These Meth Users are Spoiling it for the Rest of Us

I bought Sudafed today at the drug store.

I had to give them my address, telephone number, show proof of ID, and sign for it.

It's a good thing I gave them my driver's license and not my Meth Lab Club Card.

I wonder what I am paying dues for if I don't even get a discount on Sudafed. I'll have to look into it.

Hold On to Your Yarmulke!

This story is in no way intended to offend Jewish people, however, I thought the situation too comical not to bring to attention in a public forum.

I'm sure this happens in some situations all the time, but it so happened that I was able to witness such a thing first hand some time ago in New York, while riding in a car.
As you may already know, it is traditional for Jewish men to wear Yarmulkes atop their heads to serve as a constant reminder for their devotion to their faith. If you've never seen this, a Yarmulke is a small round hat which is placed towards the back half of your head. What is important to know in this situation, is it doesn't fit around the head the way a baseball cap or a cowboy hat would, it more or less just sits there, carefully balanced as securely as possible. I've seen some men use hair clips to keep it more firmly from moving around on their head.

In this case, though, the man in question did not have any such clips in place, and his Yarmulke was free to move around if the wind chose to do so.

I was in a car stopped at a red light. As in most cases in New York, the people crossing the crosswalk were all casually walking across towards their destinations. Also as in most cases in New York, the people doing so tend to take advantage of the green light as long as possible, so as not to have to stand and wait for the next light.

As it happens, a Jewish man wearing a Yarmulke was starting to walk across when the light changed. The traffic in which I was included was about to get moving and so the people crossing the street needed to pick up the pace if they weren't going to get hit by cars, which we surely would have done had they not gotten out of the way.

The Jewish man obviously was aware that he had to get moving, and as he jumped to his feet and picked up his stride, he was also aware that he was going to leave his Yarmulke behind if he had not reached up and held on to it. The look on his face was priceless.

I just thought it was funny.

Internal Monologue Upon an Encounter With a Pretty Girl

Every once in a while, I'll have a moment when I have a chance encounter with a girl I don't know, a stranger who I come across completely randomly and unsolicited, who I happen to find attractive. It would be a situation where the two of us would be placed at a certain venue for a certain period of time simultaneously, as if by fate. Typical examples of this would be sharing an elevator, sitting across or even next to one another on the subway, or one in front of the other in line at Starbucks.

While I might be attracted to this girl, there is nothing for sure saying that this girl is attracted to me. Though I have been told by a few people that I am not a bad-looking fellow myself, I don't have high hopes. I like to think it is possible, though, that this girl might find me attractive in return. Besides, I think in general I have the kind of look about me that lets people know that I'm kind of always searching.

So I'm in this situation where I'm one-on-one with a girl who I might care to get to know a little further. A man with more finesse than I would gladly use this opportunity to lay down whatever his best line would be to get this girl to talk to him, while I tend to be more shy and reserved, and instead of thinking of something to say to this girl in our current situation that might catch her favor, I tend to just have a debate with myself in my mind.

I'm not an expert in picking up women, I do not claim to be, I never have. In fact, I can't really think of a time when I've done it successfully. I know that there are codes of conduct people use and there are certain signals women use to clue a guy in to invite him to talk to her. I have no idea what those are, and honestly I don't understand why it is the social standard for men to make the first move anyway. Evolutionarily speaking, women hold all the deciding factors on who gets to procreate the human race anyway, so why should I be forced to say something? I'm not going to waste my time if it's not going to work.

Something like that would be an excerpt of what I'm thinking as we quietly and separately ride along in the elevator or in the subway car or wait in line for our drinks. The rest would go something like this:
I wonder if she's thinking about me.
I wonder if she's thinking about my thinking about her. Do you think she knows that I'm thinking about her? Do you think she can sense it?

There is definitely some kind of awkwardness between us. I don't know if it is sexual tension or if it is just my own general awkwardness that is now being levitated between the two of us.

Does she find me attractive? Does she know that I find her attractive, and if so, how?

She keeps touching her hair. Does that mean something? She keeps looking out of the corner of her eye. Is she looking at me? Or is that just what I want to think that she's doing?

Does she realize that I'm staring at her? Oh! She's looking this way!
Quick!
Look somewhere else! Look up at that picture!

Oh, yes, that is an interesting picture. Sure, that's what I was thinking.

Well, my cover is surely blown, now. She can figure out what I think of her, so now I'm no different than any other pig of a man in this city.

I have always had the understanding that people don't want to be bothered, especially beautiful women. They already get the kind of attention they are sick of from all the guys who aren't afraid to say something. Probably all those guys from grade school and high school who just yelled out in the middle of class, those kinds of guys who were never afraid to just speak up, while I always raised my hand and waited to be called on. And it took me forever and a day to finally get a girlfriend. So, instead of saying something, I just continue to think:

I like her _____ (blank object: hair, hat, shoes, jacket, backpack. This is generally the case as there was something that drew my attention to her in the first place).
I wonder if I should tell her. If I did, would it do any good? Would it sound genuine? Or would it just sound like I'm trying to pick her up? Isn't that what I'm trying to do anyway?

I don't know. Don't ask me. I just came along for the ride.

Should I say something? This isn't going to last much longer. I've only got one shot at this realistically.

What if she does think of me highly and I don't say something to her? How will I ever know?
What if this whole time she's been waiting for me to say something to her? Maybe she's been teetering on the brink of a giggle just waiting for me to say something charming and sweep her off her feet.

Yeah, right!

But if she does think of me highly and I don't say something, is that going to hurt her feelings?
Is she going to walk away thinking she's not pretty?

She is pretty.

So now I'm responsible for this girl's self-esteem? How is that fair?!

Yeah, that's right, bitch! Take your coffee and walk away. I'm not saying nothing. I'm not gonna fight your battles for you.

See ya!

There she goes, the love of my life, right out the door. And now I'll never know.

Come back!

The worst is trying to accommodate this kind of situation at a bar, especially a loud one. I can be charming and flirt with the best of them, but I will never be any good at giving a line to a girl and having her instantly fall in love with me. I am hopeless that way. I need a third party to introduce us or to bring us together through some situation or some kind of common environment or common goal to use as a springboard. I can't just paint on a blank canvas. I need some kind of backdrop to work from.

I had a situation at a bar recently where I was talking to a girl who I wasn't the slightest bit attracted to, but it was apparent that she was into me. Our connection was music and so we got to talking about music-related things for a while. But it was very uncomfortable and awkward. We had to go back and forth yelling at each other, and I could only hear her half the time. The other half of the time I didn't know what she was talking about. She was way more into music than I am. And the fact that I wasn't interested in her wasn't helping at all.

HER: Do you want a drink?

ME: (Now that's what I'm talking about! This never happens!) Sure.

I even got an expensive one. Within reason.

HER: I'd really love to be a Broadway actress, but I know I don't have the body of a Broadway actress. I'm honest with myself.

ME: (It's true. She doesn't. It's nice that she can be honest with herself. But does this now obligate me to say something to the contrary so she doesn't go home and slit her wrists because she's not pretty ? Chivalry be damned!)...Well...I...wouldn't say you are unattractive. (Damnit! That is so vague and it sounds terrible! This isn't Austin Powers, Leland! You can't just say something with inflection and expect it to come out right!) ...What I mean to say is that I think you're very pretty. (That is such a lie! I am ashamed of myself. I am choking on my own guilt!)

HER (all smiles): Oh! Thank you!

ME: (I hope you're happy! I coughed up some very good beer!)

I've come to realize that some women are labeled unattainable by men because they are so stunningly gorgeous they know they could have any man, and therefore do not take any man, but instead go around teasing men and playing mind games to gain power and control in relationships.
Along the same lines, I think that I am unattainable, but not for any of these kinds of reasons, but in the fact that I'm so confused as to what's going on that I'll never get the chance to express myself correctly. Even if I did get the opportunity, my neurotic mentalities would probably get in the way of my success, as exhibited in the preceding statements. What woman could possibly want me, especially after everything I just admitted to?

Story Tellers vs. Story Dwellers

I have come to realize in this life that there really are only two types of people in this world. Of course, there is going to be a difference of opinion in any kind of generalization like this, but if I may elucidate, I will go on to describe exactly what I mean.
It is possible, I feel, to categorize individuals into one of two areas: story tellers and story dwellers. The first group, story tellers, live their lives to tell stories. Sure, every person has his or her own life to live, but these people spend a great deal of their time reminiscing about others, relating oral history of past events or people. These people would be the historians, the newscasters, the journalists of the world. These people are the authors, filmmakers, actors, musicians (in a sense) who are put on this earth to tell stories other than their own. They act out stories or they put them on a screen for people to watch or write it down in poetry and sing it or publish it.
Story tellers find their true calling in relaying the history and ideas of others, and while in some sense it might be their own, they don't do it for themselves, they tell the story for others to hear.

The other types of people are story dwellers. These people live in the story. They are the story. People who go through life without much sense of cause or purpose and wind up being a major story in the news, maybe by winning the lottery or climbing to the roof of a building with a sniper rifle or driving mistakenly onto a bridge that is about to collapse. These are the celebrities who litter the tabloids with their escapades, the no-names who get their name in the paper for killing somebody or rescuing a cat from a tree. These are all the people who died unnecessarily, while others survived to tell the story: the victims of the Holocaust and World War II, September 11, Darfur, even Jesus Christ. These people, for some reason or another, for better or worse, cannot resist the spotlight. It might not be by their own choice, but they do not spend their thoughts and time telling the stories of others, but instead become the story themselves, enraptured in whatever activity that would make them subject of a story for someone else to tell.

It happens on all scales, great and small, from the most prominent world-changing event to the promiscuous girl in high school, who's behavior is the talk of a group of boys in the hallway. Her story is told by others, perhaps unfairly, perhaps even unknowingly to her.

The stories are there, and someone is going to tell them if you don't. If you realize that you aren't the one telling the story, then you might very well be the story.

This may be a bold statement to make, saying that every person fits into one of these two categories. Of course, there are going to be exceptions. This is life. However, in my experiences, I've come to this conclusion, and I think it is fitting in all areas of life. It may not be a thing of choice, a particular path a person chooses to go down. Maybe it is just the nature of things. Life creates natural situations where some people will go on to become a great story, and the rest stay behind to tell the tale.

Year One Statistics

It has officially been one year since Adam and I kicked the dust of Quincy off our shoes and moved to the Big Apple.
Adam has a great tally of the things he's done since moving to New York. Visit his tally at
http://www.adambozarth.com/?p=22

How do you measure a year? 525,600 minutes? 4 seasons of love? 1 season of Grey's Anatomy?
I thought Adam's idea was pretty great, so I decided I would make the same kind of list with my own experiences. Here we go:

Number of months living in a nun's apartment: 1

Number of months living in a two-bedroom apartment in New Jersey: 9

Number of months living in a three-bedroom condo in Brooklyn that we are somehow renting: 2 and counting

Number of roommates I've had to live with: 2

Number of people who I've personally hosted who have crashed on my couch/floor/bed (separate occasions included): 19

Person with the most amount of stays: My sister Marissa with 3

Leland to Adam job ratio: 4:1

Number of movies rented and watched via Netflix: 59

Number of job interviews: 21

Number of scams avoided: 1 (modeling agency)

Number of scams tricked into: 1 (guy with tree)

Number of times written up by the New York City Police Department for not following the rules of the Subway: 2

Number of visits to Boston: 2
Visits to Philadelphia: 1
Visits to Washington, D.C.: 0
Visits to Chicago: 9
Visits home: 4
Visits to New Jersey after moving to Brooklyn: 1
Visits to White Castle: 6

Number of rooftop parties attended: 3 (2 of my own)

Number of Broadway musicals attended: 1 (The Lion King)

Number of Spanish rap battles attended: 1

Number of Major League Baseball games attended: 3 (1 Yankees, 1 Mets, 1 Chicago White Sox)

Number of Hot Dog-Eating Contests attended: 1 (the big one)

Number of people I've seen walking around New York with soiled pants: 2

Total amount of money paid cumulative over the last year including both New York roommates for rent and deposits: $21,600

Number of celebrity sightings: 1 (Common, rapper)

Number of blog entries published (including this one): 38

Percentage of satisfaction: 100%

Thanks to everyone who has made my life possible for the past year. Thank you for reading what I have to say, and thank you for your love and support.

Build a Better You...Today!

An aunt of mine said something to me a while ago that struck me as an unequaled nugget of wisdom. It was in the midst of her travels to Quincy from her home on the east coast. She was having quite a bit of difficulty getting everything to work out as planned. There were complications with the airlines on which she and her daughter were traveling. Then there were complications with the car rental agency through which she was trying to rent a car. I don't quite remember the details, but suffice it to say, things were not going as planned. I was notified by phone about the problems that were going on, because as it happened, I was in the area, and I might have been able to help out. It turned out that I wasn't able to help out, but a particular thing my aunt said to me on the phone in the process of getting things sorted out stuck with me all this time, and I have recalled it in my mind often. So, now I wish to share it with all of whoever is reading this.

She told me after all this frustration, though not in an angry or frustrated tone of voice, "It is a character-building day."

I have had quite a number of those types of days myself, so my aunt's comment really hit home with me. I've had those types of days, similarly to most people, when I've been stranded by airlines, stranded by bus companies, when I've been at the mercy of someone else who is not conveniently thinking of my plans or schedule. I've had the days when every little thing makes you more and more frustrated and angry than the thing that frustrated you twenty minutes ago. The types of days that when people ask you about them, you just want to strangle them or worse or maybe just give them a speechless angry glare.

Those types of days are the type that seem to start off all wrong. If you went back and looked at it, you could pinpoint the moment when things took a turn for the worse, and continued in succession until you ended up all alone, miles away from where you were supposed to be by now, hours or days behind schedule, with none of your possessions, and with sweat stains caked under your arms and your hair not at all the way you would like it to look.

I've had those types of days that it seems like the whole world planned an attack on your life that day. Nothing is convenient. You come up with an idea to compensate for the initial plan not working out, and then that idea is blocked by some other party. The kind of day that you curse everyone under your breath, even though, on any other day, you would be more than nice to these people. The kind of day where you impulsively consider taking up smoking, because the people who are outside smoking cigarettes, even though you know in your mind they have made extremely poor health decisions, seem to have life all figured out at this moment, and they have enough time and life on their hands to smoke a cigarette.

We have all had those kinds of days. It is what unites us in this society at times. It is also what divides us at other times. It's what we do with that frustration and anger that counts.

What my aunt said to me really holds true in my mind. If you think of those kinds of days as "character-building" days, it puts a much more positive spin on the situation. And truthfully, no matter what consequences you face as a result of your mind-boggingly frustrating day, your personal experience, your character, is going to develop, even if you're not fully aware of it. I could definitely say that with every day I've had like that, I've learned something.
You may not be able to use everything you learn on those days, but chances are, you'll have a lot more perspective to look from than you did before.

If this is true, then over the course of the last year when I moved away from home, I have done nothing but build character. Nothing has been as frustrating in my life than trying to live the life I wanted to live in New York from New Jersey. I had nine months of solid character development. As much as I despised it, I can most definitely say I came away from it with so much personal growth, I could not replace those nine months of my life with any other.

I have been here for one year now. This weekend marks the one-year anniversary of when I departed my cozy home life in Quincy to take on the Big Apple. As I enter into my second year, I can fully attest that I have learned a great deal in the past year. I have developed more life experience than I ever thought, and I have come away with a self-satisfaction that was previously unmatched.

I finally feel like I'm in a place where I can accomplish what I came to do. I feel loved by family and friends. I have a job that I can tolerate and could possibly be content with for the time being.
It's still going to be a challenge. Success is not easy to attain no matter where you are. But I can chalk up a lot of character building to all my experiences in my past. I'm sure if you look back in your own life, you can also find times when you had to build a lot of character, and you can probably use that experience to make your future and your present a little better.

Bad Dream

I had a dream the other night, a nightmare, actually, because if it were to actually happen, it would be pretty catastrophic, in my book.

In my dream, famed restaurant chain McDonald's was bought out by a smaller, less significant fast-food chain. It might have been Hardee's or Chik-Fil-A that bought McDonald's, but it really doesn't matter. The point of the dream when I woke up, in a cold sweat, was when I realized that as a result of this major corporation buy-out, there would be no more McDonald's.

Can you imagine such a thing? A world without McDonald's?!

I can barely wrap my brain around it to fathom the possibility of a world as we know it without McDonald's. It is a staple of American culture, the first choice in fast-food, and one of the biggest and most recognizable companies in the world.

I first fell in love with McDonald's as a child, as did many an American child. I distinctly remember stopping at McDonald's during my family's frequent road trips across the country. I was a big fan of Chicken McNuggets and sweet and sour sauce. It took me a while to grow into enjoying the hamburgers and French fries, but I eventually did; how could I not?

For a spell in my young adulthood/adolescence, I remember a time when I strategically boycotted McDonald's, consistently thinking about how unhealthy it was for me and the rest of the country. I don't think that boycott lasted very long. While you cannot argue that it is unhealthy, the taste is what keeps calling me back.

I'm very happy that my dream was only a dream. After I cried a little, I realized that McDonald's was still here and probably not going away too soon. I went back to sleep, but then I was hungry for a Big Mac.