Here I sit at my computer in the early morning hours of January 1, 2009. The holidays are over. The frenzy and excitement of December behind us all. The "glass half empty" folk say, "here comes January, dark, frigid, and bleak," while the half-fulls say, "'tis the start of a new year, new opportunities, new people to meet & experiences all around!" Clearly I identify more with the latter, but as reflect about the past year, I find myself thinking, "how could 2009 be better than 2008, the greatest year of my life?"

Ironically, this year of happiness for me was one of the worst for the country at large; our investment banks crumbled, companies were bailed out and/or sold off, and stocks lost value; the housing market seemed to get shittier, gettin credit became virtually impossible, and from a personal standpoint, literally everyone I called on at work for 3-4 months said, "Yea, well we'd love to partner with you guys but our budget just got cut in half." Money wasn't flowin and the land of milk and honey, for the first time in my lifetime, was not what it once was.

Yet for me, 2008 was incredible. My mother just tonight asked me, "what did you learn from the past year?" I though for a second and replied, "that there is happiness to be found in most areas of life; the trick is finding it sometimes. Life is too short to be anything but happy, so go out, enjoy yourself, and focus on the good and disregard the bad." It all sounds cliched, or that it's been said before (which I'm sure it has) but I now know it myself to be truth. If you aren't in a "good place" (be it a living situation, relationship, job, etc.) it's my belief that you must remove yourself from it - cut out of your life whatever is bringing you down, holding you back, or preventing you from being happy. Luckily, I was extremely blessed with a host of good experiences, good people, and great memories from the year past, but even the bad times didn't seem so bad.

I began the year traveling almost weekly for work. This accelerated the cold winter and kept me busy; since I loved and continue to love my job, each journey was more an experience rather than a "business trip." I began to read the Journal on a more frequent basis and for the first time, felt like I "knew more about the world" around me (I stopped reading the good ol' WSJ as much as I did back then, as fate would have it, but who's to say I won't pick it up again soon?) I learned much about relationships and friendships, as well - for one, on a first date, talk less and listen more. One girl I went out with in March told me I talked to much about myself. Must been on another one of my crazy 'jam kicks.' I also took some risks in that area - i.e. making moves and getting rejected - but I am happy to have gained the experience. I went to London on a whim and it felt like I doubled my friend-base :) Hungarian Bence is actually one we met while there and is coming to visit at the end of January '09. I led a JDRF fundraiser, moved into Manhattan, had the most amazing and eventful summer, earned a small raise, got a new co-worker, started this blog (!!) and saw America elect Barack Obama. What a memorable night that was; I'll never forget the surge of pride, excitement, and happiness I had that entire week.

I also said to my mother re: 2008 that it was the people around me constantly that helped to make the year so great. My family, roomate, friends, co-worker & bossses are all amazingly wonderful; for that alone I should never be allowed to complain again because my situation is just so miraculous. From parents who are still as supportive and loving as ever to bosses that have been mentors and friends, I feel like the luckiest person alive sometimes. Additionally, my friends are all around me and only nurture and enrich me. Whether it's meeting a group at a happy hour, going to a museum, late night Chinese, homecoming, concerts, dinners, or just apartment hang outs, my friends are all around and bring me so much joy. When I'm home in Ohio, the same thing goes - I feel so lucky to be close with a majority of people back in the homeland so as not to feel like my "only world" is New York. It's not - and thank God - because I love the "dual world" situation that is my life.

There are just too many things to name; I'm getting tired though so I'm gonna stop but continue soon.

Another Interesting Encounter(s)

So I'm always going on and on about my "whacky New York people" stories. This one actually happened back in the homestead at the Akron/Canton airport. You see, I was flying back to New York after I'd spent the weekend at home for a Disc Jockey gig (although I've abandoned the idea of flying home for a gig everytime I get one since my equipment is Ohio-based, this woman locked me in for the gig back in March). As I got onto the airplane, the flight attendant said, "Hi! How are you?" I replied, "great, and you?" He then said the following, "I'm blessed." That's all. I stood there, bobbed my head up and down awkwardly for a second, and took it in. "I'm blessed!?" What an odd thing to say, I thought. Definitely not the typical greeting you receive as you enter an aircraft. I found myself reflecting upon this for awhile, primarily because I knew that I TOO felt blessed, at that moment and always; he might as well have responded, "I'm jam". I was just having trouble wrapping my head around the idea that this gentlemen could proclaime it with such ease as a response to a greeting (and he did this to everyone; I'd heard him say it to three people behind me as they entered).

Subsequently, I sat down in my seat and somehow began a conversation with the elderly gentlmen sitting next to me. I think the origin of the conversation was my offering him some homemade pecans I was eating. He then proceeded to tell me he would love some, but doesn't eat anything he doesn't completely trust before flying (or being on any mode of long or fairly long-term transportation) because he may have "difficulties" in the "bathroom" or something to that effect; I found myself thinking, "God I love old people; it's like all caution's thrown to the wind when you get to that age and they'll say anything!" His name was Andy Kamen, and he proceeded to tell me everything - literally EVERYTHING - about his life; he was, ironically enough, a Fordham grad, class of '47, worked as a chemist for 42 years, and was visiting his daughter and grandchildren in Rye, NY. His daughter was a lawyer for Morgan & Finnigan on 48th & Park Ave. but's now married to "one of those guys who makes a million dollar bonus" according to Andy (not THIS year, buddy, I thought). Nevertheless, I really didn't want to talk - being social on planes, subways, or even long car rides is really not "my thing" - but I felt compelled to listen and almost a little sad for him. It was clear he just wanted someone to talk to, even if the person never said anything but merely listened to his stories.

Two interesting encounters; the former "I'm blessed" situation is one I'm glad I encountered because it got me thinking/reflecting on "socially accepted greetings" and how "I'm fine," "I'm well," "Good, you?" are ubiquitous yet very stale. Although it caught me off guard (and really, how do you respond to "I'm blessed?") I felt refreshed and actually happy for this man; a) he felt confident enough to share that with me and b) I related to that feeling and c) it was an innovative way to respond to my question that so many times warrants the same old, "I'm good." I feel so blessed literally all the time; truth is, I often don't share it so openly with people because I feel I'd be "rubbing it in" or almost intrusive by bringing it up; "Oh yea, by the way, did I tell you how BLESSED and AWESOME I feel right now!? Yeah!!" You can see where it may get obnoxious. I keep thinking of my friend Jeff, who's probably heard his fair share of my "jam" rhetoric yet takes it all with a smile.

In a little over a month, my friend Bence is flying to America from Hungary and staying with me in New York for 1 1/2 weeks. He's 19, and although well-traveled in Europe, he's never been to America before and is absolutely psyched about seeing New York for the first time. I met Ben while in London last May; he was oen of my hostel roommates. He hung out with Mikey and I and we bonded; he's a great kid and I was sad to say goodbye to him after our 4-Day trip. "I would like to come to New York," he said, and I'm thinking, sadly, I'll probably never see you again. Well we kept in touch via Facebook, and now he;s crossing the pond. Bringing two worlds together; getting a glimpse of his culture, family, way of life, and vice versa, is one reason I feel incredibly blessed - partially because of me, Ben is making a journey, and a long one, at that - that would have never happened if not for a spontaneous London trip, which would have never happened if I hadn't read "AM New York" free newspaper on Monday morning, April 14, 2008, and caught the British Airways "cheap flights" ad. That, my friends, is jam.

As for Andy, I may never see this 82-year-old again, but I will always remember us bonding over Fordham; also I will remember his willingness to engage me in conversation and how damn proud he was of his children, grandchildren, and even his own life (as he well should have!) He may have had less than desirable breath, and definitely made my neck hurt (because I cocked my head to listen to him, he was slouched a bit in his chair) but I will cherish that encounter forever.

Weirdest Thing Ever - One of Many New York People Stories

I've met and interacted with MANY interesting people while living in New York. Of course, "interesting" people means both "normal" (or what society would deem such) and then naturally the "abnormal" (odd, socially awkward, eccentric, of just plain nutty). That was yesterday. Just twenty minutes ago, a "new era of weird" began in my life following one of the weirdest encounters ever; I'm still sorting the experience out in my own mind and trying to clarify anything I can, "did that actually happen, was she mentally handicapped, did anyone else see her!?"

Here's what transpired: It was 10 AM, and I'd been debating whether or not to make a quick Starbucks run to get a cup of ice for my regular hot coffee. Before I delve into the story, I should explain that I'm obsessed with ice - an ice fiend, no joke - that will ask for "a cup full of just ice" to go along with my beverage 9 times out of 10. This AM, as fate would have it, I simply didn't have time to get that extra ice-filled cup; I'd literally grabbed a small cup of warm coffee and ran.

I finally decided to go, although technically I'm not supposed to leave the office, especially because my co-worker is out today and my boss is attending a memorial service; I'm the "phone guy" in that case. Neverthless I headed down to the corner Starbucks at 87th & Lex, just a block away. As I stood waiting at the service area waiting for my "Venti cup of just ice, please," I noticed an elderly woman - like late 60s elderly, not late 80s - with whispy white hair standing next to me at the counter. You know that awkward and uncomfortable feeling you get when you know you're being watched? I began to get that feeling, squared, standing there next to grams. In most cases, when the "viewee" senses he/she is being watched and makes eyes with the "viewer," the latter party emberassingly looks away, or at least chuckles, or does ANYTHING BUT what this woman did - which is continue to glare, even harder. I thought, "is she going to scold me?" "Did I do something wrong?" All of a sudden, I got flashbacks from Mumbles, a lil' restaurant down in the Gramercy neighborhood, where an older gentlemen asked me, "where are your manners!?" when I didn't hold the door for him.

The woman said nothing, and as I walked over to the milk/sugar/napkin table simply just to get away, her stare actually followed me. This is ridiculous, I thought. I will just have to look back at her, maybe "turn the tables" if you will. She was a lanky woman, maybe a little over 5 feet tall, with bulging eyes and a little wool cap on. She was chewing something, maybe a cookie, very slowly - eerily slowly - and just continued staring, only this time, she looked me up and down. "Hi!" I said, attempting to make contact. She said nothing, but just kept on chewing at the same slow pace.

I was slightly disturbed, but more so perplexed - perhaps she had a mental disability, or maybe she's just old and alone, and at that point where all caution and tact have been thrown to the wind? I could only speculate. I spoke again, "Is there something wrong?" I asked. Still nothing. I got my cup of ice, headed for the door, and exited. As I left, I saw her watch me leave and begin to follow me - again, only with those eerie eyes - right out the door. I stopped, turned around, and went back in. She had her back turned to me now, so I approached her, tappedput my hand lightly on her her shoulder, and asked, "Excuse me ma'am, is something wrong? Do I have something on me?" She didn't move; the only action she took was squezzing some peanut butter out of a little packet to put on her cookie. A Starbucks employee looked at me; all I could say was, "I'm sorry, she kept looking at me, wanted to make sure everything was okay..."

I left, went back up to my office, and decided that now is a perfect time to begin writing in my blog again - I'd taken a little hiatus. A story like this is simply too odd, and too mind-rattling, to let go for long.

Tolerance 101 (Part 2)

(Edited slightly (esp. because I can barely spell):

It's election time, and naturally, there's been a lot of talk about Obama vs. McCain; who's the better candidate? Who'll "save" America from full-fledged economic depression? Who has more experience? Who has a better running mate? This election raises many, many questions and, in essence, will reflect more than ever who we as Americans really are.

When I hear people - my co-workers, relatives, friends, etc. - question the credibility or intelligence of Barack Obama because he is part African-American, it absolutely infuriates me. "Is our country REALLY ready for a black president?" some ask, while others say things like, "the White House was not made for a black president!" These comments are not only ignorant, but sadly illustrate how some, even in our modernized and progressive nation, are completely backwards and seem to mentally exist in another era.

I am not here to delcare Sen. Obama a more qualified candidate than Sen. McCain, or vice versa; However, as a human being, I am here to defend the quality and character of AN INDIVIDUAL, regardless of his/her race or status in society. In a country where liberty and tolerance are "supposedly" thriving, it's downright embarrassing that some individuals actually question and/or comment on the manner I've described above. This is 21st Century America, not 1930s Germany or 18th Century England.
In all fairness, I am guilty of stereotyping as much as anyone else. As brutal as they are, we're all somehow trained to think that all blacks are lazy, all Jews are cheap, Italians are mobsters, Germans are Nazis, and Lebanese are terrorists. The list goes on; even white Caucasian Americans are stereotyped as "nerdy" by some. When I think about the narrow-mindedness and dangers of stereotyping I'm reminded of a simple phrase from Martin Luther King's "I Have a Dream" speech –

"One day, I hope my children will live in a nation where they will be judged not by the color of their skin but by the content of their character."

This might be the most crucial piece of the address - a part which I could not agree with more! Some people surely fit their own stereotypes, but in this world where such prejudice runs rampant, we constantly see GOOD and GENUINE people who clearly defy their personal stereotypes. Could Gepetto from Pinnochio really pick up a machine gun and blow someone's head off? :)
On a serious note, take a look at the current state of things - one of the richest men in the world, whose net worth was recently valued at $58 billion, is Carlos Slim Helu, a "lazy" Mexican. Some of the NICEST people I've met in my life live right here in New York City, this "hotbed" of nasty, snippy people (and conversely, some of the most worldly, cultured people I've met are from my home state of Ohio, a "Midwest nowhere" according to some). Many Germans are embarrassed by the works of their former leaders; Italians aren't all vigilante thugs, and even some white people are cool :)

So, a Sen. Obama of African-American background may very well be our next president. Why should his race and physical appearance deter us ONE bit? If you simply don't like Obama for his tax policy or any other viewpoints, that's one thing. But declaring publically (or even secretly to yourself) that you will not vote for him simply because you don't trust a black man in office is simply an admittance of your own ignorance. Admitting that a person's status/natural-born race actually overshadows any admirable qualities they may have is simply an admittance that stereotypes continue to cloud your judgment and carry more weight than that which really matters.

Most of us are smart, intelligent, and rational human beings. We know instinctively what's right and wrong; and we have some concept of what benevolence is and fairness is. Is it benevolent or fair to knowingly judge another individual based on misguided criteria that includes the race in which that person was BORN into? You can condemn, chastise, or even discriminate against a person who has caused you harm or demonstrated dislikable qualities. But dismissing, not voting for, or not giving a chance to a person based on their genetic makeup without giving them a chance at proving themselves is just downright wrong.

Tolerance 101 - America's 2008 Election

It's election time, and naturally, there's been a lot of talk about Obama vs. McCain; who's the better candidate? Who'll "save" America from full-fledged economic depression? Who has more experience? Who has a better running mate? Well, (chuckle chuckle) I know the answer to the last one...even Oscar the Grouch would've been a better choice than our Alaskan Maverick...(sorry :) just had to get in a lil' Palin bashing) But, in all seriousness, this election raises many, many questions and, in essence, will reflect more than ever who we as Americans really are.

When I hear people - my co-workers, relatives, friends, etc. - question the credibility or intelligence of Barack Obama because he is part African-American, it absolutely infuriates me. "Is our country REALLY ready for a black president?" some ask, while others say things like, "the White House was not made for a black president!" These comments are not only ignorant, but sadly illustrate how some, even in our modernized and progressive nation, are completely ass backwards and seem to mentally exist in another era.

I am not here to delcare Sen. Obama a more qualified candidate than Sen. McCain, or vice versa; anyone who regularly views my Facebook page (or perhaps even this blog) is well aware of my liberal political views. However, as a human being, I am here to defend the quality and character of AN INDIVIDUAL, regardless of his/her race or status in society. In a country where liberty and tolerance are "supposedly" thriving, it's downright emberassing that some individuals actually question and/or comment in the manner I've described above. This is 21st Century America, not 1930s Germany or 18th Century England.

In all fairness, I am guilty of stereotyping as much as anyone else. As brutal as they are, we're all somehow trained to think that all blacks are lazy, all Jews are cheap, Italians are mobsters, and Germans are Nazis. The list goes on; even white caucasian Americans are stereotyped as "nerdy" by some. When I think about the narrow-mindedness and dangers of stereotyping I'm reminded of a simple phrase from Martin Luther King's "I Have a Dream" speech -

"One day, I hope my children will live in a nation where they will be judged not by the color of their skin but by the content of their character."

This might be the most crucial piece of the address - a part which I could not agree with more! Some people surely fit their own stereotypes, but in this world where such prejudice runs rampant, we constantly see GOOD and GENUINE people who clearly defy their personal stereotypes. Could Gepetto from Pinnochio really pick up a machine gun and blow someone's head off? :)

On a serious note, take a look at the current state of things - one of the richest men in the world, whose net worth was recently valued at $58 billion, is Carlos Slim Helu, a "lazy" Mexican. Some of the NICEST people I've met in my life live right here in New York City, this "hotbed" of nasty, snippy people (and conversely, some of the most worldly, cultured people I've met are from my home state of Ohio, a "midwest nowhere" according to some). Many Germans are embarassed by the works of their former leaders; Italians aren't all vigilante thugs, and even some white people are cool :)

So, a Sen. Obama of African-American background may very well be our next president. Why should his race and physical apperance deter us ONE bit? If you simply don't like Obama for his tax policy or any other viewpoints, that's one thing. But declaring publically (or even secretly to yourself) that you will not vote for him simply because you don't trust a black man in office is simply an admittance of your own ignorance. Admitting that a person's status/natural-born race actually overshadows any admirable qualities they may have is simply an admittance that stereotypes continue to cloud your judgement and carry more weight than that which really matters.

Most of us are smart, intelligent, and rational human beings. We know instintively what's right and wrong; and we have some conecpt of what benevolence is and fairness is. Is it benevolent or fair to knowingly judge another individual based on misguided criteria that includes the race in which that person was BORN into? You can condemn, chastise, or even discriminate against a person who has caused you harm or demonstrated dislikable qualities. But dismissing, not voting for, or not giving a chance to a person based on their genetic makeup without giving them a chance at proving themseleves is just downright wrong.

This Weekend

I am attempting to pick one word/phrase to describe the events of this past weekend, starting with Jamie's Friday arrival at Van Diemen's for happy hour:

Tiger, Aussie Astronaut, "Nun of your Business," shotgun, mmm-hmm, lil' cookies, Bud Parker, Clyner! whipped..., Pat O'Brien's, couch stop, Essex, awkward small talk, no service outside? More drinks, Tavern, Mavericky moves, Abbey's "Dick," wine, more wine, Cub Room, Flowerless chocolate cake, anyone? outdoor seating, awkward bar tenders, 6.25, tin penis, Bloomberg, Mike Howely again, Papa Johns, Palin, "Rock the Vote!" Marathon, Fetch, sign language, mute, jerky, "it's fuckin freezing!" Pitchers, tenders, fries, more drinks! Harper, tiny hands, Hedge Fund, "village idiot," nice apartment! Sushi, loud guy, "are you closed?" Tiramisu, bye-byee!!! tired, tired, tired, coffee methods, work.

Can't Explain the Following

On Friday, you forgot to mention that we will also:

Greet, meet, sway, toast to good times, communicate, mediate, depreciate, appreciate, gravitate, underestimate, learn, LAUGH, cry, eat, be eaten, curse, be cursed at, philosophize, harmonize, ostracize, reflect, predict, measure, conjure, regain, restrain, hope, dope, scope, rope, grope, masticate, fornicate (maybe), rejuvenate, reminisce, Spartacus, Maximus, Optimus(prime), FG, H, South Park, clarify, classify, pacify, fly a kite, do a keg stand, body shots, fly through the air, defy gravity, bend space and time, melt objects, regenerate, burst into flames, talk to machines, read people’s thoughts, sprout petals, branch out like a tree, fall out of touch, fall into another dimension, and more…

The New Facebook

Recently, The Facebook changed its profile format and subsequently seemed to throw the world out of whack. I had literally a dozen group invitations; "Petition to have the option of 'old facebook," "1,000,000 strong against the new facebook," "Tell Mark Zuckerberg to shove it," etc. (well, I made the last one up, but you get the idea). To all of this I say, are you all fucking kidding me!?

Yes, I understand why we might gripe about these changes - Facebook is, after all, the foundation of many of our lives :) and I'm not even exaggerating. I can say, without fail, I log on AT LEAST once a day and have done so for 2 solid years. It's a great way to keep in touch and see what your friends are up to; make fun of the token drunk girl making out with 9 guys or just get a message out there that you know will instantaneously reach the masses (because, come on, who doesn't go on at least 100 times a day!?) So, we've all gotten used to our structured Facebook profiles and which are now a bit "out of whack" and structurally a bit different.

Look around you - is the sun shining? Okay, it's rainy, well are you breathing air in your lungs? Can you pop in your earphones and listen to a song(s) that will immediately put a smile on your face? Do you have love in your life, both romantic and platonic? Can you walk, talk, reason, and laugh? This all sounds ridiculously cheesy, I realize, but the point is - why should Facebook changing formats have SUCH an effect on all of our lives that we're feverishly joining groups, changing our statuses, and probably huffing and puffing about it to everyone or at least those at the water cooler? Come on, people. If that's the WORST problem you have, you are a lucky, lucky person.

Weekend o' Jam

I recently wrote a post "week o' jam" in which I described a very good 5-7 day period. Looking back, that jam-filled week was good, don't get me wrong, but compared to this past weekend it was nothin at all; it started out Friday night at "SEA" Thai restaurant in Williamsburg. My sister organized a brithday dinner there; everyone showed and the vibe was positive many good converastions were had - I would'nt have even neeeded to down those (what felt like 3,000) Mojitos I drank - go ahead, laugh, yes I like them - I subsequently left my card at the bar along with my umbrella. Sunday afternoon, I retrived both!

Saturday I headed to Brick, NJ for a reunion of sorts - a friend of mine from college organized a BBQ/End-o-summer bash at his mother's house - I have to honestly say I was a little skeptical how it would go; the kid who organized it is a wonderful human being but I've never been that close with him - you know how it is sometimes when you're at a party and are very aware that you're not part of "the group?" That's what I thought - I was DEAD wrong. I met new and interesting people, had non-awkward (very pleasant, in fact) conversations with those I hadn't seen in awhile (I actually semi-fell in love with one girl, crazy, sure it sounds, but I was diggin her so much I can't explain how drawn to her I was); it was one of those chill and happy moments/events in your life you'd like to repeat or at least think of when you're down. On the train ride back, with the help of some muzak, of course, I began to think some more about how lucky I am to be surrounded my so much love and good people; I began to feel this overwhelming sense of gratitude and happiness for my current situation - so much so that I couldn't stop smiling the entire ride back, no joke.

Sunday I was buzzed the entire afternoon watching the Giant and BSing w/roomate and our friends; Sunday I had the most erotic sexual experience of my life, to-date. May provide details later; I think it's too early in jams history to disclose such information.

Law Firm General Voicemail

Hello,You've reached the offices of Mortimer Adelstein, Malachy Rosenblatt, Harvey Finkelman-Shapirostein, and Abraham Steinman-Hauffer-Millerschteen.

We are OF COURSE a law firm.

All of us have our CPAs, too.

Please note that for the entire month of September we will be closed in observance of Rosh Hashanah.

Also, if you are looking to file suit against:
1) The Carnegie Deli
2) Stage Deli
3) anywehere they serve Halvah
4) Manhattan Bagel
5) Corky & Lenny's
5) Davis Bakeryplease hang up. We cannot assist you.

If you are looking to file suit against:
1) Germany
2) Mel Gibson
3) Jesus Christ

You are in the right place. Also, we are currently seeking matches for our daughters. The criteria:
1) your'e family's net worth must exceed $2,500,000.
2) you must work for Goldman Sachs
3) You must delete your JDate profile

Yes, I didn't mention you HAVE TO BE JEWISH, THAT'S A NO FUCKING BRAINER!! Oy!

*As with the Indian wedding a few posts back, the above is all in good fun.

All I have to say is...what were we THINKING in the 80s!?

This video, "Never Gonna Give You Up" by Rick Astley, will illustrate my point.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yu_moia-oVI

8/26/03 - 8/26/08

It's Tuesday, August 26, 2003. I'm a week shy of starting college; I'm 18, and virginal in literally every sense of the word. On this day, I nearly escaped death.

You see, I was "punched in" up at Canterbury (the club I've caddied at since 1998) which basically meant I was 'bagroom bitch' for 5+ sloooow hours. Leonard comes up to me, and is at this time, 12 years old. "Joey, CR?" (translated: Joey, how about a Golf Cart Ride?) so of course I take him on one and let him drive (in retrospect this was a MORONIC decision). We're riding around sharp bends and over cart paths. I'm talking to, funnily enough, the person who I would soon lose my virginity to - when all of a sudden, Leo puts the cart in neutral (or free fall, basically) and we go flying down hill. Only there's a bridge over a small stream ahead and it's fast approaching; Leo turns the wheel and the cart, like a child defying a parent, tilts to the side at almost a 45 degree angle, spins the other direction, and crashes forcefully into the side of the bridge. He's thrown from the cart - I'm still in tact - but we've broken the wooden plank on the bridge and nearly totalled the vehicle. I'm thinking, "if the cart would have been a foot over to the left when it tilted, Leonard would have been impaled.

Why this date?

Every year on the anniversary I think about the accident; right before, during, and right after (as if it were 9/11 or something) and also reflect on how, oddly enough, it really marked the beginning of mine and Leonard's friendship. That simple but slightly traumatic experience began a brotherly kinship between he and I. Just a few weeks back, on the 5th anniversary, I started to think about everything I've learned and experienced over the past 5 years, and how, when I reminisce and mentally return to 8/26/03, I realize my life now is completely different than the life I led then.

For one, I was on the cusp of college, yet to meet my future roomate(s) and future best friends; yet to learn some important truths about humanity and people. Yet to realize the Ohio bubble was about to burst and expose me to an uncensored but truly beautiful world outside; yet to discover that world of beauty could sometimes bring so much pain and anguish. Yet to discover jam!! Yet to create a facebook account or a blog; yet to buy condoms or even take a hit of weed. Yet to really understand the dysfunctional lives' of adults I'd looked up to in the past; yet to meet new people abroad. Yet to "hook up" outside of dating or even have a one night stand. Yet to get a "real" paycheck from a "real job;" yet to buy groceries, pay rent, and "act" like an adult. Yet to live in the boogie down, the BK, or "the city," and yet to understand and appreciate New York for what it truly is. Yet to have a cell phone (god damn! imagine that!); yet to really understand the culture and beliefs of another.

There are too many to list - in short, the last 5 years are worth a lifetime of change and growth - I must go to bed now but one final thought - what will I say in the '8/26/08 - 8/26/13' post!? I'm glad I don't know the answer to that.

Dead Poets' Society

WARNING: If you haven't seen the movie and want to, don't read this - it spoils the ending.

I just watched the phenomenal "Dead Poets' Society" flick this past weekend - I love movies where free thinking and overall freedom of expression trump the powers that be and undermine, even if for a brief time, the authoritative head(s) - and related very much to its overall plot. Although I did not attend the the fictitious, all boys-prep school 'Welton Acadmey,' I did Gilmour Academy of Gates Mills, OH for high school, and drew several parallels between Gilmour and Welton - the school's conservative values, core principles, and hierarchy, to name a few. Gilmour did treat me well, don't get me wrong; I did learn to think more analytically about things and apply classroom knowledge to the "world classroom" (God it sounds like a fuckin advertisement for the ol' Academy) but nevertheless, the school was run by the Brothers of the Holy Cross; a benevolent, but VERY traditional, order of the church.

Anyways, I digress - I was really getting into the movie (D.P.S.) and felt a personal connection with the character Neil Perry, an outgoing student of Welton who applied the 'Carpe Diem' philosophy to his everyday life. Although he had dreams of becoming an actor, Neil's father, a hard-nosed and stubborn old mule, insisted that Neil go on to pursue medicine at Harvard and subsequently become a doctor. Hid father becomes irate when Neil gets a leading role in the school play, insists that he drop out, but later gives in and let him perform. Just when you think all is well - dear old dad even shows up to see his son's stellar opening-night performance - things take a turn for the worst. Upset that his father is withdrawing him from Welton and forcing him to enroll in a military Academy, Neil commits suicide - that's right - he shoots himself with his father's gun. When this happened, it threw me - I mean i did NOT see it coming - and oddly, this unfortunate and depressing plot twist has been haunting me for the last couple days.

Why did Neil, and for that matter, young, bright adolescents, have to die?

I know, I know, you're thinking, "Joey, get a grip - it's a goddamn movie!!" (I guess it's a testament to the director/actors who really MADE me believe it) but I really began thinking about the concept of tragic death, be it suicide, murder, or just of natural causes. Catholics will say it's God's plan for us - that people die - and it's all part of an agenda we don't even understand. I don't know if I buy that!! Maybe it was because I connected with Neil's character - I saw some of myself in him - but I can't justify and/or understand the death of a young adult. This is a written script, and the actor who portrayed Neil is alive and well today (I IMDB'ed him & the movie), but I'm sure in the history of the world, in one era or another, a young boy took his life because his dreams were thwarted by an stubborn-as-ever an/or demanding parent(s).

Only in death will we truly understand death, I believe. Until then, we will continue to LIVE with the agonies of DEATH, and have no solace and/or comfort because we JUST DON'T KNOW. Neil's soul might be at peace; he might just be rotting in the ground. Who's to say? I know not all life is cotton candy and gumdrops - I'm not asking it to - but I struggle with the concept of death in all its forms, the implications of fictitious Neil Perry's death, and the reasons behind it all.

Love Your City

I had a thought, New York, kinda like masturbation, just does not get old for me (I could confess my love for this great city in many ways; the truth is, I think New York is BETTER than masturbation).

How much do I love New York?

This blog, aside from daily reflections and such, will also be an outlet for the passion I have for my current home, which IS this town of 5 boroughs and 8 million people. That's not to say I don't love Ohio - as a born & bred Clevelander, I will NEVER forget but rather always cherish my modest, midwest roots - but there's something about New York that gets me, every time, through and through. It's what's gotten countless writers, actors, artists, filmmakers, tourists, and students alike - that 'buzz' of an undeniable and all-encompassing energy that defines this great city. Many have loved this town; many also dislike or even hate this town. But I am this town; that is, I try my best to embody and live the dreams of New Yorkers past and present each and every single day. And each day that passes, I find myself finding new reasons to love this city - thus wondering if I can ever love New York TOO much. Don't see it happening anytime soon :)

At first, my new york was seen through the eyes of director's lense; I saw the New York that Hollywood so glamorously glorified. First it was Kevin McCallister galavanting around the streets of the Big Apple, taking in the sights & sounds, and enjoying his unexpected freedom - he does need a bit of guidance, though, from Donald Trump, "down the hall and to the left;" and Mr. Duncan, "You keep one, and you give the other to a very special person." Shortly after it was 'Seinfeld' and 'Friends' - peering into the awesome and oh-so-comical lives of young Manhattanites who could NEVER afford their on-screen apartments in real life. Neverthless, New York is in movies/TV like Ron Jeremy is in women - When the setting for a movie or show ISN'T new york I often find myself wondering (quite snobbishly, I'm sure), "Ok, like where else IS there for a setting?"

After a few years the glitz and gaudiness of the city wore off - plus I actually grew weary of Times Square and 30 Rock (imagine that!) but began to develop a whole new love affair with the city - isn't that such a woman thing to say!? haha - but it's true; having just moved from Brooklyn to Manhattan (and before that, living in the Bronx), I guess you could say I've developed somewhat of an affair with the city, penetrating it borough by borough.

New York is a crossroads for me; it's a city filled to the brim of people with stories, baggage, interesting tales, or sorroful woes. It represents the worst and best in America, the world, and humanity at large; it showcases the triumph of free enterprise but also unflinchingly illustrates the degredation and shame of poverty. People co-exist here and may never know their neighbor, but risk their lives to save a complete stranger from a burning office tower. Any of this probably holds true in other large, cosmopolitan cities, but New York has a vibrancy (is that even a word), an aura and determination about that sets it apart from all the others.

"As Days Go By" - 'Family Matters' Opening Sequence

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ws6zba8sTVw&feature=related
Let's analyze the symbolism/implications of the intro sequence, shall we?

Reginald VelJohnson, aka Carl Winslow, comes down the stairs in a cop uniform, proudly embodying the "working class hero" and quintessential family man.

JoMarie Payton "Noble" (wtf she's cheatin on Carl?) aka Harriet Winslow, ruffles some flowers or something in the backyard, thus showing her "light, sweet, and breezy" side (but you just know if you fuck with one of her kids she'll murder you). She's also dressed in business attire - showing that she's definitely earning her peice of the pie.

Rosetta LeNore, aka "mother Estelle Winslow" just looks happy because she raised that working-class hero. If you look really closely she's reading 'Rolling Stone' magazine! Grannies everywhere aspire to be as cool as you, Estelle. Since nobody catches that she's reading RS mag, she's portrayed as a learned woman, which is quite remarkable for a woman of her time.

Darius McCrary, aka Eddie Winslow, is fixing some lights - a "handy" man to have around in a sticky situation! Eddie would NEVER knock up a 13 year-old...

Kellie Shaygne Williams is the insecure teenage girl, "do I look good in this dress?" Ah, remember the times? on the cusp of puberty when your breasts were budding, you'd barely had your first period, and you thought sex was making out? Yup, that's where Kellie, aka Laura Winslow, is right now. I think she's about to call Maxine to talk about Stephan Urquell.

Jaimee Foxworth, aka lost daughter Judy, and Bryton McClure, aka Rachel's son "Richie," are the token younger kids in the series that nobody pays much attention to. The former is just staring at her dollhouse and then flashes a carefree smile - probably masking her depression about her family forgetting she exists - and then, years later, she actually became a porn star. The latter is the token mulatto kid that probably gets made fun of a lot in school, "look at him! he's not white or black!" but you can tells Richie's a pimp - the way he rides in all cool on that bike, and I mean come on, with a name like "Bryton McClure?" He's probably a porn star, too!

And then there's Sean Harrison aka Waldo the token doofus - just playing basketball, oblivious to everything, until he gets hit in the head. He has a loveable and unsuspecting look on his face at that point, which in turn makes Waldo loveable and endearing to us all. And, on the side, he's nailin' Laura's friend Maxine. Go Waldo!

How about Michelle Thomas, aka Myra, who whispers sweet nothings into Steve's ear while he acts like he can afford what's on the menu!? She also always calls him by his full name, 'Steven Q Urquell,' which means he's almost surely getting laid (but if not definitely a hand job). I never got it, Myra was ALWAYS hotter and sweeter than than that cold-hearted bitch Laura, yet Steve sprayed his shorts for Laura and ONLY Laura! Love is blind, after all!

How about how they're all trying to hold the door closed so Steve can't get in - when in actuality, he could just walk around that little pathetic excuse for a front door, that little partition - apparently the Winslow's don't have a real house (or at least not one that would stand in high winds)

In conclusion: I have WAAAAY too much time on my hands.

Week o' Jam

I just gotta say this week has been sick - and that's not like "throwing up" sick - but rather awe-inspiring, great, spectacular. The weather here has been phenomenal; not 2,000+ degrees and muggy like the Augusts of yore (haha aka LAST August) and I'm constantly reminded each day, in one way or another, how ridiculously 'sick' life is.

A Thought About "Minority Report"

Anyone see "Minority Report?" It's one of my favorite movies. There's a part where Lt. John Anderton, the fugitive cop, confronts the old garden lady - self-proclaimed "mother of precrime" - to inquire about how to obtain the minority report. There is an awkward sexual tension between them the whole time; not sure if the director was trying to set the mood by choosing a background of writhing, phallic-looking plants, but toward the end, the woman leans in and whispers the answer to his question, "Inside the precog - who predicted it" and them finishes by kissing him. Afterward she looks pained; definitely a horny old broad that wanted some Tom Cruise meat, but shit! for me it's awkward yet strangely intriguing everytime I see it!

Advice to my cousin Scooter who is soon beginning college:

1) Take as many risks as you can (without getting killed) – This doesn't necessarily mean doing a line of coke off of a stripper's bare ass :) but it does mean putting yourself out there - join one more clubs and/or get involved with a club sport, go to a party or event you might not have though twice about in high school, TALK and INTERACT with people from different backgrounds or people who may not have been "your type" in the past – honestly, it’s amazing what you can learn from a complete stranger and you'll never know until you make that first step and engage them in conversation. Just put yourself out there - of course you won't hit it off with EVERYBODY - some people truly aren't your type - but it's a lesson in learning to accept and deal with all different kinds of people and, at the very least, for all the freaks you meet you'll have a great story!

2) Roomates --I know you already know your roommate – that’s great – now GO OUT with him and socialize as a pair until you develop a core group of friends. If he’s in the same boast as you and doesn’t really know many people, then it works even better. You guys can act as a team instead of you goin at it solo walking awkwardly down the hall introducing yourself to random people. I think Kathy’s pizza idea is great – nothing brings people together like free junk food.**Also, you might find you live really well with a roomate but don't socialize with the same people, don't have the same "scene," and rarely see one another outside of the room. Whereas this might be discouraging at first, it's really OK - and probably better - I lived with my best friend for two years in college and although we had some great times in the room, we did spend a lot of time bickering like an old married ccouple.

3) Enjoy the experience and don’t take the serious stuff TOO seriously --Study, got to class, and get your shit done (blah, blah, blah) but don’t forget to have fun – and A LOT of fun, at that. You’ll want to look back and say, “Man, what a great four years of COLLEGE,” and not “Man, what a boring four years of classes.” If you go out one night, get hammered, and miss a class the next morning – WHO CARES – it’s all part of the experience, yes? Again, as long as you learn to prioritize your schedule, there should be plenty of time for you to have a fuckin’ blast. Take the opportunity to travel – whether it’s studying abroad or visiting your cousin(s) in New York :) - you’ll have time, time, and more time in college – so much more than you had before – so make the most of it. When you start working, you may find you have very little time.

4) Dont forget the people who made you who you are today/your roots--This sounds like the title to a cheesy SClub7 song, but it’s very true – although your closest friends from high school are off to their own colleges and surely making new friends, drop the ones who matter most to you a line every now and then – in this age of mass telecommunications, there’s no excuse NOT to communicate. It can be as informal as a wall post on someone’s birthday or a text now and then - sometimes the littlest things carry the most weight. Furthermore, continue to cultivate those relationships you cherish most from high school, and look to do the same with the people you meet in college.

5) Be who you are and don't do anything you don’t wanna do --College is a time where everyone is, more or less, in the same boat – you’re all coming from different backgrounds; everyone had different upbringings and life experiences up to this point. It’s a little different than Cleveland (don’t get me wrong, there’s diversity in good ol’ C-town, but we all kinda grew up in similar communities) This is great about college though because all that high school bullshit (i.e. Chase calling you up and threatening you) melts away and cliques are literally non-existent. No one cares who you hang out with or what you do – peer pressure fades away because people JUST CHILL and have a good time. In high school, everything seemed to be a competition (at least for me) and therefore everyone tried to act all badass an outdo everyone else. Also in high school, we were more or less defined and judged by “who we hung out with,” in college, YOU can be who you really are and/or begin to “come into your own” and thus ultimately learn more about yourself. I smoked pot for the first time sophomore year because I was curious – not because my friends pressured me into doing it.

6) Collect business cards/contact info along the way--This one goes back to #1 – never be afraid to initiate conversation with a classmate, a professor, or anyone – you never know who might end up being an employer, a mentor, or just a lifelong friend; to that effect, you also never know when you might need someone’s help, guidance, and/or expertise. Collect any information you can on the people you come across (and I don’t mean spying on them through their bedroom window with binoculars or wire-tapping them) but rather get a person’snumber, contact information, business card, or simply make “mental notes” on them that you can use when the time is right.

7) You don’t always have to make out with beauty queens--Fat/ugly girls need love, too! If one of them approaches you drunkenly and tries to make out, I say DO IT - again, nobody cares, because, at very least, in college you can chalk EVERYTHING up to being drunk (i.e., “Aw man, I was SO wasted last night…I barely remember…”) I say a kiss, even if it a drunken, sloppy mess, is still a kiss – if I had a nickel for everyone I ever made out with (more drunk than sober, I’m sure) I wouldn’t need to work. Also, don't spend all your time tryin to get poon and don't focus all your energies on trying to get it - live in the moment, enjoy where you are, and all the rest will fall into place. I spent a lot of time - looking back, probably too much time - on being discouraged cuz I didn't get with that one "really hot girl" I was chasing; meanwhile, the world was happening around me but I was missing out because I was pouting about whatsherface.

WEDDING ANNOUNCEMENT

This is to announce the upcoming wedding of Camille HabbibiVishnuGuru to Joseph Gandhi-PatelRassGarba. The couple met while working at Dunkin’ Doughnuts (because, really, where else do Indians meet??) Joey was out back feeding a chocolate éclair to his pet elephant and Camille was taking out the trash when their eyes locked; Joey asked Camille if he could treat her to rice and curry and the next thing you know, the couple was having raunchy animal sex in Camille’s father’s Jacuzzi.

Camille subsequently deleted her accounts with DelhiDate.com, BombayBootyCall.org, and India2India.com; she knew after their initial romp that she had found “the one.”The rehearsal dinner will begin at Dunkin Doughnuts and continue to Seven Eleven for the “All You Can Eat” curry buffet. The lavish ceremony will take place at the Gandhi-PatelRassGarba estate, which is an exact replica, to scale, of the Taj Mahal. Approximately 8,786,808,765,677,909,800,076,665 guests from all around the world will be flown in to witness the couple’s union; included in attendance will be the entire Indian subcontinent and the island of Sri Lanka.

The wedding boasts an elaborate color scheme; Camille will wear red, yellow, scarlet, ruby, olive, lilac, gold, chocolate, mauve, lemon, crimsen, green, azure, rose, russet, purple, pink, orange, and blue – on her scarf. She’ll then jump into an elephant suit so that Joseph can ride her into the wedding procession – his elephant will not be in attendance as he has a hot date.The cost of the entire production was $8,700,000,000.

***I realize the above may be very offensive to some. What I didn't mention when I began this blog is I'm not too concerned about being offensive; 1) you can call me whatever you want - I'm half Italian and the other half Unkrainian, so go to town w/that - I'll even give you a few suggestions: As my friend Dan says, "meatball motherfucker," but I like "Daigo," "Guinzo," or just friggin' a mobster with cotton in his cheeks. For the other half, call me a commie or a dirty slav, whatever you will. Fact is, I'm proud of my heritage - and Indians, and everyone else for that matter - should be proud of theirs.

The above is a satirical wedding invitation - my good friend Camille works for a wedding planer and they're constantly planning lavish Indian weddings where the groom rides in on an elephant. So I took that and ran with it.

One more thought on musical orgasms: one I especially like is "Viva La Vida" by Coldplay - the peak part for me is the "Oooo-Ooooh OOOOOH OH OOOOOOOOOOH OOOOO" Refrain part (it goes up, then a little down, then back up, and down again). Just last week I twirled around like a 5-year old in her lil' tiara listening to that part - hey, can you blame me? - I was in my vacant Windsor Terrace apartment, it was a sunny Saturday afternoon (that part in the afternoon where the sun's at the perfect spot in the sky and not yet rushing to the horizon), I'd had a beer, and the ENTIRE spot was vacant - I was really feelin the jam and connecting with some force greater than I. Woah okay, I'll pull it back - to simplify, I had a moment, and, iPod in hand, danced around like a blissful fool to the the soothing and liberating "Viva La Vida." This single song, after all, is how I "coined" the term 'musical orgasm,' I thought, they not only build up this part (just like any great orgasm slowly rises to the brink of pleasure), but it's SO GOOD - just miraculous, overwhelming, and simply orgasmic.

I met Eddie contractor on the R subway last week. Covered in plaster from head to toe, Eddie used 'fuck' just about every other word - a real gruff guy with a thick Brooklyn accent. Some people perceive New Yorkers as detached, anti-social, rude, and indifferent. While I do agree with the anti-social aspect when it comes to mass-transit (I myself enjoy the peace of riding a subway, plane, or train without having to speak with anyone), I disagree with the other assertions after meeting Eddie - first of all, HE introduced himself to ME - started talking all about whet he does, how he puts in a good day's work (I almost asked him for a card) but that was all - I'll probably never see "Eddie contractor" again, but that brief and friendly meeting is enough for me to know, once and for all, that good people are everywhere - even ones covered in plaster and that use the word 'fuck' incessantly.

Musical Orgasms

We all know about musical orgasms - some of us just don't KNOW we know. Think about your favorite song - or even just a song you like - and then focus in on that moment in the song that makes all others insignificant; that moment, refrain, special line, or maybe even key change that "makes" the song for you - that's the musical peak or orgasm of that particular song. The beauty is, everyone's muscial orgasm differs according to taste; some love when Celine belts it out and declares to her lover (or dog, or 108 year-old Renee Angelil) or whoever that "you were my strenght when I was weak..." etc. etc. and others love the smooth and somewhat sensual opening of"Gimme Shelter" complete with "Ooooooo-Oooooooooooo's" and all (personally I prefer the latter, but that's me).

Jam 101/Intro to Jam

Welcome to jam!

I started this blog for a plethora of reasons (How's that for big words? Not everyone can put 'reasons' into context):

For one, I talk too much (my friends, girlfriends, and even family have told me this); second, I'm constantly running out of room on my Facebook statuses (I know, kinda lame, but true); third, I'd like everyone, even if just for a minute, to be as happy as I am right now; and lastly, living in New York is an adventure in and of itself - too much crazy shit happens in my life here - it's come to the point where I can't NOT talk about it.

This blog will serve as a written outlet (so your ears can have a break) for my thoughs, insights, daily reflections, and/or reflections on life in general - and I am open to comments, shared insights, or anything else you as readers can contribute. Sometimes, I might use this as a platform for venting; others, I might reveal anecdotal tales of my office atmosphere, the morning commute, or simply an overheard conversation out on the streets of New York.

Ultimatley, I will reveal and attempt to explain my life philosophy, jam, to you all.

Welcome to Jam!