life, death, and 991's

death is inevitable, yet i think my friends and family and i are all invincible. i didn't know walker best, but his sudden death has been thought provoking. i had trouble falling asleep the other night thinking about how life is so fragile and can be over in the blink of an eye. sometimes we see it coming; sometimes we don't. either way, it's abruptly definitive. it interrupts life - not only the one lost, but the lives of surrounding people. and its effects can often times be felt long after the loss occurs.

last summer i was in the room when grandad took his last breath. being in the presence of death definitely has a lasting impact. he was well into his 80's, so it wasn't too much of a shock; however, he went into the hospital for stomach pains and never left. his heart was simply exhausted. after all that it had been through, i guess it was understandable: fighting in a world war, falling in love, running a successful business, raising 2 children, spoiling 5 grandchildren, watching his son experience a divorce and a coming out, and living a year and a half without his wife. he had lived a full life, good and bad.

my favorite thing about grandad is that he never gave up. he never stopped doing the things that made him happy. my senior year of college we began a weekly tradition of writing handwritten letters to each other. i'd fill him in on my exciting life in college station, and he would offer me sporadic words of wisdom and tell me what he did to fill his days without gram. he would spread out his errands so that he could take the car out every day, he made friends everywhere he went, including the staff at the walmart pharmacy, and he even played golf until his legs started to give out in his last year. minus his thoughtful efforts to make things easier on his family, grandad never lived life as though he was going to die, even at the end. my favorite piece of evidence to this fact is the pair of new balance 991's he bought only months before his death. he absolutely loved those shoes, and we used to laugh about how we matched despite the generation gap.

the following week mom and i were cleaning out grandad's apartment. we were able to get rid of most of it, but mom held onto the family photographs and his world war II mementos. she asked me if i wanted anything, and i told her that i wanted his shoes. she gave me a weird look at first, but i explained to her how they were a symbol of his youthful persistence, his joie de vivre.

life is meant to be lived. to say it doesn't matter is comparable to telling me in high school that basketball was "just a game". i hated when people said that. if i would have treated it as such, maybe i would have saved myself injury, sweat, frustration, tears, anger, cursing, and endless hours in the gym. but what i gained from pouring my heart into it and working my ass off was indescribably rich and worth every second of it, win or lose. i think the same goes with life: you could just sit back and watch it pass you by because you think it's just a game. or you can work to get better - to love better, to work better, to understand better, to live better. on the flip side, we can't hold too tightly to things on this earth because, as the death of someone close to you will quickly teach you, they simply don't last.

there has to be some kind of balance between the two. and for the rest of my life, there will be a rather large pair of 991's in the top of my closet to remind me to pursue finding it.

stand clear of the closing doors, please

this past weekend i played tour guide for the umpteenth time. it had been a while, so i didn't mind at all (i actually never really do). the weather was unfavorable, but besides that it was refreshing to revisit some of my favorite must-see's in the city. every time i visually explain the city and my life in its context for the first time to someone, my spirit is refreshed.

we indulged in the perfect mix of tourism and localism: lunch at the coffee shop bar, frozen hot chocolate at serendipity, a long stroll through central park, times square, say cheese, dancing at manahatta, a ride home from a stranger, canal street backrooms, so good jewelry in soho, wall street, battery park, ground zero, dinner at nero in the meatpacking district, drinks at b bar, walking through my neighborhood, tompkins square park, the city's best burgers at corner bistro, magnolia bakery, people watching in the west village (with a guest appearance by jodie foster), rockafeller center, st. patrick's cathedral, coffee at dean and deluca, more local food, and of course, some time spent on my roof.

i went back to the things that made me love new york in the first place as well as the newer things that make me love it even more. i guess you could say i renewed my vows.

525,600

one year. in retrospect time always flies. we're always commenting how we can't believe it's already (insert appropriate month or year), so it's no surprise i'm perplexed with how this year has passed so quickly. i will never forget the "i'm serious about moving to new york" conversation i had with my parents, the day i bought my one-way ticket to new york, telling people goodbye, my last plate of mexican food, and i will absolutely never forget the way i felt sitting on the plane that was taking me to my new life. with knots in my stomach and chaos in my head i tried to imagine what it would be like. i ventured to keep my expectations low, that way i'd be content no matter what. with an overweight suitcase and a loaded ipod, the sojourn began.

it has been my experience that when you acknowledge you don't have total control of your life, the curves in the road are simple and stress is minimal. that's the way i like it, and that's the way this year has been. i made friends, got a job, and managed to carve out a somewhat "normal" life here. things just fell into place, more than i could have ever asked for. my life is not perfect, but it's pretty damn good. at the end of the day i have quite a bit to be thankful for.

to say that living in new york has been a learning experience would be an understatement. i have learned the city. i have learned people. i have learned cold. i have learned doubt. i have learned coexistence. i have learned responsibility. i have learned public transportation. i have learned personal finance. i have learned walking. i have learned snow. i have learned simplicity. i have learned accents. i have learned advertising. i have learned sternness. i have learned nightlife. i have learned long-distance friendships. i have learned cigarettes. i have learned rooftops. i have learned resilience. i have learned fall colors. i have learned religions. i have learned acceptance. i have learned enchantment. i have learned loneliness. i have learned restaurants. i have learned distance. i have learned confidence. i have learned art. i have learned insecurity. i have learned love. i have learned friendship. i have learned beggars. i have learned rats. i have learned parks. i have learned life.

one year ago i walked through that door in the picture, and change was inevitable. i'm very much the same person, just tweaked a bit. i still eat black beans, wear converse, get obsessive about music, and hate the mornings. i continue to speak my mind, avoid worry, and get annoyed with people. however my earrings are bigger, i enjoy a smoke at night, i rarely say "y'all", and my sarcasm is probably a little more biting. my crowd is more diverse and my perspective has changed on many fronts. it's funny because we're always changing. we're often aware of it and even pursue it, but sometimes it happens unwittingly. it can be good and bad, but life without change is boring and stagnant.

"When are you coming home?" is the really special question i most frequently get asked by people from home. the answer: I DON'T KNOW (damnit). all i do know is that it's right for now. i am acclimated to life here and there are still new experiences to be had (the cold weather doesn't hurt things either). i greatly miss friends and family and often times long for the face time i once took for granted. but i have a life here, and i'm happy. it's impossible at this point to attempt to analyze things and project what the future might hold. i will simply trust that i will know where i'm supposed to be.

right now i've got much more to do: more people to meet, more days to work, more restaurants to try, more nights out with friends, more lessons to learn, more afternoons in central park, more questions to ask, more conversations on my roof, and the list goes on.

all this to say: who know's what's next, but i'll be here tomorrow.

good aftah-noon, cts

regardless of the time of day, this is how lillina answers the phone. sometimes she catches herself, but usually not. she's our travel agent that i am constantly emailing or calling. her voice is unique: low, raspy, and a bit on the nasal side. the inflection of her voice suggests she most likely hails from the bronx: "good AFTAH-noon, cts."

lillina is lovely. she makes my life easier, and she is one of the many constants in my daily grind these days. as are the two guys that work at moon pie, the pizza place on the corner near my apartment. i stop by and say hi even when i'm not getting anything. the same guy is always at the zip in deli across the street from moon pie, offering me "special prices" on diet dr. pepper or cigarettes. the same girl is always outside on the stoop of the zip in - dark tan skin, short frazzled hair, and lately she's been hobbling on crutches. i see some of the same people on the train every morning, and some of the same people at the gym after work. it's these consistencies that keep me going. they are all signs of normalcy, at least for me. we all have routines and the usual suspects, no matter where we are. mine might just be a little rough around the edges.

i got a little bit of hope, like soap on a rope

last night we caught a better than ezra show at the nokia theater in times square. i really hate going to times square, the nokie theater (which needs to be renamed) was cheesy, the bars were annoyingly outside the room where the stage was, and there were quite a few youngins that showed, i'm assuming, to see sister hazel open the show. but (big butt) bte put on one hell of a show, as they usually do. i loved every second of it.

we stood probably about 15 or 20 feet from the stage with a great view, minus big daddy standing in front us. i enjoy seeing them live simply because i know their music, but they also exude an amazing spirit when they're on stage. minus their stint of popularity in the 90s with their songs "good" and "desperately wanting", the band hasn't experienced much commercial exposure or success. however, they managed to blaze their own trail through the help of an unusually loyal fan base.

i consider them lucky. they have been playing music together for 11 years now and have experienced great success. enough so that they are able to continue doing what they love while making probably quite a significant living. they are musicians, artists. and they get paid to do the one thing in the world that moves and inspires them the most. a simple concept, but an incredible life, if you ask me. the greatest part about better than ezra is the fact that they are somewhat under the radar of pop culture. if you google the name of their bass player, tom drummond who i really love, you can hardly find anything on him. yet he travels the world performing in front of thousands of screaming fans that pay money to see him play.

i conclude that either 1) i should have stuck with my guitar lessons in 4th grade or 2) i should be friends with/date/marry a (talented) musician. i'll add that to the list.

indian giver

john musto is his name. eccentricity is his game. he is a carpenter-gone-advertiser, and appears to be an all-american, midwestern meathead. he is to a certain degree, but there is so much more. one day at lunch i asked him what a typical weeknight looks like for him, granted he leaves work before 10pm. his answer was short and sweet: "get high and check on my corn." vintage musto. i know more random facts about his life and have gained more insight into his vagrant mind than i ever wished to, but he's lovely and brilliant and i welcome his oddities. he grows corn on his roof, he once ate a donut that was sitting exposed in the open seat next to him on the subway, and he wants the world to see his life as he does: through the legend of zelda.

saturday night i turned around and there he was, musto himself on my roof accompanied by a tall polish fellow who lives down the street from him in brooklyn. he came bearing a gift - a small, smooth wooden box filled with orbit chewing gum (my favorite). if he would have told me he had made it with his own hands i probably would have believed him because for such a seasoned carpenter as himself, this would have been no major feat. but he didn't. he bought it off the street in greenpoint from some kid for a dollar. and now he occasionally stops by my desk and throws me a baseball signal, which i have very intuitively interpreted to mean he wants a piece gum... from the box that he gave me and which he expects to be replenished often.

he dubs it an investment. i call it indian giving. but i'll probably always have gum for him.

now you see me; now you don't

some say life is in the details. i've taken note of a detail lately that is crucial to the culture of new york city: sunglasses. people in this city are serious about their sunglasses. whether they are $300 gucci frames from madison avenue or a $5 pair of canal street aviators (guess which one i am), we mean business. the great thing is you can get away with whatever you want. so if i feel like sporting a pair of jackie o style glasses, there is no judgement. people even wear their sunglasses inside - in restaurants, in stores, on the subway. on any given night you could probably even find someone sleeping in them.

carla, my favorite receptionist at work, has a pair of massive sunglasses, the kind that make you look like a new insect species. i was giving her a hard time about them the other day and i asked, "you're one of those people who wears their glasses on the train, aren't you?". she was quick to claim it - that yes, she does wear her sunglasses on the train. she told me that the reason she does is so that people can't get to her soul. she cited p.diddy's reasoning for always wearing shades: "the eyes are the window to the soul". carla said there's a lot of bad souls out there, and she doesn't want to let them in. we had a good laugh, but it kind of made sense.

today i went to times square to buy some concert tickets, and i decided to try out wearing my shades on the subway to keep my soul intact. it almost made me feel like i was hiding from everyone. i know they could still see me, but it changed my perspective on the situation. it was somewhat freeing, but i kept laughing at myself everytime i caught a glimpse of myself in the window. i wonder if diddy laughs at himself. probably not. at any rate, now i understand what carla meant, and from now on you might find me around town shielding my soul.

flying cheese and left over PBR

party tonight. a big one. we were celebrating our first year in the city, and a celebration it was. the roof was perfect tonight and full of people i somehow know. my enjoyment probably peaked at the arrival of several co-workers, truly some of my favorite people in the city- kumar, magner, dawn, and musto. earl didn't show, but my hopes were not high. grant showed up and brought his friend holly who's living in a convent in queens. she's not a nun, just a catholic volunteer. we had grant's usual dr. pepper for them both. that awkward brady kid was around again, but i avoided conversing at all cost. i met a guy named almir that sage works with and his roommate whose name i couldn't pronounce, but i'm pretty sure he's from croatia. i got caught up with ashlynn and the latest commercials and soaps she's been filming- i swear she'll be famous one day. alexis showed - we didn't talk much, but she left me my favorite bottle of shampoo on the bed, compliments of l'oreal. very clutch. and clint was here in full effect, checkered vans and all.

then there was the typical texas crew. they're always good at showing up, and staying late. you know sage has crossed over when she starts dancing by herself, clint was drinking tall boys, and kc kept smoking and getting reprimanded by meghan - the usual stuff. at 3am drew started playing the guitar and singing the only 2 songs he knows, there will still people in our apartment who we didn't know, and at 3:30 andy was catapulting cheese at anyone who would pay attention to him. but now things have finally settled down, the apartment is quiet, and my head hurts i'm so tired. i'm happy, though. it was an entertaining night with great people - i'm thankful to have so many friends in the city. even if they do spill in my living room and throw cheese in my general direction. it was one for the books, but all i have to show for it is some nasty left over PBR.

diet coke for breakfast

these days i drink diet coke for breakfast. i wake up early, throw on jeans and a t-shirt, and head out the door to work. at my real life adult job. everyday. it's not optional like the glory days of attending only half of my classes in college. that doesn't fly now. i'm in the 9 to 5 world. actually, it's more like 9 to 7, and a real lunch break just delays my freedom.

don't get me wrong - i love my job. the people are cool and smart, the work we produce is cool and smart, our office is a cool place to spend 50 hours a week, AND i can wear whatever i want. or at least i think i can. according to lee, the forty year old gay PA for our CEO, i should dress for my next job (aka he wants to see me in heels and a skirt), but he makes his proclamation as he's wearing jeans and soccer sandals, so i take it with a scoop of salt. actually, if you saw some of my fellow BBHers on the subway in the morning, you might question their employment status. we are somewhat of a motley crew, with a few corporates here and there.

currently the name of my game is grunt work, but there is room to grow. already have in the almost 11 months i've been at it. i've learned way more than i EVER thought i would at work - things about myself, other people, the industry, etc. all this to say that if i have to work, i have a pretty sweet deal (but i think it goes without saying i'd rather not have to). it still baffles me how i got here - to the place where i work and have health insurance and a 401K (or that i even understand the latter).

i am definitely not a morning person, but once i'm up i enjoy it for the most part. the people i see keep me entertained, and my trusty ipod provides the soundtrack. i can see my office building from the roof of my apartment, but it takes me 30 minutes to get there. i try to get to work by 9, and the first 45 minutes are my favorite. i set my bag down, turn on my computer, and head for the amazing machine that spits out ice-cold diet cokes for free. i sit down, sip on my beverage, and get ready to face the day. i know it's not "normal" to have diet coke in the morning and people always give me hell, but it takes the edge off of yet another day where people expect things from me before 11am.

square one

so i'm doing this for myself. at least i think i am. i've always been skeptical of people who blog for wearing their real hearts on their overly-connected internet sleeves or for seeming way too desperate to be heard. and i really can't even stand the word "blog". all i know is that i like to write. it helps me organize the chaos in my head. and that's a feat that a good shrink and a plush couch might not even be able to handle.

when i moved to new york a year ago, i began writing my thoughts on paper for the first time in a long time (thanks to mom's discovery of my uncensored writing in high school). the last time i saw my grandfather before i moved, he asked me to do one thing for him: write. he said that he wished he had written more in his lifetime, especially when he was fighting in world war II. so now i write in a little black book. i like it. i like the feel of ink on paper and the requisite pauses in between. minus a handful of cheeky mass emails i sent out earlier in the year, i haven't fully exposed myself in writing. ever. it makes me feel vulnerable, just like the time my towel fell down in the back outside of my cabin at summer camp when i was a kid - not fully exposed, but enough to make your heart race.

life is interesting. the city is engaging. so here goes nothing.