My Constant Re-education

I don't quite feel like this guy. But I'm close.

I don’t think I’ll ever stop learning, and that’s been a very comforting thing to realize lately.  I used to have this one-dimensional view of life, where first this thing happens, and then another, and then I finally die.  Don’t worry, that’s not a depressing thought for me: I think about death quite often, using it as a spring board for action in my present life.  I used to think that life only had so much in store for you, that it was boring, that you wouldn’t ever be able to transform yourself into something new.

This is not true, ladies and gentleman.  While I have not yet gone through such a transformation, I’m scratching at the horizon: I can see it just ahead, just beyond, somewhere towards the east and over the water.  This abundant feeling of potential and freedom comes and goes, for certain.  Some days I wake up and feel that the walls are closing in, that it is all too late, that I’m stuck doing whatever I’m doing that day, and nothing is ever going to change.  It takes me some time to pick myself out of this slump, and thrust myself into the reality that I ultimately know to be true, the fact that everything around me is new and meant to be explored and discovered.  Everywhere I turn there is newness and intrigue, and all I have to do is be courageous enough to go out and grab at it.  It takes a certain amount of energy, a small degree of effort, and a conscious effort of the will, but it’s all there.

I think of one example which will make trite the seemingly planetary statements I’m making: music.

Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2…

…might just steal my soul.

One of Those Nights

Last night at around midnight, I knew I should have gone to bed.  I wasn’t doing anything particularly interesting; my day off was coming to an end, and I should have had the common sense to call it a day, so that I could have some time before work today to do as I pleased.

I have about forty-five minutes to do as I please today.

For some reason, I had no desire to go to bed, and face another day.  Not that I thought that today would be bad or oppressive in any way, in fact, it was exactly the opposite.  I knew that today held the same routine that I do every Wednesday.  I knew the times involved, the activities, and exactly what I was going to feel like at work.  I didn’t feel like going to sleep and waking up to that, so I did what everyone does in those situations.

I stayed up.

Live Jazz in Harlem

Last night, for the second week in a row, Kevin and I traversed the entirety of Manhattan (on the A train) and arrived in a mystical place called Harlem.  Our objective?  To take in some live, sweet jazz.

I won’t pretend that I’m an authority on the intense history of Harlem, or of jazz itself: I consider myself quite the novice when it comes to familiarity with either.  I’ve listened to John Coltrane, Miles Davis, and Ella Fitzgerald- all the ones that I suppose you’re supposed to have listened to by now.  But start esoterically dropping names of anyone else, and I’m lost.  I admit it.

I do know one thing, though: I love to listen to live jazz, and this place we were introduced to in Harlem was lit up with it.

Does This Make You Think? It Should.

Last night on a laboriously long train ride into the city, I drew this in a moment of profound, cosmic inspiration on Kevin’s hand.

If this doesn’t make you think, and then rethink, about a wealth of universal problems and paradoxes, then you’d better think again.

Because this is deep stuff.

Making Changes

One of my favorite things to do is encourage people to make changes to their lives if they’re stuck in a rut.  I like doing this because when I talk out loud about it, I am forced to consider the possibility that perhaps I should be the one making a change in my life.

I was at work the other day, talking to one of my servers.  She had expressed to me many previous times that she wasn’t very happy at the job, and didn’t know if she could continue doing it.  This particular time, something had gone wrong on one of her tables, and she was upset about it.  She said quickly something about wanting “get out of this” as she passed by.  We fixed whatever stupid problem her table had (probably their cosmo was too icy), and moved on with the night.

Later, after closing, and with the restaurant empty, her and I sat at one of the tables to do the closing paperwork.  She was silently adding up totals on checks, referencing them against her end of the night report.  She clicked away on the calculator, glancing back and forth between the two piles of papers, jotting down numbers and assigning them their proper boxes.  I asked her if she wanted to do this for the rest of her life.

She simply said, “Of course not,” not looking up from her paperwork.

“So what’s your plan?” I asked.

“What plan?”

“Your plan for getting out of here.”

Did You Hear About Tiger Woods?

Hey everyone, I don’t know if I’m just late on this or what, but have you heard about Tiger Woods?

He’s a really good golfer.  He can hit the ball really far, really straight, and sometimes even curve it the way he wants to.  He can put “spin” on the ball so that when it hits the ground, it will either stop short or go farther than a normally hit golf ball.  He can putt from far on the green, judging the heights while crouching behind the ball, and when he taps it, it will sometimes go in on the first try!

Tiger Woods is really good at golf.  That’s all I’ve heard about him in the news recently.  Nothing else.

Santas In New York

So on the L the other day hundreds of Santas flooded into the car, and spilled out into the station, on the way to their annual pub-crawl.  Here’s what it was like to walk among them.

Oh, It Actually Gets Cold In New York?

Yikes.  It is officially winter here in New York, at least for me.  Being from California, I had never experienced a true winter in my entire life, and it is starting to get very winter-y here.  The worst part: it hasn’t even started to get as bad as it’s going to.

I walked outside my apartment this morning to get some coffee, bundled up as much as I have been so far: two shirts, heavy winter coat, beanie, scarf, and pants.  I was immediately hit in the face as soon as I came out.  Ouch!  What the heck was that?  Did I run into a pole?  Oh, no, wait.  It’s just that cold.

The temperature is 24 degrees, but out here they use another system of measurement called “feels like.”  The weather web sites record the actual degrees, but then tells you what it really feels like when you factor in the wind chill.  This is all new to me.  Today it’s twenty-four degrees, but feels like nine with the wind chill.

It’s not that bad yet; I can deal with it so far.  Kind of.

To Those Who Don’t Accept Apologies.

“I don’t want you to be sorry; I want you to think better.”

These were the words (verbatim) that my boss said to me yesterday.  I had made a few mistakes over the weekend, and at the end of a half an hour lecture, I had the urge to at the very least apologize for what I had done.  It is an instinct that was inborn in me.  If I care about something, and I mess up, I like to apologize.  While the job itself may not be where I want to ultimately end up in life, I certainly do care about my job performance.  I like to do things well, and I don’t like to disappoint.  It’s why I don’t play the piano in front of anyone.

Yet my apology was sourly rejected, and I didn’t know how to respond.  I was expecting the normal, “It’s okay, but I seriously need you to think harder about it next time.”  I just needed to know that yes, I made a mistake, being made of humanly flesh, but there was a point now that we could all move on from.

I didn’t get that impression from my boss.  I only got the impression that she thought me a dolt.