to when I say that life, reality, or truth is not always what it seems.
So, beware of those who believe they have all the answers, because typically, all they really have is a one-dimensional perspective and limited understanding of the world. I've found this to be the case, much to their denial more often than not.
I'm sure you know someone like this. Maybe you're one of them, who knows! But this is not so much a condemnation of anyone, as much as it's a moment to touch on some of my recent frustrations without getting into too much detail.
From time to time, I encounter very closed-minded people; and usually their contributions to our discussions are merely manifestations of their own personal judgments and labels, which are by-products of their blind acceptance of some closed-minded, derivative drivel that their chosen ideology instructs them to believe and repeat; but this mindless repetition reveals a superficial intelligence of fools--the ying to the yang that is genuine wisdom, perhaps.
If your mind's eye is aware enough, however, I think your attention will be called to it like a powerful magnet, much like a rose's sharp, sabre-like thorn immediately commands your attention after it has pierced the unexpecting skin of your hand.
On a slightly different note, I'd like to say that despite falling into the trap of negative thoughts myself on occasion, I hope everyone who reads this is able to shun negativity like the Plague.
There is no more destructive force in the universe than negativity. The exception to this, of course, being things like natural disasters, nuclear bombs, and meteors the size of Texas.
Ok, so I may be overstating this and finally found a morsel of humor to inject into this post.
Still, I really mean it.
Applying this maxim (shutting out negativity) to your life will be of more use to you than you may even realize. I am in the midst of trying to embody this, and I can feel myself getting healthier from the inside out every day that I am focused on this growth, this way of being, this expanding of my personal horizons.
Now that I have all that off my chest, I must say it's been a very trying few weeks.
More because of my own mental growing pains than anything else. To sum it up, I'll use Deepak Chopra's words:
"Before the seeing comes the feeling that there is more to life than what you are living. It's like a faint voice that whispers, 'Find me.'"
I hear these whispers, but despite my desperate urge to find it, I'm paralyzed by fear. This fear, of course, is simply a resistance to letting go. Letting go is a difficulty many people have, and I'm no exception.
My goal is to continue on the path to letting go of: expectation and the dissapointments it often creates, as well as the futile exercise of holding on that sometimes comes with it. Instead, I'm trying to get better at being at ease with simply accepting whatever twists and turns life decides to take me on.
Resisting this is a roadblock to peace of mind; and it applies to everything in life, not just things I fear change in.
That's how I feel about it anyway. I just thought I'd change things up a bit and share that.
As Forrest Gump would say, that's all I have to say about that, for the moment anyway.
Now, back to more positive things.
I have a trip to Mississippi this weekend for my cousin's wedding. It's being held at Harrah's Tunica Hotel and Casino, about 20 minutes from the Memphis International Airport. I really look forward to getting away and feasting my eyes on some different scenery.
Sometimes, a change of scenery goes a long way to making the heart a little lighter.
Aside from that, I'm still working on the itinerary for my NYC trip next month. I may just post it here to give others some ideas on what to do on a visit to NYC.
If I had to describe it in one word as a preview: EPIC.
Monday, July 27, 2009
On Thick Heads and Mustard
There are two things that change in my general behaviors when I’m feeling down or going through a spell of melancholy:
(1) I desperately seek the humor in everything, and (2) I am constantly irritated by stupidity, annoying behavior, and things that generally require me to think or work more than I’m inclined to at any particular moment.
The first thing is my only saving grace sometimes and gets me through whatever daily doldrums I’m dealing with. These days, I’m constantly squeezing the humor out of situations that would otherwise not occur to me in different circumstances.
However, I fear the second thing may possibly turn me into a crotchety old man before my time, if gone unchecked.
This is why anytime I catch myself feeling down or getting annoyed by something I’ll try to put a twist of sarcastic humor in my comments or complaints, then I’ll post them as a status update on one of those social networking sites.
It helps me feel a little better when people react and respond because it reminds me that I’m not the only one who has rough days or is constantly encountering the bottom 1% of society, in terms of common sense and/or intelligence.
On a typical day, I’ll share things like:
“Just had a random discussion with some little old lady regarding Mr. Darcy and other Pride & Prejudice characters. Currently being chased by the Man Card Repo guy, who appears to be as fast as Carl Lewis.”
"Damn, I wish every girl I dated in high school had one of these: http://bit.ly/R1Jt8 #doublefistedhandjobs"
“I truly enjoy running and exercising. And by running and exercising, I mean binge drinking and passing out.”
"Recent surveys say the 1st thing men notice in a woman is her eyes, and women say the 1st thing they notice in men is they're a bunch of liars"
(1) I desperately seek the humor in everything, and (2) I am constantly irritated by stupidity, annoying behavior, and things that generally require me to think or work more than I’m inclined to at any particular moment.
The first thing is my only saving grace sometimes and gets me through whatever daily doldrums I’m dealing with. These days, I’m constantly squeezing the humor out of situations that would otherwise not occur to me in different circumstances.
However, I fear the second thing may possibly turn me into a crotchety old man before my time, if gone unchecked.
This is why anytime I catch myself feeling down or getting annoyed by something I’ll try to put a twist of sarcastic humor in my comments or complaints, then I’ll post them as a status update on one of those social networking sites.
It helps me feel a little better when people react and respond because it reminds me that I’m not the only one who has rough days or is constantly encountering the bottom 1% of society, in terms of common sense and/or intelligence.
On a typical day, I’ll share things like:
“Just had a random discussion with some little old lady regarding Mr. Darcy and other Pride & Prejudice characters. Currently being chased by the Man Card Repo guy, who appears to be as fast as Carl Lewis.”
"Damn, I wish every girl I dated in high school had one of these: http://bit.ly/R1Jt8 #doublefistedhandjobs"
“I truly enjoy running and exercising. And by running and exercising, I mean binge drinking and passing out.”
"Recent surveys say the 1st thing men notice in a woman is her eyes, and women say the 1st thing they notice in men is they're a bunch of liars"
But back to the subject of stupid people…
I went to Canes Fest this weekend, which was held at Land Shark Stadium here in South Florida. Canes Fest is a gathering of the South Florida sports media, the University of Miami Hurricanes college football players and coaches, as well as fans of the team.
It was actually a forgettable experience in all honesty, but the conversation I had while we stopped to get lunch on the way still sticks with me. Every time I think of it, I’m still in disbelief that it actually took place.
Here’s the scoop:
We walk in to a local sub-sandwich shop, and I approach the counter to order.
The girl at the counter asks, “Hello, do you know what you want?”
“Yes, I’ll have a small roast beef on white, with provolone cheese.”
She grabs the bread and fumbles with the knife to cut the bread as she asks, “You want mayo and mustard?”
“No, just mayo” I said.
She continues fumbling around, then grabs the cheese and roast beef from its bin.
“Mustard?”
She places the meat and cheese next to the bread.
“No, only mayo,” I replied, again.
“Ok.”
She grabs the mustard, and just before squeezing the plastic bottle, she pauses and asks, “Just mustard?”
Exasperated at this point, I sigh, my blood pressure instantly rises at least 20 points, and I respond, “No mustard!”
Finally, after repeating myself yet again, it registers at the last second that I don’t want mustard.
This conversation actually took place.
True story.
I paid for my sandwich and look at my friend with a ‘what-the-fuck’ face on the way out. I was speechless, and all I could keep saying was, “Dude, seriously?”
Over and over again.
All he could do was raise an eyebrow, throw his hands up and shrug while responding with a pithy, “Wow. Just…Wow.”
Apparently, good listening skills are no longer a requirement for working in some customer service oriented environments.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
The Highline
I'm slowly building what already looks to be an epic itinerary for my next trip to my favorite city. I was working on it a bit today and came across this article about the Highline, which after reading to the article, seems like a good spot to check out.
I have no idea whether or not it's all that great, but I'll keep an open mind until I see it. I liked this picture is from the Highline website, so I decided to post it here for your viewing pleasure.
Anyone local New Yorkers out there have any opinions on the place yet?
Monday, July 20, 2009
The East Village
It's too small to really appreciate some of the details, but here's a photo I took as I was walking around the East Village area (I think it's from that area, but I can't fully remember, as I was pretty loaded at the time).
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Oye, I'm Schvitzing
Ever wonder what it’s like to live in South Florida?Get an industrial sized humidifier for your house and run it until your home reaches at least 80% humidity. Then, turn the heat up until it reaches 99 degrees and hang out in it for a while.
Voila.
That’s what it’s like.
It’s literally like living in a Turkish bathhouse for cryin' out loud.
Doesn’t that sound awesome?
This weather sucks worse than anything has ever sucked in the history of all humankind.
Until something else sucks worse, that is.
Even my fingers are schvitzing as I type this. Oye!
Have I mentioned how much this weather sucks?
Monday, July 13, 2009
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Morons in Manhattan IV
(Continued from Morons in Manhattan III)
With it’s storied history, architecture (though much of it is disappearing), and inimitable culture, New York City truly seems to have a life of its own.
Walking the streets of Manhattan is, more often than not, an interesting and unique adventure—it always is for me anyway. I should clarify that when I write ‘walking the streets,’ I don’t mean the touristy, packed-like-sardines parts of the city.
Take Times Square for example. If you've ever been there, you know what I'm talking about. I can't stand being there for very long, especially during peak hours.
Fortunately for me, I’ve been to NYC enough times to know my way around almost as well as the locals do. Walking the side-streets or lesser-known areas which usually have relatively fewer people is truly a much better way to experience the city, rather than following the well-known paths that ultimately lead to over-crowded tourist spots.
Much like a blank canvas to a painter, Manhattan can be the perfect backdrop for you to create and discover a uniquely colorful, eventful, and sometimes unpredictable set of experiences—even if it’s only for a few days of your life every year.
For me, it could take a year (maybe even two) of living in Suburbia to cumulatively experience the kind of excitement and fun that I would experience after just one weekend in NYC.
I mean that literally; and honestly, it's not for lack of trying.
But as I’ve said before, the most important variable that makes New York City unique are its people, make no mistake about it. I'd be hard-pressed to name a more diverse city in the U.S. It's one of the many things that fascinates me about the city.
Much to my dismay, I don't reside there. Because of this, I always have a strong desire to suck the marrow out of the few days I’m there every year; which is why I usually pack each day full of activities.
The day we had breakfast at the café on 23rd Street was no exception.
In fact, the day’s itinerary was so jam-packed with things to do and places to see, I wasn’t sure if we’d be able to do everything I had wanted to do.
The itinerary I put together was very ambitious, but I definitely felt it was do-able.
This was the first time TD and his girlfriend had ever been to New York City, so I wanted them to experience as much of Manhattan as possible in the three days we were there.
Our first destination after leaving the café on 23rd and Broadway was the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
It was a bit of a hike from 23rd Street, but we decided to walk as far as we could toward the museum to really take in and absorb the city on the way there.
As I mentioned, walking around NYC is one of my favorite things to do when I’m there. There's no better way to discover how great the city is than by walking around.
So I took us west on foot from 23rd Street, passing the Flatiron Building and continuing until we reached 8th Ave. Once we reached the corner, we took a right, going north into Chelsea.
From what I've read, Chelsea was once solidly Irish and housed a good deal of the workers who loaded/unloaded various warehouse peirs and truck terminals in the 1900s.
These days, I often hear Chelsea lightheartedly coined as a Gayborhood, due to its large gay population. The demographic or stereotype that I've often heard to describe the neighborhood has been that it's well populated with gym-toned gay men, affectionately referred to as 'Chelsea boys.'
Apparently, it's also become an alternative shopping destination, and the West Chelsea Arts District is home to over 370 art galleries and innumerable artist studios, making it a veritable hub for Modern Contemporary Art.
Anytime I’m the Chelsea area, I always think of the lyrics that Adam Duritz of the Counting Crows penned for a song named…you guessed it, ‘Chelsea.’
In fact, on our walk through Chelsea I began singing the lyrics to that song out loud in my best A.D. impersonation, which was, in retrospect, a bad idea.
“Never go to New York City these days…somethin’ about the buildings in Chelsea just kills me.”
Before I could continued, TD immediately rolled is eyes and began either mocking the song, or me (perhaps both), singing his own version of my butchered version.
“If he keeps singing this song now, someone please just kill me…”
Everyone within earshot were probably nodding in agreement with TD, thanking him for intervening in what was surely a horribly bad rendition of the song.
After a few death-glares from the people walking by me, I relented and spared my Chelsean audience from further torture.
With it’s storied history, architecture (though much of it is disappearing), and inimitable culture, New York City truly seems to have a life of its own.
Walking the streets of Manhattan is, more often than not, an interesting and unique adventure—it always is for me anyway. I should clarify that when I write ‘walking the streets,’ I don’t mean the touristy, packed-like-sardines parts of the city.
Take Times Square for example. If you've ever been there, you know what I'm talking about. I can't stand being there for very long, especially during peak hours.
Fortunately for me, I’ve been to NYC enough times to know my way around almost as well as the locals do. Walking the side-streets or lesser-known areas which usually have relatively fewer people is truly a much better way to experience the city, rather than following the well-known paths that ultimately lead to over-crowded tourist spots.
Much like a blank canvas to a painter, Manhattan can be the perfect backdrop for you to create and discover a uniquely colorful, eventful, and sometimes unpredictable set of experiences—even if it’s only for a few days of your life every year.
For me, it could take a year (maybe even two) of living in Suburbia to cumulatively experience the kind of excitement and fun that I would experience after just one weekend in NYC.
I mean that literally; and honestly, it's not for lack of trying.
But as I’ve said before, the most important variable that makes New York City unique are its people, make no mistake about it. I'd be hard-pressed to name a more diverse city in the U.S. It's one of the many things that fascinates me about the city.
Much to my dismay, I don't reside there. Because of this, I always have a strong desire to suck the marrow out of the few days I’m there every year; which is why I usually pack each day full of activities.
The day we had breakfast at the café on 23rd Street was no exception.
In fact, the day’s itinerary was so jam-packed with things to do and places to see, I wasn’t sure if we’d be able to do everything I had wanted to do.
The itinerary I put together was very ambitious, but I definitely felt it was do-able.
This was the first time TD and his girlfriend had ever been to New York City, so I wanted them to experience as much of Manhattan as possible in the three days we were there.
Our first destination after leaving the café on 23rd and Broadway was the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
It was a bit of a hike from 23rd Street, but we decided to walk as far as we could toward the museum to really take in and absorb the city on the way there.
As I mentioned, walking around NYC is one of my favorite things to do when I’m there. There's no better way to discover how great the city is than by walking around.
So I took us west on foot from 23rd Street, passing the Flatiron Building and continuing until we reached 8th Ave. Once we reached the corner, we took a right, going north into Chelsea.
From what I've read, Chelsea was once solidly Irish and housed a good deal of the workers who loaded/unloaded various warehouse peirs and truck terminals in the 1900s.
These days, I often hear Chelsea lightheartedly coined as a Gayborhood, due to its large gay population. The demographic or stereotype that I've often heard to describe the neighborhood has been that it's well populated with gym-toned gay men, affectionately referred to as 'Chelsea boys.'
Apparently, it's also become an alternative shopping destination, and the West Chelsea Arts District is home to over 370 art galleries and innumerable artist studios, making it a veritable hub for Modern Contemporary Art.
Anytime I’m the Chelsea area, I always think of the lyrics that Adam Duritz of the Counting Crows penned for a song named…you guessed it, ‘Chelsea.’
In fact, on our walk through Chelsea I began singing the lyrics to that song out loud in my best A.D. impersonation, which was, in retrospect, a bad idea.
“Never go to New York City these days…somethin’ about the buildings in Chelsea just kills me.”
Before I could continued, TD immediately rolled is eyes and began either mocking the song, or me (perhaps both), singing his own version of my butchered version.
“If he keeps singing this song now, someone please just kill me…”
Everyone within earshot were probably nodding in agreement with TD, thanking him for intervening in what was surely a horribly bad rendition of the song.
After a few death-glares from the people walking by me, I relented and spared my Chelsean audience from further torture.
About ten blocks later, I started feeling thirsty.
I noticed there was a Duane Reade store up ahead, so I told TD and company I was stopping to get a drink, and they decided to wait outside while I went in.
Predictably, there wasn't anything exciting going on inside, except perhaps for the interesting sight of a girl wearing super-short, beige daisy duke shorts with big, brown girly-boots up to her knees.
After muttering, "Hmm, there's something I don't see every day," I walked to the counter with some snacks and a beverage whose contents I'd already chugged half-way by the time I reached the cashier. I fumbled through my pockets before finding some cash to pay the cashier, then headed for the door.
As I walked out with my plastic bag, The Diva asked, “What did you get?”
I was feeling playful, and responded in my imitation of gay character Anthony Marentino from the HBO Series, Sex and the City:
“Well, apparently there’s not an anal beads section at Duane Reade. So I settled for some pencils and soap.”
TD smiled and joined in with his own feminine lisp, “Oh stop it you filthy pervert, we can’t use those here anyway…”
“Oh yes I can, sailorboy! You just try and stop me!”
“You’re such a gyspy savage,” he retorted.
“Oh stop it, you sonofabitch!”
As we laughed in amusement at the fact that: (a) we're basically idiots, and (b) we would be great as gay men if only we could fix that whole being-into-chicks thing, the Diva listens to our light-hearted, lisp-heavy voice impersonations and looks on with a curious expression—as if she’d just discovered someone had pissed in her ice cube tray after having finished a cube-filled drink and crunching on a pee-cube unwittingly.
"Wow, you guys do that really well! Are you guys sure you’re not gay?” TD’s girlfriend asked, with one eyebrow raised.
TD and I let out hearty belly-laughs and I replied, “No, but since I think we fit into that metrosexual category, I guess that makes us sort of gay, in a non-gay way.”
“Dude, being metro is totally like being gay-light, or something like that…we’re totally gay!”
She paused, and a puzzled look came over her face.
“What’s a metro…” she began to ask.
I was about to roll my eyes at what I thought was another 'playing dumb' moment, when she stopped, smiled, and said, “Ha-ha, I’m just kidding!”
"Nice! You almost got me!" I said.
We all agreed that TD and I may not be hot enough to be allowed to be gay, got a good laugh out of it, and continued with the self-effacing jokes as we walked.
Yes, moments like this confirm our moronic dickishness, I know.
Anyway, much to my surprise, we made it about twenty blocks before Little Ms. Sunshine decided she needed to use the bathroom.
Again.
This time, however, I had a full bladder myself, and was glad to stop at a bathroom somewhere.
We looked around and there weren’t any places we could stop to use the bathroom where we were, but I did notice what appeared to be an upscale restaurant about half a block ahead.
I must hold my bladder quite a bit when I’m in town, because I've noticed I always seem to hold it until the last second when I visit, and by the time I decide to relieve myself, I’m pretty much at Pee Defcon 5.
So I devised a plan to have TD distract the hostess with questions, while I snuck in behind him to use their bathroom.
It was like taking candy from a baby.
I successfully made it past the maître d' and into the bathroom area with no one noticing.
As I opened the men’s room door, a pleasantly crisp, clean smell rushed to my nose.
It was a huge, very clean, lavish, marble-tiled bathroom.
I was so impressed, I stopped to look around and check things out. As a result, I almost forgot to unzip my pants and nearly pissed myself. But, I quickly snapped out of my stupor and huried to the urinal, barely getting the old boosh-canoosh out in time to do my business.
“Ahhhh!” I sighed, in relief.
Then I looked down towards my feet and noticed it. The coolest thing I’ve ever seen in a public bathroom.
“Oh man, sweet! This place rocks!” I said, out loud.
What’s the reason this restaurant rocks, you ask?
Splashguard on the urinal. That’s right.
And it was a marble splashguard at that.
Pretty snazzy I’d say.
I know I keep saying this, but sometimes it’s the simple things in life that impresses me the most.
I mean, how often do you see that, right?
Um, never.
At least not in the States, anyway.
I realize it’s probably strange to get so excited about a restaurant urinal, but I must say, this was a nice urinal. I'm talking the Holy Grail of Urinals my friends.
I noticed there was a Duane Reade store up ahead, so I told TD and company I was stopping to get a drink, and they decided to wait outside while I went in.
Predictably, there wasn't anything exciting going on inside, except perhaps for the interesting sight of a girl wearing super-short, beige daisy duke shorts with big, brown girly-boots up to her knees.
After muttering, "Hmm, there's something I don't see every day," I walked to the counter with some snacks and a beverage whose contents I'd already chugged half-way by the time I reached the cashier. I fumbled through my pockets before finding some cash to pay the cashier, then headed for the door.
As I walked out with my plastic bag, The Diva asked, “What did you get?”
I was feeling playful, and responded in my imitation of gay character Anthony Marentino from the HBO Series, Sex and the City:
“Well, apparently there’s not an anal beads section at Duane Reade. So I settled for some pencils and soap.”
TD smiled and joined in with his own feminine lisp, “Oh stop it you filthy pervert, we can’t use those here anyway…”
“Oh yes I can, sailorboy! You just try and stop me!”
“You’re such a gyspy savage,” he retorted.
“Oh stop it, you sonofabitch!”
"Wow, you guys do that really well! Are you guys sure you’re not gay?” TD’s girlfriend asked, with one eyebrow raised.
TD and I let out hearty belly-laughs and I replied, “No, but since I think we fit into that metrosexual category, I guess that makes us sort of gay, in a non-gay way.”
“Dude, being metro is totally like being gay-light, or something like that…we’re totally gay!”
She paused, and a puzzled look came over her face.
“What’s a metro…” she began to ask.
I was about to roll my eyes at what I thought was another 'playing dumb' moment, when she stopped, smiled, and said, “Ha-ha, I’m just kidding!”
"Nice! You almost got me!" I said.
We all agreed that TD and I may not be hot enough to be allowed to be gay, got a good laugh out of it, and continued with the self-effacing jokes as we walked.
Anyway, much to my surprise, we made it about twenty blocks before Little Ms. Sunshine decided she needed to use the bathroom.
Again.
This time, however, I had a full bladder myself, and was glad to stop at a bathroom somewhere.
We looked around and there weren’t any places we could stop to use the bathroom where we were, but I did notice what appeared to be an upscale restaurant about half a block ahead.
I must hold my bladder quite a bit when I’m in town, because I've noticed I always seem to hold it until the last second when I visit, and by the time I decide to relieve myself, I’m pretty much at Pee Defcon 5.
So I devised a plan to have TD distract the hostess with questions, while I snuck in behind him to use their bathroom.
It was like taking candy from a baby.
I successfully made it past the maître d' and into the bathroom area with no one noticing.
It was a huge, very clean, lavish, marble-tiled bathroom.
I was so impressed, I stopped to look around and check things out. As a result, I almost forgot to unzip my pants and nearly pissed myself. But, I quickly snapped out of my stupor and huried to the urinal, barely getting the old boosh-canoosh out in time to do my business.
“Ahhhh!” I sighed, in relief.
Then I looked down towards my feet and noticed it. The coolest thing I’ve ever seen in a public bathroom.
“Oh man, sweet! This place rocks!” I said, out loud.
What’s the reason this restaurant rocks, you ask?
Splashguard on the urinal. That’s right.
And it was a marble splashguard at that.
Pretty snazzy I’d say.
I know I keep saying this, but sometimes it’s the simple things in life that impresses me the most.
I mean, how often do you see that, right?
Um, never.
At least not in the States, anyway.
Anyway, about half-way through doing my business, I hear a guy walk in.
He walked over to the urinal at the opposite end of mine, and was rambling on about some nonsense, but I couldn’t make heads or tails of it because he was talking like he had a sock stuffed in his mouth.
I thought he sounded a bit strange, so looked to my right and realized that he was simultaneously urinating, eating, and talking on his cell-phone.
At first, I cringed at how disgusting I thought this was, but then I shrugged it off and just figured he was just in a major hurry or something.
I finished my business, testing the slashguard's effectiveness, and I'm happy to report that it performed admirably. No Splashes.
Afterwards, as I was walking out, I thought about it and realized the difficulty of this feat, then thought to myself, “that man’s a genius!”
I immediately told TD about the guy in the bathroom, and his reaction was the same as mine.
“Dude, that’s pretty gross.”
“But you’re right, it is kind of impressive. I mean I’m imagining that now, and it would actually be pretty tough.”
“Ew, that’s disgusting!” said Ms. Wonderful, her face wincing in a way which indicated that the thought of this type of multi-tasking offended her delicate sensibilities.
Shaking her head in disapproval, she said, “You guys are actually impressed by this? That's not impressive, that's gross!”
TD replied, “Yeah, I mean it is pretty gross, I guess. But still...”
“I know you don’t have a penis, but stop to think about it. That's hard!”
“Ew! No thanks! I don’t even want to talk about it, much less think about it!”
Clearly, she was not impressed by his rationale.
I thought he sounded a bit strange, so looked to my right and realized that he was simultaneously urinating, eating, and talking on his cell-phone.
At first, I cringed at how disgusting I thought this was, but then I shrugged it off and just figured he was just in a major hurry or something.
I finished my business, testing the slashguard's effectiveness, and I'm happy to report that it performed admirably. No Splashes.
Afterwards, as I was walking out, I thought about it and realized the difficulty of this feat, then thought to myself, “that man’s a genius!”
I immediately told TD about the guy in the bathroom, and his reaction was the same as mine.
“Dude, that’s pretty gross.”
“But you’re right, it is kind of impressive. I mean I’m imagining that now, and it would actually be pretty tough.”
“Ew, that’s disgusting!” said Ms. Wonderful, her face wincing in a way which indicated that the thought of this type of multi-tasking offended her delicate sensibilities.
Shaking her head in disapproval, she said, “You guys are actually impressed by this? That's not impressive, that's gross!”
TD replied, “Yeah, I mean it is pretty gross, I guess. But still...”
“I know you don’t have a penis, but stop to think about it. That's hard!”
“Ew! No thanks! I don’t even want to talk about it, much less think about it!”
Clearly, she was not impressed by his rationale.
Can't say I blamed her.
I cut in and added, "You're right, I guess that is pretty nasty no matter how difficult it is; but the splashguard...the splashguard thing is pretty cool, you have to admit."
Both of them replied, in unison, "True, true..."
After the bathroom multi-tasker and splashguard conversations lost their novelty, we continued our journey, walking a few blocks more then turning on 40th Street, going toward 5th Avenue.
By the time we reached Bryant Park, we realized that we were starting to get behind on time.
So, to keep on schedule with the itinerary, we hailed a cab up to The Plaza Hotel, and walked the rest of the way from there.
When we arrived at the fountain in front of The Plaza, The Diva noticed someone dressed as the Statue of Liberty and wanted to take a picture with them, so we humored her and took the damn pictures, before continuing along the East side of Central Park for about 20 blocks until we finally reached The Met.
When you don’t live and walk in NYC all the time, you forget that 20 blocks is a bit of a hike if you’re not used to walking that much!
We sat for a few moments to have hot dog, the staple of any self-respecting New Yorker's street diet. TD grabbed my camera and took a photo of me and The Diva while we sat outside the museum.
When I looked at the picture he took, I noticed that an Asian girl to my right was 'what-the-fuck-ing' me with her face as TD took the picture.
Check it out, it's kind of amusing.
Anyway, after a few minutes we got our lazy asses up and started walking toward the museum.
As we approached the steps, we noticed a slew of rickshaw/pedicabs (those bicycle-carriage guys) to our right, lined up outside the museum on 5th Avenue, ready for action.
We laughed and dismissed them, all in agreement that using them wasn't really worth what they were overcharging—and besides “that’s too touristy,” we decided.
Famous last words.
I cut in and added, "You're right, I guess that is pretty nasty no matter how difficult it is; but the splashguard...the splashguard thing is pretty cool, you have to admit."
Both of them replied, in unison, "True, true..."
After the bathroom multi-tasker and splashguard conversations lost their novelty, we continued our journey, walking a few blocks more then turning on 40th Street, going toward 5th Avenue.
By the time we reached Bryant Park, we realized that we were starting to get behind on time.
When we arrived at the fountain in front of The Plaza, The Diva noticed someone dressed as the Statue of Liberty and wanted to take a picture with them, so we humored her and took the damn pictures, before continuing along the East side of Central Park for about 20 blocks until we finally reached The Met.
We sat for a few moments to have hot dog, the staple of any self-respecting New Yorker's street diet. TD grabbed my camera and took a photo of me and The Diva while we sat outside the museum.
When I looked at the picture he took, I noticed that an Asian girl to my right was 'what-the-fuck-ing' me with her face as TD took the picture.
Anyway, after a few minutes we got our lazy asses up and started walking toward the museum.
As we approached the steps, we noticed a slew of rickshaw/pedicabs (those bicycle-carriage guys) to our right, lined up outside the museum on 5th Avenue, ready for action.
After walking 30+ blocks, then walking around the museum for 2+ hours, my friends and I were feeling quite worn out.
By the time we decided that we'd seen enough of The Met, my feet were feeling sore, and I could tell everyone was feeling cranky, to say the least.
As we walked out of the museum, feeling both tired and hungry, we looked at the bicycle-carriage guys again and had an entirely different opinion of them.
We all gave in and did the tourist thing without much resistance, agreeing that we needed to get to our next destination as fast as we could, without having to walk there.
That destination being The Boathouse Restaurant in Central Park. With this in mind, picked the pedicab with the most sitting space, and off we went. The poor guy had to schlep all 3 of us.
As we walked out of the museum, feeling both tired and hungry, we looked at the bicycle-carriage guys again and had an entirely different opinion of them.
We all gave in and did the tourist thing without much resistance, agreeing that we needed to get to our next destination as fast as we could, without having to walk there.
That destination being The Boathouse Restaurant in Central Park. With this in mind, picked the pedicab with the most sitting space, and off we went. The poor guy had to schlep all 3 of us.
But, I must say, the ride was definitely worth it considering how old our fatigued and hungry thirty-something year-old bodies were feeling (The Diva being fourty-something, of course; just wanted to point that out simply because it brings me joy).
Plus, it was something we'd never done before, so while we were on the back of the bike, we rationalized it as a 'new experience,' instead of viewing it as a sell-out of our agreed upon anti-tourist principles.
Looking back, I guess it did contradict our agreement to not do tourist things, but what can you do. Sometimes, you have to contradict yourself.
As native New Yorker, Walt Whitman would've said, "Do I contradict myself? Very well then, I contradict myself. I am large...I contain multitudes."
Considering the fact that I'm basically a walking contradiction, I use that quote a good deal of the time to explain the things I do; and I'm fine with that. I'm kind of proud of it actually.
Especially when it means I can be lazy and take the easy way out.
There, I said it. Whatever!
All things considered, I would take the pedicab again. We did have a ton of things still left to do, so we would need to pace ourselves and conserve as much energy as we could save.
Afterall, The Boathouse Restaurant awaited our palates, but the last game ever played at Yankee Stadium that night was the climax of the day's itinerary!
Plus, it was something we'd never done before, so while we were on the back of the bike, we rationalized it as a 'new experience,' instead of viewing it as a sell-out of our agreed upon anti-tourist principles.
Looking back, I guess it did contradict our agreement to not do tourist things, but what can you do. Sometimes, you have to contradict yourself.
As native New Yorker, Walt Whitman would've said, "Do I contradict myself? Very well then, I contradict myself. I am large...I contain multitudes."
Considering the fact that I'm basically a walking contradiction, I use that quote a good deal of the time to explain the things I do; and I'm fine with that. I'm kind of proud of it actually.
Especially when it means I can be lazy and take the easy way out.
There, I said it. Whatever!
All things considered, I would take the pedicab again. We did have a ton of things still left to do, so we would need to pace ourselves and conserve as much energy as we could save.
Monday, July 6, 2009
Sea World
Here's a photo update for today, since I'm having some difficulty finding time to write anything.
I'm just trying to survive this Florida heat and making lemonade out of the lemons, so to speak.
My head is spinning from this roller-coaster ride called life!
Speaking of roller-coasters, there's one at Sea World called the Manta that looks pretty intense. Here’s a photo of it, as well as a few other random shots:
I'm just trying to survive this Florida heat and making lemonade out of the lemons, so to speak.
My head is spinning from this roller-coaster ride called life!
Speaking of roller-coasters, there's one at Sea World called the Manta that looks pretty intense. Here’s a photo of it, as well as a few other random shots:
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Rock and Roll Weekend
I had an excellent weekend!
This past Friday, I went with a group of friends to West Palm Beach, Florida, to see Kid Rock & Lynyrd Skynyrd in concert.
On Saturday, I went to Orlando, Florida for an extended weekend and went to Sea World, as well as City Walk at Universal Studios. I should have the photos from Orlando later this week.
As for Kid Rock and Skynyrd, they both put on a great show!
I managed to take some photos with my point-and-click camera, which unfortunately doesn't take very good photos in low-light conditions.
That said, most of the pics turned out very grainy. Definitely not great quality pics, but here are a few photos from the show:
This past Friday, I went with a group of friends to West Palm Beach, Florida, to see Kid Rock & Lynyrd Skynyrd in concert.
On Saturday, I went to Orlando, Florida for an extended weekend and went to Sea World, as well as City Walk at Universal Studios. I should have the photos from Orlando later this week.
As for Kid Rock and Skynyrd, they both put on a great show!
I managed to take some photos with my point-and-click camera, which unfortunately doesn't take very good photos in low-light conditions.
That said, most of the pics turned out very grainy. Definitely not great quality pics, but here are a few photos from the show:
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