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.