Ballad of the Troubador/Song of the Wayfarer

Forty days ago, I muddled along the bus routes and through the shopping centers of Brooklyn, looking for things that are impossible to find for being products of my own imagination. I was suddenly amused when I turned to look at the mannequins at Daffy's department store. They were in the process of being changed into different clothes, and at the moment I saw them, they were stripped naked.

Daffy's is not a typical department store. The slogan that parades across their shopping bags and wallpaper states, "Clothing bargains for millionaires!" a vague description at best. Suffice it to say that their clientele is not the same that is going to be shopping at Saks Fifth Avenue or Tiffany's. At least not yet. Daffy's in New York can usually be found in the vicinity of Old Navy and TJ Maxx or Marshalls.

Daffy's mannequins are also atypical of an ordinary collection of human figurines. As the name of the store might suggest, the mannequins are very cartoonish. Not at all like the mannequins you'd see at other, trendier stores, who have been sculpted with distinct anatomical detail, and leave very little room to the imagination. Daffy's mannequins, on the other hand, are all gold statues, and they don't look human at all, which is why it was all the more amusing and disturbing to see them naked.

I looked at the statues, I laughed, and I continued down the escalator. I got to thinking about something that I think about every six months or so, which was, "What am I doing? Where am I going with my life? And why does that stuff amuse me?"

I was at a crossroads and a turning point in my life. So many things still left to accomplish, and while some of them are in reach, they just seem so far away at times. What do I need? I'll create a list of priorities. I need money. I need a job that makes me happy. I need a woman. I need a plan. I need to be able to not have to depend on others. I need to turn my life around and get facing the right direction. I need to find my place in the world.

So I did what every logically thinking human being would do, I dropped everything and left.

Several events were coming up at home that I knew I wanted to be there for. There was the prospect of going to Minnesota, to visit my sister and to return a screen-printing machine. And on top of that there was the prospect of getting out of New York for a while, a long while.

In order for it to happen, I would have to count on a lot of things to work out somewhat miraculously to allow me to leave. I would have to take an extraordinary amount of time off work, which they were somehow at peace with. I would not be working for a month. I would not be able to be their go-to guy with whatever problems came up, and I would not be able to fill in if somebody didn't show up.

If I was going to leave for a month, I would have to still find a way to pay the rent. No problem, plenty of people are itching for the chance to live in New York on a commitment-free basis. So I sublet my room to a Bulgarian gentleman in town for the summer. He got my room while I was gone, and I received a large portion of my rent money.

I had to find a way there and a way back, which would complicate things. One of the reasons I was going was to haul a huge piece of equipment there to return to its rightful owner. The screenprinting machine I'd been using for the greater part of last year was not actually mine. I was babysitting it, and now the owner wanted it back. The only catch was that the owner lives in Minnesota, in the twin cities. As convenience would have it, the twin cities are not far from where my sister went to school in Northfield.

On the way back to New York, I was planning on stopping in New Jersey, to spend a week at a summer beach house my friends and I had all gone in on renting back in October.

So I rented a moving truck to haul the screenprinting machine and some other items home, and purchased a plane ticket for the ride back.

While at home, I got in touch with all the people I had missed. I saw my mom, my brothers, my grandma, aunts, uncles, cousins, the whole works. I got to see and spend quality time with many of the friends I grew to know so dearly when I was in high school. I saw a couple pairs of friends get married. I saw people who I knew I would run into, and I saw people I didn't expect to see. I saw people I'd seen a few months back, and people I hadn't seen for years. I saw people who didn't recognize me, and those that I didn't recognize myself.

All the while, I was asked the same questions by all of them, and all the while I always felt a little uncomfortable explaining my life story to them, along with the most recent addenda and plans for the future. I suppose that's what happens when you go away for a while, though.

After weeks gone by spending time at home cleaning the house, taking care of and spending time with my brothers, and helping my mom on the farm, I departed for Minnesota to complete my mission.

I drove all the way up through Iowa, to Minnesota, where I found my sister at college. She had just finished all her schoolwork that she would ever have to do, and it was now smooth sailing until graduation. It was a perfect time for me to visit. We spent the next couple days together. She cooked a lot. I met her dearest college friends, and we went out for a night on the town in Northfield. And I returned the screenprinting machine to its owner.

Before long, though, it was time to return home. So I took in the long drive from Minnesota down to Quincy. This time, the drive was made even longer by my detours in Mason City, Iowa, to see the Music Man exhibit, Cedar Rapids, Iowa, to see Cedar Rapids and get a Maid Rite sandwich, and finally, Brandon, Iowa, to see the world's biggest frying pan.

My return home was appropriate, as I would not be able to attend Marissa's graduation, and she was going to come home again in less than one week.

Meanwhile, I was prepping for my return to the city. Before that was to happen, though, I was due in New Jersey for my annual trip to the shore. So, I got up to go to the airport early Saturday morning to fly to Philadelphia, where I would be met by my friends and a car. My sister ended up going to the airport with me a the same time, as she had a later flight to Honduras (don't ask me?).

I made it to Philly. She made it to Honduras, but we went our separate ways. I slept on the flight and on the way to New Jersey. When we arrived at our house in Jersey, it was something different than we've had before. I've gone on a trip to the Jersey Shore annually with some of my best friends that I've known since grade school. This was the first year we went without parents. We booked the house, we bought the groceries, and we had free reign of the neighborhood and the beach. The only downside was picking a week out of the year that happened to be mostly rainy.

While there, though, I got a lot of work done, editing photos, working on website, and updating my t-shirt stock. I wrote a thing or two while there as well. Since getting this handy laptop, I've been able to get a lot of things done in areas I normally wouldn't be expected to.

I played a lot of whiffleball, I got a nice tan, and I was introduced to my new favorite TV show, one of the funniest I've seen in a while, called Party Down.

After a while, though, even that week came to a close, and it was time to pack up and head home finally.

New York always feels amazing to return to, especially after you've been gone for a long time. It's so easy to get wrapped up in the rigors of daily living here, and forget why it is you live here in the first place. Every time I come back from out of town, I remember again. This time, though, it wasn't so easy, because this time it meant returning to work as soon as possible to earn a paycheck and some cash. And it meant returning to struggling and starving to make ends meet. It meant not having enough money to get the unlimited MetroCard that I hold so dear. And it meant facing the daunting tasks of making my career still set in front of me.

I didn't want to face it. I still don't. And the more I give myself a chance to think about it, the more I think that I don't fit in here, that I don't belong.

What am I? I don't know, but I sure don't belong here. The thing is though, if I didn't belong here, where did I belong? I didn't feel like I belonged anyplace I had just been; not Minnesota, not Iowa, not Quincy, and not New Jersey.

Anywhere I went, despite the people I know and love to make up those particular populations, did not make me feel like I wanted to stay. That's the problem with growing up the way I've grown up. I feel connected to so many different places, the result of moving across the country as a youngster, and going to college somewhere else, and finding (hopefully) a career and a wife somewhere else. I feel connected to the people that belong at these places, but I don't feel a connection to these places without those people. I don't have a place to belong to. I am a wayfarer, a troubador.

Travel is second nature to me. I do it so easily. It inspires me. And the only thing that makes me happy is moving along and seeing everybody.

I'm back in New York now, in the place where I always thought I would find myself belonging, but that hasn't happened yet, either. I'm returning to New York to find that many of the friends I've had here for the past year or two are now moving away or have gone. Other friends are exceedingly busy with their own lives and aren't as accessible as they were before. In New York, it's hard to see people repeatedly over short periods of time. Even though the city is so compact, and it's so easy to get around, it's still impossible to track people down unless they live in the same neighborhood as you do.

But that's ok. The ballad of the troubador states that we will meet again. As a troubador, nothing is set in stone. Lots of things are free to change near and far. Life is left to chance and fate.

But even a nomad has to call a place home, sometimes. I just hope that I find what it is exactly I'm supposed to do here. After being back for a few days, though, I still could not decide whether or not I belonged here. I could not decide whether or not I belonged here in New York, or somewhere closer to the rest of my family. The song of the wayfarer is such, that I cannot decide where to plant my feet.

To get me away from my homesickness, I went for a walk through Central Park. That always cheers me up. I walked past the Guggenheim Museum and it hit me. I stopped in my tracks and pulled out my phone to take a picture. I suddenly remembered why I live in New York. Exactly for things like that. It was a beautiful summer day. The grass was green and the sun was setting. The way the light reflected off the Guggenheim was simply breathtaking, and it inspired awe in me, so much so that I had to stop and think about it.

Ultimately, I think I want to call Manhattan home, though I don't feel I'm worthy of it quite yet. Manhattan is the reason I moved here, after all. I discovered Brooklyn almost by a fluke, but I'm certainly glad I did. It's the poor man's New York and it has a flavor all its own. Plus I can get to Manhattan anytime I want. Heck if I go one more flight up, I can look at it from my rooftop. There is a lot that might actually keep me here in Brooklyn. Maybe in the future, I might change my mind about Manhattan altogether.

For now, I am still a wayfarer, continuously searching for my destination.

Congrats, Grad! Now, What? I'm off to save the world!

A young man or woman walks into his or her guidance counselor's office with only a vague idea of what to talk about. The goal of this conversation is to figure out what colleges or universities said student should apply to, or if this student should even apply at all. This student, with the help of his or her guidance counselor wants to know what he or she should do with the rest of his or her life.

So many choices. So many options. How is one to know what the best choice is for him or herself?

The guidance counselor does not know the best way to alleviate this quandary, so he or she might ask the student, "well, what do you want to do?"

For many people, that is the worst question in the world to have to answer. If anybody had any idea what it was they wanted to do, would they seek guidance in the first place? Or would they seek what it is that they want?

When I was in high school, I had a vague idea of what I wanted to do. I did not know what it was, but I knew I wanted to do something big and profound. By the end of my high school career, my mission in life was to "change the world."

Vague and maybe somewhat difficult to gauge, but simple, nonetheless.

"Well, what is it that you want to do?"
"Nothing much, just to change the world."

(I've always had very grand plans for myself, but no method by which to actually execute them).

So, the guidance counselors don't know what to do in this situation, so they just give you the best suggestions they can come up with. They tell the student to go see an assortment of higher learning institutions, and pick one that suits him or her the best. If the student ends up not liking it, nothing will keep him or her there. Who knows? Maybe the student will end up getting a scholarship. It's worth looking into.

Let's say this student ends up going to a college or a university. Any old one, it doesn't much matter, because no matter where the student ends up, he or she winds up in his or her adviser's office, asking the next of all important questions, "What should I major in?"

To which the most common response is often the same of that was asked to the student not two years ago, "well, what is it you want to do?"

Even after two years of deep, provoking thought and self-examination, it can be difficult to answer this question.

But at this point in the student's college career, problems have arisen, and the world can no longer be changed in the conventional sense, yet it can at least be agreed that the world must be saved. And so the focus of the student in question will undoubtedly be on deciding what major and, in turn, college degree, is best for saving the world.

How to decide? How to choose? There are so many areas in which the world needs saving, and yet you are only one person. You could save the world by way of chemistry, economics, literature, or sociology. You could save the world by any number of ways that have not been discovered yet.

The aforementioned adviser will not know how to address this contemplation, either, and he or she will probably say something along the lines of, "well, just do what you like."

It's actually sound advice.

If a person performs a task that he or she enjoys, that person is more likely to perform that task well, even if it doesn't garner a great deal of wealth or notoriety. But that's not what we're talking about here. That's not the point of going to college, any how. We're talking about how best to save the world.

Even if a person doesn't know what he or she wants to do, chances are he or she will be able to find a way to save even a small section of the world by doing what he or she enjoys.

Getting the degree is a right of passage any more. It does not necessarily prepare anyone for the post-college experience. Not much can prepare a person for such things until one actually goes through it.

But when you hit trouble, when you hit rough times, at the very least you have your degree to act as a security blanket.

No degree will save you from having to start from scratch and actually figure out your life. Sometimes it takes multiple tries. But at the very least, one can take comfort in knowing that you're not actually doing it for yourself, but instead to save the world.

In some ways, I feel that college is a waste of time. It postpones the inevitable, it adds an unnecessary four years to adolescence. I am now three years removed from the college experience, and I'm not any closer to saving the world. It took me these last three years to leave behind the comforts of college and actually figure out my life (see above).

I can look back at the years of college and the years immediately following and say that I received a great education. People who didn't attend college can't necessarily say that, but it doesn't make them any less smart than people who did go to college. Furthermore, education has never made any one individual a better person than anybody else. Being educated and able to think critically about things and derive logical solutions doesn't make you a better person. Heck, three hundred years ago, almost nobody went to college, and in the grand scheme of things, we're really not that far removed from then.

For the people who spend half their lives in college, they have missed out on what it's like to not go to college. And vice versa. Anybody who hasn't worked in the kitchen of a restaurant doesn't know what it's like to be in there six days a week in unnatural heat, preparing meals that are just going to be consumed for their nutrients and then disposed of. And those people don't realize that they are being unreasonable when they ask for their food a certain way.

Four years of college doesn't necessarily teach a person manners.

But for every person who does something wrong or makes a mistake, there is another person trying to do right or correct that mistake. We're all trying to save the world, whether we graduated from college or not. And whether we do it in dry cleaning, insurance, food service, or entertainment law, we are all going to be part of the problem and part of the solution.

Congratulations on getting the degree, but unfortunately, it's not the degree that counts. It's your labor and contribution. There are people out there who need saving. Let's get to work.

Time to Panic

We are too busy to concern ourselves with problems too small. So we keep our problems at bay until they get out of hand. And then we they get out of hand, they get out of control!

And then it's time to panic. And despite what anybody says, people love a good panic.

If you think about all the news stories that have occurred over the past year, of any that come to mind, none of them are subtle. All of them are extreme! And the way the media has reported things, it has been one crisis after the other.

First global warming, then the economy, job losses, bank bailouts, auto industry, and swine flu. It never gets old. The news has no sympathy for its public when it comes to reporting their stories. They have neither a shortage of shameless journalists willing to take on the task nor shortness of breath if they can keep you listening. They'll do it anyway they feel like. As long as they get people to watch and read.

So when it comes to figuring out why it has come to this point, when all we pay attention to are emergencies, crises, and panics, who is to blame? Is it the media for giving us the news the only way we'll hear it, or is it us for building up a deficit to attention so large that we only really heed information when it is beyond our grasp?

We have too many watchers and waiters, and not enough doers and problem solvers. People need to realize that they are responsible for whatever action they take, even if is inaction.

We can't keep piling crises on top of one another because we will never get anywhere. There is a reason that "haste makes waste" is a saying, and it is because the saying is. And time and again, it gets proven.

Take charge of something before you actually have to, otherwise you'll get caught in a position you don't want to be in.

Our Fathers/Crossing the Threshold Into Adulthood

When we were younger we never realized how good we had it. When we were younger we didn't have a full understanding of what love was. We didn't understand adulthood, money, work, or family. We were just kids. We went to school, we took class pictures, we played at recess, and we had sleepovers. We went through the motions of a privileged childhood.

And even though our childhoods weren't adorned with taxi cabs, rich woven bedspreads, and expensive dinners, we still got to school on time. We all got our shots. And we were able to play on the basketball team. What more could kids ask for? We didn't know that we were privileged. We didn't know what all we had.

We didn't know that while we played Power Rangers with our friends after school, our dads were toiling away to make sure the lives we had were good enough. We didn't know the purpose behind singing in the choir, performing Christmas pageants, or playing tee ball.

But now that we're older, we've grown up, and we see that we never could have been the same if it weren't for tee ball.

What if I hadn't spent those summers coming up the ranks of the little league field? Would I be the same person today? Would I have the same friends? How much would our lives be different if our fathers hadn't wanted us to play little league baseball?

We sucked down juice boxes and dreamed of big league glory when all the while our fathers stood on the sideline coaching us to be the men and women that they wanted us to be.

We didn't know then that some day we'd have to grow up and replace the men that formed us. We didn't know at that time we would someday be expected to coach and to lead others.

There comes a point in growing up when you realize your life is never again going to be the same as it once was. When you realize that, and you move forward with your own life, and begin to take care of others besides yourself, it is then that you reach adulthood. I come to so many situations now in my life when I feel I am giving advice or instruction to those around me who are younger or more inexperienced than I am, and it makes me feel like an adult to be in that situation. It's strange to be my age and to be able to say, "well, when I was in your shoes, I did this..." But it keeps coming up.

It's hard to believe that I have grown up at all, but I guess when I look back at things, and look at how much more my younger siblings still have to face, I realize that I actually have come a long way.

My younger brothers are growing up in a completely different way than I and my sister did, and I'll probably never get over that. I'll never feel like they got the experiences that I did. They didn't get exposed to the same things, and more so, they don't appreciate the same things that I did and do now. This upsets me. But there is a generational gap among us and there will be more generational gaps among other groups further on down the line in society.

This is why our fathers passed down their behaviors to us to pass down to others. This is why they struggled so hard to make us appreciate what we had. We used to recite the Our Father and the Pledge of Allegiance day after day, not knowing what any of it really meant.

We used to sing in unison, "My country 'tis of thee/sweet land of liberty/of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died/land of thy pilgrim's pride..."

We referred to our fathers often, and without hesitation.

Now that our fathers have died, and this land becomes ours, will we know what to do with it?

Want Ad

Say what you want about Craigslist being a resource to stalk and kill people, but it is also a very useful tool to find people that you need at very short notice.

I had a recent spout of success when I posted four ads for four completely different things, and managed to find secure and reliable responses for all of them.

As does almost everything in my life, a few crucial elements all fell into place at the last minute before I departed on my one-month sabbatical from New York. Without any time to lose, and to make the most of my resources, my job was to set up a photo shoot for my t-shirt venture, find someone to sublet my room, secure a means to travel across the country and carry my cargo, find a way back, and prepare the way for my new roommate.

In one week, I managed to find several no-fee models for the photo shoot. I actually had to turn some away because I got so many responses.

While sorting through pretty faces to help sell my t-shirts, I found a subletter to rent my room while I would be gone on my Midwestern field trip.

With somebody taking my place while I was gone, I had to make sure it was all set up and ready to go before I left, especially since we just got a new roommate, aside from the subletter.

The new roommate was bringing with him a TV, bigger and flatter than the one we had previously. So, my job in this case was to sell the old TV and use the money to purchase a home theater system. Naturally I thought of Craigslist. I put an ad up for the old TV and had it sold and delivered by the end of the day. The home theater was as good as ours.


With that taken care of, my room occupied while I would be gone, my photo shoot all set up, and some money in my pocket, I set out to see if I could work another deal with the half-empty moving truck I would be driving halfway across the country to Illinois. It just so happened that there was a couple who needed some things moved to the Midwest from New York at the same time I happened to be traveling. They responded to my ad on Craigslist and we set up an arrangement without ever having met each other.

It was Sunday, the day before I was to leave. They packed my moving truck while I was at my photo shoot. After the photo shoot was over, I went back to get the truck, finish packing up my remaining things, and prepare for the next day. The next day I drove the truck to Cleveland, where I met friends of the guy who the stuff belonged to. After emptying my truck, I collected my fee, and moved along home, where I completed my journey the next day.

The photo shoot went smoothly. The pictures turned out really great.
The home theater is all set up and ready to play.
And the subletter moved in without a hitch and is living quite comfortably with my two roommates while I'm away.

These things might not have worked out in a city that's not so Craigslist-centric as New York is. In New York, Craigslist is the resource used most often, by professionals and amateurs alike to find housing, employment, and love, three of the most important things in life. And it is soundly based in trust of one person to another.

It is unfortunate in some cases when that trust gets broken and people get hurt. But when trust is implemented and used appropriately, there is nothing to lose.

Something Sweet

In a city of 8 million people, a person goes through his or her life, meeting so many. So many of them are, in a way, disposable. It's not a nice way of putting it, but you meet them, you shrug it off, and if you never saw them again it wouldn't make a bit of difference to you. But every once in a while, every so often, you'll meet somebody who actually does something for you. You'll meet somebody who actually makes you want to do something with your life, who makes you want to get off your ass and accomplish something that might impress the person next time you see them.

In this case, I'm talking, of course, about a nice girl. It is so hard to meet a nice girl in this city. A nice girl who doesn't have serious issues about her own self-image, who doesn't just want to use you for sex or emotional support, a nice girl who isn't so wrapped up in her career that she doesn't have time for friends or family. Just a nice girl, who has problems all her own and who is just trying to get through life like you are. A nice girl who can hold a conversation without boring you to death, who is funny, and interesting, and very cute.

You never know when or where you are going to find one, because they are a rare and beautiful bird. They come to rest every once in a while in a cherry tree, by a lake, or in a coffee shop. Bystanders will point them out from afar with their binoculars. "Look at the plummage!" they'll say. But before you know it, they'll fly away to put their dazzling spell on some other innocent sap. They are startled easily, so if you're going to attempt to talk to one you can't make loud sudden noises, use harsh language, or incredible sweeping gestures. You have to be dainty, like them, and coyly make their acquaintance without giving away that you are a preying cat of seduction.

It also helps if you have birdseed, a.k.a. money. But you can't just throw it at them and pretend like that's going to keep them in your company. How many birds do you know that like getting pelted with sunflower seeds? No, you just have to be able to provide it when necessary. So when she looks at you with her longing eyes, you can tell what she wants, and be able to say, "Yes, I was thinking the same thing. How about ice cream?"

These nice girls are out there. And fittingly enough, there are nice guys in here. To enjoy movies with, and the weather, and travel. Being a single nice guy in a big city, I often find myself living vicariously through my friends who are couples. I think to myself, "awww" they are so great. I am secretly jealous, and I wish I could have the same experiences now as my couple friends are having. Always having somebody to count on to do things with, who has the same interests, and who doesn't think you are crazy based on meeting you once.

But at the same time, I'm not ready for a relationship right now, because I'm too busy. I literally don't have time to care for a partner because I'm trying to survive and fend for myself, and also keep in good relations with all my family and friends, which is sometimes a full time job. If I had a partner, I would think I would not give her the time and credit which she would be desiring, which would leave the relationship feeling sour and ultimately tasteless.

Maybe that thought process would change, however, if I just met the right one.

My nice girl who would make everything sweet again.

A Survey

I came out of the deli and was confronted by a child who was conducting a survey. He was having a debate with his friend, a child of similar age and stature. The question he so sincerely posed to me was, "who do you think is better, Biggie or Li'l Wayne?"

I grappled with the question at first, but once I finally calculated my answer, I gave it to him. "Biggie," I replied.

"See?" the child pointed out to his friend, "that's 12-1!" Biggie clearly had the advantage in the survey at this point as the superior rapper.

I'm not sure how official the survey was, the gentleman did not show his credentials, but I gave my vote, nonetheless, and he seemed satisfied in it.

Finally, my opinion counts for something.

Special Delivery, Emphasis on Special

Not only did Osama Bin Laden kill a lot of people and ruin a lot of lives, but he also made it terribly inconvenient to gain access to any kind of tall, important building in New York City, making it very difficult for delivery boys, which is something I have embodied as of late.

In order to deliver a package or pick up a package, you need to come prepared with a photo I.D., a major credit card, a specific reason for being there, and a plan for getting out. You are subject to search, and you may have to go through a metal detector if it is a really important building. And if you carry something like a pocketknife, which I do, you are placed under high suspicion.

"What is this? A pocket knife? Why do you have this?"

"Well, gosh, I don't know, sometimes, I just want to cut things..."

Let me tell you something about sarcasm. Many people, a lot of people, like it. They use it. It amuses them. It can be an effective form of communication for them. But for people who don't communicate in sarcasm, those people who don't like it, boy, do they ever hate it when a person like me gives them a response like that one.

Those types of people might say that I have an "attitude."

I don't think I have an attitude. I think under most circumstances, I am a pretty reasonable human being. Let me tell you what happened today. I went to deliver a package. I went directly to the address written on the package. When I got to the address, I walked in and met a doorman. The doorman told me I had come in the wrong entrance, and I was to turn around, exit the way I came in, and walk around the side of the building to the delivery entrance on the adjacent street.

Most buildings in Manhattan, office buildings especially, have certain protocol to follow when a delivery is being made, especially when it is something in bulk quantity. A lot of times there is a separate entrance for delivery people around the back or even a whole office that deals with those types: deliveries, couriers, messengers, packages, and mail. This is just a theory, but it somehow seems strangely derivative of segregation, even though New York is not in the South. At any rate, it certainly makes me feel like a second-class citizen when I go into the main entrance of a building and am consequently told by the man to use the "separate but equal" entrance on the side. It's discrimination of some kind, and I don't like it.

So as I faced the doorman of the north entrance, I could see the front desk from the side. The lobby, in the case of this building, was T-shaped. If I had come in the main entrance, where the doorman was now instructing me to go, I would have faced the front desk head on. But since I came in the north entrance, I was at the side. He stopped me from going any further and asked if I worked in the building. I told him I did not, and that's when he made his plea for me to use the entrance on the adjacent street. But I complained, and I said, "but isn't that the front desk right there?"
He said, "are you hearing what I am saying?"

So, I turned and walked out. And then I came in the main entrance, showed my ID at the security desk, and made my way to the elevators, which was just at the doorman's back. I could have mischievously kicked his behind on my way upstairs, but I did not. I went along making my delivery and that was that.

On a separate occasion in a different building, I was delivering something and upon entering the lobby, I found it to be very crowded and confusing with people rushing to try to get to their respective elevators. As it turns out, though, all the people I was rushed around with were part of an elaborate system that I was not yet aware of. All these people had ID's to get into the building, it turns out, which I did not. When I approached the desk and informed them of my delivery status, the desk worker became impatient with me and merely shouted for me to go to "the center! the center!" So, naturally, I went for the middle turnstile. But this was wrong, and he kept yelling and pointing. What he meant actually was the "messenger center," just to the right of the turnstiles. I sometimes forget to explain to people that I'm from the Midwest, and I don't always understand the New York speak. The "messenger center" is a place where delivery personnel go to distribute their delivered goods. They are like customs agents for the building. If someone brings in a foreign object, for instance a turkey sandwich in a brown bag, they are the first to inspect it, make sure the turkey is fresh, make sure it's not actually a bomb, and then send it on upstairs to its rightful owner. For this exercise, I checked in with "the center" and had to be escorted upstairs, including having the elevator buttons pressed for me, so I could drop off a check, something nobody would turn away, even if it was a little explosive.

All this in the name of security.

Training Like an Athlete

I recently lost a bit of weight. Apparently, it was very noticeable to people who hadn't seen me in a long time. Many people asked how I did it, and a few were worried for my health and safety. They needn't worry.

Over the last several months, I have successfully whipped myself into the best shape of my life. It was no small feat. It has taken a lot of discipline, a change of lifestyle, and a concern for health and fitness that outweighs the desire to be lazy and unproductive. I am happy with the improved results, but I still do not think I am finished.

I adopted the mindset that I was in training for something really important. I'm not sure what that is at this point, it could just be the rest of my life. That's pretty important, I suppose. If I want to live a while longer, I will have to be able to be healthy and fit, so I can do all the things I want to do.

When in training, the mental challenge is what you have to overcome. Physicality can be worked at, but the self-discipline and mental stamina is what keeps you going and keeps you moving. If you force yourself into it mentally, your body will follow through physically.

And when you think you've gotten to the end of your exercise, you have to push yourself farther if you want to excel. If you eventually want to perform like an athlete, you have to train like one.

That attitude translates to more than just exercise. If you want to be a great writer, you've got to work on it. You've got to hone your skills, you've got to trim your proverbial fat, you've got to discipline yourself, and practice everyday. It's the same way if you want to be a great musician, firefighter, tax attorney, or museum curator.

If your labor is your passion, if it is what you love to do, than you have to treat it as a reward to yourself. If you set small goals for yourself, things that you can accomplish on a day-by-day basis, you'll set yourself up for small rewards along the way. Think of it this way, "If I run 5 miles and eat really healthy today, I can have a bowl of ice cream tomorrow." The memory of that ice cream is what keeps you running the five miles. You know how good it tastes, so that's why you want to keep running.

That's just an example. No, you can't eat a bowl of ice cream everyday.

But there will be days when you can eat more ice cream than normal. Just as soon as you finish that novel you've always wanted to write.

Everybody else out there is training harder than you right now. If you want to be a player in the game, if you even want to be drafted, you've got to train like you belong in the game. Then, once the game gets going, you have to train even harder. Athletes don't ease their way into the playoffs, and if you want to make it to the Super Bowl, well then you'd better be ready to play when the coach calls your number.

Training is a continual process, and one should not get discouraged when one encounters failure. Failure should motivate you to do better, to train harder. The Super Bowl is within reach. Athletes do it. What makes you any different?

If you want to make it to the Super Bowl of Football, the Super Bowl of Gingerbread Houses, the Super Bowl of Super Bowl parties, or the Super Bowl of glassblowing, you have a chance. Go for it.

Find what you love to do. Love it. Then do it.

Barack of Fire

This fall American politics was something to be marveled at as the Presidential race grew tighter and drew closer to election day. I found myself not only paying attention, but actually kind of liking one of the candidates.

Never before did I have such an interest in the Presidential election. I have always thought it was important, though I barely paid attention. This year, though, it was different. I was actually kind of excited. I regularly watched the news and tried to make myself aware of each of the candidates and the coverage surrounding them. It was like watching a sporting event. Somehow, I became engrossed, and less interested in other things.

On Election Day, I voted as did millions of other Americans.
That night I watched the coverage on the TV eagerly anticipating the outcome.

As the votes were tallied and the states got colored in on the map, it resembled a basketball game or a football game, each team getting closer to the magic number as time was expiring.


I heard people outside my window shrilling with enthusiasm before I heard the networks declare Obama the victor. Brooklyn went berserk. The neighborhood was boisterous as their candidate secured the election. I went to the rooftop with my roommates to try to get a feel for the atmosphere. Other people were on rooftops. People in apartments and in the street were yelling and screaming. Cars blared their horns as they drove down Bedford Avenue. I added to the ruckus by banging a kitchen pot with a spoon (the poor man's noisemaker) along with some standard hootin' and hollerin'.

What surprised me more than the near landslide victory of Obama over McCain was the reaction from the neighborhood and the immediate celebration and the effervescence that it seemed to create. It was rowdier than when the Giants won the Super Bowl. Fireworks continued well into the morning hours, delaying my sleep.

Then when the concession and victory speeches were made, I was not only impressed by what each of the candidates had to say, I was moved. I couldn't believe how swept up I had become in this movement. I surprised myself.

I suppose, though, it has more to do with the candidate I was rooting for than my own personal stake in politics, which is only slight.

Barack Obama was a different kind of candidate than had ever run for President before. He was new and exciting. He was eloquent, articulate, sensible, steadfast, and informed. He is the kind of person, at least to me, that not only do I not mind listening to him, I'm also kind of interested in what he has to say.

What he did in the campaign and in the election was to make the process not only tolerable, but interesting. It wasn't the same old bread and butter the American people have been fed every four years. It was encouraging and inviting and yet mind-bogglingly simple. The outcome had to be different.

No matter how you feel about Obama, the one thing that can be said about him is that he certainly draws a crowd. We have been looking for someone like him in politics for a very long time. Too often the public has condemned its politicians as opponents instead of friends. Every election came down to the argument of who was the lesser of two evils. After such a long period of time where the politicians in Washington have done their best to exercise their power and alienate the American people, it was about time when we had somebody at the forefront who could unite us again. We are, after all, the United States of America.

Obama is a man who, like many public figures before him, has the wherewithall and the fortitude to rally people behind him responsibly and move us forward to accomplish things that are ideally American, and to follow through until completion. This is the kind of leadership that America needs now, that every country needs all the time.

His victory signals a new kind of political landscape in the U.S. Not everything is going to be fixed or even helped, and certainly not right away. It does not mean we are on easy street now, and it certainly does not mean he is not worthy of being wary of. A large portion of the country will be concerned with the things he has to say and with his transition and progress into the position of President. We all should be. It is our right as Americans.

No matter what you have to say about Obama's character, his track record, his strengths or weaknesses, what he has done as a Presidential candidate has brought us together, the majority of us anyway. Those with a clear head will listen to what he has to say despite how they voted, and go along with what they think is in the best interest of the country. Even though we are all different, Obama appeals to us as a leader.

America has changed. We are changing continuously. We are finding new ways to voice our opinions, to accomplish our goals, to communicate with each other, and to advance as a country. We are strong. We are different than most nations. We are colorful and thoughtful. We are black, white, gay, straight, old, young, and a million other things. But when inauguration day comes, and every day following, we all know the words to "America, the Beautiful."

Man vs. Nature

For centuries, mankind has struggled to find its place in the natural world. The human race has persistently been searching for balance with nature, and has never really found it.

Human beings are the one species that has evolved to a point beyond any other creature on earth, in that we have the ability to fiddle with nature. Mankind has moved beyond the instinctual and naturalistic behaviors that control other animals on the Earth. Man has invented industry and technology and has used its intelligence to progress further than what animals can do. Consequently, we have changed the entire direction of the world in our wake.

We created society. We built cities. We created agriculture. We organized, we explored, we conquered. No other species covers the earth like we do. We changed everything to how we wanted it. First, we lived in the dwellings and took the paths that nature provided us. Then, when they proved insufficient, we created our own dwellings and paths. We built streets, buildings, canals, bridges. We grew, we progressed.

Humans really took over the earth. We did what we wanted. We killed what we had to. We demolished what was necessary to get out of the way. We cleared a path for our own way of life.

But while we've lived our own way of life, separated from the natural way of things, we've always had to contend with nature, because no matter how much we try to separate ourselves from it, human beings will always be a part of it. Humankind has always kind of struggled with that, in my opinion.

There has never been one consensus of the way to live on this earth and still be one with the earth. We were more concerned with living with people. We created government, infrastructure, religion, capitalism, while always having free thought. And so we have things like litter, pollution, holes in ozone layers, smog, and recycling. There have always been people who have had no concern for what kind of problems, if any, we as a human race created and passed on to our creator, Mother Earth. And there have long been people who were very in touch with nature, and spoke out against the evils of treating Mother Earth like a doormat.

Gradually, these people's voices were heard. PSA's were made to demonstrate to the public audience the effects of litter and pollution and the disregard for the "correct" treatment of the earth. The naysayers have always said "nay" and at the same time, more and more people jumped on the "treehugger" bandwagon and promoted their agenda of education, conservation, and prevention of natural disaster.

In the twenty-first century, the battle between man and nature has heightened to extremes, and it seems, or at least we're being told now, that the situation is dire, and that direct action has to be taken immediately in order to prevent a catastrophic future. A certain Presidential candidate released a film detailing the drastic measures human beings' war against nature has taken. It won an Oscar.

The battle of man vs. nature can be seen anywhere. One of my favorite examples is the simple image of a weed or a small plant popping up in the cracks in a sidewalk. Even though man has put a sidewalk over the ground, nature has no intention of altering its course, and when it seizes an opportunity to bust through, it does.

A person can take whatever side he or she wants in the battle of man vs. nature. In the case of the weed in the sidewalk, a person may take the side that the weed is exactly that, a weed, and does not belong. This person might take the next measure to kill the weed and remove it from said sidewalk. On the other hand, as in my case, a person might root for the weed, exclaiming, "Go, little plant, go! Don't let a little bit of cement stop you!"

In going outside yesterday, I stumbled upon a rather unusual sight. It was an image, in my mind that perfectly captured the endless struggle that is man vs. nature. There was a city fire hydrant that had apparently been leaking and spraying water out into the street for several hours or days. It had obviously been leaking for quite a while, because, in the bitter cold that recently descended upon the city of New York, the leaky hydrant's emission has frozen and created an icicle almost an entire city block long.

Pictured here, the ice mass forms around the fire hydrant immediately, then stretches along the sidewalk downhill to the corner and across the street to the next block. Upon discovering massive ice cube, I found it very amusing. What was more amusing, though, was that after checking in on it later, I noticed the city sanitation department had driven by and thrown a bunch of sand on top of it.

Rather than send the fire deparment out to attend to the hydrant, and fix the leak, the city of New York apparently decided that all that was necessary was just to throw some sand on it.



No matter which side of the man vs. nature argument you take, there is one common thread that should tie everything together. That thread is efficiency.

When we decide as a society that we want to become efficient, all people will benefit from it in the long run. Nobody loses when we are all efficient (except those who benefit from making the rest of us inefficient, i.e. gas companies, car companies that power their cars by fossil fuels, and banks that loan out Monopoly money). When we run our cities, businesses, and homes in ways to educate consumers, to waste less, conserve more, and reuse what we can, we will all end up saving ourselves time, money, energy, and space.

It starts with the individual and the individual mindset. There has to be a conscious decision made. "What day am I going to switch to compact flourescent light bulbs? Tomorrow? Next week?"
"What day am I going to stop wasting energy? Tomorrow? Next week?"
"What day am I going to stop wasting my life? Tomorrow? Next week?"

Why not stop wasting right now? And start being efficient as soon as you finish reading this sentence?

What do you have to lose?

Exactly.

Eventually, we will streamline the way society functions. We'll make less mistakes, and we'll leave less mess behind to clean up. We will develop ways to find balance with nature. We'll use natural sources of energy, like the sun, the wind, and moving water.

The battle of man vs. nature is a long, hard-fought one. But if we keep going the way we're going, we're going to find that we are going to lose. It will only be when we team up and find a balance with nature that we will be able take on the challenges of everyday life, and we will better prepare ourselves for the next great challenge: an alien invasion.

We all know it's going to happen eventually. We might as well get all the mileage we can out of our great planet before some locust society comes swooping in and takes it out from under us.

New Year, New Focus

I've always been different. I knew when I was younger. I just felt different than the rest of the kids.

I embraced it. I learned to love being different, and I made it a point to stand out from the crowd. When other people were conforming, I did everything in my power to go the other way. It wasn't that I was disagreeable or contrary, I just enjoyed being different.

And so I grew up that way, and it has stuck with me. I'm always trying to take the path that not many have ventured down before, I'm trying to do things differently than the people who came before me and definitively from the people around me.

I think, so far, I've done a pretty good job of standing out from the crowd, but last week I received definite proof. I was on my way back to New York, driving to the airport, when I received a phone call from my sister. That seems pretty ordinary, I know, but she called after just being in my presence an hour earlier. She could have asked me then what she was about to ask me now, but she didn't. For whatever reason, she waited to ask me a very important, singular question, and made a special phone call just for it.

You know your life is taking a different shape than most other people's when you get asked this question, "Do you have any need for a hula skirt?...I'm cleaning out my closet, and I found one, but I don't need it. Do you want it?"

For most other people in this world, I would say this is an unusual question, it was being directed towards a Polynesian woman, or even to a woman, in general. But for a 24-year-old male to be asked this question by his younger sister is a little absurd. At least it would be for anyone else. But for me, I've come to accept that this is completely normal.

It led me to wonder what kind of life I had been leading to be receiving this question at such an odd time. As the circumstances would have it, I was traveling to my destination with my sister's boyfriend's family, and I was doing my best to make that situation as comfortable as possible. If that weren't bizarre enough to begin with, I now have to field a phone call in which the only information being exchanged is whether or not I am in need of a second-hand hula skirt.

How bizarre, indeed.

The funny part is, I actually had to think about it. Hmmm, could I use a hula skirt? You never know when one could come in handy.

It wouldn't be so out of the ordinary for me to own a hula skirt, as I have at one point in my life owned a coconut bra.

Why?

Because my life permitted me the opportunity of owning a coconut bra with little or no cost to me, so I seized it. Furthermore, it was very entertaining.

But now the task at hand was to determine how urgent my need was for a hula skirt. Do I want my sister's hula skirt or not? She's wasting minutes here.

I opted for the negative. I figured, it would be too much hassle for her to send the hula skirt to me via mail, seeing as I had already left home. Plus, if I really needed a hula skirt when I got back to New York, chances are I would be able to find one pretty quickly and at short notice. As one might imagine, costume shops are plentiful in New York City. They are proportionate to the number of characters that roam the streets, which is quite a large number.

After I answered my sister, I asked her if there was any other reason for which she had called. "No, that's it," she said. And we hung up.

I have not determined what turns and choices I have made in my life that led me to such a ridiculous exchange of conversation, but it seems that my life has had a course set for it. It is defined, first of all, by having a tight group of people who all love each other and share ideas, have similar thought processes and look out for one another (i.e. my family: God bless my sister for thinking of my interests before she threw out that hula skirt). Secondly, it's about having a sense of humor about the things that happen in your life, be they happy, sad, traumatic, funny, or ridiculous, and being able to get through them. Thirdly, and most importantly, it's about being able to share that with others; either through writing about it or storytelling, or just sharing of time and energy to pass on those good feelings to others.

I have a massive backlog of ideas, themes, stories, and other things that I have been keeping track of for the past several years. My focus for this year is to bring all my ideas forward and have them be heard and known by other people, more than any of my years past. That is my goal for this year.

Happy New Year! May 2009 be pleasant to you and bring you many happy memories.

Lessons Learned in 2008: Do's and Dont's

2008 was a landmark year for several people, including me, and I learned a great many lesson throughout the year.

I've cataloged them into the areas of "do's" and "don'ts". They are things that I've learned throughout the year that I feel may be useful to others.

DO:

1. Quit your job when it is appropriate.

For instance: when you have found something better or when you can't stand it to go in for even one more day.

2. Throw great parties.

Some people don't get invited to a lot of things, so they instead invite others in what they have. I'm one of those people, and I love sharing. People remember you for that. If you do get invited somewhere, be gracious, offer something, and don't leave a mess.

I can't say that all my parties are great, but I had a good time, I enjoyed bringing people together, and I think others enjoyed being together, too.

3. Honor and cherish your grandparents.

I lost two this year, and I am grateful for every moment I was able to spend with each of them. Life is short. And nobody is ever ready for it to end when it does. Take advantage of the time you have to share with people while they are alive. Learn from them, hear their stories, and listen to what they have to say, even if you don't always agree with it.

4. Change your lifestyle.

Give your life a whole shake-up. This is a six-parter:
-Try new things.

In trying new things, you will break your current social cycle, you'll meet new people, you may even accomplish something you've always wanted, but never had the guts to do before.

-Expand your network.
In the process of trying new things, you will meet new people. It is essential that you make a good impression. People will remember you, they will refer to you, and in doing so, you will be connected to more people than you were before. Take names, phone numbers, and email addresses, and keep up contact with people. Find opportunities to help others, and others will be inclined to help you.

-Pursue your dreams.
In your own personal quest for greatness, you're going to have to do things differently than people before you or around you, and that is going to ruffle a few feathers. You'll get questioned and you'll get criticized, but don't let it bother you. You have to accept your strengths and weaknesses just like everybody else, and as long as you have a passion for what it is you want to do, and you have the will to follow through with it, that's all that matters.

-Follow through/up.

If you have made a decision for yourself, see it through to completion. Don't skimp or cut corners. Work hard to finish what you started. You'll feel like you accomplished something and then when you turn around and look back, you'll find you actually did.

And when you are expecting people to get back to you, and they don't, don't be afraid to pick up the phone and call them. If you have a legitimate reason to talk to them, they shouldn't be startled when they hear from you. It's when you call them without a good reason that they start to wonder about you.

-Document your progress.

One thing I did very well this year is document my progress. There is not a single idea, theme, or shred of creativity that I came up with this year that I did not write down somewhere. I may not have things completely organized as of yet, or published in the order I would like (for you blog fans, I apologize I have slacked off in recent months), but writing things down is the first step towards bringing your ideas to fruition, and I can organize and develop ideas later, but if I don't have them written down, most likely they will be gone and forgotten.

Writing things down accelerates your creative process, it helps you remember things, and it keeps you in the habit of writing, something which you lose the value of if you don't do it.

Writing things down also serves as a first back-up, in case the action you're writing about fails. Backing up information is very important, because things will fail, and you don't want to be left stranded when they do.

-Accept advice.

Sometimes you get advice without asking for it. People want to share their ideas with you or their input. Even if you don't care for what they are saying, or if you don't think their opinion is particularly applicable to you at the current time, take what they have to say in gratitude. Accept it. It is good to know they think you worthy of their opinion and that they would like to try to help you out, even if only in wisdom. Besides, you never know when their advice might be applicable later.

5. Minimize.

Find the things you want to focus on in life, and get rid of the excess clutter, or at least put it in storage until you have more time to use it. I never realized how much my room and my life was cluttered until I started getting rid of excess stuff. I kind of pulled a St. Francis of Assisi this year with a lot of my possessions. I haven't reached sainthood yet, but I'm trying.

Donate to charity, give to friends, make some money off eBay. If you're not using something, chances are there is someone out there who could, and they might appreciate you even more.

This also works with tasks. Multi-tasking is wonderful when it can be accomplished, but sometimes it causes more anxiety than fulfillment. Focus on small things you can accomplish one-at-a-time before you try to do a hundred things at once.

6. Get yourself in shape.

People will take notice, they'll look at you differently. Not only will you look better, but you will feel amazing. I can't really describe how I felt after I lost 40 pounds, but I've never had as much energy as I do now, and I've never felt more confident in my endeavors.

(Note: this takes dedication and extreme self-discipline. If you ask me how I did it, I will probably not give you a straight answer because every person has to find out their own will and way to success and feel comfortable with themselves doing it.)

If you succeed, though, it will change your lifestyle and your way of thinking. It will clear your body as well as your mind.

7. Surround yourself with people who share your same ideals and goals.

Even if these people aren't doing the exact same thing as you, it will help you succeed if you find people who act similarly to you and who motivate you to do things. You may not help each other out all the time, but when you work together, you will keep everything in motion and in a good direction.

Think of it as a car engine. Not all the cylinders fire at once, but they rotate and take turns firing. They work together to keep the car running.

8. Be there.

You don't get as much out of an experience by just looking at the pictures or reading about it later. And it means so much to people if you actually show up to something, especially if it was difficult for you to get there or if you were unexpected. Being there physically makes a much bigger impression than just corresponding over the phone or the computer.

More importantly, you experience the things you are supposed to experience first-hand. Things happen once in a lifetime. If you miss something, you may not be able to regret not being there, but if you show up and experience something, you'll be able to remember it and talk about it the rest of your life.

9. Listen to Andrew Bird

Armchair Apocrypha was probably my most listened to album of 2008. The lyrics are dark and harrowing at parts, but man can that guy whistle.

10. Grow up.

It's ok, you're twenty-four now.

DON'T:

1. Carry your wallet in your back pocket, especially when surrounded by a crowd of people.

I knew this before, but decided to test my luck repeatedly, until it was actually lifted from me. Fortunately for me, I retrieved it.

2. Relentlessly pursue a girl who has a boyfriend/just broke up with her boyfriend, no matter how much you think you like each other. She needs time and space. If you you don't give her both those things, you won't even give her a chance to think about you, and you will only wind up embarrassing yourself.

Also, it might help if you weren't so weird.

3. Send out mass emails.

When people get mass emails that they haven't asked for, they hate it. Or so I've heard.

4a. Waste money on things that won't pay off later.

Everything that I bought in the last six months, I would consider an investment. It will either provide learning or money in the next six months...hopefully.

4b. Accumulate more debt, if you already have enough.

This is an unfortunate situation to be in that starts off slow, but accelerates very quickly. Unless you can efficiently manage your debt (which, most people can't, pinpointing why they are in debt to begin with), you shouldn't acquire more to add to the damage.

Case in point: the state of the U.S. economy, my own personal finances. I will probably be paying for this year for some time. Good thing I've got a back-up plan...

4c. Expect a bailout.

Sure, it'd be great if you got it, but you shouldn't be counting on it. That is a very bad habit to practice.

5. Pussyfoot around.

Don't be wishy-washy, don't waver. Take direction. Be affirmative, and confident in your decision-making. This can take a long learning process to achieve, but when you can stand behind your actions without any doubt, only then will people be able to take you seriously. And that's what you want, isn't it? When you're unsure about something, people are unsure about you.

6. Question a good thing when it happens to you.

If you're fortunate enough to befall a happy accident, go with it. Don't stop it from happening in the middle of it, and question the status of it. Chances are it won't happen again any time soon.

7. Fall behind current events.

You'll regret it. Especially if you want to have a say in what's going on, or if you want to be involved with/get ahead of the rest of the world.

Election? What election?

And lastly...DON'T

8. Under any circumstances, borrow your brother's 1991 Pontiac Bonneville, drive it across the country, to keep it in New York, hoping to use it before he turns 16, even if only for a few months. It will get towed (twice) and stolen. You will have to go through a monstrous debacle to get it back, and it will end up costing you more than the value of the car for the three months you have it (or one and a half months, as the case may be).

So there you have it. That is my year 2008, in a nutshell. I experienced a whole lot, and I learned at least twice as much. With any luck, it will help propel my year 2009 as one of my most productive years yet.

Hard Times Call for Funny T-Shirts

With the economy the way it is, people are really worried. People are going broke and losing work right and left. Everybody is cutting back on spending. People are traveling less. "It's going to be a very light Christmas this year," they are saying.

The economy is slumping, and the "official" word now is recession.

So now what? Everybody is bummed out. People are getting depressed, downtrodden, sad; they are getting their legs taken out from under them. It's not pretty.

But it's not the end of the world, either. There is a reason the Great Depression was named what it was. It was...depressing.

This time around, it's different. The solutions we have to create are a direct result of the problems we already knew about, but let get out of hand.

A great line from a great movie is, "...so we backtracked a tad, it's not gonna do us any good to sit here and whine about it!"

The world is not ending, and just because the economy is slowing down does not mean business is going to halt. In fact, if anybody is going to get this economy back up and running again and make a little money, it might as well be the people who can put a smile on your face. We need to brighten the mood a little bit. It's surprising how much that helps.

If the atmosphere remains as dreary as it is currently, we as a nation and a world are only going to spiral further into depression. Maybe the telling of a joke, a kind smile and a look into someone's eyes, or the small purchase of a new T-shirt can help spread the love around a little more and help people to appreciate what they still have.

The world's in a bad place right now, it's true. But it's nothing we have not faced before, and we can get through it, if we just keep our heads up.

What are you doing now?

When I went home for Thanksgiving, I was dreading getting that question over and over again. That's the one thing I dislike about seeing people I haven't seen in a while. They always want to know what you're up to. I suppose I should relish their interest into my activities, but lately I feel like I always give a disappointing answer to that question. And this time, the answer to the question is even more disappointing, because I don't have a tangible answer.

I guess I've gotten to that point in my life where I have to actually give a genuine answer, and that answer is something that should be carried out until its fulfillment. It has to be a satisfactory answer.

The answer to the question should no longer be the question itself. "What are you doing now?" What am I doing now?

I don't even know.

But it's strange that this sudden unplanned visit home occurred right at the point when I think I figured out the answer. I probably would still be disappointing for some, but for the first time in my life, I feel like I have direction. I feel like I have a purpose and I know where I'm going and I know what I have to do to get there.

I still can't answer the question the right way, though. For me to answer the question the correct way, those asking wouldn't even need to ask the question, because they would know already what I'm doing, or I would have something to show for what I'm doing.

I will probably always be unsatisfied by what I've done or what I've been doing, because I always feel like I have more to do. But I guess giving an update every once in a while is reasonable.

So, that's what I'm doing now.

Li'l Adults

I find myself sharing the sidewalk and various places of business or public interest with a number of small children. The difference between children in New York and children in other parts of the country, I find, is the rate of maturity. It may not be this way compared to every part of the country, but it seems that children in New York grow up at a faster rate than other children I have encountered.

Children in New York have to learn things more quickly; they have to be able to think on their feet more often than kids elsewhere. They have to be able to pick up on things like mass transit, navigating as complex a city as New York, complete with trains, traffic, and interlocking bodies of water.

Not only that, children in New York have to put up with all the people here, and that much interaction with others has got to accelerate their development.

New York children's advanced development is evident in their behavior exhibited in the street, their manners, their dress, their language.

In my neighborhood, children come running around corners, chasing after their friends, dropping derogatory terms here and racial slurs there. Just like grown-ups! They have discussions about scooters, they debate and analyze outcomes of footraces. They carry around little suitcases, and sometimes even wear shirts and ties, just like adults would.

And just like adults, some even work at the neighborhood grocery store.

Kids definitely grow up faster here.

The other day, I was in a store shopping for things that only legal adults can drink, when a child of elementary age approached me, and began soliciting me about whatever was on the pamphlet she was trying to hand me. I think it was some kind of youth ministry program.

At any rate, the young girl did not hesitate to get right up in my face, thrusting this pamphlet directly into my field of vision, and, I might add, blocking my view from anything else. When I proceeded to ask her about what it was she was offering me, she got very flustered with me, telling me I was wasting her time and that "either you're going to take one or not." That much was true. I did not take one. And she stalked off.

I refuse to believe, though, that I was wasting her time, when she so rudely interrupted my beer shopping to hand me an unrelated piece of paper.

Ah, kids these days, they grow up so fast. Even at such a young age, they are already fine, upstanding, inconsiderate New Yorkers.

On Animal Cruelty

Tonight I ventured into the very Jewish sector of my neighborhood to bear witness to a ritualistic sacrifice, which takes place annually not too far from my house. I did not know this before, but apparently it is tradition in the Hassidic faith to sacrifice a chicken on behalf of your family one or two nights prior to Yom Kippur, or the Day of Atonement.

The ceremony goes as such based on my gentile interpretation and a loose explanation from a fellow bystander: the patriarch of the family, or head of household, takes a live chicken, holds it high above the heads of his family members, and swirls it around a few times while chanting some prayers. He then swirls it around his own head. This swirling chicken motion is symbolic for collecting all the evil that once was contained in the noggins of this family. The chicken now holds all the evil thoughts this family once had, so it is passed to a special man who then cuts the chicken's throat and bleeds the chicken out until all the evil is gone. Where it goes after that, I have no idea.

Apparently, the chickens are donated to charity, which makes up for something, I guess. But it is a little unsettling to see this displayed out in the street. Oh did I mention this foo foo rah takes place out in the street, right out in public view? It does, which is how I was able to watch it. It is the one meeting place for all the Jewish families who partake in this tradition, so naturally, there are a lot of Jewish people around, and to fulfill everybody's need for live chickens is an entire semi-tractor trailer stacked to the brimmed with crates of live chickens.

As you can imagine, the smell was quite foul. From the fowl. Feathers everywhere, along with chicken poop, and a surprising number of eggshells. And children playing and laughing in the midst of all this.

The ceremony takes place at night, and I found out about it through a friend of mine, who happens to live very close by to where they commit this act of repentance. From what he described to me, I expected to see a great deal of carnage. When he first told me about it, he did use the words, "the blood runs in the street."

In the most recent occurrences of this ceremony, it has been much more contained. Police barricades were set up around the area containing live fowl, and the slaughtering was done in a tented area, far from view.

So, though I could not see much, I could tell what was going on.

Periodically, some gentlemen would emerge from the tent carrying big black garbage bags, which I can only guess contained dead chickens or similar. No matter how one covers it up, the fact that it was still going on right here in my neighborhood was enough to facilitate a little horror in my mind as I watched what went on.

I am aware that chickens are slaughtered everyday, considering the fact that I eat chicken a few times a week at least. But to have it right in your face like that was not only unsettling and unnerving, but cruel. I can see chickens being killed humanely for human consumption (even though that rarely happens), but for chickens to be killed in multitudes for a religious ceremony seems a bit excessive.

I don't condone cruelty to animals, and I try to avoid it. I definitely don't do enough to draw attention to the evils that come with mass production of food for the American landscape and economy, but I try to remain conscious of it whenever I bite into a hamburger or a chicken sandwich. I still need to eat, after all.

After I got home in dismay from what I had seen down the block, I turned on the light in my room only to see irony had reared its ugly head. In the top corner where my wall meets the ceiling was a spider, or what looked like a spider wrapped in some sort of cocoon-type thing. I came to the conclusion that it was probably a nest of spider eggs that had been sitting there for some time.

And everyone knows, the only thing worse than having a spider in your room is having 1000 spiders in your room. They all hatch at the same time!

So, what did I do after I had just harbored all this resentment for the Jewish ceremony and its violent way of cruelty to innocent creatures? I went up and I squashed the thing and threw it away. Then I went to bed.

Politics

To me politics is onomatopoeia for the corruption, greed, struggle, and nonsense that goes along with it. Nothing in my mind about politics is fair. The political system of America lost control of democracy long, long ago, and I do not believe any one person or party or entity could fix it or change it back.

The political issues America now faces have gotten way out of hand. And the opinions on either side of the political aisle are so far apart in some cases it is hard to believe they both come from citizens of the same country.

I don't believe any one side of any political argument could be right in its entirety, especially for the amount of people said argument, if turned into policy, it would affect. When it comes down to Democrat and Republican, each side is so incredibly dichotomic, it seems insignificant to even have an argument at all. We might as well just have two countries.

The Presidential race is a dog and pony show to me. It is as entertaining as a NASCAR race and basically serves the same premise. Just get a bunch of candidates with sponsors on their backs to run around in circles for a while, after a few spin-outs, pit stops, crashes, and fires, we'll eventually have a winner. It may not be pretty, and will probably not be the best candidate, but we'll have a winner.

Each side of the Presidential race is ridiculous. No one side is more correct or fair than the other. If we really believe in democracy in America, then why do we only have two candidates? People are only allowed to feel one of two ways in America? If you're not for us, you're against us? What kind of attitude is that? I thought this was America. I thought we were allowed to feel any way we wanted and be proud of it. It's no wonder so many people in America don't vote. People in America can get away without voting because in many ways, the political system can be eluded by the average citizen. And people who are into politics, i.e. people running for office or campaigning for someone who is, don't really care about the people who are indifferent to politics, because they can get away with running the show whether they care or not. It's not the apathy votes they want; it's the votes against their political party they want to change. If politicians cared about trying to get voters interested in politics, maybe we would have a stronger, fairer political system, but they don't want that. They like the system the way it is...as long as they have the power.

In an ideal world, political candidates---all of them---should be model citizens. It should be impossibly difficult and competitive to become a candidate. Ideally, everybody should want to do it, because it would be an honorable thing to do. It would be dictated by good sportsmanship, good conduct, and impeccable service to one's community. Being a political candidate should be a job defined by radiance, good will, and good faith. Candidates, ideally, should be crawling over each other to be chosen by the American people. All too often the politics game is played by backstabbing, cheating, bending rules, and skirting around things sneakily. It is dealt in money and power, not kindness and charity. The race for President is decided by who campaigns the best, raises the most money, and slashes the opposing candidate to the smallest bits, rather than by who deserves it the most, who has earned it, and who has the strength and leadership to succeed, once in position.

A great many people find it disturbing that one of the two candidates for President may be a charismatic and eloquent speaker, more so than the other. It may be reasonable to find a political figure of such oratorical skills under such scrutiny from the American populace, considering we've pledged our allegiance for the past eight years to a buffoon who has trouble putting more than three words together to form a complete sentence (as long as those words don't include "Texas Rangers baseball").

Being able to speak in public, it seems, has become something of an evil to some people. I refute this confounded argument by reminding the reader that part of the President's job is to address not only the American people, but foreign political leaders as well. It shouldn't even be part of the argument, because ideally both or all candidates should have public speaking under his or her belt, as well as the appropriate amount of intelligence needed to accompany the opening of one's mouth on behalf of an entire nation. Without making any definitive choices between 2008 Presidential candidate A and 2008 Presidential candidate B, it might serve us Americans well to have somebody in office who can speak to foreign administrators and/or reporters without being made fun of, or at the very least, without drooling down the front of themselves in process.

For other people interested in the Presidential race, there are those who claim that military service is a natural prerequisite for entering office. While this is a valid argument based on the leadership skills, valor, and mental toughness associated with military service and very much needed for the job of President, this argument should not be as hyped-up as it has been made to be, especially when only one of the candidates has military experience. One of the great things about this country is one's ability to choose whether to go into the Army, or whether to NOT go into the Army. It's a choice, just like fries or onion rings.

And lest we forget, a President's record of combat will probably not be called into play that often. The President does in fact address the nation from a podium, and not from a hunting blind. Sometimes the President presides from the Oval Office, which, last time I checked was not a bunker or military outpost, but rather mostly a desk and some chairs and maybe an American flag or two.

Does the President get a laptop? I imagine he or she would, considering the size of that desk. The President must get a laptop. It's 2008, and after all, George Bush has been doing nothing but playing online poker for the past two or three years. The White House probably has the best free wi-fi of anywhere in the country!

But I digress...

For those pondering the Presidential election and think for one second that the color of a person's skin or the gender of a person holds any weight at all in that person's ability to represent one's country deserves to have their vote taken away, and be sent to the corner, to sit on their hands, face the wall, and think about what they've done. That being said, there are generally only four corners to a room, and I'm not sure we have enough wall space for all of them.

If we put them all too close together, they might start to think it's a party, which it's not, it's supposed to be a punishment. They are supposed to be learning a lesson. And they're not allowed to be brought snacks by their friends, either. They are just to sit there quietly in the corner, and think.

And to all those people out there who keep elevating the Vice Presidential platform to pop star/supermarket tabloid cover person status: stop. The Vice Presidential position has been and never will be the same as the Presidential position. That's why there's that word "vice" in front of it. If they were the same position, they would have the same name.

On November 4, those Americans who are of legal age and who have registered ahead of time will have the unique privilege of casting a vote for President of the United States, as well as votes for probably a lot of other positions that you haven't even thought of. And while your vote may or may not "matter" depending on where you live, who you vote for, and who everyone else around you votes for, it will still be more fun, more important, and more patriotic than voting on American Idol. Not only that, but it will make you feel good and satisfied, whereas voting for "Idol," as American as it may be, will only make you feel empty and used.

The voting booth presents a number of choices, and when I get in there, I can either vote door #1, door #2, or Mystery Box. The great thing about this country is, you don't ever have to tell anybody who you voted for, and it's a good thing, too, because while we'd all like to think we made some very intelligent and informed choices in our lives, we also know that Mystery Box has some pretty sweet prizes.

Even though I think the political system is tragically flawed, I will still try to do the best thing and make my opinion noted. While none of us are going to change the world with our single votes, it doesn't hurt to try and do something positive with what you've got. As of now, all I've got is one vote. So I'm going to put it to use.

An Honest Living

In the wake of the recent financial crisis that has hit Wall Street, it brings to mind some things that a lot of people probably don't think about too often.

Wall Street, a collective entity of all the world's stock brokers, investment bankers, insurance firms, and hedge fund operations, more or less controls the world's market.  This is the financial sector.  It is a collective of financial gurus, accountants, and speculators, who know the economy backwards and forwards.  They make money hand over fist.  They make deals within deals.  And as paradoxical as it sounds, they buy and sell money.

They wear suits, get up at the crack of dawn, and drink like fish every night.  They throw around words like "portfolio," "stocks," "investments," "buyout," "bear market," "bull market," and other terms that the rest of us have no understanding of.

They are not normal human beings.  They are inhuman robots of computing numbers and making sales.  They make more money than any of us would ever dream, and, while doing so, administer the global economy.

An article in the New York Times just the other day brought to my attention the vast salary of the CEO of Lehman Brothers, the investment firm that went under at the beginning of this week, earned the equivalent of $17,000 an hour during his tenure.  Taking over the position some time ago, about fifteen years, he drove the company to ultimate bankruptcy, putting hundreds of people out of jobs, and continues to collect income from it.

The rest of these financial heads are not much different.  They make hordes of money, more that the gross national product of some small countries, and have nothing to show for it except the amount of greed they possess.

It's disgusting to say the least.

And it brings up, at least to me, the integrity of not only our economy, having been dictated by Wall Street---which, by the way, is not even located entirely on Wall Street any more, as it has become an abstract place in time spread out across Manhattan and the rest of the world (but that's neither here nor there)---it also brings up the integrity of how each person, no matter what their line of work, makes a living.

There are a lot of scams out there.  A lot.  Some legal.  Some are illegal.  Some scams are untraceable, and some are subsidized by the government.  Some would say that it is up to the consumer to be aware of the laws and boundaries by which people can operate and try to take your money.  But the average person cares too much about other things to worry about how they might be being cheated in the financial sector.

Most everybody finds ways to make money.  Making money is a certain, undeniable goal of a great many people.  Money gives people the power to change their lives.  Money changes people.  It affects how they act.  Money talks, as they say.  It creates problems, causes war, and opens doors unavailable before.  

There is a slight difference between a lot of money and a little money.  The difference is quantity.  The amount of money a person has is in large part a way to measure that person.

But there is also a difference between honest money and dishonest money.  And how a person makes his or her money, whether it is a lot or a little, is also a way to measure that person.

Earning money honestly is slightly more respectable than earning it dishonestly.  Making honest money is difficult to do well and be financially successful, which is why you see so many people making it dishonestly.  It is possibly to make money honestly, though.

When you exchange needed goods and services for equitable amounts of money, you have earned money the right way---honestly.

In the quest for riches, some people forget that others don't actually need what they are trying to sell them.  And those people end up getting scammed.  The people who sold it look at these victims of fraud as "suckers" and don't feel an ounce of remorse for what they'd done or respect for the people they'd done it to.  If they had any respect for these people and weren't looking out only for themselves, they wouldn't have thought to do what they did in the first place.

Honesty is powerful.  It is raw and it is not ignorable.

Similarly, comedy is raw, powerful, and tangible.  It is honest, most of the time.  And while at times, comedy may not be in the same interest or in tune with the beliefs of all those bearing witness to it, somewhere, somebody is laughing.  What makes comedy worthwhile and what really makes it truly honest is that it produces an honest reaction.

No feeling in the world truly equates to the feeling of raw, unsolicited laughter.  It is an honest, gut reaction to a stimulus.  Laughter is difficult to feign, and it is hard to feel cheated when laughing.

In my opinion, comedy is honesty.  And while most comedians don't make a lot of money, it is, at the very least, and honest living.  It is respectable.  It is needed.  If done right and if supported by many, comedy can be very profitable.

Comedians, unlike stock brokers, make their money honestly.  They work hard day in and day out to cheer people up, to crack jokes, to make themselves heard, and to be productive while under pressure to be funny.  Comedians have to put themselves through torture, misery, and embarrassment to get ahead.  They have to sacrifice bits of themselves.  

But when the day is done, they've earned their keep honestly.

When you make your money dishonestly, and then lose it all because of your dishonest practices, not many people feel sorry for you.

Honest people, on the other hand, are not to be contended with.  Honest people find each other and band together.

Someday, the scoundrels and crooks of the world will be turned out.  It may not be the day of the crash, or the day after, but someday, they will have to make an honest living in order to survive the real world; honest, raw, and true.

Eventually, it will be discovered, that the best policy really is honesty.

I Will Tell You Stories...

This is a very entertaining story, in my opinion, and it could only happen to me, probably...

Every year, my neighborhood of Crown Heights in Brooklyn celebrates its West Indian heritage by throwing the West Indian Carnival celebration on Labor Day weekend in September.  The celebration is in observance of the annual tradition of Carnival, a widely popular and common holiday that is celebrated all over the world.  In America, it is known as Mardi Gras and is well-known in its association with the city of New Orleans, and its great population in derivation from the West Indies and Africa.

Traditionally, the celebration takes place in the springtime, immediately preceding the Catholic season of Lent.  Since Lent is typically a season of repentance, Carnival is generally a time for one to get all their vices out one last time, which is exemplified in a big party, with...lots of vices.

Why Carnival is celebrated on the opposite end of the calendar in Crown Heights, I am not aware of, but it is a very large celebration, including a parade, one of the largest in New York, and typically draws around one million spectators.  The parade route runs along Eastern Parkway, the main thoroughfare closest to my house, along which I walk everyday to get to the Subway, and also run along because it is lined with trees and has a wide pedestrian mall on either side of the street.

The night before the parade I went for a jog along Eastern Parkway, where I bore witness to police setting up barricades and vendors setting up stands from which to purvey food and beverages, as well as nationalistic emblems via T-shirts, flags, and other paraphernalia.  The great nation-states of the Caribbean are all represented here:  Barbados, Trinidad, Jamaica, St. Martin, Haiti, the Dominican Republic, etc.  There are too many to name.  Each one is represented by multitudes of the neighborhood population and by parade float.

The event is very well-attended, and as a resident of the neighborhood, I felt obligated to take part.  My roommate, Anthony, and I planned to make a day of it.  We walked along the parade route, picking out various sundries and foodstuffs to munch on, and periodically returned home to drink some beer.  We admired the costumes, the music, and even at one point jumped in the crowd to march along the parade route.  We took up rank behind a very loud and celebratory float, which coincidentally was hosting Wyclef Jean as emcee.  Though we never saw him, we could hear him cheering the crowd on over the public address system.

Not long after we marched in the parade, we were making our way towards the direction of home, trying to observe more of the celebration when the Jamaican float went past.  As that happened, the crowd got very boisterous and unruly.  Already bunched together, it became apparent that there was no room to pass through until the float passed us by, so Anthony and I stood still, separated by a few people.

Up ahead, some people began causing a commotion and I could see people ahead of me being forced backwards very rapidly, as if being pushed from the front.  The pushes became more frequent, and though I could not tell who the culprit was, rumor was circulating that a fight or some kind of violence was breaking out ahead of us.  I saw Anthony duck out in front of me, and as I made my way out of the crowd, I became a victim of the preexisting momentum.  People were pushing, causing some kind of ruckus; the vendors behind us were pleading with us to stop pushing, in hopes they would not lose their precious vendibles, but their fate was inevitable at this point.  I turned to face the crowd and as I did that, a violent surge pushed me back.  I braced myself, trying to maintain my upright standing position by holding onto the people around me.  I had practice at this action previously in all my recent experience being in the middle of crowds of people at music festivals and in crowds of people in New York.

I nearly fell over this time.  I was disoriented, and when I returned to equilibrium, it became quickly apparent that my wallet had been lifted from my back pocket.  

I immediately realized it was gone, having been checking on it frequently throughout the day.  Also, I was aware that because of the color of my skin (I was about one of two white people in the immediate area, my roommate being the other), I would be considered an easy target for thieves.  

Reaching into my back pocket and feeling emptiness, my heart rate instinctively started to race.  I began sweating profusely.  Panic quickly set in, and I frantically began to search the nearby area.

My financial information flashed before my eyes (mostly zeroes and negative numbers), and I quickly began dreading what would soon be my immediate future of calling up banks, canceling credit cards, and the hassle of trying to get another state-issued ID without the benefit of having my current existing one.

As I wrapped my head around what I was about to face, I was still trying to escape from this parade with my life, so I eagerly made my way out of the crowd.  

Taking a few hindered steps across the sidewalk towards the outside of this mess of people, I spotted my wallet sticking up out of a young man's front right hip pocket.  This young man was quite a bit taller than me, docked in urban garb, including a baseball cap and an open hooded sweatshirt and blue jeans.  He most definitely fit the urban Brooklyn teen-age profile, yet he did not know what he was up against.

Seeing my wallet, I instinctively reached for it and grabbed it out of his pocket, reclaiming what was rightfully mine.

I addressed and confronted him, saying, "You stole my wallet!"

To which he replied, "Nah, I didn't do that.  It wasn't me!"

In disbelief, I turned and scrambled to get out of this crowd.  I was less than half a block from the street on which I lived, but my heart was pounding uncontrollably, and nerves were shaken immensely.  It was, at the least, a little scary.  

I made my way to the corner and turned left, trying to collect in my mind what had just happened.  Looking through my wallet, I found that everything I had previously was still there and accounted for (when you don't have any cash, it's pretty easy to keep track of it).

A couple blocks later, when I felt at a safe distance from the crowd and its associated turmoil, I called my roommate to see where he had gone to.  He was safe, and a few minutes later, he met up with me and we made our way home.

I told him the story of what had happened to me, and found myself having difficulty believing it even as I told it.

It is a pretty remarkable story, even from my perspective, and I am lucky that I am able to tell it.

Whatever caused the scuffle at the parade was not consequential enough to be put in the news, so I never found out happened or who caused the mischief.  All I knew about was what happened to me.

I felt sheer panic and fear for about twenty seconds before I figured out how to corrected what had happened to me.  I was lucky to come away unscathed.  And even though I was briefly a victim of a crime, I used my inner crook to do justice and right the wrong behavior of another.

So that's the story of how my wallet was pick-pocketed and how I pick-pocketed it back.