I headed to my beloved 15 minute break at work. (If you work a six hour shift you get a 15, if you work an eight hour shift you get a 15 AND a 30!!) As I arrive in the break room, which has an overwhelming stench of dying orchids, because for some reason they decided to dump all the extras in the break room as an incentive for employees to buy them. It was a terrible incentive in that my only urge to buy them came from the strong desire to remove them from the room so I could enjoy my coconut choc-chip cliff bar without a massive headache. No such luck.
However I did manage to tack myself on to the end of a conversation between a woman on the phone and her friend. I'll briefly add that if you don't want people doing this with their phone conversations, take it outside or perhaps even use your inside voice. This lady was being rather loud, not that it bothered me because it didn't, but the conversation needed a reality check. One that I was all too happy to provide. It went something like this:
The lady is talking on the phone to her friend, as I have stated, she is talking about the recent bill pushed through congress about detaining Americans indefinitely without trial. Something I happen to be a bit scared of myself, I suppose reading up on it would be a wise choice, but I digress. She then proceeds to tell her friend that this was what she was reading about in her Bible, but surprisingly was reluctant to give a more precise reference. She then told her friend that it is the end times and that Obama is to blame. She told her friend to "look it up", and that it would be listed under "Marshall's Law." I'm pretty sure she meant Martial Law, but who am I to judge? She then said that "Marshall's Law" was just a way for white people to kill black people and get away with it. (She is black. I am not) I'll copy and paste that again for the sake of blatant redundancy.
She then said that [the new congress bill] was just a way for white people to kill black people and get away with it.
This was the exact moment that I made myself a part of the conversation. You may think that it's none of my business and that I should stay out of such trivial affairs. And you would be correct, I should have. But I couldn't. I draw the line at people talking obnoxiously loud that white people only want to kill black people and will use any means necessary to do so. I was baffled. Here I am, a white guy, and I didn't want to kill anyone, much less the person sitting in front me spitting out anti-white malarkey.
She then justified this accusation by stating that it "makes sense" because the world population is out of control at "something like 70-80 billion people." She said the world population was "70-80 billion." Her margin of error was OVER THE AMOUNT OF PEOPLE THERE ACTUALLY ARE. And I really hate using caps lock.. or holding down Shift, whatever.
Not wanting to start an argument over such a horrid mistake, I told her that I was not sure about that. I politely suggested she google that when she got home, for the love of God, please google "world population" when you get home. I said I was pretty certain the world was around 6.5 billion at then end of 2010. She insisted I was wrong. I said "maybe I am, but you should definitely google it."
I have so little words at this point. I really can't believe a person will suggest to their friend to look something up online to further understand a topic you might not know so much about; and in the same minute insisting she is right on a well-known fact, and when I suggest she do the same, (google it!) she just wants to argue and makes it clear she already knows. Why...what.. who are you? Why are you doing this? I understand that the latest bit of political jargon you heard about on CNN is rather reminiscent of 1984. But, damn. Seriously?
Flip this entire scenario around. Put me in that room talking loudly to one of my white friends and put an unsuspecting black person in the room. Then make the words "black people only want to kill white people," come out of my mouth. Which would be very hard considering I try my utmost not to let generalized, borderline-racist garbage like that escape my lips, but for the sake of this hypothetical, let's assume I do say that. The aftermath of this event would be ridiculous. I would get my ass beaten and if that person goes to management, I would be fired. Immediately. I have no desire for this person to be fired, so don't misunderstand me. We are very friendly with one another and after our chat, we were saying "goodbye" and "have a nice day" and all that. It isn't my place to bring my personal feelings into where I work. That is why I only politely suggested she check her facts and not yell in her face, "You are seriously effed up in your head. You really are racist against white people if you honestly believe that. And your shot-in-the-dark on the world population was the worst guess I have ever witnessed. If that guess was on The Price is Right, it would have given Bob Barker a heart attack on the spot."
But I didn't say that. I just smiled and thought "this is so going on my blog later."
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Saturday, December 31, 2011
The German
Well. My Christmas turned out to be pretty fantastic after all. I tried a few websites and craigslist to see if there were any real volunteer opportunities but, alas, nothing came of it. Instead I was invited to Stef's place in Yonkers to spend Christmas with her very Italian family. It was pretty incredible. I rolled two trays of meats and cheese (I didn't roll the cheese..) for the antipasti. Plus a few other trays of all kinds of appetizers. Then everyone got full and we waited a few hours before eating dinner. Seventeen people sitting around a table, most of which being family, is a great thing. There was another Christmas loner there, Eric from Germany, who I enjoyed meeting. Both of us were drawn into some serious conversations about fishing. Then we had a another regrouping before dessert. I know I am breezing by these meals but I just wanted to underline that this was the most food I've seen at a private residence. Ever. I'm only half Italian, so I really was not prepared to comprehend how incredible such an occasion can be for the food-inclined.
I want to move on to my train ride back with Eric from Germany. Him and I sparked a discussion about alcohol consumption in American and German cultures. To start with a contrast, in Germany, it is apparently not uncommon to have a drink with adults present when you are around 15 years of age. Which is something I have mixed feelings about. In the United States, those of you reading this from Russia, you have to be 21 in order to buy/publicly consume alcohol. Which happens to be another law I have mixed feelings about. For one, drinking at a young age can be a dangerous thing. However being exposed to alcohol, in an environment that is not shaming you or forbidding such an act, may in fact lighten the mood. This, in general, will diminish something I will refer to as "getting krunk." The pressure of drinking, possibly for the first time, simply doesn't exist. It's a beer. Enjoy it.
However in America, a 15 year old having a beer in such a setting might involve social services. People don't really like that and for good reason. So, for the most part, we forbid our youth to go near alcohol. We drill it into their heads that they will be in huge trouble if they drink underage. All the while throwing them the car keys and saying, "Have fun with this two ton, extremely dangerous machine." You see where I'm going with this, don't you readers? When these kids turn 18, they already have a few years driving under their belt and it would be safe to assume some confidence on the road as well. Then these 18 year-olds go to college. Where they WILL drink, no matter how many douchy anti-DUI commercials the Police Department puts out. It's going to happen. And since these young adults cannot go to a bar near campus, nor can they, god-forbid, stay on campus itself for such endeavors; they are forced to the horrifying private residence of, most often, a total stranger. Once in this poorly decorated apartment the "forbidden" aspect is abrasively broken and years and years of beer and liquor advertising take their effect. The atmosphere at this location is "Drink! Drink! Drink!" You see where this leads. One asshole hands this 18 year old an large bottle of something terrible and this young person is strongly encouraged to down it.
Back in Europe, at the bar intentionally built in the middle of the student union, with the most amount of traffic, the same 18 year old has been cut off by the bartender. Seeing as how this student can walk to his/her dorm from there will probably take precedence over driving to continue the party elsewhere. Hopefully. The point is the option is there.
Eric and I shared this view on drinking and to be in such agreement from one culture to another is a great feeling. There were things conversation we didn't agree on, naturally, like how there really is no amount education or preparation a young adult can have before deciding to give themselves alcohol poisoning. Some people just make bad decisions. I'm not sure if I totally agree with that, but I cannot deny that it certainly happens. At a party at college I saw an ambulance take an 18 year-old girl out of the apartment below ours. The story was she had drank a handle of vodka and showed up to this party, being carried, and was unconscious for her entire stay. Which was about 2-3 hours. This was shocking to me. For 2-3 hours people at that party stepped over her, saw her on the couch "sleeping," probably did that stupid thing where you draw on people with a sharpie or something equally as lame, never checking to see if she was breathing. No one even realized she was slowly dying. That wouldn't have happened if she had been in a bar. End of story. I felt terrible knowing that there was someone just one floor down from me who might have lived if someone had just payed attention. But in this environment, everyone is drunk, for the most part, and thus is went unnoticed. She passed away in the hospital that night from alcohol poisoning.
I realize there are so many factors into people going out and drinking, and I am aware that changing a few laws wouldn't really help. It is the actual difference in culture from one country to another that makes the biggest difference. It simply comes down to the US is not Europe. Not that I am complaining, I love this country, and although I have never visited every country in Europe, I will probably still like the US the most. It's just that this place can be really frustrating at times.
I want to move on to my train ride back with Eric from Germany. Him and I sparked a discussion about alcohol consumption in American and German cultures. To start with a contrast, in Germany, it is apparently not uncommon to have a drink with adults present when you are around 15 years of age. Which is something I have mixed feelings about. In the United States, those of you reading this from Russia, you have to be 21 in order to buy/publicly consume alcohol. Which happens to be another law I have mixed feelings about. For one, drinking at a young age can be a dangerous thing. However being exposed to alcohol, in an environment that is not shaming you or forbidding such an act, may in fact lighten the mood. This, in general, will diminish something I will refer to as "getting krunk." The pressure of drinking, possibly for the first time, simply doesn't exist. It's a beer. Enjoy it.
However in America, a 15 year old having a beer in such a setting might involve social services. People don't really like that and for good reason. So, for the most part, we forbid our youth to go near alcohol. We drill it into their heads that they will be in huge trouble if they drink underage. All the while throwing them the car keys and saying, "Have fun with this two ton, extremely dangerous machine." You see where I'm going with this, don't you readers? When these kids turn 18, they already have a few years driving under their belt and it would be safe to assume some confidence on the road as well. Then these 18 year-olds go to college. Where they WILL drink, no matter how many douchy anti-DUI commercials the Police Department puts out. It's going to happen. And since these young adults cannot go to a bar near campus, nor can they, god-forbid, stay on campus itself for such endeavors; they are forced to the horrifying private residence of, most often, a total stranger. Once in this poorly decorated apartment the "forbidden" aspect is abrasively broken and years and years of beer and liquor advertising take their effect. The atmosphere at this location is "Drink! Drink! Drink!" You see where this leads. One asshole hands this 18 year old an large bottle of something terrible and this young person is strongly encouraged to down it.
Back in Europe, at the bar intentionally built in the middle of the student union, with the most amount of traffic, the same 18 year old has been cut off by the bartender. Seeing as how this student can walk to his/her dorm from there will probably take precedence over driving to continue the party elsewhere. Hopefully. The point is the option is there.
Eric and I shared this view on drinking and to be in such agreement from one culture to another is a great feeling. There were things conversation we didn't agree on, naturally, like how there really is no amount education or preparation a young adult can have before deciding to give themselves alcohol poisoning. Some people just make bad decisions. I'm not sure if I totally agree with that, but I cannot deny that it certainly happens. At a party at college I saw an ambulance take an 18 year-old girl out of the apartment below ours. The story was she had drank a handle of vodka and showed up to this party, being carried, and was unconscious for her entire stay. Which was about 2-3 hours. This was shocking to me. For 2-3 hours people at that party stepped over her, saw her on the couch "sleeping," probably did that stupid thing where you draw on people with a sharpie or something equally as lame, never checking to see if she was breathing. No one even realized she was slowly dying. That wouldn't have happened if she had been in a bar. End of story. I felt terrible knowing that there was someone just one floor down from me who might have lived if someone had just payed attention. But in this environment, everyone is drunk, for the most part, and thus is went unnoticed. She passed away in the hospital that night from alcohol poisoning.
I realize there are so many factors into people going out and drinking, and I am aware that changing a few laws wouldn't really help. It is the actual difference in culture from one country to another that makes the biggest difference. It simply comes down to the US is not Europe. Not that I am complaining, I love this country, and although I have never visited every country in Europe, I will probably still like the US the most. It's just that this place can be really frustrating at times.
Friday, December 23, 2011
Reflection
I am sitting down in an apartment that is not my own. Both of the lovely tenants have gone home for the holidays. I have been entrusted to maintain this place and its belongings for the next few days. I am not entirely sure how I got myself into this scenario, but I am incredibly thankful that I do, in fact, have a place to stay. Trusting someone comes naturally to some and I can say that I am indeed one of those people. I hope I can keep a good balance of trusting and being trustworthy for as long as I live. Integrity is often something people overlook when they consider desirable qualities in themselves or others. I think it's high time we all change that.
This will be my first Christmas in New York. I can honestly say I thought I would be going home during this time, but circumstance has mandated that I stay. I understand why. I get that being alone is something I was asking for when I moved here. It was predictable really. Nevertheless being here now has left me with an overwhelming wave of sorrow. Self-pity for not being with my family, unhappiness for not being able to give gifts to the people I love, sorrow for other people in my position and those less fortunate who celebrate a family-oriented holiday, by themselves, for years and years and years. It's the saddest thing I can think of at this moment. I'm sure I'll skype my family and make the best of my ill-timed move to this place. I'm sure that years from now, I'll be having an incredible Christmas with those I love and care for, and this year will be but a silly story I tell people when I feel like one-up-ing their "Christmas gone wrong" tales. There is no such hope for others however. For some people, what I consider depressing is just.. normal.
I am not writing this to make anyone feel bad for me. This is not a case of the "poor-me's." Please save such sympathies for those who couldn't afford gifts for their children this year. Save your Yule-Tide Spirit for the spouse who is barely getting through their first Christmas without their husband/wife due to death or sickness or war or any number of other things in this world that separate us from one another.
In all truth I have been very lucky and blessed for the past few weeks. I have no real reason to whining about anything and with that in mind I will be scouring the interwebs for volunteer opportunities. If anyone knows of something like that feel free to let me know as that would be awesome. Thanks and Merry Christmas/Chanukah/Kwanza/Whathaveyou.
This will be my first Christmas in New York. I can honestly say I thought I would be going home during this time, but circumstance has mandated that I stay. I understand why. I get that being alone is something I was asking for when I moved here. It was predictable really. Nevertheless being here now has left me with an overwhelming wave of sorrow. Self-pity for not being with my family, unhappiness for not being able to give gifts to the people I love, sorrow for other people in my position and those less fortunate who celebrate a family-oriented holiday, by themselves, for years and years and years. It's the saddest thing I can think of at this moment. I'm sure I'll skype my family and make the best of my ill-timed move to this place. I'm sure that years from now, I'll be having an incredible Christmas with those I love and care for, and this year will be but a silly story I tell people when I feel like one-up-ing their "Christmas gone wrong" tales. There is no such hope for others however. For some people, what I consider depressing is just.. normal.
I am not writing this to make anyone feel bad for me. This is not a case of the "poor-me's." Please save such sympathies for those who couldn't afford gifts for their children this year. Save your Yule-Tide Spirit for the spouse who is barely getting through their first Christmas without their husband/wife due to death or sickness or war or any number of other things in this world that separate us from one another.
In all truth I have been very lucky and blessed for the past few weeks. I have no real reason to whining about anything and with that in mind I will be scouring the interwebs for volunteer opportunities. If anyone knows of something like that feel free to let me know as that would be awesome. Thanks and Merry Christmas/Chanukah/Kwanza/Whathaveyou.
Sunday, December 18, 2011
How to Couch Surf
The last week has been somewhat hectic and as a result, I didn't get around to giving this an update. Which is pretty much the story for every blog ever, at one point or another. I'm not too worried about, I will have to just make a better effort to not make this a habit. But I digress.
Since my last, long winded update I have been very busy at orientation for Whole Foods, setting up a tutoring gig, and being a social butterfly. A term I use intentionally so I can make a clear segue to my recent additions in body art.
Yes, they are real. No, it didn't hurt, you only have to make it through that damp, cold rag making contact with your skin. Which, according to the instructions, should only be 30 seconds, but it totally feels like 45-47.
My time is only becoming more and more scarce as the amount of jobs I apply for actually call me back along with convincing people to let me sleep on their couch while I work out when I will be moving into a place where I actually pay rent. Which is no easy task. It's like constantly badgering your friends to hang out while they slowly realize how annoying you are, or I am. Whatever. It honestly hasn't been that bad. I've got some really great friends here and no reason, at all, to complain. So I wont.
There really is an art to couch surfing. I suppose you don't have to, but if you want to maintain the friends you are staying with, treating the process like this will go a long way.
First and foremost, don't be a dick. At all. This period of time is temporary and as soon as you get back to the norm of having a space to call you own you can always be as much of a Dbag as you like. Just don't over do it.
Second, you should really go out of your way to make life easier for whoever is hosting you. Cooking meals, saving them leftovers, cleaning their kitchen/bathroom are just a few ideas. Honestly the more creative you get with helping them out, the less likely they are to become annoyed with you overstaying your welcome; which is something I am realizing you can comprehend in the exact moment when the thought crosses their mind. Discernment is a double-edged sword.
Third, treat every day like you will be leaving at any time. A bad habit is to spread your stuff out and "claim and area" as your own. Unless you get an actual guest room to stay in, keep all of your belongings together, zipped up, and ready to leave at a moments notice. This is easier said than done, but it will help you out in the long run.
Lastly, Listen to plenty Justin Bieber on the best speakers at the residence for as long as humanly possible. It really livens up the mood and get everyone is a super-positive/productive mode.
Since my last, long winded update I have been very busy at orientation for Whole Foods, setting up a tutoring gig, and being a social butterfly. A term I use intentionally so I can make a clear segue to my recent additions in body art.
My time is only becoming more and more scarce as the amount of jobs I apply for actually call me back along with convincing people to let me sleep on their couch while I work out when I will be moving into a place where I actually pay rent. Which is no easy task. It's like constantly badgering your friends to hang out while they slowly realize how annoying you are, or I am. Whatever. It honestly hasn't been that bad. I've got some really great friends here and no reason, at all, to complain. So I wont.
There really is an art to couch surfing. I suppose you don't have to, but if you want to maintain the friends you are staying with, treating the process like this will go a long way.
First and foremost, don't be a dick. At all. This period of time is temporary and as soon as you get back to the norm of having a space to call you own you can always be as much of a Dbag as you like. Just don't over do it.
Second, you should really go out of your way to make life easier for whoever is hosting you. Cooking meals, saving them leftovers, cleaning their kitchen/bathroom are just a few ideas. Honestly the more creative you get with helping them out, the less likely they are to become annoyed with you overstaying your welcome; which is something I am realizing you can comprehend in the exact moment when the thought crosses their mind. Discernment is a double-edged sword.
Third, treat every day like you will be leaving at any time. A bad habit is to spread your stuff out and "claim and area" as your own. Unless you get an actual guest room to stay in, keep all of your belongings together, zipped up, and ready to leave at a moments notice. This is easier said than done, but it will help you out in the long run.
Lastly, Listen to plenty Justin Bieber on the best speakers at the residence for as long as humanly possible. It really livens up the mood and get everyone is a super-positive/productive mode.
Monday, December 12, 2011
Grace
I suppose now is as good a time as any to inform anyone reading this that I am a complete scumbag. That being said, it is not entirely accurate. It's really rather complicated and has everything to do with why I suddenly became intensely motivated to move here.
It all started when I began my five year venture into college. I began dating a lovely girl who's only fault was giving me far too much credit. Something, ironically, I intensely long for in my future partner. Trust. It's something I didn't fully understand until I proved myself not worthy of having it. Trusting someone in a relationship is a beautiful thing and taking advantage of that trust is easier then beating my little sister at tether-ball. (Which I've never done, but if I did, it would be brutal) Anyway we dated for the better part of four years and in that time I cheated on her. More than once.
I'm going to rewind to when I was in high school for a moment. When I was a teenager I dreamt of one day meeting a beautiful girl, falling in love with her, and getting married. My parents have been divorced since I was about two years old and one thing I swore to myself back then was that I would never let anything like that happen to me. Ever. I would love my wife, unconditionally, until I died. They were intense fantasies about a life I knew absolutely nothing about. Coming out of thirteen year, overly-sheltered, private Christian education, the real world had a huge shit-eating grin on its face the moment I convinced myself my actions had no consequences.Which is downright silly.
There are always consequences, good and bad. But when I began college I was so convincing, to my girlfriend and myself that what I was doing simply wasn't happening or at least was not wrong in mine or God's eyes. I lied to her. I lied to myself. And I believed it like you would believe an admirable college professor; hanging on their every word like it was the most truthful and awe-inspiring lecture you've ever taken notes on.
She had no idea what was going on. The signs were there, my unprovoked, erratic behavior was wildly gesturing at something rotten in my core. Yet she accepted and loved me anyway. Just like my high school fantasy, loving each other no matter what. The details of what I was actually doing faded away behind a facade of never wanting to let go of a seemingly desirable relationship.
There are moments I take away from this time when I can honestly say I loved this woman. I shared real moments of passion, laughter, sadness, and love that, as I reflect, were truthful in the moment. However when you look at the big picture, when you see it with hindsight, knowing full-well that I was unfaithful and irrational in justifying all the temporary break ups in order to allow my mind to avoid the guilt that beguiled my entire soul... all of those moments crumble to the unmistakeable truth that I built my beautiful fantasy of falling in love on a turbulent sea of deceit and lies.
There isn't a day that passes when I don't regret these actions. I think it was months after I moved to Raleigh that I fully came to understand what I had done. We are all selfish to a certain degree and I certainly hate what I did to this person; but what scared me more than that was the fact that I lied to myself and distorted the truth so far that I no longer was able to discern reality from my own perversion. It was the worst epiphany I have ever had and I certainly wish that no one else ever reaches this point in their life. It was terrible. I beat myself up over it. In essence, I became all of the things I swore I wouldn't ever become.
It is because of this that I have devoted my life to the pursuit of honesty. I came out of this depression knowing that being truthful, in every possible moment, needed to replace whatever was inside of me that allowed such trickery to go so far. I needed radical honesty. (Which also happens to be a book that can really help facilitate this process for anyone who is interested, I recommend it)
I wish I could end this post telling you that I reaped what sowed on this venture. The consequences, at that in point in time, seemed like they had run their course. I was wrong. It wouldn't be until over a year later that I would experience loss like that I inflicted on my college girlfriend. I thought I understood the universe when I triumphantly discovered radical honesty and books and lectures by Rob Bell and even rediscovering the beautiful poetry and parables of the Bible. It seemed like I was back in balance with myself and the world. And in so believing that, I made myself comfortable with "getting back out there" into the dating scene. It would prove to be an equally important lesson, but one that I will have to share another time.
I still have those fantasies about falling in love. I still dream about having a beautiful and spectacular relationship with someone who also happens to be my best friend. I am just much more aware of how things really work as opposed to wishing that things worked a certain way.
It all started when I began my five year venture into college. I began dating a lovely girl who's only fault was giving me far too much credit. Something, ironically, I intensely long for in my future partner. Trust. It's something I didn't fully understand until I proved myself not worthy of having it. Trusting someone in a relationship is a beautiful thing and taking advantage of that trust is easier then beating my little sister at tether-ball. (Which I've never done, but if I did, it would be brutal) Anyway we dated for the better part of four years and in that time I cheated on her. More than once.
I'm going to rewind to when I was in high school for a moment. When I was a teenager I dreamt of one day meeting a beautiful girl, falling in love with her, and getting married. My parents have been divorced since I was about two years old and one thing I swore to myself back then was that I would never let anything like that happen to me. Ever. I would love my wife, unconditionally, until I died. They were intense fantasies about a life I knew absolutely nothing about. Coming out of thirteen year, overly-sheltered, private Christian education, the real world had a huge shit-eating grin on its face the moment I convinced myself my actions had no consequences.Which is downright silly.
There are always consequences, good and bad. But when I began college I was so convincing, to my girlfriend and myself that what I was doing simply wasn't happening or at least was not wrong in mine or God's eyes. I lied to her. I lied to myself. And I believed it like you would believe an admirable college professor; hanging on their every word like it was the most truthful and awe-inspiring lecture you've ever taken notes on.
She had no idea what was going on. The signs were there, my unprovoked, erratic behavior was wildly gesturing at something rotten in my core. Yet she accepted and loved me anyway. Just like my high school fantasy, loving each other no matter what. The details of what I was actually doing faded away behind a facade of never wanting to let go of a seemingly desirable relationship.
There are moments I take away from this time when I can honestly say I loved this woman. I shared real moments of passion, laughter, sadness, and love that, as I reflect, were truthful in the moment. However when you look at the big picture, when you see it with hindsight, knowing full-well that I was unfaithful and irrational in justifying all the temporary break ups in order to allow my mind to avoid the guilt that beguiled my entire soul... all of those moments crumble to the unmistakeable truth that I built my beautiful fantasy of falling in love on a turbulent sea of deceit and lies.
There isn't a day that passes when I don't regret these actions. I think it was months after I moved to Raleigh that I fully came to understand what I had done. We are all selfish to a certain degree and I certainly hate what I did to this person; but what scared me more than that was the fact that I lied to myself and distorted the truth so far that I no longer was able to discern reality from my own perversion. It was the worst epiphany I have ever had and I certainly wish that no one else ever reaches this point in their life. It was terrible. I beat myself up over it. In essence, I became all of the things I swore I wouldn't ever become.
It is because of this that I have devoted my life to the pursuit of honesty. I came out of this depression knowing that being truthful, in every possible moment, needed to replace whatever was inside of me that allowed such trickery to go so far. I needed radical honesty. (Which also happens to be a book that can really help facilitate this process for anyone who is interested, I recommend it)
I wish I could end this post telling you that I reaped what sowed on this venture. The consequences, at that in point in time, seemed like they had run their course. I was wrong. It wouldn't be until over a year later that I would experience loss like that I inflicted on my college girlfriend. I thought I understood the universe when I triumphantly discovered radical honesty and books and lectures by Rob Bell and even rediscovering the beautiful poetry and parables of the Bible. It seemed like I was back in balance with myself and the world. And in so believing that, I made myself comfortable with "getting back out there" into the dating scene. It would prove to be an equally important lesson, but one that I will have to share another time.
I still have those fantasies about falling in love. I still dream about having a beautiful and spectacular relationship with someone who also happens to be my best friend. I am just much more aware of how things really work as opposed to wishing that things worked a certain way.
Sunday, December 11, 2011
My First Party
Friday evening was one of the best nights I've had in a while. The night started with meeting an old friend I met at Kingston University in 2008 on my lovely trip to the U.K. Neil and I caught up over a brew, and since he has a three hour commute from Connecticut, he had to be on his way rather early; however I am sure I will be seeing much more of him. Updates on that soon.
I then made my way back to Astoria to meet two beautiful ladies at a bar where the bartender, allegedly, performs magic tricks. The rumor was true and although he didn't go too far out of his way, he subtly showed off his craft quite wall by walking into a freezer door and making it look rather convincing. Back to the company though. These roommates and I had a really great conversation about honesty and exboyfriends/girlfriends. I will divulge more on that later. We parted ways after a few hours as I made my way to a semi-formal Christmas party with Arick and Elyse.
Upon arrival to this soiree we found Justin Bieber just chilling in the kitchen with a santa hat. My heart skipped a beat or two, it may have been cardiac arrest, whatever. Arick got his picture with him as you have probably already noticed.
Fun fact: Arick always eats his candy canes like that.
The people at this party were great and I'm not just saying that because I decided to actively engage in drinking liquor again for the first time in probably a year or so; I am saying they were great because they actually were. Arick and I broke out the Watauga Puff via Boone Drug and represented the pipe smokers everywhere. Afterwards I immediately remembered why I generally don't smoke pipes and my throat is still, understandably, rather upset with me. That being said, it was worth it. I met some new friends, some friends of friends, and friends that probably wont remember meeting me. Which is okay in my book, considering that book was rather inebriated anyway.
The rest of my weekend was spent looking around for a new apartment and eating canned tomatoes. The apartment hunting went okay, I think I'll be ready to move by next week. And canned tomatoes can be hazardous to your health, so but buy fresh ones and cut them up from now on!
I then made my way back to Astoria to meet two beautiful ladies at a bar where the bartender, allegedly, performs magic tricks. The rumor was true and although he didn't go too far out of his way, he subtly showed off his craft quite wall by walking into a freezer door and making it look rather convincing. Back to the company though. These roommates and I had a really great conversation about honesty and exboyfriends/girlfriends. I will divulge more on that later. We parted ways after a few hours as I made my way to a semi-formal Christmas party with Arick and Elyse.
Upon arrival to this soiree we found Justin Bieber just chilling in the kitchen with a santa hat. My heart skipped a beat or two, it may have been cardiac arrest, whatever. Arick got his picture with him as you have probably already noticed.
Fun fact: Arick always eats his candy canes like that.
The people at this party were great and I'm not just saying that because I decided to actively engage in drinking liquor again for the first time in probably a year or so; I am saying they were great because they actually were. Arick and I broke out the Watauga Puff via Boone Drug and represented the pipe smokers everywhere. Afterwards I immediately remembered why I generally don't smoke pipes and my throat is still, understandably, rather upset with me. That being said, it was worth it. I met some new friends, some friends of friends, and friends that probably wont remember meeting me. Which is okay in my book, considering that book was rather inebriated anyway.
The rest of my weekend was spent looking around for a new apartment and eating canned tomatoes. The apartment hunting went okay, I think I'll be ready to move by next week. And canned tomatoes can be hazardous to your health, so but buy fresh ones and cut them up from now on!
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
The Fortune Cookie
My last week in Raleigh was some quality time spent with some of the best roommates craigslist could possibly offer. I'm going to miss those guys, we were a lot alike. One of the last nights there, while playing copious amounts of Skyrim, I ordered what would be the last sesame chicken and rice combos from Shanghai Express I would ever have. Upon reaching the fortune cookie I opened it to reveal that I "will soon find out how truly fortunate I really am." Given my sullen and downtrodden mood, it was a nice idea to look forward to.
My first few days in this city have been very fortunate indeed. In two days I got two part time jobs. Which I haven't started yet, but considering I looked for two months to find a job in Raleigh after I graduated, I'd say it's pretty darn remarkable.
I've met a spiritually awake insurance salesman and one of the 700 arrested protesters on the Brooklyn bridge from OWS a while back. Nice guy. We talked about Ron Paul. I don't follow politics too much, but I can say he scares me the least of the candidates on the Republican party's Debate Extravaganza 2011.
Tonight I went to get a nice hot beverage with my friend Audra. After the tea she recommended going to a specific bar for a beer. Well, a beer for me; apparently people that follow through with not drinking while on antibiotics actually exist! Solid. Anyway I sit down at the bar and three seats away from me is none other than Desiree. A friend from college whom I knew was in New York, but really couldn't have known was at this bar, or in Astoria for that matter. It was one of those "New York" moments people always rave about. I must say, it felt really awesome. We three had a pretty good time catching up.
Later on, on my way to Chelsea to see Nolan's pretty rad new place, I noticed this Mitch Albom book sitting on a bench. Having read For One more Day by the same author, I was pretty excited about potentially reading another one of Albom's books. I feel I must interject that For One More Day made my eyes sweat. And before you judge me for crying over a book, read it yourself, and if you still want to make fun of me I will let you sling any insults you like while I remind you that you are a soulless robot. It's an incredible book.
It was about this time I noticed a lovely lady who was also interested in the find. I put it back down on the bench and she asked if I was going to read it. I told her I wanted to but was reading other things at the moment. I told her the author was really good and she offered to give it to me when she was finished. I graciously accepted.
I have had some really positive experiences so far in this city. I can really understand why multiple people who live here answer the question, "How have you been?" with, "Oh, still living the dream." I am finding out that I am, in fact, very fortunate indeed. I am finding out that this place has an energy all its own. Unpredictable and seemingly Newtonian in an odd way. I can only hope that my good fortune here is only just beginning, but I don't want to jinx it; so I'll just try and be as thankful as I can for what I have and keep being completely in the moment for the incredible chain of events that has unfolded so far. This city is growing on me. Which makes me think of some sort of unsightly growth on my back in the shape of a skyline. So, not that kind of growing on me, the usual kind instead.
My first few days in this city have been very fortunate indeed. In two days I got two part time jobs. Which I haven't started yet, but considering I looked for two months to find a job in Raleigh after I graduated, I'd say it's pretty darn remarkable.
I've met a spiritually awake insurance salesman and one of the 700 arrested protesters on the Brooklyn bridge from OWS a while back. Nice guy. We talked about Ron Paul. I don't follow politics too much, but I can say he scares me the least of the candidates on the Republican party's Debate Extravaganza 2011.
Tonight I went to get a nice hot beverage with my friend Audra. After the tea she recommended going to a specific bar for a beer. Well, a beer for me; apparently people that follow through with not drinking while on antibiotics actually exist! Solid. Anyway I sit down at the bar and three seats away from me is none other than Desiree. A friend from college whom I knew was in New York, but really couldn't have known was at this bar, or in Astoria for that matter. It was one of those "New York" moments people always rave about. I must say, it felt really awesome. We three had a pretty good time catching up.
Later on, on my way to Chelsea to see Nolan's pretty rad new place, I noticed this Mitch Albom book sitting on a bench. Having read For One more Day by the same author, I was pretty excited about potentially reading another one of Albom's books. I feel I must interject that For One More Day made my eyes sweat. And before you judge me for crying over a book, read it yourself, and if you still want to make fun of me I will let you sling any insults you like while I remind you that you are a soulless robot. It's an incredible book.
It was about this time I noticed a lovely lady who was also interested in the find. I put it back down on the bench and she asked if I was going to read it. I told her I wanted to but was reading other things at the moment. I told her the author was really good and she offered to give it to me when she was finished. I graciously accepted.
I have had some really positive experiences so far in this city. I can really understand why multiple people who live here answer the question, "How have you been?" with, "Oh, still living the dream." I am finding out that I am, in fact, very fortunate indeed. I am finding out that this place has an energy all its own. Unpredictable and seemingly Newtonian in an odd way. I can only hope that my good fortune here is only just beginning, but I don't want to jinx it; so I'll just try and be as thankful as I can for what I have and keep being completely in the moment for the incredible chain of events that has unfolded so far. This city is growing on me. Which makes me think of some sort of unsightly growth on my back in the shape of a skyline. So, not that kind of growing on me, the usual kind instead.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)