Snowwww!!!

So when the forecast said that snow was on the way I snapped to action.

“Hi!” I say to the man at the Toyota place. “So here’s the deal. I’m from California, this is my first real winter, and I need to get my car ready.”
“Okay.”
“So…I need a little help in terms of what kind of stuff to get.”
“Well, you’ll need like, an ice scraper, a shovel…”
“Okay. I have a scraper. Do you guys sell shovels?”
“No.”
"Okay. Do you think I need anything else besides that?"
"That's totally up to you."
“Right. But if you were me, what would YOU do?”
"It really varies."
"Um, right. But so like, I'd rather be prepared for the worst then get into some disaster situation. So like, washer fluid, snow-melting stuff...?"
"Maybe some washer fluid."
I look to the shelf with ten different brands of washer fluid.
"Which one would you recommend?"
"Well, really, its up to you. Whatever you prefer."
"Okay, sorry, but let me reiterate. I'm from California..."
“Wait,” he says, as though just waking up. “You’re from California?”
“Yep.”
“And this is your first winter?”
“That's right.”
“Ha!!! Good luck.”

After twenty more minutes of deep discussion with the man, about five more repetitions of "Totally up to you" and me repeating that I genuinely needed HELP, I walked out with a new scraper (bigger and better than my original one and with a handy little brush on the side), winter wipers and a giant plastic container of bright blue washer fluid. Looks like a sports drink and works as low as -25 degrees. Got a $9 shovel at home depot, and today when I woke up the city was covered in a soft white blanket.

Ironically enough, nobody on the news, radio, or in the streets were excited. Their tones seemed to be saying "Well, here we go. Its official now. No more warmth for another three to four months. Super."

I went to Lexington to walk Keely (Uncle Nick & Aunt Becky's doggie), and was glad to spend time with someone who shared the same fascination as me. Look how beautiful it is! Look how wintery it looks! This is the beginning of the real east coast experience!

In general, my experience is that when I am outside for a while, it doesn't seem that cold. I think "This isn't so bad! I can handle it!" And then of course once I get back inside, my nose starts running and the heat confuses my body as to whether it should be tough or surrender to how cold it really is.

However, one thing is for sure. I will walk out of this winter a tougher and more skilled...um, winterer. California Schmalifornia.

GRRRRR E?

GRE (i.e. Genuis' Revolutionary Envy)

The Graduate Record Examination is a standardized test that determines how prepared one is for graduate school. The prep class through the Kaplan company comes with things like online tutorials, practice tests, teachers who always are available for help, stress management seminars, etc.
Based on the three sessions so far, it is my opinion that there should be one more addition called “Attitude Adjustment.” Here is what I would put on the syllabus:

Class 1: The Rules
a. First and foremost, no matter what, if you have an opinion, it ain't no good no more. Disagreements with answers are not even like...well, just...no.
b. As stated in pg. 48 of the 465 page book: “CAUTION! Creative writers, beware! The GRE does not test poetic skill-Sentence Completions should always be interpreted literally, not imaginatively.”
Got it? Imagination is not appropriate behavior. Time out for all you imaginationers.

Class 39: Things to do in the classroom as well as test environment:
* In class:
a. Spill your gram cracker crumbs all over the spotless carpet and the smooth little table. Give the room, bright purple walls, and buzzing fluorescents some personality.
b. While your teacher teaches, with his Harvard bachelor’s and U. of Chicago MBA degrees, neat haircut, white toothed, enthusiastic-about-learning disposition, don’t think too much about what’s behind it all. Don’t bother to ask questions in your mind like:
How much was that shirt? Are you trying to look like a "snob" or is it just who you are? What’s behind that everything-is-in-my-reach attitude? Do you ever let trash acquire in the back of your car?

* In the Test Environment:
a. Throw up, cry, and fail.
b. After failing, go home, get in pink pajamas, curl up under blankees, and talk to your stuffed animal about how much you miss childhood when the biggest test of your intelligence was how high you could stack blocks.
g. Get up, throw down stuffed animal, get out and play your instrument in the subway station where the people who you know for two seconds as they drop a dollar into your case are who really understand you, and feel great about giving your art.


Class 2300: How to eliminate negativity that commonly occurs through the following:

- Cursing (if you don’t like cursing I’m sorry because I curse in this section…), and more specifically how to stop annoying phrases that occur all the time (ones that you remember from high school SAT preparation) such as:

“Who fucking cares?”
“This is bullshit.”
"Um, well, shit."
"Fuck this."

- And other less severe yet still bad thoughts:

“I don’t care.”
“I want to shoot the person who wrote this.”



Class ?: Solution:
* Say mantras over and over until negativity is eradicated:

“There is nothing better I could be doing right now than being here."

"I am so happy!”

“Despite my lugubrious mood, I have fervid veneration for this erudite material because it is so...good...that it is unassailable in its opulent appositeness to real life. No need to be foolhardy in my recalcitrant feelings toward standardized tests given my limpidity towards these things and quibble towards unemotional, artistic-diminishing crap...ah! uh, I mean...impedimenta. I will go outside and watch a bevy of quail fly by, and as I do so, think of the imperturbable freedom I crave, and if my score is particularly halycon (which would be scarily fortuitous), I will experience it myself.”

Chilly yet Philosophical

I am writing at this particular moment because I figured typing is a good way to get blood flowing to my fingers.
It is 1:45 a.m., 37 degrees, raining, and the heater in my apartment is broken. But that’s okay. This is like the tropics compared to what it will probably be a couple months from now. Besides, I am tough! (I am pounding my fists on my chest like a guerrilla from southern California)

Here is an organized list of experiences in the last week, as well as their overall significance:

1. I went to a lecture by author Susie Squire on her book, I Don’t (about the evolution of marriage).
“Back in the day,” she said. “People died young. If you think about how high the divorce rate is nowadays, it is because divorce is really just a substitute for death.”
At one point in talking she trailed off, looked around, and said, “I’m thirsty.” Before someone could reach her with a bottle of water, she picked up a cup, walked to the refreshment table, and poured herself some wine.
“I’ve been married twice,” she continued. “And the second marriage has been going for twenty years now. I haven’t divorced yet because frankly I’m too old to find somebody else. Just kidding.  No but seriously.   My husband isn’t here tonight.”

All throughout, people were laughing. While she signed my book I asked her what age she thought was appropriate to get married.
“Well,” she said. “You’re young. You don’t want to marry for love alone. That is not enough. You need to marry for stability. Someone who will support you when you’re pregnant.”
On the train back I looked at what Susie wrote in my book.

For Elizabeth – The best of luck whether it is I Do or I Don’t.

Questions came flooding in. Were people laughing because they thought she was joking or because they were too shocked to acknowledge that she was serious?


2. I went to Salem, MA for a day. It is a fun place to go this time of year. It indeed has a slightly haunting quality. The memorial for the witches is a long row of engraved concrete. The words are those quoted from the people who were executed, cracked in the middle of the worlds to symbolize the way they were well...interrupted. I feel bad for those people (witches) who were caught in such a ludicrous situation and so lucky to live in this day and age. 

Side note: It is also good to live nowadays because of heating systems. Oh wait, unless they don’t work. Even though you pay rent.

3. A couple days ago I tried to play music in public. There I was standing in the Boston common.   For fifteen minutes I didn’t play one note, but it certainly was a show.  Right when I was ready to start, the music stand, with all its weights and paperclips, crashed to the sidewalk, sending the music flying. I tried the same process three more times before putting away the flute, throwing my stuff back in my bag, and storming off.

4. Yesterday after a meeting with my writers’ group I walked out of the café to discover that my car was not where I parked it.  I looked on adjacent side streets to see if I was suffering from temporary dimentia, but a call to the police department confirmed that it had been towed. When I reexamined the place I parked it, I realized that the sidewalk, though not that low to the ground, was a driveway to a house about 50 yards back. After I got my car back, driving home, I got philosophical.

                              a. The unnerving experience of thinking your car has been stolen releases adrenaline. Coming down from the adrenaline was when I realized, that lot of my experiences here have been fueled by adrenaline...not always as a result of panic, but rather, anxiety. Anxiety is the motivator for accomplishment. I'll admit that most of the time I feel dissatisfied with myself, constantly striving for higher levels of success, and I guess more importantly, lack of failure.  Preparing to come here was all about the big picture, but the little picture is actually much more difficult to figure out.

When one thing makes you question your entire life, you have to take a step back and look again at the big picture. It is so very big that each disaster is merely one tiny piece on a beautiful, gargantuan mosaic. ☺

That was probably a lot of information.  

To end, here is a picture of a 1 and 1/2 ton pumpkin:

Big fat pain in the Apple

Manhattan is like Boston, Los Angeles, and Europe all put together and on steroids. There is a 45-minute wait to get a piece of cake at 10 p.m., but you can get a manicure if you want.


I come up the stairs from Penn Station, hungry and in need of some sort of caffeine. A breakfast place is steps away.
“I’ll have the French toast,” I say to the man behind the counter.
“That’ll probably take a while,” he says.
“Oh. Really? Okay. Well then um, I’ll have an egg bagel and a cup of…”
“We don’t have egg bagels.”
“Oh. Okay. Well then just a sesame bagel.”
“Cream cheese?”
“Yeah.” (What, am I going to have it plain?) “And some uh, lox. And a decaf hazelnut latte.”
“We don’t have decaf hazelnut.”
“Okay, just regular then.”
“I thought you said decaf.”
“No. Just…wait…okay. Just a small decaf coffee.”
“That’ll be $9.50.”


If you are walking towards someone on the sidewalk, somebody has to move but it probably won’t be the other person unless they get an inch from you and then angrily brush you as they pass. Nobody holds doors, unless of course they’re getting paid.

There is a store that sells nothing but olive oil imported straight from the Mediterranean.

Is it blue tooth or schizophrenia?


Walking to the subway station, there is a man sitting on the sidewalk with a crowd gathered around.
“I’ll take a dozen,” a lady says to him.
When I get closer, I see that he has a box full of carrots and is selling nothing else other than the shavings of those carrots. Duh.


Going back down the steps to the subway station the smell of urine invades. There is a man with dirty fingernails playing Spanish guitar hooked up to an amp so that it echoes through the concrete. Waiting for the train I imagine being in Spain, frizzy-haired, sipping wine…

Once the train comes screech, I realize I might be at the wrong place. The lady in the kiosk looks absolutely miserable. When I ask her where to go, her face lights up and she is all of a sudden bursting with information, get on the N, off at 36th, then to the W, the R or the Z, off at 8th…

I get in the elevator, and immediately regret it. God knows, by the look and smell, what has happened in there, or when it was last cleaned.

At the correct train, a lady with a massive turban, a sari and a suitcase is walking toward me. The train is approaching, but before I get on, she veers toward me more and taps my arm.
“Hey you,” she says.
"Yeah?"
“MOVE!!!”


Getting off in Brooklyn, I don’t need to know where to throw away my coffee cup because it appears that I am already in a landfill.
The breeze swiftly moves trash from one end of the block to another. I have to dodge a couple pieces as I walk. A man with no teeth wearing a stained wife beater is screaming something in another language to someone across the street. A group of men feet away are standing in a huddle and yelling. Hard to tell whether its friendly or not. I turn right and see a group of Hasidic Jews walking out of a kosher meat market. It is the land of toothless wife-beater clad people and lots of Jews. Then there are more. Then lots and lots more. They’re like ants. And not just regular Jews, but SUPERJews too. Even the babies have curly locks of hair and yamakas. Even the school buses have Hebrew letters.


Looking down over the next two blocks, there are more kosher meat markets, automotive supply places, and convenience stores.
“Is there anywhere like a little restaurant or coffee shop close by?” I ask a guy in the convenience store. He smiles, also without teeth.
“Not really in this neighborhood,” he says.
Two and a half hours later I am done walking the streets and can finally go to my appointment.


Leaving New York feels like leaving a hurricane. My hair has gotten bigger, and when I wash my face, there is visible grime that comes off.

When I lie down I smile. Feeling the ache of my body, I know I can’t wait to go back.


Other things worthy of acknowledging: New England foliage of course.

On the trail behind Aunt Becky and Uncle Nick's house:

Haavaahd:

From Above

It was a beautiful day, so I went up to the 50th floor Sky Walk of the Prudential Building (the tallest on the left) to get a really neat view.
We are looking at it from the Christian Science Reflecting Pond.



Behind the reflecting pond (which was very um, reflective...literally and metaphorically), I also poked my head into the Christian Science Church, but rejected the flyers and pamphlets and left after getting a look at the big pipe organ. It was nice, but no worries. Still Jewish.


The tall building reflecting the city is the John Hancock Building, the tallest in New England.


The bridge is the Longfellow (or also called "salt and pepper" based on the shape of the four central posts) Bridge. If you look closely, towards the upper right, before the horizon, there is another bridge. That is a major part the infamous "big dig." Only $14.6 billion. Looks pretty small from here for that amount of $.


Fenway Paahhk. Go Red Sox.



Back Bay. Used to be swamp land.

Fun being a tourist. :)

Some observations and lessons from a town of beans

(Please note: Cynicism is perhaps an overpowering element in this entry, but please do see that in the end, I am really aiming for humor. Additionally, the word “you” should always be taken vaguely.)

Observations:
1. In Boston, women dress like women. Men however, are a different story. They usually fall into one of two categories: slobs and snobs. I think the slob is pretty self-explanatory. Snob on the other hand, is more complicated. Things like designer jeans (pre-faded and if really cool, pre-ripped) sport tucked in button downs, and when it is below 60 degrees (like today) happy cardigans sport shoulder laptop bags. Sharp hair cuts (not shaggy) frame faces (if at Harvard - or rather, Haahhvaahd - often with acne, not that there's anything wrong with it) which sport dark-rimmed glasses. This is especially true around the universities (oh wait, that’s pretty much all of Boston).
2. I never would have really guessed it, but in Boston there are in fact...yes...hippies. Dread locks and all.
3. Sweater vests are excellent for cusp-of-autumn, slightly crisp days. Absolutely perfect. (How did I know this? I didn’t. My astute instincts just led me right.)
4. Traffic lights are a mere suggestion for both pedestrians and vehicles.
5. Don't ever expect to find paahking for free.


Lessons:
1. Just because there are coffee shops on every corner of every single block, that doesn’t mean you need to get a cup of coffee every time you go inside one to hang up a poster for your job, because a) decaf is a lie…you’ll be bouncing off the walls no matter what, and b) being caffeinated makes you less cautions when reaching into your bag, thus leading to paper cuts and cursing.
2. Cursing is okay (even the cops do it just standing out on the street, but they're really nice when you ask for directions), but whatever you do, please don’t cry. It is unbecoming in an east coast manner. Suck it up and be a man (and so what if you’re not really a man...am I being sexist? Perhaps. Is this acceptable? Irrelevant.).
3. Back to coffee. Don’t buy a cup of coffee before you get on a train or bus. Trying to get wallet out of your bag and paying WHILE holding cup of coffee is bad idea. The driver will NOT wait for you to get your act together before slamming down on the accelerator. The coffee WILL inevitably spill on your skin and clothing and that WILL hurt.
4. When using public transportation, there is no shame in asking for help when trying to buy a ticket. People who know what they’re doing have just been there longer. Better not to waste your time or others’ time trying to figure out which way to put your card in and unzipping your wallet to take out the old one when you can just wave the entire wallet in front of the censor (duh). After all that, you will get your bag stuck in the kiosks (also leading to cursing)...and for what? Pride. At least people speak English here, so for goodness sake, take advantage of it!
5. Don’t be afraid to ask for help, but at the risk of once again being slightly offensive, don't necessarily ask help from the homeless. There is no shame in just turning around and saying "leave me alone!" when they won't shut up in complimenting your choice in earrings, even if they really are supersweet earrings.
6. Just because you are a struggling musician with the type of instrument that is among the most competitive and in an economy that is getting steadily worse doesn’t mean you should be discouraged. Did you expect the challenge of being in this environment? Yes. Were you really truly prepared for it mentally and emotionally? Perhaps not, but acknowledge every success rather than treating them as mere appetizers to a main meal that in actuality, might not be what you expect.
7. In all seriousness, do be grateful for landlords that come out at 11:00 at night to scratch their chins beside you as you both stand outside of the door you’ve been locked out of because you had been given a wrong set of keys. Think it fun when you have climb out a window over the ledge of a balcony. Adventure, after all, is included in the rent.

Like a River

So let’s compare. See pictures to understand what I’m talking about.

The Los Angeles River: no kayakers, fisherman, or swimmers will ever bother you there. It has a hint of toxic waste, and the citizens of LA always keep it decorated with broken beer bottles and trash. I have never been afraid of it except for a couple of times when rainwater made it over flow. Essentially, it is a manmade, concrete lover’s heaven. It is the “nature” I grew up alongside, and seeing it now reminds me of how far I have come in four short years of being in a different place.


The Willamette River is the life-giver in the Willamette valley of Oregon. People camp around it, swim in it, jog along it, and even occasionally die in it. With thousands of other Duck football fans, I walked across it to get to the games, I jogged along it, and I even once swam in it. It was the soul of Eugene, and allowed Eugene to be what it was for me in that wonderful stage of my life.

The Charles River of Massachusetts, the third and final destination so far in terms of rivers, you can see that there is a combination of urbanity and nature, which I find quite appropriate now, given that I have experienced both individually. At the risk of sounding obnoxiously philosophical, here we find symbolism!


Being in school my whole life has made me crave autonomy, responsibility, and freedom to put my skills to the test. Boston is where I feel drawn to because it is a clean slate, and begging me to jump in and swim in the musical as well as literary opportunities. Not to mention the fact that it is cheaper to fly there than it is to fly to Oregon. Oh yes, and those beloved family members who I will now get to see more frequently.

Sometimes the most significant changes happen in the shortest amounts of time, and that has certainly been the case with me. Life will do what it wants with me, perhaps harshly, and perhaps without success, I feel confident however, that no matter what, it will allow me to “flow” with ease to the next chapter afterward.

Here I go!

Hello

Well here I am. No turning back now. I am now a "blogger." Maybe I should have a blog bat-mitzvah (baruch ata adonai, blog-achhhaalachala...), or some kind of initiation into this portion of pop culture.

I decided to start doing this because I am used to making multiple reports to important people about the latest developments in my life, but I thought, wouldn't it be awesome to just do it once and still have everyone get the message? Duh.

I hope this might be somewhat entertaining, and that you will all feel free to write me back with your wisdom, advice, and yes, criticisms.

What can I say cyber space...look what the cat dragged in. :)