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One of My Favorite Days of the Year

2006-06-21T23:10:00.000-04:00

is today, the first day of summer, the longest day of the year. To me, it symbolizes the opening to another chapter in the year, when everyone is outside and the world teems w/ life. The sun rose over Boston at 4:08am today, which is unbelievably early, yet the sunrise each year is worth a night of little sleep. There is something magical in watching dawn on the longest day of the year, as if I'm witnessing history, like going to the ballpark and watching a no-hitter unfold into the ninth inning. The magnitude of the moment is not lost, but instead sits densely in the atmosphere, oozing through each onlooker indiscriminately.

June 21 also marks a sad day on the calendar, because for the next six months each day will be shorter than its predecessor, each gasp of sunlight will be more faint than the morning before, until eventually winter rolls in once again. This bittersweet day brings w/ it bittersweet memories, places I've never visited, people to whom I've never explained my love. This date has always held special meaning for me, serving as a sign to open bedroom windows and let the world in, sunlight and all. I'll worry about the shortening days some other time. Right now, I'm going to enjoy the last moments of this year's longest day before falling asleep. Maybe I'll dream of longer days, longer years where I'll find the time to do everything I'd like. Maybe someday.

I'm Rubber, You're Glue...

2006-06-20T18:26:00.000-04:00

While discussing Ani Difranco w/ my friend last week, he shared w/ me the content of an email he once sent to his ex-g/f. Quoting Gravel, he simply wrote to her, "You were never a good lay, and you were never a good friend." My response? "Awesome." So tell us, what's the meanest thing you've ever said/done to an ex? Let the entertainment begin!

To-Do List (Before Death)

2006-06-19T23:16:00.000-04:00

My friend Steve recently shared w/ me his list of 100 things he hopes to do in his life. Not a bad idea. So I gave it a shot late the other night as I fought off sleep while laying in bed. Think you're up to it? Give it a shot. You may learn something about yourself, which is always a treat. Here's the first tenth of my list, in no particular order. Let me know if you wanna hear more, submit your own in our "comments" section, or just respond w/, "J-Mazz, this is your worst post yet." I can take it.

1. Learn to play guitar well

2. Drive cross-country w/ a friend

3. Be best man in a wedding

4. Try out for Saturday Night Live

5. Live in a European city w/ a friend (Rome/Barcelona/London, etc.)

6. Learn to make crepes

7. Work at a ropes course

8. Be someone’s mentor

9. Visit the Grand Canyon

10. Dunk in a game

Had To Go See About A Girl

2006-05-23T23:03:00.000-04:00

Two weeks ago, I made a bold move. I’ve been told I’m not much of a gambler, which may be why my most recent adventure continues to roll around inside me. Since most of you have no idea who I’m talking about or what led to my actions, I won’t bore you with details. You’ll have to call/visit me for the real scoop. All you have to know is I rented a car (Snowflake was still in the shop after her wreck) and drove 90 minutes through the rainy evening to “go see about a girl.” And for those of you who’ve seen Good Will Hunting, the parallels don’t end there. I drove out of Boston to say goodbye to someone who’s impacted my life so much in the past few months that I can honestly say she’s changed me. I forgot to mention I listened to Elliott Smith much of the ride, adding to the cinematic similarities.

So basically I showed up at her door, completely unexpected, and just winged it. She was leaving two days later, so I guess I really didn’t have anything to lose. After chatting w/ her family for a good 45 min. (her mom loved me), we went upstairs and talked about her looming departure, her mixed emotions, etc. The conversation somehow found an opportune time for me to tell her how I feel, feelings I’d decided I had to share with her only days earlier, after a little wisdom from friends Charlie and Sherri gave me the “fire under my butt” I needed (that was for you, T-Rock).

Sitting on her bed, words began cascading from my lips. Again, I won’t go into details here on the blog, but I have no problem discussing it without a computer. Let's just say I emptied my brain and heart in that room, and actually felt good about it afterward.

Who the hell cares, you may be wondering. Well, the reason for this post is not to touch on my latest escapades in love (or something like it). Instead, I want to share with you the importance of seizing every opportunity in life to follow your heart. For fear of sounding cheesy, don’t be afraid to gamble. Go all in, if the situation so moves you. If I, until recently withered and floating in limbo, can throw myself out there, so can you! As the great Dr. Seuss said:

Do you dare to go out? Do you dare to stay in?
How much can you lose? How much can you win?

Keep those words fresh in your mind the next time you’re faced with fear. In a lot of ways, life is just like the lottery: You can’t win if you don’t play. And most of us, much like Will Hunting, just need a kick in the ass to get started. “You're sitting on a winning lottery ticket and you're too big of a pussy to cash it in.” Getting your portion of the reward is just a step out of your comfort zone. Give it a try. Good or bad, you’ll be glad you joined the risk-taking club. Not only am I the club president, but I’m also a client.

Forget Umbrellas

2006-05-14T18:26:00.000-04:00

Searching eBay for an arc. Seriously, if this week's forecast holds true, Boston will be halfway to Biblical proportions. I'm just glad I no longer live on the first floor. I'm also glad I'm not homeless, although living rent-free would be nice for a while. Speaking of arcs, did you know the original name for Garden State was "Large's Arc?" I think Zach Braff made the right move in changing the name, mainly because Garden State has several meanings. The obvious one is it's the nickname for the state where the film takes place. But dig a bit deeper and you'll realize "garden state" also sums up the main character's mindset as the movie progresses, as if he's shedding the drugs that've dictated his thoughts for so many years and planting seeds for a healthier, truer "garden," one that involves the delicious Natalie Portman. And I can finally say I've used "delicious" to describe something other than food.

So back to the rain thing. The best things about rainy weekends include saving money by not going out and accomplishing household chores and other tasks that keep getting put off. For instance, I spent last night reading Travels With Charley before hittin' the hay. I filled this morning by updating my iPod and rediscovering the waffles and frozen berries in the back of my freezer. The afternoon has taken me to Trader Joe's before returning me to my room, where I've been writing the past several hours. Oh, and I called home to wish Catherine a happy Mother's Day. I really don't know where I'm going w/ this, other than rainy days are sometimes a good thing. Rainy weeks, on the other hand, are challenging. Wish me luck as I head into my second in a row.

Another Typical Saturday

2006-05-10T02:51:00.000-04:00

My Saturday was not too different from yours. My best friend Charlie (from AmeriCorps) came to town Friday evening, so we felt less than 100 percent Sat. morning. Nonetheless, we grabbed lunch and immediately headed to the liquor store, where we opted to purchase a very adult-like six-pack of Harpoon Summer and a very college-like case of Busch Light. All together now... Mmmmmmmmmmm. So we spent the afternoon on my deck, drinking Busch Light and listening to Radiohead's Kid A on two diff. stereos (w/ a 17-sec. pause between the two). The undecided sky opted to rain midway through the afternoon, leaving our scenario even stranger as we guzzled cheap beer amidst random raindrops. Around dinnertime, we headed to Sunset Grille w/ my roomie Mark, who I'd never hung out w/ before. K-Man met up w/ us there, and we proceeded to enjoy a delicious, affordable meal sandwiched between world-reknown beers. Once we finished, Mark pulled out a $100 bill and paid for us all. Awesome. Then again, he's older (29) and more established than the rest of us.

After dinner, we headed to The Paradise for the Pinback show, which was awesome. The opening act, Pleasiasaur, was not. In fact, I'd say he was the worst life performance I've ever seen. Seriously, I felt so nauseaus I needed to head outside and make phone calls until his act was done. Ugh. Pinback started strong, but I quickly found myself passing out standing up, never a good thing when you're 6'4". I said goodbye to my buddies and walked outside, deciding to scope out the back alleys of the venue. I found a nice spot on a ledge behind a minivan and quickly passed out, although I was twice awakened by bouncers asking if I was OK. An hour later, I returned to the show in time to catch the last few songs and encore. It was fantastic, and Charlie and Mark were absolutely shit-faced by then. After the show, K-Man peaced out and we remaining three headed to The Silhouette for beers and darts. Upon closing the place down at 2am, Charlie decided it'd be a good idea to throw darts everywhere but at the dartboard. Smooooooth. As we walked back to my place, we passed an extremely loud house party on Brighton Ave. After a brief discussion, we decided to enter and see what happens. Leading the way, I followed a couple girls inside and immediately introduced myself to one of the apt.'s inhabitants. Mark and Charlie soon followed, and we found ourselves drinking tequila and jungle juice w/ 30+ college sophomores. While chatting up a friendly gal, she asked me what school I attend. Thinking quickly, I said, "I'm a recent graduate." I guess "recent" can mean "four yeårs ago," right? An hour or two later, we tired of the ridiculous antics that are college underclassmen (pounding a tequila bottle, rockin' out to Journey, etc.) and took off, just in time for Mark to become belligerent and yell at everyone he saw (and even some people he didn't see). Needless to say, it was just your average Saturday in Boston.

Workin' For the Weekend

2006-05-05T15:48:00.000-04:00

Most people are gearin' up for Cinco de Mayo celebrations right about now....
Me? I just got a 15 page newsletter article to edit. The subject? Incontinence.....Folks, there is a newsletter for EVERYTHING...Happy Cinco de Mayo.

Question of the Day

2006-05-03T03:14:00.000-04:00

Would you rather go a month w/out showering or a year w/out kissing anyone?

First Time for Everything

2006-05-01T22:39:00.000-04:00

Last Monday, as I was driving to work on after an exhausting weekend of training in upstate New York, some genius in a black Infiniti elected to crash into my car, resulting in my first head-on collision. Ya know when you're driving and a car heading in the other direction is stopped, waiting to turn left across your lane? If you're a normal person (which is yet to be determined), you quickly glance at the stopped car before cruising by. I followed protocol, but apparently Razmig Panohdio;day7dnb missed the memo and opted to fire up his car's rocket thrusters and sneak by me as I continued my 30-mph clip. Unfortunately for me, Razmig's rocket thrusters failed to fire, resulting in his Infiniti basically devouring my Toyota Corolla.

As I slammed on the brakes and veered to the right, my brain kept repeating, “Are you effin kidding me?” His sheer stupidity was baffling, leaving me at the mercy of our cars. It was one of those unsettling feelings you get when you know something bad is happening and you can do nothing to stop it, like taking home a friend who’s had a crush on you forever You know you’re gonna hook up w/ her, but you shouldn’t because you don’t want to date her. At this point, however, the booze and your balls have combined to overpower common sense, leaving you helpless to a night of fun followed by weeks (or months) of awkwardness.

So anyway, I’ve spent the past 10 days dealing w/ his insurance company, making sure I get enough money to fix my car. I know my first head-on collision is a poor excuse for not blogging, but that’s what I’m going with. Just be happy I'm alive.

It's marketing, people

2006-04-28T15:12:00.000-04:00

And it's everywhere. Today I got my birth control refilled. (That's right...I do it......AND I shack up!) and inside my lil' pack of pleasure I found an offer to join the "Lo-Down" club (the name of the pill has "Lo" in it). Clever right? If you join the Lo-Down club, it reads, you can recieve a free pill dispenser. There is quite a variety or pill dispensers- one has jewels encrusted in it, another has red high heels and lipstick on it, a third has a variety of words such as "Passionate, Free, Confident, Independent, Ambitious," etc.
SO let's break this down...what kinda lady carries each of these?
The jewels? You like youre birth control extravagant, fabulous. You want those pills to make your vagina sparkle.
The red high heels? Do I need to even go there? Red heels= lady of the night.
And the one with the words? I have no comment for that one. No comment.
Well, the marketing maniac in me had to sign on and see what the deal was with the Lo-Down club and these free pill packs, so I did. I signed up for the club, and I was THIS CLOSE to getting my free pill pack (I was going for the one with the jewels, to be frank) and then BAM! I hit submit, and the next page could not be found...there was an error.
So basically, I was lured into the Lo-Down club, promised a be-dazzled pill pack, forced to sell my soul to the marketing Gods who now have my name, address and email, and I have nothing to show for it.
Oh well, at least I'm not pregnant.

"Oh baby you. You got what I neeeeeeed."

2006-04-21T10:58:00.000-04:00

“But you say he’s just a friend. You say he’s just a friend…”

Bizmarkee was lightyears ahead when he wrote this song. As a child I didn’t really understand the concept of being in multiple relationships at once, but through time I have observed many instances where men and women somehow figure out how to justify and partake in the practice of infedelity, in a much nicer, cushiony context. It doesn’t make it right in my mind, but it’s certainly worth observing. Think about it- our culture is ripe with it. Cheating. Plainly stated, it’s when you’re with one person, and you start doing someone else. Whether it’s a mind screw or a back-room-of-a-party screw, who is to say which one is worse? Below are a few of my “favorite” offenses:

“He’s just a friend.” (see Biz Markee song above). I work with a lady who has a husband of 25 years that she was recently separated from. They called a time-out and moved into separate homes, shared custody of their daughter and started doing their own thing several years ago. Through it all, they never actually got divorced. She is thinking about getting back together with him, but is also seeing another man that she claims she will continue to see. She calls him her “friend”. They go on dates, they do their thing, but they are just friends…would her husband see it way?

Someone to pay for your nails and someone to pay for your gas. When I was in college I spent summers working for my dad’s company. You cant beat being the bosses daughter because you get paid well and people leave you the hell alone when you want a day off, to take a long lunch break, to wear open toed shoes. But I worked with some pretty interesting ladies who spent the day answering the phone, barking at already pissy customers, and gossiping. Keisha was my favorite, because she was 250 pounds of classy, lovely, ghetto lady. She always smelled great, looked put together, and told it like it was. Keisha, upon seeing my nail polish chipping away, told me that I needed to find a man to get my nails done. I explained to her that my boyfriend at the time was a lowly college student, playing ball in the summer, not making a dime. I was the breadwinner in that situation. She shook her head and told me, that’s not what she meant. “I didn’t say you need to ask your boyfriend for money, I said you need a man to pay for your nails. And get one to pay for your gas, too.” To Keisha, there was her baby’s daddy (who will always have a place in her heart, but will never be able to take care of her or her child) her current boyfriend (who took her on dates and played with her daughter) and the two men who paid for her nails and for the gas in her car (no explanation is needed here). How did she keep track of them all? Two had her pager number, two had her cell phone. All had different ring tones. Apparently modern invention was the key to her discretion.

The Booty Call. This can often be intertwined with the above situations, but one factor differentiates it- it's all about the sex. Getting it on when you want it, not dealing with it when you don't. Text messaging and instant messenger have increased the likelihood and ease of this popular phenomenon. Interestingly enough, the booty call is not racist or sexist, and lends itself to a variety of subcultures. While it is still common for the female (or one of the females) in the situation to be seen as the “slut”, it is a socially acceptable practice and commonly heard phrase in the American culture. Most evidence of the booty call can be easily erased and covered up so that the co-conspirators can lead normal lives and carry on outside relationships.

A Marriage of convenience. This is simply a label for the practice, which does not always include the actual vow of marriage, but does include a commitment between two people, who in turn, see other people. The catch is that they do it without trying to hide it, they just do it politely and out of their partners view. Is there really a place for this in our society? Apparently so. People carry on meaningful relationships outside the bedroom, often being seen as exemplary couples. Inside the bedroom, however, they couple up with others. Late nights at work, business trips, unexplained phone calls. He’s still paying his half of the mortgage and she is still getting the kids to school on time. Everybody wins.

It's Funny Because It's True

2006-04-18T16:46:00.000-04:00

Everyone in New England has known this for a long time, but for those who had no idea, prepare to be informed. Make sure the sound is turned up for this.

Little Big Things

2006-04-17T13:17:00.000-04:00

I was thinking about J-Mazz’s entry about loving the little things in life. I am reminded of the little things that I love every time I am around my grandparents. Most people are particularly fond of one set, or just one grandparent, having forged some bond or spent some extended period of time during their lives together. Maybe a vacation, maybe they moved in for the latter years of their life before passing away. Maybe they were a favorite babysitter.
But my love, adoration, observation and great appreciation for my mother’s parents is founded in years and years of closeness. Sleepovers, long talks, letters, hugs, kisses and milkshakes can’t begin to explain the time we spent getting to know each other, learning how to love life together. I could write for hours today and only touch the surface of the great ocean of experience we have shared. Instead, as I am at work and will probably be busted for writing this, I will touch on a few of my favorites- the little things I remember that somehow amount to so much in my heart.
My name. My grandfather named me…have I written about this before? I got my name from a Portuguese woman my grandfather met while he was serving in the Navy. He fell in love, or maybe lust with her and her beautiful name, and so it is mine.
Banana splits and the Golden Girls. I found a great appreciation for “old people tv”, as my siblings and I have referred to it over the years, from the many nights I spent at my grandparents house. Sometimes they were babysitting, other times I just couldn’t stand the idea of being away from them for the night. I’d sit in my grandmother’s lap and she’d tie my hair in rags, hoping to recapture, in the morning, the curls I had as a baby. I’d sit and feel her fingers run through long, straight brown hair, the shiny kind untouched by heat and styling, the kind of hair that we had when we were kids. Golden, no matter the color. I’d laugh at Blanche and Rose, I’d lick hot fudge off a spoon and wince at the pain in my head, always trying to eat ice cream as quick as I could before it melted all over my footie pajamas. My grandmother was this perfect mix of the beautiful Blanche and the care-free Rose, the wit of Sophia and the height of Dorothy. She is in her late seventies now, and still as tall and beautiful. My grandfather, it is obvious, takes great pride in that.
Commitment. That feeling of always knowing I could count on a ride, a place to stay, a hug, a smile, a person to keep a secret. Cheese fries. Chocolate milk. A Halloween costume, a bathing suit that I forgot to bring to school the day of a trip to the YMCA. The day my grandfather went to a department store, bought the most pink, most adorable, most expensive bathing suit he could find and rushed it to my classroom in plenty of time for me to make it on the bus to the Y with the rest of the kids.
Nail polish. They way I feel when I wear it. The way I felt when my grandmother, and on occasion, grandfather applied it to my tiny nails. Regal. I learned that a lady should never leave the house without her nails done, and to this day, it is one of the first things I think about when I have anywhere to go- will I have time to do my nails? I started out wearing the same frosted pink that my grandmother wore, a little ritual between the two of us. Pretty ladies in pink polish. I wear clear today, or sometimes brown, but on summer days my toes yearn for frosted pink, and feel pretty when I give in to them.
The importance of tenderness and touch. My fiancé likes to watch my grandmother and I in church. We always sit side by side. We always hold hands, I put my arm around her sometimes, and we share secrets. We do this other places, but I think he finds it most evident and most entertaining in church. It is mere tiny proof of our love for each other, of our understanding that love manifests itself in many ways and that touch is one of them. I see it when my grandparents kiss, hold hands, help each other out of chairs. I know it when I long to hug my grandfather, dance with my fiancé, laugh with my grandmother. It’s that sweet, caring love that you can spend a lifetime trying to find and another trying to keep. You could even spend time trying to figure it out. But I’d rather just cherish it.
Sunrise. Most people find their love or need for coffee in college or shortly after, as they find themselves in the real world, waking up early by force, spending their days at work. I found my love for coffee as a four year old.
Some kids want to be old and wise beyond their years, and there isn’t a saying that could better describe me as a child. Anything adults did, I wanted to be a part of, specifically, anything my grandparents did. So in the summer, when it was my turn to spend a week at the beach alone with them, I mimicked their every move. This included waking up around 5 am every morning to watch the hummingbirds. My grandfather, an avid lover of all things natural and beautiful, fed every creature that came across his path. The hummingbirds were among his favorite animals, and he fed them a mixture of sugar water each morning from a variety of feeders. If we were very quiet and didn’t move too much, we could watch them as they drank nectar from feeders posing as flowers. And as they sucked sugar from those faux flowers, I sucked sugar from a coffee cup, just like my grandfather. That taste of warm, milky-sweet coffee and the feeling I got after I drank it quickly became a favorite drink. I log for the days of ritual; of waking early, watching the sun rise and the hummingbirds eat over easy conversation and coffee with my grandfather.
So, when I started writing an hour ago, I meant for this to be about little things, but as I read over it now, I find that it really is about the biggest things in life. Things that may seem small in size, but are in fact, huge in my memory, sustaining in my heart.

Little Things

2006-04-13T22:20:00.000-04:00

I’ve always taken pleasure in “the little things” in life, things most people ignore or take for granted. For example, one of the greatest gifts I’ve ever received was a going-away cake from two Ameri-gals I was never really close to. Why was it so special? Well, they constructed a dessert shaped in a “J” and decorated it as a highway (complete w/ Hot Wheels car), signifying my departure from DC to Boston. For once in my life, I was speechless.

Life’s little treasures are abundant throughout our days. The hard part is noticing them. Here’s a few I look forward to every week, just in case you’re curious.

Sundays- Trivia at the Thirsty Scholar w/ K-Man and others! We always field a competitive team, and I’m money on any question involving French. The fact a bunch of MIT nerds frequent the watering hole only increases my competitive juices. Making fun of the computer geeks is always a fun way to kill time between questions. I told you I’m not a nice guy.

Mondays- The billing coordinator at work is hilarious. I love stopping by her office and shootin’ the breeze. Our running joke around the office is she and I have a crush on each other (she’s married w/ kids, I’m at least 10 years her junior). Her office is right next to my supervisor’s, so every time I call her, she loudly exclaims, “Oh, hi, __________ (insert my name)!” And in the background I hear my boss laugh. The funniest part is her 8th-grade daughter really does have a crush on me. I’m caught in the center of an imaginary family feud love triangle.

Tuesdays- The pre-school kids have swimming lessons every Tues/Thurs, so I always keep an eye out for them walking past my window. Watching them parade up the hill from the Childcare Building is a hoot, and I love their reactions when I ask them if they’re going to play tennis/golf/horseshoes/squash. One of ‘em eventually shouts, “We’re going swimming!” I still contend, however, the best form of birth control is working w/ kids.

Wednesdays- The basketball class I teach for kindergartners and first-graders always makes me happy. Watching their improvement over eight weeks is staggering., as they’ve progressed from being unable to dribble to throwing each other outlet passes and making lay-ups. I’m so proud of my kids! The best part is their favorite drill, which consists of me rolling a ball and calling out one of their names. They have to sprint and slide across the floor to stop the ball before it crosses the black line. It’s hilarious.

Thursdays- The O.C. I love the witty dialogue, Summer’s gorgeousness (is that a word?) and the ridiculousness of each plot twist. But more than anything, I look forward to the opening song (courtesy of Phantom Planet). I’ve actually caught myself jumping out of my seat and dancing, doing some sort of landing strip flag-waving maneuvers. Yes, I’m single.

Fridays- Who doesn’t like Fridays?

Saturdays- Nothing beats lounging on the banks of The Charles with my journal, iPod and a good book. It’s the perfect way to prep for a late night and catch up on phone calls. Falling asleep for an hour or two in the grass is a nice bonus. Aside from waking up next to someone you love, I can’t think of a better place to return from a nap. Wiping grass and drool from my face makes it infinitely better.

New Music

2006-04-11T22:43:00.000-04:00

The next time you're in need of new music, check out the folks below. I've included the person who introduced them to me, as well. It's always nice to be recognized for good deeds, and turning someone on to new music is definitely a good deed.

Sufjan Stevens-
OK, so he's no longer a secret after releasing one of 2005's best albums in "Illinois." But if you're looking for an all-around magnificent album, Stevens' second installment in his attempt to release an album for each state (only 48 to go!) is a perfect choice. For anyone who's visited/lived in Illinois, the album should be even better. Lookin forward to his tribute to NH/NC/CA/AZ/MA/DC. Introduced by K-Man.

Pinback-
I don't know much about this band, to be honest. Just check 'em out. They sound a bit like Modest Mouse, but w/ much better vocals. Worst case scenario, you don't like 'em and will never get those five min. of your life back. Then again, you're reading this blog, so chances are you don't view each minute of breath as a precious gift that should never be "wasted." Introduced by Charlie.

Citizen Cope-
A girl I know turned me on to this guy, and he's very listenable. He floats styles together in a unique mixture of sound, one that makes you pause from your bowl of cereal and think, "Oooh, I like." His eclectic song library keeps listeners on their toes, giving his music the ability to stand out and fade to the background at the same time. Introduced by Karen.

Today's Realization

2006-04-10T22:29:00.000-04:00

I really like navel oranges.

Peaks And Valleys

2006-04-06T22:20:00.000-04:00

Anyone who works w/ kids will know what I'm talkin about. In a 24-hour span last week, I had one 1st-grader tell me he hates me and another say, "You're the best (basketball) coach a guy could have." Granted, it may've had something to do w/ me teaching science to a group of 7-year-olds, a subject of which I have very little knowledge. I know how to spell "photosynthesis," however. Lookin forward to camp. Bam!

Actually, We're Alive

2006-04-04T21:30:00.000-04:00

Contrary to nasty rumors around the World Wide Web, T-Rock and I are both alive and well, soaking up the early days of spring as we hunker down for the craziness that is May and June. OK, I don't really know what her schedule's like since she just started a new job (sounds like a good blog post!), but I'm entering the busiest time of my year. Buckle up.

Alas, I'm not crazy about work-talk, so instead I'll share w/ you a quick story about last weekend, in which I returned to DC for another round of drinking and debauchery. I also found time to have dinner w/ T-Rock and Gregg (and others) at a lovely restaurant w/ outdoor seating (of which we took full advantage). Holy shit, this post had better get more exciting or else you'll think you're reading People Magazine.

So I'll get right to the latest Top-4 List, this one being the four most important things I learned on my weekend adventure to DC (and a nite in NYC).

4. The Power of Accents
Having grown up in a household featuring a dad from Long Island and a mom from France, I've lived most of my life in the presence of accents. That may be one reason I went to college far from home. The strange thing is, once my family moved to NH (I was seven), my dad somehow dropped the NY accent altogether and quickly adopted a New England accent (to some extent). My mother, however, continues to showcase her French accent. In middle school, whenever friends (no girls, of course) would call my house for the first time, they'd have trouble understanding my mom over the phone. One buddy even asked me, once I was handed the phone, if my mother was from Puerto Rico. Um... no. My current friends always crack up whenever I break into impersonations of my mom. I'd type it, but trying to convey an accent through typing is like trying to explain the stench of fresh vomit through a drawing. So anyway, our waitress at dinner spent the entire night asking us what next we'd like to drink, always in the most knee-weakening Argentinian accent. The fact she was easy on the eyes made the meal even better. The pitcher of margaritas I swallowed also added to the atmosphere. I digress.

3. Rules of Adams-Morgan
If you've read past blogs, esp. from when I lived in the District, you may be under the assumption (and rightfully so) that Adams-Morgan, a section of bars in DC, has no rules whatsoever. On most nights, you'd be correct. Fridays at Millie & Al's, however, one rule is in effect: Patrons cannot pour their own drinks. After a long day of driving (NYC to DC) and a long evening of drinking, my partner in crime (Charlie) and I found ourselves as the last two standing from our original entourage. We, of course, were sitting at the bar drinking cheap pitcher beer out of plastic cups, the kind college students use after all the red and blue party cups have been used. Think of every cup you've drank out of at elementary-school barbecues. That's what was in our hands around 230am Friday. Realizing the night was short on stories (I'd only been kicked out of one bar so far), I remembered my new motto, which is, "I don't care anymore." Falling back on this thinking, I waited for the three bartenders to turn their backs before reaching over and filling up my cup. I still think I was extremely sly in this maneuver, although Charlie remembers it differently. We're both in agreement, however, that I turned to him while pouring and said, "Charlie, check it out!" Then the bartenders turned around and the bouncer walked over as my friend said, "Dood, you're about to get kicked out." Apparently it wasn't serve-your-own-drink night at Millie & Al's. Maybe that's Wednesdays.

2. Not Everyone is Fun
At the aforementioned dinner, conversation was plentiful and laughter was infectious. That is, most people added to the fun atmosphere of young professionals livin it up in the city. One couple, however, contributed nothing. You've heard the phrase "like pulling teeth." Talking to them was like pulling an elephant's teeth by climbing through its ass and yanking on them while crouched in its mouth. Luckily, the fun people outnumbered the opposition, and afterward we all wondered why the couple showed up. They could've stayed home, ordered take-out from a burrito place and not spoken to each other. They could've saved some money and watched the Final Four w/out the aid of closed captioning.

1. I Miss DC
I really like Boston, esp. the summers. Summers in DC, on the other hand, are a brutal three months of humid misery. Walking two blocks results in a sweaty back and pits. Aside from that, however, I miss my previous city. Granted, had I not needed food stamps while living down there, I probably would've enjoyed the District even more. Nonetheless, the mix of friends, happy hours and the Metro are things I will not soon forget. The fact I had a 9-5 job I didn't think about once I walked out the door also had an effect on my state of my mind, back when I had plenty of time and very little money. I doubt I'll ever move back to DC, but the memories I have of our nation's capital will always be dear to me. I'm sure if Boston legalized happy hour drink specials, I'd view it in the same light as DC. Apparently residents were drinking too much, which should come as no surprise if you've ever experienced a New England winter (all five months of it). They're just like DC summers, only to the other extreme.

Quarter-Life Crisis

2006-03-28T22:25:00.000-05:00

I recently emailed all my friends about their possible interest in an opening at my YMCA. Since 99 percent of my friends don't live in Boston, taking the job would require them to pack their belongings and move to a new city. As I watch 25 grow smaller in the rearview, it hurts me to think how few of my friends would drop everything and start a new life. I, personally, can think of numerous scenarios that would entice me to begin the next chapter. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy working for the Y, and have begun to establish a good reputation throughout the Association. But if you gave me a couple months' notice, I could easily leave it all behind for, say, three months of all-expenses-paid backpacking through Europe or a job working for the Conservency on Catalina Island.

While walking to my car after work today, I wondered how many of my friends, at this point in our lives, would be willing to do the same. So many have committed themselves, whether it be to relationships, mortgages, grad school or careers. Almost everyone is at a different stage of life than I, leaving me to wonder if one way is better than the other. If life were a race, who would be winning?

Multi-Tasking

2006-03-24T21:23:00.000-05:00

The next time someone accuses me of being unable to multi-task, I'm gonna show them this pic, taken in DC last month while spending a week w/ a group of teens on a church mission trip. As you can see, I'm playing harmonica and guitar at the same time, all while serving as a role model for teens!

Dear Abby

2006-03-24T20:28:00.000-05:00

At the Leaders Club (HS club for which I'm the advisor) meeting last nite, one of the teens began a values session by reading the following Dear Abby letter:

A young man from a famous family was about to graduate from high school. It was the custom in that affluent neighborhood for the parents to give the graduate an automobile. "Bill" and his father had spent months looking at cars, and the week before graduation, they found the perfect car.

On the eve of his graduation, his father handed him a gift-wrapped Bible.

Bill was so angry that he threw the Bible down and stormed out of the house.

He and his father never saw each other again.

It was the news of his father's death that brought Bill home again.

At this point, the teen asked each of us to write down what we thought the young man found upon returning home. Here's what I wrote:

The young man discovers his parents adopted a boy to be their new son. The adopted son is often seen cruising through town in the car the young man had picked out years before. There's a Jesus fish on the back of the car.

I'm supposed to be a role model for these teens, but I just couldn't resist on that one.

The iPod Has Landed

2006-03-23T21:04:00.000-05:00

My life may never be the same. Now if you'll excuse me, I've gotta get back to loading movies onto my new best friend.

eBay

2006-03-22T21:24:00.000-05:00

I made my first purchase via eBay today. For $49.99, I bought a child mannequin. Seriously. Let the comments begin.

I'm Old

2006-03-21T17:52:00.000-05:00

Saturday marks my 26th birthday. Despite holding down a career for more than a year and the constant questions from friends/relatives about when I'm going to "meet someone," I've done a pretty good job feeling young. That is, until I received a letter today from my grandmother. I opened the card and immediately felt strange, as if something was wrong. I then realized there was no check included, a wake-up call to the fact I am old. The grey hair and arthritis should kick in any day now.

E-Memory (Part Two)

2006-03-19T09:57:00.000-05:00

Although the emails from my Ameri-girlfriend are much shorter, they’re also more entertaining. Reading through them this morning reminded me how much I loved her and all her quirks. And for those who know me, perhaps the excerpts below will help explain why I never really recovered from that relationship. Instead, I changed, adapted, grew legs and walked out of the ocean and onto dry land. Or maybe I’ve devolved and returned to the sea. Either way, below is an email she sent a month before we broke up, living in Pittsburgh while I treaded water in NH.

dinner was fine and it was just like college again as me and prithi watched two hours of mtv after dinner very close together. we had this huge couch in our apartment that fit four or five people and katie or kerry would come home and always ask prith and i what we were doing bc wed always be on one cushion together intently watching somethign stupid. also she reminded me of the day i spent roller skating around the house. the interesting part is that i video taped this. i had routines and i made everyone in my house watch it. it had no sound though. just he noise of me banging the skate against the floor at the end if each lap. i think this house is killing me i think i had a fever yesterday as i kept feeling very hot even though all the windows were open. i shall check my temperature today. prithi was pissed i brought no photo of you with me. and she was unsatisfied with my description of you. long carrot head.

Reading these emails helps me remember the little pleasures of my life, aspects that would have otherwise washed away after yet another night of closing down the bars. These e-memories provide insight to that other world in which I once lived, the world of love, companionship, familiar kisses and a familiar face each morning. I doubt I’ll live in this ocean forever, but for now, it’s become quite comfortable. These emails, however, serve as a lifeboat back to who I once was. I’m sure I’ll climb in someday and paddle back to land. Maybe my legs will have returned by then.